Hula Done It?

by Maddy Hunter

  I stared at Nana, wide-eyed. “Jonathan won the scavenger hunt?”

  “Beat me out by two minutes and thirty-three seconds.”

  “Wow, his luck really is changing. I’ll have to congratulate him.”

  “I’m sure he’d like that, dear. But you won’t find him in his cabin on account a he’s in the infirmary.”

  Uh-oh. “Please tell me he’s only visiting a friend.”

  “Nope. He run outta that room so fast, he didn’t see the ‘wet floor’ cones outside the potties until he was airborne. But they was sayin’ he only broke one leg, so that was real good news.”

  Tap, tap, tap. Our heads pivoted to the door again. Osmond got up to answer it and returned with Duncan.

  “Good morning, all,” he said to the room at large before directing a meaningful look my way. “Would you believe I was stupid enough to think I might actually catch you alone?”

  “Group meeting,” I said, shrugging. “We’re trying to decide what we should do with Tilly’s treasure.”

  He sauntered toward the table, peering at the oblong box in the middle. “So this is the infamous Ring treasure?”

  “Some treasure,” fussed Bernice. “If we don’t know what’s inside, it’s nothing but a piece of junk.”

  “Did you have a chance to talk to Percy and Basil?” I asked Duncan.

  “This morning. It took a while, but they finally coughed up the information. They put marbles into the ship’s vault, pure glass ones that were manufactured years ago. I guess collectors consider them on a par with Superman comic books and old Coke bottles.”

  I regarded him skeptically. “Marbles? That’s what they dug up at the Secret Falls and were being so secretive about? Marbles?”

  “Basil’s family owns the Broomhead Gallery and Museum in Pudsey, England, so he’s always looking for articles to replace the ones he destroyed when he accidentally burned the place down when he was a little nipper. I guess it’s been a terrible burden for him to bear all these years. His relatives have never let him live it down.”

  Marbles? I shook my head. “So did you convince them to explain about the list of names on the back of Percy’s business card?”

  “Your hit parade?” He laughed. “The town of Harrogate in Yorkshire sponsors a parade every year to commemorate Captain James Cook’s birthday, and each year the board of tourism tries to find people who have some relationship to Cook to ride in the main float. Next year’s selections were going to be two James Cook scholars: Dorian Smoker and Bailey Howard — the first two choices of the Harrogate Institute of Tourism. Otherwise known as H. I. T.”

  I made a small O of my mouth as warmth crawled up my throat. “It was a real parade? Not…a hit list?”

  “An honest mistake,” Duncan soothed. “And very creative, I might add.”

  “But I don’t get it. If Percy was so anti-Cook, why was he carrying around the names of people who were candidates for a pro-Cook celebration?”

  “He and Basil intended to convince Smoker and Bailey not to participate in the parade. Their real beef is with the tourism board, and their long-term goal is to bring an end to the festivities entirely.”

  Knock. Knock, knock.

  Groans. Hissing. Eye rolling.

  “Why don’t you just leave the door open and stick an Open House sign on it?” Bernice suggested. “Save us from having to get up so much.”

  “I’ll get it,” said Duncan, returning in a half minute with Etienne at his side. EH! Just what I needed. All the competition in the same room again. I gave Etienne a little finger wave and wondered how many Tums I’d have to swallow to calm my stomach. He gave me a long, lingering look that would have caused internal combustion if I’d been sitting closer.

  “I’m glad you’re all here,” he said, in his beautiful French/German/Italian accent. “I believe I have some information that might be of interest to you. Do you mind, Emily?”

  “Please.” I allowed him the floor with a sweeping gesture.

  “As a professional courtesy, the Maui police shared some of their findings with me this morning, so I have answers to a few of the questions that were still bothering Emily last night after the professor and Miss Howard had been taken into custody.”

  “What kind of questions?” asked Bernice.

  “Questions about Nils Nilsson,” he responded. “He was not the Nils Nilsson who was arrested on charges of assault with a baseball bat. That was another Nils Nilsson, one of sixteen former presidents of the World Navigators Club with the same name. Nilsson is apparently as common a name in Norway as Bucherer is in Switzerland, or Smith is in the United States.”

  So how was I supposed to know that? Heat crept from my throat to my cheeks. “Did Nils or Gjurd tell the police what they found at the Secret Falls?”

  “Coins,” said Etienne. “Or what they thought were coins. Upon closer examination, they discovered they were actually old tokens from the New York subway system. Still, if presented to the right collector, they could be worth something.”

  “I wanna know how Jennifer French got hold a our treasure map without buyin’ it from Bernice like everyone else done,” said Nana.

  Etienne smiled. “When she was questioned about her attack on Miss Howard, she mentioned how a significant archaeological find might have worked in her favor at the university. As to how she came by the map, she said someone had forgotten to remove it from the photocopier in the business center, so she simply took it.”

  Oh, this was cute. Everyone had forgotten to remove the map from the photocopier, even Bernice. That had to make Tilly feel better about her own mental health. But I was still curious about one teensy point.

  “Can you explain something to me?” I asked Etienne. “Professor Smoker obviously jumped ship in Kauai. But what did he do until he left? Stay holed up in Bailey’s cabin? He couldn’t have stayed there the entire time because he would have been found out by the cabin steward, wouldn’t he?”

  Etienne nodded. “Bailey had a duplicate key made for her cabin so they could both come and go as they pleased, then she shaved his head and rented a disguise for him in the costume shop. A fat suit. Facial hair. Bought him a Hawaiian shirt. I believe you might have run into him the night of the storm in the Anchor Bar.”

  Oh, my God! The guy in the bar had been Professor Smoker?

  “I believe the professor was feeling rather full of himself by then, skulking about the ship incognito. His original plan had been to lie low in Kauai until Bailey sent him his falsified travel documents, but when she contacted him about your grandmother’s friends finding the treasure, he decided he needed to help her steal the thing, so he used Ansgar’s ship ID card to reboard. He probably would have gotten away with murder if not for Shelly Valentine’s and Emily’s keen eyes.” Etienne glanced at the box in the middle of the table for the first time. “Is this the piece that has been causing all the trouble?”

  “You bet,” said Nana.

  “It’s a piece of junk,” snapped Bernice.

  “It’s an item of inestimable worth,” pledged Tilly as she opened her journal to the proper page. “Griffin Ring himself says it’s priceless. It’s right here in black and white.”

  “You haven’t opened it yet?” Etienne asked.

  “We don’t know how,” said Nana. “It’s one a them puzzle boxes.”

  “Do you mind if I try?”

  Tilly handed him the box. “Be my guest.”

  He held it above his head, checking all the angles, then lowered it to his waist and with pressure from his thumbs and forefingers, eased the lid effortlessly off the box.

  Oohs. Ahhs. Gasps.

  “How’d you do that?” asked Nana.

  “My grandmother has one much like it. They’re very European.”

  When he set the box back down in the middle of the table, we peered into the interior, agog.

  “What is it?” asked Dick Teig. “A pocket watch?”

  “It’s too big for a pocket watch,” said Dick
Stolee. “The thing’s big as a saucer. My money’s on an antique stopwatch.”

  “You’re both very close,” said Tilly as she lifted it into the palm of her hand. “Do you know what this is?”

  “Piece of junk,” said Bernice.

  “It’s a chronometer,” Tilly marveled. “A device to measure the longitude of a ship. This must be one of the original chronometers designed by John Harrison. Oh, my goodness. This is incredible! Captain Cook must have enlisted Griffin Ring to bury it so that if the other devices were stolen, they’d still have one to use on the return voyage to England. The Sandwich Islanders were notorious for stealing everything they could get their hands on, so this chronometer must have been their backup. After Cook was killed, the crew obviously never bothered to retrieve it. Do you know what this means?”

  “I’m hoping it means we’re all filthy rich,” said Dick Teig.

  “It means we can make a noteworthy contribution to the National Maritime Museum in Greenwich, England! We’ll be greeted like conquering heroes!”

  Dick Teig rolled his eyes. “I’d rather be filthy rich.”

  “I can’t thank you enough, Inspector Miceli,” Tilly enthused as she boosted herself to her feet. “Come along, people. We’re going to have this secured in the vault straightaway.”

  Grumbling. Pouting. Groaning. But in the time it took to blink, they were out of their seats and through the door, leaving me alone for the first time with the two men in my life.

  I smiled at Etienne. I smiled at Duncan. I tried to think of something profound to say. “Would you like to sit down?”

  They sat on either side of me, bookending me like a couple of pumped up Chippendales. “Do you have an answer for me this morning?” asked Etienne, cradling my right hand.

  “I was about to ask the same thing,” said Duncan, cradling my left.

  “I asked her first,” announced Etienne.

  “So what?” countered Duncan.

  Etienne narrowed his eyes at Duncan. “Who the hell are you, anyway?”

  Duncan clenched his fist. “You want to take it outside, bud? I’ll be glad to show you.”

  Oh, this was nice. I looked from one to the other, thinking that you really did need to watch what you prayed for, because sometimes you actually got it. In spades. “Um —” I bobbed my head toward Etienne. “I’m a bit curious. When did you board ship?”

  “In Kauai.”

  “So why did you wait until last night to pop up?”

  His face darkened with embarrassment. “The storm. I — uh — I was a bit seasick.”

  “You, too?” asked Duncan, softening. “Was that the absolute worst feeling you’ve ever experienced, or what?”

  “Absolutely the worst. I didn’t think I’d make it through the night. I was praying I wouldn’t make it through the night. Sorry, darling,” he apologized.

  “They say Admiral Nelson was seasick his entire career,” Duncan went on. “I don’t know how he stood it. You ever been to Portsmouth, Miceli? If you tour the HMS Victory, you can stand on the very spot where Nelson bought the farm. It’s pretty awe-inspiring. I know the guy who leads those Portsmouth tours. If you’re interested, I could put you in touch with him.”

  “Thanks, I appreciate the offer. By the way, I don’t believe we’ve been formally introduced.” He reached his hand across my chest toward Duncan. “Etienne Miceli.”

  Duncan clasped his hand and grinned. “Duncan Lazarus. Glad to meet you.”

  That’s what I loved about guys. They were so basic, it didn’t take much for them to become fast friends. But if I was to give either one of them an answer, I needed to see their true colors at work, and there was only one way I knew to do that.

  “I have a great idea, guys. I know it’s a little early in the morning, but why don’t we continue this discussion at the ice-cream bar on deck eleven? They always have the makings for great sundaes. Hot fudge. Pecans. Whipped cream. And of course, my personal favorite.” I looked from one to the other and smiled brightly. “Maraschino cherries.”

  eBook Info

  Title:Hula Done It?

  Creator:Maddy Hunter

  Date:2005

  Type:novel

  Format:text/html

  Identifier:ISBN 1-4165-2447-9

  Source:PDF

  Language:en

  Relation:None

  Coverage:None

  Rights:Copyright © 2005 by Mary Mayer Holmes