Santa Cruise

by Mary Higgins Clark

  “You mean no one’s paying?” Luke asked incredulously as he accepted a menu from the waiter. “That cruise line must be rolling in cash!”

  “I have the brochure with lots of pictures and all the details,” Alvirah said, reaching down and fishing it out of her purse. “The ship looks gorgeous. It’s brand new. Well, almost brand new—it was refurbished from stem to stern. If you can believe it, it even has a helicopter pad and a rock-climbing wall, just like all the new big ships. The best part is that the cruise director is so apologetic about the notification mix-up that he wants us to bring four people as our guests to make up for it, and he offered two luxury rooms with balconies—just like our cabin.”

  She beamed at the four Reillys. “I want you all to sail on the Santa Cruise with us.”

  “Oh, that’s impossible,” Nora answered quickly, shaking her head and looking at Luke to back her up.

  “Aaaah, we’re just planning to relax next week . . .” Luke began clearing his throat as he tried to think of a stronger excuse.

  “How better to relax than on a cruise?” Alvirah insisted. “Think about it. You two are going to the South of France after the first of the year. Regan, I know you and Jack are meeting friends to ski at Lake Tahoe on New Year’s Eve. What do you have planned for those four days after Christmas that beats sailing in the Caribbean?”

  It was a rhetorical question. “Regan,” Alvirah continued, “I just heard from Jack’s own lips that he’s on vacation for two weeks. What are you committed to do the day after Christmas and the three days after that?”

  “Absolutely nothing,” Regan said promptly. “Jack, we’ve never been on a cruise together. I think it would be fun.”

  “The weather prediction for the New York area next week is freezing to frigid or the other way around, whichever is colder,” Willy said encouragingly. He knew that in the couple of hours since that FedEx package arrived Alvirah had set her heart on having the Reillys join them on the cruise. “We’re hiring a private plane to fly us to Miami on the 26th,” he added, hoping that Alvirah wouldn’t admit that this was the first she’d heard of that plan. “Think about it. A beautiful ship. Fine people as our fellow passengers. Swimming in the outdoor pool in December. Sitting on the deck reading a book. I’ll bet lots of the people will be reading your books, Nora. What do you say?”

  “It sounds too good to be true,” Nora said matter-of-factly, but then she paused a moment and added, “I certainly know that we always have a great time with you guys, and I definitely would enjoy spending quality time with my child and brand-new son-in-law.”

  Alvirah smiled triumphantly. She could tell that the Reillys were going to go on the cruise with them. Nora and Regan were getting excited about it already and Luke and Jack would fall in line, however reluctantly. As they toasted to sharing the Santa Cruise, Alvirah was glad she’d never brought up the fact that yesterday, at yet another charity luncheon, she’d had a reading by a psychic who had been hired as a gimmick to raise extra money. As soon as her cards were dealt, the psychic’s eyes had widened to the point that her eyelids had disappeared into her skull. “I see a tub,” she had whispered. “A large tub. You are not safe in it. Listen to me. Your body must not be surrounded by water. Until after the New Year you must only take showers.”

  3

  Sunday, December 25th

  Under cover of darkness late on Christmas night, in the Port of Miami, a rowboat glided silently up to the side of the Royal Mermaid. A rope ladder was dropped from the lowest deck.

  “You go first,” Bull’s-Eye Tony Pinto grunted as he grabbed the ladder and handed it over to his fellow escaping felon.

  “You just want to make sure the rope is secure before you give it a whirl,” Barron Highbridge said icily, as he stood unsteadily, put one foot up, tested the ladder, and began to climb.

  “Hurry up!” a voice urged from above.

  Larry the Creep, at the helm of the rowboat, extended a beefy hand to Bull’s-Eye Tony. “Don’t worry, Boss. We’ll be waiting for you just offshore Fishbowl Island. We’ll sneak you ashore, then you’ll be home free. Now try to relax on this cruise.”

  “Relax? Hiding in a stateroom with that idiot Highbridge for the next three days? I told you I didn’t want to be on the run with anyone else.”

  “We were lucky to find this situation,” Larry protested. “That poor dope Commodore Weed should only know what a louse he has for a nephew! Lucky for us, though. As soon as the cops find out your wife is wearing your ankle bracelet, they’ll be swarming all over the country looking for you.”

  “I’ll say that nephew is a louse—he has some nerve charging me a million bucks for a three-night stay.”

  “He wanted more,” Larry reminded him. “I drove a hard bargain with him.”

  Bull’s-Eye looked up. In the shadowy darkness he watched Highbridge effortlessly maneuver himself up to the deck and grasp the hand that was extended to him. His heart racing, Tony stood, grabbed the rope, and positioned his foot on the first rung. “Merry Christmas,” he muttered bitterly and turned to Larry. “If you want to give me a present, find where the Feds hid that jerk who ratted me out and whack him.”

  Larry nodded.

  “That would be a really nice gift,” Bull’s-Eye emphasized.

  From above, sweating profusely, Eric watched Bull’s-Eye begin to lumber up the ladder. Eric had been warned by Larry the Creep that if anything went wrong and Tony ended up in the clink, he would be swimming with the fishes.

  Then Eric stared in horror as Bull’s-Eye’s gun slipped from his pocket and fell into the water. At least that wasn’t my fault, he thought.

  For two million bucks—one million for each stowaway—Eric had been willing to take this huge risk.

  But now as a cursing, red-faced Bull’s-Eye came closer and closer, grasped the rail, and heaved his thick body over the side of the deck, Eric realized that he might have bitten off more than he could chew. The other guy he knew he could handle. I should have stuck with white-collar criminals, he thought, trying to appear in charge as he whispered in what he hoped was an authoritative tone, “Follow me.” He did not have to warn them to be silent. Most of the crew was already on board in preparation for the maiden voyage, but it was late and the ship was quiet.

  Clad in hooded sweatshirts and dark glasses, the two felons followed Eric up a service companionway to the boat deck at the top of the ship. Eric peered out into the carpeted passageway. The coast was clear. He beckoned them forward. As they were passing the Commodore’s door, something slipped from under Highbridge’s sweatshirt and fell on the floor. Even though the carpet was plush, there was a distinctive thud.

  “Oh goodness, my toiletries kit,” Highbridge whispered, slipping as he bent down to grab the leather case. Quickly trying to steady himself, he accidentally bumped against the Commodore’s door, barely missing the mermaid-shaped doorbell.

  Eric’s heart almost stopped. His uncle was a light sleeper and often spent much of the night reading. He raced down the passageway, the others on his heels, stopped in front of his stateroom, and with trembling hands inserted the key. The green light went on, the electronic lock beeped happily, and he pushed open the door. The two escapees followed him inside the room. Eric shut the door behind them and double-locked it.

  The curtains to the balcony had been drawn for the night by the cabin steward. A mint was on Eric’s pillow. Bull’s-Eye Tony lumbered over and sat on the couch while Highbridge dropped his leather toiletries kit on the bed and sighed.

  Some roommates, Eric thought. Tony, a dangerous crime boss, and Highbridge, born with a silver spoon in his mouth, who cheated other people out of their money just for the thrill of it. Both in their mid-forties. Tony, on the short side with a powerful build, balding, and a face that looked as if it had gone a few rounds in a prize fight, and tall, thin Highbridge with his dark brown hair, chiseled, aristocratic features, and a disdainful expression he had probably been born with.

  A knock on
the door sent shock waves through the room. Eric pointed to the closet. Tony and Highbridge ran to it and disappeared inside.

  “Eric, are you there?” Commodore Weed called from the passageway.

  Eric turned on the bathroom light and pulled his robe off the hook to suggest he’d been about to get undressed. The robe over his arm, he opened the door. Uncle Randolph was a sight to behold in his custom-made, blue-and-white pajamas, complete with a sailboat embroidered on the lapel. “Hi,” Eric greeted his uncle, trying to sound sleepy.

  “Mind if I come in?” the Commodore asked soulfully.

  Eric had no choice but to open the door wider.

  The Commodore stepped inside. “I heard a thump on my door and hurried into the passageway just as your door was closing. I guess you can’t sleep either, huh?”

  In his long history of shady dealings, Eric had learned early on that it was always better to stick as close as possible to the truth. “I went for a walk on the deck, so keyed up about our Santa Cruise. Then I realized how tired I was. I think that’s why I accidentally bumped against your door.” He yawned, then watched in horror as the Commodore picked up Highbridge’s toiletries kit off the bed, and sat on the couch where the indentation from Tony’s generous behind was still fresh.

  “Handsome kit. I don’t think I’ve ever seen you with it before.”

  “I’ve had it a while,” Eric answered lamely and deliberately yawned again.

  “I won’t stay long,” Randolph said in a tone that suggested he was just getting wound up. It reminded Eric of his long-winded high school graduation speaker who spent the first fifteen minutes at the podium mumbling, “Now before I start my remarks, I’d like to mention . . .”

  “It’s okay, sir, stay as long as you like,” Eric said weakly.

  “Insomnia,” Randolph began. “The good thing about it is it gives you time to read. The bad thing is it gives you too much time to think. Tonight I was thinking about Christmases past when you were a little boy.” He laughed. “You were a terror. Your mother almost died when she realized that you’d stolen the change out of all her guests’ coat pockets at her annual Christmas party.” The Commodore laughed again. “But that was a long time ago.” He looked around. “I’m glad these luxury rooms turned out so well. It’s nice to have a couch and a couple of chairs, not to mention a balcony. The closet is big, too, isn’t it? A woman’s dream.” He got to his feet. “Tomorrow’s a big day. We’d both better try and get some rest.”

  “Uncle Randolph, I want to thank you for making me a part of this wonderful new venture of yours.”

  “Blood is thicker than water, my boy,” the Commodore intoned as he patted Eric on the shoulder, then crossed the room. The closet door was at a right angle to the outside door of the cabin. By mistake he put his hand on the closet door and began to turn its handle.

  Eric lunged forward and threw his arms around his uncle’s back. The Commodore let go of the handle, turned around, and wrapped his nephew in a bear hug. “I never thought you were an emotional fellow,” Randolph said, his voice husky. “As a matter of fact, I thought you were something of a cold fish.”

  “I love you, Uncle Randolph.” By now Eric was so nervous that his voice was quivering. His uncle obviously thought that he was about to break down and have a good cry.

  “I love you too, Eric,” the Commodore said softly. “More than you’ll ever know. This will be a good trip for us. For our relationship. Now get some rest.”

  Eric nodded and quickly opened the cabin door and eased his uncle out. He stepped into the passageway and watched until his uncle’s pajamaed figure disappeared into his own suite. Stepping back inside, Eric almost collapsed with relief. He double-locked the door and opened the closet.

  “I need a hanky,” Bull’s-Eye whispered, then mimicked, “ ‘I love you, Uncle Randolph.’ ”

  “I did what I had to,” Eric said impatiently. “There’s a queen-sized bed and a pullout couch. How do you want to arrange this?”

  “I’m taking the bed,” Bull’s-Eye ordered. “You two can share the couch.”

  Barron looked at him, about to protest, but the sight of Bull’s-Eye’s ugly expression immediately changed his mind.

  Eric spent the night twisting and turning on the lounge chair on the balcony.

  4

  Monday, December 26th

  On a freezing cold December 26th, Alvirah, Willy, Regan, Jack, Nora, and Luke met at Teterboro Airport to board the private plane Willy had hired to take them to Miami for their Santa Cruise. On the way down, they chatted about how they had spent Christmas Day. The four Reillys had gone to Jack’s parents’ home in Bedford, where his six siblings and their families had all gathered for the holiday.

  “Here we are two only children with an only child,” Nora marveled. “It was so much fun to celebrate Christmas with a big group. Jack’s family are such nice people. Every single one of them.”

  Jack raised an eyebrow and smiled. “I assure you, they were all on their best behavior. What did you guys do, Alvirah?”

  “We had a wonderful day,” she said heartily. “We went to midnight Mass on Christmas Eve, slept late, then had dinner at a really good restaurant on the Upper West Side with Sister Cordelia. She’s the only one of Willy’s sisters who lives in the area. We took her, five or six other nuns, as well as some of the people Sister Cordelia knows who don’t have much family. There were thirty-eight of us and it was really grand.”

  “Thirty-eight?” Jack exclaimed. “That’s more than my mother had.”

  “Well, they’d be out of luck if I had to cook for them,” Alvirah said. “We had a room to ourselves and ended up singing Christmas carols.”

  “It’s a good thing we had a room to ourselves,” Willy interjected. “Next year, Sister Cordelia wants to bring a karaoke machine.”

  Alvirah leaned toward Regan. “That’s a beautiful necklace,” she said admiringly. “I bet it’s a Christmas present from Jack.”

  “Alvirah, anytime you’d like a job in my office, it’s waiting for you,” Jack said with a smile. “That necklace is actually a miniature Reilly crest.”

  “Complete with diamonds on a gold chain,” Alvirah said. “I love it.”

  “Nothing too good for Reilly Reilly,” Jack said.

  * * *

  When they arrived in Miami, the sun was shining brightly and the air was hot.

  “Alleluia,” Luke said as they stepped off the plane. “This feels wonderful. These last few days I felt as if I would turn into an icicle.”

  The limo Alvirah had ordered was waiting for them when they exited the terminal.

  “We have plenty of time to get to the ship,” Alvirah said. “How about a nice lunch at Joe’s Stone Crab? If we get to the ship by three, it’ll be just the right time to check in.”

  “Alvirah, boarding starts at one,” Willy objected.

  “And it goes until four. Let all the anal types get settled in, then there will be no line by the time we get there.”

  * * *

  Everything is going exactly according to plan, Alvirah thought with satisfaction, as the limo pulled up to the terminal where the Royal Mermaid was filling up with the Do-Gooders of the Year. They got out of the car and, as the driver unloaded their luggage, stared out at the ship. An enormous Christmas wreath with the words SANTA CRUISE in the center was hanging from the bow.

  “I kind of expected this ship to be a little larger,” Willy said. “But I guess I was thinking about those huge ocean liners that carry thousands of people.”

  “It looks perfectly lovely,” Nora said hastily.

  “The brochure said the Royal Mermaid accommodates four hundred passengers,” Alvirah noted. She waved her hand dismissively. “That’s plenty.”

  A porter with a cart came up to greet them. “Go right in the terminal,” he said. “I’ll take care of your bags.”

  All three men reached for their wallets. “I’ve got it,” Luke said firmly.

  They stepped in
side the terminal where two security stations were set up.

  “I just hope they don’t want me to take the pins out of my hair,” Nora murmured. “They did that to me at Kennedy Airport when we were going to London. I looked like Gravel Gerty when I got on the plane.”

  But the whole group passed through with flying colors. They walked down a hallway to the departure area where a line of clerks was waiting to check in the guests. It quickly became clear that most of the other passengers had already boarded. There was no one on line at any of the counters. Three men in blue blazers, white slacks, and gold braided caps had just emerged from the gangplank to the ship. The eldest one spotted them and rushed over.

  “Welcome! Welcome! Which one of you is Alvirah Meehan?” he asked. “We were so afraid you’d changed your mind about joining us. That would have been such a disappointment.”

  “A big disappointment, indeed,” one of the other men echoed.

  “I’m Alvirah and this is my husband Willy and our friends . . .” Quickly she introduced them.

  “And I am Randolph Weed, your host. But my friends call me Commodore, and I love it. And this is my nephew, Eric Manchester, and my cruise director, Dudley Loomis. Let’s get you checked in and on board. The opening cocktail party will be over in twenty minutes. We sail at four.”

  “At four?” Alvirah said. “My information said six. I have it right here—”

  Dudley sprang into action. He wasn’t anxious to see his signature on the letter she was about to pull out. He’d been frazzled when he wrote that letter to her. “Let’s get you checked in,” he urged, leading them over to the counter where all six clerks were waiting. Luke and Nora began to check in with one, and Jack and Regan with another. The Commodore and his nephew were hovering protectively around Alvirah and Willy.