by Liv Spector
Things with Josie had also stabilized. After her public abandonment and humiliation, she spent her time lying low, sitting quietly by the pool (always with her bikini top on), reading books by Deepak Chopra, meditating in her room, and listening to mournful Fiona Apple albums on repeat. But in the meantime, the dynamic between her and her father had changed greatly. The Asher imbroglio resulted in the two of them becoming closer than ever. Jack, it seemed, had felt Josie learned her lesson, and Josie was happy to be safe within the comforting confines of her father’s wealth and all the security it brought.
Lila was most interested in how the renewed affection between father and daughter impacted Elise. Feeling that her daughter had now defected to the enemy camp, Elise further retreated into her world of pills and bitterness. Lila started once again to think that her first theory was her best one—that Elise was the one who was going to pull the trigger.
Lila observed the push and pull of all the complicated relationships as she and Sam served breakfast that crystal-clear morning. It was September 5, 2008. In three days, Ava would be aboard the ship. Two days after that, Jack would be murdered.
She had to figure things out, and fast.
“Did you see this article about Daniel in the New York Times?” Charity Baines asked the group as she held out her iPad, almost knocking over the empty glass that once housed her second mimosa of the morning. It was only 9:30 and she was already drunk, but such was being stuck in the doldrums.
Jack, who was busy slurping up his morning miso soup, looked up at her. “No, what does it say?”
“Well, frankly, darling,” Charity said, “I don’t think you’ll like it.”
“If I cared about the opinions of those hacks at the Times, I don’t think I’d be where I am today, would I? Now spit it out.”
“To be brief,” Charity said, obviously relishing the fact that for the first time, everyone around the table was waiting to hear her talk, “it says that Daniel is a genius and you’re a . . .” She paused, and consulted the article on the screen. “Well, it says here, you’re a ‘destroyer of avant-garde culture,’ ” she read aloud with great pleasure.
“Let me see that,” Jack said, grabbing the iPad out of Charity’s hand.
In a mocking voice, Jack read, “ ‘Like John D. Rockefeller before him, who famously ordered the removal of the extraordinary mural he had commissioned from the late, great Diego Rivera, tech billionaire Jack Warren is the latest power-mad tycoon to commit art slaughter by destroying the brilliant work Warren himself had commissioned from the art provocateur Daniel Poe.’ ”
Jack handed back the iPad to Charity. “That’s the biggest bunch of bullshit I’ve ever heard. Aside from that imbecile comparing me to John D. Rockefeller, like it’s a bad thing.”
Charity went on, “It says that ever since your little row with Daniel, he’s never been a hotter commodity. It’s just great news. I’m quite relieved, actually. I never did say anything about it, but do you all remember when Daniel stormed in here yelling about how his commissions were canceled?”
“Duh. That’s not something anyone could forget,” Josie said with a roll of her eyes. Despite her new role as daddy’s docile little girl, the young heiress was acting, more or less, like a total brat toward everyone else on the yacht.
“Remember, Jack,” Charity continued, anxious to not lose her moment in the spotlight. “Daniel thought it was you who told people about the statue being thrown overboard? Well, actually, it was me. Sorry about that,” she said with a high-pitched, nervous giggle. “I told my art-dealer friend Franz and then he, the incorrigible gossip that he is, spilled the beans to everyone in his Rolodex. But I was mortified when Daniel said his commissions had been canceled. But now, see, it was good in the long run. Daniel’s never been hotter.” She sat back with her head held high, looking extremely pleased with herself.
“It was you who blabbed?” Jack said, outraged. “Then why’d you let me take his shit?”
“The man was on drugs!” Charity exclaimed like she was some kind of modern-day Scarlett O’Hara and not the battle-scarred Beltway veteran she was. “I was too frightened of him to speak!”
“Oh, don’t play the scared Southern belle act while I’m around,” her husband said. “I won’t buy it and I won’t let anyone else buy it either. You didn’t say anything because you wanted to get away with it.”
“Then why am I admitting to it now?” Charity asked.
“Simple. Because now that Daniel’s fine, it doesn’t matter,” Clarence answered.
“Oh, phooey. What do you know?” Charity said, with a dismissive wave of her hand.
“Actually,” Paul Mason said as he read the article, “it doesn’t seem like Daniel is fine at all. It says here that no one has seen or heard from him in days. All this information is just from his gallery.”
“He could be dead in a ditch somewhere,” Elise observed, with a small smile. She’d never been a fan of Daniel Poe.
“Oh, Mother. Stop being so fucking macabre all the time,” Josie said, really drawing out every syllable in “macabre.”
“It’s nice to have you back, Josie,” Jack said, happy to have someone else be cruel to his wife. Lila had never witnessed such a toxic marriage.
Just as breakfast was winding down and Lila was clearing the plates, Ben walked in. A pulse of excitement shot through her when she saw his face, but she suppressed her smile. She hadn’t spent any time alone with Ben since they shared that kiss in the hallway, and that was fine by her.
“Nicky, the captain asked to speak with you,” Ben said, keeping things strictly professional in tone. Many of the guests were still in the dining room.
Lila was surprised. She couldn’t think of one reason the captain would have to speak with her. “Did he say what it was about?”
Ben shook his head and shrugged his shoulders. “Nope. Just told me to come get you and bring you up to the bridge.” Lila could see from the look in his eyes that Ben was just as curious as Lila about what exactly was going on. After making sure that Sam could handle clearing away the remainder of the breakfast dishes by herself, Lila followed Ben up to the bridge.
There was a stiff silence between the two of them. Ben, it seemed to Lila, was in a sour mood, which was something she’d never seen him in before.
“Anything wrong?” Lila asked, hearing the awkwardness in her own voice. There was a part of her that was worried he was mad at her, which was something she didn’t want either him or her to feel for the other.
“It’s nothing. But . . .” Ben paused.
“But what?”
“I got some shitty news today is all. Jack told me that the helmsman we sailed with the other day is joining our team.”
“What’s wrong with that?”
“I’m the helmsman for Jack’s boat,” Ben said, his voice full of hurt and indignation. “I had no idea I was spending the whole day sailing with my replacement. But of course Jack didn’t tell me what he was planning. He never misses an opportunity to let me twist in the wind. To be honest, I’m fucking furious about it.”
Before Lila could ask any more questions, they walked into the bridge, where Bobby Nash was sitting by himself in a large leather captain’s chair. He was in front of five large flat screens flashing ever-changing information on the yacht’s course, the topography of the ocean’s surface, and other bits of data that Lila couldn’t fathom. It was a gorgeous space, part spaceship control room, part luxury automobile. It reminded her of the ornate beauty of Teddy’s time machine.
The bridge sat up at the highest point of the ship looking over the bow. The wall that Nash faced was all windows, slanted at a forty-five-degree angle, from which Lila could see an endless expanse of ocean, almost perfectly matching the cloudless robin’s-egg-blue sky. It was breathtaking.
She turned toward the opposite wall, over
looking the aft deck at the back of the yacht. From there, she had a perfect vantage point of the small corner on the second deck where, soon enough, Jack Warren would be murdered.
Without looking up from the middle screen in front of him, Captain Nash spoke to Ben. “Leave us.”
Ben and Lila exchanged glances. Neither knew what was going on. Lila shrugged and Ben quickly grabbed her hand, giving it a reassuring squeeze before he left the room.
Once Ben was gone, Nash got up from his seat and walked over to Lila. She’d never been this close to the captain before, and for the first time, she noticed the auburn strands streaked throughout his silver beard.
He stood a few inches away from her, too close for her comfort. His round potbelly was a deep inhale away from touching her own stomach. His small blue eyes fixed on her. “You’ve got something of mine.”
Perplexed, Lila stood there wondering what on earth he could be talking about. “Did you request something from the kitchen? If so, I apologize, but I didn’t get that order.” Lila gave him a demure smile, but his face remained stony.
“Don’t play games with me.” His thick Boston accent was almost comical to Lila, but the captain’s grim countenance let her know that nothing funny was going on. “Where is it?” He leaned closer to her, trying to intimidate her. Little did he know she could kick his ass in under a minute. She wasn’t afraid.
Lila took a couple steps away from the captain, putting her hands up in the air as a sign of surrender. “Listen, Captain. I’m in the dark here.” But then, in a flash, she knew just what he was talking about—the drugs. A question that had been nagging at her since she boarded the yacht was finally answered. The cocaine had all been for Captain Nash. But Lila kept her face neutral. Playing dumb seemed her best defense.
“I was told you’d be bringing me something. And now that we’re about to get to St. Barts, I need it.” She saw that there were beads of perspiration on his brow. He was on edge.
She remained silent. So, Nicky had lied to her after all, but Lila had expected as much. There was no way one person could move that much product on her own just selling to tourists. Lila was glad she knew enough to bring the drugs with her.
He came toward her and whispered directly into her ear, “If you even think of holding out on me, I’ll slit your throat so fast you won’t know what hit you.”
The pure violence of his threat startled Lila, but she could handle it.
“Oh, now I know what you’re talking about,” she said, with an empty-headed nod.
“Yeah, light dawns over Marblehead. Finally. Now do you fucking remember?”
She nodded, looking at the captain’s ferocious face. If ever she’d seen a man look like he was capable of murder, it was this man standing right in front of her. Nash hadn’t even been on her radar as a possible suspect.
Lila looked at him closely, which made him grow even testier.
“Well, don’t just stand there with your thumb up your ass. Go get it and bring it to me . . . NOW. I’ve got everyone out of my hair for the next thirty minutes, so you’ve got to hustle.”
“Okay,” Lila said as she continued to watch Nash with an intense curiosity. The captain was mixed up in some high-level shady business. It couldn’t be with any members of the Cali cartel, she knew that much. Because if Nicky was a runner between Nash and the cartel, the Colombians would’ve told Nash that she was a snitch, and someone would’ve tried to kill Lila before the boat even set sail. She needed to find out what drug cartel Nash ran with.
“Why are you still standing there?” the captain said angrily. He reached out to her, grabbing the front of her shirt and pulling her toward him. “Let me make one thing crystal clear. I’m a man who doesn’t like to be fucked with and I don’t like to be kept waiting. So, move,” he said, shoving her in the direction of the door.
She ran down several flights of stairs. She dashed by Sam, who was carefully dusting the Matisse collages and Picasso pencil drawings hanging in the hallway on the upper deck. She whooshed by Pedro and Mudge, who were scrubbing the floors of the main deck. She went all the way down to the lower level, grabbed the duffel bag from her room, then headed to the lifeboat in the engine room where she’d stashed the drugs.
She threw the duffel bag down on the ground, then carefully removed the wrapped packages of cocaine. She was just about to pile everything into the duffel when she heard Ben’s voice.
“Nicky?”
She nearly jumped out of her skin, but she tried to hide any sign of panic. How had she not heard him come into the engine room after her?
“Oh, hi, Ben,” she said as casually as she could even though she was currently holding a wrapped-up package of cocaine in her hand. She’d been caught. There was no denying it. So she decided to keep on doing what she was doing, hoping he wouldn’t have any idea what was going on. The gun and the money that were still stashed down in the tender were another problem for another day.
“What the hell are you doing?” he asked, walking toward her.
“Nothing. Just grabbing something.”
“I’m not an idiot, Nicky. I know what that is. I just can’t believe you’re mixed up in it.”
“If you’re not a part of it, then how do you even know what I’m doing?” Lila heard herself. She sounded defensive and ridiculous, but Ben had caught her red-handed. She didn’t know what else to do.
“I told you, I grew up on boats. And guess what? People smuggle shit on boats. It’s not that complicated. I’ve been at sea long enough to know what a kilo of coke looks like. This,” he said, scooping up one of the packages, “is what it looks like.” Then he slammed it back to the ground.
“This isn’t me,” Lila said to Ben. “I’m just helping someone out.”
“This isn’t you?” Ben spit back. He couldn’t even look her in the eye. “Who are you anyway? I checked up on Nicky Collins, turns out she has a shit ton of experience on yachts. Not green like you are, or are at least pretending to be.”
“Ben, please. Let me explain.” But then her mind went blank. She could only stare at him. After all, what could she possibly say to him to make him understand? The truth about who she was and what she was doing was something that no one on this yacht could ever, ever know.
“Is Nicky Collins even your real name?”
She paused, feeling her heart thump quickly in her chest. “Yes,” she lied.
“You know what? It doesn’t matter. Nothing you say matters anymore.” He turned and marched up the stairs to the main hallway of the lower level. Before he went through the door, he turned back to Lila, who still stood dumbly, with stacks of cocaine piled around her feet. “Just stay away from me. I’ve worked my whole life to be where I am. And I won’t risk you putting any of it in jeopardy.”
Once he had gone, Lila exhaled. “Fuuuuuck,” she said as she bent over, stuffing the drugs in the bag. She knew she’d be pushing it with Nash if she took too much time delivering the coke. As she hustled back up to the bridge, feeling the wrapped bricks of drugs bump around in the bag, she realized what a tricky position she’d found herself in. What Ben knew could be detrimental to her completing her mission. He’d discovered she wasn’t Nicky Collins. And worst of all, he knew she had stashed drugs on board, which not only meant she’d get thrown off the boat; it also meant possible jail time, which could result in her being forever stuck in the past.
The question was, what could she do next? She could do what Ben wanted—stay far away from him and pray that he wouldn’t say a word. But that was too passive a plan for the likes of Lila.
As she climbed her way to the bridge, she decided it might be better to pull Ben closer, if he’d let her. He had feelings for her, or at least he used to. Maybe her best bet was to play on those feelings. If she could seduce him and get him on her side, she might be safer than letting him go without a fight.
&nbs
p; “Here you go, Captain,” Lila said, dropping the heavy bag at Nash’s feet.
“About fucking time.” Nash scowled as he quickly crouched down to inspect the contents. When he found everything in place, Lila saw a wave of relief wash over him. He stood up and flung the bag over his shoulder. “You’re lucky everything is square because I can’t tell you what a fucking pain you’ve been,” he said, shaking his head. “Edna demanded that you be let go more times than I can count. And I had to save your incompetent ass every step of the way.”
Lila thought back to all the times she’d been worried about losing her job. Now she knew why she’d been allowed to stay. It was all thanks to Captain Bobby Nash, her silver-bearded, drug-running fairy godmother.
“So now what?” Lila asked.
“So now, nothing. This never happened. I’ll do what I do and you’ll work until the end of this trip and then you’re free to go back to wherever you came from. Don’t say a word to anyone, or you’re dead. Got it?”
“Got it,” Lila said as she started to think about her next move. Whether this hundred grand of cocaine was connected to Jack’s murder was something she’d have to figure out, and fast.
CHAPTER 19
IT WAS 5:22 A.M., and Lila’s alarm was due to go off in just a few minutes, but she was already awake. Despite her profound physical and emotional exhaustion, sleep had been an impossibility.
With Jack Warren’s death mere days away, there were so many loose ends and so many potential suspects that her mind couldn’t slow down. She stared out into the blinding darkness of her cabin as she mentally sorted through everyone on the boat for what must have been the hundredth time that night, cataloging their motives for murder. Bobby Nash was only the latest to join the list of suspects, all of whom were potentially able—and willing—to gun Jack down. Seth. Daniel Poe. Josie and Asher. And of course, Elise.
