Sweet little Clarice suggested Mike and I were intentional diversions set in place by the cruise director to dazzle and confuse the rest of the passengers, and probably had some sinister involvement in the mysterious crime. We grinned at that idea, mostly because every single passenger nodded in agreement that the two of us had most certainly attracted more than a reasonable share of attention. Our excitement escalated when we realized nobody had yet arrived at the correct solution. Boy, did Mike and I have bigger fish to fry.
When Hernando announced Loretta’s name, Mike straightened in her chair and I sucked in a ragged breath. We looked at each other. Very aware that Loretta had sat with her arms crossed as the rest of us submitted our ideas, we knew something was up.
Hernando scanned the paper he’d identified as Loretta’s, raised his face and smiled at the crowd, and then extended his arm, pointing his finger at her.
“Ladies and Gentlemen, we have a winner,” Hernando announced, as Loretta feigned surprise, disbelief, excitement.
“Say, just a minute there!” Mike interjected, but the crowd had already begun to applaud, and her protest went unheard…at least for the moment.
“Read it. Read it. What did she say?” The cries came from the crowd.
Hernando cleared his throat, tugged at his black bow tie, then spoke. “Benjamin Browning simply donned a pair of sunglasses and a floppy straw hat and left the ship.” Hernando then went on to remind us about the Neptune King, the ship that had passed us as we were approaching Miami, and that there’d been a number of boats coming and going throughout our voyage. He stated that Loretta had correctly surmised that our dear Benjamin had jumped overboard and had swum to the safety of a nearby boat.
Mike and I stiffened. She looked at me with mouth open and I rolled my eyes. “That has to be the stupidest idea ever,” I hissed. “I mean, everybody—even landlubbers like myself—knows that scenario would spell suicide. No one could jump from a ship this size and swim to another boat or ship. That smacks of something Debbi Dunn would’ve written on a test back St. Bart’s.”
“You got that one right,” Mike muttered, arms crossed over a heaving bosom. “I’m about ready to blow a gasket.”
“A ludicrous stretch of the imagination. Ridiculous. Unfortunately, nobody seems concerned about the plausibility of that proposed solution to our mystery. Look at them all. Bobbing their heads up and down, as though content with the ridiculous answer Loretta offered. Sheesh. What’s the matter with them? Doesn’t anyone have an IQ above fifty?”
Mike wore a pained expression on her face. I’d seen that look before, when we’d attended ridiculous faculty meetings, or had been bored to tears by the prattling of self-righteous school superintendents, lecturing us on how to teach.
Mike would erupt any minute. I didn’t have long to wait.
“Now hold on, Hernando,” Mike shot out of her chair. “You didn’t read the theory Bernie and I submitted. We’ve got the only plausible answer.”
The group swung their attention to us then back to Hernando. Hernando’s face turned puce, whether from embarrassment or anger or both. No doubt wanting to end this entire meeting.
“You two were disqualified. I told you so, and yet, here you are attempting to ruin this friendly little game.” Hernando donned a mask of disapproval.
“Well, who cares?” someone in the audience said.
“Yes,” shouted another, “let them have their say.”
“They, uh, were d-disqualified,” Hernando stammered.
“Oh, nonsense. Just read their theory out loud and be done with it,” Clarice rang out. “That way, everyone will have had a fair chance. If Miss Mike and Miss Bernie are correct, they deserve to be acknowledged, too. I don’t think you had sufficient provocation to dismiss them. Therefore, I insist.”
Mike and I smiled. Clarice’s confidence level had soared to an all-time high. Due to the attentions of Dr. Connolly, I presumed.
“Yeah,” the crowd chimed in. “Let them. They paid their money. You can’t just throw them out. Read what they had to say.”
Hernando mopped his forehead. He didn’t know what we’d written, but it was obvious to all present that he’d no intention of sharing our ideas with this crowd.
“We have our winner,” Hernando offered in a weak voice. “This lovely lady is the undisputed winner. I stake my stellar reputation upon her validity as a contestant. She has met all the criteria. She is a passenger aboard this ship, and is a participant on the Mystery Cruise. I see no reason to cast any aspersions on her right to claim the prize…” Hernando’s voice trailed off, and he shot a desperate look at Loretta.
Loretta maintained an ominous silence, hands on hips, elbows akimbo, seething with righteous indignation. The captain, visibly alarmed by the strange last minute turn of events, looked bewildered and annoyed. He stared long and hard at Hernando who made every effort to look anywhere but at his boss.
“Just give me my prize and let’s be done with this nonsense.” Loretta had found her voice. She lumbered toward Hernando.
“Hold the phone, kiddo.” I stood to my full six-foot height and declared, “You didn’t even put a paper in the box so something’s stinky in Denmark.” I tossed my hair. “So, stifle it, honey. If Hernando won’t tell everyone what’s really going on aboard this ship, then we will.”
Sensing we had the undivided attention of everybody, Mike seized the opportunity to entertain, impress and enthrall. In the spotlight, so to speak, and loving every minute of it.
“First off, it’s Hermione Haalstrom who should be standing here,” Mike declared in a clarion tone. “She’s the one we should focus on.” A startled murmur ran through the crowd. Hernando looked as if he’d pass out at any moment. Mike paused for dramatic effect, then walked up to the piano bar, which Hernando vacated upon her approach. She faced the audience. “Bernie and I demand that Hermione be brought here.”
“I object,” Henando squeaked.
“The nerve,” Loretta huffed.
“Yes,” Clarice sang out, “go get her. Let’s let Miss Bernie and Miss Mike show us what they’ve come up with. I, for one, am most interested.”
With a resigned shrug and drawn-out sigh, Hernando said, “Very well.” He looked at Loretta with hound dog eyes.
Loretta huffed and puffed but acquiesced. “Oh, all right. I will go get Hermione Haalstrom. This better be good.” She glared at Mike and me, turned on her heel and left the room.
No one said anything for a moment and then all hell broke loose. The noise was deafening. Mike returned to her seat, cracked her neck, tugged at her shirt then squinted up at me. “Lord, that near to gave me a heart attack. Could you see my heart thudding against my blouse?”
“You were fine,” I muttered. I glanced over my shoulder at Hernando. “Well, we certainly stirred up a hornets’ nest. Hope we haven’t made complete asses of ourselves.”
“You know we’re right,” Mike made a face.
“Let’s hope so.”
The cacophony of voices filled the room for several minutes. When they stopped, our heads jerked up. Hermione Haalstrom had entered the room. The entire audience sucked in deep breaths and waited. Mike popped her neck one more time then stood. She tugged again at her shirt. “Okay, everybody. Here’s our theory.” She motioned for me to join her. I left my seat and together we walked up to the piano bar to stand beside Hermione Haalstrom and Hernando.
“Bernie?” Mike nodded for me to take it from here.
“All right, ladies and gentlemen, here’s Mike’s and my theory.” I cleared my throat. “I’d like you to meet Benjamin Browning.” With a flourish of my hand, I pointed to the entertainer. A ripple went through the crowd.
“You got it,” Mike added with a big grin. “Benjamin Browning is, indeed, our female impersonator. He never left the ship. He’s been here, singing and dancing, every night. In plain sight.”
Mike and I waited for Hermione to come clean. She had the grace to blush then nod. “I cann
ot tell a lie,” she trilled. Lifting a well-manicured hand, Hermione grabbed a fistful of her silver blonde curls and pulled. She removed her wig, leaving a head of closely cropped hair. Then, before either Mike or I could blink, she produced a large handkerchief and wiped her face several times. In less than fifteen heartbeats, Hermione’s face had disappeared.
In its place? The handsome, smiling countenance of one Benjamin Browning.
The audience burst into applause. Mike and I, standing side by side, prepared to bask in the glow of praise and appreciation from our peers. However, our moment of glory was short lived. A bark of laughter interrupted our adulation.
Hernando had morphed right before our eyes. No longer the suave though irritated director of the Mystery Cruise, who’d squirmed and stammered, doing his best to assuage a disgruntled clientele, the dapper fellow had thrown back his head and was letting loose a bellowing laugh. Mike and I stared at him as though he’d gone mad. By the stunned looks on the faces around us, we weren’t alone.
I found my voice first. “Okay…okay. Just what is all this? We were right, weren’t we? That mystery is solved, isn’t it?”
Henando wiped tears from his eyes. “Not by a mile, my friends…not by a mile.”
Mike balled her fists. “Well, for crying out loud. I demand an explanation.”
“Certainly,” Hernando smiled. Thrusting his chin at Hermione, A.K.A., Ben Browning, he said, “I turn the floor over to you.”
Mike and I looked at our crowning achievement and waited.
“I’d be glad to take the floor.” Ben’s grin spread from ear to ear. “Mrs. North…Mrs. Rosales…my hat is off to you. You did figure out part of the puzzle.”
“Only part?” I asked and glanced again at Mike. Her eyes were round with stupefaction. Licking my lips, I ventured further. “It’s obvious Mike and I have missed something. Please cut to the chase and let us in on your little joke.”
Hermione cum Benjamin chuckled. “Of course.” He turned his back to us, pulled something from under his voluminous gown, placed a mass of too-red curls on his head then turned around again.
“Oh. My. God,” Mike breathed.
“I…can’t…believe…it,” I gasped.
Loretta. Loretta grinned back at us in all her extravagant, over-stated, in-your-face glory—blatant, even minus the layers of makeup.
“You’re telling me you’re not only Hermione Haalstrom but Loretta?” I wheezed.
‘Loretta’ nodded. “Yep.” She/He winked. “And for the record, I’m sorry I gave you so much grief in my persona as Loretta. But, gee, it was fun.”
“Well, if that doesn’t rock the boat, I don’t know what does,” Mike murmured.
“I guess that blows our smuggling theory,” I muttered.
FIFTY-EIGHT
As we stood on the top deck in the early morning sunshine, our luxurious ship, the Caribbean Mermaid deftly maneuvered into port. The whistle blew loudly again and again, and we waved at anyone and everyone who waved back from the dock. We exhaled in unison and turned to look at each other.
“Can you believe this cruise is over?” I asked Mike. “Who could’ve anticipated everything that happened during this past week? If we’d only known…”
“If we’d only known,” Mike continued my sentence, “it wouldn’t have been nearly so much fun. Okay, so we didn’t technically win the game, but we did solve a major chunk of it, which was kind of related to the mystery, which was sort of weird and definitely not expected. Just goes to show that all those years of teaching junior high kids didn’t fry our brain cells after all. No sir, we’re still pretty sharp. We’re still perceptive. We’re…we’re…” Mike’s voice trailed off. “We’re home.” She looked up at me. “It’s over, Bernie.”
“Yes, it is, sad to say. Oh, look.” I pointed to the couple heading our way but not seeing us.
Clarice and Kingston floated down the off-ramp arm in arm, as close as two peas in a pod. They’d survived the cruise and were leaving the ship together. I felt happy and excited for them, and by her rapturous smile, so did Mike. As though we’d somehow helped the situation along. For this week, they’d been sort of like our extended family. But along with that pleasant thought, came another, that Charmaine and Veronica were part of the family tree, too. Kind of the black sheep of our family. With an inward chuckle, I pictured two fluffy sheep wearing thong underwear.
“Gosh, I hate to say good-bye,” Mike sighed for the umpteenth time.
“Yes, but just think of all the great adventures awaiting you once you get back home to Joe.” My attempt to lighten the moment caused a kaleidoscope of anxious looks to appear on her scrunched up face. No doubt remembering all those phone calls from dear, clueless Joe during the past week.
“Thanks a bunch,” Mike responded. “Remind me never to tell you again about Joe or his little idiosyncrasies. It must be terrific way up there on your pedestal, looking forward to going home to perfection, nobody missing a beat, no upheaval at home, no stained carpet, no taken-apart car, lost wallet and/or keys…” Mike’s voice petered out.
She was right and I knew it. Jack got along just fine with or without me. He listened politely to my stories and laughed in the appropriate pauses and smiled and encouraged me to tell him every minute detail, but would he hear? The house would be perfect—the laundry neatly folded and the groceries stashed away in the right place, neat as a pin. Still, it must be great to be needed as much as Joe needed Mike. Well, at least some of the time. My Jack was as different from Joe as night from day. More reserved and quiet, less spontaneous and effusive. Loyal and dependable and solid and strong. Competent and independent. And—I blinked in rapid succession—to my absolute and utter amazement—here.
Jack stood on the dock awaiting the arrival of the ship. No event or drama or catastrophe or strange turn of events could surprise me more than the image of Jack North waiting there…for me. I stared dumbfounded at Mike, and she elbowed me in the ribs, flashing that annoying but endearingly smug little grin.
“You do realize,” she simpered, “that you still have time to book a cruise on the next ship out—just the two of you. Do it, Bernie. For once, step outside the parameters of right and proper and organized and staid and stoic, and just do it.”
“Oh, for crying out loud,” I muttered, feeling my face flush.
Mike and I lined up for the bunny hop-skip-and-jump exit from the Caribbean Mermaid, when Mike’s little phone chirped and gurgled. She flipped open her phone and wandered away from my side to speak in private. I saw her smile and nod, and just before she snapped that little intruder closed, she said, “I love you, too, Joe.”
Sweet, but I couldn’t take my eyes off Jack, who stood there so calm and collected, as if it was the most normal occurrence in the world to come all the way from St. Louis to Miami just to meet the ship. As we trundled down the final ramp, he held up a little white sign. It only had three words on it, “Let’s Go Home.” I realized then and there that I’d treasure this cruise, and the breath-taking climax, for the rest of my life.
I grinned at Mike. “Thanks for everything. I had a wonderful time.”
Mike threw her arms around my middle and squeezed. “Oh, I did, too. Let’s do it again next year. Let’s go on another mystery cruise. Or, better yet, let’s you and me go to Vegas. Want to? If there’s a mystery in Vegas, I know we’ll solve it in three shakes of a lamb’s tail.”
“Don’t rock the boat,” I exhaled.
ABOUT AUTHORS CATHIE WAYLAND AND THERESA JENNER GARRIDO
Cathie Wayland is a lifelong Midwesterner, a wife, a mother, a grandmother, and a friend. After achieving a Bachelor’s Degree in Education and a Master’s Degree in Administration she has spent her entire adult life working with children in schools, first as a junior high level teacher, and then as an elementary school principal. Early on in her life, she developed a love for reading and writing, and enjoys interlacing her books, stories and articles with real-life incidents, accidents, anecdote
s and memorable characters that have shaped her world. Her friend Theresa ranks among the very best of memorable characters! She has been blessed with a long and happy marriage, and an incredible family. Cathie would claim that defining moments of who you are and who you hope to become when you least expect them.
A graduate of the University of Washington, Theresa Jenner Garrido taught middle school language arts and drama for over twenty-five years before retiring to devote more time and energy to her passion of writing. She loves walking on deserted beaches, country roads, and eating chocolate. She thinks living in Alaska would be great but is content to stay in her small town in South Carolina.
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