Santa Cruise (2 page)

“Splendid, Dudley, splendid. I wouldn't mind winning the lottery myself! In fact, I may need to—”

“Good morning, Uncle Randolph.”

They had not heard the Commodore's nephew, Eric, come up behind them.

Sneaky as always, Dudley thought as he turned
to greet the newcomer. I swear he could make his living as a mugger.

“Good morning, my boy,” the Commodore said heartily, beaming at his kinsman.

The warm smile on thirty-two-year-old Eric Manchester's face was the expression he reserved for the Commodore and other important people, Dudley observed. With his perfect tan, sun-streaked hair, and muscled body, Eric had obviously divided his time between the beach and the gym. He was wearing a Tommy Bahama floral shirt, khaki shorts, and Docksiders. The sight of him made Dudley ill. He knew that when the passengers came on board Eric would be outfitted as an officer of the ship, although God knows what office he was supposed to hold.

How come I wasn't born good-looking, with a rich uncle? Dudley wondered wistfully.

“I'm running into town, sir,” Eric addressed the Commodore, totally ignoring Dudley. “Anything you need?”

“I'll let you two chat,” Dudley said, anxious to get away from the farce of watching Eric pretend he was of any use to the Commodore, the
Royal Mermaid,
or the upcoming Santa Cruise. Eric had wormed his way onto the payroll immediately after his uncle bought the ship.

The Commodore smiled at his sister's son.
“Don't need a thing I don't already have,” he said heartily. “Have fun at the party you went to last night?”

Eric thought of the wad of cash he'd been given at that party, the down payment on what would make the Santa Cruise a risky and dangerous trip—and profitable for him . . . “It was lots of fun, Uncle Randolph,” Eric said. “I was bragging to everyone about our upcoming Santa Cruise and how generous you are helping to raise money for charities. Everyone there wished they were coming with us.”

The Commodore slapped him on the back. “Good work, Eric. Get people interested in us. Get people to sign up for one of our voyages.”

I did, Eric thought, but you won't know about them . . . He shivered slightly, yet he couldn't help but smile at the irony.

Eric's guests would be the only two paying passengers on the Santa Cruise.

A
t seven
P.M.
on December 23rd, a light snow was falling on New York City as last-minute shoppers and partygoers scurried through the streets of Manhattan. In the festively decorated Grill Room of the Four Seasons restaurant on Fifty-second Street, just off Park Avenue, lottery winners Alvirah and Willy Meehan and their good friends, suspense writer Nora Regan Reilly and her funeral-director husband, Luke, were all sipping glasses of wine. They were awaiting the arrival of Nora and Luke's only offspring, Regan, and her new husband, Jack, whose surname also happened to be Reilly.

The two couples had met exactly two years earlier, when Luke had been kidnapped by the disgruntled heir of one of his deceased clients. Alvirah had been a cleaning woman who had won forty million dollars in the lottery and then became an amateur sleuth. She had introduced herself
to Regan and helped in the frantic search to save Luke. In the process, Regan had met Jack, who was head of the Major Case Squad in Manhattan, and they had fallen in love. As Luke wryly observed, “It's an ill wind that blows no one good.”

Now, Alvirah, her ample figure smartly dressed in a dark blue cocktail suit, was bursting with the invitation she intended to extend to the four Reillys, but also trying to figure out how to make it an invitation they couldn't refuse.

Willy, her husband of forty-three years who, with his white hair, map-of-Ireland face, and generous girth, was the living image of the late, legendary Speaker of the House Tip O'Neill, had been no help to her on the cab ride over from their apartment on Central Park South.

“Honey,” he'd said. “All you can do is invite them. They'll say ‘yes' or they'll say ‘no.' “

Now Alvirah looked across the table at petite Nora, elegant as always in a deceptively simple black dress, and six-foot-five Luke, towering beside her, his arm loosely around the back of her chair. We always have fun and excitement when we go on trips together, she thought, then realized that her idea of fun might be their idea of too much excitement.

“Oh, here they are!” Nora exclaimed as Regan
and Jack came up the stairs, spotted them, waved, and started over to the table.

Alvirah sighed with joy. She absolutely loved this young couple. Regan had her mother's blue eyes and fair skin, but she was four inches taller than Nora and had inherited her black hair from her father's side of the family. Jack, six feet two with sandy hair, hazel eyes, and a firm jaw, had an air of no-nonsense self-confidence that had made Alvirah sure from the get-go that he was the right man for Regan.

Jack apologized for keeping them waiting. “A few last-minute things came up at the office, but it could have been worse. I'm happy to report that as of now and for the next two weeks, Regan Reilly Reilly and I are at liberty.”

It was the opening Alvirah needed. She waited until the captain poured wine for the newcomers, then raised her own glass in a toast. “To sharing a wonderful holiday season,” she said. “I have a terrific surprise for the four of you, but first you'll have to promise you'll say ‘yes.' “

Luke looked alarmed. “Alvirah, knowing you, I can't make a promise like that without hearing a lot more details.”

“I wouldn't either,” Willy agreed. “This is what it's about. We got roped into attending a charity auction. Need I explain more? You've been to
plenty of them yourselves. Once they started the live auction after dinner, I knew we were in for trouble. Alvirah got that look on her face . . .”

“Willy, it was for a good cause,” Alvirah protested.

“They're all good causes. Ever since we won the lottery, we've been on the list for every good cause known to man.”

“It's true,” Alvirah admitted with a laugh. “But I went to this one because it was being chaired by Mrs. Sweeney's son, Cal. She's the lady I used to clean for on Tuesdays. Cal is a trustee of their local hospital, and it needs help. Anyhow I got carried away, I admit, and I won a Caribbean cruise for two. I never heard another word about it and didn't realize it was a Christmas cruise. It's been such a crazy year that, to be honest, I forgot all about it until this afternoon, when a FedEx envelope arrived from a cruise director. There had been some kind of slipup, and the cruise I won at the auction is set for next week. It leaves on December 26th and comes back on the 30th.”

“Three days from now! That's mighty short notice,” Jack said. “Are you going to go? If not, you could probably force them to put you on a different cruise. It's their fault you didn't get sufficient notice.”

“But this is a very special voyage,” Alvirah explained eagerly. “They're calling it the Santa
Cruise. Everyone on board is someone who either won the trip by being the highest bidder in a charity auction; or who is a part of a group that did a great deal of good helping other people during the year; or who, after submitting proof of making a generous donation to a worthwhile charity, was selected in a random lottery.”

“You mean no one's
paying?”
Luke asked incredulously as he accepted a menu from the waiter. “That cruise line must be rolling in cash!”

“I have the brochure with lots of pictures and all the details,” Alvirah said, reaching down and fishing it out of her purse. “The ship looks gorgeous. It's brand new. Well,
almost
brand new—it was refurbished from stem to stern. If you can believe it, it even has a helicopter pad and a rock-climbing wall, just like all the new big ships. The best part is that the cruise director is so apologetic about the notification mix-up that he wants us to bring four people as our guests to make up for it, and he offered two luxury rooms with balconies—just like our cabin.”

She beamed at the four Reillys. “I want you all to sail on the Santa Cruise with us.”

“Oh, that's impossible,” Nora answered quickly, shaking her head and looking at Luke to back her up.

“Aaaah, we're just planning to relax next
week . . .” Luke began clearing his throat as he tried to think of a stronger excuse.

“How better to relax than on a cruise?” Alvirah insisted. “Think about it. You two are going to the South of France after the first of the year. Regan, I know you and Jack are meeting friends to ski at Lake Tahoe on New Year's Eve. What do you have planned for those four days after Christmas that beats sailing in the Caribbean?”

It was a rhetorical question. “Regan,” Alvirah continued, “I just heard from Jack's own lips that he's on vacation for two weeks. What are you committed to do the day after Christmas and the three days after that?”

“Absolutely nothing,” Regan said promptly. “Jack, we've never been on a cruise together. I think it would be fun.”

“The weather prediction for the New York area next week is freezing to frigid or the other way around, whichever is colder,” Willy said encouragingly. He knew that in the couple of hours since that FedEx package arrived Alvirah had set her heart on having the Reillys join them on the cruise. “We're hiring a private plane to fly us to Miami on the 26th,” he added, hoping that Alvirah wouldn't admit that this was the first she'd heard of
that
plan. “Think about it. A beautiful ship. Fine people as our fellow passengers. Swimming in the
outdoor pool in December. Sitting on the deck reading a book. I'll bet lots of the people will be reading your books, Nora. What do you say?”

“It sounds too good to be true,” Nora said matter-of-factly, but then she paused a moment and added, “I certainly know that we always have a great time with you guys, and I definitely would enjoy spending quality time with my child and brand-new son-in-law.”

Alvirah smiled triumphantly. She could tell that the Reillys were going to go on the cruise with them. Nora and Regan were getting excited about it already and Luke and Jack would fall in line, however reluctantly. As they toasted to sharing the Santa Cruise, Alvirah was glad she'd never brought up the fact that yesterday, at yet another charity luncheon, she'd had a reading by a psychic who had been hired as a gimmick to raise extra money. As soon as her cards were dealt, the psychic's eyes had widened to the point that her eyelids had disappeared into her skull.
“I see a tub,”
she had whispered.
“A large tub. You are not safe in it. Listen to me. Your body must not be surrounded by water. Until after the New Year you must only take showers.”

U
nder cover of darkness late on Christmas night, in the Port of Miami, a rowboat glided silently up to the side of the
Royal Mermaid.
A rope ladder was dropped from the lowest deck.

“You go first,” Bull's-Eye Tony Pinto grunted as he grabbed the ladder and handed it over to his fellow escaping felon.

“You just want to make sure the rope is secure before you give it a whirl,” Barron Highbridge said icily, as he stood unsteadily, put one foot up, tested the ladder, and began to climb.

“Hurry up!” a voice urged from above.

Larry the Creep, at the helm of the rowboat, extended a beefy hand to Bull's-Eye Tony. “Don't worry, Boss. We'll be waiting for you just offshore Fishbowl Island. We'll sneak you ashore, then you'll be home free. Now try to relax on this cruise.”

“Relax? Hiding in a stateroom with that idiot
Highbridge for the next three days? I told you I didn't want to be on the run with anyone else.”

“We were lucky to find this situation,” Larry protested. “That poor dope Commodore Weed should only know what a louse he has for a nephew! Lucky for us, though. As soon as the cops find out your wife is wearing your ankle bracelet, they'll be swarming all over the country looking for you.”

“I'll say that nephew is a louse—he has some nerve charging me a million bucks for a three-night stay.”

“He wanted more,” Larry reminded him. “I drove a hard bargain with him.”

Bull's-Eye looked up. In the shadowy darkness he watched Highbridge effortlessly maneuver himself up to the deck and grasp the hand that was extended to him. His heart racing, Tony stood, grabbed the rope, and positioned his foot on the first rung. “Merry Christmas,” he muttered bitterly and turned to Larry. “If you want to give me a present, find where the Feds hid that jerk who ratted me out and whack him.”

Larry nodded.

“That would be a really nice gift,” Bull's-Eye emphasized.

From above, sweating profusely, Eric watched Bull's-Eye begin to lumber up the ladder. Eric had
been warned by Larry the Creep that if anything went wrong and Tony ended up in the clink, he would be swimming with the fishes.

Then Eric stared in horror as Bull's-Eye's gun slipped from his pocket and fell into the water. At least
that
wasn't my fault, he thought.

For two million bucks—one million for each stowaway—Eric had been willing to take this huge risk.

But now as a cursing, red-faced Bull's-Eye came closer and closer, grasped the rail, and heaved his thick body over the side of the deck, Eric realized that he might have bitten off more than he could chew. The other guy he knew he could handle. I should have stuck with white-collar criminals, he thought, trying to appear in charge as he whispered in what he hoped was an authoritative tone, “Follow me.” He did not have to warn them to be silent. Most of the crew was already on board in preparation for the maiden voyage, but it was late and the ship was quiet.