Home Fires Page 18

  Don Miles will never find a new Jane. He will find another girl, and why not? He’s levelheaded, decent, and quite smart. Get him a good job—and I will—and he’ll be able to pick and choose. But not another Jane. For him there can never be another Jane Sims.

  Just as there can never be another Chelle Sea Blue for me. We hurried to the elevator, and now we wait. In the elevator we will wait again. And I know that I must save Chelle if I can, and that I’ll lose her—and very soon—whether I save her or not. I long to be the white knight riding to her rescue, Sir Galahad in spotless armor, astride a white stallion. I’ll save her from the bastard who’s got her; and after that, for a night or two, possibly three, I’ll be Sir Galahad.

  No longer than three, I’m sure.

  What is it women look for in a man? Don’s wanting his Jane back, I understand easily. But why did Jane want her Don all over again? Was it the shared background? They’d been schoolmates after all.

  Or was it just that Don was someone she could rely upon? There could not have been many such men, for her. She would’ve had to look for spies everywhere, just as we—but here’s the elevator.

  13. JERRY’S ROOM

  The captain inserted his master cabin card and twisted the knob. With his submachine gun off-safe, Skip kicked the door open and burst into the room. Rick Johnson was at his heels, gun drawn.

  A pretty brunet looked up from her book and screamed. Skip froze. Johnson pushed past him, flung the bathroom door open, and stepped in.

  “Please,” Skip said. “Please. It’s all right.”

  The brunet screamed again.

  Over Skip’s shoulder, the captain asked, “Are these men bothering you, ma’am?”

  “I … You’re searchers.”

  “We are,” the captain said. “We’re sorry we disturbed you. Both these men will apologize, I’m sure.”

  “I do,” Skip said. “Profoundly. I’m very sorry.”

  Johnson shook his head. “Not until I’ve looked in the closet.” He did, and apologized.

  The brunet smiled weakly, although she seemed on the point of tears. “I knew the ship was being searched. I … I guess I just never thought they’d search here.”

  “We’ll leave at once,” the captain told her.

  “Almost at once.” Skip sat down on the bed, with his submachine gun across his lap. “Please let me introduce myself. My name’s Skip Grison.”

  “I know that,” the brunet said. “I’m Nan Olivera.”

  “You know our captain? Captain Kain?”

  “I know who he is.”

  The captain cleared his throat. “I don’t get to see as much of the passengers in this class as I would like, Ms. Olivera. You’re here with Sergeant Kent-Jermyn?”

  She nodded. “We’re contracted. I—well, I know that Mr. Grison is contracted with Mastergunner Blue, the woman they’re searching for. I don’t think I’ve said I forgive him yet, but I do. I know Gerald would look for me until he was too tired to stand up.”

  She turned back to Skip. “You are, you know. You ought to see yourself.”

  He shrugged. “Nothing a few hours’ sleep won’t fix. You spoke of the sergeant a moment ago. You called him Gerald?”

  “Yes. That’s his name.”

  “I know it is. Don’t you call him Jerry sometimes? I thought people did.”

  “Oh, no! He hates it. I’ve got—sometimes I use a pet name, only never in public. I won’t tell you what it is.”

  “Not even if it might help us find Chelle? Find Mastergunner Blue? Because it might. You could whisper it, if you like.”

  The brunet’s mouth opened, then closed again.

  “I’ll go,” the captain said. “I’m sure Mr. Johnson will, too.”

  Johnson nodded.

  “Will you promise never to tell anybody? All three of you? It’s supposed to be something private between Gerald and me.”

  Johnson said, “I promise.”

  Captain Kain added, “We all do.”

  “All right. It’s Pickle. That’s what his mother called him when he was little, only she’d never tell me why. But I’ve called him that ever since, when … You know. When we’re in bed and like that.”

  “I see. There was a party—”

  He was interrupted by a familiar voice. “Hello! May I come in?”

  The brunet stood up. “Aren’t you Mastergunner Blue’s mother? That’s what somebody said.”

  “Yes, indeed!” Vanessa’s smile would have charmed a queen. “I remember you from the party, Nan. You were the prettiest girl there.”

  “Oh, I wasn’t! But come in, please. I’m surprised you remember me at all. We only met for a minute or two.”

  “I could never forget you,” Vanessa declared. She took Skip’s hand. “I said I had to talk to you, remember? It was during that meeting. I’ve been waiting for you to call, but you didn’t, so I went looking for you. Raimundo told me you’d gone in here—Raimundo’s the steward on this deck, and very nice.”

  “I’m sure he is. That party you mentioned a moment ago—the one at which you met Ms. Olivera. Was that the one you arranged for the soldiers?”

  “Yes, of course. It was a very nice party, if I do say so myself.”

  “Who issued the invitations?”

  “Polly did. Polly Lutz.”

  “She decided who to invite?”

  “No,” Vanessa said, “I did that.”

  The brunet smiled. “Thank you for inviting us. We had a super time. I want to apologize for not searching for your daughter, but Gerald didn’t want me to. He said there were plenty of searchers, and it could end in another gunfight.” She paused for a deep breath. “So I stayed in here. I’m sorry now that I did.”

  Vanessa kissed her cheek. “Don’t you worry. We’ll find her.”

  Skip had been dialing Susan. Having been informed that her phone was out of service, he flipped his own shut. “I apologize to everyone here. This has been a mess, and I made it. Virginia has an urgent matter to discuss, and I put it on the back burner for this. I made Rick and Captain Kain look like fools and I can only hope they’ll forgive me for it. I am the fool, not they. We broke in on Ms. Olivera—”

  “Call me Nan, please.”

  “We broke in on Nan and terrified her, and I regret it more than I can say.”

  The captain cleared his throat. “This cruise has been disastrous, and it’s my fault. The hijackers caught me flatfooted, something that won’t happen again if I live to be a thousand.”

  Skip said, “There will be lawsuits, none of which will involve me. For your company’s sake, you should be careful about what you say.”

  Johnson grinned. “I didn’t hear a thing.”

  Vanessa added, “Hear what?”

  “I won’t sue anybody,” Nan Olivera said. “I don’t think Gerald will, either.”

  Captain Kain smiled. “You know, I’ve been neglecting my duties. I’m afraid I’ve let the hijacking push my day-to-day job out of my mind. We have some empty staterooms in first class, and we normally upgrade a few second-class passengers to fill those. Would you like to upgrade, Nan? You’d have a sauna and a veranda—and a lot more room, of course.”

  “I’d love it! I’m sure Gerald would, too.”

  “I’ll see to it, and send your steward to help you move. He’ll have your new cabin card, and it will get you into the first-class dining room.”

  Skip motioned to Vanessa, and they left together.

  “Where shall we talk?” she whispered.

  “Out on deck, if that’s agreeable to you.” He sighed. “I’ve a touch of claustrophobia. It rarely bothers me, but with so many people in that tiny cabin…”

  “We could go to your stateroom. Out on your veranda?”

  “No.” Skip had started up the stairs. “People on the neighboring verandas could overhear us, and we couldn’t see them listening.”

  The sun was bright and warm, the sea sparkling like sapphire, and the big ship heeling to a whistl
ing wind. Skip found them seats in the shade, well away from any listeners.

  “You said you told Polly whom to invite. This was a party for soldiers on leave?”

  “For anyone who’d been in service.” Although her careful coiffeur was whipping in the wind, Vanessa smiled. “Did you see our announcement? It was in the Bulletin.”

  “I suppose I did. I didn’t pay much attention to it.”

  “The computer’s got a register of passengers, and the soldiers on leave are listed under their military titles—their honorifics, or whatever you call it. Private so-and-so. Chelle was Mastergunner Chelle Sea Blue. Like that.”

  Skip nodded.

  “So those were easy to find. I had Amelia contact a few and get the names of some who’d been discharged, and I put that announcement in, and after that I listed everybody and had Polly send invitations. Amelia watched the door, and each of them could bring a guest. Just one. Only some who’d seen my announcement or been told about it just dropped by. If they could show they’d been in the service, Amelia let them in.”

  “Do you remember the names you gave Polly?”

  “All of them?” Vanessa shook her head.

  “Some of them.”

  “Yes, certainly. Quite a lot, actually.”

  “I’m looking for a man called Jerry. Was there anyone?”

  “Ah! I see. Is this to get Chelle back?”

  “Yes. Please help if you can.”

  “But you won’t tell me what’s going on for fear I’ll be hurt.”

  Skip had put on his sunglasses and was studying small white clouds that rode the west wind; he muttered, “That’s close enough.”

  “I’d like to get closer. Why?” Vanessa’s hand found his. “Don’t you trust me, Skip? After all we’ve been through?” It was a firm little hand, and it held his tightly.

  “I do, but I don’t trust Reanimation. If they get you, they’ll have your mind on their computer. I don’t know how deeply they’ll look into it, but they may find memories they can use to damage Chelle. Or to damage me. We’ll be trying to get you back, and they’ll twist our arms, if they can, to make us stop. Do you recall inviting anyone called Jerry?”

  “Jerry? Jerry … I don’t think so. There was Gerald Kent-Jermyn, of course. We were just talking to his wife.”

  “Contracta,” Skip said.

  “Whatever. She sounded just like a wife. He won’t do?”

  “No. We’ve eliminated him. Jerome?”

  Vanessa’s eyebrows went up. “I thought you said Jerry.”

  “Men named Jerome are often called Jerry, informally.”

  “I didn’t know that. What about G-E-R-R-Y? I’ve known women with that name, and it’s pronounced like Jerry.”

  “I don’t think it’s a woman, but I heard the name on the phone, so it could be that. Or Geri with an I. Were there any?”

  Vanessa shook her head. “Not that I know of.”

  “Jeremy? Gerard?”

  “I don’t think so. John and James. Alan and Robert. There were lots of those.”

  “Don Miles.”

  She nodded. “Yes, I remember him. And Joe. There were several Joes. Josephs. Several Josephs and one Jake. But I can’t help you with Jerry, I’m afraid, if it isn’t Gerald Kent-Jermyn. I have something to tell you, though, and I wish you’d let me get it out. It’s important, and I’m about to burst.”

  “There was someone at that party called Jerry,” Skip insisted.

  “If you say so, then I’m sure there was. But I don’t know about him, and Amelia’s dead. She was at the party much more than I was.” Vanessa snapped her fingers. “Why don’t you ask Nan? She was there. Or her husband.”

  “I will.”

  “Now please don’t tell me why you have to know. Not until I tell you. Do you remember the restaurant? I saw the people eating, and the woman saw me?”

  Skip nodded.

  “Afterward I was stabbed. Not long afterward, either. Just a few minutes. Did I describe the woman to you?”

  “Yes. Round-faced, heavy, nice-looking, light brown hair.”

  “There’s a woman on this ship. The first time I saw her I knew I’d seen her before, but I couldn’t place her. She’s more of a blonde now, but that’s easy and it could be the sun. Then we had that meeting. You had me take off my little gun so everybody could see my arm. Remember?”

  “I do.” Skip was staring. “There was only one other woman in that room.”

  “Does she work for you? I got that impression.”

  “She did. She was my secretary. You’re saying that Susan—Susan Clerkin, who worked for me for years—belonged to a suicide ring.”

  Vanessa shook her head, earrings bouncing. “I’m not. I don’t know that. I’m just saying that the woman who was with you in that meeting is the one who saw me in Simone’s. She is. Could she have planted the bomb that killed Polly and Amelia?”

  “Yes.”

  “Just like that, Skip? Your secretary?”

  Skip did not speak.

  “My God, you look awful. Does it really hurt that much?”

  “I hurt her very badly, Vanessa. I wounded her far more deeply than I realized at the time, and now she’s getting her own back with interest. She called me. That was when I was talking to the captain, after a couple of hundred of us had spent hours searching the ship for Chelle.” Skip paused, remembering. “She told me she had Chelle, and to prove it she let Chelle talk to me for a few seconds.”

  Vanessa waited, large brown eyes wide, crimson mouth poised to moan.

  “Chelle said they were in Jerry’s cabin. By that time I thought I knew who ‘Jerry’ was. I told the captain, and he came with us. You walked in on that.”

  “So I could tell you what I just did.”

  “I wish you’d told me earlier,” Skip said. “She was there. We could have held her.”

  “Well, I couldn’t tell you without telling the others, could I? Not unless you’d been willing to go into a corner with me and whisper, and you wouldn’t have done that. You know you wouldn’t.”

  “I suppose you’re right.” Skip closed his eyes. “Did I say that Susan had Chelle? I mean a moment ago.”

  “You certainly did.”

  “Then I misled you. Susan said ‘we.’ ‘We have Chelle.’ She talked about a man, apparently a lover.”

  “That would be Jerry. I see.”

  “Would it? That’s what I thought. I wish I weren’t so tired. It’s hard to think straight when you’re tired.”

  “You need coffee. I can try to find you some if you like.”

  He opened his eyes. “I need sleep, but I have to find Chelle, and find her quickly.”

  “She said Jerry’s room?”

  “Yes. Just that. Nothing more.”

  “Then she expected you to know who Jerry was.”

  “Correct. When she came back from that party, she mentioned a man called Jerry. So that’s the man, or I think it is. If she thought about it at all, she must have thought that it would be easy for me identify the Jerry she knew.”

  “I can go through the list for you.” Vanessa sounded thoughtful. “My terminal’s gone, but I can find another. Richard would let me use his, I’m sure. There are bound to be more Geralds, perhaps some of those other names, too.”

  Skip took off his sunglasses to rub his eyes. “The thing is, we’ve searched the ship. All the cabins. Even the crew’s quarters. They may have killed her already and disposed of the body. Only I don’t dare let myself assume that. What if they haven’t?”

  “Well, I don’t believe it. Let’s get back to that little blonde who was at your meeting. You said she was your secretary?”

  Resuming his sunglasses, Skip nodded.

  “And it sounded as if the man with her was her lover?”

  “She didn’t say so, only that she loved him. But yes, it did.”

  “Only you think she was in a suicide ring.”

  “Correct.”

  “Well, she hasn’t c
ommitted suicide. I can promise you that. If there’s one kind of woman in the whole world who won’t kill herself, it’s a woman with a new lover. You’re fretting because you didn’t find Chelle. Did you find your secretary?”

  Skip shook his head.

  “You had the others looking for her? As well as Chelle?”

  “Yes, certainly.”

  “Then Chelle isn’t dead, and they’re still together. It’s just that nobody looked in the right place. She said she was in this Jerry’s cabin?”

  “Let me think. Yes. She said Jerry’s room. ‘We’re in Jerry’s room.’ ”

  “That might not be a cabin at all. We’ve an artist on board. Her name’s Cynthia Van Houten, and she’s teaching sketching and oil painting to anybody who wants to learn. She got half off on her ticket for that.”

  “Are you sure this is germane?”

  “I think so. She’s got a studio on D Deck, and just about everybody calls it Cynthia’s room. Suppose we go around the ship asking people where Jerry’s room is? If Chelle knew, other people are bound to know, too.”

  They stopped an elderly man with a corncob pipe who had come up on deck to smoke. When Skip explained, the elderly man said, “Who’s Jerry?”

  “Just someone I ran into a few days ago.” Skip paused, trying to place the man. “Young, nice-looking. We’d like to find his room. Do you know where it is?”

  “ ’Fraid not.”

  Ramón, the C Deck steward, knew no one of that name. Hoping against hope, Skip selected Susan’s number yet again. It was still out of service.

  The muscular woman standing in the door of the spa said that there had been a woman called Jeri on the previous cruise. “Real nice lady, only she gone now.”

  Skip said, “That won’t help, I’m afraid.”

  “This important, Ms. Healy?”

  Vanessa nodded. “Very important.”

  “You wait jus’ one minute an’ I’ll help. I got to lock my place up.”

  She returned a moment later. “Don’t anybody want no massage now anyhow, an’ three’s better’n two.”