Spotting us in the water, Carlo shuttled the pontoon towards Marco, the Doctor, and the Chief while I paddled backward to avoid being hit.

“Marco, you okay?” Antonio hollered from the water as Marco boarded The Muse, then, with his back to us, gave us a thumbs up.

I waited until the Professor and Sully were aboard, then swam toward the pontoon and threw my mask inside.

Antonio waited for me to climb onboard, then followed and helped me to unleash the scuba tank from my back and placed it with his own at the rear of the pontoon.

“You sure you’re okay?” Antonio handed me a towel.

“I’m fine.” I toweled my wet shoulders and tied the towel around my waist.

“I apologize. I should have insisted Marco not join us—”

“It’s alright. Is Marco okay?”

“He’ll be fine. He panicked, that’s all.”

The Professor reached into an ice chest for a cola. “Like one? Or perhaps something stronger. With Vodka, perhaps?”

“No, thanks.” I hugged myself. I was shaking, not so much from the chill of the air but from what I thought might have been a close call, if not for Marco, then likely for me.

The Professor popped the top off a cola. “I’m sorry you didn’t see the foundry, Kat. I wanted to show you the carvings on the wall.”

“Is that where you were taking me?”

“Of course. I wanted you to see it for your story.”

I didn’t feel like that’s what the Professor had in mind when he grabbed my arm and tried to pull me from the group. I couldn’t help but think he had intended to lose me among the tall, wavy sea fronds where I’d be lost, and he could later claim I’d wandered off and they had searched but couldn’t find me. Or perhaps he had planned to yank my breathing tube from my mouth and make my death look like an accidental drowning. But I wasn’t about to let on.

“You’ve nothing to worry about,” I said. I pushed my wet hair from my face and met the Professor’s eyes straight on. “I’ve got everything I need.”

“Good. Then I can tell Neil you were pleased, and you will write a nice article.”

“Absolutely.” I feigned a smile. “And if I have any questions, I know who to ask.”

The Professor raised his soda in a mock salute, then sat next to Sully while I found a spot at the end of the boat next to Marco. I closed my eyes and sat back. I wanted to let the warm rays of sunshine drench my body when Marco leaned closer.

“Did you like the flowers I sent?”

Chapter Twenty

“The roses are from you?” I couldn’t believe what I had just heard.

Marco smirked, bowed his head to his shoulder, and whispered so only I could hear. “Did you think they were from the captain? Or you hoped they might be?”

I jerked my head. Was it obvious? “Who are you?”

I never would have imagined the flowers might have been from Marco, and I could not wait to hear what he had to say.

“Someone who wants to talk with you. Meet me for High Tea. The Ivy Café at four-fifteen, in the back. Corner table. None of these non-teetotalers will be there. They’ll be in the bar, so we can talk.” Marco leaned back and closed his eyes, and out of the side of his mouth, whispered, “And you can thank me later. I may have saved your life today.”

* * *

Had Marco not said he had saved my life, and if I didn’t think there might be an ounce of truth to it, I wouldn’t have given his invitation a second thought. I would have dismissed it and convinced myself that his request for tea was nothing more than that of an addle-brained old man who wanted attention. But, if Marco knew I was in danger and had risked his life to save mine, I needed to know what he knew and why. Anxious to learn what he knew, I returned to Dede’s apartment and changed quickly into a long, sweeping caftan. Something I thought more appropriate for speaking with a man who had a reputation for being both a klepto and nighttime nudist.

The Ivy Café was nearly empty. It was happy hour, and most residents were enjoying a drink at the bar outside on the Lido Deck. Marco was, as he said he would be, seated at a corner table with a tiered tray of cakes and cookies in front of him.

“You wanted to talk?” I took the chair opposite him and sat down.

“Try the scones. They’re excellent.” Marco used a pair of silver tongs, selected a lemon scone from the tiered tray, and placed it on a plate before me. “Tea?”

I shook my head. I wanted answers.

“What’s going on, Marco? Why the flowers, and what did you mean when you said I could thank you for saving my life today? What do you know?”

“I think you have a pretty good idea.” Marco picked up the teapot and, ignoring my objection, was about to fill my cup. I placed my hand over the top.

“I’m not a hundred percent sure I do. Why don’t you explain it to me.”

“I was sitting here when you had tea with the Churchill sisters on your first day aboard. I heard them tell you about Dede. How they think she went missing.”

I removed my hand from above my cup. “Okay, I’m listening.”

Marco finished pouring my tea. “I think you, being a reporter and all, must be beginning to wonder if things aboard the Athena might be less about Seniors at Sea than something a little more exciting. Perhaps…Senior Smugglers at Sea. Has a nice ring, don’t you think? It might explain some of the more unusual things that have happened aboard. Namely, shall we say…murder.”

I blinked. “You care to expand?”

“Oleg’s death to start with. Some aboard think it might have something to do with you.”

“Me?” I put my hand to my heart. I couldn’t believe what I was hearing.

“It seems, Ms. Lawson, that some worry Oleg might have said something to you?”

“Like what?”

“I’m not entirely sure,” Marco held his cup in both hands, his long, bony fingers tapping the rim as he spoke. “But it’s the reason I believe you’re in danger. Unless, of course, you choose to believe Oleg’s death was, as Chief Sully would like us all to think…accidental.”

I exhaled.

“And if Oleg’s death hasn’t piqued your concern, then you might start with the Professor’s missing ring. It’s not the first of things that have gone missing around here, and I understand his wife is quite upset about it. The ring would probably fetch a pretty penny on the black market.”

I took a sip of my tea. “No offense, but I heard the Chief and Captain Byard searched your cabin.”

“They always do. Something goes missing, and my cabin’s the first they search. But, between you and me, it takes a thief to know one.”

“So, you admit you’re a thief?” I put my cup down.

“I prefer to think of myself as more of a Robin Hood. I don’t mind stealing from the rich. The rich have more than they need. But I draw the line at looting tombs of the dead and the graveyards of lost civilizations. That’s cultural homicide. One does have to have one’s values.”