When she entered the air-conditioned room again, the booth at which Joey and the strange man had been sitting was empty.
Vicki shrugged and smiled to herself. “Vicki Barr, with your imagination, you ought to write mystery stories! You see a deep, dark plot every time you look around! You could be spending your time better at the beach, getting that Florida sun tan!”
She thrust all suspicions from her mind and went out to find a taxi.
CHAPTER IV
Pirate Gold
ONE OF THE NICEST THINGS ABOUT VICKI’S NEW York–Tampa assignment was staying at the Curtins’ home. Yesterday afternoon, after Vicki had come from the airport, she and Louise had gone to the beach for a swim—and to begin “work” on Vicki’s Florida sun tan. After dinner, Mr. Curtin had taken the three girls to the movies. Appropriately enough, it had been a picture about pirates.
“You see,” Mr. Curtin had said, smiling, “we’re real pirate-minded here in Tampa. We want to give the tourists a real good run for their money.”
Vicki loved the guest room—which was now called “Vicki’s room”—with its flowered curtains and its big four-poster bed. And everyone in the family, including Mrs. Tucker, the housekeeper, were understanding about hard-working airline stewardesses and why they sometimes had to sleep late in the morning.
Now the three girls were at lunch—brunch for Vicki—at a small table on the side porch. The sun was shining brilliantly through the tree-tops and making little puddles of golden light on the tiles of the floor. The air was still, and held a heavy perfume of oleander and hibiscus. Up in the trees, songbirds twittered merrily. Birds are smarter than people, Vicki thought, they all go South for the winter.