sweet, lemony perfume.
He held the tongs out like a weapon, a defensive posture that had nothing to do with the ship being docked near an unknown land.
Isabella’s growling hiss confirmed his suspicions. Rupert’s sniffing terminated in a startled
snork
, and he flattened his body against the floor.
Somewhere along the way, they had picked up a stowaway.
Or perhaps, Oscar thought with a start, she had been with them since San Blas.
Chapter 15
THE CONFESSION
ACROSS THE HALLWAY from the ship’s kitchen, Father Monty sat behind the confessional curtain, waiting for a last-minute appointment that had been penciled into his schedule book during the perilous passage into the bay.
The priest had been incapacitated throughout much of the ordeal, lying on a cot on the side of the room with a blanket pulled over his head, wishing he’d never left the firm comfort of land.
Given his distraught condition, he hadn’t noticed the person who had inscribed the entry in the logbook. Of course, the process was intended to be anonymous, but Father Monty frequently found himself challenged to uphold that ethical standard.
He peered down at the writing, scrutinizing the script. Whoever his stealthy confessor was, he or she had impeccable handwriting. The appointment had been scrawled in near-perfect penmanship, despite the ship’s violent rolling.
Who could it be?
he wondered with increasing interest. Oscar’s niece was the only female on board. Had she finally decided to divulge her secrets? He tapped the toe of his shoe, anticipating the information that might be revealed. He could hardly contain his excitement.
Per protocol, Monty’s view of the door was blocked by the confession booth’s dark curtain, but every few seconds, he edged his chair a little closer to the fabric’s edge.
Once his guest arrived, he might have to take a peek around to the opposite side—and then make his own quick confession before dinner.
—
DESPITE MONTY’S VIGILANT surveillance, the confessor slipped in without his notice. He was admiring the craftsmanship on his frog-shaped cuff links when the chair on the other side of the curtain scraped against the floor.
He jumped, startled by the sound, and nearly fell off his seat. Scrambling to regain his balance, he managed to sputter out a jumbled version of the standard mantra.
The mishmashed liturgy appeared not to matter to the person behind the curtain.
“Father, forgive me, for I have sinned.”
The voice was scratchy and high-pitched but with a strained tone, as if the speaker was making an effort at disguise.
It could be anyone
, Monty thought, more intrigued than ever.
And then a distinctive scent floated through the chapel room, overriding the aroma of the fried chicken being cooked across the hall.
Monty took a sniff—and he sensed that his confessor was not the niece.
They’d only met a few days earlier, but she was not the type of woman to wear perfume, definitely not one with this lemony-sweet scent.
Just then, the ship’s dinner bell rang.
The bell was a deafening device that Oscar operated from the far end of the kitchen, its ringer designed to efficiently send its alert throughout the entire vessel.
When the noise stopped, Monty waited for his guest to continue, but the curtain beside him remained silent.
After a few minutes, Monty eased up in his chair and cautiously poked his nose over the top of the fabric.
The chair on the other side was empty.
Chapter 16
DINNER INTERRUPTED
WITH THE CELEBRATORY dinner ready, the passengers and crew of the
San Carlos
assembled around a long wooden table on the ship’s top deck.
Most of the ship’s meals were casual affairs, but the discovery of a previously unknown portal to a protected bay of vast commercial potential warranted a more elaborate feast.
Of course, Captain Ayala needed little excuse to call for a full course of Oscar’s fried chicken. He would have requested it even if they hadn’t found the
He held the tongs out like a weapon, a defensive posture that had nothing to do with the ship being docked near an unknown land.
Isabella’s growling hiss confirmed his suspicions. Rupert’s sniffing terminated in a startled
snork
, and he flattened his body against the floor.
Somewhere along the way, they had picked up a stowaway.
Or perhaps, Oscar thought with a start, she had been with them since San Blas.
Chapter 15
THE CONFESSION
ACROSS THE HALLWAY from the ship’s kitchen, Father Monty sat behind the confessional curtain, waiting for a last-minute appointment that had been penciled into his schedule book during the perilous passage into the bay.
The priest had been incapacitated throughout much of the ordeal, lying on a cot on the side of the room with a blanket pulled over his head, wishing he’d never left the firm comfort of land.
Given his distraught condition, he hadn’t noticed the person who had inscribed the entry in the logbook. Of course, the process was intended to be anonymous, but Father Monty frequently found himself challenged to uphold that ethical standard.
He peered down at the writing, scrutinizing the script. Whoever his stealthy confessor was, he or she had impeccable handwriting. The appointment had been scrawled in near-perfect penmanship, despite the ship’s violent rolling.
Who could it be?
he wondered with increasing interest. Oscar’s niece was the only female on board. Had she finally decided to divulge her secrets? He tapped the toe of his shoe, anticipating the information that might be revealed. He could hardly contain his excitement.
Per protocol, Monty’s view of the door was blocked by the confession booth’s dark curtain, but every few seconds, he edged his chair a little closer to the fabric’s edge.
Once his guest arrived, he might have to take a peek around to the opposite side—and then make his own quick confession before dinner.
—
DESPITE MONTY’S VIGILANT surveillance, the confessor slipped in without his notice. He was admiring the craftsmanship on his frog-shaped cuff links when the chair on the other side of the curtain scraped against the floor.
He jumped, startled by the sound, and nearly fell off his seat. Scrambling to regain his balance, he managed to sputter out a jumbled version of the standard mantra.
The mishmashed liturgy appeared not to matter to the person behind the curtain.
“Father, forgive me, for I have sinned.”
The voice was scratchy and high-pitched but with a strained tone, as if the speaker was making an effort at disguise.
It could be anyone
, Monty thought, more intrigued than ever.
And then a distinctive scent floated through the chapel room, overriding the aroma of the fried chicken being cooked across the hall.
Monty took a sniff—and he sensed that his confessor was not the niece.
They’d only met a few days earlier, but she was not the type of woman to wear perfume, definitely not one with this lemony-sweet scent.
Just then, the ship’s dinner bell rang.
The bell was a deafening device that Oscar operated from the far end of the kitchen, its ringer designed to efficiently send its alert throughout the entire vessel.
When the noise stopped, Monty waited for his guest to continue, but the curtain beside him remained silent.
After a few minutes, Monty eased up in his chair and cautiously poked his nose over the top of the fabric.
The chair on the other side was empty.
Chapter 16
DINNER INTERRUPTED
WITH THE CELEBRATORY dinner ready, the passengers and crew of the
San Carlos
assembled around a long wooden table on the ship’s top deck.
Most of the ship’s meals were casual affairs, but the discovery of a previously unknown portal to a protected bay of vast commercial potential warranted a more elaborate feast.
Of course, Captain Ayala needed little excuse to call for a full course of Oscar’s fried chicken. He would have requested it even if they hadn’t found the
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