CHAPTER THIRTY THREE
Aboard the Doris Day, Arthur Wyneth played the experienced and sophisticated captain with his blue blazer and the gold metal button along with his white cap. His crew worked while he lounged. The yacht they assumed the coast guard, the FBI and what ever law enforcement agencies were on was closing in on them and of course, it. Unlike their boss who only had to fear the law back in the East, these three had several local charges against them. Someone must have ratted on them and they were having dark thoughts about their boss at the moment.
"Jennie, could you move the sail that way?"
"Why?"
"It's blocking the sun. I want to get a tan."
"Impossible. With your white skin, you're more likely to get skin cancer," she snapped in the manner of one who never had that problem being one of those gorgeous blondes who darkened gradually without burning.
"Besides you're covered up too much. Who do you think you are the millionaire on Gilligan's Island?" retorted Ben.
"Will you quit yammering?" asked the other crew member, "That police yacht's almost upon us!"
Wyneth arose from his chair and walked over to Port side. He could see the yacht in the distance, and the man on the deck was definitely FBI by his suit. For some reason, he reminded Arthur of that cameraman. He always envied people like that, those who could look neat and sophisticated in store bought clothes, not like him. He could wear the best Brooks Brothers outfit and still appear as if he never left the Hills.
The yacht containing the bad guys of the Terra Firma shoot passed along the Stern of the Doris Day. No one took much notice. They were still watching the other yacht close in when Ben dropped what he was doing and he started to shake. "What was that?"
"Have you gone crazy? It's probably some seagull taking a suicide dive."
"Suicide dive? That was no damn bird. Someone's on board."
"Nonsense," yawned Wyneth, "no one could jump that far and I didn't hear a splash."
"Neither did I, but I heard what sounded like running shoes."
Arthur yawned. "Well you'd better check the deck for dead fish falling from the sky or other phenonema."
Jennie laughed. "You sound like my grandfather, the UFO nut"
"You mean the one they had locked up in the loonie bin? The one who put aluminum around his head so the rays would not penetrate his skull?" asked her brother.
"Did you think I was talking about Grandpa Jake?"
"Could be. He never could keep his pants on and remember when he peed on the living room rug?"
Wyneth was disgusted at this little piece of domestic intelligence. At least, his grandpa had gone outside to the barn to do his business. Of course, by then he was wandering about, talking like a two year old, and Arthur had the distasteful job of watching him so he would not knock over the still. That was not a job for a ten year boy who would rather play cards and take pennies from younger kids.
He went back to his chair, only getting up and pretending to steer the yacht when it appeared that another yacht was closing in. The Doris Day was now in the midst of several other yachts, all crowding in on it, causing him to steer past that movie yacht where that photographer was filming the leading lady having a cat fight with this overly endowed slut in the made for bondage outfit.
Arthur leaned back right into the barrel of a gun that pressed into his ribcage. He gradually turned around, seeing a tall man in either his late thirties or early forties, with long hair passed his shoulders, wearing a shirt, pants, and running shoes.
"Well Mr. Dead Beat," said Jarod, "you've finally run out of places to hide or should I use another cliché?"
"And you're all alone. Ben, Nick, go get him!"
They rushed at the interloper, but Jarod quickly evaded them. It was as though he knew their every move. Ben raised a club, and the Pretender lashed out with his hand, the force breaking it in two, as Ben screamed in pain as his fingers snapped in two.
Leaving his place, Nick and then Jennie rushed at Jarod while Arthur made a beeline to the lifeboat, only to be stopped by a chair thrown against his back.
By the time, the Movie and the "Police" yacht surrounded the Doris Day, he had them all bounded and gagged, Dominant style with the duct tape over their mouths.
"That was not necessary," said Miss Parker.
"That was the natural thing to do," said Jarod.
