LITMIR.BIZ

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the most enthusiastic failure of a gourmet chef she’d ever known. “What are you fixing?”

      “Daube de boeuf and coq au vin.”

      She smiled. “Mac and cheese again?”

      “You got it.”

      “Okay. I’ll be there as soon as I can.”

      “Piper,” he said after a moment’s hesitation. “We should...talk.”

      A clammy feeling settled in her stomach. “Why? What? Is it Mom?”

      “Your mother is perfectly fine and getting along with the inmates. She would tell you to stop fussing, too.”

      “So what is it, then?” Was he going to be arrested?

      “I’m just running off at the mouth, is all. Thinking about the things you’re missing, working so hard.”

      “It won’t be for long.” A little flame of excitement leapt up in her heart. “I have some news. I’ll tell you tonight.”

      “We’ll trade news, then. I’ve got some, too.”

      The excitement edged into fear. “Uncle Bo...”

      “Would you look at the time?” He breathed noisily into the phone. “‘I wasted time, and now doth time waste me.’”

      “Richard the Second,” she said automatically. “Don’t leave me wondering.”

      But he already had, as the dial tone testified. Her uncle could never be induced to end a conversation normally like the rest of the civilized world. When he’d spoken his mind, he disconnected.

      But not before she’d heard the worry in his voice, and Uncle Boris knew a thing or two about worry. Cheerful and charming as he was, he loved his sister deeply, and watching her lose her husband to infidelity and struggle to raise Piper had been unbearable. Too much for one man, one family. A bus driver with a history of bad investments, he’d started up a little business of his own to help his struggling sister and niece. It turned out he was a much better thief than bus driver.

       Don’t worry, Uncle Bo. I’m going to take care of us. I promise.

      Fighting back the prickles that would not stop surfacing on her skin, Piper slunk out into the night.

      * * *

      CY SAT UP, disoriented, in the darkened reception room. The sound of shuffling feet had woken him from his cat nap. The out-of-place horror of a digital clock showed eleven-thirty. A figure in white drifted down the hallway.

      It was possible he was dreaming, but since he usually dreamed about surfing, he was inclined to think he wasn’t. He crept closer to the row of windows that looked out on the hallway. The figure had exited onto the deck, home to the massive paddle wheel now behind a clear plastic shield to protect passengers from spray. The paddle wheel was still, the place eerily quiet. Why the figure didn’t turn on a light was beyond him.

      As if hearing his thoughts, the slender figure lit a lantern, the old-fashioned kind with a candle inside and a sturdy iron handle. He crept down the hallway, his bare feet silent on the wood floor. Emerging onto the Saloon Deck, he turned to the woman in white, his attention riveted. The lantern light shone on her pale face and delicate features, the eyes he knew were green, though he could not make out the color in the dim light. She wore a vintage wedding dress with lace around the neck and a delicate wisp of veil pinned to her long hair.

      “Piper,” he breathed.

      She couldn’t hear him, of course, and his own wildly beating heart was deafening. He remembered his sister’s advice. Run, Cy. Run. He edged backward as a man in black stepped out of the shadows. He looked vaguely familiar.

      Piper whispered something, which he didn’t catch, more a sob than a statement.

      “I won’t let you betray me or anyone else ever again.” The man grabbed Piper by the throat and began to choke her.

      “You’re hurting me,” she gasped.

      A fine red mist swam in front of Cy’s eyes. Every nerve, every muscle decided on a course of action in the space of a moment. He did not think; he merely reacted.

      Cy tackled the guy, knocking him away from Piper. He struck out at Cy, who ducked and delivered a solid punch to the man’s nose.

      The guy grunted, swiping at his nose with his sleeve. “I don’t know who you are,” he spat, “but you’re making a mistake.”

      “Don’t touch her. Ever,” Cy growled between clenched teeth.

      The man backed up to the railing. Cy’s rational mind noticed he was wearing a tuxedo, but his rage was still in charge. The man dealt a blow that glanced off the side of Cy’s face. Cy dove for him, and the momentum carried the stranger over the railing.

      “No!” Piper yelled.

      Too late. Though Cy tried to catch him, Tuxedo Man fell overboard and splashed into the cove below. Cy got a good look at his face as he toppled. It was Carson Spooley, the big-shot concierge guy. Certain details began to cement together. The tuxedo, a top hat lying on the deck, Piper in a wedding dress. Carson Spooley, the showbiz guy. Uh-oh.

      “What did you do?” Piper shrilled.

      “I didn’t...” he started.

      Piper Brindle clambered up the rail, straddling the top bar. One second later, after an anguished look at Cy, she dove neatly into the ocean below.

       CHAPTER THREE

      “PIPER!” CY RUSHED to the railing. He knew she swam like a barracuda, but in that wedding getup, in these murky waters? Stripping off his jacket, he prepared to dive, but a uniformed young man caught him by the legs, dragging him down to the decking.

      “Hey, man, it’s not worth it. Things’ll look better in the morning.”

      “I’m not suicidal. Two people just went overboard,” he said, shaking the kid off and leaping to his feet.

      They both peered over the side.

      “Piper,” the man called. “You all right?”

      Piper shouted back.

      “Yeah,” the young man said. “She’s got him by the waist, and she’s swimming around to the other side so they can climb up to the gangplank.”

      Relief chugged through Cy.

      The young man turned a suspicious glare on him. “Did you have something to do with this, pal? We’ve got a brig, you know.”

      There was indeed a makeshift brig on the boat, Cy had discovered. It was a remnant from the days when the navy had commandeered the River King to serve as barracks for soldiers during the Second World War. They’d been constructing the underwater net that covered the mouth of San Francisco Bay to thwart submarines.

      “It was an accident.”

      The fellow did not appear convinced until Piper returned to the deck with her erstwhile groom, his black hair curling into wet tendrils around his face.

      “I’ll grab some towels,” the uniformed man said as he dashed off.

      Spooley studied Cy, dripping water as he did so. Cy’s stomach sank to his shoes. An apology was in order, most likely.

      “Uh, Mr. Spooley? I’m not sure what to say.”

      Spooley’s eyes narrowed. “Aren’t you the decorator?”

      “Well...”

      Piper stood next to him, glaring. “He was helping me.”

      Cy closed his mouth and murmured, “Looked to me like he was hurting you.”

      “That’s

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