The usually calm and placid air had been as rough as a rolling sea even at the plane’s normal “over weather” altitude for the first two hours of the flight; and since the ship was packed to capacity due to yesterday’s cancellations, Vicki and Cathy had their hands full.
But here, over Florida’s west coast, the sun shone brightly. The blue waters of Tampa Bay caught a billion sunbeams and threw them back up into the sky like a shower of tiny diamonds. Below, the palm trees fluttered their long fronds in the lazy breeze.
It had been just a week ago today, Vicki remembered, that their ship had carried the cargo of gold coins that had seemed to vanish so mysteriously into thin air. She wondered if Mr. Quayle had acted on the information she had given him after her adventures in Ybor City—or if there had been any new developments of any kind in the mystery of the stolen gold coins. Well, in any case, she’d soon find out. But right now she had better get a move on if she wanted to be in time for tonight’s big event.
It was late by the time she arrived at the Curtin home. Mrs. Tucker, the housekeeper, met her at the door.
“We heard about the bad weather in New York on the radio,” Mrs. Tucker said, “and weren’t sure whether you were going to make it today or not. The girls went on ahead to take their places on the float for the parade. They said to tell you to meet them for dinner about eight o’clock at the Spanish Park, the restaurant you all went to the other night.”
Vicki saw that Mrs. Tucker was carrying a light coat over her arm, as though she had been just about to go out. The housekeeper added:
“Is there anything I can do for you, Miss Vicki, before I leave?” She smiled half-apologetically, as though a woman of her age and dignity should be aloof from such gala goings-on. “I thought I’d go and see the parade myself.”
“You go right ahead,” Vicki said cheerfully. “Don’t worry about me. Maybe I’ll see you in Ybor City.”
She hurried upstairs to her room, slipped out of her blue uniform, showered, and then wriggled into a sleeveless, red silk dress with a flaring skirt that she had bought especially for the occasion. With her silvery blond hair she might not look much like a Spanish señorita, but at least the bright crimson dress was a gesture.
When her taxi set her down on the edge of the Latin Quarter, the old streets, with their archways extending out over the sidewalks, were teeming with people. Some wore the light-colored sports clothes that marked them as tourists and sight-seers. Most of the men and women, and practically all the children—of whom hundreds were running around laughing and shouting—were in costume. Some were dressed in Spanish clothes, others wore pirate outfits. Music poured from loud-speakers over the sidewalks and from distant bands. Vicki supposed the unseen bands must be on the floats which were probably forming up somewhere out of her sight for the parade.