The Caribbean Cruise Caper (6 page)

“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!”

Everyone clustered around Boris and Jason. From her position on the boat, Bettina heard Jason's accusation and came ashore to join the group.

“What about it, Boris?” Cesar asked. “Did you really call in that order for pizza?”

“It is not a very funny joke,” Sylvie said.

Frank studied Boris's expression. He did not look flustered by the pressure. If anything, there was a hint of secret amusement. What was the joke—if not the pizzas themselves?

“Yes, I made a phone call,” Boris announced.

“Really, Boris, this sort of prank—” Bettina started to say.

Boris interrupted her. “But I did not call a pizzeria. I called a friend back home. Her name is
Christina. If you want to check with her, I will give you her number.”

“I heard you say the
Colombe d'Or
,” Jason repeated.

Boris shrugged. “I was bragging about being on a fancy yacht. I told her the name of the yacht.”

“Okay, but what about the mushrooms and cheese?” Joe asked.

“I told Christina that tensions were mushrooming among us,” Boris replied. He smiled. “And—please excuse it, Bettina—I think I called you the Big Cheese.”

“I don't mind,” Bettina said. “As an editor, I've been called a lot worse.”

Boris turned to Jason. “Satisfied?” he demanded belligerently. “Or did you maybe also hear me say something about anchovies?”

Everybody cracked up, except Jason, who turned away with a resentful expression.

“Hey, everybody, let's get with it,” Cesar said. “All those pizzas are getting cold!”

The group boarded the yacht. Arnie, the chef and steward, had already set up a table on the afterdeck with plates, napkins, and cold drinks. As they filed back, he and Chuck, the crew member who had slipped on Evan's marbles that morning, appeared with four steaming pizzas, two plain and two with mushrooms. No anchovies, as Boris pointed out.

Frank and Joe each took a slice of pizza. Frank chose plain and Joe chose mushroom. They went
to a corner of the deck where they couldn't be overheard.

“Our prankster seems to be getting more ambitious,” Frank said. “First it's plastic spiders in the cake, now a lifetime supply of pizzas.”

“Don't forget David's runaway laptop,” Joe replied. “Not to mention entering our room and rifling the contest entries.”

Frank nodded. “The thing is, we had no real leads until now. This is different. There's a good chance the trickster left a trail. Let's check it out. What was the name of that pizzeria?”

“All-Island, I think,” Joe told him. “Anyway, how many can there be in a town this size?”

When the boat was at sea, the telephone for passengers worked via a satellite dish, but when the boat docked, the phone was hooked up to a landline.

Frank got the number of the pizzeria and dialed. A man answered. When Frank explained what he wanted, the man passed the phone to a woman with a Caribbean lilt in her voice.

“Oh, yes, I remember,” she said. “I will not so easily forget an order for fifteen pies, and that a false one, too!”

“What can you tell me about the person who called?” Frank asked.

“Not so very much,” she replied. “The voice was muffled. It was high for a man but low for a woman. A Yankee accent, I think. Like yours.”

“Didn't it surprise you, getting such a big order
from a stranger? Weren't you suspicious?” Frank wondered.

“From now on I will be,” the woman said with a musical laugh. “But we are used to orders from yachts for delivery to dockside. This is the first time we have a problem.”

“I see,” Frank said. “Do you happen to know what time the call came in?”

“Oh, yes, just before three-thirty,” the woman told him.

“How sure are you?” Frank probed. “Did you write down the time?”

“No, but the caller asked us to deliver at precisely four,” she replied. “I checked my watch to see if we could do it. Just then I heard a clock chime the half hour.”