Chorus Lines, Caviar, and Corpses (A Happy Hoofers Mystery)

by Mary McHugh

  Alex looked at her as if he had found his soul mate. “That’s on my list too,” he said. “You’re an adventure junkie like me.”

  Gini smiled, showing the dimples that make her look like a perennial teenager. “Sounds like it,” she said.

  “Where are you going next?” Alex asked.

  “Probably back to India,” Gini said. “I filmed a documentary about an orphanage in New Delhi. I met a little girl there I can’t forget. I’m thinking seriously about adopting her, but the Indian government makes it very difficult for a foreigner to adopt one of their children, especially a single woman. I want to see if I can get around their regulations somehow.”

  “One of my colleagues at the Times writes about India. He lived there for quite a while and has lots of contacts. I’ll ask him for some information that might help you,” Alex said.

  Gini’s face brightened. “Oh, Alex, could you do that? That would be incredible.”

  “Would you like a drink?” Alex asked. “We have a lot to talk about.”

  “Give me a rain check, please, Alex. I’m really tired. We’ve been here since breakfast, just did a whole performance tonight, and I’m a little jet-lagged. Could we continue this tomorrow?”

  “Of course we can. I’d like that very much. Sleep well. You’ve earned it.”

  Gini and I headed down the stairs toward our cabins.

  “Oh, Tina, he’s really interesting,” Gini said, seeming to float down the carpeted steps.

  “Well, he’s certainly interested in you,” I said. “And he seems like a really nice guy.”

  “How old do you think he is?” Gini asked.

  “Who cares?” I said. “He’s totally compatible.”

  I could tell it would bother Gini if he were a lot younger than she was. It would never bother me, but things like that matter to Gini.

  As we headed to our cabins, we noticed two young men walking ahead of us down the corridor, talking earnestly. I didn’t pay much attention to them at first because we could only see the backs of their heads. Then they turned to look at each other and I realized they were Brad and Chef Allgood, who had his arm around Brad’s waist. We heard Ken say, “There’s more room in my cabin. I have some chilled vodka in my fridge and we can . . . uh . . . talk some more.”

  Gini and I looked at each other. She saw the worried look on my face.

  “Tina. Stop. It’s none of our business,” Gini said.

  “But, he’s so . . .”

  “It’s none of our business.”

  “You’re right. Good night, Gini. I’m going up to the bar to meet Barry. See you in the morning.”

  As I headed toward the bar, my phone rang. I saw that the call was from my friend Peter, back in New Jersey.

  “Hello, comrade,” I said in a thick Russian accent.

  “Tina,” Peter said. “Is everything OK? I thought you were going to call me when you got to the ship.”

  Peter Simpson’s not a boyfriend, but he likes the same things I do—New York, Cape Cod, everything French, hiking, eating lunch in great restaurants, skiing, dancing. He is divorced and no more eager to get married again than I am, so we have a lot of fun together. He’s always available if I need a date for a dinner party or someone to see a play with or go ice skating in Rockefeller Center, or take a boat trip up the Hudson. He’s a lawyer who went to law school with my husband and he was a good friend of Bill’s. I think he likes to look after me for Bill’s sake.

  Peter is the brother I’ve always wanted—or I probably would have fallen in love with him. He’s gorgeous—tall, thin, in great shape, still has all his hair, which is gray now. He wears rimless glasses. I’m invariably attracted to men who are smarter than I am—something to do with my father, who was brilliant. I tried to please him all my life, but never could. With the help of a therapist, I’ve almost managed to stop being hurt that I can never please him, but I still have a long way to go. I don’t have to try to please Peter—he likes me the way that I am.

  “Everything’s fine, Peter,” I said, stopping to lean against the wall to talk to him. “I haven’t had a minute to call. We just finished our first show and we were a smash hit. There are nice people on this cruise and everything is perfect except the food.”

  “What did they do, hire a British chef?”

  “Exactly!” I said.

  “Well, the British know how to do breakfast,” he said. “Just fill up in the morning.”

  “I will,” I said. “Don’t worry about us, Peter. We’re fine. I’ll try to call you in a day or two so you’ll know everything is OK. What about you? How’s the Nelson case going?”

  “I’ll find out on Tuesday,” Peter said. “That’s when I’ll present my brief to the judge.”

  “You’ll be brilliant,” I assured him. “I know how hard you’ve worked on it.”

  “Well, maybe,” Peter said. “I just want to be sure you aren’t planning to run away and join the Moscow Circus.”

  I laughed. “Tap dancing is enough for me. I’ll leave the dare-devil acts to attorneys like you.”

  “Hah,” he said, and I could picture him lifting an eyebrow the way he always does when he’s amused.

  “Anyway, thanks for checking on me,” I said, remembering that Barry was expecting me to meet him. “It’s been a long day. I’d better go. Thanks again for checking.”

  “Any time, Tina,” Peter said. “I miss you.”

  “I miss you too. Talk to you soon.”

  Tina’s Travel Tip: Not all men who look like Harrison Ford sound like Harrison Ford.

  Chapter 5

  Add a Russian Accent

  Back in the bar, I sat down and ordered a coffee. Three rather sloppy-looking musicians were playing American music on piano, bass, and saxophone. Their music was obviously aimed at the older passengers: “Tea for Two,” “Small Hotel.” I could have used a little Adele or Van Morrison, a Latino beat, the Stones—anything with a dance rhythm.

  Barry hadn’t arrived yet. The only other person in the bar was a tall, stunning blond woman sitting by herself at a table near mine. She was wearing a black and white striped top over black pants. Very chic. She smiled and said with a slight Russian accent, “Won’t you join me?”

  “I’d love to,” I said, and took my coffee cup over to her table. “Hello, my name is Tina Powell.”

  “I know. I saw your show tonight. I loved it,” she said. “I’m Tatiana. When I was younger, my brother and I danced together professionally. Not anymore though. I’ve turned respectable and teach at the university in Moscow.”

  “Really?” I said. “How fascinating. What do you teach?”

  “Russian history.”

  “I wish I knew more about it,” I said. “Especially now that we’re here.”

  “Come to one of my lectures,” she said. “I’m with a British group who hired me to come on this cruise and talk about life before and after communism.”

  “I’d love to,” I said. “Can I bring my gang?”

  “Of course.” She reached in her oversize black patent leather purse and handed me a copy of her schedule. “Come any time.”

  I felt a hand on my shoulder and looked up to see Barry standing there.

  “Tina, I’m so sorry,” he said. “I had to take a conference call from my office. We’re working on an antitrust case and I had to talk to the associates who are handling it. It took me longer than I thought it would. One of the hazards of being a litigator”

  He held out his hand to Tatiana. “And who is this charming lady?”

  “Barry, this is Tatiana,” I said. “She’s lecturing to the Brits on this trip. Tatiana, Barry was in my husband’s law school class.”

  “Lovely to meet you,” she said and stood up. “If you’ll excuse me, I think I’d better turn in. Tina, I hope to see you again tomorrow.”

  “I’d like that very much,” I said, and she glided from the bar on cute beige leather sandals—probably a local acquisition, I noted.

  “Int
eresting woman,” Barry said. “Am I too late to buy you that drink?”

  “I’ve switched to coffee—decaf, actually. But I’d love your company. I’m not sleepy—still high from dancing. I’m so grateful to you for showing up when that grimy chef was being obnoxious. Thank you so much for your help.”

  “I told Heidi about him. I think she’d like to fire him if she had the authority. I strongly suggested she do so.”

  “Tell me more about you and how you ended up on this ship,” I said, taking a sip of the strong coffee, which didn’t taste like decaf at all. I’ll probably be awake all night, I thought, and then concentrated on Barry.

  “It’s kind of a caricature of a cruise, isn’t it?” he said. “Food you’d send back anywhere else. A crew that never heard of gracious service. A cruise director with all the charm of a traffic cop.” I laughed along with him. What a perfect description of Heidi.

  “The best part,” he said, touching my arm, “is your gang. I still haven’t really seen you dance. I saw the beginning—it was great. Then my phone vibrated and I had to take the conference call in my cabin. By the time we worked out all the details, you had finished. I’m glad you’re still up.” He motioned to the waiter and ordered some coffee.

  “Where do you live, Barry?” I asked. “Are you in the city?”

  “Yes. Now I am. I used to live in Connecticut when I was married, but my wife got the house and enough money to support her habit of spas, shopping, tennis, lunches in New York, and vacations in Nantucket.” He looked grim, but then relaxed and looked at me. “How about you, Tina? Where do you live?”

  “In a little town in New Jersey. Champlain. It’s a wonderful place. All my friends are there. But I miss my husband.” I stopped for a minute and looked into his eyes. They were dark brown, alert and intelligent. “There are so many memories filling that house, Barry,” I said. “I’m thinking of moving to Cape Cod so I can watch the ocean whenever I want. There’s something about the water that’s calming, soothing . . .” I took a deep breath and changed the subject. “It was good to get away for a while and come on this cruise. What made you decide to come?”

  “I’ve been everywhere else,” he said, not bragging, just stating a fact. “I went to China last year, so I thought I’d see Russia this time. I’m not sure this is the right way to see it—on this ship, I mean. But I met you, so it’s worth the minor inconveniences.”

  “Thanks. I needed that,” I said. And I did need those words of appreciation from a man, I realized.

  “I’m sorry about your husband,” Barry said, his voice softer. “You must miss him a lot.”

  “I do,” I said. “I especially miss him when I’m on a trip like this. He was always open to new places, new people, new adventures. He would have loved Russia because it’s so different from all the other places we went. We can’t even read the signs in the towns. Most people don’t know much English. It’s very different from the European cities we went to.”

  “Every woman needs a man to take care of her. Look what happened to you with that Allgood guy, that chef.”

  I stiffened. “I was certainly glad to see you,” I said. “I was really scared, but I think it’s important for a woman to know how to take care of herself. Otherwise, she’s lost when something happens to her man. I’m glad I have a job and the chance to dance on this cruise ship.”

  “You sound like one of those women’s libbers,” Barry said, and he didn’t mean it as a compliment.

  Who said that anymore?

  “Yes,” I said, “I guess I am.”

  “You just need a good man in your life,” Barry said, taking my hand in his. “Someone to take care of you so you don’t have to work or dance on cruise ships. I wouldn’t have let my wife do that.”

  I pulled my hand away. That’s probably why you no longer have a wife, I thought. I felt icicles forming around the corners of my mouth, but I smiled and said, “Excuse me, Barry. I’m suddenly very sleepy. I think I’ll just run along. No—don’t get up. Really. I can get back to my cabin all right.”

  “See you tomorrow, little lady.”

  Little lady? I left.

  Mary Louise was fast asleep when I crept in to the room. The soothing motion of the boat rocked me off to sleep in a few minutes. I dreamed about being in the land of Oz, where all the Munchkins called me “little lady.”

  Tina’s Travel Tip: Bring along some extra cookies in case the chef doesn’t show up to make breakfast.

  Chapter 6

  From Russia With Murder

  The next morning, we managed to shower and dress in our tiny cabins. My blue and white striped Brooks Brothers no-iron shirt was as unwrinkled as the day I bought it. Once again, I silently thanked that venerable institution for producing their remarkable blouses.

  When Mary Louise, Pat, Janice, and I arrived at the dining room, the place was chaotic. Heidi was running around looking frantic. The waitresses were huddled in a corner babbling Russian to each other. Sasha stood at the door to the dining room and stammered, “Sorry, no food.”

  “Can you believe this?” Barry said to us.

  “What do you mean, no food?” he said to poor Sasha, who obviously had no idea what was going on.

  “Chef has disappeared,” Sasha said. “Nobody knows where he is.”

  “He’s probably passed out drunk somewhere,” Barry said. “But you can’t just say, ‘No food,’ with all these people expecting breakfast. There must be somebody else who can cook.”

  He reached out and grabbed Heidi as she ran past, her chestnut hair falling loose from her barrettes. Her brown eyes were crazed and she could barely speak English.

  “Ach, Mr. Martin. Is nicht gut. Vere is dat chef? I spoke sharply to him yesterday because everyone was complaining about the food. Maybe he jumped in river. Maybe he quit and left boat. Ach du lieber. He just left. Not one word. Just left.”

  Barry shook her. “Get a grip, woman! There must be someone in the kitchen, one of the sous-chefs, who can substitute for the chef until you find out what happened to him.”

  Heidi looked around wildly and saw Tatiana waiting to get into the dining room.

  “Tatiana, Tatiana,” she called. “Let her through, please.”

  “What’s the matter, Heidi?” Tatiana said. “What’s going on around here? Why is everyone running around like scared chickens?”

  “The chef has disappeared. No one can find him. Remember you told me about that young man who is a friend of yours—oh, what’s his name?—the Russian, you know, his father owns a restaurant in . . .”

  “You mean Sergei? The one who is a sous-chef here?”

  “That’s his name. Yes. Could you ask him? Do you think he could—”

  “I’m sure he could, Heidi. I’ll go get him. He refused to go back into the kitchen with the chef in there, but maybe he’ll feel more comfortable now since the chef isn’t there. I’ll see if he’s in his room. If he is, I’ll bring him back here. Don’t worry.” She left and walked quickly away from the dining room—this time, wearing red sandals.

  “Thank Gott,” Heidi said.

  Alex, the journalist, caught up to us as we headed to a table. He was looking especially attractive this morning, freshly shaven, his blue eyes alert, concerned, wearing a white shirt open at the collar and tan slacks.

  “What’s going on, Alex?” I said. “Have you heard anything?”

  “I don’t really know any more than you do, Tina. I saw Heidi with her hair all over the place. She was muttering something like, ‘He’s gone, he’s gone. We can’t find him anywhere. Maybe he left the ship without telling me. I don’t know what to do.’ Then she mumbled something about money being missing. She asked me if I had any idea where Chef Allgood was. Of course, I don’t have any more idea than she does.”

  “Is she going to call the police?”

  “The cruise company hates calling the police, but they’ll have to. They can’t just pretend he hasn’t disappeared.”

  “He probabl
y just left the ship early this morning when it docked,” I said. “Why would he stick around here where everybody hates him?”

  “There’s only one way to get off the ship besides jumping over the rail—the ramp off the main deck. But nobody saw him leave.”

  In the dining room, people were milling about, not sure whether to sit down or go back to their cabins and search their suitcases for candy bars and cookies.

  Gini came in, looking fresh as a daisy in white capri pants and a yellow-and-white striped T-shirt.

  “I’m so glad I agreed to come on this ship of fools,” Gini said as we sat down at a table near the window. “What’s the problem this morning? Is our chef too hung over to make breakfast?”

  “Nobody seems to know where he is,” I told her. “He’s just disappeared. Someone has gone to find a replacement cook for us.”

  Alex sat down at the table next to Gini, who looked pleased to see him. I hadn’t seen her look at a man like that in a long time. A small ray of hope crept into my mind. Could she have found someone she could love? It’s always crazy to predict what Gini will or will not do.

  Alex said, “Everything’s sort of wild this morning. They don’t seem to have a Plan B for things like this.”

  “Tina and I saw the chef going to his cabin with Brad last night,” Gini said. “They probably partied too late and they’re sleeping it off.”

  “Sounds logical,” Alex said. “If that’s the case, I’m sure he’ll turn up.”

  “I hope he doesn’t,” Gini said. “He’s a terrible cook.” She turned to me. “So, fearless leader,” she said, “what are our chances of getting any food today?”

  I never let anything Gini says bother me. I smiled sweetly and said, “Barry has taken over. He has assured us . . . little ladies . . . that we will get breakfast today, though it might be a bit late.”