I gripped the rail and looked out at the water. “What happened?”

“He fell overboard. He drowned.”

“Drowned?”

“When Athena pulled into South Hampton, Neil needed a Captain. A sober Captain. He asked around and found me at an AA meeting. I hadn’t had a drink in three years. Before that, I’d been fired from my previous position for being drunk and disorderly. When Neil offered me the job, he warned me he’d fire me on the spot if he ever heard or saw me with a drink. The accident with Captain McKey isn’t something Neil would like me to be talking about. So, if you could keep that between us, I’d appreciate it.”

I tapped the railing with the palm of my hand. If Byard was sober and in the program, my hunch was that he lived a clean life. If he knew Dede had fallen overboard, he wasn’t about to cover it up and risk losing his job. And, based upon the Churchill sister’s somewhat looney reputation, I could see why he might think they were unnecessarily concerned about Dede and believe that she had gotten off Athena in Naples, as expected.

“I wouldn’t worry about what happened before. My job here is to report on Athena’s cruise around the Amalfi Coast. I don’t see how your past is part of that.”

“I can assure you, it’s not. But it is getting late, and I would like to show you below deck.”

I took several more pictures, and we walked back to the elevator. Byard pushed the button for the Marina Deck directly below. When the doors opened, he stepped out and whirled around with his hands above his head.

“And this, Kat, is the play deck. Complete with pool, jacuzzi, gymnasium, and ocean-tight platform doors.” Byard pointed to Athena’s sidewalls. “When we drop anchor and open them, they provide our residents with a private beachfront playground.”

The space was immense. Wide and open, with every kind of workout gear I’d ever seen: ellipticals, treadmills, weight machines, yoga mats, and big-screen TVs everywhere. But what caught my attention was the Olympic-size pool and a set of large metal rings hanging from the ceiling. A small, pixie-sized woman had laced her body between them with multicolored scarves and stood ready to dive.

“Who is that?” I focused my camera on the woman and took a quick shot of her standing inside one of the rings.

“That…” Byard put his finger to his lips and whispered, “is our resident aerialist, Madame Camile Garnier. Madame once worked for a traveling circus.”

I stared as Camile adjusted the silk ties about her body, then dropped headfirst in a death-defying spiral, stopping only inches above the pool. Then, righting herself, pirouetted like a ballet dancer en pointe, delicately walking above the water before wrapping herself again in the security of the scarf and climbing the silk ties like a rope back to her original position high above the pool.

“No way that woman’s sixty-two.”

“She’s not. Camile is Inspector Leon Garnier’s much younger second wife. They’re from Paris. The Inspector’s retired. Perhaps you’ve heard of him? He’s quite famous. He’s solved a number of very high-profile crimes in Europe.”

I shook my head, my eyes still on Camile as she adjusted the silk scarves and prepared for a second dive.

“We really should go. Camile enjoys working out alone in the evenings when no one is around.”

I glanced across to the end of the pool, where a well-tanned, middle-aged man sat with his eyes locked on Camile.

“And is that the Inspector?” I doubted it even as I asked.

Byard dropped his head and grinned. “No. That’s Carlo, Skipper for Athena’s toy boat.”

“Toy boat?”

“The Muse. You may not have noticed when you came on board. She’s a much smaller craft. She follows us wherever we go and carries those toys our residents like to have with them.”

“Like what?”

“Ski jets. Parasailing equipment. And what we don’t have, we helicopter in. There’s a helipad on the Sun Deck directly on top of the bistro.”

“You are a floating city,” I said.

Byard motioned for me to follow. “Come. We should move on. There’s one other person I’d like to introduce you to before it gets too late.”

I followed Byard toward the end of the gym. A young woman, who looked to be barely out of her teens, was arranging free weights. She stopped as we approached and placed her hands on her hips.

“Well, Cap’n Byard. What brings you eh-round this evening?”

“I have someone special I’d like you to meet. Kat Lawson, this is Elli, our fitness instructor. She’s here with us from California while our regular spa manager is on vacation.”

Elli had the California look. Tall, blonde, and tan with a tight body to match, but not the accent. To my ears, the girl sounded like a Brit.

“Kat’s a travel reporter, Elli. Treat her well. We don’t need any bad press.”

“I’m sure you’ve nothing to worry about.” I offered Elli my hand.

The girl responded with a firm, youthful shake. “Welcome aboard. Let me know if you want to use the spa or the gym. I’m usually here from nine to five. Better yet, I’ll send up an invite for a free massage.”

“That’d be nice.” I rolled my shoulders. “I’m still suffering from jet lag.”

“You’re in Dede’s suite, right?”

I raised a brow. Clearly, everyone on board was aware of my presence and where I was staying. “Yeah. I am.”

“Getting tired?” Byard folded his arm across his chest. “We could go on if you like, or call it a night. It’s up to you.”

I yawned involuntarily, then caught myself and covered my mouth. “Sorry about that.”

“Don’t be. There’s not much more on this deck besides the resident’s storage cages.”

“No, seriously, I would like to see it all. I need pictures, you know.”

“Then, perhaps you might like to join me for dinner one night. Afterward, I could show you the crew quarters, the engine room, the engineer’s cabin, the chain locker, where we store the anchor, and the war room.”

“The war room?”

“It’s actually a small arsenal. For security purposes. It’s not a common occurrence, but there have been incidents with pirates in various parts of the world.”

“Pirates?” The thought hadn’t even occurred to me.

“Not so much where we’re sailing now, but Athena’s a classy ship with a wealthy clientele. It’s always wise to be prepared. However, if we needed to, Athena could outrun any ship that would cause her trouble. I wouldn’t worry about it.”

Chapter Six

Ithanked Byard for the tour, and sensing he was as committed to truth as he was to his sobriety, I dismissed the idea that he had anything to do with Dede’s questionable disappearance and returned to Dede’s apartment. I was too exhausted to even think the idea of pirates might be a problem. By the time my head hit the pillow, I had blocked out any thoughts that the gold coin might be anything more than a talisman Dede had hidden in her bag and allowed Athena’s swift sail to lull me into a deep sleep.

The following morning, a thin stream of yellow sunlight eked through the bedroom blinds and woke me, along with the squawking sounds of seagulls outside my window. I got up and opened the drapes to a picture-perfect view of Procida beyond my deck. Like a post-impressionist painting, the sunlight danced on the Med’s bluer-than-blue water surrounded by a pastel-colored harbor of houses stacked like boxes, one on top of the other—pinks, blues, and yellows—rising from the sea and cluttering the mountainside.

I slid the window open, the briny smell of sea air refreshed me. Coffee. I need something strong and black and padded barefoot toward the kitchen.

I stopped halfway down the hall. Beneath the front door, Finn had slipped a copy of Athena’s Daily Call, a two-page newsletter. I picked it up and, taking it to the kitchen with me, skimmed the headlines. Little more than a summary of the world events, along with a more extended section entitled Onboard Tid Bits: The Commissary was having a two-for-one sale on wine. Movie Night included a showing of You’ve Got Mail. A gray-scale box marked Celebrations announced today was Nicholas Marcopoulos’ seventy-ninth birthday. I knew from the picture this older-looking, grey-haired gent, wearing a yachtsman’s hat, had to be Marcos, Athena’s resident sleepwalker Chief Sully, and Captain Byard had warned me about. Considering his age and the fact he was a known kleptomaniac and naked sleepwalker, I wondered how many more birthdays someone like Marco might celebrate on board. In a separate column was information about today’s Port of Call. The forecast showed a high of 86 Fahrenheit, 30 Celsius, and described Procida as the Secret Island in the Bay of Naples. The smallest of the three Poet Islands—Ischia, Procida, and Capri—Procida was best known for her warmer waters. An italicized note indicated that those wishing to go ashore should disembark on the Marina Deck. Athena would be using a local tender, a small boat from the island, to shuttle us back and forth throughout the day.