Cashed In Part 11

"I wouldn't count on docking there, Dad, because of that storm. They'll probably just cruise on toward our next port."

"Well, if we do, we promise to come back with pictures of the big critters."

"Just promise to come back in one piece!"

Dad winked at me just as someone slid an arm around my waist. "There you are. I was worried about you. And here you just found better company."

I turned to Ian and smiled apologetically. "This is my family." I introduced Ian around to Dad and Mom, who was giving her best thousand-degree once-over, head to toe and back again, pausing at his ring finger, as Dad made small talk. Ian put his hand at the small of my back, and I got the message he wanted out of there.

While I didn't blame him, I also couldn't extract myself just yet. I eased out of his reach.

As Dad wound down about his research into manatees and began talking to Mom about hiking the ruins in Cozumel, I turned to Ian. "What are your plans for the rest of the day?" I asked.

"I was hoping you were free this afternoon." he whispered.

"Um, my, uh, fash-friend made an appointment at the spa for me to have a Dead Sea mud facial and sea kelp body wrap," I told him quietly, knowing if Mom heard about it, she would insist on a two for one offer.

"Too bad. I guess I'll have to drag out my stack of Psychology Todays and get caught up on professional reading while you pamper yourself."

Mom sure heard that. Her head snapped around, leaving her conversation with Dad. "You are a psychologist?"

"Indeed." Ian made a half bow. "An a.s.sociate psychology professor at University of New Mexico."

"Good for you, my boy," Dad said heartily.

I looked at my watch. "I need to run."

"We'll meet then for a drink at the Betcha Club before dinner?" Ian asked, or really a.s.sumed, although I'd rather think he asked.

I nodded and he said good-bye to my parents. Elva leaned in, as we watched him go, to say, "Don't you know, Belinda, all shrinks are crazy and Roswell is the alien capital of the world. Two strikes against him."

"The university is in Albuquerque," I pointed out.

"You don't know where he grew up, now, do you?" Elva demanded.

"Handsome boy," Dad said helpfully in a complete non sequitur.

"Boy being the operative term there, Howard. I think he's quite a bit younger than you, Belinda."

"I don't know why Ben can run around with girls barely out of diapers, and I have a drink with a man a few years younger and it's an unpardonable sin."

Elva sighed and looked to the skies for divine intervention. "Belinda, you shouldn't get so worked up about things. I was just giving you some motherly advice. You don't have to take it, certainly. You're a grown woman, after all. I just love you and care about you, pookie." Sniff.

She won on redirect as always, not addressing my question, yet simultaneously shutting me up and making me feel guilty. My mother would have made an excellent defense trial attorney. I swear she could have gotten Ted Bundy off scot-free.

"Poor Frank," she said sadly as Dad dragged her off, with a wave at me. "Discarded and forgotten."

I was still steaming as I stomped to the elevators and reviewed the s.h.i.+p's map. The spa was up one floor, so I decided to wear off some of my anger by climbing the stairs. Halfway up, I almost ran over Solis, the cruise s.h.i.+p employee who'd helped me the first day. "Hi Solis, how's it going?"

"Miss Cooley. I watched you play last night. You're good."

"Mostly just lucky, but thank you," I answered, putting my hand in my purse and feeling for some bills. "I hope you all with the cruise line are having some luck too, finding my friend Rawhide Jones?"

Curtains pulled across Solis' eyes as they narrowed. "I don't know."

I extracted the first bill my fingers found and slipped it into his hand on the staircase railing. He looked down and gasped about the same time I did. A C-note?! I thought it was a twenty. I had to get a little smoother about this detective business or I was going to go broke asking a couple of questions.

After looking around, Solis leaned in. "They found his hat. Cowboy hat."

"Where?" I whispered back.

"In the railing on the fourth deck. Stuffed there. Before he jumped, or after someone pushed him . . ."

I s.h.i.+vered, and Solis crossed himself.

"What about the video cameras on the s.h.i.+p?" I whispered. "Don't they show what happened?"

Solis shook his head. "They were all covered up. Where Mr. Rick was. Where the cowboy's hat was. It's all black on tape."

Whoa. I stifled another s.h.i.+ver. "I guess Rawhide didn't jump then," I observed. "Unless he took extra time to prevent an audience."

"No worries, Miz Bee. The new security, they'll catch them."

"Who's the new security?"

Solis opened his mouth just as a round pink tornado flew down the stairs-Kinkaid in hot pink capris and a matching marabou-collar sleeveless sweater. She threw a look at Solis that sent him back about three strides. He tucked away the hundred and nodded to me as he hurried away. She grabbed my forearm. "There you are. I've been looking everywhere for you. We have to have a little discussion about ethics and morals when you are representing the game we are sponsoring on board this s.h.i.+p."

"Look, I didn't do anything-"

"But you are about to rob the cradle. I just saw your mom and she told me all about your new beau." Kinkaid paused to giggle, leaning in and whispering, "You go, girl!"

Okay. Weird. "Um, thanks."

"Now off you go. Can't keep that sea kelp and your ma.s.seuse waiting." Mom and her big mouth. Humph. Could a girl have no secrets?

I smiled and waved. It wasn't until I was almost at the spa that I remembered I hadn't mentioned getting a ma.s.sage to Mom.

A lovely brunette of indeterminate age with the most flawless complexion I had ever seen drew me into a room where the sounds of dolphins in conversation reverberated. I must have made a face because Valka c.o.c.ked her head and asked me if I would rather hear whales, seagulls, waves or sea snails.

"Sea snails?"

"It is especially subliminal."

"Huh." I liked dolphins-they were cute-but they were doing a lot of high-pitched squeaking at the moment. "I'll go for waves."

She nodded and, handing me a plush towel, instructed me to disrobe while she went to change the noise theme. She disappeared out the door opposite to the one we'd come in. There was a padded table in the middle of the room and an array of jars of some of the most icky looking muck I'd ever seen. It reminded me a bit of the colors for fall two years ago-baby poo yellow, toad wart green and Oklahoma mud orange. I wondered which jar held the sea kelp. The opposite wall was gla.s.s, with a floor-to-ceiling view of the sea and the sky. Liberating really, until I got close and it looked like the sea was really really far down and then it was a bit scary. Dolphins were drowned out by waves. I slipped out of my clothes, feeling self-conscious, especially when Valka returned.

Valka messed around with a tub in the corner of the room. Then she laid on the table what looked to me like oversize Saran Wrap and ordered me to recline on top of it. Once I was facedown, she whipped the towel off me like an NFL trainer. It was definitely a good thing I couldn't see the layers of kelp because they felt disgusting. Although they'd been warmed, they were very wet, very gooshy and very slippery.

"It's ticklish." I tried not to wiggle.

"Be still," she ordered.

I tried. "Uh, Valka, how long do I have to keep this c.r.a.p on?"

"One and one half hours. And it is not c.r.a.p. It is antioxidant, that means antic.r.a.p."

I was going to have to be squishy in the antic.r.a.p for that long? It'd better tighten up the cellulite is all I could say.

She flipped me over like a giant tuna on a boat deck and began kelping me on the topside. Ick. I closed my eyes. I couldn't believe I was undergoing such needless torture. I really didn't care that much about my oxidants, after all. I didn't even make the appointment, for goodness' sake. Then, I remembered my Dad's favorite saying, "What doesn't kill you is certainly good for you." I think he meant it about some life experience more substantial than kelp on my rump, but I'd use it here anyway.

Valka then proceeded to cleanse my face with a series of implements that felt like fine coral, acid and sandpaper, respectively. Then she clapped her hands. "Now, the Dead Sea mud."

Goody.

The mud was warm and more soothing than the kelp. The only negative was it smelled to high heaven. I was afraid I would throw up my lunch.

"Stop wrinkling your nose," she commanded.

"Blech," I argued.

"After all the synthetic products you live in and around, you just aren't accustomed to the clean smell of nature. Open your mind. This is cleansing. Relax." She paused and I heard her sliding open a window. "Here, I will introduce the sun-drenched sea air to help you."

I opened my mind, took a deep breath, tried to relax and cringed. The waves emanating from the walls were pounding harder and harder and harder. I was feeling a bit pummeled. A piece of kelp slid off my thigh and onto the floor. "Uh, Valka? Could I go with the whales now? We're in a perfect storm in here. Not too relaxing."

Valka sighed weightily, washed the mud off her hands in the basin, closed up the kelp and walked to the far door, pausing with a hand on the k.n.o.b. "I will go change it and you just do deep breathing. Close your eyes. Feel nature. Feel the kelp and the mud drawing the poisons out of your body. Feel your body healing. I will be back later."

I know dolphins are smart but whales are more relaxing, fins down. Their deeper voices booming and whoos.h.i.+ng lulled me into a state where I could somehow a.s.similate all I'd been through in the last twenty-four hours. It didn't bring me to any conclusions, but I did get it organized in my mind.

I looked up just as I was about to drift off to sleep and noticed something out of place amidst the synthetic vine curling up the corner of the room to the ceiling. It took me a moment to recognize a hidden video camera. My first thought was that my brother, who was surely paying for my funky clothes and all this pampering, had installed something to record his money's worth by putting me all over the Internet. My second thought was Hans telling me the cruise line had to keep an eye on their pa.s.sengers. Was some guy in a video room watching me get covered with seaweed? My third thought was Solis telling me the cameras near Rawhide's hat and Rick's attack had been covered. Then I saw a carefully placed hank of sea kelp hung over the lens.

Uh-oh.

Before I could figure out how to move, handicapped by kelp, Saran Wrap, Dead Sea mud and whale ergonomics, something fell over my face and everything went dark.

Fourteen.

I should have been scared, but instead I was just p.i.s.sed off. Serene to psycho in 1.2 seconds. I yanked at the piece of material over my face and tried to sit up. The material wasn't coming off easily, adhered to my head by something stubborn-duct tape, I'd bet. Or perhaps the mud had glued it to my face. I oozed off the table anyway, hitting a body, which yelped. I felt hands grabbing at me, my slippery antioxidant suddenly my ally. I'd have thought the kelp would be falling w.i.l.l.y-nilly in my angered gyrations, but I suspected Valka had mixed in some herbal glue to make it stick.

I sensed two people in the room, but the song of whales in full mating disoriented me as I banged into the jars against the wall. One fell to the floor with a sloshy thump and I grabbed at one on the wall and yanked off the top, brandis.h.i.+ng it as a weapon. I hoped it was the baby p.o.o.p- colored goo, and furthermore, that it smelled even worse than it looked. I heard a groan, then a m.u.f.fled voice that could've been an alto or a tenor say: "Just throw her out the window."

Ack. I wondered if sharks liked kelp and Dead Sea mud. I knew that open window was a bad idea. d.a.m.n Valka.

A hand tried to grab at me again and I flung the contents of the jar in the direction where the attached body should be. I heard a tortured gurgling and suddenly worried that I had burned the bad guy with acid. But then my preservation instinct kicked in-I threw the entire jar at him, apparently onto another vital body part because there was a distinct "oof." Then I slid past the other bad guy, letting the breeze from the open window orient me, and dove for where the door to freedom should be. I knocked over two pieces of art on the wall before hitting the k.n.o.b. I wrenched open the door and felt my head snap back as someone grabbed at my hair and the tail of the towel around my face. I ran forward anyway, wrenching the towel off my head, and taking half my hair out with the duct tape that had held it on. With a small yelp of pain, I kept going down the labyrinth hallway.

I ran past the startled receptionist, down the corridor and straight into a six-foot hunk of man.

"Whoa, mermaid," he said, hands on my shoulders. "You're pretty far from the water. It's out there." He pointed over the side of the railing.

I struggled against him. "I don't want to die."

He laughed. "There might be a lot of things on my mind right now, mermaid, but killing you isn't one of them."

I looked up into the face of the Marlboro Man.

Ack. Of course. Just my luck. I would win tonight in cards if I lived long enough to play because I was embarra.s.sing myself beyond imagination. "What's on your mind?" I asked weakly.

He laughed, a nice, solid trustworthy laugh, and doffed his b.u.t.ton-down short sleeved s.h.i.+rt, pulling it out of his jeans and unb.u.t.toning it with amazing quickness. He put it around my shoulders and let me b.u.t.ton it down.

His chest, I noticed as I b.u.t.toned, was awesome. Smooth, tan, muscular six-pack that he clearly worked for. Total stud m.u.f.fin. Brad Pitt perfect. He was gallant, an awesome specimen. And I still missed Frank. Dammit.

"What's wrong?" he asked.

"Where do I start?"

"Wherever you want to," he began patiently, then the phalanx of spa staff descended on us.

"Miss Cooley," a woman whose nametag said she was Spa Manager Gretchen spoke with a patronizing tone, putting her arm around my shoulder and trying to direct me back through the spa doors. I stopped outside. "We are so sorry you got upset. You should have told one of us you were claustrophobic."

"I'm not claustrophobic!"

"She just didn't like the kelp," Valka told her boss, shaking her head at me. "You should not have such a closed mind. The toxins you lock in your body will kill you."

"What's going to kill me are the men you let in the room who wanted to fling me out the window!"

"Men?" The Marlboro Man asked in a quiet, hard voice. His face darkened, and he looked really upset, more than he should for a mere stranger. I was touched, but before I could say thank you, he pushed through the spa doors and disappeared.

Meanwhile, Gretchen, Valka and the two other spa women who'd appeared shared a look that said I was crazy. Valka tsked. "I should not have turned on the whales."

"The whales?" Gretchen blurted. Valka nodded. Gretchen turned to me. "We need to get rid of the whale song. We've had some trouble with it causing hallucinations."

"I didn't hallucinate being blindfolded, groped and threatened to be thrown into the sea."

"Groped, sure, she wishes," one of the spa a.s.sistants, Moira, muttered.

"Look," I said. "Call security. If Valka didn't let the bad guys out the back door, then they are still in the spa somewhere."

Valka straightened her spine until she was four inches taller. "I let no one in or out!"

"Okay," I said as Gretchen called security. "Let's go find them, then. I will show you what happened."

"Don't you want to wait until your boyfriend comes back?" Moira asked.