It was an old man with leathery brown skin and a surprised but tolerant grin.
Marion couldn’t hear what they were saying, but the way he quickly got to his feet and opened the door for Dee, she was fairly certain he wasn’t an axe murderer. So she hung up the phone and lowered the window, to sit there and wait.
It took closer to fifteen minutes by the time Dee came out again.
Marion turned the car around, parallel parked, watched a young woman several doors down roll a rack of used clothing onto the sidewalk, and kept the engine running, ready to start off at a moment’s notice. Just in case.
It was so that when Dee climbed back in and closed the door, all Marion had to do was ease the little red Geo out onto the road and head toward the Interstate highway again.
“Well, it cost me a pretty penny just to have them look, but that was the only kind of place I could think where they could at least tell me if it’s real.” Dee put her sunglasses on.
“Those places are notorious for cheating people, you know.”
“Well, I found out what I needed to anyway. I made up my mind before I even went in; I wasn’t going to take any offers.”
“Believe me, if it was Cleopatra’s wedding ring, they still wouldn’t offer more than fifty dollars.” Marion checked the rearview mirror before changing lanes. “That’s the way those kind of people operate.”
“They offered eight thousand.”
“Eight thousand!” Marion jerked the wheel looking over at her, and the car swerved slightly into the next lane before she corrected it. “What did you do? Sell it to pay for the trip? Eight thousand dollars!”
“Heavens, no! That ring is worth fifty thousand if it’s worth a penny. I wouldn’t even auction it off at Christie’s now. It’s the best insurance we can get for what we’re going to be doing.”
“Fifty thousand dollars! Do you hear what you’re saying?”
“It’s a pittance compared to everything all together, Mare. Think about it.”
“I’m thinking your pittance quotient just went from five thousand to fifty thousand in less than twenty-four hours. Are you sure all this is legal? What if it belongs to some long-lost relative or something and we’re stealing somebody’s inheritance?”
“According to my research, all the Strassgaards died in the war. I was very careful about that. There were some Kellermans that may have been distant relations…but I couldn’t find any of them, either.”
“They all died? The whole family just vanished off the face of the earth? Kellerman sounds like a pretty common name, if you ask me.”
“Well, I’m not exactly sure. But believe me, Mare, we’ll get the whole thing sorted out right, as soon as we get back. I wouldn’t have it any other way.”
“So why don’t we save the trouble of maybe getting ourselves killed and sort it out first? That ring all by itself is worth a fortune. Besides that, a bird in the hand is worth two in the bush, you know.”
“But what if the whole collection, together, really is worth fifty million? The partners knew that before I ever even met them, yesterday. And what if, while we’re fumbling around trying to do everything proper, Scott Evans gets there, first? Peterson gave them to me, Marion. Personally. Practically with his last dying breath!”
“I thought you said that old man might not even be Peterson. What if he’s the very thief that had to murder somebody to get them? A lot of those crimes went on in that war.”
“Murdered somebody?” Dee looked out her window for a few moments, thinking. “Oh, you’re…probably right. I wonder if we could get in trouble digging up stolen treasure sixty years after the fact? Even though it no longer belongs to anyone and we had nothing to do with the original crime.”
“Beats me. But I know one thing.” She clicked on the blinkers and turned onto the Interstate highway onramp, headed south. “Going to jail at my age would kill me.”
Dee pursed her lips together and looked out her window again. “If it was a national treasure, I think the worst they could do is want it all back. Otherwise, it’s fair game. All treasure can be traced back to some original owner, so that fact can’t be relevant.”
“Could be a finders-keepers sort of a thing!” Marion brightened at the thought.
“That’s the way I was looking at it, too. But maybe we should go to the police anyway. Just to be sure.”
Neither of them said another word for the next ten miles. On the outskirts of the city, Marion pulled into a fast food place.
“Listen. Bill and I used to have this rule when we were married. Never—never—make an important decision without sleeping on it for a night. Because the next day a person almost always regains their common sense.”
“Marion, this isn’t exactly a vacuum cleaner or a new car.”
“But it’s the same principle. Want an ice cream?”
****
It was nearly four o’clock in the afternoon when they drove into the marina parking lot. It’s just that they kept thinking of little extra things they might need—a book on the basics of seamanship, extra batteries for their computers, and a few food items that were personal favorites.
When they gathered their things for the long walk out onto the docks, Dee suddenly realized how exhausted she was. She set her duffel bag and a suitcase down at space forty-three and knocked this time (as well as a person could knock on the side of a boat), but there was no one aboard the Pandora.
Marion came up behind her, panting under the load of both her suitcases. “This is it? Looks like something out of the eighteenth century. Where’s the motor?”
“Inside somewhere, I guess.” Dee climbed up over the rail, which was a little more difficult to do in her yellow dress than it had been in her jeans.
“Shouldn’t we wait for the captain, or something?”
“I’m the captain, or something,” she said more to herself than to Marion. “So we’re moving aboard. Toss me the stuff, and I’ll give you a hand up.”
Once aboard, she didn’t even take time to change. Instead, she left Marion to settle in and headed for the port office so that she could pay the outstanding bill before it closed. The partners had such a know-it-all attitude, she wanted nothing in the way of proving herself absolute owner of Pandora. She had to find out just exactly how far she could trust them. Until then, she would carry her canvas bag, with everything from the safety deposit box inside, wherever she went. She wasn’t born yesterday.
As practical and business-like as Wayne Hawkins and his friend Henry Starr had seemed, she had no intentions of letting the journal (much less a fifty thousand dollar heirloom ring) fall into their hands. She had made the deal with them because they already knew most of what she did and had planned heading out on the expedition on their own anyway.
Now, she would not have to worry about them working against her if they were working for her, and a partnership seemed to be the only logical answer. Large sums of money did strange things to people.
The port office was small, but cheery. It had a bank of windows overlooking the marina and was attached on one side to a bustling bait and tackle shop.
Dee had to wait while the only person in attendance—a middle-aged woman with flaming red hair, who dressed like a teenager—filled out a fishing license for an elderly gentleman. According to several posters tacked between the docks and the bait shop, there was a salmon derby going on.
“What can I do for you?” the woman asked as the gentleman left.
“I’m here to pay a bill,” Dee replied. “Quite a big one, I understand. For the Pandora, in slip number forty-three?”
“Pandora? That’s Hawk’s boat. There’s no money owing on that one. As a matter of fact…” she flipped through a desk file a few feet away. “He’s paid up for next year, too.”
“That’s funny. Yesterday, he told me the dock fees hadn’t been paid for two years and next month it was going up for auction.”
“Well,” the woman hesitated as if she had to decide whet
her or not to confide in Dee. “Formally”—and she drew the word out long, as if what was going to follow was a good piece of gossip—”it is going up for auction next month. But he’s got an in with the Harbor Master and the whole thing’s already decided. Know what I mean?”
“I’m beginning to. You wouldn’t happen to know where Hawk is right now, would you? He wasn’t on the boat.”
“Oh, if I was going to guess, I’d say he’s probably over at the Seahorse Lounge.”
“Next to the restaurant?”
“That’s the one. His party came in about an hour ago with the biggest catch of the day. Thirty-seven and a half pounds. If nobody brings in anything bigger before midnight, you can chalk up another twenty-five bucks for Starr’s Charters.”
“He works for Starr’s Charters?”
“They’re partners.”
“I thought he worked here at the port. On boats or something.”
“Only when you can talk him into it. My computer’s been down for three days and can I get him over here? But,” she sighed wistfully, “if I had the kind of money he does, I’d only work whenever I felt like it, too.”
“I should probably head over and talk to him, then. How late will you be open?”
“Oh, I’ll be out of here by five, but we open at eight every morning. Thinking about buying Pandora?”
“Something like that.”
“Hawk must want to sell pretty bad. You’re the second person to ask me about it this week.” She laughed and shook her head. “That boat’s changed hands more times than a fickle woman! People always show up out of nowhere, put a bunch of money into her, then get scared and take off. Been watching it happen for years.”
“Sounds like you know something nobody else does,” Dee prompted.
“I do indeed.” She smiled and pointed a bright nail-polished finger toward one of the bay windows. “Been working here fifteen years, and know all there is to know about every boat in this harbor.”
“Mind sharing what you know about Pandora?”
“Not a bit. Like I say to everybody. Don’t tell me any secrets because I never keep them. And the secret on that boat is”—she leaned her forearms on the smooth wooden counter and looked Dee straight in the eye—”there’s a curse on it.”
9
Small Craft Warning
“Can you start around the world day after tomorrow?”
“I can start this minute,” I answered, quickly trying to stop the rapid beating of my heart. ~ Nellie Bly
The Seahorse Lounge was fairly quiet. There were a few obvious “regulars” seated at the bar, a man with a table to himself in one corner and a noisy party of eight beneath the windows that looked out onto the water. The dance floor and stage were empty, but a glimpse of the current band’s poster on the wall told Dee the place was of the honky-tonk variety.
Wayne Hawkins was sitting with his back to her at a crowded table with a woman next to him.
Starr gave her a friendly wave.
There were several tanned beauties among the group, as well as a few fishermen.
“Pull up a chair, Dee,” Starr boomed. “We just ordered the best steaks in the house.”
“Well, that’s awfully nice of you.” Dee smiled her most enchanting smile as she came up behind Hawkins. “Actually…” She laid a deceptively friendly hand on Hawk’s shoulder, but pressed it with much the same firmness as a teacher who had caught one of her pupils cheating on a test. “I was hoping I could steal Hawk here away for a few moments?”
Hawk reached for her hand with an equally firm grip as he stood. He tossed three quarters on the table, without letting go of Dee’s hand. “Pick out something good on the juke box honey, and I’ll be back before it’s over.”
“Is there someplace we could talk?” Dee snatched her hand away as they walked off.
“Sure. How ‘bout my office?”
“Fine. Where is it?”
He pointed to a table in one of the darkened corners of the room.
“That’s not —” Dee protested.
“We can talk here.” He waved at the bartender as they sat down. “What happened?” He eyed her hat and the sunglasses hooked over the first closed button of the yellow dress. “You look like you came straight from work yesterday. I didn’t expect you back before Thursday.”
“Well, for one thing…”
A cocktail waitress came to the table with a glass of beer and set it on a napkin in front of him. “Thanks, Terry.” He smiled at the young woman.
He had a charming smile, if one were to look at him that way. There was a sparkle, the kind that made people smile back without realizing it.
“Anything else?”
“Nothing for me, thanks,” Dee answered crisply. “I’m fine.”
“I think Dee Parker looks like…” He scrutinized her. He must have had several drinks already. “The strawberry daiquiri type,” he finally pronounced.
“I am not here on a social call, Hawkins,” she spoke quietly, “And I don’t drink.”
“I don’t like to drink alone.”
“Obviously. Why did you pay the outstanding bill on Pandora?”
“Because I always pay my bills.”
“But Pandora is mine. And I want everything done right and legal before we leave. Since you had an in with the harbor-master and are already registered as the current owner, I’m going to need your signature before they’ll change it down at the DMV. Honestly, is there anyone in this town that doesn’t know who you are?”
“Small towns are like that.”
“Then you’ll come with me to get it straightened out?”
“I didn’t say that.”
“But you agreed to cooperate. Something like this could hold us up for days.” She ran a thumb over a smooth edge of the wooden table. “Do you want to get going, or don’t you?”
“What happened, Dee? Yesterday, you could barely agree to leave in a week and now you’re acting like you want to untie and take off tonight.”
“Could we?”
His air of playfulness vanished and he suddenly looked deadly serious. “You told somebody.”
“Not exactly. It’s just that…”
The girl returned with a strawberry daiquiris and Dee smiled at her. “Could I return this for one that’s heavy on the strawberries and no on the daiquiri?” Not that she was so inclined to order anything at all in a place like this. It’s just that she had to do something to avoid that penetrating gaze as Hawk paid for the drink. He didn’t take his eyes off her.
“Go on,” he prompted when they were alone again.
“I just have a bad feeling about it, that’s all. And I would just as soon―”
“Listen, sweetheart…”
“Don’t call me that.”
“No games. Understand? This is a dangerous enough venture we’re in all by itself. So if you gave someone—anyone—the least little inkling something was up, you better tell me. People do crazy things for this kind of money. Secrecy, you got it? Secrecy is our best ally, sugar. Now, what happened?”
“When I got home, someone had gone through my apartment.”
“Sure it wasn’t just a routine burglary?”
“They only took one thing.” The waitress returned and set down a glass of blended strawberries. Dee thanked her and then took a sip. “A chart of the Russian coast Nels marked for me,” she finally admitted.
Hawk muttered under his breath and got to his feet. He walked a few paces away and then back, giving her the distinct impression he was about to lose his temper. But he didn’t. Instead, he sat down and leveled his gaze on her. “You have a passport?” he asked.
“Yes.”
“With you?”
“Yes.”
“The papers on Pandora?”
She nodded.
“Let me see them.”
Dee reached into her canvas bag and handed them over. Better to confront things between them here and now instead of run into problems later on. Espec
ially if he might contest the validity and force her into doing anything legal, just to prove it.
“Looks official enough,” he pronounced after a moment.
“They’re official. Signed by Nelson Peterson.” She reached across to tap an insistent finger on the old man’s signature. “Notarized and everything down there on the bottom, see?”
“I see.”
“Here come the steaks, Hawk,” some woman called across the room.
“Be right there, doll.” He got to his feet and handed her the papers. “I’m going to finish eating with these folks so nothing will look hasty. But I want you to go ahead and—where’s your car?”
“In the parking lot.”
“You can’t leave it there until we get back. Anybody could trace it.”
“You mean the police?”
“I mean anybody. Let me have the keys, and I’ll park it in Starr’s garage.”
Dee hesitated.
“Listen, sugar, if you’re having second thoughts, you better quit right now.”
“Don’t”—she reached for her keys—”call me sugar!” She handed them over.
“Just settle in on Pandora and get some rest,” he offered with a congenial smile. “You look like you need it. Take any cabin you want.”
“Maybe I’ll take the captain’s quarters,” she snapped, “as long as you’re feeling so generous.” She expected a complaint, knowing he had already claimed the luxurious main cabin at the back of the yacht as his own.
Instead, he flashed another one of his winning smiles. “Nicest offer I’ve had all day.”
****
Back on Pandora, Marion had already moved into the forward cabin. “I hope you don’t mind,”—she called when she heard Dee come in—”but this one has a little desk that’s perfect for my laptop.”
“I don’t mind. Remember what the book said though.” They had been drilling each other from the new seamanship book on the long drive down. “Forward cabins tend to toss more when under way.”
“I don’t get seasick,” she replied. “Besides, those cabins in the back are already taken. So I put your things in that one on the right, just across from the bathroom. That’s the cutest little bathroom. It even has a shower!”
The Pandora Box Page 6
