Final Sail Page 11

  “Phil, it’s nearly four o’clock,” Helen said. “I have to leave in half an hour to meet Max by five.”

  After Phil hung up she slipped on her deck shoes, then checked that her carryall was packed for tonight’s yacht trip. She’d take it with her. Phil could drive her to the marina and Margery or Peggy could give him a ride back to his Jeep tomorrow.

  She was looking for her purse when her landline rang. It was Phil.

  “Blossom has left Grisette’s,” he said. “She’s carrying a pink shopping bag. Now she’s stashing it in her Porsche. Jimmy Ray is going to follow her.”

  “Is she going home?” Helen asked.

  “Can’t tell,” Phil said. “Jimmy Ray is behind her. The late-afternoon traffic is slow. I think she’s heading toward A1A. Looks like she wants to drive home along the ocean.”

  “Are you following her?” Helen said.

  “I’m not getting stuck in that traffic with the gawking tourists. I’ll stay on Federal Highway. Jimmy Ray has to hightail it back to the medical-building parking lot and disappear. I need to transform myself into an estate manager again. You go meet Max. I’ll call you as soon as I’m free. Turn on your cell phone.”

  “Be careful, Phil,” Helen said. “Don’t let her catch you.”

  Helen grabbed her purse and the carryall and patted Thumbs good-bye. The April evening was pleasantly warm. Margery, Peggy and Pete the parrot had assembled early by the pool for the nightly sunset salute. Peggy wore a cool green sundress that matched Pete’s feathers. Their landlady’s purple caftan floated on the evening breeze. Her nail polish was the color of the evening sun and her cigarette was an orange beacon.

  Peggy whistled when she saw Helen in her dress uniform. Margery raised her wineglass and called, “Hey, sailor, can I buy you a drink?”

  “I’ll take a rain check,” Helen said. “I’m meeting someone for background information. Then I report to the captain. I don’t want to have alcohol on my breath the first day on the job.”

  Margery sailed over, her silver earrings and bangle bracelets jingling. “Then I’ll tell you good-bye,” she said. “And be careful.”

  “You worry too much,” Helen said. “I’m cruising on a luxury yacht.”

  “With people rich enough to buy their way out of trouble,” Margery said. “You’re going undercover as a nobody maid. You’ll be alone on the ocean trying to catch a smuggler.

  “Remember, the easiest way to get rid of a body is dumping it over the side of a ship.”

  With that warning, she blew out a ferocious cloud of Marlboro smoke.

  CHAPTER 17

  Helen waited for Phil outside Aruba, a beachside restaurant in Lauderdale-by-the-Sea. Aruba was in a cluster of small seaside restaurants and souvenir shops.

  The ocean air was a soft caress. Helen heard the soothing whoosh of the waves. She looked like she belonged near the ocean in her yacht dress uniform: white skort and short white jacket with epaulets.

  Phil jumped out of his black Jeep, tossed his keys to the valet and saluted Helen.

  “Where do I enlist?” he said. “I love women in uniform. Do you get a gun?”

  “I get a caddy loaded with spray cleaner,” she said, laughing. “I can shoot to kill—germs.”

  He took her in his arms and said, “You’ve already shot me through the heart. I’ll miss you. A whole week, huh?” He unbuttoned the top button on her uniform. “Do we have time to go back and—?”

  “No,” Helen said. “We don’t. We’re supposed to meet Max. What’s he look like?”

  “A short older guy with gray hair,” Phil said.

  “That isn’t a good description in Florida,” Helen said. “Half the men in there have gray hair.”

  They scanned the gray-haired men bellied up to the bar—literally.

  “No Max,” Phil said. He checked his watch. “It’s four fifty-eight. He’ll be here.”

  “What happened with Blossom?” Helen asked. “Did you transform yourself back into an estate manager before she got home?”

  “With minutes to spare,” Phil said. “Well, seconds. I also carried her new clothes to her bedroom.”

  “Is Blossom still sleeping alone?” Helen asked.

  “So far as I can tell,” Phil said. “Arthur’s dressing room was still empty. I didn’t see another toothbrush and the seat was down on the toilet.”

  “Always a giveaway,” Helen said. “What did Blossom buy at Grisette’s?”

  “They sure weren’t mourning dresses,” Phil said. “They made her club clothes look like something she’d wear to tea with the queen. She bought a silky coral number with major holes—on-purpose holes.”

  “Cutouts, I think they’re called,” Helen said.

  “That dress will leave all her back and most of her front bare. She bought a hot pink sequin something I guess was a dress. I’ve seen bigger scarves. I left the bag on her bed.

  “Blossom was waiting for me downstairs in the den in a tight black top and those painted-on jeans. She’d draped herself over the rosewood bar. Her conversation was full of innuendos. She asked me to make her a manhattan. ‘I’m not a good bartender,’ I said.

  “‘I’m sure you’re good at everything, Phil,’ she said. Then she brushed against me. It didn’t feel like an accident.”

  “Maybe she needs a visit from her minister,” Helen said, fighting back her fury.

  “No, no,” Phil said. “I might learn something this way.”

  “Like what a slut she is?” Helen asked.

  “Trust me,” Phil said. “She’ll let her guard down.”

  “As long as she keeps her clothes on,” Helen said.

  “She’s no competition,” Phil said. “I should be worried about you in that hot uniform alone on a yacht. Some millionaire might carry you off.” He kissed her again.

  “Hey, you two, stop that! Quit smooching out here in front of God and everybody!”

  Helen and Phil saw a suntanned man in a Hawaiian shirt smiling and waving.

  “Max, you old pirate,” Phil said. “Since when did you confuse yourself with God? Meet my wife, Helen Hawthorne.”

  Max barely reached Helen’s shoulder. He was barrel-chested with short, powerful arms. Helen estimated his age at sixty-something. He wore a shark’s tooth on a thick gold chain and a chunky pinkie ring with a square-cut emerald.

  The sun caught his ring and it glittered with green fire.

  “Max Crutchley,” he said, crushing Helen’s hand. “Ol’ Phil got himself a babe.”

  They followed a thin pale-haired hostess past tables filled with diners to a glass-topped table overlooking the wide, sandy beach.

  “Best view in the house,” Helen said.

  They watched a hefty, sunburned man stumble past the window with a sloshing foam cup.

  “I could do without him,” Max said. “But that blonde in the bikini is easy on the eyes.”

  “I meant the ocean,” Helen said.

  “Sure you did,” Max said. “That’s a pretty muscular example of ocean life under the palm tree.”

  Phil snickered.

  “I thought we could talk private-like back here,” Max said. “My usual beer dives are okay for Phil, but not for a lady.”

  Phil winked at her. Max was definitely old-school, Helen thought.

  A waiter appeared and Max and Phil ordered beer and burgers. Helen wanted a club soda and the seafood stir-fry.

  “Let me get you a real drink, Helen,” Max said.

  “Thanks, but I have to report to the yacht right after dinner. That’s why I’m in uniform.”

  “You make one hell of a sailor,” Max said.

  After the waiter left, Helen said, “Phil told me you’re a diver.”

  “Used to be,” Max said. “Bad ticker now. Can’t dive anymore. Felt like they cut off my arm when the doc said no more. I loved diving, the riskier the better. Had a few close encounters with sharks, but it’s beautiful down there. More honest, too. Easier to spot the sharks.”
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  “They wear suits on land,” Phil said.

  “What do you want to know about emeralds, Helen?” Max asked. “Phil says you’re working a smuggling case. Should you let your lady do something that dangerous, Phil?”

  Helen bridled at that, but Phil put his hand over hers, a warning to let him talk. “I don’t ‘let’ Helen do anything, Max. She does what she wants. She can handle herself. Our client needs a woman operative.”

  “I’m hired to find a smuggler who’s part of the yacht crew,” Helen said. “The captain found a box of emeralds hidden on his ship on his last trip. By the time he went back for the stones, they were gone.”

  “Cut or uncut emeralds?” Max asked.

  “Cut stones.”

  “Smart.” Max nodded approval. “Uncut emeralds only have potential value because they can have flaws called inclusions. I was witness to the cutting of a large emerald. Thanks to an unseen inclusion in a potential hundred-thousand-dollar gemstone, the value dropped dramatically during the procedure. Where does this yacht sail?”

  “Mainly to the Bahamas and other Caribbean islands,” Helen said.

  “I’m guessing this is originating in the Bahamas,” Max said. “Been a smugglers’ haven since the old pirate days. How long has this smuggling been going on?”

  “The captain doesn’t know,” Helen said. “As soon as he found the stones, he hired us.”

  “So he’s a straight arrow?” Max asked.

  “Absolutely,” Helen said.

  The waiter arrived with monster plates of food. Max covered his burger and fries with a bloodbath of ketchup. Phil poured ketchup and hot sauce on his. Helen nibbled on her stir-fry.

  Max looked around to make sure there were no eavesdropping waiters and the other diners were busy with their own conversations.

  “It’s likely these emeralds are transported to the Bahamas by yacht,” Max said. “Yacht traffic emerging from Latin America is monitored by the U.S. Coast Guard in Bahamian waters and by the United States Army in the Caribbean. I was aboard a treasure-hunting boat in Bahamian waters just north of Havana. We received a lot of attention from a Coast Guard cutter. Had machine guns aimed at us.”

  “Any reason the Coast Guard would be interested?” Phil asked.

  “Of course not,” Max said, playing with the emerald ring on his little finger. Helen thought that gave him away.

  “Oh, hell, Phil, I can’t bullshit you,” Max said. “You knew what we were doing. I never understood why you didn’t turn me in.”

  “Didn’t like the twerp who hired me,” Phil said. “The investor. He wanted to make sure you weren’t running drugs. I tried to say I thought you were jewel smuggling, but he interrupted and said, ‘I’m not paying you to think. Is he smuggling drugs?’ I told him you weren’t.”

  “You told the God’s honest truth,” Max said. “Thanks to you, he invested in our salvage operation and we found Spanish gold. He was happy and I owe you big-time. Still do.”

  “Forget it,” Phil said, and sipped his beer.

  “I have friends on both sides of the law,” Max said. He turned to Helen. “You’ve got a tough job. Emeralds are easy to hide aboard a yacht.” He took a ketchup-slathered bite of burger.

  “That’s what the captain said. Isn’t Colombia where emeralds come from?” Helen asked. She speared a scallop in her stir-fry.

  “It’s a major source,” Max said. “Brazil is another. So are Egypt and other parts of Africa. Cleopatra’s mines in the deserts near the Red Sea produced some of the first emeralds. Egyptian stones are small and dark. They say Cleopatra loved her emeralds more than all her other jewels.

  “The Romans believed that emeralds did not fatigue the eyes like other gems. Did you know the emperor Nero wore emerald sunglasses to watch the gladiators die? Wonder how red blood looked through green glasses? Blood and emeralds. They go together.”

  Max abandoned the wreckage of his dinner to continue his lecture. “Mel Fisher, the greatest treasure hunter of all, discovered emeralds in the shipwreck Nuestra Señora de Atocha. Colombian emeralds. Mel found more than half a billion dollars in treasure in that salvage operation. When that Spanish ship was wrecked in the Florida Keys, two hundred sixty-four people died. More blood and emeralds.”

  Helen tried not to look at her watch. They had to leave soon. How could she steer Max back to the subject? She tried to signal Phil, but he was finishing his beer.

  “Does your captain know if he found Colombian emeralds?” Max asked.

  Good, Helen thought. Max was back on track.

  “He didn’t know,” Helen said. “He’s not an expert. The captain thought they looked like the emeralds he saw in the jewelry shops at Atlantis. The colors ranged from blue-green to deep green.”

  “Could be Colombian,” Max said. “An expert would know for sure. You said they were in a box. What kind?”

  “A plastic tackle box. The captain said it was filled with stones.”

  Max whistled. “That’s worth hundreds of thousands. Maybe more, depending on the quality. Your smuggler is smart, but not smart enough. He knows enough to smuggle in cut emeralds, but not how to treat them right. Loose stones should be stored in individual velvet compartments, not dumped in a box where they could get chipped or scratched.”

  “What happens to those emeralds once they reach the U.S.?” Helen asked.

  “The smuggler may try to fly with them to a dealer,” Max said. “The stones are not detectable during electronic screening procedures, so someone could have a suitcase full of gems and it would go unnoticed. Unless it was hand searched.

  “The smugglers are probably connected to a sleazy but legitimate dealer in gemstones. Believe me, in my brief experience with—uh, friends—they knew a few of those in Manhattan and Miami. Found them to be very unpleasant. Smart but real pricks. Pardon my language.”

  “You don’t have to apologize,” Helen said. “If the smugglers sell to a sleazy dealer, what’s their cut?”

  “I suspect it’s like using a fence,” Max said. “The smugglers will get a fraction of the real value.”

  The waiter reappeared. “All finished?” he asked. “How about dessert or coffee?”

  “No, thanks,” Helen said.

  The waiter put the check on the table and Phil reached for it. Max grabbed it first. “It’s good for my reputation to be seen with such a classy lady, even if she is married to this gray-haired geezer. Good luck catching your smuggler.

  “Be careful, Helen. Remember what I said about blood and emeralds. That kind of money makes people crazy.”

  CHAPTER 18

  Helen caught a ripple of excitement aboard the Belted Earl. White-uniformed staff were hurrying through their chores. She saw the edge of a box being carried into the crew mess and the flash of a feather duster. She heard feet pounding up the spiral staircase to the main deck.

  Finally, the cruise felt real. She was an undercover operative. This was more exciting than standing in a shop until she ached from boredom.

  Helen followed Mira through the secret passage to the crew quarters. The head stewardess wore her dress uniform and her hair was caught in a twist by her two-toned silver barrette. Her fresh-scrubbed face and bright smile made her look like a teenager.

  Mira slid open the second door in the passage. “Stow your bag in your cabin,” she said. “You can unpack later. Louise has the top bunk. She outranks you as second stewardess.”

  Helen followed Mira down the passage. White plastic caddies bristling with brushes, dusters and cleaning supplies were stowed in racks along the wall near the far entrance.

  “This is yours,” Mira said, pointing to the lowest caddy. She pushed open the door and they were through the looking glass into the carpeted guest quarters.

  “Always use the passage,” Mira said. “A stewardess is never seen while cleaning. This will be an easy trip. We have only two couples and they’re staying in the two closest staterooms.”

  The names PARADISE and BIMINI we
re on carved door plaques.

  “Ralph and Rosette have Bimini with the peacock blue accents,” Mira said. “Pepper and Scotty will sleep in Paradise. It’s azure blue.” Both were paneled with that honey-colored oak.

  “Gorgeous silk spread,” Helen said.

  “It’s custom-made,” Mira said. “So are the sheets and pillowcases. You’re looking at about four thousand dollars’ worth of bedding.”

  “What’s the routine when the guests arrive?” she asked.

  “The staff lines up when the guests come aboard,” Mira said. “Louise and I will serve drinks and the chef will have a buffet ready in the dining room. The boys will carry in the luggage and you’ll unpack it.”

  “By myself?” Helen asked. She tried to hide her panic. What if the guests complained and she was thrown off before the cruise started?

  “Don’t worry,” Mira said. “These wives usually go down with you when you unpack. Each room has a safe. They’ll put their jewelry away and you won’t have to touch it.”

  “Good,” Helen said. The panic was starting to fade.

  Mira opened the closet door and they were enveloped by the sweet smell of cedar. “If the wives decide to eat while you unpack, the jewelry goes in the underwear drawer here. When you clean, if money or jewelry is left lying around, you never touch it.”

  “We had those same instructions when I worked at the hotel,” Helen said. “Not that our guests had valuable jewelry.”

  “We had one incident where a girl was accused of stealing a sapphire necklace,” Mira said. “Turned out the wife never brought it on board. But the captain had to search our cabins and warn us that stealing was a firing offense. The wife finally called home and her maid found it in the bedroom. The wife was mortified. She tipped the girl three hundred dollars, but it was still uncomfortable.”

  “Do we get tips?” Helen asked.

  “It’s up to the guests,” Mira said. “Sometimes a guest will slip us each a hundred dollars or give the captain money for the crew. But Earl gives us a generous yearly bonus.”