1 Shore Excursion (10 page)

“I’ll have the chef’s recommendations for today, Antonio,” Captain Vargos ordered.
“And for you,
Sidney
?”

“I’ll just have the luncheon salad.” I said
with regret.

With no breakfast, after the night I’d had, I’d been looking forward to the whole nine yards at lunch, but I
didn’t
want
to spen
d any
more time with
Vargos
than necessary
.
Jay and I had clearly been shut out of the loop of information regarding the investigation of Ruth’s death. I
resented that and knew I
wasn’t going to be told anything new or significant by this Greek god.

“I don’t quite understand why you need to speak with me a
t all
, Captain Vargos,” I began
, looking up into those deep blue eyes.
Despite my resolve, w
ading into those depths, I almost lost my train of thought.
“I
was told
that once the
cruise
officials
landed onboard this afternoon, they would assume all responsibility for the investigation.”

“That would certainly be true if the authorities
had been
able to board today,” he replied. “Unfortunately, the wind has again gained such strength that a
fast boat docking or a
helicopter landing
is out of the question
.
Either one would be unsafe
.
I have been told that we
must
simply delay the inquiry until we can reach port.
Therefore it becomes once again my responsibility, and yours.
No?”

He took a long sip of wine before continuing.

“At four o’clock I will announce to the passengers the unfortunate
news that
one of our guests
has died
. We will
observe
a moment of silence.
They will assume that her death was due to
advanced
age and that the cruise will continue on
as stated in the itinerary
after this regrettable delay
,
necessitated by
inclement weather.

“
We will, of course, encourage them in this
assumption
.
”
He fixed me with a piercing blue stare.
“
Beyond that, I will tell them nothing
.
I must insist that you and
Jay
Wilson do the same.
I will also announce that
all shipboard activities, including
the Captain’s Cocktail
Party
and Masquerade Ball planned for this evening
,
will
take place
as scheduled.”

“But
Captain,” I protested, “
A
woman had been murdered on this ship.”

He looked around to see if I had been overheard, but
no one was seated at the next table, and the
noise level was fairly high.
“We don’t know that,
Sidney
,
now
do we?
We know that she is dead
, of course
.
But w
e don’t know why
or how she met her death
.
And we won’t know until we dock in Norway
and an official investigation can be conducted
.”

He watched
me in silence as Antonio placed a plate of prosciut
t
o and melon before him.

“Until then,” he continued, “this ship and everyone on her
—
including you,
Sidney
—
are under my command.
I am
asking
you and your colleague not to discuss the
circumstances of Ruth
Shadrach’s death
or
share
any wild speculations
regarding it
with anyone.
I do not want panic.
A
s captain of this ship, I could issue these as orders, but I prefer that you honor my request
.”

“But Captain
—
”

“I’m sorry, Sidney
, but I must insist that every attempt be made by my crew and the cruise and hotel staff to carry on as if nothing unusual has happened.
I strong
ly suggest that you do the same
.” He picked up
the bottle
from
the silver coole
r at his elbow and said,
“
May I?”

After
fill
ing
my glass
and his own,
he
lightly touch
ed
his glass to mine
, all the while
watching me carefully with his deep blue eyes
.

I could see why Zoe and every other woman on this ship found this man attractive.
I regretted that he was already ta
ken and
I was sorry we had not met another time, in another place.
He
did
look and act like a movie star
,
and lunching alone with him in that beautiful setting
under other circumstances would have been
pretty
special
.

But he
clearly
would be no help
in
solving Ruth’s murder. He had his job as captain to consider. I had my job as travel leader and my mission—to find out who had killed Ruth and why. I wasn’t sure
how
best
to respond to Captain Vargos’ “request,” so I concentrated on finishing my
lunch
.

The
lovely Salad Ni
ç
oise and the chilled Chardonnay were
not very satisfying. At that moment
I would willing
ly have traded all the gorgeous
food and wine and flowers on the Rapture of the Deep for
an Amstel Light,
just one of Kim’s
pastrami sandwiches,
and a stool at his ratty counter.

“I
j
ust don’t think it shows th
e proper respect, that’s all
I’m saying
.
”

Gertrude
Fletcher sat front-row center in the Crystal Lounge,
primly patting her tight
gray
curls
into place,
waiting for the vegetable
-
carving demonstration
and class
to begin.

“When you get to be my age,
Gert
,” said
Hannah
Weiss,
handing out
little
paring knives
, instruction sheets,
and raw vegetables,
“you’ll find out that you gotta keep moving.
Things happen.
People get sick.
People die.
T
hat’s just how it is.
Life goes on.
It’s
sorta
like George B
urns
said, ‘When the guy in the black coat knocks on your door, you gotta go!’
”

“Well, I think Ruth would want us to dress up tonight and have
a few little drinks.”
Brooke S
hyler looked down at the
emeralds
on her perfectly-manicured fingers
.
“Why, Ruth herself was really looking forward to
the masquerade ball,” she continued
.
“
She even brought a costume.
Think of it as a memorial.”

“Yeah, a memorial,”
Ethel
Goldstein nodded.
“A memorial.
That’s nice.
We’ll think of it as a memorial.”

“I still think they should have buried her at sea instead of keeping her in the iceb
ox with the radishes,” said Gladys
Murphy.
“I never seen a burial at sea.”

Time for
moi
... Sh
erlock
Marsh.
I began carefully, mindful of Vargos’ warning.
“Girls
...”
They love to be called girls.

“Did any of you notice anything
odd
about Ruth
Sunday
night during dinner?
Anything strange?”

They nodded in unison, like old bobble-headed dolls, letting me know that this
topic
had already been well-discussed.

“She wouldn’t eat,” Ethel said.

“All that gorgeous food a
nd she wouldn’t eat,” Hannah
added.
“
Steamship round of beef, roast spring lamb, white asparagus, barely tasted it.
She just picked, picked, picked.
When I asked her why she didn’t eat
,
she just looked out the window and said something about the bus and her
little
red
suitcase.”

“That’s right, she wouldn’t eat
,
”
Maria Petrone added.
“And she didn’t even stay for the
Crepes Suzette
.
She just got up and left, right
after
our waiter, Vlamin,
fired
it up.”

“I can’t wait for the
B
aked Alaska
tonight
,
” said Hannah
.
“I just love those f
laming
desserts.
So
good, so
pretty.
”

“What is
B
aked Alaska
?” asked Muriel
Murphy.

“What, you never had
B
aked Alaska?”
Ethel peered at her over her
big black
bifocals.

“She never had
B
aked Alaska.” Hannah looked at others, shaking her head, and then at Muriel and explained, “Baked Alaska is this delicious cake, filled with ice cream and then covered all over with that sweet, fluffy stuff
—
I can’t think of the name of it right now
—
and then baked.
Then the waiters flame it up
,
turn out all the lights and march around the dining room singing,
“
Hot, Hot, Hot
”
with the
B
aked Alaskas on their heads.
It’s beautiful.
You should see it.
And it tastes so good.”

Her
sweet little
wrinkled face
glowed
with nostalgia
.

“
That was
the
B
aked Alaskas
that we saw
this morning in the big freezers when we went on the galley tour,”
Hannah
continued. “They looked so delicious, all lined up on the racks and ready for tonight.”

“The fluffy stuff, Hannah, is meringue
,
”
Gertrude snapped. “And
that
’s not
on the menu
tonight. The
B
aked Alaskas are on Caribbean Night.
That’s tomorrow
night
.
If you would read your Daily Program, you would know that we have French cuisine tonight, because of the
Bal Masque
.
”

She
finished with an acid smile. “
Did you see Ruth while you were in the freezer?”

“Now,
Gertrude
, you know they wouldn’t keep Ruth with the
B
aked Alaskas.
You’re just trying to
make everyone sad again and
spoil
the whole thing.” Ethel
made a vicious cut into her turnip and turned her back on
Gertrude
.

Gertrude
had the last shot.
“
I just don’t think it shows the proper respect, that’s all,
”
she said, for the fifth time.
“And I’m not dressing up
tonight
like some hootchie-cootchie dancer, either!”

“
Just
imagine
, Sidney,
Gertrude
Fletcher as a hootchie-coochie dancer!” Jay
said
in my ear.

He stepped over the back of the chair and plopped down beside me.
“Still mad?”

“Hell,
yes, I’m still mad, party boy.” I
whispered,
“
We’ve got this big mess on our hands, and the High Steppers to take care of, and we still haven’t
talked to
Itchy, and, oh, by the way,
sugar britches,
a killer roaming around the ship, and
you
get hammered and
hide in the hot tub with the magician.
I’d like to make you both disappear!”

“But you can’t,” he
murmured
, “and you wouldn’t if you could, because you love me.
And I’ve got news.
While I was in the room taking a little aspirin, Captain Vargos called and asked me to come to
the bridge again
.
I don’t know why he needed to see me in person
unless he was trying to make an impression.
All
he wanted was to tell me again to shut up about Ruth.
He said that he is ordering
everyone
—
particularly us
—
to carry on as if nothing is wrong.
So, my sweet, at least until we get to Norway,
the drill is
business as usual on the high seas.
He said he’d already put the word
on
you.
That means you’d better
put a smile on that sad little face and
get ready to party tonight,
my
angel
, because there’s nothing else to do unless you and Fletcher want to go sit down
below
with Ruth.”

I really wanted to stay mad at Jay, but I just couldn’t.
I do love him, and between us we’ve covered a lot of ground together over the years, some of it pretty rocky.
I also needed an ally.

And
,
after all, it’s not fair to get angry with the tiger because he has stripes.

We sneaked out of the veggie demo and grabbed
mugs of
coffee
from the Buccaneer Bar
before heading to my
special
hideout
overlooking
the Lido deck.

The wind was
strong, al
l
right
—
the captain hadn’t been exaggerating
—
and you couldn’t see far into the mist.
There were no stars. Thick clouds scudded across the sky.
We ducked into my
favorite
little shelter
above and behind
the Lido Bar, now as deserted as the pool it served in better weather.

I outlined my plan for Jay,
who
thought
it was
a very, very bad idea.

“Look, Sidney, you are not a detective, or a
trained investigator
, or
any of that stuff.
You are
a travel agent,
not a cop,
and you could get yourself in a whole lot of trouble messing around in all this.
What if you DO figure it out?
What if you find
the killer
?
What
are you going to do then
?
Arrest him?
Whip out the nu
n
chucks?
”

What indeed?
Somehow, my plan hadn’t gotten quite that far.

“I don’t know, Jay.
But I’ve got to do something.
I can’t just sit around and sleep and eat and hope for the best.
Besides everything else, we’ve got to get this thing solved so they’ll let us go home.
Do you really want to spend
the next
couple of months
locked up
in some
historic, freezing
old
hotel
in Oslo w
hile
the High Steppers
are
questioned by Interpol or somebody?
And what about our careers?
”

I finally had his attention.
He
was silent
for a minute.
Then he turned and looked hard at me, suddenly serious.

“O
kay,
I’ll help you, and you may,
may
be right.
But you have to promise me, Sidney Lanier Marsh, promise me that you won’t do anything that might get you iced like Ruth. Don’t forget, little Miss Clouseau, that Ruth was a big chicken. She probably had
ten
locks on her apartment door at home, but her cabin door was not forced, not even locked.
So the only way this perp could have gotten into her cabin was if she opened the door for him.
That means
he
was someone she knew, someone she trusted.
Someone
we
know and trust.
This
isn’t a
game
, sweetie
.
The same thing could
happen to you.
”