Once Bitten, Twice Dead Read online

  After my “accidental” bumping, the cowboy did not get angry. He had a drenched forearm sleeve, but all he said was, “I needed that shower.”

  The cowboy seemed pretty laid back. He might not mind a roommate. He hadn’t been wearing a ring, but in a bar that didn’t always mean much. He still could have a companion—male or female. At least at this bar right now, he seemed alone.

  “Sorry,” I said. I’m kind of clumsy.” This was true in general, except not in this case.

  “That’s O.K. Life’s full of accidents. This was just another one. I’m Shane Brewster, as if you care.”

  “I might care. I’m Raven.”

  “Sometimes I’m raven mad, but people just call me crazy.” Apparently Shane had had more than one tequila; maybe he had started at noon. We talked on and off. The “on” time was Shane drinking—the “off” time came when he talked to me.

  He told me he had worked for a pharmaceutical company and had participated in the discovery of a new drug for arthritis relief. The generous leader of the drug study had included Shane’s name along with his own on the research report, even though Shane was merely an assistant. Shane was now the recipient of much money, he said, coming to him when the drug went public. “So I decided to take a hiatus. I bought one of these condos and I’m cruising the world. Maybe I’m experiencing one of those hiatus hernias, but it feels good. I’m just going to keep cruisin’ without losin.’”

  Maybe I didn’t want to room with this guy. I tried to tell myself that drinking just brought out the worst in him. The good thing, though, that made my decision was that before Shane could order another drink, he started to pass out. I caught him before he fell off his stool.

  “Wassa mada? Waddya dune?”

  “I’m just helping. Let me take you home.”

  “It’s great, isn’t it? We won’t be arrested for DUI. My place is just a floor up.”

  In the elevator Shane almost collapsed again. I propped him up against a corner and then leaned against him to keep him upright. Then I practically had to carry him to Suite 208. Once inside the spectacular residence, I let go of him and he flopped on the bed and was instantly into dreamland.

  Everything inside Shane’s condo was light green—the furniture, rugs, and curtains. Apparently each resident could decorate his own place because no self-respecting company would have decorated this way. It bordered on the garish. I’d heard of the greening of America, but this was ridiculous. In his bedroom, even the borders around the flat screen TV were green.

  Shane slept for four hours while I also napped a little stretched out on the recliner in front of the TV. I started to watch a program called The Amazing Race, which was what my life was beginning to feel like. I guess twelve teams had started to race around the world, but this week they were down to five. When the program began they were all racing to the airport in some foreign land only to wait for the next six hours until it opened. Then I fell asleep, and when I woke up four of the people were climbing what looked like the Great Wall of China. Then came the fourteen straight commercials that signaled the end of the program. So much for the pleasure of TV watching.

  I tried to read a book. The one on the table by the recliner was called Case Histories by Kate Atkinson. In the first few pages, a little girl is kidnapped by an unknown person. Maybe Shane is a pervert. But the book, after all, is fiction, and actually was pretty interesting.

  When Shane finally woke up, I probably could have predicted his first response.

  “Who are you?”

  I explained that I had been sitting next to him in the bar.

  “I don’t remember. Thanks for helping me in here. Now you can get out.”

  It was time for the truth. I told him all about David Selby and his murders. I thought that would cause enough noise in Shane’s virgin ears. I didn’t tell him about the possible bomb on board.

  “So if I’m understanding you, Raven, you want to stay here until you catch this guy?”

  “You got it.”

  “O.K.”

  “What?”

  “I said O.K. It might be fun.” And he gave me a leer.

  “Not that kind of fun. I’m spoken for back in Philadelphia. I have a boyfriend.”

  “That’s all right. I’ll be part of a murder case. That’s more exciting than that boring stuff I’ve been doing in the laboratory every day. I’m ready to be your partner.”

  “Not exactly my partner. Just give me shelter while I look for the guy.”

  “Yeah, shelter. Tell me the first thing I should do, partner.”

  “Don’t call me partner.” Maybe Shane would be as much trouble as catching David.

  CHAPTER FIFTY NINE

  I slept in the spare bedroom. Maybe it was the new surroundings, or the fact that there was a bomb somewhere on the ship, but for whatever reason I didn’t sleep very well. All night I got no more than three hours of slumber. I kept trying to figure out where David would plant a bomb. And then the dream about me riding a surfboard in the middle of the Atlantic with a bomb attached to it didn’t exactly soothe my brain. I was glad to wake up.

  It seemed to me that David would want to kill as many rich people as he could. Probably he would want to sink the entire ship if he could. Where all the turbines, engines, and pipes were would be the logical place to set off the explosion.

  I looked at my watch: 6 A.M. Not too many people up and about, now. A good time to explore. I got up and walked by Shane’s bedroom. The door was open, and his bushy hair was just peeking out over the covers. He would have to sleep off yesterday’s excursion into alcohol. I slowly opened the door to Shane’s condo and looked up and down the hallway. Not a sign of any other human being. A morning paper had been slid under Shane’s door—a USA TODAY. I took the paper with me so as to appear to be a casual resident out for a little air this morning. I was sure with 250 people aboard, not everyone knew everyone else.

  I had seen on the message board at the end of the hall that today’s breakfast would be waffles, sausages and eggs. Now all I had to do was find it. Once down on the main deck I saw an arrow pointing me to the “coffee shop.” I would go there, but first I wanted to check below deck. I didn’t know how long David was going to wait before he set off the bomb. I hope he wanted to cruise a little himself before he ended his life and everyone else’s.

  There were some down stairs. I took them. They led to more down stairs. In another minute I was in what looked like the engine room. I had expected total noise, but all I could hear was a kind of whirring sound which occasionally turned into a hum.

  I would start at one end here and go through the entire room which seemed to encompass half the length of the ship. I had explored for only a minute when someone tapped me on the shoulder. “What are you doing down here?” I turned around to face a man possibly only slightly shorter and smaller than King Kong. He was wearing a white pullover and white pants. The pullover said “Security” in black letters.

  “He said, ‘What are you doing here’?”

  “I’ve always wanted to see how a big ship like this operates. My father was an engineer, and he gave me a love of machines. But I’m shocked—it’s so quiet in here: in my dad’s plant, you couldn’t hear yourself think.”

  “Yeah. Quiet. It’s a modern thing. Are you a resident here?”

  “Of course.”

  “Let me see your resident’s card.”

  “I took a chance on this guy also not knowing everyone who lived here. “I was just out for a stroll and breakfast. I left my card back in my condo.”

  “You’re told to carry that card with you at all times.”

  “I am sorry. I just forgot it.”

  “What’s your condo number?”

  “208.”

  “It’s funny I haven’t seen you around.”

  “I’m a quiet person. I stay in a lot—and read.”

  “Well, no one is allowed down here. And the next time carry your condo I.D. card with you at all times.”
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  “I will, sir. I’ll be on my way to the coffee shop now. I was trying to show my familiarity with the ship, but I don’t think the big guy was convinced. This run-in taught me that my future was not in wandering around the ship looking for bombs. One other confrontation with the big guy and I’d probably be off the ship. I’d better concentrate on trying to find David himself and stopping him.

  I did go to the coffee shop and gulped down that breakfast, even ordering an extra helping of waffles. With skipping meal after meal, I bet lately I’ve lost ten pounds. So if you want a good diet, I recommend that you chase a serial killer.

  When I got back to the room Shane was up and in his robe. “You were an early bird this morning,” he said. “Did you find your worm?”

  “No luck. But I was just thinking that maybe you wouldn’t make a bad partner.”

  “Really?”

  “Yeah, really. In fact, I already have a job for you.”

  “Good. Tell me. I’ll do it. Tell me.”

  I gave my eager apprentice my picture of David. “Filter around the ship and see if you can find this guy.”

  “What’ll I do if I find him? Should I try to capture him? My parents made me take boxing lessons when I was a kid. I’m pretty good with the fists. He held up his hands to show me he had two.

  “Shane, did you forget what I told you about this guy? He’s a serial killer. If he even suspects at all that you’re following him, he’d end your life in a second.” Now this next part I shouldn’t have said, but I did: “So very carefully follow him and tell me where he’s staying. Then I’ll do the rest.”

  “Yes, boss.”

  For three days Shane went about his appointed task using skills that maybe only he had perfected: wandering and watching. However, there was no sighting of David Selby. During this time I had been stewing in Shane’s condo. It was the first time in my life I had watched TV consistently, and I saw that I hadn’t been missing anything in life by not indulging in the Tube. I wasn’t well versed in any foreign language, so I could only watch the English language channel. There were seven other-language channels to accommodate people from all over the world. There’s only so much of The View and Dr. Phil that a person can watch before the brain becomes shredded. And those were the good programs. I did like a couple episodes of Law and Order, though. But all in all, I again praised my parents for encouraging me to read instead of spending hours in front of the box. The most important fact, though, was that in all this time, I hadn’t gotten any closer to David Selby. The awful thought hit me that maybe my guess that he was on this ship was wrong. I could now be hundreds, even thousands, of miles away from him.

  Shane was also feeling low. He had failed me as a partner. “I’m sorry, Raven—I’ve been to all parts of the ship and I haven’t seen this guy. I’ve let you down.”

  “You haven’t been to the engine room, have you?”

  “No, that’s off limits.”

  “I met a big black guy down there, and he told me that exact thing.”

  “That’s Abner. He’s the security guard, the only one. There are electric eyes and tiny security cameras all over the ship—any aberration is sent to a central command post and Abner is notified. The company that runs this ship feels that technology will keep everyone safe. How long were you down there before Abner showed up?”

  “Just a few minutes.”

  “You probably triggered a sensor and it was relayed to him.”

  Shane’s words didn’t gave me any solace because I remembered that David had told me he worked robbery detail for two years where he learned how thieves could disarm security cameras and alarms in jewelry stores or banks. Right now that bomb could be where it would do the most damage.

  Shane looked at me for a long time. “You seem sad tonight, Raven”

  “I am. Leave me alone.”

  “You don’t have to be so touchy.”

  “Keep at it, and I’ll show you how touchy I am. I’ll clean your clock.”

  “I’m just so scared. You act tough, but I think beneath all that you’re pretty soft.” He pushed his index finger into my stomach. “See—soft.” He did it again.

  “Stop it, Shane. I’m not in the mood.”

  And of course he did it again.

  I’d had it. I reached out to give him a light punch to the shoulder so he’d stop. He moved at the same time, and I hit him right on the jaw. For the first time I saw Shane angry. “You hit me!”

  He grabbed me.

  I grabbed him back, and we both fell on the bed. I cannot justify what happened next. Yes, I was depressed, frustrated, and hadn’t had sex for quite a while, but all that was still no excuse.

  Our grabbing turned to grappling, all of which turned to rolling. Suddenly the rolling stopped and our clothes began to come off.

  Yes, we did it, and then we did it again. I had no shame.

  The shame came later when I was lying next to Shane who again had fallen asleep, but this time he was sober.

  I felt so guilty. I had been a traitor to Phil. Then I spent time trying to justify it. After all, Phil and I hadn’t even had real sex, at least not much. Maybe we weren’t that close. But then the other part of my mind said that Phil and I were that close, and I had just been a total crumb.

  I hadn’t felt this guilty since I was in 7th grade and got to know a girl named Sabrina Mailer. Sabrina had no friends, but I liked her. Since the beginning of that year I had talked to her a lot and found that even though she was always quiet in larger groups, she did have a full mind of interesting thoughts.

  She had asked me to come to her birthday party. Later, he mother told me I was the only one from school who had been invited. The problem occurred the next day after the invitation when Stephanie Scorzetti called and left a message, asking me to go to a Saturday matinee movie at the exact time as Sabrina’s party. Stephanie was the most popular girl in school, and for awhile I had been jealous of that. Call me immature—I was only in 7th grade, remember—but I solved my moral dilemma with only a minute of self-debate. I called Stephanie back right away, and told her I would meet her over at her house, and we could go to the movie from there. I did call Sabrina’s mother and lied to her that I was sick. I was too ashamed to tell that to Sabrina herself, even over the phone. I then started to pal around with Stephanie, leaving Sabrina again with no friends.

  A year later, Sabrina went into the hospital with a severe case of anorexia. I told myself I wasn’t to blame if a person stopped eating. But at my deepest level I did know I was connected to Sabrina’s downward spiral.

  Now, I was lying naked next to a guy whom I didn’t care about at all, and we had just screwed each other’s brains out. It was one of the lowest points of my life, but mercifully a few minutes later I fell asleep.

  CHAPTER SIXTY

  The next morning when I woke up, as if I needed a reminder of my guilt, there was Shane’s arm draped over my left breast.

  Very quietly, I extricated myself and took a long shower. Somehow guilt does not wash off, as Lady Macbeth found out.

  When I came out of the shower without being covered with a towel, there was Shane standing there equally naked. “I just wanted to take a shower,” he said.

  “Go ahead, it’s empty now.”

  Two naked bodies passing each other in the daytime.

  Now, full clothed we both sat at Shane’s little breakfast nook sipping our coffee. We had just had an awkward five minutes where we tried to talk to each other but failed. Now I tried again.

  “Shane?”

  “Yes?”

  “We had sex last night.”

  “You are correct.”

  And then we both burst out laughing.

  This did not take my guilt away, but at least the awkwardness was gone, and an hour later Shane was out again looking for David Selby.

  Shane was usually gone for five or six hours, but today he was back in 45 minutes.

  “I found him.”

  “Don’t kid me, Shane.
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  “I did. I found him. He was at the general workout room, doing some heavy weights. I pretended to work out near him and then followed him to his condo. I’m sure he didn’t see me. The condo’s on the 4th deck—it’s number 414. What do we do now?”

  That was a good question. David had probably killed the original occupant of that condo, and if we rushed in like a couple of banshees to apprehend him, David could kill at least one of us if not both. Shane was waiting with his mouth half open as if I had every answer to every question in the world.

  I did give him something. “We’ll make a plan and capture the bastard.”

  “Oh, goody.”

  When was the last time I had heard anyone say, ‘goody’?

  Because of my concentration on trying to capture David, I had forgotten that the ship was a ship, and like all ships do, it keeps moving. After leaving the Bahamas I didn’t know what our next destination was, but I did notice two days ago that I had to shut the windows in Shane’s condo because of the cold air coming in.

  As Shane and I sat there now, not formulating a plan for capturing David Selby, I asked, “Where is our next port?”

  “You’ll love this. It’s Iceland.”

  “Iceland?”

  “Every month we vote for where we’d like to go, and the majority vote gets it. Iceland won. I voted for it. When ever would I get an opportunity to go there again?”

  “Such a splendid opportunity—to freeze my butt off.”

  “Don’t be such a spoiled sport. You might enjoy it. I have warm clothes you can wear.”

  “They’d better be warm—I get cold on a hot summer day when clouds come over.”