The Deadly Ackee Page 20

  As the yacht rocked gently under their feet, Theo, Dorrie, and Sandy began to ease open doors and peer into the dark staterooms. Tunnels of dull reddish light streamed through the portholes, allowing them to ascertain the vacancy factor, which seemed to be a tidy one hundred percent.

  “This is the dining room,” Sandy whispered. “The galley’s beyond it, but I can’t believe Mary Margaret would be there. She’s not in any of the staterooms. Maybe your theory was crazy, after all.”

  “My theory?” Dorrie hissed. “It was your theory, buddy. Uncle Theo and I just came along to be polite.” She put down her golf club in order to fold her arms arid stare at him. “You were the one who knew how to find the yacht and how to creep aboard like a wharf rat. You and Biff seem to feel you know everything, as if the two of you have a direct line to God. But you’re just little boys, snickering over Mary Margaret’s boobs and taking silly little pictures out the window. Did you punch each other on the shoulder while you giggled and goggled?”

  Theo looked down at the golf club, which threatened to slide down the wall and hit him on the foot. In a metaphorical sense, it did. Taking Dorrie’s arm, he tugged her backward. “Let’s save the vituperation for another time, my dear. Sandy is not responsible for Biff’s conduct in the minor issue of his choice of models. Mary Margaret is not here, so we really ought to leave before a security guard comes to investigate.”

  “Minor?” she said, her lip curled and her eyes glittering. “Biff gave me a locket, Uncle Theo, and intends to give me an engagement ring as soon as he inherits money from some comatose old aunt in Boston. We’ve spent entire afternoons together in Tiffany’s. He is supposedly above pubescent, slobbery voyeurism now that we’re practically engaged.”

  “Of course, of course,” Theo said. He tugged at her arm again, but it was much like trying to nudge a mountain into motion. “But there’s no reason to rail at Sandy. Let’s return to the villa; you can awaken Biff and rail at him for the rest of the night, if you so desire.”

  “I am no longer speaking to him. I do not rail at anyone, including servants, children, and shopkeepers. It is unforgivable to be rude to those less fortunate or in less desirable circumstances.”

  “Indeed, my dear. Shall we leave now?”

  Eyeing her with trepidation, Sandy picked up her golf club and handed it to her. “Are we going to call it a night and split? Your theory was reasonable; it just didn’t pan out. As they say here, no problem.”

  The Caldicott jaw inched out. “The theory was more than reasonable, Sandy. I would like to point out that we have not yet searched the storage rooms or the facilities below this deck. The theory may be proven correct. Now, which way do we go?”

  Theo wondered if they had a problem—a very big problem—but he could see no way to extricate his niece without literally jerking her down the corridor to the door that led to the deck. Somehow, it was Biff’s fault, he thought grimly as he followed the two through the dining room and galley. Had Biff kept his camera aimed in the proper direction, Dorrie would not be in such a mood. Her moods were written in stone.

  They reached another door. “This is a pantry,” Sandy said. “It’s locked, though—I guess to keep the crew out of the booze. It’s stuffy in here; I could go for a cold brewski right now. Too bad the door’s locked.”

  “Uncle Theo can open it.”

  Theo gave her an exasperated look. “My dear, we’re operating under the premise that Mary Margaret came here willingly, as a conspirator in this ransom business. She would hardly lock herself in a cramped little storage room. I truly think we should leave before we’re arrested for trespassing or burglary.”

  “I am not going to be dragged all the way down to this yacht and then not make a proper search, Uncle Theo. What if she’s in there, tied up or drugged—or worse? We’d feel pretty silly, wouldn’t we? You’ve already unlocked Eli’s door, the gate at the villa, and the gate at the marina. I fail to see why you’re being so mulish about one more teeny little lock.”

  Cursing Biff’s perfidy under his breath, Theo took the metal strip from his pocket and moved toward the door. Sandy suddenly flinched, then peered over Theo’s shoulder at the galley.

  “I think I heard something, sir,” he said, frowning. “And the boat seemed to rock as if someone had come aboard. Do you think I ought to investigate?”

  “Oh, stop dithering and go see who it is,” Dorrie snapped.

  “It might be a good idea,” Theo said, still intent on the pantry lock. “If it’s a policeman, tell him we’ll be there in a minute or two.”

  Sandy tiptoed through the galley and around a corner. Dorrie began to hum, although to Theo it sounded more like the drone of a hornet than a melody. He inserted the metal strip in the lock and twisted it, allowing his fingertips to sense the ridges of the tumblers. Whoever selected the lock had spared no expense to keep the crew out of the caviar, he thought testily.

  “What is taking so long?” Dorrie said.

  “It’s a delicate procedure. By the way, there’s something you need to be told, and Sandy’s absence provides a propitious moment. I fear he’s involved in this situation.”

  “Of course he’s involved. He came with us, and if we’re arrested, he’ll be singing hymns in the back of the paddy wagon with us.”

  “Yes, but more deeply than that. There—I do believe I’ve got it. Here, Dorrie, go in and see if you stumble over an inert body on the storeroom floor.”

  “But what about Sandy?” she said, staring at him.

  “We need to complete our search as quickly as possible and return to the villa. Once we are there, I shall take you aside and explain a few puzzling things that have occurred to me. Speed is of the essence.”

  Something in his voice stirred her into action. Clutching the golf club, she edged past him and stepped across the threshold into the dark room. “I don’t see anything, Uncle Theo. I actually don’t much like this anymore, but I’ll look behind the shelves and then we can go.” She vanished around the ceiling-high metal shelves stacked with cases of supplies. “It’s really rather dark back here,” she added in a small voice. “This is dumb; I wouldn’t find anyone unless I tripped over—”

  There was a thud and a muffled shriek, followed by a great deal of rattling, clanking, and banging. A metal bucket skidded across the floor and rolled out the door. Brooms fell one by one, clattering like drumsticks against the metal edges of the shelves.

  “Dorrie?” Theo hesitated in the doorway, aware his vision would improve as his eyes adjusted to the darkness. Falling over his niece would not improve the situation. “Are you harmed in any way?”

  “I skinned my knee,” she wailed. “I hit my head on one of these damn cases of champagne, and who knows what my chin will look like in the morning. Good Lord, I broke a nail!”

  “What caused you to stumble?”

  “I don’t know, but it had better be worth a fingernail. I’ll have to crawl over and …” There was a moment of silence. “Oh, Uncle Theo,” she added, her volume increasing until the wailing seemed to be of banshee origin. “It’s Mary Margaret. She’s dead!”

  Abandoning caution, Theo flipped on the light and hurried around the end of the shelves. Dorrie was on her hands and knees, crouched up against a wall and as far as she could move away from the body on the floor. Tears streamed down her cheeks. Her teeth were chattering as she said, “I—I stepped on her, Uncle Theo. I didn’t mean to. I really couldn’t see. I really didn’t mean to step … to step on her like that.”

  “I know,” he said soothingly, as he dropped to his knees and bent over Mary Margaret. He touched her face, which felt warm, then felt the side of her neck for a pulse. “She’s not dead, Dorrie. Her pulse is quite regular and strong. I would surmise that she’s been drugged.”

  Dorrie took a frayed napkin from a box and wiped her nose. “Are you sure? You’re not just saying that to make me feel better?”

  “No, my dear. There are needle marks on her arm, which woul
d make it most probable that she was given some sort of sedative. Other than that, she appears to be unharmed.”

  “Really?” Dorrie crawled forward to join Theo next to the body. “I lost my head, I guess. Finding Eli’s body like that did me in to the max. I’m fully expecting to have nightmares for the next year. Then to feel flesh again, and not hear any breathing …” She began to cry, more quietly now.

  Theo put his arms around her and waited until she broke off with a series of hiccups. “There, there, you had a horrible experience and it would be perfectly normal to panic when encountering what you assumed was another corpse. Mary Margaret is alive, however.”

  Dorrie dried her cheeks with the napkin, unaware of the black smudges she was applying simultaneously to her face. “What’s she doing here, anyway? I was being whimsical earlier when I said all that nonsense about drugs and all. I didn’t think I was hitting quite so close to reality.”

  “I would think that she was lured down here by someone, but came freely. Once she was here, perhaps hiding in a stateroom with champagne and caviar as you suggested, the game turned ugly. Her co-conspirator decided to increase the urgency of the demands while making the sum low enough so that Mary Margaret’s father had a fighting chance to arrange for the cash.”

  “Who?” Dorrie whispered.

  “Sandy is the most likely suspect.” Theo took Mary Margaret’s hand in his own and lightly slapped her wrist. Mary Margaret’s Rubenesque proportions would make it more than a little difficult to carry her out of the yacht and to the car—if they were permitted to attempt it. “Sandy was the leader of the impromptu search party. He and Biff were the only ones in the villa who were out when the telephone call was placed to the girl’s father this afternoon. Biff is hardly the type to arrange this sort of thing. I was worried when Sandy had no problem identifying D’Orsini’s yacht in the darkness.”

  “But why, Uncle Theo?”

  “For money,” Sandy said as he came around the corner of the shelves. His golf club had been replaced with a nasty-looking revolver. “I’m dreadfully sorry about the weapon, sir. I found it in the master cabin. Mary Margaret and I thought this little ruse might be an amusing way to earn enough money to do something really wild and crazy. The idea of the yacht did appeal to her, as you said, and it seemed like a harmless little scheme. The captain mentioned that he and the crew were off-duty for the week. It seemed like a heavensent opportunity.”

  “How did she vanish in the driveway?” Theo asked, trying to avoid looking directly into the barrel of the gun, which seemed to be aimed at the center of his forehead.

  “She crouched under a shrub in the backyard and waited. When you sent Biff and me to search for her, I told him to check the front while I checked the back. He’s not exactly a candidate for Mensa. Once he and I came back to report, Mary Margaret walked down the road to a hotel and called a cab to bring her here. I happened on a stray key the other day while being given a tour, and it almost leapt into my pocket when the captain turned his back to explain the computerized navigational system.”

  Dorrie raised an eyebrow. “I thought Biff was your best friend.”

  “He’s been useful. He introduced me to the right people and funded a few trips when I was broke. My father is not a generous man; he’s very big on discipline and erect posture and all that military malarkey. I did enjoy those summers on the Cape, the snooty rich kids, the food and wine, the mindless hospitality. I never had to spend a penny for anything. But when Mary Margaret and I cooked up this scheme, we were talking real money for a change. Good-bye academy, hello Rio. The only flaw in the plan was that we’ve missed Mardi Gras this year. A year’s a long time to wait for a party of that magnitude, but we had to be flexible about some things.”

  “What a tragedy you were found out,” Dorrie sniffed. She stood up and brushed at the stain on her knee. “At least you won’t have to pay for prison food.”

  Theo jabbed an elbow in his niece’s calf. “Let’s not discuss prison, Dorrie. I doubt Sandy and Mary Margaret have done anything too serious thus far. No money has passed hands. Her father can hardly prosecute her, which means nothing is likely to happen to either of them.”

  “He drugged her, didn’t he?”

  “Yes,” Theo conceded, wishing Dorrie would consider the wisdom of her words, “but she’ll recover with no ill effects. The entire affair can be kept quiet, I would imagine.”

  Sandy waved the gun at them. “To be candid, sir, I’m still hoping that Mary Margaret’s father will cough up the money. This is a nice, well-stocked craft, and the navigation system is state-of-the-art. I’m seriously thinking about taking it to Rio.”

  “Oh, that’s totally darling,” Dorrie said. “Just run up the Jolly Roger and slap on a gold earring. Maybe you can overtake a garbage scow and board it, Captain Hook. When you’re caught, you’ll be hanged from the mast, but you’ll have had so much fun playing pirate.”

  “It may be entertaining,” he said coolly. “I really must do something with you two while I wait to hear from my partner in Connecticut. The drop was to be made by midnight, but I’ll give Ellison an extra twelve hours to scoot down to the bank and pack the cash.”

  Dorrie studied her broken fingernail. “What does that mean? I don’t have twelve hours to sit around while you make devious, guttural telephone calls to Connecticut. I’ve faced the fact that I cannot get a decent manicure on this island, but I shall presume they’ve heard of adhesive nails for emergencies like this. I need to try a few stores in the downtown area.”

  Sandy blinked at her. “For the moment, I think you and your uncle ought to stay here and take care of Mary Margaret. She became restless this afternoon and implied she was ready to forget the plan and work on her tan. I’m afraid I was forced to insist she continue to participate.” He began to back away from them. “Help yourselves to caviar and champagne; I’m sure D’Orsini would not begrudge you a few bites.”

  “How totally gracious of you,” said Dorrie. “You do realize any champagne in here will be hot, don’t you?”

  Theo grabbed her ankle as she started forward. “Sit down,” he commanded in a low voice. “We’ll be fine for a few hours. We don’t want to panic the boy. He has a gun; it would be foolhardy to presume he wouldn’t use it.”

  “You’re absolutely right, sir. I don’t wish to do anything to hurt either of you, but the game is afoot and we must all obey the rules. I learned that much at the academy. Also, if it’s not too much of a bother, would you please let me have that little thing you use to unlock doors? It rather defeats my purpose if you unlock the door in ten minutes.” Theo obliged. Sandy then backed around the metal shelves. Seconds later the door closed and the lock clicked into place.

  “Congratulations, Uncle Theo. Now we’re locked in here for who knows how long, and expected to survive on hot champagne and tins of caviar. We don’t even know if there’s a can opener in here.” She looked down at Mary Margaret, who was stirring. “Oh, keep your porch lights out. This is aggravating enough without having to deal with you.”

  Despite Dorrie’s request, Mary Margaret opened her eyes. Theo and Dorrie helped her sit up and explained several times where she was before a flicker of comprehension flashed across her face.

  “So Sandy drugged me,” she said through a yawn. “That boy is something, isn’t he? Why, he’d steal the arch supports out of his grandmother’s orthopedic shoes. Did Daddy deliver the money?”

  Theo gave her a grave look. “No, and I fear he has been instructed by a well-meaning third party to ignore any further ransom demands.”

  “Maybe Sandy will reduce it again,” Dorrie said. “You’re already more a selection from a Bloomingdale’s sale rack than a Saks designer outfit. If it continues, you’ll be ransomed as a blue light special.”

  Mary Margaret observed her through heavily lidded eyes. “Whatever have you done to your face, Dorrie? You look like the coal miner’s daughter.”

  Dorrie took a silver tray from a shelf an
d held it up to examine her reflection. “Oh, my Lord,” she said hollowly. “I look dreadful.”

  Theo handed her his handkerchief and watched with only a few winces as she scrubbed the black smears off her face. Once she finished, he suggested they partake of a bottle of champagne. They all agreed there was no reason not to, in that it was Dom Perignon and the room was warm. During the second bottle, the engines below them rumbled to life and the yacht began to move.

  “Now what’s he doing?” Dorrie demanded from behind the metal shelves, where she was making a casual inventory of their potential rations. “Does anyone want to try a can of paté? It’s French and real goose liver.”

  “No, thank you. I would guess Sandy’s moving the yacht to a different location while he awaits word from his cohort in Connecticut,” Theo said. He looked at Mary Margaret. “Who is it, by the way?”

  “The cook. She pasted up the original note for a five-hundred-dollar fee and agreed to say she saw some mysterious sort at the mailbox. At eleven o’clock she was supposed to hide in some charity box and wait for a suitcase to fall on her head.” Mary Margaret yawned once again, still fighting the last vestiges of the drug in her system. “I hope she doesn’t get canned for it; she does a divine chocolate mousse.”

  They sat for some time as the floor vibrated beneath them. Dorrie opened a tin of caviar and a packet of crackers, but no one did more than nibble. When Dorrie asked Mary Margaret about possible destinations, the red-haired girl yawned a disavowal of knowledge, leaned back, and fell asleep against a case of very good scotch.

  “If he dumps us on a deserted island, he’ll be sorry,” Dorrie said, breaking off a corner of a cracker to scoop up some caviar. “I am not the sort to find it romantic. Beaches are fine when there’s a bar with iced drinks and perhaps a small band playing native music, but basically they’re sandy. I absolutely hate sand between my toes. Doesn’t that drive you dotty, Uncle Theo?”