Dark Passage

by Marcia Talley

  I didn’t speak for a few minutes. ‘Tom and David had a scuffle. Tragically, one of them fell overboard. Then the other one jumped in after him.’

  Next to me, Pia stirred. ‘Of course,’ she said in a quiet voice. ‘That’s exactly what happened.’

  A few minutes later, as we turned to go, Pia asked, ‘Where’s Julie? She said she wanted to see me after the show.’

  My heart did a quick rat-a-tat-tat. ‘Oh my God, I’ve forgotten about Julie! Come on!’ As we raced back to the theater, I explained briefly about Julie’s clever hiding place. ‘She’s been hiding in there for over an hour! What is wrong with me?’

  But I needn’t have worried. We found Julie sitting on the lip of the stage, feet dangling. On the stage next to her sat Connor Crawford.

  ‘Julie!’

  My niece beamed. ‘I got tired of waiting, so I peeked out through the little …’ Her eyebrows shot under her bangs, and she looked straight at Pia. ‘What?’

  Pia placed a finger to her lips, wagged her head from side to side and said, ‘Shhhh. Magicians’ code.’

  After the drama of the evening, it felt good to laugh.

  The atmosphere quickly grew serious again as I told Julie and Connor what had just happened. ‘We lost them both overboard,’ Pia said. ‘But one has been rescued.’

  ‘Oh my God!’ Then, ‘I’m praying that it’s David,’ Julie said quietly. ‘He always believed in me.’

  Connor launched himself onto his feet. ‘I just came to say goodbye to Julie. I hope you don’t mind.’

  ‘Of course that’s OK, Connor. Julie owes you a great deal of thanks. We all do.’

  He turned to Julie. ‘Well, bye.’ He patted his pocket. ‘I have your email.’

  She looked upward at him through her lashes. ‘’Bye.’

  Connor studied his shoes for a moment, then turned and walked out of the theater.

  ‘Well, Julie,’ I said. ‘Do you suppose he’s planning to wait four years until you turn eighteen?’

  Julie flushed. ‘Something like that.’

  ‘He’ll be twenty-five.’

  ‘Aunt Hannah! You’re embarrassing me.’

  ‘I’m just teasing, sweetie. Come on, it’s time to find your mother. After all this excitement, do you think she’s still in the hot tub?’

  ‘Will I see you in the morning, Hannah?’ Pia asked as we prepared to go.

  I looped my arm through hers. ‘I hope so. But if not, let’s keep in touch. Do you Facebook?’

  ‘I do.’

  ‘I’ll friend you, then.’

  ‘I’d like that.’

  I was too strung out to sleep.

  Long after Julie and my sisters had gone to bed, I sat on my bunk in my pajamas, staring into the depths of my suitcase, wondering what the following day would bring. Had David survived? Maybe he’d be better off … I shook away the thought. Nobody, in my opinion, was better off dead. There should always be a tomorrow, a chance to start a better life.

  Ruth coughed, tugged at her duvet and opened an eye. ‘Are you all right, Hannah?’

  ‘I’m trying to gin up the energy to pack.’

  ‘Well, the elves aren’t going to do it for you, and if it’s not out in the hall before two, you’ll have to carry it off the boat yourself.’ She rolled over, faced the wall. ‘A word to the wise,’ she murmured.

  I dumped the contents of my half of the closet into the suitcase, tucked shoes around the edges, laid a couple of paperback books on top and zipped it shut. After making sure that the luggage labels were secure, I set the bag out in the passageway with hundreds of others, extending for what seemed like miles in both directions.

  That done, I snagged a bottle of water and let myself out onto the balcony. I picked my favorite of the two chairs, slouched down in it comfortably, and propped both feet up on the balcony rail.

  On moonless nights, the sea is as black and sleek as a raven’s back. I stared into the inky darkness, then blinked. Where the blue-black sky met the black of the sea, lights were strung like an amber necklace along the horizon. The Chesapeake Bay Bridge Tunnel. We were approaching the mouth of the Bay.

  I nipped inside for my iPhone, powered it on and when a three-bar signal appeared, I took it out on the balcony and telephoned Paul.

  The meeting with the F.B.I. had gone well, he thought. Based on what the Baltimore agents had told him, Paul fully expected them to meet the ship in the morning.

  ‘There’s a possibility that Channing might not be aboard,’ I told him.

  Paul snorted. ‘No? So what happened? He sprout wings?’

  ‘He jumped overboard tonight, in a manner of speaking.’ I explained about David forcing Channing on to the chair, Channing’s tumble, and then David jumping over the side himself. ‘Maybe it was some sort of crazy rescue attempt,’ I added. ‘Or maybe not. They picked up one of the men, but we don’t know which. They’re still out looking for the other – at least, they were a couple of hours ago.’

  ‘I worry about you, Hannah. Is everybody all right?’

  ‘A little beat up, perhaps, but we’re all fine, honest. Even Julie’s pretty solid.’

  ‘We can’t wait to see you, sweetheart. We’ll be at the terminal to meet you tomorrow, all three of us.’

  ‘Bring leis,’ I said, ‘and hula girls.’

  Back in our cabin, I considered the selection of games on my iPhone without enthusiasm, still thinking about my conversation with Paul. Who had been rescued? I couldn’t sleep until I knew.

  Moving quietly so as not to disturb Ruth, I pulled a T-shirt on over my red-plaid pajama bottoms and slipped into a pair of flip-flops. I opened the cabin door a crack and eased out into the corridor.

  A surprising number of people were abroad in the night. While most of the passengers slept, crew members busily collected luggage from in front of cabin doors, schlepping them in carts down to the bowels of the ship where they would await transfer to the terminal’s baggage claim facility in the morning.

  Walking slowly so as not to draw too much attention to myself, I made my way forward along deck four to the stairway that would take me down a level to deck three. As I passed the elevator, a man was explaining to his po-faced wife how he’d lost nearly two hundred dollars on the slots. On the stairs, I passed a young couple, giggling as they ricocheting from one banister to the other, clutching one another for support as they staggered back to their cabin, presumably from one of the late-night bars.

  As I emerged on deck three, I had to swerve to avoid running into a guy balancing a tray loaded with beverage cups, chip packets and a small stack of triangular boxes that I knew contained individual slices of pizza. ‘Ball game,’ he explained as he stepped aside to let me pass. ‘Nationals at Philadelphia.’

  I took in the stylized ‘N’ on his cap. ‘Go Nats,’ I said, without much enthusiasm.

  There was no guard posted outside the door to the clinic, which I took as a good sign. Cautiously, I peered inside. The nurse who had cared for Julie earlier sat at a desk in the outer office, filling in the blanks on a form with a black pen.

  ‘Jeannie?’

  The nurse started, looking around in confusion before catching sight of me in the doorway.

  ‘Sorry,’ I said. ‘Didn’t mean to startle you.’

  Worried lines creased her brow. ‘Is Julie …?’

  ‘Julie’s fine. Now that her attacker has been identified, I think she’ll be able to sleep a little easier.’

  ‘I heard,’ Jeannie said.

  ‘Is he …?’ I gestured toward the door that led into the examination room.

  ‘I could get in trouble,’ she said, reading my mind.

  ‘Sorry,’ I managed, choking up. ‘It’s just that David Warren and I have grown pretty close. If he’s still out there somewhere …’ I took a deep, steadying breath. ‘I really need to know.’

  Jeannie rose without speaking and crossed to the door, gesturing for me to follow her. She turned the knob and slowly pushed it open.r />
  Inside the examination room, on a gurney and covered by a lightweight blanket, lay David Warren. He appeared to be sleeping. I grabbed the doorframe, weak-kneed with relief.

  ‘Thank God!’ I whispered.

  In addition to the bandage on his forehead – courtesy of Jack Westfall – David now sported a neon-blue air splint on his right arm. But the biggest surprise was who sat on a chair next to the gurney: Elda Homer. Her hair a bit disheveled, but still dressed in her evening finery, she held David’s good left hand.

  My heart flopped in my chest, and I couldn’t suppress a smile.

  We backed away silently. ‘She’s been by his side for a couple of hours,’ Jeannie whispered back as she closed the door on the quiet domestic scene. ‘Like you, she just showed up. David asked her to stay.’

  ‘Good,’ I said, feeling slightly choked. Perhaps David had found something – or someone – to live for after all.

  ‘Is he going to be OK?’ I asked the nurse.

  ‘I can’t comment on a patient’s medical condition, you know that,’ she said kindly.

  ‘But would you do me a favor? When he wakes up, tell him Hannah Ives was here.’

  ‘I’ll do that,’ she said, touching my arm.

  I couldn’t speak for a moment. ‘Well, that’s it, then,’ I eventually croaked, completely undone. I managed to hold it together until I got out into the corridor, where tears of relief began to spill from my eyes and course hotly down my cheeks.

  I gave into the tears, until there were none left to cry.

  TWENTY-FIVE

  ‘If it’s calculated in a notebook, it ends up being geometry. If it’s written or researched, it might be history. When people are watching, it has the potential of being magic.’

  Jim Steinmeyer, Hiding the Elephant,

  Da Capo, 2004, p. 329

  Long before dawn, while most of the passengers slept, the Islander passed under the Francis Scott Key Bridge, veered left at Fort McHenry, and ghosted into its berth at the Port of Baltimore. As the great white ship waited for the first rays of the sun to light its stacks, its generators thrummed, contented. Islander was prepared for whatever the day would bring.

  Beyond our window, the Baltimore sky burned gold with reflections from the arc lamps that lined the city’s streets, streets that glistened in the gentle rain like black coal.

  Eventually, dawn crept in out of the east, defining a building, the cars in the parking lot, a highway sign. When it was bright enough that I could read the sign – Fort McHenry Tunnel Restrictions – dock workers materialized, rolling the gangplank up to the ship, where they made it fast.

  Everything was ready.

  ‘I thought they said we would disembark at seven,’ a bulky woman complained to me in the Firebird café. She’d nearly run me down as I made the mistake of walking between her and the Belgian waffle machine. She would have been better off in the fresh fruit and Special K line, I thought sourly as I found a tray, filled four mugs with coffee from a pair of urns, then carried them back to our cabins to await the announcements I knew would be coming.

  At eight o’clock, the intercom clicked, hummed. The voice of the captain filled our small cabin as he apologized for the delay and asked for our patience. ‘As you have probably heard, last night we had a tragic overboard situation. I have nothing but high praise for the passengers on deck who reacted quickly, tossing life rings to the victims and calling in the alarm. Also, kudos need to be accorded to the crew of Islander’s launch, whose prompt response resulted in the rescue of one victim who is now being treated in the medical unit for his injuries, and who is expected to make a full recovery.’

  ‘How about the other guy?’ I shouted at the intercom.

  Ruth scowled a warning. ‘Shut up and listen, Hannah.’

  ‘I’ve been in communication with the United States Coast Guard this morning,’ the captain continued, ‘and I regret to report that despite heroic efforts on the part of their officers and crew, the second victim, a Phoenix Cruise Lines staff member from San Diego, California, has yet to be found. But, the search continues.’

  ‘Good riddance to bad rubbish,’ Ruth muttered.

  ‘Still, I hoped …’ I started to say, then the tears began again.

  Ruth handed me a box of tissues, and took one herself. ‘At least they found David,’ she sniffed.

  ‘Yes. At least, there’s that.’

  I watched the wharf from the balcony, drinking coffee by the gallon. Because the gangway was covered, and connected directly to the terminal, I never saw the F.B.I. agents arrive.

  That they had was confirmed by a knock on our door. Officer Molly Fortune was there to escort us to a waiting area outside a glassed-in conference center on deck six, not far from the elegant Garuda Grill.

  One by one we were called in before a panel of serious-faced F.B.I. agents. Our statements were recorded, and affidavits signed. When I came out of the room, Pia was waiting for her turn. We didn’t speak, but she gave me a subtle thumbs up as she passed me to go in.

  They kept Julie Lynn the longest, but when she finally came out, Molly Fortune said we were free to go.

  Is that all there is? I wondered.

  Eight hours later, after a corned beef and cabbage dinner around the corner at our favorite neighborhood restaurant, Galway Bay, where all talk of cruises was put off limits, Paul and I settled in on the living room sofa to watch the news. CNN hadn’t picked up the story, but it was the lead on WBAL-TV.

  How the press had received the tip-off, I’ll never know, but the reporter read the story over a video of David Warren being medevaced from the ship to Johns Hopkins, strapped to a stretcher. ‘The victim received multiple fractures, but is expected to survive.

  ‘The body of the second victim,’ the reporter continued, ‘was found early this morning near the town of Cape Henry on Maryland’s eastern shore. Thomas Channing, a well-known magician from San Diego, sources tell us, was sucked into the ship’s propellers and died instantly.’

  I thought about how pleased Channing had been with his new illusion, the Turbine of Terror, and shuddered.

  Nestled in the comfort of my husband’s arms, I told Paul the whole sorry tale, from the frantic time when Julie went missing right up to when Tom and David had both plunged into the sea.

  ‘What I don’t understand,’ Paul said once I’d finished, ‘is how Channing managed to access Buck Carney’s room. Carney sounds like a weirdo too, by all accounts – are you sure he wasn’t involved in some way?’

  ‘No, it was purely a case of mistaken identity by Julie. David didn’t manage to force it out of Channing before he fell overboard, but Channing was very clever. Buck was a cruise regular who was constantly out and about around the ship, glued to his camera, preoccupied with shipboard events. He’s also the perfect suspect – a creepy photographer with stalking tendencies would go straight to the top of anybody’s suspect list. I might have worked it out earlier if I’d asked the steward the right question.’

  ‘What question was that?’

  ‘Who was in cabin 8620.’

  Paul was silent for a moment, working it out. ‘Ah!’

  ‘Exactly,’ I said. ‘The lock on Carney’s door would have been child’s play to a lockmaster like Channing and, once inside, he could easily drag his victims through the communicating door that led into his own cabin.’

  Paul kissed the top of my head. ‘Clever girl.’

  ‘Thank you,’ I said.

  Paul gave me a hug. ‘So, other than that, Mrs Lincoln, how did you enjoy the cruise?’

  ‘Ha! Don’t know about my sisters, but I, for one, am all cruised out.’

  ‘Do you have anything good at all to report?’

  I thought for a minute. ‘Yup. I made some new friends. The hot tubs were divine. And, I’m now an expert on signal codes. “Adam, Adam, Adam …” I hope I never have to hear that one again. Sierra means they’re sending a stretcher, and Oscar means man overboard.’ I snuggled closer. ‘O
ne of the bartenders who used to work for Disney told me that Code Winnie means there are feces in the swimming pool.’

  Paul was so quiet, that I thought he didn’t get it.

  I jabbed him in the ribs with my elbow. ‘Winnie the Pooh, silly.’

  He guffawed. ‘Don’t suppose there’s a Whiskey, Whiskey, Whiskey … meaning the bar is now open.’

  I rocked my head back and forth against his chest. ‘Hung out in a lot of bars this cruise, but never heard that one, I’m afraid. Alpha means fire, and Delta stands for a disaster of some kind.’ I swiveled my head around so I could look into his face. ‘Tango, Tango, Foxtrot!’

  ‘Huh?’

  I giggled liked a teenager. ‘Let’s dance.’

  Paul cradled my head in his hands. ‘Code Hannah, Hannah, Hannah.’

  ‘And what does that mean?’

  He bent his head and brought his lips to mine. When I came up for air, Paul said, ‘It means, “let’s go to bed.” ’

  After sharing a room with my sister for more than a week, it would have been crazy to refuse.