1 Shore Excursion (23 page)

See you at dinner.

—
J.P.W., II
(The Magnificent!)

Tonight was a
nother
formal night, so I wiggled into a new black sequined number that I had snatched up, n
o kidding, at
a
Midnight Madness
clearance
sale.
I
twisted my hair up
and secured it with a diamond, well,
rhinestone
pin
.

There.
Jay would approve of this outfit
—
yes, he would.
Maybe it wasn’t totally amazing, but it was close.
I have to admit he was right about th
at
blue dress.
It’s seen better days.

I added long silver and CZ earrings and was digging in my drawer for my evening bag when the
phone rang
.

I picked it up. A mechanical sounding voice
whispered
, “Back off
, Sidney Marsh,
or you are next.”

“Who is this?” I demanded, but my answer was a quiet click. The call had ended.

I hung up and sat down on the bed,
weak-kneed,
my stomach churning.

Great, just great
, I thought.
Now even the perp is in on
Warn Sidney Day
.
I
felt
a now-
too-familiar frisson of fear, but stamped it
firmly
down
with anger
.
I was scared,
but also
just plain mad.
I was determined to maintain that anger
.
It would be my armor.

I
considered
telling Jay, but
if I did, he might insist that I heed the warning. I wasn’t doing that. I wasn’t giving in. Not now
, not
after all that had happened.
After all, if the caller really meant to harm me, he would just do it, not call up and tell me about it
in advance. Robot-
V
oice wasn’t going to hurt me.
I was just being terrorized
again
.
That thought infuriated me.
I
slamm
ed
the door
behind me
and rushed down the passageway
to dinner.

T
he entrées that
evening
included a choice of lobster or prime rib.

Feeling like a Murphy, I ordered both.
Does fear and anger make your hungry? For me, that night, it did
.
I also killed two glasses of wine before the soup course.
Edgar, Jay and
I were seated at Table
Seven
, a small table for four on the far side of the dining room
.
No one else was seated with us.
The High Steppers were seated
some distance away, i
n the middle
of the room
, near the Captain’s table.

Edgar, ever the gentleman, didn’t comment on my gluttony, but Jay never minces words.

“
Oink, oink, Sidney!
Are you ordering two desserts, too?
”
You better ease up on the groceries, sweetie.
That little sparkly dress looks great on you, but
it barely covers your ass as it is
.
”

“You’re just jealous of my dress, Jay, because you can’t wear it,” I shot back.

“Now, now, children,” Edgar said, “Stop quarrelling and gaze upon Mrs. Petrone.
Ah, there’s a sight to behold
!
A vision in scarlet!”

Angelo and Maria Petrone were just being seated
across the room
at Table Six
. S
he was, indeed,
beyond
amazing, in a very low-cut red and gold satin dress with a lot of gold fringe and spark
les and a slit up the front of t
he skirt.
This was a dress for a
pop-tart
, not a woman of her age
.

All the High Steppers were dressed in their finest. Hannah, Ethel and Gertrude
had fresh hairdos from the beauty salon, and were wearing tea-length dresses
in dusty rose, ice blue, and mauve
.

Chet Parker, the Johnsons, and Brooke were seated at the Captain’s table.
Both of the men were in black
-
tie; Maxine wore
a
green silk knit dress that had to be a St. John, and Brooke was
classic
, of course, in a
long
white Dior.

“Captain Vargos is watching you, my darling,” Edgar said, “have you noticed?”

Are you kidding me? I thought. I noticed.
Believe me,
I noticed.

“C
heck out the
Murphy
family
,” Jay said
.
“
The fashion police need to make an arrest at Table Four.”

Pete Murphy was squeezed into an ill-fitting rental tux from the gift shop. H
is
hot pink cummerbund
was coordinated with
Gladys’
garish
lime green and pink sequin
gown
.
Daughter
Muriel’s skin and fuzzy red hair were not enhanced by her tight,
very
low-cut, green
-
bean colored dress.

Muriel
glanced
in our direction
.
Her
round green eyes glow
ed
,
accented
by
gigantic
false lashes.
Her thick scarlet lips parted in a dreadful smile.
But s
he wasn’t
focused on
us
. S
he was watching
Table
Eighteen
by the window,
where
Fernando Ortiz
sat,
deep in conversation
,
with a short, Middle-Eastern man.

“Hoo, boy
, h
e better
look
out
,
” Jay snorted
.
“I’m glad she doesn’t have the hots for me!”

“
I am told that s
he aspires to be an actress and a singer,” Edgar said. “
I
interrupted her
terrible
singing
yesterday
when I
went
into the Broadway Showroom for
my
rehearsal.
Completely off-key.
A horrible experience! She said she was practicing for the talent show, and I could tell that she truly believes that she will win.
Very sad, really.
”

Edgar looked at his watch
, placed
his napkin on the table,
and
push
ed
back his chair.
“I must be off now, my dears.
I am scheduled to play Beethoven tonight in the Boom Boom Room.
Such a travesty!”

After Edgar left, I laid out my plan for Jay, who agreed, I think, just to keep the peace and get me off his back
. A
ll he really cared about
at this point
was getting this gig over with and
returning
to New York pronto.
I didn’t tell him about
my robo-call warning
and I still hadn’t shared my
own
horrible
experience
in the Broadway Showroom.
I was keeping all that to myself for the time-being.
I thought
Jay
might back out on the investigation of Al
’s room,
and this was our first and only
crack
at it.
Jay
can be
a big chicken.

I felt the Captain watching me
again
, but I w
ouldn’t meet his eyes.

He wo
n’t catch me alone for any more little chats
or to give me any more orders
until I’ve solved our myst
ery
, I
vowed
.
After
that, we’ll
have to
see
.

The meal ended with
C
herries
J
ubilee, sort of a shipboard staple
. Like Baked Alaska, it is served
aflame and
is prepared tableside
by the headwaiters.
T
hey
must believe
th
ese
culinary demonstrations e
nhance their chances for big tips at the end of the cruise.

It doesn’t
, at least as far as the
High Steppers
are concerned. They
figure
everything is
part of the deal
.
They won’t pay one dime for
extra
s
.

Still, the flaming ceremony is pretty, and the dessert,
a cruise-ship
staple
,
is
yummy.
Jay and I both lapped it up
and lingered over coffee
. H
e
spared me
any more cracks about my appetite for food or drink
, having
put away more than his share of both.

By now, the dining room was almost empty.
The captain had left his table
. T
he High Steppers
always
rush out right after dessert so they can fight for front-row seats for the
cabaret
.

After dinner we stood at the doors of the Broadway Showroom until we
were pretty sure that most
of the High Steppers were seated and enjoying the show.

Then
we
headed for Bostick’s cabin.

“S
omeone’s coming.
I hear someone coming.
Quick, quick, quick
!
Into the closet.
Quick!
Turn off your light.”

Jay and
I dove into the closet
in Bostick’s cabin,
burrow
ing
behind the man’s
nasty old clothes just as the footsteps stopped outside the door.
We
had just
begun our search and
now here we were, Laurel and Hardy, stuffed in
to
the
tiny
closet.
Barely breathing, we heard the cabin door open.

I expected it to be the steward, but the overhead light remained off.
Whoever had joined us also preferred darkness.

Not a good sign.

Under the door I could see a thin beam of light moving along the floor, probably looking under the bed.
I held my breath and prayed.

Soft footsteps moved closer
. A
cabinet door
open
ed
.
A pause, then the sound of a
door clos
ing
.
A
dresser drawer glide
d
open
ed next
.

Great. Just great
.
Someone else was searching the cabin.
The closet would be next and then we were busted. I tried to press deeper into the smelly darkness but there was little room, especially with Jay trying to do the same thing.

The closet door slid
partially
open
, the tiny light beamed in,
and a gloved hand began to slide the hangers along the rod on Jay’s side. I felt him shudder.

Just at that moment, we heard
a distant clatter
from
far down the long passageway
. The hand froze for a moment, then withdrew.
The closet door slid shut, and we heard the soft footsteps moving
quickly
away.

I could smell Bostick’s shoes and my own sweat.

The pencil beam
clicked off
, and I heard the cabin door quietly open and close.

“I think I just peed in my pants,” Jay whispered.

“Thank you for sharing,” I whispered back.

We heard
distant
voices
approaching
in the
passageway, becoming clearer as they approached
.
As soon as they passed, we
would be able to
slip out, too.
I heard Jay exhale, but we did not move a muscle or make an
y
other sound.
The voices
and the metallic clattering sound
were directly outside the cabin now
—
deep voices, Russian.
We waited for them to continue
past the cabin
, but instead they stopped, opened the cabin door, switched on the lights, and entered.

Heavy footsteps.
One of them said something
that earned
hearty
laugh
s
from the others
.
T
he bathroom door open
ed
.
A
toilet
flushed
. Then I heard wheels, and thuds, and drawers opening and realized that the cabin’s contents were being loaded on a cart.
I
knew then that i
t had to be crew, with orders to clean out the cabin.

Our only hope of escaping discovery was if the cart was
small and
filled before they got to the closet.
I knew t
he linens would take up
a fair amount of
room,
but
Bostick hadn’t had much stuff.

The bed creaked under the weight of one of the men, and
I heard paper rustling
, pages turning, then chuckling, followed by
comments in Russian
and
more laughter.
A pager beeped, the bed creak
ed
again and t
he cart thudded against the doorway
.
Then
they were gone, locking the door behind them.

We stumbled out of the closet
and
into the room. I realized I was trembling.

“Holy
moley,
that was close
!
You
r bright ideas
almost
did us in
this time, Sidney.
We
’ve
got to get out of here before either those Russians or
our other friend
comes back.
It’s like a freeway in here. They must have posted a notice somewhere that this cabin had been released.
”

I
glanced
around
the room
, hoping against hope to find something
, anything
,
quickly that would make
our risk
worthwhile. E
verything belonging to Bostick except the stuff in the closet had been removed
, and we had already determined that
the closet
contained nothing
but
a few
nasty old clothes.

Jay stuck his
arm
under the bed and came out with a bondage magazine.

“Looks like those guys missed this one when they looted old Bostick’s stash.
Thank God for chains and leather.
If they hadn’t found th
is
juicy
stuff
they might have had time to look in the closet
before they were called away
.
Let’s get out of here. I
f Ruth’s red bag was ever in this room,
it’s gone now. S
omeone
must have
beat
en
all of us to it.
Come on.
Let’s get the hell out, Sidney.
Now
, before
t
he
phantom
returns for another look.”

Back in
our
cabin, Jay locked the door and then we hashed everything out, beginning with my first sighting of the homeless guy in New York.
I finally
told
Jay
all
about recognizing the guy on the carousel
after receiving the note at the restaurant
and
the details of
my horrible night in the Broadway Showroom.
He was shocked and sobered.
After
that, and
our little
evening
adventure in Al’s closet, I had Jay’s full attention
. H
e was finally taking me seriously.

“O
kay,
Sidney,
I admit it. You are right. T
he fun and games are over.
Our visitor
in the dark tonight had a knife. I saw it on the table when
the closet door opened
, reflected in the beam of the flashlight.
I do not,
not
like knives.
I wasn’t too worried when I thought The Strangler was lurking around because I’m pretty big and it would take someone even bigger to strangle me.
But knives are another thing. Knives are really bad.
I don’t do knives.
I am not ending up as sushi.”

“A knife, Jay? Really, a knife?”

“A real knife. Long. Sharp.”

“Okay.” I took a deep breath. “Okay. Well.” I took another long breath. “Let’s t
ry to stay on t
ask, Jay.
You were asking about
the h
omeless
guy
.”

“O
kay
, ok
ay
.
Shelve Jack the Ripper.
Back to the homeless guy.
When you saw him in New York,
Sid,
were you afraid of him?”

“Well, yeah,
sort of,
especially when Eddie said he saw him on my steps.
But he can’t be the killer, Jay
,
because Homeless
Guy
is dead.
Besides, if he’d wanted to kill me, he wouldn’t have warned me with a note.
”

“Homeless
Guy
never really did anything to you
,
did he?
Never said anything?”

“No. Not in New York. He followed me, and
yelled at me
once
to stop
,
but I couldn’t hear what he said. H
e never
said anything I could understand
until we were on the ship
,
and I didn’t realize even then tha
t it was him.”

“
What?
Homeless
Guy
was on the ship?”

“He was on the ship, and he warned me about the deck being dangerous
.
I thought
he meant
slippery
because
the deck was wet and the sea was rough,
but maybe it was more than that
.”

“How did you know it was
the same man
and why didn’t you say anything about it?”

“Because I didn’t realize it was him at the time
. H
e was dressed differently, like a
crewman.
You know how hard it can be sometimes to
recognize
someone out of context
.
I
t was only later that I knew
it.
Something about the way he walked … and
his eyes,
Jay,
they were a weird color, kind of muddy
gray
-green.
I remembered his eyes.”

“And then you didn’t see him again until
...”

“Tivoli. On the carousel. Dead.
I’m almost positive the note
I got in the restaurant
was from him.
”

“But how was Homeless
Guy
connected to you,
and us
and the High Steppers? To Ruth and Bostick?”

“I don’t know, Jay.
I’ve thought and thought about it and I can’t come up with any answers that make sense.
I
think now that he might not have been a homeless person at all and
that the homeless thing was just
a
cover, but for what?
For who? I’m convinced that
the note the waiter gave me in the restaurant at Tivoli came from him. I think he wanted to meet me, talk with me, at the carousel but I was delayed and he was killed before I got there. I believe now that
he followed
me
,
followed us,
around
New York and
halfway around the world
.
I
just don’t know why.”

“What about Ruth and Bostick?
Could they have had a connection with Homeless
Guy
?”

“I can’t imagine how, unless they were involved in something with
out knowing it.
But what?
They
both
led
pretty simple lives.”

“Well, I guess, but we didn’t know about their special relationship until Bostick told you, did we?
Maybe they had other secrets, too.”

“Oh, please.
An occasional boodle on the Jersey shore in no way compares with whatever’s going on here.
This is heavy stuff.”

“It all goes back to the High Steppers, though, Sidney.
There’s something going on with the High Steppers and that missing red bag.
The other passengers on the Rapture don’t seem to be involved, just us. We think we know this bunch pretty well, but do we?
How much do we really know about them as individuals?
What if one of them is a Lizzie Borden?
A Son of Sam?
We need to take a harder look at the High Steppers. You’re always Googling people.
Have you
thought to
Google the High Steppers?”