Eric knew that if he ran into Alvirah Meehan on an isolated deck, he’d toss her overboard. If it weren’t for her, Bull’s-Eye and Highbridge would still be safely in his stateroom, and he’d be that much closer to his big payoff. The way things were, they had told Eric they wouldn’t give him the second half of his money when their people picked them up off Fishbowl Island. And he’d be lucky if one or the other of them, once they were safely outside the United States, didn’t write a letter explaining to the authorities exactly how they fled the country.
Eric had another thought. If he came across Dudley on an isolated deck, it would be an even greater pleasure to throw him in the drink. All this was coursing through his mind, as he was temporarily forced to abandon the search for his two charges and check on Crater. Grabbing on to the bannister, he hurried down flight after flight of steps to the medical facility in the bowels of the ship. With each descending flight, the rocking of the ship lessened somewhat, but even so he had to steady himself along the guardrail of the passageway outside the infirmary.
Expecting to find an empty waiting room, Eric was disagreeably surprised to find it filled with queasy passengers demanding ear patches for their seasickness. Bobby Grimes, whose drunken outburst had been the talk of the cocktail party, was holding his head in his hands. When he spotted Eric, he barked, “I knew I should have stayed home.”
I wish you had, too, Eric thought, as he crossed the small reception area and opened the door that led to Gephardt’s office and the treatment rooms. The nurse behind the desk was sorting medication. She had the aura of a guard dog. Looking at Eric, she frowned in disapproval.
“My uncle wants me to speak to Crater,” he told her. “Which room is he in?”
“Second on the right,” she answered crisply. “Dr. Gephardt is with him.”
The door to Crater’s room was open. Gephardt was beside the bed. Eric heard him say, “This shot will definitely relieve those back spasms, Mr. Crater. It should also help you sleep.”
“I want to go back to my room,” Crater protested, his voice drowsy.
“Not tonight,” Gephardt said firmly. “Your back is bad, and we’re in a storm. The last thing we need is for you to fall again. Down here you’re in the calmest part of the ship, and we can keep an eye on you.”
Crater tried to sit up but fell back immediately, moaning in pain.
“See what I mean!” Gephardt said triumphantly. “The medicine will start to work in a few minutes. Now just relax.”
Eric tapped the door to announce his presence and walked over to the bed. “Mr. Crater, we’re so sorry about your accident. But you’re in good hands with Dr. Gephardt.”
“Those miserable kids,” Crater moaned. “Who stuck me at that table?”
“Never mind,” Eric said soothingly. “From now on you’ll be seated at the Commodore’s table. He’s wonderfully entertaining.”
“That’s right,” Gephardt agreed. “Mr. Crater, you said yourself these back spasms don’t last long. We hope to have you up and about as soon as possible. But you absolutely cannot move now. Of course, we can always summon your helicopter when the storm passes, if you feel you’d be more comfortable at home.”
Crater’s face darkened. “Where’s my cell phone?” he asked as he drifted off to sleep.
Gephardt nodded to Eric, indicating they should step outside. Eric followed him into his office. A lightbulb had gone off in Eric’s head.
“He seems alone,” Eric said solicitously. “Is he traveling with anyone?”
“No,” Gephardt answered slowly. “He really puzzles me. His back is certainly in spasm, but he’s not as sickly as he appeared. His body is surprisingly muscular and all his vital signs are perfect. I can’t understand why he was wearing a grayish makeup on his face. Underneath it, his skin is ruddy, but that stuff makes him look like a cadaver.”
Eric glanced down at Gephardt’s desk. Crater’s chart was right there, his cabin number next to his name. “You’re definitely keeping him here overnight?” Eric asked.
Gephardt nodded solemnly. “At least overnight. I know he’d prefer to be back in his own room, but with that shot I gave him he’ll be lights out until tomorrow morning.” He then smiled. “Can you believe the Deitz children’s mother already had them make Get Well cards for him? He tore them up unopened.”
Eric laughed, pretending to share a moment with Gephardt.
“Now, Eric, if you’ll excuse me, I have a waiting room full of patients,” Gephardt said briskly.
For a split second Eric was angry at being dismissed by a nerd like Gephardt when he was dying to get out of there anyway. But the anger passed quickly. Now at least he had a plan.
Moving even faster than before, he hurried back up the companionway to the Lido. It was nearly empty. “Not too many takers for the buffet tonight?” he asked one of the waiters.
“Not with this weather.”
“I thought I’d see some of the Santas up here,” Eric said, trying to sound casual. “So many people were talking to them at dinner, they didn’t get much chance to eat.”
“Two of them came up here really early. We weren’t even set up yet. They took some grapes and cheese.”
Eric’s pulse quickened. That had to have been Bull’s-Eye and Highbridge. “Did they sit in here?”
“No, they took the food with them and went out the back.” The waiter turned his attention to the buffet table. “We’re starting to put everything away early. Can I get you anything?”
“No, thanks,” Eric answered quickly. “See you around.” He knew the waiter would think he was insane if he went out the back door into the rain. Instead, he took the inside archway that led to the bank of elevators, strode past them, and exited through a side door that opened onto the deck. A driving rain immediately soaked his uniform. Getting on his hands and knees so the waiters wouldn’t see him walking around in the rain like a lunatic, he headed toward the back of the ship. If Bull’s-Eye and Highbridge were hiding out there, he’d have to let them know he was in the vicinity.
He waited until he got to the sports area before he started singing, “Santa Claus is comin’ to town.”