Bimini Twist Read online

  I knew that Earl was protecting the reputation of the Academy by defending one of its highest potentials. I knew the military-school mindset—officers and gentlemen. But I also knew that I could not ignore the fact that two young people had been reported missing, and that they may have The Princess in common. I had a gut feeling that Bianca was enjoying her cruise from Franklin’s stateroom. The delay in Franklin’s homecoming was easily explained. He had volunteered to stay on port duty to get more time with Bianca. Not that there was any harm done. But I would like to follow this through until Bianca was no longer of the missing status.

  I would call the sheriff and explain that I needed to go to Rockland. I had no intention of being the buzz killer for the two kids. But I did take seriously the accusations of Bianca’s roommate who had stated that when another foreign, visa-ed girl was reported missing, nobody responded. She did have a point. President Smith and the Averys were all-consumed with Franklin’s tardiness. They would insist on leaving no stone unturned if he hadn’t texted. Everyone in Bianca’s world was back to work by now. And I assumed they had not heard from her. When she found her way ashore and back to Bar Harbor, she would confess all. And it would sound like fun and an adventure. And her friends would scold her while asking for more details of her stowing away with the handsome cadet engineer. “Will there be anything else?” President Smith asked. “I really appreciate your quick response to my call. Please thank the sheriff for me, won’t you?”

  “Okay. Will do.”

  “Allow me to walk you to your car,” he said politely.

  “Of course.” I waited for President Smith to lead the way from his office and down the corridor lined with pictures of past Dirigo presidents: some in suits and ties and others in military garb boasting medals of significance unknown to me. “This is quite a school, President Smith. I have heard great things about the opportunities afforded to your graduates.”

  “Please, call me Earl,” he said as he opened and held the exit door for me. “Yes, I have been here for three years, and am still pinching myself. We are so fortunate to have an amazing faculty. And our reputation for placing graduates in the shipping industry has made our application process highly competitive.”

  We walked side by side on stone pavers that weaved around and through the campus toward the visitor parking area. I stopped to admire one particularly lush garden. I know a rose from a daisy from a tulip—but I am far from a horticulturist. This section of the campus gardens was bright yellow. As if sensing my curiosity, President Smith pointed out specifics by name. “Those trumpet-shaped flowers are Allamanda. Can you smell their fruitiness? And those are Yellow Elders, the national flower of the Bahamas.” I smiled and nodded with interest and appreciation as we continued along the pavers. “And this area honors Eastern Europe,” he said as we stopped to take in the dense purple-and-blue, delicate-looking flowers. “Siberian Iris. Aren’t they perfect? And the white clusters are baby’s breath.”

  “I am impressed,” I said honestly. “My compliments to the groundskeeping team.”

  “We have a healthy percentage of foreign students here. We do our best to make them feel less estranged.” I thought that was a nice sentiment, but a strange choice of words. “You can well imagine what it might be like for kids from Malaysia, Turkey, Romania, or the Bahamas to be in small-town Maine for four years when the rest of our student body is from less than one hundred miles from campus.”

  “Yes, I can understand the importance of making everyone feel welcome and less homesick,” I said.

  “Not to mention the money that comes to Dirigo from these relationships. Many countries have a navy, but no maritime academy,” he said as he looked at his watch and picked up the pace. “And as most merchant shipping is foreign flagged, we enjoy the ability to place cadets, such as Franklin Avery, aboard for invaluable training. This is stuff that can’t be taught in the classroom.”

  “Well, there’s my car,” I said when we reached the fringe of the parking lot. “Thanks for the tour. Please let me know when Franklin returns to school, won’t you?” I handed him a card with my name and cell number and watched as he turned and headed back toward campus.

  A soon as I was seated in the Duster, I pulled out my phone and called the station to update Franklin’s status to no-longer-missing. Deloris answered, clearly having checked caller ID. “Okay, what’s your theory?”

  “Hi, Deloris,” I said and chuckled at her blunt greeting. “My theory on what?” I asked.

  “Your theory on Bianca. You need to tell me everything if you expect me to do my job to the best of my ability—which is substantial.”

  “Let’s start with this,” I said. “The missing Dirigo student, Franklin Avery, has been found aboard The Princess of the Seas, where his training cruise was extended. The Princess is the last known destination of Bianca. She was meeting a friend. I think she and Franklin are shacked up in his stateroom.”

  “Oh, yeah. That makes sense. So, where does Peter Alfond fit in?”

  “Red herring, I guess,” I said, hoping Deloris would dish up a bit of Pete’s personal history to bolster my interest. “Why? What did you learn?”

  “Well, I just found it interesting that Peter Alfond’s name was handwritten in the margin of the police report you asked me to find for the missing girl last year.”

  FOUR

  I stopped breathing for a second as I digested what Deloris had said. “So I thought you were on to something. But if you have solved the mystery of the missing Romanian, we will close this case. Quite a coincidence, though.”

  “Bianca hasn’t been located yet,” I said as I tried to make sense of why Pete had not mentioned last year’s missing girl, assuming that he had been questioned. How else could the appearance of his name on the report be explained? I wondered. “Fill me in on the report from last year,” I said, hoping that Deloris would not detect the slight shade of angst in my voice.

  “It states her name, and that she was in Bar Harbor working on the same student visa as Bianca. She was a student at the University of Turkey. That’s the whole report.” Deloris slapped her desk, the sound reverberating through the phone line, then continued. “Azra Demir, A-Z-R-A, D-E-M-I-R. There is no file other than the police report, so I assume that Azra was located before anyone investigated or followed up.”

  Suddenly, I had more concern for Bianca. Or, I checked myself, maybe my concern was related to the reason for Pete’s name to have been involved. “Dig a little deeper on Azra,” I said. “And please find an itinerary for The Princess of the Seas. She left Bar Harbor this morning and is heading to Rockland. She should arrive there soon. But according to the no-longer-missing cadet, he will not make landfall until Saturday.”

  “Okay, that sounds fishy,” Deloris said as I heard her jotting notes through the phone. “And if you’re correct, the Avery kid is buying time with the girl, right?”

  “Yes, that makes the most sense. Were you able to get a passenger list?” I asked.

  “Yup. And I have a comprehensive crew list that includes names from master to ordinary seamen. And I have a long list of other personnel that runs the gamut from ship’s steward to housekeeping—many names I can’t pronounce. But I can confirm that the majority of the scullery team are students from Eastern Europe. I found copies of all visas. And I can also confirm that Franklin Avery was employed as an apprentice engineer, and that his sea time terminated yesterday. And just to ease your mind about Bianca’s possible trip to Cuba, the Radiance employs folks from Central and South America pretty much exclusively in the galley and housekeeping.”

  Oh, I thought. There was almost no chance that Bianca’s friend was employed aboard Radiance. That was important to eliminate as a possibility, I knew. It was now clear that my efforts would be focused on The Princess, whose housekeeping duties were all performed by kids from Eastern Europe. “What did you find in your research on the owners of the boats I asked about? Elizabeth and Insight—anything that might be of inter
est to a somewhat bored detective on restrictive duty?” I asked playfully, intentionally leaving Pete out of the list, which I was certain did not go unnoticed by the very sharp and perceptive Deloris.

  “Nothing significant,” Deloris replied. “Unless you are curious about the fact that the Coast Guard received a Mayday call from Elizabeth just a few hours ago. The call was cancelled and the boat has been reported as a total loss. Coincidence?” I held my tongue when it wanted to ask, “Already?” Instead of interjecting, I waited patiently for Deloris to divulge anything else she might have learned. “The owner of Insight is an unsavory character. Name’s Larry Vigue. He’s been arrested on domestic assault charges, public intoxication, and has outstanding warrants for unpaid fines for indecent exposure,” Deloris added a bit of commentary, “which is usually associated with relieving oneself in public when intoxicated. His record goes back to the seventies when he was suspected of running drugs, but was never convicted.”

  I took this all in, and was not at all surprised by Deloris’s findings. Again, we both waited for the other to say something. I outlasted my associate again. She continued. “There’s nothing on Ronald Thomas, the owner of the unfortunate Elizabeth. Nothing of an arrest record. Looks to be a straight shooter,” Deloris said. “And other than his name on the police report last year, Peter Alfond is the nephew of the Alfonds. Now if you don’t find that intriguing, I’ll have to check you for a pulse.”

  I realized that I needed to be forthright with Deloris if I expected her to know what she was digging for and why. She had already made connections, so there was no sense keeping anything from her. Besides, I knew I had nothing other than loose ends that could easily be explained as coincidence. And, I reminded myself, Deloris and I were on the same team. “As hard as this may be to believe, I met Pete Alfond this morning on the Bar Harbor waterfront. He offered me a ride out to The Princess as he was acting as pilot boat and transporting the ship’s pilot out. I learned nothing from the ship’s steward that might help with locating Bianca. Pete heard and responded to the Mayday from Elizabeth with me on board. By the time we reached the scene, it was too late to do anything other than pick a nearly drowned captain out of the drink.”

  “Well, that explains why you needed info on two of the boats’ captains. But what about Larry Vigue? And the Insight?” Deloris was quick to note that I had left something out of my brief explanation.

  Should I let it go, as advised by Pete and Ron? Or do I confide in my counterpart, asking her to keep it under the radar for now? Of course I did the right thing, and filled in the blanks for my loyal coworker, whom I trusted implicitly. “I am fairly certain that Larry Vigue rammed and sank the Elizabeth.”

  “Motive? Evidence?”

  “The evidence is in tight-lipped eyewitnesses who are more interested in retaliation than they are justice. And there’s hard evidence on the bottom of the ocean,” I said. “Motive? Well, Pete and Ron passed it off as just another chapter in the gear wars that are unending. But that does not ring true with me.”

  “It’s common knowledge that the guys who fish this part of the Maine coast are brutal,” Deloris said. “How credible was Pete Alfond?”

  I fought the urge to reply with “Incredible,” with regards to my first impression of Captain Alfond. Instead, I decided that full transparency was necessary if I expected my working relationship with Deloris to continue to be successful. I took a deep breath and said, “I’ll let you know after our date on Friday. I’m meeting him at his family’s party.”

  “Wow! So I am now surfing every source—beyond a criminal search,” Deloris remarked as I imagined her fingers flying around her computer’s keyboard. “Nice picture. Looks to be single. Never married at age forty-seven—some might see that as a red flag.” Deloris was enjoying this, I knew. I was hesitant to stop her, as I was indeed curious to know all she could find prior to my date. But when Deloris hacked into his college transcript, I had to interject.

  “Okay, enough. I don’t think this is pertinent to the case.”

  “What case?” Deloris asked. “The case of the missing Bianca? Missing Franklin Avery? Boat sinking?”

  Again, I was tempted to mention the only case at hand, which was a head case—mine—and created by Pete Alfond’s name and how it related to the missing girl from last year. “None of the above. Poor choice of word. There is no case. Besides, unless someone is pressing charges, the boat sinking was an accident that I will no doubt be assigned to investigate wearing my other hat,” I said, referring to my part-time work as a marine insurance investigator. “And the case of the missing lovers will be cracked as soon as the lovebirds run out of energy.”

  “Speaking of lovebirds,” Deloris said teasingly.

  “Stop!” I cut her off. “Can you get details on The Princess’s itinerary? It seems strange that Franklin Avery will not be coming ashore until Saturday. I watched the ship leave Bar Harbor today when I was there.”

  “Done. Way ahead of you, girlfriend.” Deloris was back to business, which was a relief. “The official itinerary that is registered with Cruise Lines International Association has The Princess of the Seas weighing anchor in Bar Harbor today at noon, which you witnessed. Correct?” I answered “yes” and waited for more. “And this indicates arrival in Rockland Saturday morning at oh six hundred.”

  “Well that makes no sense,” I said. “I could paddle between Bar Harbor and Rockland in sixty hours.”

  “I wasn’t finished,” Deloris scolded. “The online brochure for this particular cruise circuit, which promises a full week on the Maine Coast, includes puffin and whale watching, and a full-blown clambake on a small, remote island. In this case, the puffins are found on Sheep Island Ledges, whales will be found on the Schoodic Ridges, and the clambake will be on the south shore of Great Duck Island.”

  “So it isn’t all about buying trinkets and T-shirts, I guess,” I said.

  “Nope! This cruise is really more family-oriented. Not the floating meat market and food fest I had always imagined,” Deloris said, her voice trailing off as I pictured her surrounded by computer monitors and keyboards. Deloris had really settled in to her position since her accident, I thought. Prior to breaking her heels in the line of duty, she was disgruntled, always complaining that her abilities were being wasted at the desk end of the job.

  “I had hoped to wrap up the missing kids sooner. But that’s not possible until Saturday. I’ll plan to be in Rockland by daylight. I want to see Franklin as he is greeted by his parents and girlfriend. And Bianca! Do young people still refer to the morning after as the walk of shame?”

  “Are you kidding? This generation has no shame. They wear their indiscretions like badges. I can’t believe I haven’t found anything on Bianca’s Facebook account,” Deloris exclaimed. “I’m not a prude, but am shocked at what some people share with the world. Whatever happened to kissing and not telling?” My silence brought another chuckle from Deloris as she added, “Oh yeah. Then there’s the throwback, Jane Bunker, who neither kisses nor tells. Want me to go to Rockland with you Saturday? You can tell me all about your date with Pete Alfond, and the Solstice Soiree.”

  “No, thank you,” I answered politely. “And it’s not a date.”

  “Really? What is it?”

  “Just part of my job. You heard the sheriff. He expects me to go to represent the department. And the appearance of Pete’s name on that missing girl’s report … That is now part of an active investigation.”

  “Right.”

  I wasn’t about to discuss the details of my growing interest in Pete Alfond with Deloris. I had to get on the road and back to Green Haven. Tomorrow was another day. And I was not excited about the direction my job had taken me in. I felt rather useless chasing missing people, and much preferred chasing drug traffickers. “Thanks, Deloris. See you tomorrow morning,” I said as I prepared to buckle my seat belt and start the Duster.

  “Have you decided what you’ll wear?”

  “Ha
ve a good night.” And with that, I hung up and pulled out of the Academy’s guest parking area and headed toward home. I bounced and rattled the length of the gauntlet-like Route 176, relieved to not hold up other vehicles this time. The sun was thinking about setting as I pulled onto Route 1 and mixed easily with other late commuters on this busy section of road that ran the length of the eastern seaboard. This day had flown by, I thought, as I realized my stomach was growling in anticipation of dinner.

  I quickly exited Route 1, taking a sharp right turn onto the peninsula whose sign promised “Green Haven—Voted Most Scenic Fishing Port.” And of the beautiful ports that I had seen to date, I had to agree that I lived in the most breathtaking. Shadows cast by thick stands of healthy spruce trees eased the squints in my eyes, and I pushed the Duster’s visor up. The breeze was cooled in its transit across the bay that flashed glints of white light, a massive paparazzi lining a red carpet event. My right arm was a bit too short to roll up the passenger side window when the air was too cool. So I put on a little heat instead, and found that to be the best of all worlds. The back of my neck was whipped lightly by windblown hair as my sunglasses, now on my head, tacked down long bangs and protected my eyes from the same lashing. My toes were perfectly toasty in open sandals with the Duster’s fan on its lowest setting. This is indeed “The Way Life Should Be,” I thought as I mentally scheduled tomorrow.

  I was always behind on paperwork. As painful as it was for me to spend a day at the desk, it was necessary. I needed to formalize all documentation of what I had done today. The documentation would be more impressive than the results of the activities recorded in the ongoing reports required. Let’s see, I thought, I started by driving to the Bar Harbor Inn and Resort where I questioned the manager about Bianca Chiriac. He was less than helpful, but not offensive or blatantly uncooperative. The manager was neither concerned nor surprised that an employee was MIA.