Haunted Destiny (17 page)

He was equally frustrated and angry, Alexi realized. But when she thought that he'd blow up again, he went silent.

“Stay there!” he snapped.

“Hey!” she protested as he walked down the hall.

It was a very long hallway. He walked the entire distance; she could see him retreating, and then coming back, eventually striding in the opposite direction, all the way to the stern.

He returned, looking perplexed.

Before she could say anything, he pulled out a black box that had to be a walkie-talkie. It was. He sounded terse as he spoke to someone, presumably Jackson, on the other end.

“I'm telling you, there's no one down here,” he said. “I've been up and down the length of the ship.” He listened to whatever Jackson was saying.

Then he turned to her. “You want to get out of the cabin? Fine, let's go pick up Clara. You two can play bingo.”

“Bingo?”
she said with dismay.

“And keep an eye on Jensen Hardy while you're there.”

“Really?” Alexi demanded. “If Jensen's leading a bingo game, I imagine an awful lot of people will have their eyes on him.”

“Alexi, damn it, will you just play bingo?”

She crossed her arms. “Do you realize, Jude, that I know all these people better than you do? And that if they need to be drawn out, if someone needs to speak with them, it should be me?”

He lowered his head and she guessed he was fighting for control. Either that, or maybe he was actually considering her words.

He looked at her again. “Alexi, I have no idea where the security man is, the guy who was supposed to be watching this floor. If he's disappeared...”

“Could he be in the men's room?”

“Then he would've reappeared by now, don't you think?”

“Check the hall again,” she suggested.

He stepped back outside; she did, too.

It was easy to see forward.

And aft.

And, as he'd said, there was no one.

“Hold on a minute,” he told her.

As she watched, he knocked on Ralph Martini's door. A minute later Ralph answered sleepily, still wearing his robe.

“Yeah?” he asked, puzzled.

“Just making sure you're okay,” Jude said.

“I was. I was sleeping,” Ralph said. He frowned. “Anything new? Anything with the storm?”

“We'll be battening down soon,” Jude said. “That's all.”

“Keep us informed, huh?”

“Absolutely,” Jude promised. “Is Larry in there with you?”

“No, he's in his own room,” Ralph said. “He's fine. He, uh, left here a little while ago.”

Alexi waved to Ralph, who rolled his eyes and smiled. Apparently, he—and the others—knew exactly where Jude was sleeping.

Jude went on, knocking at select doors. Simon Green was next, and he seemed perfectly okay. He was playing show tunes on an iPod or other sound system; “
Oklahoma!”
sounded from his cabin as he opened his door. Alexi saw him nod, then go back inside.

It took Larry a few minutes to come to his door. He must've been in the shower, since he was draped in a towel. Larry seemed bewildered, but in the end, he, too, nodded—and seemed to appreciate Jude's visit.

Jude returned to Alexi's door and said, “Let's go get Clara. Will the two of you play bingo? Please?” he added quietly. “I know you'll be safe while you're in a crowd—and that way you can observe Hardy for us, too.”

“All right, all right,” she said, feeling aggrieved. “Bingo. Great.”

They went over to Clara's cabin and tapped on her door. She threw it open, saying, “I checked. I checked the peephole. I knew the two of you were the ones at the door.”

“Excellent,” Jude said.

“He wants us to play
bingo
,” Alexi told her.

“Oh,” Clara responded, looking from Alexi to Jude. She grimaced. “We're not actually allowed to play bingo. Ship's rules.”

She hadn't known that, since the question had never come up for her. She wasn't much of a gambler, period. The only time she'd ever played bingo was at a church charity.

“There!” Alexi smiled at Jude, relieved. “We can't play bingo.”

“Yes, you can, when a ship's executive says he's sending you in to help out with passenger entertainment due to the storm,” he said pleasantly.

Alexi realized she was going to play bingo, whether she liked it or not. And she didn't.

“Bingo. Can't wait,” she said with a sigh of resignation.

They took the elevator up to the ballroom, where a large crowd had gathered. Shelly Moore, one of Jensen's crew, was assisting him, but she seemed a little overwhelmed.

Jensen was speaking to the group, some ready to play, and some still in line buying cards.

“We'll be going for a straight line down the middle this time around,” he announced. “Remember, not just any old bingo—a straight line down the center. Now, this is the Celtic American line, the
Destiny
!
” he said. “If we don't make our stop in Belize, everyone on the ship will be getting a free cruise to replace this one, even though we're not responsible for acts of God. That's the Celtic American way! But whoever wins this game gets an upgrade to a suite on their next voyage!”

He stopped speaking, aware that Jude, Clara and Alexi had entered the ballroom. He looked at the three of them with annoyance.

Jude walked between the rows of tables to reach Jensen first. “I've brought a couple of the entertainers to help out.”

“Clara and Alexi?” Jensen asked warily.

“Yes.”

“You're, uh, leaving the two of them with me?”

“Yes.”

“And you...”

“I have other business,” Jude said.

“Oh.” Jensen's expression was blank at first. Then he grinned. “I can certainly use the help. I have my other people running around, going from cabin to cabin with news sheets for the passengers. Everything's topsy-turvy because of the storm.”

“Of course. And Celtic American understands,” Jude said agreeably.

“Can one of you give me a hand with the game sheet sales and the other one check the winners, confirm that the cards match the letters?”

“I'll do sales,” Clara said.

“I guess I'm the checker,” Alexi chimed in.

“See you all after bingo,” Jude told them.

She watched as he left. He definitely had his sea legs.

And that was impressive because the
Destiny
was rolling even more heavily than it had been before.

* * *

Jude got hold of Jackson as he walked down the hall, taking the stairs to the higher decks.

There was something very wrong with the fact that their assigned security guard wasn't on duty in the employee sector—where one of their three suspects and at least two potential victims were staying.

“I'll talk to David Beach and we'll start a search,” Jackson said.

“I have a bad feeling about this.”

“Yeah, I do, too,” Jackson said. “Over and out.”

“Over and out.”

Jude shut down his walkie-talkie.

He wasn't sure how to separate Roger and Lorna Antrim, since he needed to speak with Lorna alone. He'd try their cabin first, see what kind of arrangement he could make.

Cabin? Suite!

When he knocked on the door, Roger answered. “Mr. McCoy.”

“It's Jude, please.”

“Jude. Come on in. Have you seen a salon like this? Oh, but you must have, being with Celtic American.”

“Actually, I've never seen this particular salon,” Jude said politely.

It was one hell of a salon.

Roger, dapper in a velvet-and-silk dressing gown, his gray hair still damp from the shower, made a sweeping gesture and gave him a tour of the lower level. “Piano here—hey, it would be fun to get Alexi Cromwell up here for a private party sometime, huh? Anyway, mini-kitchen there, meeting room in there, parlor area, games table—and all that balcony space over there is mine. Two bedrooms upstairs.”

Jude could hardly imagine what accommodations like this would cost on a ship.

“Very nice,” Jude murmured. “We're delighted that you're pleased with it.”

“There aren't many ships as grand as this,” Roger said. “With such old-world elegance. The
Destiny
is a special ship, indeed. We've always loved sailing on her. Well, except for this trip, but that's not the ship's fault, eh? No one can predict nature. Other than Lorna being so sick, I rather like the fact that nature is still stronger than any of us—any politician, any government, even our most advanced technology.”

“That's nature, all right,” Jude said. “How is Lorna? Is she in bed?”

“She was awake when I was in the shower. Let me go see if she's up. She'll be happy that you've stopped by.”

Roger ran up the stairs to the bedrooms on the upper level.

A minute later he came back downstairs, frowning.

“She's not up there, but I never saw her go out.”

“Maybe she was feeling poorly and went back to the infirmary. Listen, I'll head out and find her. I'll keep in touch.”

“I should be looking for her, too,” Roger said worriedly.

“Why don't you stay here? I'll inform security and we'll search for her. You wait here—be here if she comes back.”

Roger didn't seem too pleased with that idea, but he agreed. “I'll get some clothes on. I can at least keep watch out in the hallway.”

Jude nodded and pulled out the walkie-talkie to reach Jackson again. Jackson told him he'd alert Beach and his staff.

Jude went to the infirmary first, but she wasn't there and hadn't been in that morning.

When he left, there was a nurse standing outside. For a moment her appearance didn't register with Jude; he was so focused on finding Lorna.

His heart was pounding. He didn't like this one bit. A security man gone, disappeared.

And now...

Lorna Antrim was missing.

As the nurse approached him, his mind suddenly clicked into gear.

Dead. Dead nurse. Barbara Leon, from the historic infirmary that was no longer used in its old capacity but maintained as a museum.

“Agent!” Nurse Leon called to him.

“Miss Leon.”

“You're looking for Mrs. Antrim?”

He didn't understand how a ghost from a distant past could know that, but he didn't ask.

“Yes.”

“Schooner Bar, just down the way,” she said, bustling forward to show him.

There weren't many people out, although as of now, the shops, bars and the casino were still open.

Once Barbara Leon had led him to the Schooner, she simply faded away.

But she'd been right.

Lorna was seated at the bar, sipping a blue-colored drink.

Jude quickly called Jackson on his walkie-talkie to tell him she'd been found; Jackson said he'd get one of the security men to tell Roger.

“Hi,” Jude said, taking the chair beside hers. “If you're still feeling seasick, that might not be the best thing for you at the moment.” He pointed to her glass.

She smiled at him. “Should be straight scotch, huh?”

“You're feeling better?”

“I'm trying to feel like a man,” she said.

“A man?”

“I'm not all that seasick, I've discovered. I'm...old-age sick, heartsick and maybe even angry sick. So, I want to see what it's like just to take off and drink—oh, and find a good-looking, unattached man about my age with whom I'd like to flirt.”

“Ah.” Jude couldn't quite figure out
what
to say to that.

She studied him, an attractive woman, he thought, at any age. She had a great smile. “Mr. McCoy, a storm is raging. Who knows? We may not even make it back to port. Then again, this is my third drink. I suppose that's why I'm speaking frankly to you. Besides,” she said, still studying him intently. “You seem like a tough man. I would've said law enforcement if I didn't know you worked for the cruise line. But under that tough exterior, you're damned decent. So, what the hell.”

She wasn't making much sense, and yet he understood what she meant.

“You think your husband is cheating on you?”

“What I
know
is that
he disappears a lot,” she said. “The day of the explosion, I was supposed to meet him at a bar in Cozumel—and I find him with a lovely woman. A woman from the ship. They were just talking...but how do I know what's really going on?” She was quiet for a minute. “He went wandering while I was out shopping. We agreed to meet at the bar, so he knew I was coming. And he introduced me to her, of course. We all sat and chatted and...then there was the explosion. We weren't at the restaurant, but we could see the chaos. Roger told us both to get safely back to the ship. He said he was going to see if he could help. Then he was gone. And when I finally found him again, it was on the ship. At a bar. With—with that same woman. Flora Winters.”

“It may not mean he's cheating on you,” Jude said.

It may mean that he's a killer, that he set the explosion.

But if so...why?

It bothered him not to have spoken to Capitan Suarez in nearly two days.

He didn't know if they'd found anything in any of their churches!

“I realize that,” Lorna said, raising her glass to him. “May I buy you a drink, Mr. McCoy?”

“I'd love a glass of water.”

“Of course. You're not the kind who'd drink on the job, are you?” she asked. “You want your attention completely focused.”

“I also happen to like water,” he told her, smiling.

So, her husband could have rigged the explosion at the restaurant. He hadn't been with her; he might've been anywhere.

But he could just be a man with a wandering eye.