Untitled (29 page)

We join five eager women of indeterminate age waiting for Roberto to arrive at the dance studio to give his lesson. The room is smaller than I expected, but plush. One whole wall is floor-toceiling mirrors.

    Ida and I have gussied up a bit, with flared skirts and colorful blouses. Since none of us wears high heels anymore, except for impractical Sophie, we wear low-heeled sandals. Ida whispers good luck to me. I suggest we imitate Bella and Sophie and try to gush. We both giggle at that.

    Roberto enters wearing tight black pants, a frilly white shirt, and soft black leather dancing shoes. His dyed black hair gleams. He smiles that radiant smile at all of us. I might gush after all. I look more closely at him now. Now I can see through the disguise. Now I see Bob.

    He addresses the other women by name. Regulars. He recognizes us and there is the tiniest of flickering in those fake brown eyes.

    I speak up quickly. "You remember us, Roberto. We all jumped ship together." I manage a large phony smile.

    "How could I forget?" He looks deep into my eyes. I pray I won't flinch.

    Ida speaks up right on cue. She tosses a friendly wave at him. "We never had a chance to thank you for helping us save Mrs. Larkin."

    "And how is . . . Mrs. Larkin?" Now Ida gets the questioning look in the eye. She doesn't flinch, either. I congratulate him silently on how well he pretends not to know Amy's name.

    Ida remembers her speech. "She's shaken, but all right. Poor thing forgot to take her medicine that morning. She got dizzy and fell."

    I can see him pause, waiting to be sure we aren't lying, and then he relaxes.

    If he really knew what we know now, it would shake that arrogance right out of him.

    "I can't tell you how happy that makes me. Oh, and by the way, where are the delightful Miss Sophie and Miss Bella?"

    I'm just about to speak, but Ida does an impromptu on me. "Food poisoning," she blurts. "They both had the lobster thermidor for lunch." She shakes her head sadly. "Spoiled fish."

    I send her a look. I guess she didn't think "tired" was a good enough excuse.

    Roberto whirls around gracefully, his frilly shirt fluttering as he does. "Time to salsa!" He goes to the small CD player and turns it on, loud. Immediately the other women are starting to gyrate to the catchy Latin beat. I imitate them and Ida imitates me.

    "But first, costumes. To get into the Latin mood." He points to a large carton on a table.

    "Oh, my," I say, worried. Is he going to dress us up like Carmen Miranda with bananas on our heads?

    The regulars hurry over and gleefully pull out an assortment of items of riotous colors. I settle for a large fringed red shawl that reminds me of what people used to put on top of their pianos. I tie it around my waist. Ida pulls out some kind of long skirt thing with a lot of added extra layers of brightly colored zigzaggy material and pulls it on over her own skirt. She actually winks at me. This is an Ida I don't recognize.

    Roberto claps his hands at us. "OK, ladies, get in a line and try to follow what I do."

    He turns his back on us and faces the fulllength mirror. And we get to stare at the back of him. I have to admit, that is one sexy tush he has undulating at us.

    The music is very fast and hot. And so is Roberto.

    "Step forward with the right leg and bring it back to center. Step forward with the left and do the same. Keep repeating. Quick, quick, slow, quick, quick, slow."

    I watch him watching us. Is he mocking us? He smiles widely at me. I smile back just as wide. It makes my teeth ache.

    "Ladies, now add those hips to it, let those hips rip."

    I'm ripping as fast as I can, but I can't keep up with him. I look toward Ida. She is biting her lip, apparently concentrating hard on following.

    "Now let's try it to the side. Step to the right. One-two-three-hold, now step to the left and onetwo-three-hold, now cross over and do it again."

    I'm tripping over my feet. I haven't a clue what to do or where to do it.

    This seems to go on endlessly. Whatever he's doing, I'm not. Finally, thankfully, he stops.

    The women are all puffing. That was a workout.

    "Very good," says Roberto. "Now I need a volunteer. After all, this is the second most important thing you'll ever do with a partner." He smirks, letting us guess what the first might be. Ha-ha.

    He walks directly to Ida and me. He grins at me and I grin back. I feel like my face will crack from all this smiling and grinning.

    I slouch like a little kid in class who doesn't know the answers and doesn't want to be called on.

    He reaches out for Ida's hand.

    And there they go, our Ida quick-quick-slowing with him every step of the way. Ida, gracefully letting her swirly skirt swirl.

    Ida, dipping and bending when he dips and bends. Her head snapping back when he snaps. I wish I had a camera. She's adorable. Who knew?

    We're about to leave, when Roberto calls me back. He'd like to give me a few personal pointers. Ida and I look at one another. I shrug. She nods and leaves with the other women.

    Roberto puts on another tape. This is a slow rumba. He pulls me to him.

    "I'm really not good at this," I say.

    "Don't worry. I'll lead you."

    And he is a very good leader.

    He pulls me even tighter to him. This is not good. His aftershave is overwhelming. It's making me want to sneeze. Why did I let Ida leave?

    He whispers. His mouth is so close to my ear, I can feel his breath, and I shiver. "I've been watching you, Mrs. Gold. You are a very smart lady."

    "Thanks." I am desperately trying to create space between our two bodies, listen to what he is saying and hear what he really means, and think fast, all at the same time.

    "But it's not a good idea to get involved in other people's business." His fingers dig a little too deeply into my neck as his other arm tightens even more around my lower back. I am feeling body parts I haven't felt in a very long time. His. Not mine.

    I giggle nervously. "My mother used to tell me the same thing." He twirls me around. I nearly fall on him as he spins me back. "But I never listened."

    "Listen now. A ship can be a dangerous place for an elderly woman like yourself. Accidents can happen. A slippery deck. A broken railing. Steep metal steps."

    Oh, how I'm dying to tell him, he doesn't need to kill Amy or even me anymore. The jig's up.

    Enough. Time for an accident of my own. I "accidentally" step hard on his right foot and, at the same time, my allergy to his aftershave makes me sneeze hard, right into his face.

    "Clumsy . . ." He pulls away, wiping his face in disgust.

    I move to the door, fast. "I can't agree with you more. An old person better be careful. Thanks for the lesson."

    And I am running down the hallway. I don't know if I'm running for my life or for my shower. For a very cold shower.

    Whoa! Talk about sex and violence.

    And cheap thrills.

W
e arrive at the captain's office promptly at

      five. The Sicilianos are already there. "Don't ask," I told the girls when they asked about my dance with Roberto. "You don't want to know."

    Angelina asks about Amy. I checked with the infirmary. She was still asleep.

    The door opens and we are invited in. It is your ordinary conference room. A large gray table with matching chairs around it. Even the walls are gray. We all take seats. My group looks to me.

    I introduce everyone to the captain and he introduces us to his three top men.

    "Speak," says Captain Standish.

    I jump right in. "We have a murderer on board. His name is Robert Martinson, aka Roberto, who teaches your Latin dance class, and you should grab him fast."

    "Start from the beginning, Mrs. Gold, and then I shall determine what course of action I shall take."

    Okay, we know who's in control here, don't we?

    I start. Nonstop. With no interruption.

    I don't know how long I've been talking, but my voice feels raspy and I don't dare sneak a look at my watch.

    I am aware of an occasional squeak of chairs, a cough now and then, and an intermittent need to hold on to the table since the ship is rocking quite a bit.

    And once or twice I can see Angelina, clutching at a handkerchief and crying.

    I can also tell my girls are dying to jump in and contribute but are awed into silence by the very intimidating captain.

    Finally I wind down. "So, Captain Standish, what do we do now?" Notice the "we"—he's my partner now.

    We tell him where Amy is and her condition. For a moment there is silence. He addresses the Sicilianos. "I can only guess how difficult this situation is for you. Please know I shall do whatever I can to help you. I will, of course, inform all the necessary authorities. And until we can take Mr. Martinson into custody, you will be accompanied at all times by my men, and a guard will be posted outside the infirmary."

    "Gladdy was threatened, too," Sophie pipes, then quickly shuts up.

    He nods to his second-in-command, who goes to the wall phone and speaks softly and quickly.

    The first mate hangs up the phone. "They're searching for him right now. I told them not to do anything other than to locate him."

    "Good," says the captain.

    Captain Standish looks at me. I wish I could know what he's thinking. What does that glint in his eye mean? Then he says, "I might mention that at your suggestion, Mrs. Gold, I contacted Detective Morgan Langford and retired detective Jack Langford. I was warned by them that you were a force unto yourself. And I should take you very seriously."

    I smile. There is a muttering of agreement among my group.

    I say nervously, "I made a big mistake trying to outsmart Martinson by going to his dance class. There's no doubt he's on to us."

    Our group gets up, ready to leave, when the phone rings again. The first mate answers, listens, hangs up.

    "They haven't been able to locate him as of now, sir. He missed his four-thirty class."

    My heart sinks. I think of slippery steps and broken railings.

    The captain turns to his men. "Find him. Be as inconspicuous as you can. I don't want to alarm the passengers."

    Bella can't stand it anymore. She blurts, "But what if he has a gun?"

    Sophie joins in. "What if he runs for it?"

    Evvie can't resist a famous movie line: " 'He can run, but he can't hide.' "

There is a smattering of nervous laughter.

    "We're out on the ocean, ladies," the captain reassures us. "He can't go far."

    "I want to have a turn at him when you catch him," growls Elio.

    "What if he grabs a hostage?" Ida adds.

    The captain dryly asks us if we watch a lot of movies.

    Yes, and a good thing, too. I want to say it but I resist the temptation.

    He walks us to the door.

    I stop. "Captain, sir, may I make a suggestion?"

    "Can I stop you?"

    "I think I have an idea of how to search for him while keeping the passengers out of harm's way."

    "I'm listening," he says. Boy, is he scary. This is the second time today I feel like a child. Afraid of this very big teacher standing there with a very large ruler in his hand.

    Here goes nothing. "Maybe you should call a fire drill. Then everybody will be gathered together in controlled areas, and with the ship emptied out, he should be easier to spot."

    For a long moment the captain stares at me. Then he shakes his head as if in disbelief. And there's that twinkle in his eye again.

    "Mrs. Gold," he says, "who
are
you?"

    I could tell him I'm from the planet
Meshugeneh,
but I think I've overstayed my welcome.

    To his men he says, "Prepare to sound the alarm."