“Not really. Just that a girl like me could do a lot better than working as a masseuse on an old cruiser like Athena. And if I was interested, I should get off the ship in Alexandria. He said he knew people there he’d introduce me to. He kept talking about some big new discovery he was involved in and that I could make a lot of money if I went to work for them.”
“Don’t turn him down,” I said.
“What?” Elli screwed her face up. It wasn’t the answer she expected.
“I’ll explain later. Keep him guessing. You don’t have to answer him yet.” Out of the corner of my eye, I could see Antonio headed our way. He was carrying three champagne flutes. I turned to accept one. “Nice turnout,” I said.
Antonio nodded to the head table where Neil sat with Ida, Irene, and Captain Byard. “Neil always does it upright, doesn’t he? Look at him up there. First class all the way. He never fails.”
“Good evening.” Neil stood up from the Captain’s table. In one hand, he held a champagne flute, and in the other, a spoon he used to tap against the glass. “I want to welcome you all to my Auntie’s birthday party. Aunt Ida, as many know, is not my real aunt. But she and her sister, Irene, are like family to me. And tonight, Ida, I wish to celebrate you and wish you the happiest of birthdays. Cheers.”
Neil raised his glass to the crowd. They clapped, and the string quartet began to play. Moments later, the elevator doors opened, and a parade of cooks in their chef whites and tall hats strolled onto the deck and took their places behind a long buffet table covered with dozens of silver-domed servers.
Elli and I found a small table for two and sat down. Across from us, at a much larger table, was the Gang of Eight. It was the first time I had seen them all together. Antonio sat at one end of the table, and Carlo was at the other. Between them was the Professor, his wife Greta, Inspector Garnier, a very sullen-looking Camile, Sully, and Doctor Jon. If their body language was any indication, none of them, particularly the doctor who I noticed had glanced in my direction, looked at all like they enjoyed being there. The men all sat with their elbows on the table, hunched over their drinks, while Greta and Camile nursed their drinks.
One of the servers approached Elli and me and asked what he could bring us from the buffet. In addition to the Guazzetto, the various chefs had each prepared their own specialty. Elli and I ordered a sampler plate that arrived with an artistic display of fish, beef, chicken, pasta, and bread. Each plate was more than enough food for one, and between the food and wine—which was non-stop—we were stuffed.
But before Elli or I could push ourselves away from the table, the ship’s elevator doors opened again. This time, Chef Louie rolled a giant, tiered birthday cake, six levels high, with sparklers flaring, onto the center deck. With a champagne glass in his hand, Neil stood, nodded to the string quartet, and, together with the crowd, began to play and sing Happy Birthday.
When we finished singing, Byard helped Ida to her feet. Hugging her red scarf around her neck, Ida waved and threw kisses to everyone while Louie cut the first slice of birthday cake and placed it on the table before her. I snapped a couple of candid shots. The type of colorful action pics my editor would love for my Seniors at Sea spread. Then, thinking I might also get some pictures of the Gang of Eight—should I need them to identify its members later—I turned my camera in their direction.
The Eight were huddled together. The men, with their elbows on the table, all leaning in, conversing, while Camile, her chair slightly removed, sat stoically with her arms crossed tightly across her body, tapping her foot, her eyes to the sky. She appeared to be counting the seconds until she could leave. Then Greta stood up. Through the lens of my camera, I noticed a small gift box in her hand. I followed her with my camera’s lens as she approached the head table and, taking the lid off the box, placed it in front of Ida. Ida’s brow furrowed. Her mouth looked as though she was about to spit. Whatever Greta had placed inside the box angered Ida.
Ida smashed the heel of her hand down on the table. “You really think I’d accept anything from you? What is this, some peace offering to keep my mouth shut? You and your husband are nothing more than thieves! You not only steal from the past but from the future as well!” Then, taking a handful of cake from her plate, Ida shoved it into Greta’s face.
“Awe!” An audible gasp rose from the crowd.
Irene screamed. “Ida, please.”
Neil pulled Ida away, wrapping his arms around her as Greta retreated back to her table. Then, with his arms around both of his aunties, Neil nodded for Byard’s help, and the two men escorted the sisters to the elevator. But from above the hushed murmurs of the crowd, Ida continued to scream like an angry child throwing a temper tantrum, flailing her arms above her head, while Irene tried to soothe his sister’s unexpected outburst.
Chapter Twenty-Six
Ikept my camera on Greta, snapping pictures as she returned to her table. Grabbing her champagne flute, she tossed back what was left of it, then slapped the glass down. Realizing the situation had grown hostile, the Professor took his wife’s hand and led her away from the table. Antonio followed along with the Inspector and Camile, leaving behind plates of half-eaten birthday cake and a table of empty wine glasses.
I nudged Elli. “Do me a favor. Follow them. Tell Antonio you want to talk more about his job offer and call me later. It doesn’t matter how late. I’ll be up.”
It was after two a.m. when the cabin phone rang. Sitting in bed with my notepad in my lap, I had made two lists. One with the names of the Gang of Eight. And the other, a much shorter list, with names of those I felt I could trust. Marco was a yes, at least as long as things went well for him. Captain Byard was a possibility. Finn, as well. And Neil? I wasn’t at all sure which list to add his name to, so I scribbled it on a list by itself. As for Elli? I had yet to add her name to the list of those I felt I could trust when the phone rang.
“Hi.” I tossed my notepad onto the bed.
“I hope you were serious about my calling.” Elli’s voice was whispered. “It’s late, but—”
“Talk to me. What did Antonio say? Did he mention anything about Ida?”
“Only that he doesn’t like either Ida or Irene. He thinks they’re sponging off Neil and that Ida’s nuts and Neil would be better off if he had them both committed. I was surprised to hear him talk like that. It was a side of him I hadn’t seen before, and I didn’t like it.”
“Did he mention anything else? About the job maybe?”
“He talked around it. We all went to the bar at Romanos. That is, the Professor, Greta, and Monsieur Garnier.”
“Camile didn’t go?”
“She said she wasn’t feeling well. But I suspect she used that as an excuse to sneak off with Carlo. You haven’t been on board long enough to know, but Carlo tethers a line between The Muse and Athena when we’ve dropped anchor in the harbor. He says it’s for security reasons, to ensure smaller boats don’t get in between us. But in reality, it’s a zip line. And when Camile can, she slips away from her husband and flies like Tinker Bell into her lover’s arms.”
“It’s a five-story drop from Athena’s stern to The Muse’s bow. She really does that?”
“She is an aerialist. What do you think? And she’s married to the Inspector. Can you blame her?”
I let the subject of Camile go. After seeing Camile on my first day aboard, working the rings above the pool, it wasn’t hard to imagine Camile on a zip line. But still, it was the middle of the night, and the water was pitch black.
“What about Antonio? Did he mention anything more about the job?”
“No. I couldn’t steer the conversation away from Ida. We were all sitting close together at the bar, and Greta kept going on about what a waste it was to have the Churchill sisters on board, taking up that nice suite, and that Ida was never more than a secondary school teacher. Not at all like her husband, a real Professor. If Neil could have heard them talk, he would have booted the Brauns and the Garniers off Athena right then. And good riddance. If you ask me, Greta’s nothing but a greedy fat pig. If she could have pushed Ida overboard tonight, she would have. She was that angry, and she didn’t stop there. She went on about Irene, and then she started in on Dede.”
“Dede? Why?”
“I don’t know why. Only that Greta blames Dede for everything.”
“What do you mean, blames? What did she say?”
“Professor Braun tried to hush her up, but she was crying and hysterical. She kept saying how much she hated being stuck on Athena. That it’s all Dede’s fault.”
I cradled the phone to my ear and, picking up my notepad, scribbled Elli’s name to my list of those I thought I could trust. “Meet me tomorrow. Ten a.m. outside the Ivy. You and I need to talk. There’re some things you should know.”
Chapter Twenty-Seven
When I got upstairs to the Lido Deck the following morning, Elli was waiting for me with a cup of black coffee.
