After an awkward silence, Matt the bosun said, “That’s true.”
“I heard her say it,” Andrei said.
“Me, too,” Sam said.
“I bet she even told you, Helen,” Mira said.
“She said she was sick of waiting on rich idiots,” Helen said.
“Sh! Keep your voice down,” Mira cautioned. “What if a guest heard you?”
“You asked,” Helen said, trying to keep her voice mild.
“Louise may have complained,” Suzanne said, “but we all do that. She’s always been reliable. I don’t believe she left. She might quit when we got to Atlantis—like the stew Helen replaced—but I can’t see Louise leaving us in the lurch.”
“You didn’t work with her the way I did,” Mira said. “Louise said the storm was the last straw. She knew we had at least ten hours of sailing today. She said she couldn’t stand this yacht another minute. She was afraid she might hurt herself—or a guest.”
Josiah Swingle was a judge listening to the arguments. Now he spoke for the first time since he asked Mira to give her account. “Why would a lone woman with a lot of cash go off on a strange boat in a foreign country?” he asked. “It’s dangerous.”
“It wasn’t risky,” Mira said. “She left on a fishing charter boat that operates out of Miami. The captain was anchored in the same cove as us. He was heading home and happy to have the extra money.”
“What was the name of this boat?” Josiah asked.
“Aces High,” Mira said. “It docks at the Miami Beach Marina with the other fishing charters.”
“Describe it,” the captain said.
“Typical charter fishing boat,” she said. “Hatteras cabin cruiser, white with a tuna tower. Maybe thirty feet long. Well cared for. I don’t know the size of the crew, but the captain said he had a party of four fishermen aboard. I think Louise saw the boat, flagged them down and offered the captain cash to take her home. I heard voices and came down to the swim platform. Louise was boarding the boat. She’d already handed her duffel to a crew member. I tried to stop her and that’s when she fought me. Suzanne heard the commotion upstairs. By the time she came down, the boat was gone. Carl was there, too.”
“I’ll tell the Bahamian custom agents,” the captain said.
“Will this make trouble for us?” asked Andrei, the first engineer.
“I don’t think so,” Josiah said. “I haven’t cleared her into the country.
“Back to work, everyone. We’re all behind schedule. The owners are going to customs at eight o’clock. I’ll go with them. We have to present ourselves in person. You’ll leave here at eight fifteen so I can clear in the crew.”
The captain stalked off toward the bridge and the crew got their orders from their immediate supervisors.
“Helen, we have to do Louise’s work as well as ours,” Mira said. “Start the laundry, then go to the galley and help serve breakfast. The men are awake and out of the sky lounge, so I’ll start cleaning it.”
Mira was taking on a tough job, Helen thought. Scotty and his cigars left more ash than a volcanic eruption. She put her breakfast plate and cup in the crew galley dishwasher, threw two loads of towels in the washer and ran upstairs to the coffee- and cinnamon-scented galley. The chef seemed content in her kingdom.
“Finish setting up for breakfast,” Suzanne said. “The guests could show up any moment—at least I hope so. They have to go through customs early if we’re going to make Atlantis today.”
Suzanne had prepared a buffet with colorful fruit salad in melon bowls, baskets of fresh-baked bread and muffins, bowls of Greek yogurt, granola, steel-cut oatmeal, crisp bacon, plump sausages and fried potatoes.
“All you need is an ice sculpture and you’ll have a buffet big enough for a cruise ship,” Helen said.
The chef peeled the tape off the cabinets and removed the Bubble Wrap that kept the china from shifting during the storm. Helen saw at least four sets of china.
“What service should I use?” she asked.
“The Spode Stafford Flowers on that lower shelf.” Suzanne handed her a plate with delicate flowers and a scrolled gold rim.
“Pretty,” Helen said.
“I’ll say. It’s eight hundred a place setting,” she said. “We only bring it out when the sea is calm.”
“My hands tremble at the thought of carrying it,” Helen said.
“Just be glad you don’t have to serve a formal dinner. Missus likes to use her Royal Copenhagen Flora Danica. That’s seven thousand a place setting.”
“I could trip and wipe out a year’s wages,” Helen said.
The footsteps on the guest staircase silenced their conversation. A rumpled, red-eyed Scotty staggered into the galley, trailing wisps of cigar smoke. He’d changed into fresh clothes, but still smelled like stale stogies.
“Got any coffee?” he asked. Exhausted by those three words, he sat in the dining room. Earl and Ralph followed a little later. Earl managed one word: “Coffee.” Ralph grunted. Helen wasn’t sure if that was a command or a greeting.
After a coffee infusion, the men ordered hearty meat-and-cheese-stuffed omelets with sausage, bacon and fried potatoes. Helen delivered the food without a mishap.
“Got any hot sauce, Chef?” Earl asked.
“Six kinds,” Suzanne said. “Louisiana Hot Sauce, Tabasco sauce, Scorned Woman—”
“Stop! I’ll take Scorned Woman,” Earl said. “Don’t bother with a sissy bowl. Serve it straight from the bottle.”
Helen watched Earl drown his omelet in the fiery brownish sauce.
“Jeez, Earl, is your mouth lined with asbestos?” Scotty said.
“Best cure for a hangover I know,” Earl said as the sweat broke out on his forehead.
“The best cure I know is to keep drinking,” Scotty said.
All three men abandoned their breakfasts after a few bites. After two cups of coffee, Scotty was alert enough to ask, “Why are we anchored? This isn’t Atlantis.”
“Change of plans,” Earl said. “Captain got a warning about a waterspout last night and dropped anchor off Bimini. We have to go through customs at Alice Town when they open at eight. If we’re lucky, we’ll get to Atlantis this evening.”
“Think we better wake up the girls?” Scotty asked.
“Yap!” Mitzi said, and all three men winced.
“Beth is here,” Earl said.
Beth was a vision in an indigo linen pantsuit and a heavy Native American squash-blossom necklace. Languidly beautiful, she rolled Mitzi in an aqua stroller and parked it beside her chair. The poodle wore a silver squash-blossom collar studded with dark blue lapis.
Mitzi yapped again and Beth saw her husband frown. She cooed at the little poodle and fed her organic chicken and rice from a Spode bowl.
Rosette, thin and dried as a strip of leather, showed up about seven fifteen in a nautical striped top and linen pants. She played with her oatmeal. Beth squeezed lime juice on a mango and tortured it while she stuffed Mitzi with food to keep her quiet.
Everyone drank gallons of coffee, but nobody was hungry, except Pepper. She arrived at seven thirty, looking outrageously fresh in a white off-the-shoulder top and tight emerald green pants.
Pepper cheerfully attacked three fried eggs, bacon and half a loaf of toast. “I feel really good this morning after barfing my guts out all night,” she said.
Beth and Rosette glared at her but said nothing.
Scotty smiled his approval. “Good, you’re up early,” he said.
“I’m wearing my green outfit so we can go emerald shopping this morning,” Pepper said.
“We’re not shopping this morning,” Scotty said.
Pepper’s face fell and her candy pink lower lip trembled.
“We’ll get your emeralds,” Scotty said, gnawing on his cigar, “but the captain had to anchor in Bimini last night because the storm was so bad. We’ll go through customs here at Alice Town. Because you’ve been a good girl, I’ll buy you a bracelet and a necklace.”