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Michaela was totally relaxed. She floated on a raft in the private adult pool on the ship’s Lido deck. Her mind wandered as she reflected on the past year. It had been full and busy, and a bit scary at times with that crazy perp in her house. She really needed a break. Finally, she drifted off to sleep, something she rarely, if ever, did during the day. Angel stood guard over her from where he lay under the umbrella, watchfully checking his mistress and watching the people around her.
“Michaela, Michaela, Mic. Get up,” Dottie said in an irritated voice. “For heavens sakes, you were supposed to meet me for High Tea well over an hour ago.”
Mic struggled to open one of her eyes and saw Dottie, perfectly attired in the latest cruise wear, standing over her on the side of the pool. Angel stood beside her.
“Oh, Dottie. Sorry. I fell asleep,” she said with a yawn, “and for some reason, the alarm on my watch didn’t go off.”
Dottie remained silent and scowled down at her. “Perhaps,” she said icily, “that’s because you don’t have your watch on.”
Mic rolled off her float and stood in the water. “Well, how was it?” Dottie remained silent as Michaela pulled her body out of the saltwater. She spoke again and asked, “Did High Tea meet your expectations?”
“Humph,” Dottie snorted and ignored her. “I didn’t stay. I waited for you and when you didn’t come, I came down here,” Dottie said angrily. “Do you really expect me to believe you just fell asleep and didn’t come?”
Mic toweled her hair, “Yeah, that’s exactly what I expect.”
Dottie gave her an icy look. “Come on. You didn’t wear your watch on purpose,” she said as her blue eyes flashed angrily.
“That’s not true,” Mic defended herself. “I had every intention to join you for tea. You know how much I loved those scones yesterday. It would be worth leaving the pool for the scones,” she admitted as she stood by the pool and looked up at her perfectly coiffed friend and her dog who licked Dottie’s hand and looked at Mic with adoring eyes.
“Well, it’s too late now,” Dottie said acidly. “However, I met a nice young couple, a psychiatrist, and his wife, in the captain’s dining room. They’re joining us for dinner tonight, along with Senator Peter Bostitch. It’ll be an interesting time,” Dottie said happily.
Mic nodded. She knew Dottie scoured the ship every day for people she’d like to have dinner with. Mic supposed that was okay as long as they weren’t boring and tedious people, like the ones they’d eaten dinner with the first night after leaving Rome. That had been, at best, painful and the longest dinner she’d ever had.
“Sounds good,” Michaela said as she looked over at the pool bar. “Let’s have a piña colada. Go over there and save us that larger table under the umbrella and I’ll order the drinks.”
Dottie smiled, “Okay. Make mine with double rum and less of the sweet stuff. I don’t want to whack my blood pressure or my blood sugar from the sweet drinks you consume that are like Kool-Aid,” she complained as she turned to walk toward the umbrella table.
“Oh, did they take the sugar out of the rum?” Michaela asked, her voice a tad sarcastic, as she picked up her sunglasses, bathing suit cover up and hat, and wandered over to the pool bar. She ordered their drinks and as she waited, her eyes wandered over to the two men sitting at the pool bar. One man looked familiar, but she couldn’t place him. He had oily black hair and a sinister look about him. Her stomach constricted in pain for a few moments as she watched the man. Where have I seen this guy? She asked herself as she pulled her ship charge card from her pocket.
“Here you go, ma’am,” the bartender said as he returned her ship charge card. “I’ll carry the tray over to your table,” he offered.
Mic smiled, nodded, and led the way to where Dottie was seated on the aft side of the adult pool. The waiter left the drinks on the table and Michaela sat down and looked at Dottie. “So... tell me about these people we’re having dinner with.”
Dottie motioned for her to be quiet and nodded her head toward the table next to them. “Hush,” she said in a loud whisper. “Those two people over there are arguing about the new Blake Pharmaceutical drug. One of them insists it gave one of his patients a heart attack and caused another one to commit suicide.”
Mic stole a look at the table next to them. Her eyes rested on a young man, his face was white with anger as he stared at an older man. The young man had bright red hair. The older man wore a Blake Pharmaceutical nametag, but Mic couldn’t read his name. The conversation was heated.
The young man’s voice was loud and agitated, “I’m telling you, the drug wasn’t tested well enough. I’ve read the research studies. Your company never tested the drug independently, and that never should’ve happened. You’re the vice-president in charge of research, and you know this drug needs to be recalled for testing,” he continued furiously in a slightly lower voice as he hit the table with his hand to make his point. Drinks splattered the table. “The drug is unsafe,” the man insisted.
The Blake representative looked around the crowd. He hoped no one had overheard the crazy psychiatrist he had reluctantly agreed to meet. “Will you shut that Irish trap of yours? People are staring at you,” the Blake Pharmaceutical representative hissed. “You may be a physician, but you’re not a researcher. This drug is safe. It met all of the US pharmaceutical requirements with flying colors.”
The physician was flushed, “Yes, I am a physician and a researcher, and the drug isn’t safe. You’ve received thousands of complaints. Tell the wife and the husband of my two patients that are dead that this drug is safe.”
The pharmaceutical representative shrugged his shoulders. His demeanor was one of apathy.
The physician was furious. He glared at the rep and said, “The autopsies confirmed my suspicions. Both victims had the residual chemicals of Quelpro in their bodies, chemicals compounded in the United States.
The rep’s eyes burned with anger as a slow flush traveled up to his neck. “That’s two patients... two people out of thousands who’ve taken the drug and gotten better. Two deaths mean nothing statistically,” the man said loudly, a look of contempt on his face.
The physician stood and glared angrily at the rep. “The drug isn’t safe, and I intend to tell my colleagues tomorrow during my talk.” He looked at the check on the table and grabbed it. “Screw you; I’ll pay for my own drink. You and your damned company aren’t buying me,” he snarled as he headed for the doors separating the pool area from the rest of the ship.
The pharmaceutical representative shook his head and cursed under his breath. He moved toward the pool bar and took a seat. Mic heard him order a double whiskey. The bartender hopped to attention.
Mic watched the corporate guy and thought he was gonna have a stroke. His face was beat red and she could swear that smoke came out of his ears. He finished his drink in one long sip and ordered another. Then she noticed the Blake representative was sitting with the man with greasy, dark hair who seemed familiar to her.
“Well, that was pretty interesting,” Dottie snorted. “I don’t think that drug rep, or executive, whoever he was, agreed with the doctor.”
“No kidding,” Mic opined, as she watched the pharmaceutical representative signal the waiter for another drink.
“That’s the cat’s meow for me,” Dottie said. “That’s exactly why I don’t take all those pills my doctors want to give me.” She kicked Mic’s leg under the table to get her attention. “You know all those damned pills have side effects?”
Mic didn’t respond as she continued to watch the man quickly consume his second drink.
“Hey. You. I’m talking to you, Michaela McPherson,” Dottie whined.
Michaela grinned and said, “Yeah, really. All drugs have side effects. But sometimes you gotta take the risk and take the drug,” She gave Dottie a stern look. “Either way, did you take your heart pill this morning?”
Dottie nodded briefly and reached for her drink, “Dammit, Michaela. I may be old, but I still know to take my medicine.”
Mic nodded, but her eyes returned to the two men at the bar. The pharmaceutical representative and the guy she thought she knew had struck up a conversation. She looked back at Dottie and said, “Now, what were you saying?”
Dottie gave her a dirty look. “Nothing. Absolutely nothing.”
Mic laughed. “Okay, Countess. Don’t get uppity with me.”
Dottie glared at her and said, “I told you. I met a nice young couple and we’re having dinner with them. If you’ll pay attention to me, I’ll tell you about them.”
Michaela smiled and listened to Dottie’s story, but her eyes jumped back and forth between Dottie and the two men at the bar. They gave her an uneasy feeling.
She hated it when a feeling came over her that something bad was gonna happen. She picked up her piña colada, savored the taste, and pushed the two men out of her mind.