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.I saw her white bun over the tops of their heads, and I realized that she was rather tall, too, but age and probably osteoporosis had her stooped over slightly.“Mrs.Wheeler! I’ll find you,” I said.“We’ll talk again.” She didn’t turn around.I trotted across the blacktop parking lot and joined Mike at the base of the gangway.We were greeted by a couple of young twenty-somethings dressed identically in black slacks, white tuxedo shirts, and black bow ties.The woman was petite with straight black hair, and the guy looked like a frat boy.He was the one with the metal detector and he joked with Mike about almost missing the boat as he wanded us.When he ran it over Mike’s legs and the thing began to squeal, I was worried that Mike might be carrying a gun, but he just lifted his pant leg to show the artificial leg, and the young man laughed nervously and waved us through.Off to one side, and wearing a walkie-talkie on his belt and a wire to his ear, stood a tall, thin, once-blond and now balding guy.He looked like he was some kind of head honcho.He wore a blue oxford shirt and a beige tie that matched his pants, giving him an aging preppie look.He paced the dock, checking out all the passengers, and as his chest was almost concave and his posture so hunched forward, he looked like he had to keep moving or else he’d fall on his face.I wondered what his role was, and if he could be Thompson.The gangway took us into the darkened casino located on the lowest of the three decks.We were directed to climb to the top deck, where the buffet was spread out.As we climbed the stairs, Mike started whistling the theme song from Gilligan’s Island, and I punched him in the arm and said, “Don’t forget why we’re here, Gilligan.Remember, my friend Molly’s sitting in the Broward County jail.”On the top deck, the crowd was bigger than I expected.The bar was doing excellent business, and the atmosphere was that of a party that hadn’t quite started yet.A young guy at an electronic keyboard with a laptop computer on a stand just above it was playing a Jimmy Buffett tune.I wasn’t sure which keyboard was producing most of the music.He had a habit that, after five minutes, I was already beginning to find quite annoying: winking, pointing to audience members, and shouting out “Who’s yo daddy?” in the middle of a song.The upper deck had a hardtop cover over the mid-ships section, while aft were tables and chairs out under the stars.Roll-down curtains with cracked and scratched plastic window panels protected the midships area from rain and wind, but no longer provided any visibility.Over the bar and around the musician’s stage, they’d hung little strings of Christmas lights, and with the Corona sign over the bar, the decor reminded me of a cheesy Mexican restaurant.If only the food looked that good.I told Mike about my encounter with Mrs.Wheeler.“Now, I guess she thinks I’m in the enemy camp because I’m patronizing the casino gambling boats.”He’d heard of her.I guess most people who had worked for the county or the city knew about her activism.“She was always a walker” Mike said.“I don’t know how old she is, but I think she’s lived in Fort Lauderdale all her life.You know, like back when it was really just a little pioneer town.She used to walk all over town then, and she still does today, some seventy or eighty years later.Now you see her mostly down along the Riverfront.She’s always around, watching the river traffic.All the FLPD cops know her.”“She was there, Mike, the morning Nick was shot.I saw her in front of the Downtowner just before it happened.She said she saw the car with the shooter.”“Well, she shouldn’t be hard to find.First thing tomorrow.I’ll make some calls.” Mike’s eyes shifted focus and he began staring at something behind me with an amused look on his face.I turned around to see what had caught his attention.The singer Mr.“Who’s yo daddy?” was in deep conversation with the ship’s captain, Richard Hunter.There was no mistaking either that it was Janet’s brother Richard— due to the steel wool-covered head—or that he was the captain, due to his dress whites and gold epaulettes.The thing that was making both me and Mike have to cover our mouths lest we burst out laughing was that perched atop that granite dome was an enormous black Stetson.And, Richard was just plugging in a cord to the tail end of a fat and gaudy twelve-string acoustic guitar.“Ladies and gentlemen,” the singer said into the microphone in his best imitation of a smooth-voiced DJ.“We have a treat for you tonight.Before piloting us out to the three-mile limit, Captain Richard Hunter would like to sing a special number just for you, ‘You’ve Got to Fall to Learn to Fly.’ Let’s have a big round of applause for Captain Hunter!”His voice actually wasn’t half bad, but he tried so hard to get the country twang just right, it was impossible to understand what he was singing.The only words I could make out were “Jesus” and “Lord.” Those got repeated pretty often, so I figured I got the gist of it.The applause was much louder when he finished than when he had begun.The sad part was that Captain Richard didn’t seem to get it.He really thought they liked his performance.Most of the folks onboard cared more about gambling than listening to music, especially if the music was reminding them that some considered gambling a sin.They were clapping for the captain to quit singing and take the boat out.It was past 7:45.Mike and I stood at the rail sipping our beers and watched as the little ship finally pulled away from the dock and the captain spun her around 180 degrees in her own length.A couple of deckhands worked the lower deck fore and aft, and I figured if one of them was Thompson, I wouldn’t really have access to him as a passenger.For all I knew, our Thompson could be the ship’s engineer.I would definitely have to venture into some off-limits places if I wanted to meet everyone who worked aboard.“Hey, I’m gonna get something to eat,” Mike said.He grabbed a Styrofoam plate and headed right into the buffet line.Now, I have never been on a cruise ship in my life, but I have heard stories, and I have seen cruise ships depicted on television, and this did not resemble anything remotely like those buffets.I didn’t think there was anyone on earth less picky about food than me, but Mike, bachelor that he was, proved me wrong [ Pobierz całość w formacie PDF ]