The Chocolate Pirate Plot (22 page)

T
he first pirate was dressed like the one who had boarded Joe's boat back in June, but it wasn't the same man. Not unless he'd put on several pounds over the summer. This one had quite a paunch.

No, he might have the black beard, the bandana, and the golden earring, but he wasn't nearly as sexy as the other pirate had been. Definitely not the same guy.

Of course, I might have thought that because I was convinced the first pirate had been Hal Weldon, and Hal was dead.

The pirate spun around on one leg in a dance move. Then he cried out, “Aha, me hearties! Shiver me timbers!” He began to prance around, but he didn't do any handstands or make any other athletic moves. He did have a certain pizzazz, but he definitely wasn't athletic enough to walk on his hands on the gunwale of Joe's boat.

People were applauding him, and the applause grew as two more pirates came over the stern. Again there was a sexy pirate queen, accompanied by a smaller pirate who carried a pipe. The piper began to pipe, and the costumed girl began to dance. I thought she was the same pirate queen who had boarded us on Midsummer's Eve. I concentrated on watching their performance.

The yacht had quite an advantage over Joe's boat. The entertainers had room to move around vigorously, and they did. The girl not only danced; she did round-offs and aerial cartwheels. The piper lost the tune a couple of times, but he kicked up his heels enthusiastically.

I looked at him critically. Was this the same guy who had played the pennywhistle aboard Joe's boat?

But it didn't matter. The first pirate had disappeared back down the companionway that led to the swim platform, so the pirate queen and the piper had the aft deck all to themselves. They were having fun. All the passengers and crew were having fun. Or so I thought. I looked around for crew members. I could see the captain and another crew member up on the top deck—they were leaning over the railing to see the show. The reporters who had been in the main salon were up there, too. Will was standing at the back of the aft deck, near Brenda and Tracy. They were clapping in time to the music. Aunt Nettie, Joe—they were laughing together. Hogan and the stranger were near each other. I saw them exchanging a look, but they were both grinning.

Who wasn't there?

It was Byron, I realized. There was no sign of him. But that was just from my point of view. The yacht was so large that Byron might have had a wonderful spot for watching the performance.

The antics went on for around five minutes before the lead pirate, the first one over the railing, reappeared. He waved his arms and called for silence.

Then he spoke in a raspy pirate-type voice. “Bring out the treasure!”

The queen and the piper ran back down the companionway to the swim platform. Standing up so that I could get a view of what was going on, I could see that their inflatable boat was tied up there. The two lifted out a large box decorated to look like a pirate chest. A fourth pirate had stayed in the inflatable, and he helped them lift it; it seemed to be quite heavy.

The three of them carried the chest up to the aft deck, seeming to stagger under its weight. Then, with flourishes from all four pirates, they opened the lid.

A dozen helium balloons floated out.

Yes, it got a big laugh from all of us.

They proceeded to do several more stunts with the box. A half dozen pigeons flew out, and the pirates all jumped back and two of them did pratfalls. They put the girl in it, waved a colorful cloth around, and tried to get her to disappear. Except that she didn't. We all laughed hard at that. They produced necklaces and other jewelry from the chest—the type that people bring home from Mardi Gras—and they threw them to all of us. I caught a purple one, then a gold, and draped them around my neck. Aunt Nettie caught red and blue beads.

It was by far the most elaborate pirate show that I'd heard of all summer. It went on longer and had more parts and involved props—the chest, the birds, the balloons, the beads—that the other boardings hadn't used. It also had more people performing. But after all, the large yacht gave them more room. It was logical that they were using it.

It was probably ten minutes before the pirate queen ceremoniously closed the lid to the chest, did another cartwheel, and skipped lightly down the aft companionway. She got into the inflatable and held it steady. The two men carried the chest down to the dinghy and loaded it aboard. While they were doing this, the pirate king did a few more dance moves and yelled, “Yo-ho-ho!” He didn't board the inflatable until its outboard motor roared.

We were all cheering as the boat sped off. The only odd thing was that after about a quarter mile, the pirates cut their running lights. Basically, they disappeared into the dark. This is not legal, but none of us called the Coast Guard.

Hogan was standing near Aunt Nettie and me. “Hey,” I said, “if there's any reason you want to know where those guys go, the captain of this thing could watch them on radar.”

Hogan smiled smugly. “We've thought of that.”

“I guess it doesn't matter,” I said, “since they don't seem to commit any crimes during their escapades.”

“Yes, but when people are running around my town in disguise, I always like to know who they are.”

It was at precisely that moment when the man I didn't know, the one who had been muttering with Hogan off and on for the whole cruise, leaned over the fly-deck railing and called out.

“Hogan! We need you up here.”

Hogan took off up the companionway at top speed. I craned my neck, trying to see what was going on up there, and Joe did, too.

By that time it was pretty dark. Only a narrow band of orange remained in the western sky.

There were lights all over the yacht, of course, but we were out on Lake Michigan. Outdoors, that is. Even good lighting doesn't seem to illuminate things outdoors. There are no walls for light to bounce off to enclose it. Even bright lighting seems to be soaked up by the darkness that surrounds it outdoors.

I looked up at the fly deck, and I couldn't see a thing. And suddenly I was frightened. I grabbed Joe's arm. “Where's Byron?”

“Byron?” He sounded surprised. “Why do you want Byron?”

“I just want to be sure he's all right.”

“All right? Why shouldn't he be all right?”

I shook my head. “Maybe he's still at the bar.”

I went into the lower salon and took the companionway up to the main salon. The reporters were gathered around the bar, and for a moment I felt reassured. Byron must be handing out drinks. Then heads parted, and I saw that Will was acting as bartender.

I went over to the bar. “Will! Where's Byron?”

“I don't know. He disappeared, the jerk. The steward told me to take over. I don't know what I'm doing.”

I briefly felt sorry for him. Will had always done mechanical jobs. He'd worked with cars, and now with boats. He definitely wasn't the waiter-bartender type.

“Let me look for Byron for a moment,” I said. “Then I'll come and help you.”

Will's glance was grateful.

I turned around to see Hogan come partway down the interior companionway from the fly deck and gesture to Joe. When Joe approached him, they conferred. Joe shook his head. I couldn't hear what Joe said, but I could hear an angry voice from up above. It sounded like Charles Oxford.

We must have some mechanical problem. That would infuriate any yacht builder. Here he takes the press out on the snazzy new yacht, and it develops a glitch. I might have laughed if it hadn't been for the scared feeling in the pit of my stomach.

But why should I be scared? Even if we had a mechanical problem, the yacht was perfectly safe. This was no sleazy tramp steamer registered in some Podunk country. This was one of the most technically advanced boats in the world, loaded with safety features.

I kept looking for Byron. I checked the gym, the staterooms, the galley. I ran up and down companionways and back and forth on decks. I looked behind furniture—feeling stupid—and under plants. I walked up the companionway leading to the fly deck. I didn't quite have the nerve to go up there and join the mechanical crew. I stopped with my head just above the level of the floor and counted heads. I saw no one but crew members, Hogan, Joe, and Hogan's pal. They all looked concerned. I came down and looked some more.

It crossed my mind that I might find Byron in an embarrassing position, and he wouldn't appreciate my search. But I kept searching anyway.

But I didn't find our wimpy pal anywhere.

I finally decided I was going to have to ask someone about him.

Who? Charles Oxford was in charge, of course, but I could still hear his voice rumbling unhappily up on the fly deck. In fact, the whole crew seemed to be up there—plus Hogan, Joe, and Hogan's friend.

Then I saw the blond public relations guy. He was still shepherding press around. I boldly walked into the group and touched his arm. He whipped his head around, surprised.

“Sorry to bother you,” I said. “I have a rather important question.”

That's one of the advantages of being tall. When you act firm, people tend to obey. I led him away from the press corps and introduced myself.

He grinned. “I'm Daren Roberts,” he said. “I'm with Majestic Studios.”

I nodded. “I wondered if you know where Byron is.”

“Byron?” His voice was wary.

I tried to make my voice firm. “Byron.”

“Oh, I'm sure he's around somewhere.”

“Yes, I'm sure he is. But where is that somewhere? Frankly, I've looked all over the craft.”

“Why do you need to know?”

“I'm uneasy about his safety.”

Daren Roberts and I looked into each other's eyes for a long moment. Then he spoke. “What did he tell you?”

“He didn't tell me anything, but I'm a good guesser.”

He laughed derisively.

“And,” I said, “my thirteen-year-old niece insisted that I read a magazine with lots of old pictures in it.”

The derisive laugh turned to a cough.

“So where is he?”

He whispered. “He could be locked in the main cabin with a nubile young woman.”

“I looked there. Plus, the only nubile young women on board are my stepsister and her friend, and they're both standing right over there with my aunt.”

“Oh.” Daren looked around the salon. “Well, I'm sure everything is all right. But I'll look for him.”

I had to be content with that for the moment. Daren walked off, looking worried, and I joined Brenda and Tracy.

Tracy leaned close to me. “Is there some problem with the boat?”

“Maybe, but I'm sure it's not serious.”

“Will says it's something with the radar.”

“Could be.”

Brenda's eyes were big. “It's not . . . not dangerous, is it?”

I smiled at her. “Well, they haven't broken out the lifeboats.”

That didn't seem to reassure her, so I patted her arm. “Brenda, people sailed all over the oceans for thousands of years without radar. As long as we have a compass, we can find the shore. We're only a few miles out.”

“Miles?”

“Maybe two or three. To get home we go straight east until we see a light, okay? Then the captain knows where he is, and we head north or south until he sees the lighthouse at the entrance to the Warner River. We still have lights. Nothing's been said about the radio being out. We're fine.”

She nodded. “I knew everything was all right.”

“After all, this is a test cruise. The equipment is still being broken in.”

But that radar ought to be working, I knew. I didn't say anything more.

Joe came down from the fly deck then. He was frowning. I grabbed him as he went by.

“What's the problem?” I said.

Joe lowered his voice. “The radar's gone out.”

“So they weren't able to figure out where the pirates went.”

“Among other things.”

He moved, but I kept hold of his arm.

“Have they found Byron?”

“I didn't know anyone was looking for him.”

“I have been. He hasn't been around since the pirates left.”

“So?”

“Oh, come on, Joe! Surely Hogan told you.”

“Told me what?”

“Byron!”

“What about him?”

“Joe! Byron is Marco Spear!”

J
oe laughed. “Okay, Lee! You got it. But don't get too excited.”

“Why not?”

“He hasn't fallen overboard.”