‘You sign them all in on that clipboard?’ I asked.
Wesley nodded.
‘Do you still have the sign in sheets from yesterday?’
‘Of course. We have to keep them until the cruise is over, then they get filed away.’
‘Do you mind if we look at them?’
Wesley stood silently for a while, gnawing on his lower lip. Then he reached under the counter and pulled out a plastic file folder, flipped up the flap and withdrew several sheets of paper, stapled together in the corner. ‘I can’t let you take them, you understand, but you can look at them here.’ He leaned forward. ‘Please don’t tell anyone I did this.’
I favored him with a huge smile. ‘Promise.’
David and I moved to the end of the counter so as to be out of Wesley’s way, and also, not coincidentally, out of range of the security camera, which was probably functioning perfectly now.
I leafed through three pages of names, neatly printed in boxes, with Time-In and Time-Out and the parent’s signature in other boxes ranging out to the edge of the paper on the right.
‘Jesus,’ David said. ‘There are a lot of Crawfords.’
‘Yeah. So I noticed. But I don’t think any of these Crawfords were cruising on the Voyager, do you?’
I ran my finger down the sign-in sheet until I got to the rows covering the time when Julie arrived. There was Georgina’s signature, and in the next row down, the signature of Katie’s dad, Steven Krozak. As David hung over my shoulder, I called up the Notes app on my iPhone and tapped in the names of everyone who’d signed in between the time when Julie arrived and the time she supposedly headed for the restroom. ‘No name pops out at me,’ I said, tucking my iPhone back into my pocket.
When Wesley was free again, I handed the sign-up sheets back to him with thanks. He hastily refilled them in the plastic folder. ‘That help?’
‘Afraid not. But thanks anyway.’
‘No problem. That kind of thing … drugs … just shouldn’t happen – not here, not anywhere. Makes me sick. I hope they find the bastard, lock him up and throw away the key.’ He paused. ‘But don’t quote me on that, please.’
‘Wesley, one other thing,’ I said. ‘Do you remember if there was anything in particular about the day that Noelle was abducted and yesterday, when Julie went missing? Did they have anything in common at all?’
Wesley laughed out loud. ‘Mrs Ives, everything is in common on Phoenix Cruise Lines. The titles of the movies change, of course, and some of the games, but management keeps the schedule more or less the same for every cruise. Movies, pizza afterwards. Talent shows, scavenger hunts, trivia contests. Same old, same old. Events that are weather dependent, like the bungee trampoline and the rock climbing wall? That’s harder to predict. They’re both open today, for example, but I remember that the rock wall was closed on Voyager that day because of high winds, so we were a bit more crowded in Breakers! than usual, and much more crowded than we were in here yesterday.’ He shrugged. ‘Sorry I can’t be of more help.’
‘It’s OK, Wesley. We appreciate your cooperation.’
‘Come on,’ I said to David. ‘I can see that Kira’s on duty in the bar.’
David and I eased our way past a clot of boisterous teens heading out of Breakers! and approached the bar. Rohan wasn’t on duty, but Kira was there. Her back was turned as she added ice to a rank of four blenders, dropped fresh fruit into three of them, and set them whirring. She snagged several glasses, made a U-turn, then stopped short when she saw us, pressing a hand flat against her chest. ‘Whew! You startled me.’
I flashed my brightest smile. ‘Sorry! We just wanted to speak to you for a minute.’
She swung her arm in a wide arc, taking in the chaos on the bar in front of her – trays holding drinks, French fries, slices of pizza, hamburgers – then swiped sweat off her forehead with the back of her hand. ‘Don’t have anything else to do. Hah! As if.’ She raised a hand to summon one of the servers, and pointed to the drinks tray. ‘Look,’ she said after he’d taken the tray away, ‘I’m really happy to hear that your daughter turned up.’
‘My niece, actually, but thank you. We are, too.’
‘You and your husband want something to drink?’ she asked.
I decided not to correct her. ‘No, thanks. We’ll be picking up a sandwich at Surf’s Up shortly. We just wanted to ask you a couple of questions about yesterday.’
Kira dried her hands on a towel she had tucked into her waistband. ‘Sure. Shoot.’
‘You heard that my niece’s drink was drugged, didn’t you?’
‘Yeah, man, shook me up, I can tell you.’ She considered me with serious eyes then said, ‘God! You don’t think I had anything to do with that, do you? No way!’
I smiled in what I hoped was a reassuring way, not wanting to alarm her, afraid she’d clam up. ‘Relax, Kira. I don’t know how the drug got into Julie’s drink, but I’m fairly certain you didn’t do it. If you had, there would have been no reason for the security camera to have been covered up, would there?’
‘Well, that’s a relief.’
‘The only reason to do that would be if it was someone who wasn’t normally in Breakers! Someone who couldn’t afford to be seen.’
‘That makes sense.’
‘So, can you think back to yesterday? Did you notice anyone come in who didn’t belong?’
‘Two sours and a muddy moo!’ a waiter called out.
‘’Cuse me,’ Kira said. We watched while she filled two plastic glasses with lemonade and a third with chocolate milk, fitted plastic lids on the glasses then slid them down the bar, tossing three paper-wrapped straws in their wake.
When that was done, she turned back to us. ‘So, you asked if anybody came into Breakers! yesterday who didn’t belong. Gosh, it was so busy!’ She stared hard at the ceiling as if the answer was written on one of the crabs, lobsters, seashells or miniature surfboards that decorated the rafters. ‘A parent or two, couple of big brothers and sisters, but they never stay very long. Everyone else was staff. Wes, of course. He popped in from time to time looking for a particular kid when their parents showed up to collect them. Channing was here for a bit while waiting for Pia to finish her shift at the Oracle, sitting with a couple of boys at the end of the bar, teaching them card tricks.’ She grinned. ‘He’s so amazing. He wrote one boy’s name on an ace with a marker pen, then …’ She paused, blushed. ‘But you don’t want to know about that. That photographer from CLIA came through, taking pictures. He might have noticed something. Then, let’s see … ah, Ethan Hines, and …’
‘Hines? The activities director?’
‘Yeah. He’s, like, the big boss. He had this new guy with him called Liam – don’t know his last name – who’s been shadowing him this cruise. Liam’s going to be activities director on, let me think … yeah, on the Odyssey when it comes out of dry dock next month. Then Jack Westfall stopped by to shoot the breeze, like I have the time!’ She spread her hands, palms up, empty. ‘That’s about it!’
‘Jack Westfall is staff?’ I asked. ‘I saw him at the Neptune Club reception, so I assumed he was a passenger.’
‘Well, technically, he’s a passenger, but his wife runs the art auction concession, so he’s always around. We think of him as staff. I do, at least. He’s one of those “little acts of kindness” types, like yesterday when he saw I was so slammed he stuck the straws in the glasses for me.’ She leaned forward across the bar, spoke softly. ‘The stewards say he’s an awesome tipper!’
‘What was he wearing?’ David asked.
‘Wearing? Like I can remember!’ Kira whipped the towel out of her waistband and wiped away the wet rings on the bar. ‘Wait. He had a black shirt on. I remember thinking he should always wear black, makes you look thinner, especially if you’ve got that little paunch thing goin’ on.’
My heart raced and blood roared into my ears. I reached out blindly and grabbed David’s arm, then held on tightly. Perhaps I was gasping like
a beached fish, perhaps not, but when I could breathe again, I thanked Kira and dragged David out of Breakers! and hustled him down the staircase to a table in a quiet corner of the pool deck.
I thought I knew the answer to this question, but I asked it anyway. ‘David, who ran the art auction on the Voyager?’
‘I don’t even have to consult my files, Hannah. Eastaugh Galleries. The company belongs to Nicole Westfall. She inherited it from her father, an old-school art dealer out of London named Cyril Eastaugh. Moved the business to West Palm in the eighties. Jack sits on the board, but otherwise he just tags along for the ride.’
‘Do you realize what was going on yesterday when Julie was abducted? The art auction! As auctioneer, Nicole would have been busy, wouldn’t she? She would have been nowhere near their stateroom. What do you want to bet they have one of those suites that might look like “somebody’s living room” to a teenager totally spaced out on drugs? Jesus, I think I’m going to be sick!’
I didn’t realize that I had been gripping the table with both hands until I felt David’s hand on mine, squeezing gently. He kept his hand there while I continued to vent, running through a litany of medieval amusements that included thumbscrews, the rack, the wheel, and a device that could be heated in red-hot coals and applied to … well, never mind.
‘The auctions are always on the same day, you know,’ David said quietly. ‘The last day of the voyage but one. That’s the day Noelle Bursky disappeared, too.’
‘He put it in the straw,’ I said with conviction. ‘The sonofabitch put powdered Ketamine in a straw and stuck it into their drinks.’ I looked up and caught David’s eye. ‘What do we do?’
David took a deep breath. ‘What if we could get a positive I.D.?’
‘That means Julie.’
‘Yes.’
‘How the hell do we engineer that?’
‘They’ll be having a fire sale in the gallery today. Everything must go and all that crap. Jack Westfall is likely to be there. If not, you can try to catch him at dinner. The Westfalls are usually at the last seating, unless it’s lobster night at the Garuda Grill.’
‘How do you know all this, David?’
‘I’ve been watching these people for a long, long time.’
‘So, let’s say Julie identifies the creep. Then what?’
David’s gaze was steady. ‘Why don’t we cross that bridge when we come to it?’
NINETEEN
‘A few great magicians … have always realized that these ephemeral, temporary miracles could be restorative for their audiences. They listened for the brief pause between the end of the trick and the start of the applause – the split second when the entire audience shares a gasp of genuine amazement. At that moment there’s always been an honorable quality in illusion.’
Jim Steinmeyer, Hiding the Elephant,
Da Capo, 2004, p. 331
After I left David, I took the stairway down to deck six, waited in line for a cappuccino at Café Cino then carried it, casually sipping, as I wandered through the boutiques. I was heading for the art gallery.
Although a surprisingly large number of paintings had sold at the auction the previous day, the empty easels had been refilled, as if by magic, with equally unappealing offerings. I wondered if Nicole had artists chained in the bilges, churning them out.
She wasn’t there, but a young man who identified himself as Nicole’s assistant assured me that if I came back at two o’clock I could talk to Nicole directly.
‘I really, really like that Dutko over there,’ I gushed, pointing to a hideous oil of a dark-haired woman posing cheek-to-cheek with a horse to whom she bore an uncanny resemblance. ‘But Buddy would just murder me if I paid six hundred dollars for it.’
‘I’ll speak to Nicole about it. I’m sure she can do better than that.’ The man actually winked.
‘Thank you so much. It’s absolutely perfect for our family room.’
Back in our stateroom, I found Ruth sitting on her bed reading a book. When she saw me, she tossed the book to the floor. ‘There you are! It’s almost one o’clock! We were about to give up on you. I’m starving. Where do you want to go for lunch?’
I’d hustled and bustled so much that morning that the thought of fighting my way through the buffet lines at the Firebird, or trying to talk over the din, gave me instant indigestion. ‘Let’s be civilized and go up to the dining room,’ I said. ‘I’ll go collect the others.’
I stuck my head around the door. ‘Georgina?’
Breep-breep. Breep-breep. I nearly jumped out of my sandals. ‘What the heck is that?’
Georgina was rummaging through her cosmetic bag. ‘Get that for me, will you, Hannah?’
Ah, the phone. That white, ultra-mod moebius that sat on the desk in our cabins. I’d never heard it ring before.
I crossed to the desk and picked up. ‘Hello?’
‘I just wanted you to know I’m really glad you found your daughter,’ someone said.
‘I’m …’ I started to say, then thought better of it.
‘Look,’ the voice hurried on, low and urgent. ‘There’s something you need to … oh, shit!’
‘Who is this?’ I demanded, but the caller had already hung up.
‘Who was that?’ Georgina wanted to know.
I stared at the silent receiver, thinking that the voice sounded familiar. Male, for certain. Young, but not too young. Nervous. Connor Crawford? What was that all about?
Not wanting to send Georgina off on a killing spree, I shrugged and said, ‘Wrong number. Are you ready for lunch?’
‘Give us ten minutes,’ Georgina replied as she attacked her unruly mane with a hairbrush.
‘I’ll go ahead and get us a table, then,’ I told her. ‘Tell Ruth I’ll meet her there.’
Once I reached the dining room, I used the extra time to cruise among the tables, looking for David. I found him sitting alone at a table for two near a window, studying a menu. ‘May I?’ I pulled out the chair opposite him and sat down.
‘I’m expecting Oprah Winfrey to join me,’ he quipped, looking up at me over the top of the menu.
‘I won’t stay long, then,’ I said with a smile.
David Warren, cracking a joke. Would wonders ever cease? ‘A burden shared is a burden halved,’ someone a lot wiser than I had once said. Perhaps I had lightened his. I hoped so.
I leaned across the table and told David about the mysterious phone call I’d just received.
‘Who do you think it was?’ he asked after I’d finished.
‘Not sure. It could have been that young Crawford boy, the one who got Julie drunk.’
David tented his fingers and tapped his chin thoughtfully. ‘If the lad is interested in your niece, perhaps he’s been keeping tabs on her. It sounds like he may have seen something.’
‘My thoughts exactly.’
‘Only one way to find out,’ David said.
‘I know. Track him down and ask him.’
‘There you are!’ It was Ruth.
‘Gotta go, David,’ I said, rising. ‘If you see him first …’ I didn’t need to finish the sentence.
‘I know what to do.’
Two minutes later, at my request, our waiter escorted Ruth and me to a table for four tucked away in a private corner near the sweeping staircase that led up to the balcony.
When Georgina and Julie finally joined us, I was happy to see that Julie’s appetite had returned. ‘I want one of everything,’ she told the waiter brightly, ‘but I guess I’ll settle for the moussaka. And the lamb!’
Between the avgolemono soup and the loukoumades, I updated my family on the information David and I had learned that morning. Up to a point, that is.
‘Julie,’ I said. ‘I think we have identified the man who attacked you. We’re not one hundred percent sure, but I was hoping that if you saw him again, you might be able to recognize him.’
Julie lowered her fork. ‘I don’t know, Aunt Hannah. It still seems all fuzzy, lik
e a really bad dream.’
Georgina reached out and seized her daughter’s hand. ‘I don’t know, either, Hannah. I’m not so sure I want to put Julie through another ordeal. Hasn’t she suffered enough?’
Ruth stared at Georgina as if she’d just sprouted horns. ‘If Julie can positively identify the man, we can put the bastard away. You want him wandering the streets, Georgina? Preying on other unsuspecting young victims?’
‘Well, no. But …’
‘It’s OK, Mom.’ Julie turned to me. ‘Just tell me what to do.’
After lunch, we returned to our staterooms. At my instruction, Julie changed out of her shorts and tank top into a conservative pair of jeans and a ‘C is for Cure’ pink ribbon T-shirt borrowed from her mother. With her hair tucked into a ball cap, and a pair of dark glasses, I didn’t think Westfall would recognize her unless he got a close look, and I didn’t intend for that to happen.
When we arrived at the art gallery around a quarter after two, the close-out sale was in full swing. Nicole’s assistant sat in a chair behind the desk, writing up sales slips and wearing out his smile. Nicole herself was loudly explaining the investment value of a Thomas Kinkade signed and numbered limited-edition print and hand-embellished canvas called ‘Gingerbread Cottage’ to a woman leaning on a walker. I’d seen similar prints in a gallery in Annapolis for around two hundred and fifty dollars, so I hoped this woman wouldn’t shell out the five hundred dollars Nicole was asking for it.
Of Nicole’s husband, there was no sign.
‘Spooky,’ Ruth declared, indicating the Kinkade. ‘If you were Hansel and Gretel, would you go into that cottage? There’s a hellish glow behind every window. Something diabolical is going on in there, you just know it.’
We wandered on. Ruth kept us entertained by making up imaginary captions for the paintings as we browsed. ‘Randy later regretted mating his Rottweiler with an ostrich,’ she observed. Or, ‘And they said radiation from the H-bomb wouldn’t affect us at all,’ helping to keep the mood light, even though we knew it could be deadly serious the moment Jack Westfall decided to make an appearance.
Dark Passage Page 16
