The Lucky Duck Affair. Mel Gilden

immediately smiled. “Is that you, Otto?”

      “It is. Come sit with us.”

      True twirled his finger at the man and his table, and Javiar dutifully led him and Polly to it. True shook hands with Otto. “Polly, this is Otto Laird. We were in college together. Though I think both of us had more hair back then.” He introduced Polly, and Laird said he was charmed.

      Then Laird introduced the other man at the table. “This is Zoltan,” he said.

      “How do you do, Mr. Zoltan?” Polly said.

      “Just Zoltan,” the man replied using the remains of a European accent True could not identify. A tiny smile came and went quickly on Zoltan’s face.

      Zoltan had no hair whatsoever, and a triangular head with his chin making a single point at the bottom. His brilliant blue tie, whose color was obviously chosen to match the astonishing color of his large eyes, was decorated with astrological symbols.

      Javiar brought a pitcher of margaritas as well as the usual silverware and napkins for True and Polly.

      True sipped his drink and smacked his lips. “It’s been a long time,” he said.

      Laird agreed. He seemed a little uncomfortable. “Perhaps it is fortunate that we ran into each other.”

      “That sounds ominous,” Polly remarked.

      “Yes.” Laird glanced at Zoltan, who nodded in reply to Laird’s unspoken question.

      Before either of them had a chance to explain, a waitress in a colorful Mexican peasant outfit approached the table and took their order. Because neither True nor Polly had had a chance to look at the menu, they both had “the usual.”

      When the waitress had retreated, True asked the logical question: “Why is it fortunate that we ran into each other?”

      Laird sighed. “As you may have heard, I recently bought an old cruise ship, which I’ve refitted as a luxury resort for gambling and general relaxation. I call it the Lucky Duck.”

      “I’ve heard about your ship,” Polly said, “but I didn’t know gambling was involved.”

      “You don’t mix in the right circles,” Laird said. “Word gets around.”

      “Gambling is illegal in California,” True said. “You must be beyond the three-mile limit.”

      “That’s right. And I’ve been doing pretty well out there so far. Then, about a month ago the ghost of Captain Henry Robbins began to haunt my ship.”

      “Who?” Polly asked.

      “Captain Henry Robbins, the previous captain of the ship. It was called the Hippocampus back when Captain Robbins was in command.”

      “Assuming there are such things as ghosts,” True said, “why would he haunt the Lucky Duck?”

      “Opinions vary,” Laird admitted. “Anyway, since he began, business has fallen off seventy-five percent. Most people are afraid of ghosts whether they admit it or not. I certainly am.”

      “Very wise,” Zoltan said. “There are few things more dangerous than an angry ghost.”

      “You sound as if you’ve had experience in this area,” Polly suggested.

      Zoltan inclined his head once in her direction.

      “That’s why I hired Zoltan,” Laird admitted. “He is a medium.”

      “Ah,” True remarked.

      “I know that tone,” Zoltan said. “I have heard it from the mouths of unbelievers before.”

      “Well,” True said in a placating voice, “let’s say I am more inexperienced than unbelieving.”

      “Nicely said,” Zoltan admitted.

      “Nice of you to say so,” True said. “But you obviously have your expert, Otto. Nothing you’ve said so far explains why you feel fortunate for running into me.”

      “Actually, it has nothing to do with the haunting. I’d merely like to invite both of you out to the Lucky Duck as my guests. I’m throwing a little party for Clair de Lune and her director, Brad Windsor. You know them?”

      “Not personally, but I read the papers. Miss de Lune is supposed to be the next big thing in moving pictures.”

      “That’s her,” Laird agreed. “Come on out this evening by water taxi. Gamble or not. Stay as long as you like.”

      True thought for a moment. “A lot of water under the bridge, Otto.”

      “Many gallons,” Laird agreed. He stared at True as he waited for the answer, as if the answer were of more than casual interest.

      “We’ve been needing a vacation,” Polly said. “This sounds like fun.”

      “You heard the woman,” True said. “We’ll be there.”

      “I’m pleased that’s settled,” Laird said.

      The rest of the meal was spent in general conversation, mostly comprised of True and Mr. Laird relating adventures they’d survived in college.

      “That never happened,” Polly remarked again and again. “Did that really happen?”

      “Some of it,” True admitted. “There was really no cow involved.”

      “I believe it was a dog,” Laird added.

      Zoltan didn’t say much while all this was going on, but he did managed to crack a smile occasionally. He ate very neatly. His own margarita seemed to have no effect on him.

      After a while Mr. Laird took Zoltan away, leaving True and Polly to look out a big picture window at the parade of tourists passing by, and at the ocean crashing into the beach beyond.

      Polly looked at her watch. “If you really intend to visit the Lucky Duck this evening, we’d better start back.”

      True took a sip of his drink and smacked his lips gently. At this point there wasn’t much left in the glass but crushed ice. “We wouldn’t want to disappoint Otto,” True said.

      “We could, you know.”

      “And we would if his invitation was just a friendly gesture.”

      “You think there’s more to it?” Polly asked.

      “I do. But I couldn’t tell you why.”

      “One of your ‘feelings’?”

      “A nuisance, I know—”

      “Maybe he just wants a bigger crowd for Miss de Lune’s event.”

      “Maybe.”

      “Gracias, Javiar,” True said to the patrón. “Superb as usual.” He paid the bill and left an enormous tip.

      CHAPTER TWO

      BEYOND THE THREE-MILE LIMIT

      Polly thought it would be too cold out on the water for her new gown, so she wore a much older and heavier silver number that she had always liked. True wore what he called his admiral suit: a double breasted blue blazer with gold buttons. In addition, each of them packed an overnight bag.

      As Polly had predicted, the air was cold, and it pummeled them with light fists as it brought them far-off recorded dance music. The smell of cheap grilling meat wafted down the strand from the food stands.

      “After today’s lunch I didn’t think I would ever be hungry again,” Polly said. “But there really is nothing like the heady fragrance of hot grease.”

      “I’ll have Otto’s chef make up some for you special,” True said.

      Polly stuck out her tongue at him.

      They walked arm in arm through the light