Misfortune (and Gouda)

by Pierce, Blake

  “Hey, look! There’s a really big ship coming right at us!”

  Honey was peering through her husband Gus’s binoculars. The colorful middle-aged couple was on their honeymoon, and they seemed to be having a great time on the riverboat tour. On a day like this, Honey’s dyed red hair appeared to actually glow in the sunlight.

  Gus grabbed the binoculars from his wife and looked for himself.

  “Holy smoke, that thing is huge!” Gus said. “It looks way too big for river travel—big enough to sail on the ocean. And if somebody doesn’t change course, it’s liable to plow right into us!”

  A few other passengers stared ahead and murmured with alarm.

  With a reassuring laugh, London said, “Don’t worry, there’s not going to be a collision. Gus, Honey, please pass the binoculars around so others can have a look.”

  The next person to look through the binoculars spoke up.

  “Why, that’s not a ship at all. It looks like some kind of a building rising right out of the water.”

  London referred to the article she’d found on her cellphone.

  “It’s called Pfalzgrafenstein Castle, and it takes up almost the entire little island where it was built. The tall tower in the middle looks like the bridge of a huge ship, doesn’t it? And the part of its surrounding wall facing us certainly looks like a prow. When the French author Victor Hugo first saw the castle, he described it as ‘a ship of stone, eternally afloat upon the Rhine, and eternally lying at anchor.’”

  London paused to make sure that everybody was getting a turn looking through the binoculars.

  “The castle was built during the 14th century as a toll-collecting station. You see, there used to be a dangerous cataract in the river to the left of the island, so ships couldn’t pass that way. They had to pass through the narrower channel on the right. A chain was stretched between the castle and the village on the shore, so boats couldn’t pass without paying a toll.”

  “Did the castle belong to another evil archbishop?” one of the passengers asked jokingly.

  London laughed and replied, “No, but the toll collectors there were strict and not very nice. Boaters who couldn’t pay their fees were locked up in the castle’s dungeon. I don’t know how they ever got out. I guess somebody had to pay their fees for them.”

  “Or maybe some of them never did get out,” Honey added sadly.

  London noticed a couple of her listeners fidgeting and yawning, although most of them still seemed interested in what she had to say. She also felt her own voice becoming a bit hoarse.

  “Well, it’s getting pretty late,” she told them. “And it’s time for me to wrap things up, I hope everybody has enjoyed my rambling little lecture.”

  The group gave her another generous round of applause and then began to break up and start to leave.

  “Great job,” Honey Jarrett said loudly as she and Gus made their past London. Gus just nodded, but at least he was smiling.

  “Thank you so much,” another woman said on her way to the elevators.

  Finally, London waved at the last departing passenger, and looked at Sir Reggie, still sleeping on the chair.

  “So what do you think, pal?” she asked. “Did I carry that off as well as Emil would have?”

  Sir Reggie yawned and covered his eyes with his paws.

  “Everybody’s a critic,” London chuckled, picking up the tired little animal and carrying him toward the stairs. “Well, I certainly have a new respect for how tough Emil’s job can be. I just wish I knew where he was and why he skipped his lecture. Do you have any idea?”

  Sir Reggie yawned again.

  “I didn’t think so,” London said. “Let’s check and see how things are going in the lounge.”

  London carried Reggie down a flight of stairs to the Menuetto deck, where he gently wiggled loose and began to trot alongside her again. They went into the Amadeus Lounge, which was still swarming with business.

  Elsie, still working behind the bar, didn’t look happy. And London quickly saw why. When Amy had skipped out on her lecture, she had apparently come back here to help out again.

  The concierge was at the drinks station, reciting orders to Elsie.

  “… and I need a White Russian and a Margarita for table five, and a Tom Collins and a bottle of stout for table eight, and a pitcher of beer with three glasses for table 10, and two screwdrivers for table five …”

  Rolling her eyes at London, Elsie interrupted Amy.

  “You just said you needed a White Russian and a Margarita for table five.”

  “Did I say that? Well … I guess they need two screwdrivers too.”

  Elsie sighed tiredly and pointed toward the table in question. She said, “There are only two people sitting at table five.”

  “Are there? Oh, that’s right. I meant the screwdrivers were for table five and the White Russian and the Margarita are for table six.”

  “There’s only one customer seated at table six,” Elsie said, pointing again.

  “Is there? Well, maybe he’s really thirsty.”

  Elsie rolled her eyes again.

  “I don’t think that’s it, Amy,” she said.

  Amy looked truly flustered now.

  “I guess I need to go back and ask again,” Amy muttered.

  Elsie gently tugged the list out of Amy’s hand.

  “Oh, you don’t need to do that,” she said. “Things are slowing down here, so you should enjoy the rest of your evening. Just let me keep this list, and my team and I will take things from here.”

  “Are you sure?” Amy asked.

  “Quite sure.”

  “Well,” Amy said, “I hope I’ve been of some help.”

  “Uhm-hmm,” Elsie said with a polite but noncommittal nod.

  Elsie shook her head at London as Amy headed on out of the lounge.

  “Thank goodness she’s going,” Elsie said when Amy was out of earshot. “If she’d rechecked the orders, she’d only have made a bunch of new mistakes. Do me a favor, London. The next time the bar gets clobbered with business like it did today, make sure the River Troll doesn’t help me out.”

  “How am I supposed to do that?” London asked with a laugh.

  “I don’t know. Tie her up and lock her in her room, maybe. Meanwhile, do you think you could straighten out this little mess?”

  “I’ll see what I can do,” London said. “But don’t let her ever hear you call her by that name.”

  With Sir Reggie trotting attentively beside her, London quickly circulated among Amy’s tables and asked some customers to repeat their orders. It turned out that the White Russian and the Margarita were for table three. The sole customer at table six actually wanted a very dry vodka martini. Amy had been right about the screwdrivers, though. They really were for table five.

  London returned and recited the corrections to Elsie, who continued mixing the drinks. Meanwhile, London’s stomach was starting to rumble with hunger.

  “Could you give me some chips to snack on while I work?” London asked.

  “No,” Elsie said, shaking the martini.

  London’s eyes widened with surprise.

  “Uh … why not?” she asked.

  “Because I took the liberty of ordering a sandwich for you from the kitchen.”

  “You didn’t need to do that. I won’t have time to eat it.”

  “Yes, you will. A lull is starting to settle in. I’ll put you on break for a few minutes. I’ll use force if need be. How long has it been since you’ve eaten anything?”

  “Well, since lunch, I guess, but—”

  “Then you need your energy. You look exhausted.”

  “I guess I kind of am,” London admitted.

  “I take it Emil never showed up for his lecture,” Elsie said.

  “Well, he did, but then he scurried away right when he saw that I was covering for him.”

  “What’s with that guy lately?”

  “Let me know when you figure it out,” London
said. “He and Amy are both behaving pretty oddly.”

  Elsie finished making the drinks, and London headed off among the tables with the newly loaded tray. Sir Reggie stayed right at her side, skillfully managing to never get underfoot as she served the drinks and delighting customers just by his presence.

  London soon managed to get the right drinks to the right customers. As she mentally prepared herself to circulate among the tables taking new orders, her eyes fell upon an especially dour-looking customer sitting alone at a table.

  The little old man was hunched over his drink staring morosely into space.

  London wondered, what could be wrong? The last time she’d seen this passenger, he was having a great time.

  She looked down at Sir Reggie and shook her head.

  “An unhappy customer,” she said to the dog. “This is unacceptable. Come on, let’s get to work.”

  CHAPTER FOUR

  As London approached his table, the hunched, hawk-nosed, squinty-eyed man didn’t look up from his glass. His expression and posture worried London. Tonight, Stanley Tedrow looked very much the same as when she’d first encountered him, holed up alone in his stateroom. He’d been so intent on writing his novel that he’d taken all meals in his room and completely ignored the first two stops on the tour.

  But he’d made a complaint to the captain about her barking dog.

  Then it had been Mr. Tedrow’s idea for London to have a doggie door installed into her stateroom door, so Sir Reggie could come and go as he pleased. That had solved the barking problem. And London had thought the problem of this passenger’s lonely cruise had been solved when she’d seen him hanging out with Bob Turner, the Nachtmusik’s so-called “security chief.” He had seemed to be enjoying himself, but now he clearly was not.

  Even so, she wondered …

  Maybe I shouldn’t bother him.

  One lesson she’d learned in the service industry is that not everybody wanted to be cheered up. Sometimes the best thing she could do in her line of work was to leave people alone.

  But somehow, she couldn’t quite do that with Mr. Tedrow. His enjoyment of the cruise had been something of a personal “project” for London.

  Of course, she knew one perfectly professional way to try to start a conversation.

  “Are you ready for another drink, Mr. Tedrow?” she asked.

  “Huh?” Mr. Tedrow said, looking up blankly.

  Before London could repeat her question, Sir Reggie let out a friendly yap.

  Mr. Tedrow’s squinty eyes opened a bit more widely.

  “Oh, hi there, Sir Reggie,” he said to the dog in a friendly voice. “Have a seat, why don’tcha, pal?”

  Sir Reggie jumped up into a chair.

  For a moment, London didn’t know what to do. Mr. Tedrow’s invitation was to Sir Reggie, not her. So far, Mr. Tedrow didn’t seem to have quite noticed she was even there. She wondered if maybe she shouldn’t just leave Sir Reggie here to keep Mr. Tedrow company while she continued on her own way. For all she knew, her popular and beloved little Yorkie might do the man more good than she could.

  “What are you drinking?” London asked.

  “Seltzer water with a slice of lime,” Mr. Tedrow said as if he were talking to himself.

  London wasn’t surprised that he was drinking something non-alcoholic. Like many of the other passengers, Mr. Tedrow had consumed quite a lot of beer during their two days at a festival in Bamberg. A lot of them seemed to be compensating for their overindulgence.

  “Are you ready for another?” London asked.

  “No, I’m fine with this one,” Mr. Tedrow said.

  A silence fell. Mr. Tedrow was yet to make eye contact with London.

  “How’s the writing going, Mr. Tedrow?” she asked.

  “The writing?” he said, glancing at Sir Reggie as if the dog had asked the question. “Oh, fine. Just fine.”

  Then he stared at the tabletop again.

  London’s worry sharpened.

  She got the feeling that nothing was “just fine” with Mr. Tedrow right now. But what was she going to do about it? Was there anything she could do about it?

  London was especially concerned to find Mr. Tedrow sitting by himself like this. Although Bob Turner was hardly much of a detective, he’d taken it upon himself to help Mr. Tedrow by teaching him all the secrets of his supposed investigative prowess.

  Mr. Tedrow had seemed to be enjoying those lessons and had taken copious notes for his book. So why was he alone here tonight?

  “How’s Bob?” London asked cautiously.

  “Hmm? Bob? Oh, he’s fine. Just fine.”

  “What has he been up to?”

  “He’s been in bed in his room.”

  London’s eyes crinkled with surprise.

  “You mean—all day long?” she asked.

  “Pretty much,” Mr. Tedrow said. “Nighttime too.”

  “Why?”

  “He’s not feeling so great,” Mr. Tedrow said.

  London ignored the fact that Mr. Tedrow had just said Bob was “fine” a few seconds ago. The man’s brain seemed to be a bit foggy at the moment. Consistency was probably more than she should expect from him.

  “What’s wrong with him?” London asked.

  “He’s got a cold, I guess,” Mr. Tedrow said. “I think it’s just the sniffles. He’s decided to stay in his room, he doesn’t want anybody else to catch it.”

  London now found herself worrying about Bob as well as Mr. Tedrow. This was the first she’d heard that he’d been under the weather.

  “Has Bob visited the ship’s medic?” London asked. She felt her cheeks grow warm when she asked the question. Many of the officers on this ship had more than one job, and the Australian chef, Bryce Yeaton, doubled as medic when needed. London’s relationship with Bryce had been definitely veering toward the romantic.

  “Not that I know of,” Tedrow replied dourly. “I don’t think he wants to. He figures if he just stays in his room, he’ll get better and nobody will catch whatever it is he’s got.”

  Mr. Tedrow’s gaze kept shifting from the tabletop to Sir Reggie, as if London weren’t actually still standing there and he was carrying on a rather absent-minded conversation with the dog.

  Something’s wrong here, London thought.

  But how was she going to find out what it was? She knew from experience that Mr. Tedrow could be awfully hard to talk to. Besides, she wasn’t absolutely sure that whatever was going on was any of her business. Still, she felt obliged to do her best to draw him out.

  “So do you want to tell me about the book?” she asked.

  “Book? What book?”

  “The book you’re writing.”

  “Oh. That book. Naw, I think I’d better not talk about it. I don’t want to spoil it for you.”

  Mr. Tedrow then stood up from the table and spoke directly to Sir Reggie.

  “Well, I’d better be going, I guess. It was good seeing you, pal.”

  Without another word, he left the lounge.

  London looked at Sir Reggie, who was still sitting in his chair.

  “What do you think is going on with him?” she asked the dog. “Do you know anything I don’t know?”

  Sir Reggie let out one of his indecisive little whines.

  “Well, I don’t guess there’s anything we can do about it,” London said. “At least not at the moment.”

  London glanced toward the bar and saw that her sandwich had just arrived. She figured she’d better eat it before the lull ended and business picked up again. She was pretty sure she still had a busy night ahead.

  *

  After a couple more hours, the lounge’s business started to slow down in earnest. London finished serving another tray full of drinks, then circulated among the tables and took orders for a few more, and finally went back to the bar and recited the list of orders by memory to Elsie.

  “OK, great, I’ve got it,” Elsie said. “You go now. My team and I can take it from her
e. You should rest.”

  “Are you sure?” London asked.

  “Sure, I’m sure. You’d be sure too if you could see yourself. You don’t exactly look spruce and chipper and perky.”

  “Thanks for the compliment,” London said with a sigh.

  “Hey, what kind of friend would I be if I didn’t tell you the truth? Call it tough love, sweetie. Don’t worry, you’ll look perfectly gorgeous again after a good night’s sleep. Meanwhile, you need to get off your feet.”

  “Yeah, I guess I’m pretty tired at that,” London said.

  “Thanks for all your help,” Elsie said. “This isn’t even supposed to be your kind of gig. You went beyond the call of duty, and I’m grateful.”

  “Glad to help out,” London said, taking off her server’s apron and setting it on the bar. “I’ll see you tomorrow.”

  As she walked out of the lounge, she noticed that Sir Reggie was no longer tagging along at her feet. She wondered how long it had been since he’d decided to call it a night and headed back to their stateroom. She’d been too busy and distracted to notice his departure.

  She walked on into the reception area, which happened to be completely empty. She stopped and stood for a moment, just enjoying the sudden quiet and letting her exhaustion start to sink in.

  She felt too tired to walk all the way down two flights of stairs to the Allegro deck. As she went toward the elevator, an idea occurred to her.

  It would be nice to see Bryce, she thought.

  She flashed back to the night before last, when they’d shared their first and, so far, only kiss up on the Rondo deck while the Nachtmusik sailed past the lighted banks of the Main River on its way away from Bamberg.

  She and Bryce had both been constantly busy since then—certainly too busy to share such a sweet moment again, and too busy to seriously talk about what had happened. But they’d been smiling at each other warmly and affectionately whenever they ran into each other, however brief those moments were. Bryce’s smile had been enough to assure London that their kiss hadn’t been a dream, and not a one-time thing either.

  Now that things were calming down aboard the boat, maybe she could catch him in the Habsburg Restaurant. Although neither she nor Bryce seemed ready to take their fledgling romance to the next level, maybe they could go up to the Rondo deck for another romantic little moment. It could be very pleasant up there on the top deck late at night.