Vicki came downstairs late on Monday morning. Except for Mrs. Tucker puttering around somewhere back in the kitchen area, the big Curtin house was quiet as a church. At the sound of Vicki’s footsteps on the stairs, the housekeeper popped her head out the dining-room door.
“’Morning, Miss Vicki. I’ll have some breakfast on the table for you in a jiffy. You don’t want to miss the big goings-on downtown this morning. This is the day the pirates land.”
Vicki sat down at the big dining table and Mrs. Tucker brought her a glass of orange juice.
“You can’t live in Florida without having orange juice for breakfast,” she remarked. “And the girls left you this note.”
Vicki opened it and read:
“Dear Vic: Had some errands to do, so Nina and I have gone on ahead. Wanted to let you get your beauty sleep. Don’t miss the big pirate invasion. The ship comes in about noon. I’ll manage to find you in the crowd—I hope. Love, Louise.”
Vicki looked at her watch. Ten-thirty. She’d have plenty of time. She ate her breakfast and read the morning paper. It was devoted almost entirely to the coming visit of the José Gasparilla and the pirate crew that was expected to land and conquer the city shortly after noon. Headlines in the New York papers yesterday had been devoted to the United States new satellite. Here a small story about it was almost lost at the bottom of page one. Vicki giggled. This week Tampa turned back the clock and the calendar a hundred and fifty years!
There was one story on an inside page that caught her eye. It was a follow-up on the theft of the gold coins. The carefully worded account contained no new facts, simply stated that the local police and the FBI were pressing their investigation and that Mr. John Quayle, chief of the Federal Bureau of Investigation in the Tampa district, was confident that the case would be broken soon. There was no mention of Joey Watson or the flashlight clue.
The part of the story that most interested Vicki was a spread of pictures of the antique coins that had been forwarded from the museum in New York. Even in the black-and-white newspaper reproduction, she could see that the coins were of exotic design and extraordinarily beautiful. One showed a huge bird in flight. Another bore the likeness of a sea nymph, her hair blowing above the waves. A third showed the profile of a forgotten queen wearing a tall, many-pointed crown. Her face was encircled by laurel branches and the entire coin was rimmed with stars. On a hunch, Vicki tore the picture out of the paper and slipped it into her purse.
When Mrs. Tucker came in to clear the table, Vicki asked, “Aren’t you going downtown to see the fun?”