Death (and Apple Strudel) (A European Voyage Cozy Mystery—Book 2)

by Blake Pierce

  But she thought something more colorful might help reenergize her after a long day.

  She took a brightly patterned tunic out of the closet and showed it to the dog.

  “What do you think of this, Sir Reggie?”

  The dog lowered his head and gazed up at her skeptically.

  “You’re right,” London said. “I wore this to dinner back in Budapest. Mustn’t repeat myself.”

  She put the tunic back and took out a long straight maxi dress with spaghetti straps. She knew that the dark moss green color emphasized her auburn hair.

  “What about this?” she asked the dog.

  Sir Reggie let out a disapproving whine.

  “What’s wrong with it?”

  Sir Reggie made no further comment. Although talking aloud to him seemed to help her decision-making process, London knew she had to rely on her own critical eye. She concluded that although the neckline was high, the two leg-baring side slits made it too sexy for a dinner with the captain.

  But maybe not for …

  She wondered if others, maybe Emil or Bryce for example, might react favorably to the slinky outfit. But she didn’t even know if either one of them would be at dinner tonight. And she certainly wasn’t interested in looking enticing to either Bob Turner or Captain Hays.

  She put it back in the closet and took out a navy-blue dress with white polka dots. With this one, she would be fully covered, and the soft fabric belted with a sash was definitely figure-flattering. She showed to Sir Reggie, who at least didn’t seem to disapprove.

  “OK, I’ll go with this,” she said.

  After a refreshing shower, she dressed and hurried to the reception area, where the captain was waiting already. The other dinner guests arrived quickly—Elsie, Amy, and yes, both Emil and Bryce.

  The captain said, “After the events of the last few days, I think you people in particular deserve a night on the town.”

  Everybody smiled.

  Yes, I suppose we do deserve a treat, London thought. The captain seemed to have chosen the people most responsible for solving the mystery of Mrs. Klimowski’s death.

  But she’d almost forgotten about Bob Turner, who arrived last. She wasn’t sure why he’d been included in Captain Hays’s invitation. She guessed the captain might be trying to please Jeremy Lapham, since bringing the “security expert” aboard had been the CEO’s own idea.

  Now that everybody had arrived, the captain led them all down the gangway toward a waiting van.

  A night on the town, London thought as she got into the chauffeured vehicle.

  She felt more than ready to enjoy herself.

  *

  After a twenty-minute drive through Vienna, the van pulled up to the Palmenhaus. Even though she knew that the name “palm house” meant a type of greenhouse, London gasped with amazement. The structure with arching roofs and walls of glass was simply gigantic—nothing less than a palace made mostly of glass.

  As they got out of the van and climbed an elegant stone stairway to the entrance, Emil was his usual informative self.

  “The Palmenhaus was opened in 1882 by Emperor Franz Joseph the First as a greenhouse for Austrian royalty. It covers about twenty-two thousand square feet and includes exotic flora from all over the world. It is one of the world’s largest botanical exhibits, featuring some forty-five hundred plant species in all.”

  The captain added with a smile, “And it also happens to have an excellent restaurant.”

  The group was shown into a vast dining area beneath a vaulted glass-and-steel ceiling, where tables were interspersed among towering plants. When they reached their table, Bryce pulled out a chair for London, then sat down in the one next to her.

  He leaned toward her, apparently about ready to say something, when Amy plopped down in the chair on the other side of him.

  “What a beautiful place!” Amy commented, tugging on his jacket sleeve. “Was eating here your idea, Bryce?”

  Bryce looked a bit surprised at Amy’s undisguised flirtation.

  “No, it was the captain’s choice,” he replied. “But I certainly approve.”

  “Well, your approval counts a lot as far as I’m concerned,” Amy said sweetly.

  London was rather bemused. This was the first time she’d noticed Amy’s interest in Bryce. Then she saw that Emil was still standing on the other side of the table, and he seemed to be frowning at Bryce.

  As Emil finally took a seat opposite her, London realized that the evening might not be as relaxing as she had hoped.

  Oh dear, she thought. This is liable to get complicated.

  CHAPTER FIFTEEN

  London noticed Elsie grinning at her across the table. When their eyes met, Elsie gave a sly wink.

  She sees what’s going on, London thought. Maybe she understands it better than I do.

  London’s face suddenly felt warm. Emil apparently saw Bryce as a rival for her attention. And Amy definitely saw London as a rival for Bryce’s attentions.

  And as for Bryce—well, London couldn’t tell how he felt. For a moment, London wondered if she should have worn the slinky dress after all.

  She was relieved by the distraction when a waiter came and took their drink orders. London chose her favorite, a Manhattan, and turned her attention to her dinner menu.

  Then she heard Amy’s voice. “Oh, Bryce, I simply can’t make up my mind,” she chirped. “You’re the culinary expert. Could you please order for me?”

  London’s eyes widened with disbelief. Now Amy was acting like Bryce was her date

  She glanced over to see Elsie’s reaction, but her friend’s attention had shifted to the bar. And London could see why. The Palmenhaus bartender was an especially handsome young man with an excellent physique, a strong jaw, and wavy, blond hair.

  So London wasn’t the only one whose attention was divided this evening.

  She felt relieved that Bryce seemed reluctant to fulfill Amy’s request.

  “Well, I can make a suggestion, anyway,” Bryce said.

  He seemed to be speaking to both Amy and London when he offered his advice.

  “I hear the Palmenhaus is especially renowned for its Austrian beef steak fillet,” he said. “I think that’s what I’ll order.”

  “Then that’s what I’ll order as well,” Amy said.

  London was about to say the same thing when Emil spoke up.

  “Austrian beef is all very well and good for tourists, but it is hardly the best choice at the Palmenhaus. I have dined here before, and can vouch for their kitchen’s gedämpftes Lachsforellenfillet.”

  Then with a patronizing smile, he said to Bryce, “That means steamed salmon trout fillet.”

  “I know,” Bryce said, apparently impervious to Emil’s condescension. “But I think I’ll stick with the fillet of steak.”

  Both Captain Hays and Bob Turner made their choices. Now London had to make up her mind. Whose advice was she going to follow, Emil’s or Bryce’s?

  She was starting to feel annoyed with herself.

  Act your age, she told herself. You’re not a teenager.

  She decided to order the Wiener schnitzel.

  The waiter brought their drinks, and everybody ordered their meals. Then London took a sip of what struck her as the best Manhattan she’d ever tasted. The rye whiskey cocktail had an underlying sweetness that mingled splendidly with the dash of orange bitters.

  She was a bit surprised to hear Elsie complain about her bright pink cocktail.

  “Oh dear. I’m afraid the bartender doesn’t have the first idea how to make a cosmopolitan.”

  Sitting at the head of the table right next to her, the captain said, “May I try it?”

  Elsie offered the captain a sip.

  “It tastes perfectly good to me,” he said.

  “Can’t you tell what’s wrong with it?” Elsie said.

  “I’m afraid not.”

  “It doesn’t have nearly enough triple sec.”

  The captain shrug
ged and said, “Well, if it’s not to your liking, my dear, let me wave for the waiter and—”

  “Oh, that won’t be necessary, Captain Hays,” Elsie said hastily. “This is a professional matter as far as I’m concerned. I’ll go talk to the bartender myself. I’m sure I can teach him a thing or two.”

  I’ll bet you can, Elsie, London thought with a smile as her friend headed away to meet with the handsome bartender. In a few moments, just in time for before-dinner soups and salads, Elsie returned to the table, looking quite pleased with herself. London doubted very much that there was anything wrong with Elsie’s drink at all.

  She choked back a giggle and focused on her own mixed salad flavored with pumpkin oil.

  When the main meals arrived, the Wiener schnitzel was served with creamed cucumbers and warm parsley-flavored potato salad. As soon as she tasted it, she realized this was the first time she’d ever eaten authentic Wiener schnitzel. The delicately breaded, deep-fried veal escalope was less than an inch thick, and as tender and luscious as any pastry.

  Before he started eating his own salmon trout fillet, Emil peered at London’s dish with a scholar’s eye.

  “Many people don’t understand the difference between ‘schnitzel’ and ‘Wiener schnitzel,” he said in his most pedantic manner. “Schnitzel is typically made from tenderized pork or some other meat. True Wiener schnitzel simply must be made with veal. That’s actually an Austrian law!”

  Tasting his own beef filet, Bryce said, “Of course, it’s also true that Wiener schnitzel may not be native to Vienna at all. It’s very similar to costoletta alla Milanese. Legend has it that the Austrian Field Marshal Joseph Radetzky brought it to Austria from Milan, which was then ruled by the Habsburgs, in 1857.”

  Bryce managed to share this information casually, without the slightest hint of pretension. Looking peeved, Emil ate in silence for a while.

  Sitting on the other side of the Elsie, Bob Turner had kept rather quiet so far, but now he spoke to London over the restaurant clatter.

  “I hear you discovered the old lady’s body.”

  His voice was loud enough that people at the next table turned and glared at him.

  “Um, yes,” London replied, almost gagging on a bite of veal.

  “And you found her corpse in a church, eh?”

  London nodded. Bob chuckled as he continued eating his Paris-style beef dish.

  “I’d sure like to hear how you and the dog cracked the case,” he said. “I hear the dog did his share of the detective work. That must be some story.”

  London was dumbfounded. Was Bob going to demand the whole story right here and now?

  Fortunately, the captain spoke in a tone of mild protest.

  “Surely we can talk about this unpleasantness some other time.”

  Bob nodded and kept eating.

  Recorded music began playing from somewhere nearby, and the captain explained that there was dancing in the lounge if any of them would like to go there later. To London’s relief, the conversation settled down to occasional comments on the delicious meal.

  Desserts were finally served, and London basked in a serving of flawlessly caramelized crème brûlée, warm on its lightly scorched surface while the custard interior remained deliciously cold.

  Just as everybody finished their dessert, the music burst out with a fanfare-like opening that led into a waltz melody.

  Emil’s face lit up.

  “Ah, a truly authentic Viennese waltz tune!” he said. “‘Tales from the Vienna Woods,’ by the Waltz King himself—Johann Strauss the Second.”

  He rose from his chair and said to London, “May I have this dance, fraulein?”

  London gulped nervously.

  She loved to dance, but …

  “I’m not sure about my waltzing skills,” she said.

  Emil chuckled knowingly.

  “I believe you may be surprised, fraulein.”

  The two of them left the table and ventured through a wide doorway into the Palmenhaus lounge, where only a handful of couples shared a spacious dance floor. They were already whirling about to the tune.

  London felt terribly nervous. She remembered Dad teaching her the basic waltz steps when she was still a little girl, but she’d never seriously tried waltzing before.

  Emil took her right hand in his left and bowed slightly. Then he placed his right hand on her waist and she put her free hand on his shoulder. He began moving, and to London’s surprise, she found herself in effortless motion as Emil led her gliding across the dance floor.

  She realized that Emil’s assuredness and skill were somehow contagious, and all she had to do was follow him instinctively. At times, it seemed as though her feet never touched the floor, as if she and Emil both were utterly weightless. She felt breathless and increasingly dizzy as they spun round and round—and even a little alarmed. She wasn’t used to surrendering so much control to another human being, and as thrilled as she was, she wasn’t quite sure she liked it.

  She felt somehow both relieved and disappointed when the piece came to an end. Then a new melody started—something slow, sentimental, and vaguely familiar. After the whirling waltz, London wasn’t sure she was ready to join Emil in a slow dance.

  She was a bit grateful to see Bryce stepping toward them.

  “May I cut in?” he asked, reaching for London’s hand.

  Emil crossed his arms and frowned, but he politely stepped aside.

  A moment later, London found herself moving and swaying slowly in Bryce’s arms. As they turned near the doorway, she glimpsed the bar in the dining room. Elsie had returned there and was flirting contentedly with the handsome bartender. There seemed to be a touch of romance in the air tonight.

  “I can’t place this tune,” London said to her new dance partner.

  “It’s an old Lombardo and Loeb song,” Bryce said. “‘Seems Like Old Times.’”

  “Oh, yes, that’s right.”

  London was pleasantly startled as she felt a wave of comfort come over her. She fairly melted into Bryce’s embrace. She couldn’t help being amused at herself. The rather mawkish melody wasn’t the sort of thing she normally liked. Even so, she found herself slipping under its sentimental spell.

  She remembered a quote she’d heard somewhere.

  “Extraordinary how potent cheap music is.”

  Bryce chuckled, and London blushed to realize she’d said the words aloud.

  “Noel Coward said that, didn’t he?” Bryce observed.

  “I believe so,” London said at the mention of the witty English playwright’s name.

  She found herself murmuring the song’s title lyric—“Seems Like Old Times.” The words struck an emotional chord with her. She’d been obsessing about “old times” ever since she’d come to Europe, and especially since she’d been in Austria.

  Her throat tightened with emotion, but she found Bryce’s presence soothing. Part of her realized how emotionally vulnerable she was to him at this moment. Another part of her simply didn’t care. She put her head on his shoulder and let it rest there during the rest of the song.

  *

  During the ride back to the Nachtmusik, London found herself awkwardly seated between Bryce and Emil. None of the three of them seemed to know what to say, and London could almost feel Amy’s piercing glare from the seat behind her.

  The other people in the van seemed perfectly relaxed. Elsie and Bob shared cocktail recipes, and Captain Hays and the chauffer chatted about sports.

  When everybody got out of the van at the end of their ride, Amy hurried over to Bryce and brazenly took his arm. Bryce looked rather puzzled but politely walked up the gangway with her. Telling herself she didn’t care, London followed along with Emil.

  As soon as the dinner companions stepped into the reception area, Letitia Hartzer came rushing toward London, looking alarmed.

  “I’m so relieved to see you!” she exclaimed.

  “Is something the matter?” London asked.
/>   “Yes! There’s been another theft!”

  CHAPTER SIXTEEN

  Without another word, Letitia whirled away and headed toward the lounge.

  Another theft? London thought.

  As she started after the distraught woman, other crew members who had just returned from dinner continued on their various ways.

  But London felt a hand on her shoulder. She turned and found herself staring into a pair of mirrored sunglasses.

  “You needn’t trouble yourself,” Bob Turner told her. “I’ll get to the bottom of this.”

  Then the diligent security man strode off to the lounge.

  For a fleeting moment, London felt tempted to leave the entire matter to him. After all, dealing with this sort of thing seemed to be Bob’s job aboard the Nachtmusik. And earlier today he’d promised Kirby Oswinkle, “I’ll get your precious keepsake back.”

  But she really couldn’t just ignore the problem. She had to check out whatever was missing this time, and whatever Bob was doing about it.

  She followed after him.

  It was late, and the Amadeus Lounge was fairly quiet except for a buzz of activity around the little table where the musician dolls were displayed. A familiar group of people was gathered there with Letitia—Rudy and Tina Fiore, Steve and Carol Weaver, and Kirby Oswinkle. Elsie had joined the group, and Sir Reggie was trotting around looking up at all the people.

  London stepped close enough to get a look at the table. Sure enough, there were only four figures there now, not five. The bass player, clarinetist, violinist, and drummer were still on display. But Letitia’s trumpet player was gone.

  Oswinkle, whose conductor figure had gone missing yesterday, appeared to be as angry as if another of his keepsakes had been stolen. He glanced at London, then ignored her.

  “Am I glad to see you!” he said to Bob Turner. Then turning to others, he announced, “This is Bob Turner, our new security man. If anybody can get to the bottom of this outrage, he can.”