Eric could not believe what was going on. The ship was now at a complete stop and would soon be turning back to port. I’m a dead man, he thought despairingly. If I can’t get those two off the ship, and they get caught when we dock in Miami, Bull’s-Eye will definitely have me killed. Even if I’m in jail, he’ll find a way. . . . Eric could not believe how stupid he had been. If I had just helped Uncle Randolph make this operation work, I could have had a good life, he thought. I’m his only heir. There would have been lots of money, lots of single girls on the cruises—I could have had everything.
No matter what, I’ve got to get those two off the ship!
He hurried up to the suite and opened the door of his room. While he was still debating what to tell the two escapees in his closet, Eric heard the door from the corridor open and realized that the Commodore had followed him.
Eric turned to him. “Uncle Randolph, I can’t tell you how sorry I am that we have to go back to Miami. I know how awful it is for you, with the bad publicity we’re already getting.”
The Commodore sat heavily on the couch and buried his face in his hands. “My boy,” he said, “it’s worse. Much worse.”
What could be worse? Eric wondered as he felt his entire body burst into a sweat. “What is it?” he managed to croak.
“We are virtually certain we have a mobster on board as a stowaway—the so-called Bull’s-Eye Tony Pinto.”
“Wha . . . wha . . . what?” Eric stammered.
“There is no engine problem. We’re only saying that to avoid a panic among the passengers. As you must know, Jack Reilly is the head of the Major Case Squad in New York City. We are following his advice. We will return to Miami, and the police will search from one end of this ship to the other. Wait till I find out where he’s been hiding and who’s been hiding him.” The Commodore’s voice rose. “Give me two minutes with that crook in a locked room! I’ll show him what a Bull’s-Eye is!”
Eric cringed. Bull’s-Eye and Highbridge are listening to this, he thought. At least I don’t have to break the news to them. He remembered an expression of his grandmother’s, “We get comfort wherever we can find it.” Eric looked at the locked glass case where his grandmother’s ashes were reposing in the silver box. You never liked me, he thought. That’s why I turned out the way I did.
The Commodore stood. “The ceremony will begin very soon,” he said. “We are going to make it short and sweet, then the Captain will start the engines and we’ll head home. I’m going to spend these last precious moments with Grandma in the chapel.”
As soon as his uncle was gone, Eric went into his room and shut the door. His palms so sweaty he could barely open the door of the closet, he braced himself and turned the handle.
“I’d kill you now, but we still need you,” Bull’s-Eye said with no emotion in his voice.
“We have to get off the ship while it’s stopped,” Highbridge told Eric. “Give me your satellite phone. Get the reading of the latitude and longitude. We’ll call our people and tell them to find us in your dinghy. They can figure out how far we’d drift.”
Bull’s-Eye reached in the pocket of his Santa suit and pulled out Crater’s gun. “All the cash we gave you is coming with us, too.” Eric looked up at the shelf and realized that his locked suitcase had been pried open.
“We were looking for our clothes,” Bull’s-Eye explained. “Too bad you weren’t smart enough to put our deposit for this trip in the bank. Forget about it. It would have been easier to swim than to put up with your plans. And I’m not leaving without my cards,” he said flatly.
Eric ran out to his uncle’s desk, checked the latitude and longitude of the ship, then hurried back and reported the readings to Highbridge. “While you make the call, I’ll get the cards,” he promised desperately. He closed the doors of the closet and of his bedroom, hurried through the suite, and went out into the corridor. He was about to go to the Meehans’ door and knock when he glanced down toward the elevator bank. They were just stepping off the elevator. He waited for them and to his vast relief he didn’t even have to ask about the cards.
“Oh, Eric,” Alvirah said, “we have your friend’s cards.”
Willy piped up. “Tell your buddy if he’s getting together a game, I’d love to join him.”
Eric’s palms were sweaty as he closed them around Bull’s-Eye’s cards. “Sure, sure, I’ll tell him. Thanks.” His eyes briefly registered the chocolate syrup stains covering the front of Willy’s shirt.
Willy laughed. “Don’t think I’m a slob. The waiter was being generous, but in my case he missed my bowl of ice cream when he was ladeling out the hot fudge sauce. I’m on my way to change.”
“Sorry about that,” Eric said, his grip on the cards so tight that they were cutting into his palm.
“See you at your grandmother’s ceremony,” Alvirah said as they continued down the corridor.
Eric waited until the Meehans were safely inside their stateroom. I need thirty seconds to get Bull’s-Eye and Highbridge to the crew companionway, he reasoned. It led directly down to the stern, where he had hidden the dinghy. It was risky using the stairs now, but even if they passed a crew member he would know better than to question Eric or anyone with him. Eric worried that Winston might be a problem—he used those stairs all the time to get down to his cabin and had a way of appearing out of nowhere.
Eric knew that he had to get Bull’s-Eye and Highbridge down to the open area on the lowest deck at the stern where nets, hooks, and assorted waterproof paraphernalia for the ship were stored. There was no concealed locker or closet, which was why he had not even considered hiding the two men there. But there was an overhang, which meant no one from the upper decks could see what was happening there from above. The risk was that someone would spot them when they threw the inflatable dinghy over the stern in broad daylight. Once the two men were in the dinghy, Eric had a canvas cover they could pull over themselves so that anyone who saw the dinghy would assume it was empty. But hopefully everyone would be at his grandmother’s ceremony.
Eric went back into the suite, strode to his room, and opened the door of his closet. He handed Bull’s-Eye the cards. “Let’s go,” he snapped, noticing that Bull’s-Eye had the briefcase he must have stolen and Highbridge was holding Eric’s duffel bag to which they’d obviously transferred the cash they’d given Eric and their clothing.
“Coming,” Bull’s-Eye snapped back.
By the grace of God, they made it to the crew companionway without running into anyone. What they didn’t know was that Alvirah’s ear was at the slightly opened door of her room. When she heard the Commodore’s door shut, she poked out her head just in time to see Eric and the two Santas disappear behind the unmarked door at the other end of the passageway. It was the door she had seen Winston use, and she was sure it was intended just for the crew.
Merciful heavens! she thought. That has to be Bull’s-Eye and the Santa I was chasing. Eric is hand-in-glove with them! I can’t waste a second. Willy’s in the shower, but if I take the time to tell him what’s up it’ll be too late and I’ll lose them. She bolted down the corridor as fast as her arthritic knees would permit, silently opened the door they’d gone through, and could hear their footsteps in the distance, echoing several decks below. She grabbed the railing as she hurried after them.
When she reached the bottom deck, there was a metal door to her left. She opened it a crack. A rubber dinghy was being inflated, and two men were strapping life jackets over their Santa suits.
I’ve got to get help, she thought. She turned and started up the stairs, but before she had gone six steps the door flew open behind her. She tried to run faster, but it was impossible to escape. She felt a strong hand clamp over her mouth, a muscled arm pull her back, and heard Eric say, “You’re not that good an amateur sleuth, Mrs. Meehan.”