Blue Voyage Page 34

  “I want the balloon ride,” said Fiona. “Wouldn’t that be a dream!”

  “Booby prize, if you ask me,” said Milton. “You’ve got to buy your airfare out there. They don’t give you anything for free in this country. Everything’s got some hidden cost.”

  “What about you, Zan? What are you looking forward to about the party?” Aunt Jackie asked, trying to draw me out.

  Oh, not much. A successful sting operation. Clarity. Justice. Little things like that.

  “Orhan’s cooking,” I said carefully.

  Everyone murmured their agreement, and Orhan beamed.

  I listened to the rest of their conversation closely, hoping something would be revealed in their conversation after all the wine they were drinking, some clue about who had found the urn on the cliffside and kept it. But the darkness soon settled around us, cloaking the guests, and any secrets they might be keeping, in shadows.

  37

  All evening, and into the next morning, Mom kept me busy decorating, helping Orhan with food prep, and moving furniture. I managed to get out briefly to the Arasta Bazaar for an errand and found the simit vendor. I wordlessly handed him a note with Lazar’s name written on it. The vendor nodded and slipped it into his pocket. “I bring this to him,” he assured me.

  As I worked, I thought about the plan, visualizing all the steps in my mind—getting the keys from Nazif, listening for the opening musical notes of the puppet show, then sprinting to the first guest room. It excited me to think this whole business might be resolved this very evening.

  In the late afternoon, I hit a glitch in the plan, which turned out to be my party outfit. As in, I had none. Expecting to have zero fun on this trip, I hadn’t packed any party clothes, or formal clothes, or even semiformal clothes. The closest thing I had to something fancy was my decidedly non-festive Laura Ingalls Wilder getup. Or my black beach cover-up, which looked exactly like a black beach cover-up.

  Mom tossed clothes at me from her suitcase and made me try them on. Everything looked awful. Too bright, too tailored, too preppy, too . . . Mom.

  Then there was a knock at the door, and Aunt Jackie came in. She was wearing a chic black halter dress that showed off her growing baby bump. She looked a little healthier today, though she still had dark circles under her eyes. Her doctor had given her the go-ahead to attend the party, as long as she avoided dancing and excessive stair-climbing. At breakfast, she’d admitted it was nice to have something fun to look forward to, and she was pleasantly surprised by the donations that were already coming in for the hotel’s renovation. I had to hand it to Mom; she really knew how to plan an event and get people buzzing about it. Even in a foreign country.

  Aunt Jackie interrupted my thoughts, shaking a hanger with a long teal-colored gown at me. “I found this in my closet. I’m not squeezing into this thing anytime soon. Want to try it on?”

  I took the dress into my room and put it on. It hung perfectly on my body, the hem of the gown just brushing the floor. And it completely covered my legs. The only problem was on top. I turned around in front of the full-length mirror on my door, frowning. It was a sleeveless dress with a low cowl-neck that exposed the blotches on my arms and a small patch on my chest. If I wore cover-up on my arms, the makeup would get all over the fabric. I’d have to wear it with a sweater, or go with bare arms.

  I smirked at my reflection. I was about to pull off the most high-stakes snooping expedition of my life, and bring a police officer to confront a murderer . . . and I was concerned about my skin? Seriously?

  I lifted my chin. In the light leaking through the lattice windows, my arms didn’t look so bad. They actually looked kind of good. I felt like an ancient figurine, mottled and weathered in places, but still holding together.

  “Well?” Aunt Jackie called through the door. “Let’s see.”

  I stepped out into the living room. Aunt Jackie and Mom both applauded. “You look gorgeous,” said Aunt Jackie. “That dress was made for you. You wear it well.”

  “Stunning,” Mom agreed. “Now let’s see about that hair.” She sat me down by a mirror and fussed with my hair, pulling it back into a neat bun at the nape of my neck and jabbing in pins. She combed my long bangs forward, but I stopped her. “Maybe to the side,” I suggested.

  She nodded, and brushed them over, exposing my forehead and the white patch there that I hadn’t covered up yet. I smiled at myself. I felt brave. I was going to this party as no one but myself. Tonight I would face everyone with my actual face.

  “You’ll have to do my hair for me next,” said Mom.

  “You don’t need to do anything to it,” I said. “Seems like Orhan likes you just the way you are.” I stole a glance at her in the mirror. “So is he going to be hanging around here the whole rest of our vacation?”

  “Of course not. He’s got things to do.” She set down the brush. “Zan, this isn’t anything serious. I just haven’t had fun in a long time. Your dad and I were under so much strain, with his campaign and even before that. I’ve been thinking it’s time for me to get a life. Your dad and I aren’t going to get back together, sweetheart. We know that now. Adults make mistakes. Parents aren’t perfect. I’m sorry you had to learn that lesson in such a hard way.”

  I looked down at my lap, fighting back tears. I didn’t want to admit it, but I kind of got her point, about getting her own life and rebuilding. I’d been angry for so long, feeling as if my life had been stolen from me. Maybe I was ready to move on, too.

  Mom went back to combing and pinning my hair, and we laughed over a story about her bad eighties prom hair. For a moment there, it almost felt like a party. Almost. Then I swallowed hard, remembering the huge climb still ahead of me.

  An hour before the party, I was dressed and in the patio garden picking flowers for vases, when I heard the front door to the hotel open slowly and close softly. I didn’t hear Mustafa greet anyone—he might have been in the back office—and I knew Nazif had gone home early to get ready for his puppet show. Wondering if Lazar or anyone from his gang had arrived yet, I peered into the lobby through the window.

  A girl stood there, looking around. She wore a long, chic tan trench coat and a long dark skirt. A navy blue head scarf was pulled low over her forehead, casting most of her face in shadow. But then I noticed one stray red curl escaping from the hijab.

  I flung the flowers aside and ran inside. “Sage! I thought I told you to lay low until you heard from me! Why are you here?” My mind raced. If Sage was still here when Lazar or any of his cohorts showed up at the party, that could throw my whole plan. I did not want Lazar to find Sage. I wanted to leave her out of this business as much as I possibly could.

  “I got discovered this afternoon,” she said, her voice shaking. “I went to get a drink from the vending machine, and saw Lazar and Vasil coming down the stairs from the street. They were with a woman, someone they were probably sending in to look for me. I don’t know how they figured out I was there, but they did. My friend gave me some clothes from the lost and found bin, and a hijab to hide my hair, and I escaped out the back. I’m sorry I came here. They’re probably going to find me here, too, eventually. I feel like I’m a cursed object. But I didn’t know where else I could go.”

  I didn’t know what to do either. But I needed to get her out of the lobby. “Come up to my room,” I said, leading her toward the stairs. “You can hide there. The windows will shield you from the street.”

  I brought her upstairs to my room. “Are you hungry?”

  She nodded.

  “I’ll bring you some meze. We have tons of food for the party. And Orhan’s cooking.” I lowered my voice as the sound of my mom’s shower stopped. “Lock the door from the inside. I’ll knock three times when I come back so you’ll know it’s me.”

  “Thank you.” Sage sat on the bed and drew her knees up to her chin. “This might all be over by tonigh
t, right? If one of the guests really has the urn?”

  “I hope so. But I invited Lazar, through one of the street vendors. I wanted him to take the urn, with Inspector Lale as a witness. I don’t want him taking you.”

  “You’re right. I shouldn’t be here. I’ll go.” She started to stand up.

  I pushed her gently back down. “No. Stay. Now that you’re here, you shouldn’t go. It’s too risky to just run out into the street again. I think you can hide here, but you cannot come out of this room, and I’m keeping the doors to the room and the suite locked. Understand?”

  She nodded. “But I insist on helping you look for the urn. If everyone is at the puppet show on the rooftop, no one will see me, right?”

  “All right,” I said. “You can help. But don’t even open this door. I’ll come get you when the show starts and I have Nazif’s keys.”

  She nodded. “I’m so sorry, Zan. I keep dumping all my problems on you.”

  “You’re not dumping your problems on me,” I said, thinking of something Nazif had said earlier. “What Lazar’s doing with this smuggling operation is all of our problem. But I’m also going to have a real problem with my mom if I don’t finish what she asked me to do for the party. Here.” I handed her the Freya Stark book. “At least now you won’t be bored. Try to relax, if that’s even possible.”

  She took the book from me and smiled at it, as if it was a long-lost friend.

  38

  At sunset, after the call to prayer, the band arrived, and then the guests. As I slowly made my way down the stairs, trying not to trip in the long gown, I heard them streaming in. I paused on the landing to watch. Couples and small groups of people came through the front doors, where they were greeted warmly by Aunt Jackie, Mustafa, and Mom. Some were local business owners and salesclerks. There were also tourists, mostly Europeans, dressed in chic cocktail attire. I heard a mix of languages—Greek, Italian, French, German—and breathed a heady mix of perfumes.

  Some people went to the patio garden for drinks and hors d’oeuvres and others, directed by Mom, headed up to the roof garden. Others lingered in the lobby to listen to Aunt Jackie talk about the planned renovations; Mom had made an information sheet for her to hand out to people. Most of the guests went directly upstairs to the rooftop, where music from the Turkish band could already be heard; it was some kind of fusion of jazz and Turkish folk music, and it was catchy. Mom had actually found a good band. I started to get a fluttery, panicky feeling inside, wondering if Lazar would dare to show up in person. Would he come alone or with Vasil? Would he have a whole gang of people to protect him?

  I took a deep breath. I couldn’t waste time imagining failure. I had to be confident. I came down the stairs a little farther, scanning the crowd of arriving guests, and then spotted the Geezers hanging out on the long, low couches in the lobby. The Blue Voyage guests, I corrected myself. Since the spa trip, I felt bad thinking of them as “geezers.” Alice and Fiona were right—there was more to them than their old age and their appearance. Just like there was more to me than my appearance.

  The Blue Voyage guests were dressed up fancier than I’d ever seen them on the boat, in suits and linen dresses. They were sipping wine and chatting. I watched them for a moment, suddenly feeling terrible about my plan to go through all their personal stuff. It almost felt like seeing family again, relatives gathered together at a holiday party or something. I wanted to imagine that these were my grandparents, my great-aunts and great-uncles. I had to remind myself that one of them might have the Karun Treasure urn in their luggage, that at least one of them might have deceived my aunt. But people were complicated. Watching the Blue Voyage guests now, I hoped that if one of them had taken the urn, it was for a very good reason.

  Noticing me, Milton whistled. “Ah, there she is! Alexandra the Great!”

  I turned and looked at the group. There was silence. I knew what they were thinking. What was wrong with my skin?

  But I rode it out. I stood there smiling bravely, even though I didn’t feel very brave.

  Then Maeve, wearing a floral halter dress a few sizes too small, beamed at me and told me to come and join them, so I did. Nils and Ingrid complimented me on my dress, as did the British ladies, and then . . . the Clarksons?

  Ron and Judy Clarkson were there, too! They perched on the end of a divan, just under the overhanging staircase, which was why I hadn’t seen them at first. They were the best-dressed of the group. Judy wore a fuchsia-colored sheath dress. Her hair was slicked back in a sleek twist at the nape of her neck, not windblown like it had been on the boat. Ron wore a crisp dress shirt, blue tie, linen trousers, and buttery brown leather loafers with tassels—the expensive brand my dad always bought. They looked like real businesspeople, people with some serious money. And they smiled warmly at me, as if were still hanging out on the back of the Anilar.

  Which none of the other cruise guests here knew I had done. My whole body tensed up.

  “Ron and Judy, I don’t believe you have had the pleasure of meeting Zan,” said Nils. “Zan was our youngest blue cruiser. She’s the daughter of this hotel owner, who was also on the cruise.”

  Judy beamed at me. “Oh, of course, we—”

  I shot her and Ron a pleading look, channeling all my mental powers to beg them not to tell about the midnight swim with Sage.

  Judy nodded. “Of course, we are delighted to meet you, Zan.” She stood up and shook my hand, as did Ron. “We had the pleasure of meeting your mother on the Dalyan River shore excursion.”

  “So when are you two lovebirds off to Cappadocia?” Milton asked the Clarksons as they sat back down.

  “We fly out tomorrow morning,” Judy said. “And the day after?” She squeezed Ron’s hand and smiled at him. “Our hot-air-balloon adventure.”

  Ron made a face showing mock terror. “I’m not wild about heights. Or about the prospect of a six a.m. balloon launch. Which means arriving at the launch site at five thirty.”

  “Oh, but honey, that’s when the light is best.” Judy patted his arm. “I spent months researching this. Voyager Balloons has the best views and the best photographic possibilities. Not to mention the highest safety standards.”

  “She’s right,” I said to Ron. “Voyager Balloons is one of our raffle prize donors.” I gestured toward our raffle table and the sign I’d made myself.

  “Don’t get me wrong. I’ll be a good sport about it when the time comes,” said Ron. “Besides, how often will I go ballooning in Turkey? You only live once, right?”

  “I’ll toast to that,” said Maeve, raising her wineglass and taking a sip.

  “Every day’s a gift,” Nils murmured in agreement, lifting his glass as well, and the others followed suit. “We’d do well to remember that.”

  “Amen,” said Alice, draining her glass. “And may the best man or woman win.” She looked at the raffle table. “We’ve all entered, you know. That balloon-ride prize would be worth extending our stay for.”

  “Agreed! And good luck to all of us,” said Nils, clinking glasses with the people sitting on either side of him. “Even if one of us doesn’t win, we should all go together on a group rate. One last voyage together, up into the blue sky. What do you say?”

  “Bloody expensive,” grumbled Milton. “Now they’re charging for the very air.”

  “Nonsense,” scolded Maeve. “You’re paying for experienced pilots, and spectacular views.” She turned to the Clarksons. “Anyway, you two certainly deserve your lovely balloon ride considering the near miss you had on the Anilar. To think you were cruising around with criminals all that time!”

  “We were just talking about the news before you got here, Zan,” said Ingrid. “Have you heard? The Clarksons’ yacht was found abandoned in Bodrum!”

  “Crewed by criminals!” said Nils.

  “What a waste of a grand vessel,” said Milton. “They had a J
acuzzi on it, can you believe it? And a full bar. And flat-screen TVs in all the cabins.”

  “Yeah, Orhan told me it had been abandoned,” I said. “Were you guys totally shocked?”

  “Oh, we were out of our minds,” said Judy. “We didn’t suspect a thing. The whole operation seemed quite legitimate, and we had a lovely cruise. The captain was a fine navigator, always seeking out private coves for us and the best snorkeling waters. The cook served delicious meals. The first mate was awfully young, but competent. Shame he got arrested. He seemed to have so much promise.”

  “He was arrested?” I squeaked. Wait till Sage heard about this. I wondered if she’d be relieved, or freaked out, or even a little bit sad. After all, Riza had been her boyfriend, not just an accomplice to a smuggling ring, and things between them had probably been happy at one time.

  “They found him trying to stow away on a ferryboat bound for Greece. He’s wanted for antiquities smuggling,” said Alice.

  “And the guards?” I couldn’t resist asking. “What happened to them?” I didn’t want to let on what I knew yet, or what had happened to me since. I was curious what they had to say.

  “Oh, those Bulgarian security guards we had?” said Ron. He made a twirling motion by his head. “Wackos. I was happy to cut them loose in Marmaris.”

  “Really? Why?” I asked.

  “Where to start?” he groaned, and Judy gave a nod of commiseration. “Let’s see. They arrived late, first off, and then they left the boat, going off in the tender a lot more than we would have liked, considering what we were paying them to, you know, guard us.”

  Fiona made a tsking sound. “Do you think they were in league together? The guards and the crew of your boat?”

  “Who knows,” said Judy. “I think I’m through with cruises for a while. I’m so ready to take to the skies. Do you mind if we change the subject? I’m a bit rattled by the whole boat situation.”