1 Shore Excursion (9 page)

He opened one eye and looked at me, then closed it again and continued.
“
Ruth Shadrach is D
—
E
—
A
—
D, dead, dear girl.
And I think that as soon as old Itchy finds out about it, you and I are, too.
They don’t like it when messy stuff happens on their tours.
Looks bad for the company.
Bad for business.
Bad for the ship.
Bad for you.
Bad for me.

“
So have a drink
on the house
while you can, s
h
weetheart, have two.
Have three.
You might as well.”

I stormed off down to
the cabin only to find that Abdul
, the room steward, was in there vacuuming.
He immediately tried to leave.
Stewards pride themselves
o
n never letting you catch them cleaning
.
I grabbed my clipboard and pen, told
Abdul
to carry on, and left.

The library was
—
hallelujah
—
empty.

I sat down at the table facing the ocean
and fumed about Jay.
Most of the time, like I said, he’s great.
But when the whisky captures him, as my Uncle Earl would say, he’s impossible.

Jay or no Jay, something had to be done.
We had attempted to reach
my boss Diana at
Itchy for instructions right after I spoke with Dr. Sledge, but
had been
told that all communications were
still
down because of the weather.
Now with no Jay and no Itchy, it looked like everything was pretty much up to me.

I
switched on the desk lamp and began to write
, making
a list of all the High Steppers, beginning with the one I had known th
e longest.

1.
Mrs. Weiss (Hannah), 88, oldest of the group, plump and short with grizzled hair and a Miss America grin, been around the world twice, considers herself the leader. On long bus trips, she brings a deli in her purse.

2.
Ethel Goldstein, 84, Mr
s. Weiss’ roommate, best friend
and rival.
Fashionably thin, Bloomingdale’s wardrobe and big black-framed bifocals. HER purse contains a pharmacy.

3.
Dr. and Dr. Johnson (Fred and Maxine), tall, retired economics professor from Columbia and his equally tall, history professor wife.
Black, early 70s,
highbrow types.
D
edicated travel
ers; in recent
years,
mostly
with us.

4.
Mr. Bostick (Al),
79
, retired theater owner from the Jersey shore.
Widower.
Long, oily,
iron-
gray hair and a
lecherous
grin.
Will grab
or pinch
if you get within range.
Loves to gamble, complains
and swears
a lot.
Jay says he’s a pain in the ass, but I think he’s just lonesome.

5.
Mrs. F
letcher (Gertrude
), 79, retired NYU librarian.
Tight
gray
perm, wears sensible knits and stout shoes, day and night.
Now living with her daughter (obviously a saint) in upstate New York. I think
Gertrude’s
the pain in the ass.
Daughter’s husband pays for her trips.

6.
Brooke Shyler, 83, flaming red hair, socialite, upper East
S
ide penthouse, loves travel.
Rail thin and patrician, with classic features, expensive high fashion clothing, and a warm smile.

7.
Angelo and Maria Petrone, 75ish, from Queens.
Angelo worked his way up to owning a building contracting business while Maria raised six children, most of whom are now working in the family business. He is still muscular, but is developing a gut and has short thick gray hair, tattoos on his biceps, and a booming laugh. Maria is dark and still pretty but carrying a bit too much weight now for her small frame. She bought
a rainbow of
polyester pantsuits for the trip and sparkly evening clothes.

8.
Charlie and Amy Wu, 60s, second
-
generation restaurateurs from Chinatown.
The Wus are short, almost the same height, and are energetic, fit, and well-dressed. They own a lot of real estate and at least two profitable businesses in Chinatown and are rumored to be involved in many more, perhaps even some shadowy ones. Very pleasant people who are good customers of our agency, but do not mingle much
with the group,
preferring to book side trips on their own.

9
.
The Levy sisters, Marjorie and Esther.
Outspoken and very liberal, politically active types from the
Upper
West
S
ide.
Both have a lot of gray hair left
over
from the ’60s; Marjorie’s is
long and pulled back into a ponytail, Esther’s is short and wiry. No makeup, no bras, Birkenstock sandals with socks. S
econd trip with IFT, don’t expect they’ll be regulars.

10. Chet Parker, slim, medium height, 3
0ish, antiques dealer from Chelsea
. Hair highlighted blond and carefully cut. Blue eyes, fine features. New to the group
.
Fastidious dresser with high fashion clothing and accessories. God only knows what he’s doing with the High Steppers.

11. The Murph
ys, father Pete, mother
Gladys
,
fat, sad-looking daughter Muriel
, first cruise,
triple cabin,
from Brooklyn.
Pete is tall and rangy with big rounded shoulders, coarse features and a big crooked nose that once must have been broken. Gladys favors loud pantsuits with flowered print nylon blouses by day, fussy bejeweled and fringed evening wear by night. All Gladys’
clothes are too tight for her a
nd
she accents them
with lots of costume jewelry. Her maroon hair is backcombed and curled
.
She talks all the time, leaving little for Pete to say. Muriel is beyond overweight and she, like her mother, has garish taste in clothes. She
wears too much makeup and
has a lot of longish fuzzy red hair, thick lips, pasty skin and bulging green eyes
that
sometimes do not focus well because of her fondness for alcohol.

12.
Abe Klein (74) and his wife Sylvia (28), from the Lower East Side. Abe’s trave
led
with us in the past, with the former Mrs. Klein.
Abe is short, tanned,
big beak of a nose
and barrel-chested
. He
exudes an aura of power
,
although he says little except when exhibiting his explosive temper. He is obviously used to being obeyed. His clothes are not off the rack, but are custom-made and clearly expensive though flashy. So is his big diamond ring and watch.
He met Sylvia in Vegas
, where she was working as a cocktail waitress in a casino. She is small, blue-eyed and
platinum
blonde with a bust that does not occur in nature and a huge wardrobe featuring lots of animal prints
.

13. Jerome Morgan
, (4
0
)
Bronx address,
background unknown
, business associate of Abe Klein
.
Cold,
silent
,
frowner. Dark, with very close-cut hair and conservative clothes and accessories, except for a large gold Rolex.
New to the group.

14. Fernando Ortiz
, (
38
),
Manhattan address, no other information except that he, too, is a business associate of Abe’s
.
Good-looking guy, somewhat intimidating. Just under six feet, with a slim but muscular build, longish, dark straight hair and a wicked smile that is both fascinating and sort of repellent
.
New to the group.

15.
Ruth Shadrach, (
7
7), deceased.

16.
Jay, Devon, and Me.

There you have it.
The High Steppers.
I had finished my notes, but even thinking as hard as I could, I now knew exactly nothing that I hadn’t already known.
No motives, no suspects, no connections to Ruth other than the obvious ones, nothing strange. Well, nothing stranger than some of the people themselves and the situation in which we found ourselves.

But I did have the beginnings of an idea.

I couldn’t do all the investigating myself.
The ship was too big, the time too short, officialdom too uncooperative, and it looked as if Jay wasn’t going to be of much use.
But what about the High Steppers themselves?
Old ladies in particular are the nosiest people on earth, and the most tenacious.
Once they set their minds on something they do not let it go.
The High Steppers, or at least some of them, could help me snoop.

There was also something
in the back of my mind that kept
bothering me, something that
I had seen or heard that
wasn’t exactly right,
something or someone who didn’t fit,
if I could just remember it.

Because I was
sitting there all alone,
staring out at the sea, thinking hard, junior G-man at work, it took a few minutes for me to feel that icy thrill you get when you realize that someone is watching you.

I whirled around just in time to see the library door swing shut.

J
umping up from the desk, I jerked the door open and looked both ways down the corridor, but whoever had been standing behind me had vanished.
The only person I could see was a waiter approaching,
r
inging the lunch chimes with a little rubber mallet.

It
had
probably
been
a crew member, hoping to vacuum, but unnerved and weak-kneed
.
I sat down on the brown leather sofa, shivering, as
it dawned on me
for the first time
just how serious this
situation was
.

If Ruth really
had been
murdered
—
and she
had been, that was clear—
I would have to be very careful in my snooping
so as
not to put the High Steppers or Jay and myself in any
additional
danger.

Stay in a group and w
atch your back, Sidney Lanier Marsh, watch your back.
And their backs, too.

The lunch chimes reminded me that I had skipped breakfast (not my usual pattern) and that I was starving.
Maybe having the pants scared off you makes you hungrier. I stuffed my list in my bag and headed for the stairs.

Fred and Maxine Johnson were scanning the rows and rows of
“
welcome aboard
”
shots on the
display
racks outside the photo gallery, looking for their picture.
They were so intent on their search that they didn’t even see me as I passed, and I didn’t disturb them.
I shivered at the thought that
the murderer might be staring back at me from one
of those shots.

As
I passed through the casino on the way to the dining room,
I noticed that although
Mr. Bostick looked as if he hadn’t budged since last night, Maria Petrone wasn’t there. She must have run out of quarters.
Gladys Murphy sat at the slot machine
close
behind him where Maria had been
.
Muriel
stood
by her side, showing way too much cleavage and fogging a beer
.
I never saw anyone drink beer that fast unless they were in some kind of competition
.

Sylvia Klein, wearing a
short,
turquoise terry cover-up and leopard-print flip-flops, was perched
on the next stool, at the dollar slot, with a matching beach bag on the floor beside the stool. It had the letters S and K monogrammed on it in gold.

Bostick tried to snag me as I passed
by
.
“Hey, toots, don’t ya have time for an old man?”

“Not right now, Al,” I smiled
,
keeping my distance
. “Lunch is ready.
Didn’t you hear the chimes?
Aren’t you hungry?”

“Nah, I’ll grab a pizza later.”

He clutched my arm and pulled me
toward him
.
For an old guy, he was really quick, and really strong.

“When you get time, doll, I wanna have a little gab with you about Ruthie.”

His bleary old eyes filled with tears.
He wiped them quickly with a
dirty old
handkerchief and blew his nose.

He had my full attention now.
He was so busy honking into the handkerchief that I managed to slip out of his grip and put a barstool between us.
He reached for me, but patted Muriel on the
rear
instead.
She was thrilled.
Her face turned bright red.

“Ruthie?”
I said.
“Do you mean Ruth Shadrach?”

“Yeah, Ruthie.”

He cleared his throat.

“She left a bag in my room Sunday night, see?
Said for me to give it to you sometime.
Said it wasn’t hers, that it got delivered to her by mistake, and that one of her bags was missing, her red traincase.
This one is a red traincase, too, but she said it wasn’t hers.
I don’t know.
They looked the same to me
, but her key don’t fit this one, so I guess she was right.
She tried to call your room to tell you about it, but you didn’t answer. I guess you was getting to know o
n
e of them sailors.”

He leaned across the barstool and
s
tole
a
look
down my shirt.
“I could bring it by your cabin later tonight sometime,” he said, “and we
can
pry it open and
take a
peek
at it in private if you like, just the two of us.
What time are you gonna be there?”

I took a
nother
step backward.

“I don’t really know, Al, but if you really want to bring it by, anytime is fine.
If I’m not there, just give it to Jay Wilson.
He and I are sharing a cabin now, you may have heard, and I’m sure he’d like to talk with you about Ruth, too.

He backed off then and settled back on the stool at the blackjack table.

I had to ask.
“Al, what was Ruth Shadrach doing in your room Sunday night?
She told the others that she was going to bed early.”

“That she did,” he winked, smiling to himself, “that she did.
Ruthie and me had a little something going on the side, see.
She wasn’t no babe like you or nothing, but she was al
l
right. You know what I mean?
Don’t ever count out them quiet ones.
Sometimes she rode the bus all the way out to my crib in Jersey for a weekend.
Ruthie the Riveter I called her. Ruthie was a good old girl.”

He grinned and reached
for
me
one more time
, but I moved faster than
he did.
“See ya later, cutie pie!” he yelled.

Bells started ringing at the dollar slot machine
when I was almost out of the casino, so I paused and looked back.
Sylvia had gotten lucky. She had a pay-off.
Al ignored the bells and the rain of coins spilling into the metal tray at Sylvia’s machine. He was frowning, concentrating on the cards h
e’
d been dealt.

Muriel looked annoyed at Sylvia’s good fortune, and Gladys was loudly complaining
to anyone who would listen that
the machines
were
all
rigged
. She climbed off her stool in a huff and
headed
toward the dining room,
Muriel
lumbering
after her.

I didn’t stick around to defend the casino. I w
as out of there.

When I got to the dining room, the door was open and the inevitable line outside was gone
;
the early-birds
were
already seated.

My bunch was scattered among four large tables and two smaller ones on the port side.
Abe
Kl
ein
weren’t
present
.
I had seen
Abe
earlier
,
stretched out on the terry-covered lounges
among the potted palms that surrounded
the Catalina Pool.
The Rapture has a retractable roof
that
can be closed
in cold weather
, transforming
the heated pool and deck area around it into a s
olarium
.
A buffet lunch i
n
an adjacent dining room is always available, served in casual cafeteria style
for
those guests who prefer a less formal meal
. The dress code is relaxed
—
pretty much anything goes.

Lunch
in the main dining room
on board
the Rapture is
open seating, meaning that you can theoretically sit where you choose
. I
n reality, the dining room staff tries to pair you up with others, filling each available seat at a table before ushering anyone on to the next one.

They say that this
practice
encourage
s
camaraderie among the passengers, but it real
ly just makes it easier for the staff
.

Because some passengers dislike this
routine
and the assigned seating at dinner
as well
, some cruise lines
are now offering
true open seating
. The ships of those lines
present
a choice of restaurants
and meal times.
Besides the main dining room and buffet, meals
are also served in
smaller, themed restaurants
that
require reservations and come with a surcharge.
We urge individual clients who are deciding on a cruise to
always
consider which style of d
ining they prefer before choosing a ship
.
Some passengers are enthusiastic in their praise of
the newer meal arrangements. Others prefer the more traditional routine.

Luckily, when I arrived
at the dining room
there was no maitre d’ or assistant maitre d’ at the door to seat me.
They were all busy seating others.

I paused just inside the door for a quick scan of the room, not wanting to have to eat with damn frolicking Jay and company.
I didn’t see him and didn’t want to even guess where he might be.
I was still
plenty
mad at him, and though I knew we would eventually make up, I was not ready for that olive branch just yet.

I walked quickly past the High Steppers enclave, smiling
and
waving, and settled at a small table near the window
.

I looked out at the whitecaps on the waves without really seeing them.
The ship was bouncing around pretty good now, despite the stabilizers.
Every now and then you could hear something else crash in the kitchen.
I didn’t care.
I’m a good sailor, never get seasick, and
Empress has lots of dishes
. M
y mind was
busy
grappling
with the
disturbing
image of Bostick and Ruth as
a duo.

“May I?”

I looked up at a spanking white uniform, immaculate
,
crisply pressed and replete with gold braid.
It was Captain Vargos
.

He seated himself across from me without waiting for an answer.
In my experience,
some
cruise ship captains equate their personal magnetism with that of film stars, and this one
seemed to be
no exception.

Rahim, the busboy, filled our water glasses and
handed us lunch menus
.
The head
waiter approached our table with two eager-looking passengers, but after a glance from Vargos, he seated them elsewhere.
Their faces fell.
Passengers love to dine with the captain.

“There now, Captain Vargos,
” I said,
“
you’ve disappointed your public.
And isn’t it rather unusual for you to be in the dining room at lunch?”

I closed the menu and willed the waiter to appear.

“It is indeed unusual, Miss Marsh,” he said, leaning forward, “but then
,
this is an unusual voyage, and you are an unusual lady.
May I call you Sidney?
I have sent you one dinner invitation already that you have ignored, but now that we have this crisis on our hands it is imperative that we meet.
We must work very closely together.
It is essential,
n’est-ce pas
?
So
I am here today for th
e express purpose of having
lunch with you.
I left orders to be informed when you arrived.”

Rahim offered bread and a wink, and the sommelier opened a bottle of white wine.

Antonio, the waiter
,
appeared for our order.