Frank jumped up from the table and darted toward the stairs. Joe was close behind him. As they zoomed down the steps, Frank saw one of the crew running along the corridor. The door to David’s cabin was open wide. The crew member started inside.
“Wha—” he yelled. His feet flew out from under him. He landed flat on his back with a crash that shook the deck.
Frank stopped and held out his arm to warn Joe. They approached the doorway slowly and cautiously.
David was sitting on the floor of the cabin, just inside the door. He had a blue-and-white marble in his hand. Frank saw dozens more marbles scattered across the polished planks.
The crew member sat up. Frank recognized him. He had handled the mooring line during their departure the day before. “Woo!” he said, rubbing the back of his head. “What hit me?”
“You slipped on a marble,” David told him. “Sorry about that, ah—what was your name again?”
“Chuck . . . Chuck Arneson,” the guy replied. “We’d better pick these up before somebody cracks their skull. How’d they spill anyway?”
“I can make a pretty good guess,” David said. He got to his feet and massaged his hip.
From behind Frank and Joe, a tiny voice said, “Daddy? I have something to tell you.”
David sighed. “Yes, Evan? What is it?”
Evan slipped past Frank and Joe. “Well . . . I heard you and Frank and Joe talking about robbers,” he said. “And I was afraid a bad guy would come in our room. So I put my marbles on the floor to make him fall.”
“It worked,” David said with grim humor.
“I would have told you,” Evan continued. “But I didn’t know where you were. And then I went up to breakfast and I sort of forgot. I’m sorry. Are you okay?”
“I’m fine,” David said. He reached over and tousled his son’s hair. “But next time, check with me before you set any traps for bad guys. Okay?”
Evan grinned with relief. “You bet!”
Frank and Joe helped pick up the marbles. Then they returned to the salon with David and Evan. David carried an envelope in his hand. The room fell silent as they went in.
“I’ve looked over your solutions to last night’s crime,” David announced. “They are all worthy tries. I’m going to post them on the bulletin board next to the stairs for you to read. Then, in ten or fifteen minutes, we’ll come together again to talk about the results.”
The five finalists barely waited for David to tack up the entries before they clustered around to read them. Meanwhile, Lisa cornered Joe. She wanted to know what the commotion had been about earlier. He told her about Evan’s marbles. She asked for a preview of the scores in the contest. Joe admitted he had no idea.
Lisa wanted his general reactions to the voyage so far. Joe talked about the boat, the sea, the weather, and the great group of contestants. He aimed his words at Lisa’s tape recorder. In his head, however, he was focused on the mystery of the intruder from the night before. Finally he muttered an excuse and went to look for Frank. He found him on the afterdeck.
“Notice anything?” Frank murmured. “No anguished cries from anyone whose entry was altered.”
“So either nothing was changed or our visitor last night came to touch up his own entry,” Joe replied.
Frank nodded. “That’s what it looks like. Unless . . . I can’t stop thinking we were meant to notice that someone had fiddled with the entries. But why?”
Joe had the feeling an answer to Frank’s question was lurking just out of sight. Suddenly he snapped his fingers. “How about this? One of the contestants was sure he’d messed up. So he decided to push us into throwing out the results. That way his poor showing wouldn’t hurt him. Or her, of course.”
“That fits,” Frank said slowly. “The funny part is, from what David said, everybody did about the same. So breaking into our cabin was wasted effort.”
“But whoever did it couldn’t have known that.” Joe glanced inside. “Speaking of David, it looks like he’s ready to start.”
Joe and Frank returned to the salon. David gave them a nod and a smile. Then he said, “The setup last night was meant to suggest that one of the crew, an engineer, interrupted a burglar who killed him to stop him from raising an alarm. That was a false trail. None of you fell for it.”
“The knot was toward the front,” Boris said. “The victim must have been facing his attacker. How do you get a cord around somebody’s neck from the front unless he knows you?”
“And the gun,” Sylvie said. “If I were the criminal and somebody discovered me, I would shoot him. I would not hope to find a piece of electrical cord to strangle him with.”
Joe was tempted to point out that guns make more noise than strangling cords. He restrained himself. This was David’s show.
“A quarrel among thieves,” Cesar remarked. “But what about the ransom note? I spotted it under the chair. It offered to return the bonds for a quarter of a million dollars. Why would thieves do that?”
“Maybe the bonds are too hard to cash,” Jason suggested. “You know—like counterfeiters who sell their phony bills for a few cents on the dollar.”
“Cesar is the only one who mentioned the ransom note,” David announced. “There’s another detail none of you picked up on—the victim’s hands.”
“What about them?” Sylvie asked, puzzled.
“Wait, wait!” Cesar shouted. He slapped the table. “Of course! The hands were clean, and the nails were manicured. That was no engineer. An engineer would have oily hands and cracked nails. I bet that was the owner of the yacht. He was planning to steal his own bonds, then rip off the insurance company for the ransom! He probably gave the crew the evening off, to get them out of the way. But one of them suspected something and stayed behind.”
“Bravo, Cesar,” David said. “You got it.”
“Yeah,” Cesar groaned. “I got it today—but not last night, when it would have done me some good.”
“Then the killer was the real engineer, right?” Boris asked. “He changed clothes with the victim to confuse the authorities while he made his escape.”
“He certainly confused me.” Sylvie laughed.
A general discussion broke out. Joe and Frank joined in. So did Lisa and even Kenneth. The only one who kept out of it was Elizabeth. Her expression and body language said she found the whole business childish. Joe wondered why she had entered the contest if that was how she felt. Here was still another puzzle to be solved.
• • •
The second part of the detective contest took place toward the end of the morning. It was a test of observational skills. Everyone gathered around the TV to watch a tape.
Like the contestants, Frank and Joe watched intently. On the screen, a man and two women met on a street corner. They chatted for a few moments. Two other men approached from opposite directions. One of them bumped into the woman on the left. He muttered an apology and walked away.
A moment later the woman he had collided with groped in her purse and let out a shriek. The man who was talking with her ran after the one who had bumped her. At that, the tape ended.
David stood up and passed out questionnaires to the contestants. “Okay,” he said. “No conversation until all of you have finished your responses.”
Joe took a spare questionnaire from David and gave it a shot. It was not easy. The questions included the clothing and personal appearance of all five people in the scene, what each had said, and exactly what had happened.
David collected the completed questionnaires and put them in a manila envelope. “Okay—any remarks?”
“This is kid stuff,” Elizabeth said. “I’m not saying I remembered all those stupid details. Who could? But the important part was simply babyish.”
“Wa-a-ah!” Cesar said with a grin. Elizabeth sniffed loudly and looked in the other direction.
“The important part being . . . ?” David asked, looking around the circle.
“The guy stole her wallet when he shoved her,” Jason said. “That’s an old stunt. Some dude tried it on me once when I was getting off a bus. I gave him a swift elbow below the belt. Boy, did he look surprised.”
“What do you think happened after the tape ended?” David asked.
Boris shrugged. “The other guy—the woman’s friend—probably caught him. He was pretty fast off the mark.”
“And then?” David continued.
“The police put the pickpocket in jail,” Sylvie said.
“Maybe it works that way in Canada,” Cesar said. “My bet is he got himself a terrific lawyer and walked.”
“So, Sylvie, you think the perpetrator was arrested. What about the rest of you? Everybody agree?” David asked, giving another look around the circle. The contestants nodded.
“Joe? Frank?” David added.
“Well . . .” Frank said. He glanced over at Joe, who gave him a grin. “Tell them.”
“Even if the pickpocket got caught,” Joe said, “I doubt if the cops could arrest him. No evidence.”
“What about the wallet?” Elizabeth demanded. “Even if he threw it down on the sidewalk, it would still tell against him.”
“He didn’t have the wallet,” Frank said. “Right after he took it, he passed it to his accomplice, who strolled off in the other direction. Right, David?”
“I knew there was something about that other guy,” Cesar said. He slapped his palm against his forehead.
“You tricked us!” Elizabeth declared crossly.
David smiled. “Good,” he said. “I was hoping to. Just remember, the bad guys aren’t out to make it easy for crime solvers.”
• • •
Lunch was assorted sandwiches and chips, served on the afterdeck. No one would have wanted to stay inside and miss the view. The Colombe d’Or was approaching its next port of call. Ahead, a green island loomed up out of the blue sea. Frank thought its steep slopes and peak looked like a child’s drawing of a volcano.
David confirmed this. “That’s Mount Orange,” he told the group. “It’s still active. The last major eruption was about fifty years ago. It buried one of the towns on the island under superheated gas and ash. Over ten thousand people died.”
Sylvie shivered. “That’s terrible! What if it explodes while we are there?”
“There’s usually some warning before a big eruption,” Frank assured her, “Sort of like clearing your throat before you sing.”
“In any case,” David added, “we’ll dock at Fort William. The volcano has never touched it. The town that was destroyed was on the opposite side of the island. If we had more time, we could go over and explore the ruins.”
“Spooky-y-y,” Cesar said in a hollow voice. He waved his open hands in Sylvie’s direction.
“Ooo, don’t!” Sylvie exclaimed. Cesar grinned.
“Let her alone,” Boris said gruffly.
“Yeah, stop playing the clown,” Jason added.
Cesar’s grin flickered. “At least I know when I act like a clown,” he retorted. “Unlike some people I could name who don’t know it and can’t help it.”
Sylvie smiled at him. “It’s all right, Cesar,” she said. “I know you were just trying to be funny. I think you’re cute.”
Cesar beamed. Frank glanced at Jason and Boris. Both were trying to look unconcerned.
“How long will we be stuck on this island?” Elizabeth asked in a bored voice. “Is there anything to do on it?”
“The old part of the city is very picturesque,” David replied. “I like to just wander. There are also some very elegant boutiques and shops around the square.”
Elizabeth’s face brightened.
The boat docked alongside a palm-lined boulevard. Nearby, Frank spotted the colorful umbrellas of an outdoor café. From the harbor, the old town rose in level after level of white-stone buildings with lacy iron balconies and red-tile roofs. The green slopes of Mount Orange supplied a lush backdrop.
Frank and Joe stood at the rail admiring the view. “Do you think they have a college here?” Joe wondered out loud. “I could handle four years in a place like this.”
“Huh,” Frank replied. “You’d probably spend your four years lying on the beach waiting for a nice ripe guava to plop into your mouth.”
Joe smiled. “You could do worse. But I like mangoes better.” He lowered his voice and added, “We should try to keep an eye on everyone while we’re ashore this afternoon. Why don’t I concentrate on Sylvie? That was her perfume in our room last night.”
“Good idea,” Frank said. “And I’ll watch Elizabeth. There’s something I don’t get about her attitude.”
“Attitude’s the word,” Joe said, rolling his eyes. “That girl is nothing but attitude!”
As the teens left the boat, David warned them to be back by four o’clock. “Have a great time,” he added. “If you need to get in touch, you have the telephone number here. Bettina and I will both be on board.”
The group stayed together just long enough to reach the first corner. Sylvie eyed the narrow cobbled street that twisted its way uphill under lines hung with brightly colored wash.
“Let’s go this way,” she eagerly urged. “I bet we’ll find some awesome views up the hill.”
Elizabeth sniffed. “A slum’s a slum,” she said. “Even in the Caribbean. I’d rather find the square and check out the shops.”
“Okay. Have fun,” Sylvie said with a touch of sarcasm in her tone. She started up the little street. After a moment’s hesitation the others followed. Only Frank stayed behind. Elizabeth bit her lower lip as she watched the group walk away. Then she tossed her blond hair in a way that was meant to say, “Why should I care about them?”
“I detest sight-seeing,” Elizabeth told Frank. “It’s so boring. Our place in Virginia is just a mile from a Civil War battleground. One of my daddy’s relatives commanded a battalion there. But I’ve never visited. I can’t stand all those noisy, smelly charter buses. And the people with their camcorders! Sometimes they walk right up to our house and take each other’s pictures on our front porch. Can you imagine?”
Frank started to say, “Maybe you should charge admission.” He thought better of it.
Elizabeth didn’t notice. “I really thought there would be more people like me on this cruise. After all, a yacht in the Caribbean . . . I didn’t stop to think that a magazine like Teenway has to appeal to a pretty mixed bag. I do wish the others didn’t resent me for my advantages, though. I can’t help who I am or who my ancestors were, can I?”
Frank was tempted to say that she might try not acting so stuck-up. He decided to keep his mouth shut. After all, he was a detective, not an advice columnist.
• • •
By three-thirty Joe was ready to bang his head against a wall. While sticking close to Sylvie, he was also trying to keep track of everyone else in his group. But how could he? All afternoon they kept wandering off, hanging back, dawdling in shops, hurrying ahead. It was as if they had all secretly decided to drive him bonkers!
Now he was in a tiny square where five alleys—they were too narrow to be called streets—met. Against one of the house walls, a stone fountain burbled. Cesar held his cupped hands under the stream of water.
“Don’t drink that,” Sylvie warned. “You might catch something.”
Instead of drinking, Cesar poured the water over his head. “Ah! That’s better,” he said. He looked around. “Where is everybody?”
“Off,” Sylvie replied with a vague wave of the hand. “It’s late. We should get back to the yacht.”
“How? Jason’s the only one who can find his way around this place,” Cesar said. “He’s amazing.”
As if summoned, Jason appeared. “We’re late,” he said. He pointed down one of the alleys. To Joe it looked no different from the others. “That should be the shortest way back.”
As they walked downhill, the others joined them. Soon they emerged from the clustered houses at the seafront boulevard, just across from where the yacht was moored. At that moment Frank and Elizabeth came along. Elizabeth was carrying a shopping bag with the linked initials of a famous French designer. Joe caught Frank’s eye. Frank shrugged.
The group started across the boulevard. Suddenly four motorbikes sped out of a side street and cut right in front of them. Each motorbike had a big metal box on the back, emblazoned with the words “All-Island Pizza. We D-liver, You D-light.” The riders halted next to the gangplank of the Colombe d’Or.
“Hey, hey, hey,” Boris said. “Looks like we eat pizza tonight. That’s a nice surprise.”
The four riders took stacks of cardboard boxes from the carriers and started toward the boat. A man in a double-breasted white chef’s jacket met them and kept them from going aboard.
“NO!” he shouted as the teens drew closer. “No one ordered pizzas. If we want pizza, I make pizza!”
“Somebody ordered fifteen pies,” one of the riders insisted. He held out a slip of paper. “Here, see? The name of the boat, fifteen pies, plain, mushrooms, extra cheese . . . it’s all here.”
“It must be a joke,” the chef said. “I tell you, we did not order pizza.”
“Some joke! What do we do with fifteen pies?” the deliveryman demanded.
From the upper deck, Bettina said, “It’s all right. We’ll accept them. Arnie, pay him—and be sure to include a generous tip.”
“Yes, ma’am,” the chef said in a grumpy tone.
“The prankster strikes again,” Joe murmured to Frank. “We’d better—”
Nearby, voices were suddenly raised. “Come on, admit it!” Jason said to Boris. “I saw you sneak into that shop and make a phone call. And I overheard you say the name of the yacht.”
“Big deal,” Boris said. “That proves nothing.”
Jason stuck out his chin. “You want proof? I heard more than that. I heard you when you said mushrooms and cheese!”