THIRTY-SEVEN
Mornings aboard the Caribbean Mermaid were an absolute dream. Brilliant sunshine and gentle breezes, cloudless skies and calm seas were the norm. Today we were docked at St. Thomas, in the lush, gorgeous Virgin Islands. Unbelievable.
Mike and I enjoyed a light breakfast of Belgian waffles, scrambled eggs, bacon, sausage and ham. We felt that the luscious tropical fruits we also devoured would somehow offset the calorie-rich delicacies of the breakfast buffet. Yes, elastic was a marvelous invention. And the decision to place elastic in the waistband of ladies’ pants was near to brilliant.
“Mike,” I asked between mouthfuls of the wondrous breakfast foods, “I still don’t understand about you and Clarice. I mean, why would she come and tell me you’d been arrested? She seemed so sincere, and I knew you were out and about and since I wasn’t around to keep an eye on you, anything could’ve happened.”
“Thanks a lot,” Mike replied, pretending indignation. “I didn’t realize you knew I’d left the cabin. When I ran into Clarice and then Dr. Connolly, well…” Mike paused. A puzzled look crossed her face.
“You know, this whole mystery thing was supposed to be something we did together. From the very beginning, we’ve been sent off on separate investigations. Like you running off to that meeting yesterday. You didn’t even tell me you were going.” I know I sounded accusing.
Mike made a face. “Bernie, I guess I just got caught up in the moment. You know I trust you and I’d never really keep things from you…indefinitely. I mean, I’d have eventually told you all about it. Sometimes it’s just fun to know a little bit more than you do since you always seem to know it all. I never dreamed you’d follow me. I mean, that’s pretty sneaky, too, if you ask me.”
“Hold the phone, kiddo,” I cautioned. “I’m not the one who gave Clarice information about you, or made a spectacle of myself at the meeting, or…” I suddenly realized I’d said too much.
“Bernadette North. You were there for the whole thing? Well, then you know that Hernando is planning to do something different from the original plan. What a bummer this whole mystery element has been, except for the clues, which don’t mean anything. They’re sort of fun, though,” Mike continued, “even though utterly useless.”
“Yes, well, maybe. My problem is, I think Clarice stole something from me,” I said.
Mike dropped her fork with a loud clatter. “No way!”
“Yes, yes, it’s true, I’m afraid. When I returned to my room, I had a small scroll on the bed. Clarice came along, left, and darn if it hadn’t disappeared.”
Mike shook her head. “It just goes to show you that we really can’t trust anyone, can we?”
For just the fleetest of moments, a smile flickered across her sunburned face. The little stinker thought it was pretty cool that I’d been duped. Having the upper hand makes Mike a happy gal, and right now, she was positively radiant.
Then she stiffened in her chair. “Oh, Lord…Bernie, don’t look now, but Loretta just arrived.”
I whipped my head around to see the breathtaking Loretta, very much interested in what horror she had in store for us today.
“Stop it,” Mike hissed. “I just told you not to look and you looked. I don’t want her thinking we’re spying on her or anything. I’ve had enough of that woman.”
“Listen you ninny, everyone looks when you say don’t look. What did you expect? I mean, jeez. Look at her. She screams, ‘look at me’.”
Loretta did indeed monopolize the scene. She made a grand entrance. The attendants scrambled to direct her to a table for two rather than a cozy yet snug-fitting booth. Dressed to go ashore? You bet. Wrapped in yards and yards of brightly striped terrycloth, like an enormous beach towel fashioned into a dress, she was something to behold. Her shock of red hair was disproportionate to her round but smallish face, and her sunglasses, embedded in the mess added to her glamorous self-image. An enormous letter L emblazoned the beach bag she clutched.
Flouncing onto a chair, which groaned but held, Loretta waited for attention from the staff. She had everyone’s attention, anyway; did every time she appeared anywhere. St. Thomas would never be quite the same once she stepped ashore.
“Please,” Mike interrupted my reverie, “let’s get out of here before she sees me.”
“Good idea.”
Gathering our belongings, Mike and I headed to the promenade deck for an early start on our planned activities for the day. We stopped at the main desk on the lowest level to show passports and check for messages. I had a message in a small envelope with no markings. I shoved it into my pants pocket for later. Who knew? It could be another clue or a message from Hernando…or even Clarice, for that matter. Anyway, we were on a mission right then and there wasn’t time.
Mike had dreamed about swimming with dolphins ever since she visited Sea World as a little girl. The travel brochures advertised close and personal encounters with the kings of the sea: those cute, sleek, bottle-nosed dolphins on the travelogues and in pictures. Mike was determined to swim among them, and she commissioned me to snap the obligatory photos, proving to any and all skeptics that she did, indeed, fulfill the dream.
Now, I like dolphins well enough, but I wouldn’t necessarily invite one to dinner. Mike, on the other hand, saw no social barriers in meeting the dolphins on their own turf…or, I should say, their own surf. Anyway, it would cost a bundle to do this, but she’d tucked aside a whopping fifty dollars to do the trick, and swore me to secrecy. Joe must never know the actual cost of such a frivolous endeavor…until she was good and ready to enlighten him.
The shuttle arrived at the dock. We were among the first to pile on. The brilliant sunshine beat down on our tram, as we wound through the lanes leading to the welcome center, where we’d line up transportation for the day’s adventures. Mike was on a mission, which meant it was best to just step aside and let her have her way. As she joined the line for the Dolphin Swim, I flopped into a huge wicker rocking chair on the verandah and watched the busy world of an island, swarming with tourists. What an incredible morning. It didn’t get any better than this.
Ten minutes passed; I was getting the slightest bit edgy. Unable to take a second more, I lumbered to my feet just as Mike tooled around the corner, wearing a big grin. She waved two tickets before my face.
“I’ve got them. Two tickets to the adventure of a lifetime. We’re actually going to swim with dolphins. Let’s get going.” Mike turned on her heel and headed for the tram.
THIRTY-EIGHT
“Whoa, there. Wait a minute, friend.” I pulled her to a stop. “What do you mean, two tickets? I hope you’re not planning on me jumping in that pool and floundering around with those giant fish.”
Mike looked shocked. “Fish? Dolphins aren’t fish, Bernadette. They’re mammals. For crying out loud. Of course we’re doing this together. Why would I do it by myself?”
“Because you’re an idiot, or impulsive, or just don’t have a shred of common sense. Furthermore, I didn’t bring my bathing suit,” I replied, incensed at the notion of showing myself in a very public place in my swimsuit, bobbing around with giant fishy creatures. Now, Mike has long considered herself one with ocean, sort of a born-again pseudo-mermaid, having grown up in Washington State. I, on the other hand, am from land-locked Missouri.
“Come on, Bernie. Be a good sport,” Mike urged. “You can do this. I know you can. I already bought the tickets.”
“No, I can’t. No, I won’t. There’s no way you’re going to snooker me into this one, Mike, no matter how much you beg. I’ll take pictures and encourage you and laugh at you, but I won’t make a fool of myself, freaking out in public for you or anyone else.”
Mike seemed hurt and annoyed. Lord only knew how much she was out for two tickets. But darn, she’d just have to swim twice to make it all worth the expense.
We sauntered to the tram that would take us to the Dolphin Swim Pool. The tram was a cute little truck with back-to-back seating for
twenty customers and a bright, striped awning to shield them from the intense sunshine. Motoring down the sandy, twisting lane, surrounded by happy, chattering tourists, a nervous Mike sat mute, while I seethed with annoyance.
Making a point to ignore her for at least a few minutes, I checked out the rest of the passengers. I didn’t recognize anyone, but they all seemed upbeat. All, that is, except one nattily dressed gentleman sporting a cane, who occupied a seat at the very back of the little tram…his gaze fixed on me.
Since I could sort of hide my gaze behind my sunglasses, I scoped him out without being too obvious. Hernando. Creepy. Even creepier, he knew I knew he was watching me. He raised a forefinger to his lips, so I froze in place and stared straight ahead.
Something very peculiar indeed was going on with this cruise. I mean, just when you least expected it, something strange happened, or a character made an appearance—or a disappearance. And most of the time, Mike and I weren’t even on the same page of the whole wacky story.
Whatever. Nothing I could do about it right now. So I smiled, shrugged, and decided this would be the perfect way to get even. Mike would splash around with the dolphins, and I’d swim ahead in the mystery.
Part way down to the beach we saw an area cordoned off for the dolphin swim. Mike squirmed with delight like a little kid. I refrained from making snide comments as she advised me over and over how to take pictures, and how she’d like lots of different shots. I nodded, but all the while, I couldn’t stop wondering about Hernando, and what he’d say when he got the opportunity.
Mike, oblivious, thrust her purse into my hands. “Okay. I’m going to get ready. Watch my purse and take lots of pictures. Oh, my gosh, I’m so excited.”
“Calm down. You’ll do fine. I’ll take lots of pictures.” I gave her a gentle shove then looped her purse along with mine on my left shoulder. Mike hurried out of her capris and blouse, having worn her swimsuit underneath. It was so warm in this tropical clime, she didn’t care whether she was wet when she re-dressed. She’d dry soon enough. It was all in the name of glory, anyway.
We walked out onto the deck staging area where the attendants told us that the dolphins, while friendly and gentle, were sometime a bit unpredictable. Every swimmer donned a life vest, and then stepped down the short ladder into the pool. As Mike descended into the clear blue water, she cautioned me once again about her photo expectations. Within minutes, all the swimmers were bobbing about, awaiting the arrival of Minnie and Moochie, the two dolphins trained to thrill and entertain.
In a rush of surf and spray, Minnie and Moochie dashed onto the scene. A huge spray of water splashed Mike’s face. She squinted and wrinkled her nose against the salty attack. Snap. I took her picture.
The swimmers called the dolphins’ names, petted them, thrashed water beside them, and hung on to dorsal fins as the sweet-faced characters frolicked and played. Mike paddled one way and another, never quite making a personal encounter. She bobbed about in the water, looking a bit lost, with nary a dolphin around her. Snap. I took her picture.
At that moment, I sensed I wasn’t alone on my little perch. Hernando had sidled up next to me. I whirled around to confront this enigmatic shadow of mine. “Hernando,” I murmured.
“Yes. I must beg your forgiveness for this intrusion on your little excursion, Ms. North, but I must speak and you must listen. Please, act naturally and continue with what you are doing, but listen very carefully.”
To say I was intrigued would be an understatement. Mike had finally crawled onto the back of Minnie—or was it Moochie? She traveled from one end of the pool to the other, leaving a frothy wake and waving at me frantically. Ignoring Hernando, I focused the camera for a great shot. Minnie did a tail flip or something, and Mike flew off her back, head over heels, her wide hiney winking at the brilliant sunshine.
Snap. I took her picture. Granted, the dolphin didn’t appear in the frame, but I thought it was a great shot nevertheless. Besides, I was rather anxious to hear what Hernando had to say so was just a bit distracted at the moment.
“You recently lost this, didn’t you?” Hernando poked me with the scroll Clarice had pilfered the previous afternoon.
I snatched the scroll from his hand, shoved it deep into my bag, and hissed, “What is this all about—why did Clarice take it? Hmmm? Is it an important clue? And why, in heaven’s name, are you here? You’re awfully interested in me.” My eyes narrowed. “You’re not stalking everyone are you? If so, leave me out of it. I don’t like it and I don’t understand it,” I rattled on, filled with overflowing curiosity.
“You are not supposed to understand, my dear. If you understood it all, then it would not be a mystery, would it? Now, it is imperative that you read the directions on your scroll, and do not worry about Clarice. Your clue was retrieved from her before she could utilize it for her own gain. So very important that you trust no one. Even your friend.” He nodded toward Mike.
Mike was smiling and waving as she played catch with Minnie and Moochie. They bounced the ball from nose to nose to swimmer to nose to swimmer. Just as the ball came to Mike, the playful dolphins bounced the ball quite smartly off the top of her head, into the air, then off her nose.
Snap. I took her picture.
The fifteen-minute swim was over in a flash. The weary and excited swimmers reluctantly climbed the short ladder out of the pool. Mike dashed over to me as the sly Hernando disappeared into the milling crowd.
“Did you see me? Wasn’t it amazing? I can’t wait to see my pictures,” Mike gushed. “How many did you get?”
“Uh, I got a few,” I mumbled.
“Oh, don’t mess with me, Bernie,” Mike replied with a big smile. “I know you did a great job. You always do. Let’s see them,” she urged, dripping, shaking, teeth chattering.
Reluctantly, I handed Mike her digital camera. She scrolled through the paltry four photos in seconds, and then stared at me, dumbfounded.
“This is it?” she asked, eyebrows disappearing into tangled bangs. “You got four lousy pictures? Here I am squinting at the sun. And here I am with water going up my nose. Oh, look, here’s my butt. Great picture, Bernie. And here’s one of the ball bouncing on my head…now that’s a great action shot. Where the heck are the dolphins? How could you have screwed this up? What were you doing instead of taking the pictures? Did something distract you from your best friend’s amazing moment in time? How could you?” Mike berated and rightly so.
I opened my mouth but she wasn’t finished lambasting me. “I suppose I could go in again…use the ticket you were supposed to use, but, gosh darn it, Bernadette North. That was exhausting. I’m winded. I’m tired. I don’t think I could go in again. Besides, despite the temperature, I’m chilled. Ohhh, darn you.”
Since I could offer no reasonable explanation without blowing Hernando’s cover, I just had to take it. Mike was right. No excuse for the horrible photos. But at least I could make copies of her backside winking at the sun and mail them to her periodically, just to keep her humble. In the meantime, I decided to pay her for the stupid extra ticket just to make amends. Maybe we could give it away, and some little kid would get an extra thrill of an additional fifteen minutes with Minnie and Moochie. Rationalization has always been one of my strongest life skills.
THIRTY-NINE
It took Mike almost an hour to get over being annoyed, but eventually the beautiful day won her over. Her happy disposition returned and we wandered Souvenir Row looking for more bargains. Mike was still searching for the perfect little gift for herself—a remembrance of the cruise and a reminder of the mystery. It had to be just the right item, but she had no idea what she wanted. We visited shop after shop, admiring all sorts of treasures, and then walked away without a purchase.
For lunch, we grabbed a quick bite at Trudy’s Beachfront Café, and observed our fellow tourists comb the shops for bargains. We wanted to do something truly tropical, reasonably priced, yet memorable. I suggested one of those temporary henna tatt
oos. Now, that would send Jack and Joe over the edge. We toyed with the idea of having some of our hair braided and beaded, not exactly like Bo Derek in the movie “10”, but just enough to say that we’d done it. You know, flirted a bit with the wild side.
However, when we glanced into the Bead ‘n’ Braid, we saw that Charmaine and Veronica were already getting the full treatment. Never in a million years would we want them to think anything they did or wore or said was worth imitating, so the bead shop was dismissed.
As we strolled along the charming streets, I kept glancing down into my bag. Just about dying to read the scroll, but not wanting to risk Mike seeing. If she knew my preoccupation with the mystery had caused the photo fiasco, there’d be no living with her. When Mike took a sharp turn into a sea glass jewelry shop, I was alone for a moment. Grabbing the note, I unrolled it and scanned the few words:
Be in your cabin at 4:00 p.m. on the fourth day of your journey.
It wasn’t exactly a clue, more of an order. But I guess that’s why Hernando had to catch up with me and be sure I received the purloined message. At least I had the chance to follow through, though getting Mike back to the ship before the 6:00 p.m. deadline would take a little maneuvering.
Arm in arm, we sauntered along the sunny lane, pointing and gawking and laughing like typical tourists. Rounding a corner, I felt Mike gearing up for another serious detour. One of the amazing attributes of an exceptional friendship is the ability to communicate on more than one level. I sensed the change in her attitude, and I admit she caught me off guard with the depth of her sincerity.
“Bernie, I feel like we’re headed in different directions on this cruise. I mean, we were supposed to be in this together, yet we’re doing so much on our own. I feel guilty because it’s not what I thought it’d be. I’m really sorry,” she said with all seriousness.
Don't Rock the Boat Page 15
