1 Shore Excursion (29 page)

“We didn’t find it.
It found us,” Ethel said. “Ruth gave it to Al Bostick and Al gave it to Sylvia and she gave it to Monique to keep for her.
Monique hid it in the bottom of the hamper in the beauty salon where she keeps the smocks.
Sylvia told Monique that the bag was her insurance,
that she should
keep it safe where no one could find it, and that if anything happened to her, then Monique was to give it to you.”

“We had the first appointments this morning,” Hannah said, “and when we got to the salon, Monique was crying
. S
he gave us the bag to give to you and so here it is.”

“Does anyone else know you have it?”
I asked.
“Did anyone see you with it?”

“No,” Hannah said. “Monique wrapped it in a smock and warned us not to let anyone else see it.
So we brought it straight here and locked it in the cabin, and then we went to find you.”

“What do you think is in it?”
Ethel asked.

I looked at the bag.
“Did you open it?”
I asked.

Ethel looked offended.
“Why Sidney, we wouldn’t
...”

“It was locked,” Hannah said.

“Of course it is,” I said
.
“It’s Ruth’s bag.
It probably has two locks.”

“Monique said that Sylvia had the key,” Hannah said, “but I guess now that’s
...”

“Gone.”
Ethel finished.

“O
kay
, ladies, come with me,” I said, wrapping the smock back around the bag.
“This bag is going to Captain Vargos, this very minute, before it disappears again.
The Russians are on the bridge right now, and people from Empress and the embassy, and God knows who else.
As much as I would like to break that lock and look inside, the only thing to do is to turn it into the authorities.
They need to take charge of this puppy, not us.
This bag has caused enough trouble.
But we don’t need to go parading through the ship with it. Somebody pretty ugly might be watching. Come on, you don’t need your purses, let’s go.”

Going up to the bridge in the glass elevator,
I was nervous.
I
guess it was
silly
, but after all that had happened, as I was carrying that bag, I
felt as if every eye on the ship
must be
watching our little procession.

W
e didn’t have much conversation. Even Hannah was subdued. I was
lost in
my own thoughts, and I’m sure Hannah and Ethel were, too.

At the bridge, I rapped on the door and told First Officer Avranos that we needed to see Captain Vargos immediately.

“Please, come in and have a seat, Miss Marsh, ladies.
I’ll tell him that you are here, but he is very busy and might not have time just now to see you.
Are you sure that it is important?”

We all nodded.

“He sent for me,” I said.

“Very well, then, I’ll tell him you are here.
Please be seated.”

He quietly opened the door to the Captain’s office and slipped inside.
T
he office
was crowded with people
.

We waited.

Finally Avranos returned and motioned for us to enter.

Everyone stopped talking as we entered the room.
The captain’s blue gaze rested on me.

“Well, Miss Marsh, I’m very happy that you could join us, but perhaps the other ladies would wait with Officer Avranos while you
...”

His voice trailed off into silence as I placed the bag in the middle of
his
desk and removed the cover.

“It’s Ruth Shadrach’s missing bag, Captain,” I said.
“Sylvia
had it
in her possession
. She gave it to Monique for safekeeping and
told Monique that it was her insurance.
It may hold some answers.”

Everyone rushed the desk, claiming custody, but Vargos ordered
them all
to step back.
After obtaining gloves and tools from
Avranos, he broke the lock and lifted the lid.

None of Ruth’s things were inside.
Instead, the case was stuffed with cash, U.S. currency, computer USB drives, and passports, lots of passports.

I
t was well into the evening before all the High Steppers had been questioned, along with Monique and anyone who had had more than casual contact with Sylvia.

The computer drives in the bag held more than enough ev
idence to implicate Abe, Fernando
, and that big phony Morgan in an international smuggling and money-laundering scheme.

Abe and Morgan were being questioned by the Russians, and
the authorities
were searching fo
r Fernando
and his driver, neither of whom had returned to the ship.
More arrests would
likely
be forthcoming, we were told, on both sides of the Atlantic, as
the
data was
analyzed.
Abe,
Fernando
and Morgan were apparently only a small part of a very large operation.

But the Russians were adamant. They would not release Jay.
“Not good enough, Miss Marsh, it is not good enough.
We do not believe that Mr. Wilson was in any way involved in the smuggling ring, but he is not under suspicion for smuggling.
He is being questioned in the death of Mrs. Klein. No
evidence exists to absolve him
.
He is still the last person be seen with her before her body was found, and no witnesses
can
corroborate
the
story that he was asleep in his cabin under the influence of alcohol at the time of her death.”

If I hadn’t been ashore pl
aying hide-and-seek with Fernando
I could have been Jay’s alibi.
But no, where was I when my best friend needed me?
Up a tree.

The fat cat from the embassy was no help.

“Í’m
afraid it’s
completely
out of my hands at this point, Miss Marsh,” he said, the wind barely moving his comb
-
over. “Be patient.
These things take time.”

That was easy for him to say.
He wasn’t poor Jay, enduring a Russian police interrogation.

I gathered the High Steppers in the Sunset Lounge.

“Jay was the last person seen with Sylvia on the night of her death, so he is now the prime suspect.
We all know that he would never harm Sylvia or anyone else.
But somehow we have to come up with concrete proof.
If any of you saw or heard anything that might be helpful, please speak up now.
This is no time to remain silent.
Jay needs your help.”

There was a long silence.
No one said anything.

Then, finally, Hannah said, “Monique told us this morning, Sidney, that Sylvia has been on the ship all along, since Stockholm, staying in
Fernando Ortiz’ cabin
, hiding from Abe.
Maybe you should talk to Monique.”

But Monique had nothing to add except a lot of venting about Abe.
“
Z
is bad man.
Why she lives with
z
is bad man
?
She was afraid of
’
im and now
’
e has killed
’
er. I know it!”

“How do you know it, Monique?
Do you have any proof that we could take to the police
?
Anything she told you or gave you other than the red bag?
Anything that might prove that Jay was not the one who killed Sylvia and perhaps the others?”

“Proof!
Pff
!
I do not need proof.
My proof is
’
ere, in my heart!
In my heart I know Abe killed h
er!
M’sieu
r
Ortiz
was working for Sylvia’s husband and
’
e saw her unhappiness. He saw her beauty. Her sweetness.
So
’
e made a plan.
Such a
clever plan!
He arranged to have
’
er things sent ashore in Stockholm so
z
is bad husband would think she was gone.
But all the time she was here, in M
’sieur
Ortiz’
cabin.
Whether
z
ey were lovers or not, I do not know, but it doesn’t matter
.
But I do not think M. Ortiz
would kill
’
er, no?”

No.
He hadn’t killed her and I knew he hadn’t because I had been with him, snuggled up like a sick kitten to a hot rock, or either running scared blue through the backyards of St. Petersburg at the time Sylvia was killed.
Like it or not, I was Fernando’
s alibi, not Jay’s.
My face burned at the thought.

“Proof,” I thought, standing outside Abe’s cabin, waiting for a chance to sneak inside for a once
-
over. “There must be some proof, somewhere.”

Mustapha was the cabin steward for Abe’s cabin.

I found him napping in the steward’s closet.
He woke, startled, when I knocked at the open door, and he immediately started apologizing.

“No, no, no, Mustapha,” I said, “It’s absolutely
okay
for you to grab a little sleep if you can.
You must have had a long night.”

“I did, Miss Marsh, I did, with all that was happening.”

“Mustapha, could you let me in, just for a quick look, into Mr. Klein’s cabin?
He hasn’t returned, has he?”

“He hasn’t returned, Miss Marsh, and he won’t be back.
But h
is things are gone.
They took them away.
The cabin is empty and has already been cleaned.”

“Has anyone besides you been in the cabin since it was cleaned, Mustapha?”

“I did not see anyone, and the cabin was locked.”

“Oh.
Well, thank you, Mustapha.”

Another dead end and still no proof.

“Miss Marsh?” he said.
I turned back to face him.

“The floor was wet
early this morning
outside the cabin.
There was an empty bottle of champagne on the floor, and just outside the door, I found this.”

H
e held up the other half of Sylvia’s leopard string bikini.

Edgar desperately wanted to help Jay out, but couldn’t.

“I’m afraid I’m no help, Sidney, no help at all.
Sylvia slipped into the
hot tub
with us about
one
a.m., wearing the leopard
bikini, both bits.
I left Sylvia and Jay
there
, in the
water
,
when I retired
at
about
two
a.m. and was sleeping soundly, I’m afraid, when the alarm was raised.

“Jay told me that he left the
deck
shortly after I did, leaving Sylvia alone in the hot tub, but I cannot swear that to be true because I had already gone.
I was
just
not there.”

“Did you meet anyone on deck or in the passageway, Edgar?
What about
Abe?”

“I only saw the Murphy family returning from the Midnight Buffet.
Abe was said to be in the Mariner’s Bar alone most of the night, and the bartender is vouching for him,
al
though that particular chap
is known to
accept
, ahem,
tips.
Abe is also saying that he believed, along with the rest of us, that Sylvia left the ship in Stockholm.”

I persisted.
“But what if Abe suddenly discovered her, not in Stockholm at all, but on the ship, living in the cabin of another man?
Or half-naked in the hot tub all alone?
What then?”

“I hate to play devil’s advocate, my darling
. T
hat is an excellent theory, but
w
hat
might
have occurred is of no use.
You need solid proof.”

Proof.
I was back to that word again.
Something that exonerated Jay.
I needed proof.

I went to my favorite spot on the Lido Deck to think.

From there I could see the guards standing on the pier by the gangway. The ship was sealed off.
No one was
being allowed to
enter or
exit
without permission.

I could also see the hot tub, now cordoned off
with police tape
, off limits while the investigation was conducted.
The sun was shining on the hot tub, the motor
was
switched
off, and the
still
su
rface of the water in it was slick and slimy.
A layer of oil
f
loated on top.

I stared at the water.

W
as it suntan oil?
Why would anyone use suntan oil after dark?

I blasted down the outside stair to the hot tub and smelled it on the north wind even before I reached it.

Not suntan oil, bath wash
.
Giorgio
.
Sylvia’s favorite
perfume
.
S
omeone
had dumped it in the water of the hot tub
; t
he heavy fragrance was unmistakable.

And I
knew
at that moment
that Jay was free.

Not only did he hate the
heavy lush scent of the perfume;
he would not, could not, be near it because of his allergy.

If Jay
had been in the water with that oil he would be
wheezing and
all covered in a rash.
And moreover, we could prove it.

Proof! Jay was in the clear.
Either Sylvia had added the perfumed oil to the water after Jay left her or someone else had.

I searched all around the hot tub, and then
plunged my arm
in
to the nearest trashcan. Nasty.
Drink cups.
Wadded-up napkins.
Paper plates with old scraps of food from the Midnight Buffet. Pizza crusts.
And then, I saw it, the
real
golden egg
.
An empty tube of body wash, with the distinctive Giorgio label
.

I didn’t touch it, hoping that fingerprints on the tube might really seal the deal for Jay.
C
over
ing
it back up with trash
, I
went for help.