The chef had the ideal setup for smuggling. She had to go into town every day to buy fresh food. She talked to strangers in the marketplace and fishermen in port. She and the deckhand carried boxes and bags back to the yacht daily. Cute, ditzy Sam would never search them unless they were loaded with free beer.
Helen went straight to the cabinet and opened it. The chef was bold. She hadn’t bothered hiding the bag. Helen’s heart leaped when she saw the green sparkle in the strong Bahamian sunlight. She reached for that green glimmer.
And pulled out a T-shirt trimmed with fake green jewels and the slogan IT’S BETTER IN THE BAHAMAS.
Emeralds, indeed! Helen threw it down in disappointment. Then she got a grip on herself, folded the shirt, put it back in the bag and slammed the cabinet shut. The chef hadn’t been hiding anything. She was simply in a sour mood this morning.
So am I, Helen thought. I need to work off this anger. Time to clean the boys’ cabin. She threw in two more loads of laundry, then grabbed her caddy, prepared to face Andrei and Carl’s mess. She snapped on a fresh pair of disposable gloves.
When she opened the cabin door, the fug was a slap in her face. The room smelled like old socks and stinky feet. She couldn’t see the floor for the dirty uniforms and mildewed towels. At least the two had made their bunks. Helen threw their soiled laundry into the passage and tossed their empty beer cans. Removing the sticky drink rings on the oak chest took real elbow grease.
The boys had managed to beat Ralph in the competition for filthiest onboard head.
Helen scrubbed furiously at the fixtures, the mirror, the furniture and finally the floor.
She would not search for Carl’s black Prada backpack until this cabin was clean. The backpack would be her reward for hard work.
An hour later, the cabin smelled of lemon polish and Scrubbing Bubbles.
Helen was ready to claim her prize. It had to be in the closet, but the door was jammed. She struggled to wrench it open, felt it give, then ducked. Out tumbled smelly shoes and a landslide of girlie magazines. She wondered if the Bulgarian engineer was the one excited by Big Booty Women.
Carl’s backpack was wedged in the far corner, a black Prada boulder. Helen pulled it free. Please, be what I’m looking for, she prayed, as she shoved aside the debris, then sat on the floor to unzip the backpack. It was so overloaded, the zipper kept sticking. She eased it open, inch by inch.
At last, she could see what was inside: gold and white cardboard boxes, like the ones for jewelry. Yes!
Helen opened the first box and saw dull black. A women’s Gucci leather wallet, still in the box.
What?
She opened another box. A slim Fendi wallet. Then a red Miu Miu cosmetics case. Helen counted some thirty wallets, cosmetic cases and clutch purses. They weren’t fakes. These were designer labels.
From her time in retail, Helen estimated the first mate had about twelve thousand dollars in designer wallets stashed in that backpack.
The captain had a smuggler on board, but not the one she was hired to find. She’d tell Josiah, but she’d have to keep searching.
Wrong again, Helen thought, as she refilled the backpack and shoved it in the corner.
I’m useless on this trip. She dumped smelly shoes back into the closet and heaped the magazines after them. I’ll have to clean my way to the Bahamas and back again, if I don’t find the emeralds—and fast. We leave for Lauderdale tomorrow evening.
I may be a partner in Coronado Investigations, but I’m not Phil’s equal. Being a private eye had sounded so romantic. At worst, I expected to be bored on a long stakeout. Hah. I’ll be the only PI with dishpan hands and housemaid’s knee.
She checked her watch. Two o’clock. The crew wouldn’t be back for three hours. Time to face another failure, Helen thought. I have to call my sister, Kathy, and find out if the blackmailer took the cash. That was my fault twice: first for marrying Rob, then for trying to catch the blackmailer alone. The last time he made a demand, I staked out the money drop—and fell asleep. I’m a real Samantha Spade.
Helen braced herself and speed-dialed her sister. Kathy answered on the first ring, jumping into the conversation without a hello. “Rob took the money,” she said. “I left thirty thousand dollars in a grocery sack on the same Dumpster—the one in the abandoned strip mall. Then I went to Target and when I got back, the cash was gone.”
“Either the blackmailer got it,” Helen said, “or a homeless person hit the jackpot.”
“It had to be Rob,” Kathy said. “He hasn’t called since. But he’ll want more. What are we going to do when he doubles the money again? You can’t pay him sixty thousand next time.”
“I’m not going to,” Helen said. “I’ll bring Phil with me. We’ll do a stakeout and catch him.”
“But you can’t! You promised.” Kathy’s voice was shrill with panic.
“I promised I wouldn’t ruin my nephew’s future,” Helen said. “But if the blackmailer really is Rob—and you’re convinced he is—then it’s time to call in Phil and end this charade. I’m not lying to my husband anymore, Kathy. It will ruin my marriage. You can do what you like about your Tom, but I’m bringing in a professional detective. We can trust Phil to protect your boy. He’ll be angry at me, but he’ll help. I just hope I don’t lose the only man I’ve ever loved.”
A chasm seemed to open before Helen. Life without Phil would be unbearable.
Kathy’s frantic plea interrupted Helen’s vision of her lonely, loveless future. “What do I do the next time he calls?” she asked.
“The blackmailer only calls your landline,” Helen said. “I’ll send you a telephone jack and a pocket digital recorder. Hide them near the phone. When he calls, stick the suction cup on the receiver and record his call. When Phil catches the blackmailer, we’ll have a recording for the police. Rob will be trapped. Tommy will be saved.”
“I’m not good with mechanical things,” Kathy said.
“Then you’d better learn,” Helen said. “I’ll send you the recording equipment. Set it up and call the time and temperature recording every day. Do it until you can slap on the jack’s suction cup automatically.”
“I’ll try,” Kathy said.
“No,” Helen said. “You will practice until you don’t have to think about it. It’s the only way to save your son. Promise?”
“I promise,” Kathy said. “Are you sure this will work?”
“You know I’d do anything for Tommy,” Helen said. “I love you, baby sis.”
After Helen hung up, she realized she hadn’t answered Kathy’s question.
She still had time to call Phil before the crew returned. She hoped he could answer his cell phone at work. She didn’t exhale until he said, “Helen! I can talk for a minute. I’m outside checking the pool.”
“I have news,” Helen said. “The captain confirmed the shady lady dated a yacht guest.” She repeated their conversation, minus any names.
“Good work,” he said. “Have you found the smuggler?”
“No,” Helen said. “The boat doesn’t get back until the day after tomorrow. We’ll finish our chores about noon.”
“Plenty of time to catch a crook,” Phil said. “You’ll find him. I’m always right.”
“I won’t waste time discussing that. What’s happening with our other case?”
“Lots,” he said. “I can’t say more on a cell phone. I found out what killed our man. But I can’t connect it to the lady yet.”
“Has she been meeting with Surfer Dude?” Helen asked.