“He tends to romanticize his smuggling. But I know for a fact Max was a scuba diver and a treasure hunter. Found some Spanish treasure off the Florida coast. Shipwreck-salvage treasure hunters blow through cash like coke addicts and they always need investors. A potential investor hired me to investigate Max. He wanted to make sure Max wasn’t running drugs. Max was clean and I said so. I knew he was bringing in emeralds, but I kept quiet about them.”
“Why?” Helen said.
“Didn’t like the twit who hired me. When I made a suggestion, he said, ‘We don’t pay you to think. We pay you to find out. Is he or is he not smuggling drugs?’
“‘He’s not,’ I said.
“The twit never asked about emeralds and I never mentioned them.”
“Do you think Max would talk about emerald smuggling?” Helen asked.
“After a few beers, we may have trouble shutting him up,” Phil said. “When do you have to report to the yacht?”
“Seven tomorrow night,” Helen said.
“I get off work at five,” Phil said. “I’ll call Max and see if we can have an early dinner with him tomorrow. What time do you sail?”
“The Belted Earl is a motor yacht,” Helen said. “We cruise at nine o’clock for Atlantis.”
“A moonlight cruise,” Phil said. “Romantic.”
“Just me and my scrub brush,” Helen said. “We’ll work all night, but the yacht gets into the Bahamas about ten the next morning. That way the crew can check in with immigration, run errands in port and hit the bars while the owners go to Atlantis.”
“You sound like an old salt already,” Phil said. “The crew really goes drinking after working all night and most of the day?”
“That’s what Mira said. They’re still in their twenties,” Helen said. “At forty-one, I don’t party so hearty anymore.”
“What are you packing?”
“I pick up my uniforms tomorrow,” she said. “The rest is ready.” She held up the bulging zippered bag.
“That’s all?” Phil raised an eyebrow in surprise.
“There isn’t room on board for lots of crew luggage,” she said. “I’ll bring this and carry my BlackBerry in my purse, so I can keep in touch with you. The captain said calls from the Bahamas to the U.S. are outrageous—a hundred dollars or so for a few minutes. He agreed I could put the phone charges on his bill.”
“You got that in writing, I hope?” Phil asked.
“You bet.” Helen tossed the fat carryall on the floor. “I’m following another rule for new crew: Never bring more than you can carry off in a hurry. If things go bad, I can abandon these T-shirts and sandals.”
She pulled Phil down on the bed. His cap slid off when she ran her fingers through his long hair and she tugged on the coverall’s zipper.
“Why don’t you slip out of that, Bob?” Helen said. “I’m feeling hot.”
CHAPTER 16
“Helen!” Phil called her on the phone, talking fast. “Blossom is on the move. I’m tailing her.”
“Where? What? What’s going on?” Helen had been snoozing since Phil left for the Zerling mansion this morning. Today was her last chance to relax before she started working on the yacht.
“I’m following Blossom,” Phil said. “She’s acting suspicious. She told me she was going shopping, but I thought, Why tell me? I’m the hired help. Did I wake you?”
“Never mind that. Where are you now?” Helen asked.
“Sitting behind her red Porsche at the stop sign. She’s trying to turn out of Hendin Island onto Federal Highway. She—”
An angry horn blast and screeching brakes interrupted him. Helen winced, held her breath, then asked, “Was that an accident?”
“Almost,” Phil said. “Blossom nearly got creamed trying to make a left through the traffic while talking on her cell phone. She’s still at the stop sign, but at least she put down her phone.”
“What if she looks in her rearview mirror and sees you?” Helen asked.
“She won’t recognize me,” Phil said. “I’m Jimmy Ray, driving a rented Chevy.”
“Jimmy Ray with the greasy gimme cap and half mullet?” Helen asked.
“Don’t dis Jimmy,” Phil said. “He’s doing a good job. There she goes. She made it this time. Hang on. I’m following her.”
Helen heard more honks. “Phil,” she shouted into the phone. “Be careful.”
“Can’t talk, darlin’,” he said. “Jimmy Ray is chasing Blossom.”
Helen waited for Phil to report back and paced the terrazzo floor. He was a good driver, but he was driving a strange car. Blossom sounded reckless. What if Phil got hurt trying to follow her?
Helen wandered into her living room, plumped a pillow on the turquoise Barcalounger and noticed a light layer of dust on her kidney-shaped coffee table. Cleaning could wait until she got home from the Belted Earl, she decided. She’d be dusting enough on the yacht.
Helen surveyed the midcentury antiques in her living room. She’d learned to like their colorful, playful forms. Margery had bought them when the Coronado was new. They’d aged gracefully, like the building.
She carried her empty coffee cup into the kitchen and checked the clock. Three thirty-two.
“Phil? Are you still there?” Helen said into her phone.
No answer. Phil must have left his cell phone on in the passenger seat. She heard ordinary street sounds, the soothing ocean roar of the traffic, the hiss of a bus’s brakes. Those were more reassuring than furious horns and frantic screeches. He must be safely working.
She felt Thumbs rubbing his furry head against her bare legs.
“You only love me when it’s dinnertime,” she told the cat, as she scratched his ears. He nudged her hand and patted his food bowl with his mittenlike paw. She poured him dry food and fresh water. “Phil will take care of you while I’m gone,” she said. “He’ll spoil you rotten.”
Thumbs, face down in his food, ignored her.
Helen went back to pacing. She checked the clock again. The hands were moving so slowly she wondered if it was broken. She checked her watch. No, it was only three thirty-eight.
“Phil?” she said into the phone. “Where are you?”
“Dixie Highway,” he said. “Near a grungy convenience store.”
“Doesn’t sound as upscale as Blossom’s Hendin Island home,” Helen said.
“No mansions in sight,” he said. “This strip mall has an auto-parts dealer, a thrift store and a radiator shop. Blossom just turned into the lot. I’m pulling into the pawnshop lot across the street to watch her.”
“Is she going to a Seven-Eleven?” Helen asked.
“Too high-class,” he said. “This is a nameless, paintless cinder block dump. Sells giant sodas, cigarettes, lottery tickets and chili dogs with a side of salmonella. It’s also a pickup spot for day laborers. I’ve passed it early in the morning when the contractors’ trucks arrive. The day laborers are a rough-looking crew. A sensible woman wouldn’t walk in that store alone. Hell, I’d think twice about it. It looks like a holdup waiting to happen.
“At least this part is easy. Blossom’s flashy red sports car sticks out like a sore thumb in the lot. She’s parking the Porsche by the door, next to a beat-up van with its back doors wired shut. Wait! She’s getting out.”
“She’s not going inside, is she?” Helen asked.
“She’s heading toward the door. Is that woman nuts, wearing jeans that tight? Now she’s sashayed past the door to the pay phone. She’s gripping her purse and she’s got an orange card in her hand, like a credit card. Man, that phone looks filthy. I don’t know how she can hold the receiver to her face. She’s punching in numbers. Looks like someone answered. Now she’s talking and giggling. Blossom looks like a very merry widow.”