Final Sail: A Dead-End Job Mystery by Elaine Viets

Author:Elaine Viets [Viets, Elaine]
Language: eng
Format: epub, mobi
Tags: General, Women Sleuths, Mystery & Detective, Fiction
ISBN: 9781101585368
Google: a9GUY0upkuEC
Amazon: B0072NZZPI
Publisher: An Obsidian Mystery
Published: 2012-05-01T04:00:00+00:00

CHAPTER 20

Helen’s two-way radio crackled as she was smoothing the duvet in the Paradise stateroom.

“Main salon head needs attention,” Mira said.

“Roger that,” Helen said.

Again? The yacht hadn’t even left port and this was the third time Helen had cleaned that head. Pepper had used it again. Helen recognized her candy pink lipstick on the discarded tissues. The flossy blonde was not a good sailor. She would earn those emeralds.

Helen grabbed her cleaning caddy, slipped on another pair of disposable gloves, bolted through the secret passage and sprinted up the crew mess steps to the on-deck head.

She was greeted by chaos. Pepper must have showered in the marble sink. Water was splashed on the floor, the mirror, even the hand-carved wall sconces. Helen brushed the toilet bowl, wiped the sink and carefully blotted the droplets off the hand-painted wallpaper. Both hand towels were streaked with mascara and lipstick. She replaced them. That made six towels in an hour—for one head. No wonder the crew did laundry eighteen hours a day.

She emptied the wastebasket and wiped the fingerprints off the light switch. Pepper had washed her hands with the Bvlgari soap bar, so Helen opened a fresh one—the third bar so far—and pocketed the damp bar, used once. It smelled heavenly. She hoped she got to use it in the bath she shared with Louise.

She surveyed the room and mentally went through her checklist. She’d missed something. Toilet paper! She folded the tissue into a neat point. Done.

The yacht hummed and rocked slightly. Helen wondered how long before it hit the six-foot waves. On the way back downstairs, Helen caught a glimpse of the port at night. The lights sparkled like jewels and the stars were diamonds on black velvet. The water was smooth and black as obsidian.

She wished Phil were here with her to enjoy the view. Her wistful longing was interrupted by the padded sound of shoes on the thick carpet. Guests! She mustn’t be seen. Helen picked up her caddy and disappeared down the stairs to finish the turndown service for the Paradise stateroom.

Scotty had unpacked his own luggage, and Helen wished he’d let her do it. He’d scattered cigar ashes over the carpet and desk and used a porcelain vase for an ashtray. She hoped the vanilla air freshener would disguise the cigar odor and it wouldn’t seep into the other rooms.

Bimini was next. Scrawny little Ralph Randolph was a big slob. He’d spilled champagne on the built-in dresser. Helen gave Mira a frantic radio call and the head stewardess told her how to fix the damage to the oak finish.

Ralph’s bathroom habits would shame a pig. Helen guessed she should be grateful Mrs. R. seemed neat. Her husband made enough mess for two people.

She wondered if she could get a minute to call her sister. She was worried the blackmailer would call Kathy again and demand more money. Her sister panicked every time he called. Last time she’d insisted Helen fly to St. Louis because Kathy was scared to leave the cash on the Dumpster.

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