Dark Passage

TEN

‘Alcohol is involved in at least 62.5 percent of on-board assaults with serious bodily injury, 35 percent of simple assaults, and 36 percent of sexual assaults. While this data suggests greater concern with responsible serving of alcohol and curtailing alcohol misuse, some cruise lines now offer ‘all you can drink’ packages at flat rates for the duration of a cruise. Bar sales is one of the top sources of on-board revenue for cruise ships.’

Testimony of Ross A. Klein, PhD before the Senate

Committee on Commerce, Science, and Transportation,

March 1, 2012

I spent a restless night. When I wasn’t stewing about David, I was fretting about Pia. When the first light of dawn finally came, I gave up on sleep. I padded to the bathroom, then stepped into a pair of jeans, wrestled a T-shirt on over my head, slid my feet into a pair of flip flops and slipped out of the room, leaving Ruth huddled under her duvet, gently snoring.

Breakfast wouldn’t be served until 6.30 a.m., but I knew that coffee and donuts were available in a corner of the Firebird café for the early birds – joggers, displaced spouses, and insomniacs like me – so I made my way up to deck nine. I filled a mug from the urn, stirred in some half and half and carried it over to a seat by the window where I could watch the water boil white around the hull as the liner sleeked its way through the sea. The Zen of it was calmly reassuring.

From the program I knew we’d be sighting Bermuda by mid-morning and docking at the port of Kings Landing shortly after noon. I hadn’t signed up for any excursions, and I was grateful for that now, as I didn’t intend to step foot ashore until I found out what had happened to Pia.

‘Hannah! I thought I might find you here.’

To my surprise, the speaker was Georgina, who rarely managed to make it out of bed before eight and never, to my knowledge, even ate breakfast. Her hair was twisted into an unruly knot at the crown of her head and held in place with a leopard-print claw clip. She carried a paper cup of coffee in one hand and a powdered donut in the other.

I grinned up at her. ‘So, who are you, and what have you done with my sister?’

Georgina snorted, then plopped herself down opposite me. She took an experimental bite of the donut, frowned, set it down on a napkin, then brushed powdered sugar off her dark blue T-shirt. ‘Julie’s still asleep, and I didn’t want to turn on the light, so I decided to wander up for some coffee.’

‘How was the movie last night, did Julie say?’

‘It was “fine,” the popcorn was “gross,” the girl she sat next to was “dumb,” and the idea of playing Charades was “lame, totally.” Believe it or not, Julie was back at the cabin by eleven. I was reading when she came in and I nearly fell out of my bunk.’ Georgina tore open a packet of demerara sugar and dumped it into her cup, stirred. ‘What gets you up so early? It’s not even six.’

‘Worried about Pia, I suppose. I’m sure that was blood I saw on her costume.’

‘I think so, too. Who can we ask, Hannah?’

I shrugged. ‘If she were injured, they must have taken her to the clinic. But I can’t exactly go down there and ask. Patient confidentiality and all that. I’m hoping she’ll show up as usual at the Oracle today.’

Georgina reached across the table and squeezed my hand. ‘I’m sure she’s fine, Hannah. She walked off the stage, after all.’

I managed a smile. ‘Don’t know why I’m being so mother-hennish. Pia reminds me a bit of Emily at that age, I suppose.’

‘Attractive, bright, idealistic and strong-headed, right?’

I grinned. ‘Get used to it, sweetie. It’s genetic.’

‘Speaking of Julie,’ Georgina said after a moment, ‘what are you planning to do today? She wants to hang out at the pool, but I’ve got an appointment at the day spa for a massage.’

‘Nothing definite,’ I replied. ‘Thought I’d go out on deck and take pictures as we sail into Bermuda. Do you need me to watch Julie?’

‘No, no. She’ll be fine. Just curious, that’s all. How about Ruth?’

‘No clue. We decided to talk about it over lunch. Will you be done by then?’

She nodded. ‘As relaxed and boneless as a rubber chicken. Let’s meet at the Oracle, then. Eleven-thirty?’

I nodded. ‘It’s a date.’

The Oracle was on deck four, so it was easy to reconnoiter on the way to our stateroom. On my third ever-so-casual pass, a steward I’d never seen before was working behind the bar. My heart sank into my shoes.

I consulted the young man’s name tag. ‘Prakash, I was looking for Pia. Will she be working today?’

Prakash wiped his hands on a towel and studied me thoughtfully. ‘I expect her to arrive sometime this morning, madam. Is there anything I can get for you in the meantime?’

I made a show of consulting my watch. ‘I need to check on my niece in a few minutes,’ I improvised. ‘Do you know when she’s scheduled to come on duty?’

‘I am so sorry, madam, but I do not. Until Pia comes, I stay.’ Prakash began scooping crushed ice into the wine coolers. I’d been dismissed.

I’d actually promised Georgina that I’d check in on Julie from time to time, so I decided to work off the Belgian waffle I’d splurged on at breakfast in the Firebird café by walking up the ten flights of stairs that would take me to the swimming pool area on deck nine. Julie was there, sitting on the edge of a hot tub, her legs dangling, enjoying the whirlpool with two girls about her age. I waved as I passed by, but didn’t embarrass my niece by actually speaking to her.

I spent the next half hour at the guest relations desk signing up for an Internet account, and the fifteen minutes after that recovering from sticker shock – sixty-five cents per minute! – over a four-dollar latte at Café Cino.

In the library on deck seven, I spent three dollars and twenty-five cents – five minutes – checking my iPhone for email which consisted of a birthday reminder for my sister-in-law, Connie, and a brief message from Paul saying he loved me and hoped I was having a good time.

I made a pit stop at our stateroom, where I found Ruth taking a shower following a Pilates workout in the fitness center. ‘Why you want to exercise on vacation is completely beyond me,’ I said as my sister emerged from the bathroom wearing nothing but a towel wrapped around her head like a turban. ‘I just stopped by to see what you were doing.’

‘There’s an acupuncture lecture at 11.00 a.m. I’ll be about fifteen minutes late for lunch, if that’s OK with you.’

I shrugged. ‘Fine. Nobody’s calling the roll.’

Ruth stared into the closet. ‘What on earth should I wear?’

‘To an acupuncture class? Something with teeny tiny holes in it, I imagine.’ Promising to let Ruth know the minute I found out anything about Pia, I left her to sort out her wardrobe and dress in peace.

Prakash was still tending the Oracle bar. He looked up suspiciously when I approached, so I simply smiled and ordered a split of the day’s special, something called Cair Blanc, and carried the glass over to a chair in the corner of the bar where I could keep an eye on the elevators.

Although billed as demi sec, the wine had too many apricot notes for my liking. From my chair, I surveyed the room, casting about for a potted palm to pour it into when the elevator doors opened and Pia stepped out.

Overcome with relief, I took a gulp of wine, grimaced then choked it down.

Pia limped across the lobby and slipped behind the bar. Prakash grinned, obviously relieved to see her. He made a production of handing over the towel he’d been using to wipe water rings off the bar, then left as if he had an important engagement elsewhere.

I left my glass on the table and approached the bar. ‘Pia, you were hurt during the show last night, weren’t you?’

She didn’t answer my question right away. ‘I saw you there, sitting in the second row.’

I nodded. ‘I thought the show was terrific, by the way, but after the basket trick, when I saw the blood…’

Pia raised both hands. ‘There was a little accident, a miscalculation. I’m fine, really.’

‘Did you see a doctor?’

‘Of course. Tom made me. He was terribly upset, of course. It was just a scratch, I told him, nothing to worry about, but they stitched it up anyway.’ She held up her hand, fingers splayed. ‘Five stitches! Imagine.’

‘I guess I thought they were trick swords. Clearly not.’

‘Oh, the swords are real all right!’

‘Or that you weren’t really in the basket.’

Pia laughed out loud. ‘No, I was actually in the basket. And Lorelei, too. There’s more room inside there than you might think.’

‘But how…’ I started to ask, then paused. ‘Sorry. I shouldn’t be asking you to give away secrets. Wouldn’t want you to break the magicians’ code and get blackballed or something.’

‘Magicians’ code? Don’t make me laugh. Nothing is secret anymore. You can read about how to do the illusions in any number of books, and a couple of years ago, there was even a Masked Magician on TV. “Magic’s Biggest Secrets Revealed.” ’ Pia drew quote marks in the air. ‘He wore this God-awful mask like Hannibal Lecter for the early episodes, but eventually you found out he was a magician named Val Valentino. Val’s not very popular among his fellow magicians these days, as you can well imagine.’

I decided to bring her back to the point. ‘But how did you get hurt?’

‘Most people assume that I’m just a bit of fluff, a helpless little tool for the magician, but really, I’m pretty much in charge of that trick. The swords are plunged into the basket in a particular order, so after each thrust, I have time to rearrange myself. Sometimes I even help the sword pass through.’

‘So what went wrong last night?’

Pia shook her head and shrugged. ‘We’ve done that trick hundreds of times before, but last night Tom had the swords in the wrong order.’ She touched her leg gingerly. ‘The second one nicked my thigh.’

‘You could have been killed! Or, Lorelei.’

‘Yeah, well… I probably shouldn’t be telling you this, but I’m worried about Tom. He hasn’t been himself lately. I even mentioned it to him. What’s wrong? I said. You seem preoccupied, but he just shrugged it off.’

Pia raised a finger – just a minute, I’ll be right back – and left me to serve a glass of wine to a customer. When she came back, she continued where she had left off. ‘He claims it’s because of this new illusion he’s working on. Checking the apparatus, practicing, getting the timing just right. He plans to debut the trick in a couple of weeks, but that’s not going to happen if he can’t get his act together.’ She paused and laughed sadly. ‘So to speak.’

‘Will you and Tom be working tonight?’

‘We’re off tonight, but we’ll be on again day after tomorrow. I should be fine.’ She shrugged. ‘If not, Lorelei can fill in and there just won’t be an extra girl in the basket.’

‘What does Lorelei do when she’s not scrunched down in a basket with you?’

‘She’s a blackjack dealer.’

I’d walked through the Vegas-style casino – almost impossible to miss as it occupied almost half of deck five – but I’d never seen a live blackjack player on duty. They seemed to have been replaced with ‘virtual’ dealers, video representations – sometimes guys, sometimes gals – that smiled creepily at you from large television screens, with no personality other than the one they’d been programmed with. Like avatars, they say hello and make comments, and their eyes follow you like haunted house characters as you walk by. ‘Glad to hear the dealers aren’t all robots,’ I said.

‘Do you play blackjack?’ Pia inquired.

‘No, but my husband does. He’s pretty good at it, too, but he claims that studying the game only helps you to lose more slowly.’

That made Pia laugh.

It was after eleven and the bar was filling up. ‘I should let you get back to work, Pia.’ I touched her lightly on the arm. ‘I’m glad you’re OK.’

‘Thanks. Can I get you something to drink?’

I waved the offer away. ‘Thanks, but no. I’ve got to meet my sisters for lunch.’

After I left the Oracle, I rode the elevator up to the swimming pool deck, where I paused for a moment at the splash pool to watch in amusement as dozens of squealing, giggling children dashed crazily about, trying to avoid – or not – the water jets that erupted unpredictably around them. Buck Carney, the photographer we’d met earlier in the solarium, knelt on one knee at poolside, capturing their antics on film, seemingly oblivious to the spray that was soaking his shorts.

Julie was no longer in the hot tub, but I spotted her seated at a table near the Tiki Hut Beach Bar with a group of her friends. I thought I recognized some of the boys from the Crawford contingent, but as I drew nearer they beat a hasty retreat, leaving Julie alone with two of the girls I’d seen her with earlier.

Julie grinned when she saw me, set the glass she was drinking from down on the edge of the table where it teetered precariously for a moment, then crashed to the deck in a shower of crushed ice, orange slices and pineapple. She pressed a hand to her mouth. ‘Oooops!’

Her companions stared, wide-eyed and innocent as fawns caught in the headlights.

It took a moment for the situation to sink in. ‘Julie Lynn, what have you been drinking?’

Julie flushed. ‘Dunno.’

Julie’s girlfriends shot to their feet, no doubt planning a quick getaway before things turned ugly. I grabbed the freckled blonde by the arm, bringing her up short. ‘What’s Julie been drinking?’

The girl glanced nervously at Julie, then back at me before stammering, ‘Sex on the Beach.’

‘Sex on the Beach,’ I repeated, just to make sure I’d heard it correctly. ‘Sex. On. The. Beach.’ Vodka, I recalled. Peach schnapps. A touch of cranberry juice. From the number of empty glasses on the table, quite a few Sex on the Beaches had been consumed at that table, and nobody sitting there now was anywhere near the age of twenty-one.

The blonde was rapidly shaking her head. ‘But we didn’t… I mean, it wasn’t me!’

Although frightened, she seemed perfectly sober, which was more than I could say for Julie, who slouched in her chair, grinning crookedly. When I scowled at her, Julie began to giggle.

I released the girl’s arm, said, ‘You two, get out of here,’ and aimed a cold stone glare at my niece. ‘Julie Lynn Cardinale, what the hell were you thinking?’

Still smiling, Julie shrugged. ‘Tasted really good, Aunt Hannah.’

‘Get up!’ I ordered.

Julie rose unsteadily to her feet, supporting herself by resting a hand on the table.

‘How many of those did you drink?’ I asked, indicating the debris remaining at the scene of the crime.

‘Dunno.’

I seized Julie’s face by the chin and forced her to look at me. ‘How many?’

I’d frightened her now. A tear slid down her cheek. ‘Two, maybe three?’

‘Come with me!’ Holding my niece firmly by the upper arm, I dragged Julie over to the Tiki Bar where Beshad and another bartender whose name tag was hidden by a towel draped over his shoulder were mixing drinks. Rage boiled up inside of me and exploded in the bartender’s face. ‘Beshad, how old does this girl look to you?’

Beshad started, stared, eyes wide. ‘Excuse me?’

‘Somebody has been serving this child alcoholic drinks, and for your sake, I hope it wasn’t you.’

‘I just came on at eleven,’ he stammered. He shot a nervous glance at the other bartender. ‘But, ma’am, there’s no way we would allow someone your daughter’s age to buy alcohol. She’d have to show her sea pass to pay for it, and then we’d know she was underage.’

I stood there, slack-mouthed, letting the truth of what he’d told me sink in. I confronted my niece. ‘Julie, who bought those drinks for you?’

Another tear leaked out of her eye; she swiped it away with her free hand. I felt her shrug. ‘Some boys.’

‘Boys,’ I repeated. ‘You mean those boys who hightailed it out of here just before I showed up?’

She nodded.

I dragged Julie over to a chair and helped her sit down. ‘If they were buying you drinks from the Tiki Hut, Julie, they were not boys. They were men.’

‘I knoooow,’ she sniffled miserably.

‘Were they from that Crawford family, Julie? Jason and whatshisname, Colin?’

She shook her head, ponytail wagging. ‘Nuh, no. Not Connor,’ she sobbed, but she was staring out to sea when she said it, so I suspected she was lying. After a moment, she turned a tear-stained face to mine. ‘Are you going to tell Mom?’

‘Of course I’m going to tell your mother!’

‘She’s going to be so mad. She’ll tell Dad and I’ll be grounded for the rest of my life!’

‘Everybody makes mistakes, Julie Lynn, but smart people learn by them.’

‘Aunt Hannah?’ Julie whimpered. ‘I think I’m going to barf!’ Her eyes were wide and frightened; she pressed a hand against her mouth.

With me holding on to her arm, we reached the rail with only seconds to spare. Julie leaned over it, spewing her breakfast and what remained of the drinks she had consumed all over one of the lifeboats that was tethered several decks below.

There is nothing quite so pathetic as a sick child. Until the dry heaves passed, I held Julie close, stroking her hair.

‘Seasick?’ someone asked, passing behind us.

‘You could say that,’ I replied.

Several minutes later I escorted Julie back to her cabin, sat with her until she drank an entire bottle of water, then tucked her into bed to sleep it off.