Santa Cruise Read Free Page B

on board in preparation for the maiden voyage, but it was late and the ship was quiet.
    Clad in hooded sweatshirts and dark glasses, the two felons followed Eric up a service companionway to the boat deck at the top of the ship. Eric peered out into the carpeted passageway. The coast was clear. He beckoned them forward. As they were passing the Commodore’s door, something slipped from under Highbridge’s sweatshirtand fell on the floor. Even though the carpet was plush, there was a distinctive thud.
    â€œOh goodness, my toiletries kit,” Highbridge whispered, slipping as he bent down to grab the leather case. Quickly trying to steady himself, he accidentally bumped against the Commodore’s door, barely missing the mermaid-shaped doorbell.
    Eric’s heart almost stopped. His uncle was a light sleeper and often spent much of the night reading. He raced down the passageway, the others on his heels, stopped in front of his stateroom, and with trembling hands inserted the key. The green light went on, the electronic lock beeped happily, and he pushed open the door. The two escapees followed him inside the room. Eric shut the door behind them and double-locked it.
    The curtains to the balcony had been drawn for the night by the cabin steward. A mint was on Eric’s pillow. Bull’s-Eye Tony lumbered over and sat on the couch while Highbridge dropped his leather toiletries kit on the bed and sighed.
    Some roommates, Eric thought. Tony, a dangerous crime boss, and Highbridge, born with a silver spoon in his mouth, who cheated other people out of their money just for the thrill of it. Both in their mid-forties. Tony, on the short side with a powerful build, balding, and a face that looked asif it had gone a few rounds in a prize fight, and tall, thin Highbridge with his dark brown hair, chiseled, aristocratic features, and a disdainful expression he had probably been born with.
    A knock on the door sent shock waves through the room. Eric pointed to the closet. Tony and Highbridge ran to it and disappeared inside.
    â€œEric, are you there?” Commodore Weed called from the passageway.
    Eric turned on the bathroom light and pulled his robe off the hook to suggest he’d been about to get undressed. The robe over his arm, he opened the door. Uncle Randolph was a sight to behold in his custom-made, blue-and-white pajamas, complete with a sailboat embroidered on the lapel. “Hi,” Eric greeted his uncle, trying to sound sleepy.
    â€œMind if I come in?” the Commodore asked soulfully.
    Eric had no choice but to open the door wider.
    The Commodore stepped inside. “I heard a thump on my door and hurried into the passageway just as your door was closing. I guess you can’t sleep either, huh?”
    In his long history of shady dealings, Eric had learned early on that it was always better to stick as close as possible to the truth. “I went for a walk on the deck, so keyed up about our Santa Cruise.Then I realized how tired I was. I think that’s why I accidentally bumped against your door.” He yawned, then watched in horror as the Commodore picked up Highbridge’s toiletries kit off the bed, and sat on the couch where the indentation from Tony’s generous behind was still fresh.
    â€œHandsome kit. I don’t think I’ve ever seen you with it before.”
    â€œI’ve had it a while,” Eric answered lamely and deliberately yawned again.
    â€œI won’t stay long,” Randolph said in a tone that suggested he was just getting wound up. It reminded Eric of his long-winded high school graduation speaker who spent the first fifteen minutes at the podium mumbling, “Now before I start my remarks, I’d like to mention . . .”
    â€œIt’s okay, sir, stay as long as you like,” Eric said weakly.
    â€œInsomnia,” Randolph began. “The good thing about it is it gives you time to read. The bad thing is it gives you