Her Two Week Cruise

CHAPTER 1

Miami 11:46 PM

The roar of a sports car engine interrupted the quiet of a South Miami neighborhood in the middle of a balmy summer night. Car lights came on, piercing the darkness and illuminating the house and the closed garage door.

Marta Rumanini, trembling in the driver’s seat, gripped the steering wheel tight enough to strangle a snake. Any casual observer would probably assume that she was just a white knuckle driver.

Her breath came in pants, as she backed the little car out of her driveway, barely missing their mailbox. After grinding the gears, shifting from reverse to first, she screeched tires as she drove the little car down the street and away from danger.

Marta had just shot her drunken, abusive husband and wasn’t sure he was dead.

* * *

She remembered the clock read nearly midnight when Mario came home drunk again, slamming doors, and demanding something to eat. She got out of bed, slipped on a robe, and went into the kitchen.

Where’s my dinner, you lazy bitch, he said.

I’ll fix you something, she said, in an anxious tone. How about I heat you up some pizza from the fridge?

Bring me a beer while you’re at it.

Mario . . . it’s late. Don’t you think you’ve had enough to drink?

Mario reached in his hip pocket and pulled out a small revolver, waving it in her direction.

Do as I tell you, bitch, or I’ll shoot you where you stand. I’ll decide when I’ve had enough to drink.

Marta cringed at the sight of the pistol. This was the first time he had ever pulled a gun on her. Usually, he just slapped her around and maybe blackened an eye.

She rushed to the refrigerator and grabbed a cold Bud and handed it to him. She quickly went back to the open door and found the leftover pizza. After popping it in the microwave, she opened a cabinet to get out a plate and some silverware.

Those bastards at the bar laughed at me when I lost a bet shooting pool with that blonde hussy. They said I couldn’t handle a woman even when I was sober.

The microwave beeped and Marta placed the pizza on his plate and set it on the table.

I’ll show them, he said, as he laid his pistol on the cabinet by the sink and staggered to the table to sit down to eat.

Between bites, he began to angrily describe what he thought of women and what he planned to do to her when he finished his pizza.

I’ll show them I know how to handle a woman. Your ass will be so red when I get through with you, it’ll outshine the sun. Then I’ll fuck the daylights out of you.

He paused to take another swig of beer.

As she threw away the cardboard cookie sheet the pizza came with, she listened to the terrible things he was saying. Having been beaten severely several times, she knew she had to do something to defend herself this time because he seemed so angry.

Almost as a quick reflex, Marta picked up the revolver and pointed it at his head.

You touch me again, you son-of-a-bitch, and it’ll be the last time you ever hurt me.

Her hands shook as she held the pistol with both hands.

His bloodshot eyes glared at her.

That does it, you bitch! Now I’m really gonna beat the hell outta you, he said, standing up and clumsily moving towards her.

Frightened even more, seeing him coming at her, she managed to steady her shaking hands enough to pull the trigger and fire three times into his chest. He staggered, continuing to come toward her with a surprised look on his face. She panicked, throwing the gun down and running out the door, not waiting to see if he kept coming.

His sports car was parked in the middle of the driveway, right where he’d abandoned it. Since it was blocking the driveway, she looked inside for the key. The drunken Mario had left the key in the ignition, so she jumped in.

12:38 AM

Marta’s sleepy father grimaced when she told him what happened. Barely awake, he wiped his bleary eyes on a wet paper towel.

You’re not sure he’s dead? he asked.

No Papa . . . I hope he is. He has three bullets in his chest, but I was too scared to stay and find out.

A shame, said Don Ropollo, I told him to stop drinking so much, but I didn’t know he had been beating you.

I was afraid he would kill me, Papa. I shot the bastard in self-defense.

Don Ropollo nodded, looking down at his feet as he thought.

You go to bed in your old room, he said, after a pause. I’ll take care of everything.

Thank you, Papa, she said, as she bent over and kissed him on the cheek.

Marta, still in her robe, walked down the hall to the bedroom she’d had growing up. She was still shaking as she dropped the robe on the floor and climbed between the sheets.

Her father picked up his cell phone and touched in a number.

Yes, I know it’s the middle of the night, he said, when the voice answered. This has to be done right now.

He described the situation, gave an address, and strict orders.

The house has to be squeaky clean, feed the body to the alligators, and throw the gun in the swamp, he said, finishing the conversation. You have less than five hours before daylight and you’re to tell no one.

After disconnecting and giving it a little more thought, he decided to tell his other lieutenants that he’d sent Mario to Las Vegas to do some special undercover investigating.

CHAPTER 2

8:04 AM - Miami FBI Office

Tom Garlan looked over the printout of the phone tap results as he sipped his coffee.

Looks like the Don had a late night visitor, he said to Aaron Miller. The way this reads, he phoned one of his soldiers and ordered him to get rid of a body.

Yeah, and I checked the address. It’s Mario Rumanini’s house.

The Don’s son-in-law?

Aaron nodded.

I wonder who Mario killed this time? asked Tom. The old man should be getting tired of cleaning up his messes.

I thought about going over there and sneaking a look, but I’m sure they’ve sanitized the place by now, said Aaron.

I wonder about that last remark, tell no one. Why would he find it necessary to say that? Do you think this victim is a high profile individual?

Good question, or maybe they know we’re closing in on them.

I wish we had enough to stand up in court, I’d go pick him up today, said Tom. A pity we can’t use these phone tap recordings.

Do you still think they have ears in the judge’s offices?

We can’t be sure. Remember, that’s why we didn’t get a warrant.

Maybe we should pick up Mario and sweat him, said Aaron.

No . . . if we did that, they would know we are tapping their cell phones. Let’s just keep our eyes and ears open and be patient. They’ll screw up one of these days and we can catch ‘em in the act. I hope to be the one to handcuff him.

9:46 AM

Marta slipped on her robe, rinsed the sleep from her eyes in the bathroom, and walked down the hall to the kitchen.

Good morning, said her father. Were you able to get any sleep?

I guess so, she said, sitting down with him at the breakfast table.

How do you like your coffee, Miss Marta? the maid asked.

Cream and sugar, please.

The maid placed the cup and saucer in front of her and added the ingredients.

You can leave us now, said the Don.

Marta took her first sip as she watched the maid walk down the hall.

I wish you had told me about Mario’s mean treatment earlier, he said. Your mother never liked him, you know.

Yes, but when mama died right after the wedding, I decided to try to be a good wife. I had no idea that bastard could be so brutal when he was drunk.

Well, you’re only thirty years old. You have plenty of time to make a good life for yourself.

After what happened, I’m not sure I ever want to get married again.

I’ve been thinking . . . you need to get away and forget that horrible experience. Why don’t you take a long cruise. Maybe go through the Panama Canal around to San Diego. That would take a couple of weeks. Then you could fly over to Las Vegas and spend a couple of weeks there.

That’s a good idea, Papa. A cruise might be good medicine. I don’t think I can go back to that house and stay. I would have nightmares.

I’ll call Carmen at the Royal Travel Agency. That’s the business I bought last year. She’ll find you a good trip and make all the arrangements.

While you’re doing that, I need to go home, shower, and get dressed. Can I take the maid with me? I don’t think I could stand to go in that house by myself.

Sure, princess . . . and I’ll let you know what Carmen arranges for you.

Marta nodded.

Thanks, Papa.

I’ll go get the maid for you, he said.

Marta got up to go to the bathroom while her father went to find the maid.

* * *

Across town, a black panel truck entered the city limits on the Tamiami Trail. The front windows were dark with no signage on the side panels, giving the truck an ominous look.

Man . . . I’m one tired puppy, said Rocco, I could sure use a hot cup of coffee.

Me too, said Joey, I’ll pull over at de next intersection.

I still can’t believe that we just dumped the Don’s son-in-law. You think it was the Columbian cartel that offed him?

I dunno, but somebody obviously shot him at close range. Mario musta known de killer or dey surprised de hell out of him.

Kinda dumb, though, leaving the gun at the scene. I don’t think it was a pro.

He smelled like a brewery. Maybe Mario was drunk again.

Another thing that puzzles me. How did the Don know he was dead?

His daughter musta told him. Dere was no sign of her.

You think she did it?

Hmmm . . . let’s get dat coffee, Joey said, pulling into a convenience store. It don’t pay to do much thinking in dis mob.

In their haste to finish the clean-up, they never noticed a black sedan parked across the street from Mario’s house with a man watching them load the body in the van.

11:22 AM

Marta stopped buttoning her blouse and reached for her buzzing cell phone. The read-out showed it was the travel agency calling.

This is Marta, she answered.

I just booked you on a cruise leaving this afternoon, Carmen said. They had a cancellation and you have a balcony suite on Trans Ocean’s ship, the Enticement.

Wow . . . that was fast.

We were lucky. You can board anytime. The last boarding is at 4:00 PM and the ship leaves at five.

Where am I going?

Around the Caribbean. I have you on back-to-back cruises. The first week you tour the eastern islands and the second week, you tour the western group. You don’t even have to get off the ship for the second cruise.

Okay . . . that sounds good.

Call me when you’re ready and I’ll have a limo pick you up. I’ve printed out your boarding documents and the driver will give them to you.

Carmen, you’re amazing.

One more thing, don’t forget your passport and, by the way, don’t eat. You can lunch on the ship.

Marta disconnected and sat down on the edge of the bed. Her mind was swirling at things happening so fast. She phoned her father to tell him the news and found that he was pleased.

She called the maid to help her pack.

CHAPTER 3

1:38 PM

Marta stepped out of the limo and the driver handed her luggage to a waiting porter. He looked at her boarding papers and pointed to a VIP entrance.

You have a suite, Ma’am. You get special treatment.

Smiling, Marta walked through the door into a small waiting area and up to a desk. The uniformed clerk quickly checked her paperwork and her passport. It only took a couple of minutes to make her shipboard credit card and hand it to her.

If you will step right over here, she said, pleasantly, we can take your photo for the database and you can board.

Marta stood still as the camera clicked twice, then turned to go.

Your suite should be ready in an hour, said the nice lady, and the lunch buffet is on deck nine. Have a good cruise!

Marta thanked her and walked up the ramp to the boarding entrance where they scanned her new card and motioned her through. She boarded an open elevator and pushed the number nine button.

She was so happy that the bad memories of that drunken son-of-a-bitch were about to be left behind.

2:15 PM – FBI Office

Guess what I just saw, said Aaron, poking his head through the door of Tom’s office.

You’re smiling like the cat that just swallowed a mouse, quipped Tom.

I decided to swing by Mario’s house after lunch and I saw a limo picking up his wife.

No kidding? She’s riding off in a limo, right on the heels of a murder in her house?

Yep . . . I decided to follow to see where she was going. You won’t believe this. I watched her get on a cruise ship.

Hmmmm . . . that makes no sense. A murder takes place in her home and she goes on a cruise?

I saw the name of the ship, so I thought I’d check the schedules to see where she’s going.

Do you think she was alone? asked Tom.

I didn’t see anyone meet her, but someone could easily arrive in a separate vehicle.

That’s true . . . maybe we should contact the ship’s security officer and ask him to keep an eye on her. If she’s involved in a murder and is leaving the country, we need to know where she can be picked up.

Maybe Mario is joining her. If he just killed somebody, he might want to get out of the country for a while, too.

Good thinking, let’s check the ship’s manifest to see if he’s a passenger.

I’ll let you know what I find out, said Aaron, as he turned to leave.

On the Ship

Marta looked out over the Miami skyline as she sipped a Bloody Mary. After surviving the rapid staccato of events that had taken place since last night, she had no appetite.

Her mind still swirled as she realized that it had been only a little over twelve hours ago that she had shot her drunken husband. Now she was sitting on a cruise boat and the entire episode seemed as if it had been a bad dream.

She had to steady her hand as she thought about the vicious beating she would have received. She thought it amazing that someone could be such a Jeckyll and Hyde and turn from a bumbling lover into a raging beast.

As she pondered, it suddenly occurred to her that since she hadn’t eaten all day, the shaking of her hand might be due to being weak from hunger. Reluctantly, she went over to one of the counters to pick up a salad.

She gingerly munched through the green leaves, still sipping her Bloody Mary. Surprisingly, she started to feel better and decided to go check out her suite.

Only one floor down, she used the stairs to find #8066. Pleasantly surprised, her luggage was sitting by the door and the card worked in the lock. She entered the generous room, and tugged her luggage over to the bed so she could unpack.

Inspecting, unpacking, and stowing her belongings took about thirty minutes. Walking out on the balcony, she could see the line of boarding passengers beginning to shrink.

She decided to don a bathing suit, go up to the pool deck, and get a little sun. They would certainly be able to mix another Bloody Mary for her.

FBI Office - Miami

So far, she’s the only Rumanini on the ship, said Aaron, as he looked in Tom’s door. I just got a report back from their database.

It’s getting closed to final boarding, said Tom, looking at his watch.

I emailed Ken Abney her photo. He’s still the ship’s security chief, I learned.

Great, I like working with Ken.

You know . . . maybe Mario is flying to one of the islands to meet her.

I’d be surprised because if he’s getting out of the country, he’s bound to know that airlines are an easy trace.

You’re right . . . let’s ask the locals to keep an eye on his place to see what else we can learn.

That might be pretty risky. The Don probably has ears there, too.

So . . . what do we do, sit and wait?

Let’s see what info we get from Ken. She must have some reason for taking this cruise.

You always did have a lot of patience.

On the Ship

Marta stepped out of the elevator on the pool deck and almost bumped into a man wearing a uniform and looking at a piece of paper.

Excuse me, Miss, he said, surprised at the near-collision, I should be more careful getting on elevators. I’m the ship’s Security Chief. If you have any concerns, just call me.

She gave him a raised eyebrow, thinking that seemed to be a little strange. She found an empty recliner by the pool and started to flag down a waiter for a Bloody Mary. An older couple on the adjacent recliners were drinking a very attractive rum drink, so she handed the waiter her card and asked for one of those.

She pulled off her cover-up to get a little sun while she waited for her drink, noticing that most of the people around the pool were older couples. As she lay back and closed her eyes, her mind returned to last night’s events.

Realizing that her life had changed forever, she remembered that old expression, today is the first day of the rest of your life. She decided that tomorrow she would begin to make some plans.

Your drink, Ma’am, said the waiter, standing by her chair.

Thank you, she said, taking her card and the colorful drink.

She took a sip through the straw, decided it tasted as good as