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Authors: Marie Moore

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Muriel
had
longish fuzzy red hair with bangs
. Her
bulging pale green eyes
seemed
to be
having a hard time focusing.
Jay sa
id those eyes looked
like green grapes.

Muriel wore a
purple
knit blouse two sizes too small with a deep v-neck
. Her
tight orange skirt
had
wide green horizontal stripes, an unfortunate choice.
Mother Nature had not been kind to Muriel
,
and her fashion decisions only made it worse.

In d
oing my duty as shepherd and host, I had turned down an invitation
to
dine at the
c
aptain’s table.
Jay
said
I was out of my mind.
We had
been introduced to
Captain Stephanos Vargos for the first time
on deck
at
the lifeboat drill.

“You’ve got to admit it, Sidney, that captain is absolutely gorgeous.”

“I can see that, Jay.
But I am not interested in the Captain.
He
comes on a little strong for me, and you know
Zoe,
that
tall
, blond agent with
Poseidon
Tours?
She told me this afternoon that she made a play for him a couple of trips back and he told her he is married.”

“If Zoe made a play for me, I’d tell her I was married, too.
Zoe gets around, you know.
I wouldn’t take her word for it.
But I have to tell you
,
Sidney,
any guy
that hot is going to be totally
self-
absorbed
He’s no kid. He’s at least ten years older than you, and he’s been around.
So maybe it’s better for you to leave him alone. Y
ou’ve
attracted
way
too
many of th
ose smooth dudes
already
.
And you can bet your last drachma that
this big Greek
is
macho to the core.

Jay had a point.
Captain Vargos
was
hot
in
his dress whites
as he
presid
ed
over his table
, but I was pretty sure that he was also well-aware of his good looks.
He
is
just
over
six feet tall
a
nd tan
ned
,
with
broad shoulders
and
a lean waist. His hair is thick,
dark
and wavy
and beginning to silver at the temples.
T
here
is
nothing boyish about him.
His
smile
is a man’s smile—arrogant and knowing
.
He leaned down to whisper something in the ear of the woman on his right, and she looked up at him and laughed. Her deep blue silk dress was almost the exact color of his eyes.

“Somebody told me that it’s
okay
to order two of everything if you want to, Miss Marsh.
Is that true?”
Gladys
Murphy brought my attention back to the table.

“Well, yes, you can,
Gladys
, you certainly can
...
and then there is also the Heart He
lper
diet and the Chef’s Suggested Menu, both of which are always excellent.”

“W
ell, I’m just gonna have
two of them prime ribs and
just a
little
tiny
taste of every one of them desserts.
You can keep the veggies.
Don’t
that sound good to you?”

“You bet
, Gladys
.
That certainly sounds wonderful.
J
ust remember to save some room for the Midnight Buffet!”

“Don’t you worry
none
about that
, Miss Marsh
! We wouldn’t miss it
for the world
!
It’s ca
lled Sweet Dreams Buffet
and it’s all desserts. Pete and I will t
ry
everything they got. Muriel might not, though. Muriel has to watch her figure. Did I tell you
already
that she wants a career in show business?
She’s looking for those
bright lights
, aren’t you, Muriel?
Muriel
wants to be a star, don’t you,
honey?”

Muriel ignored her. She was ordering another drink from the cocktail waiter.

A
s Gladys
launched into a long monologue of Muriel’
s performance history, beginning with tap dancing recitals at age four,
I made a mental note to speak
privately
to the maitre d’
after dinner
about a change in table assignments. T
o hell with duty.
The Murphys were pleasant enough people
, but a week can be a
n awfully
long time.

* * *

I have a favorite spot
just above
the Lido deck of the Rapture of the Deep that very few people seem to frequent
. T
hat
is where
I escaped with my wine glass
after
the last of the dessert plates was cleared away.

Before heading for the Lido
deck stairs
I had made a swing around the ship, checking to be sure that everyone was fairly well settled-in and happy.

All the High Steppers seemed to like the ship, with her bright and spacious, elegantly decorated public areas. The Rapture was a good ship, large enough with her eleven
passenger
decks not
to
feel cramped, but not so big as to overwhelm a port with too many p
eople
. She was sleek and modern with clean lines
,
and
her crew kept her
extremely well-maintained.
Her hull was deep and her stabilizers worked well, allowing barely noticeable movement on deck that first night out.
Some ships are built with only Caribbean cruising in mind
and have a hard time handling the rigors of the North Sea or a Trans-Atlantic crossing. The Rapture was designed to take
on
rough seas.

Everyone had been
pleased with t
he staterooms
on the ship
at check-in
,
even Gertrude.

“This is real nice,” she said,
peering into
in
her
closet on arrival. “Not too big, but plenty of room for my things. I’m glad you told us to bring extra hangers, though, Si
dney. Either they cheaped o
ut on that or somebody stole some of them.
I bet someone did steal them. Th
ose hangers are good
, but t
here’s not near
ly
enough.
I don’t like my mattress, though. Tell them to bring me another one.

I always
encourage
my clients to pack some
extra
lightweight
wire hangers
.
The
ship’s
closets have a fair number of
good wooden ones
, but never enough for all the High Steppers’ stuff. I
also recommend
that they pack
a full-sized bar of
their
favorite bath soap
. N
ice but small bath amenities are
always
provided
,
but High Steppers
prefer to stash th
ose
away in their suitcases to take home.

The
staterooms
on the Rapture
were comfortable and spacious, with muted, tasteful colors and small but well
-fitted bathrooms and closets
equipped with in-room safes
.
There were small televisions but no in-room
Internet
access
, as you might
find on many newer ships.
The beds were designed so that they could be set up as twins or a queen, by prearranged preference.

Most of the group had opted for outside cabins. A very few chose the slightly cheaper inside cabins that had no window. Amy and Charlie Wu had a balcony cabin, as did the Johnsons.
Abe Klein and
Brooke Shyler had
each
booked
a suite.

Some
of my group

the ones who hadn’t
ordered room service and gone
straight
to bed
—were attending
the welcome show
immediately after dinner
.
Looking in on the show, I saw that t
he Murphys
had grabbed seats on the front row center of the Broadway Showroom
.
Muriel seemed mesmerized by the dancers. She didn’t miss a move,
bobbing with the music,
smiling and clapping enthusiastically after every number. It was clear that Gladys was correct
; t
he cast
members
,
in their sequined costumes
,
were
apparently living
Muriel’s
dream.
Her longing was painful to watch.
The Johnsons and Angelo Petrone and the Levy sisters were
all
enjoying the show
,
too, but no one was as enthusiastic as Muriel.

I didn’t see any of the other High Steppers
in the audience
. The
missing ones
were probably
all
resting in their cabin
s
, reading the Daily Program for tomorrow, eating pillow mints,
watching the clock so they could be first in line for the
Sweet Dreams
Buffet.

The only
group member
I hadn’t
spotted at all
since we boarded was
Jerome Morgan
.
D
ark, heavy-set and clean-shaven
, Morgan had
close-cut, almost buzz-cut hair and a long
,
hooked nose
. He wore dark sunglasses most of the time and a flashy watch. The watch was the only flashy thing about him
;
otherwise he was very quiet in dress and manner.
W
e
had
little personal information about him.
At Kennedy
,
Morgan
had
told Jay
that he and
Fernando
Ortiz worked for Abe Klein
’s business
,
without
mention
ing
exactly
what
they did.
He
did volunteer
that Abe had paid for their trip as a reward for good job
performance.

Itchy
Feet Travel
(IFT)
sells a lot of incentive travel, usually rewarding top producers in a company
. I
t was hard to imagine
either Jerome
Morgan
or Fernando Ortiz
as super-salesm
e
n.
They did not fit
the glad-handing stereotype.
Both
were too quiet
and
kept to themselves.

Morgan
, who
clammed up when anyone tried to have the simplest conversation with him
, had
disappeared into his cabin the minute we boarded
. N
o one had seen him since.
He was either seasick or
really
anti-social
. J
udging from
his
permanent
scowl
, I voted for Door Number Two.
When he did appear, h
e ju
st watched people with his cold
little eyes.
I guess if you wanted to give him the benefit of the doubt, you could call him
the strong, silent type.

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