Every Body on Deck

by G. A. McKevett

  Chapter 20

  Savannah and the rest of the Moonlight gang managed to find a game room aboard the ship that was unoccupied. Considering the sensitivity of the topics they would be discussing, they didn’t want to have their tête-à-tête in the crowded casino, at poolside, or in the atrium lobby.

  Everyone had assembled for the meeting except Tammy and Waycross, who were “out in the field.” Whether that meant they were walking about town or strolling hand-in-hand around the ship, Savannah didn’t know or care, as long as they were getting along. If things were going well in Tammy & Waycross World, Savannah figured she could handle whatever was going on in hers.

  She sat down at a table, shoved a chess set aside, and opened her notebook in front of her. The thing was getting thicker and thicker by the moment. Normally that would have pleased her. But now she felt like she had a thousand pieces of a puzzle but no clue how to put any of them together.

  She and Dirk quickly informed the others of their most recent activities—finding the gas can, interviewing Olive, and discovering the syringe in her pocketbook.

  “It’s quite impressed I am with the two of you,” John told them. “That’s a fine afternoon’s work.”

  “Maybe,” Savannah replied. “But we’re not an inch closer to finding our killer.”

  “Do we have any idea who Olive’s mysterious, ‘creepy’ caller was?” Ryan asked.

  “Not a clue.”

  “Were you able to get his phone number from her cell phone?” Richard wanted to know.

  “Yes,” Dirk told him. “But when Sergeant Bodin ran the number, it came back as one of those anonymous pay-as-you-go, throwaway phones. It could be anybody.”

  “I’ve heard tell of those kinda phones,” Gran said. “Bad guys use ’em when they’re up to no good, ’cause they can’t be traced.”

  Dora piped up. “I used to have a second cousin who used those throwaway phones all the time. Called them ‘burner’ phones. Every time he turned around he was changing his number. He made a mess of my address book with all of that erasing and rewriting. I got to the point where I didn’t bother to write down the numbers at all. I just waited for him to call me. Come to think of it, he was always moving a lot, too. Changed his address about every couple of months, and that made a mess of my address book, too. He got arrested for drug dealing last July.” She turned to her husband. “Or was it August? I think it might’ve been August. Isn’t that when we had to replace the refrigerator and it cost us an arm and a leg? You’d think I’d remember it better, considering how expensive that one appliance—”

  “Has anyone else come up with anything?” Savannah interjected when Dora paused to take a breath.

  Granny shook her head. “Nope. Sorry, sugar. I’m afraid I peaked early in the day with that service station and the gal with her gas can business.”

  “That’s okay, Gran,” Savannah told her. “That was a really important clue. You’ll have bragging rights about that for years to come.” She looked around the table. “Anybody else? Please?”

  She could hear the pathetic tone in her own voice. She sounded as fragile and moody as a high school girl without a date for the prom.

  It occurred to her that maybe she was in the wrong business. Maybe when she got back to San Carmelita, she should check the want ads to see if anybody was hiring workers to pet cats or eat chocolate for minimum wage.

  “Actually, Dora and I uncovered something,” Richard said. “It may be nothing, but—”

  “Let’s have it,” Savannah told him. “We’ll happily add it to all the ‘nothing’ we already have. Can’t hurt.”

  “Okay then, here goes. . . .” Richard ran his fingers through his hair, then carefully rearranged it, making the most of every strand. “As you know, I’ve had my eye on Frank Bellissimo since we first spotted him in the dining room. If there’s a man aboard this ship who’s capable of cold-blooded murder, it’s that guy.”

  “He’s an evil one, for certain,” John agreed.

  Nodding, Ryan added, “You’ll get no argument there.”

  “Today, just for fun,” Richard continued, “we went up and down the taxi queue out by the pier, showing cabbies his picture and asking if they’d seen him today. We found one who drove him around for several hours this morning. Bright and early. Before we spotted him in the afternoon, shopping for rings.”

  “Wow, Dad. Good work,” Dirk said. “Where did the driver take him?”

  “Apparently, everywhere. Said he was looking for somebody and wanted to drive around until he found the person.”

  “Did he say who this ‘somebody’ was?”

  “No. But the driver said that he would perk up every time he saw a woman with long blond hair walking down the street.”

  Savannah felt a surge of optimism. “Really? Long blond hair like Olive Kelly’s?”

  “Maybe,” Richard continued. “And according to the cabbie, every time the woman turned out to be the wrong one, old Frankie boy would throw a tantrum. He’d curse and punch the back of the driver’s seat.”

  “How lovely for the cabbie,” Savannah observed.

  “I don’t think I’ve ever heard Frank Bellissimo’s voice,” said Ryan. “Have you, Richard?”

  “Yes. I heard him testify in court. For the better part of the day, in fact.”

  “Does he sound ‘creepy’?” Savannah wanted to know.

  Richard nodded thoughtfully. “As a matter of fact, he does. He has a deep voice and a Jersey accent. He’s straight out of Central Casting for the part of Gangster Thug.”

  Dora jumped in. “If he’s a criminal, then he probably knows all about those burner phones like my cousin’s. You know, my cousin spent some time in New Jersey. They might know each other. Now wouldn’t that just be the strangest coincidence?”

  “It would, honey,” Richard said. He reached over and squeezed her hand. “I think it’s pretty safe to say they don’t know each other. But all the same, I’m wondering if he called Olive Kelly, gave her those instructions, and then tried to find her. Maybe to check and see if she was following his orders.”

  “Come to think of it,” Ryan said to John, “this might go along with what you and I were discussing earlier. The thing about the threatening letters.”

  “What about them?” Savannah asked.

  “John and I were reading over the copies that Tammy made for us of those letters. Did you notice that Natasha Van Cleef is never addressed directly? She assumed they were meant for her, but she wasn’t specifically mentioned.”

  “What did y’all make of that?” Granny asked.

  “We wondered,” John said, “if perhaps the letters were meant for Colin Van Cleef and not his wife. If Van Cleef’s an out-of-control gambler, and we have a mob enforcer aboard who’s known for collecting debts the hard way, maybe those threats were sent to him and not her.”

  Savannah glanced down at her notebook, then began to thumb through the pages. She studied her own copies of the threats.

  Be warned. Your time is short. Soon you will die a terrible death.

  Count the hours. Hours. Minutes. Count them and enjoy them. That’s all you have left.

  I have her. She’s alive. For now. Meet me and I’ll let her live. Don’t, she dies.

  John and Ryan were correct. There was nothing in the words to suggest that they had been written to a woman and not a man.

  Savannah had assumed that the third letter was written to Natasha and referred to the capture and holding of her personal assistant, Olive Kelly. She assumed it was a ruse to lure the Van Cleefs off the ship, where they could be murdered more easily. But since Olive was known by both Natasha and Colin, the letter could have been meant for him as well as his wife.

  Savannah thought it over. “It makes about as much sense as anything else we’ve come up with so far.”

  Dirk nodded. “That’s true. Maybe we need to have a little chat with Frank Bellissimo, see whom he was looking for out there on the streets today and why.”<
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  No one at the table looked excited.

  No one at the table held up their hand to offer assistance.

  “Don’t everybody volunteer at once,” Dirk grumbled.

  “That Bellissimo fella is a mountain of flesh, and most of it is pure muscle,” John observed. “We’ve had problems in the past with those extra-large lads. I recall sitting on an ice pack for a week or more after going fisticuffs with one of their number.”

  “Maybe we could all surround him,” Dirk said, “and then, if he acts up, we’ll tackle him and take him to the ground.”

  “I’m pretty sure that was our original plan when we went after the bloke who brought me to such sorrow before,” John replied dryly.

  Ryan nodded. “I know John. He’s a guy who prefers to learn from his mistakes of the past.”

  Dora had an idea. “Richard, you and Dirk could slap cuffs on him first. Surely that’d slow him down a bit.”

  Richard gave his wife an affectionate grin. “Easier said than done, honey. One of the worst things you can do is get a single cuff on one of those guys; then he starts swinging around and clocks you with your own cuffs. Now that’s a bad scene.”

  The present and former law enforcement personnel sitting at the table all nodded vigorously in agreement, having seen it happen at least once in the course of their careers.

  “I have an idea,” said a soft, sweet voice.

  They all turned to Granny.

  “What’s that, Gran?” Savannah asked.

  “What if we just try to talk to this fellow, all nice and calm like? You know, the way we’d talk to anybody else on the street or in our homes. Butter won’t melt in our mouths. We’ll be just as nice as can be. But if he gets his dander up and turns all ugly and nasty on us, we’ll just walk away and leave him be.”

  They all sat in stunned silence for a while, absorbing her words.

  Finally, it was John who said, “Now, there’s a radical idea. Unique in the annals of law enforcement.”

  Dirk gave Granny a playful grin. “We can’t go starting any new trends, Gran. If we were nice to bad guys, they might get used to it, and then where’d we be?”

  “It’s worth a try,” Savannah added, “since I’d bet that none of us thought to pack a Taser among our toiletries.”

  “But who’s gonna do it?” Dirk asked. “We all know it can’t be me. I’m not exactly known for my people skills.”

  “I don’t think it should be John or me,” Ryan said. “Those mob-affiliated guys can smell a fed, even ex-feds like us, a mile off.”

  As excuses went, those sounded a little thin to Savannah, but she decided not to call them on it. She also recalled how poor John had looked, sitting on that ice pack, nursing a major hernia. For a while there, the Gibson family jewels had been in serious jeopardy.

  She couldn’t judge him for being reluctant to step into a similar situation.

  “I took a class on hostage negotiation, years ago,” Richard offered.

  Everyone looked excited until he added, “But I’m pretty sure I got a D. Maybe even a D minus. I recall the instructor mentioning that I ran out of patience far too quickly to deal with delicate situations.”

  “Apparently, not knowing how to talk to folks and play well with others runs in the family,” Dirk mumbled, with a quick glance at Savannah.

  “Lord, help us,” she said, casting her eyes heavenward. “We have Dirk, who has the people skills of a badger, a guy who nearly flunked Negotiation Class, and a couple of feds whom a mobster could smell a mile off. I guess I could do it, but guys like that frequently have less than healthy attitudes toward women. I’m not sure how far I’d get.”

  “I’ll do it,” Granny said, raising her hand. “It was my idea, and I wanna try it. I’m officially volunteering.”

  “No, no, no,” were the cries that rounded the table.

  “We can’t let you do something like that, Granny,” Savannah told her.

  Gran bristled. “Why not? I’ll do it right out in the open where there’s lots of people around. Do you really think that big galoot is so stupid he’d beat up an old lady right there in front of God and everybody?”

  “Um . . .” Savannah thought it over. “Probably not.”

  “If he did, y’all could just jump in and do what you said you’d do. Tackle him, throw him to the ground, cuff him, and if necessary, beat the puddin’ outta him. Whatever it took, right?”

  After a long silence, eventually, reluctant nods of semi-approval began to go around the table.

  “Then it’s settled,” Gran said, rising from her chair. “Let’s go get ’im.”

  When they had all stood, she added, “Just one thing. Before we go out that door, I think we should join hands and say a little prayer.”

  The Moonlight Magnolia members traded doubtful glances, then reluctantly joined hands, making sure it was male/female all the way around, except for Ryan and John.

  Gran bowed her head and said, “Dear Lord, we’re embarking on a harrowing mission right now. We’re putting our lives on the line for Truth and Justice and the American Way. We ask that your hand be upon us. We pray that you keep us safe from harm. If that oversized peckerwood should start to act up, would you please help us kick his rear end into next Thursday? Amen.”

  More than one hearty “Amen!” echoed around the circle.

  Savannah laughed as they headed for the door, proceeding under the protective hand of the Almighty.

  Yes, they would be fine. Her granny had always been the Queen of Prayers Most Practical.

  Chapter 21

  The Moonlight Magnolia crew found Frank Bellissimo in the atrium lobby. He was sitting alone on a love seat near the grand piano, looking most forlorn and watching his fellow passengers pass back and forth through the security check.

  Savannah couldn’t recall ever seeing a more miserable fellow. The anger he had exhibited the night before as he had stomped through the dining room appeared to have dissipated. Now he seemed deflated, somehow smaller, and far less scary than he had before.

  That fact caused Savannah to feel a little less anxious about walking her vulnerable grandmother virtually into the lion’s maw.

  From their hiding place, behind some potted palms, she and Gran watched Frank watch the other passengers. “I think he’s doing the same thing that Tammy and Waycross were earlier,” Granny said. “He’s trying to see if that blond gal he was looking for all day is getting back on the ship.”

  “I’ll bet you’re right,” Savannah said as she observed Richard and Dora enter a coffee shop on the other side of the atrium to her right. She nudged Granny and nodded in their direction as they took seats at the small round tables with marble tops and wrought-iron chairs.

  Granny saw and smiled. “Okay,” she said. “We’ve got Mama and Poppa Bear in place.”

  Savannah saw Dirk, Ryan, and John stroll into the atrium, as well. They sidled over to a quaint little shop that was selling gelato and slid into a booth that had easy access to the piano area where moping Franky B. sat and pouted.

  “Okay,” Granny said. “The gang’s all here. Let’s get this shindig rollin’.”

  Savannah gave the guys in the gelato shop and Dirk’s parents in the coffee bar a brief nod, which they returned.

  For better or for worse, it was showtime.

  Savannah placed her hand on her grandmother’s shoulder. “Are you sure about this, Granny? I keep telling you, you don’t have to do it.”

  “Of course I don’t have to do it. I know that. I want to do it.”

  “You don’t have to prove anything to us, Gran. I want you to know that.”

  Granny gave an impatient sniff. “Of course I know that. I’m not tryin’ to prove nothin’ to nobody. It’s just that I’m sure I can do this better than any of the rest of you, so it oughta be my job.”

  “Okay. But if you run into any trouble at all—”

  “I know. I know. Just holler and y’all will come runnin’ and do that throwin’
down, slappin’ the cuffs on thing.”

  “In a heartbeat. As a matter of fact, if I see you do anything, like even scratch your nose lopsided, I’ll come running to rescue you.”

  “I know you will, sugar. It won’t come to that, but I’m grateful for the thought anyway.”

  She stood on tiptoe and kissed her granddaughter’s cheek. “Besides, he don’t look all that mean to me. In fact, he looks like a sad sack who could use a little bit o’ company.”

  Casually, Gran left Savannah and meandered over to the piano. A good-looking gentleman in a formal black suit, stiff white shirt, and black bow tie was playing an old-fashioned love song with remarkable skill and passion.

  Gran stood next to his stool for a time and listened to him play. When his song was finished, Savannah watched her grandmother tap the pianist on the shoulder and say something to him that brought a sweet smile to his face.

  That was her Granny Reid. Everywhere she went she seemed to bring out the best in people.

  Savannah only hoped that her contact with Frank Bellissimo would render the same result.

  She held her breath as Granny sauntered over to the love seat where Bellissimo sat. Would she be able to strike up a conversation with him? Or would he tell her in typical tough guy fashion to get lost?

  So intently was Samantha focusing on the two of them that she didn’t even notice her own husband when he left Ryan and John in the gelato shop. She didn’t see him until he walked up and stood beside her.

  “I’ve always loved your granny,” he said softly in her ear. “But I don’t think I’ve ever been as proud of her as I am right now.”

  “Can you imagine having that much moxie when you’re in your eighties?” Savannah asked.

  “No, but I can certainly imagine her granddaughter having that much when she hits eighty. In fact I’d say it’s a done deal.”

  Savannah laughed. “I wish I could hear what they’re saying to each other. Gran sat down beside him, and he didn’t kick her off the seat. I’d say that’s a good start.”