1 Shore Excursion

by Marie Moore

  He reached over and covered my hand with his. His touch was so electrifying that I felt as if his hand had burned a hole in mine. I heard an explosion of giggles from the High Steppers table and, blushing again, pulled my hand back from his.

  He laughed. “You are delightful. And I was pleased to learn from my staff this evening that you are following my orders and have stopped questioning them. I’m glad you realized that you must obey me. Perhaps you’d like to come to the bridge after dinner for some cognac and view the stars with me through the telescope in my private quarters? I am becoming quite an astronomer.”

  That “orders” and “obey” remark brought me back to my senses.

  “Thanks, Captain Vargos, for the invitation. But I have other things on my mind. An unsolved murder, for instance, that no one but me seems to be taking seriously.”

  I put down my napkin and pushed back my chair. “Good night, Captain, and thank you for the hospitality. As far as your orders go, I’ll do the best I can.”

  I almost collided with a waiter as I fled the dining room, heading for the open deck and some fresh air. I was grateful to find the deck deserted so I could vent in private.

  If my grandmother and Aunt Minnie the Methodist could have heard the words I used when I reached the deserted rail of the Promenade Deck, they would have wanted to wash my mouth out with soap, twice.

  What made me really angry was the sure and certain knowledge that deep down inside I knew that I was deeply attracted to him, in spite of his arrogant, macho orders and assumptions. I wanted to believe him and not Zoe about the existence of a wife. I wanted to trust him. I didn’t want him to turn out to be a lying rat.

  “My, my, my, what ugly words! You should have been a sailor. I don’t see what you’re so upset about. Why were you swearing? What happened? It looked to me as if you were having a fine time up there with old lover boy Vargos.”

  In my rush to the rail, I had not seen Chet Parker, lounging in the shadows on a deck chair, smoking a cigarette. His perfectly cut white dinner jacket and boyish blond hair gleamed in the reflection of the ship’s lights as he climbed, laughing, out of the chair and moved toward me and the rail.

  “I really don’t think it’s any of your business, Chet,” I steamed, blushing all over again in the knowledge that my profanity had been overheard.

  Parker was still laughing and now he laughed harder than ever, choking on the cigarette smoke. “Oh, God, you are so funny. Oh, God, I wish you could have heard all those old women talking about you and that gorgeous captain. Won’t they be disappointed that you turned him down?”

  I couldn’t answer. Not and keep my job.

  He looked at my face and burst out laughing again.

  “Well, Sidney,” he said, wiping his eyes, and tossing his cigarette butt over the rail into the ocean, “good night, good night. I hope you have a good night. Now let me go see who I can find to show me some stars!”

  I could still hear him laughing even after the door shut behind him.

  Right then, I just wanted to quit and go home, and by home, I meant all the way home, to Mississippi.

  Life is much simpler in a small town in the South. You know everyone. They know you. They mind your business, all right, and that can be annoying, but most of the time it’s because they really care about you. And it’s home. You are safe. No mystery murderers or lying rats there. Well, some lying rats, maybe. But at least you know who they are. I leaned on the rail, watching the pale moon on the sea, my anger fizzling into sadness. I was suddenly quite homesick.

  I was just about to resolve to quit the travel business forever and run home to Mamma when I felt Jay’s big arms wrap around my shoulders.

  “Hey, kid, time to head for the cabin. Give old Uncle Jay a big hug and forget about all this other mess. We’ve got a big day tomorrow, and you could use the sleep.”

  Have I told you how much I love Jay? As angry as he makes me, he is still the best friend I ever had, and he is always, well, usually, there when I need him.

  * * *

  When we returned to the cabin, we found fresh towels in the bathroom, beds turned down, room lights lowered, mints on the pillow, but no Daily Program. Abdul, the room steward, usually puts the DP for the following day on our beds along with our pajamas, artfully draped.

  The Daily Program is a useful little sheet listing all the ship’s activities, theme night information, the day’s weather, stuff like that. Jay and I also use it to remind the High Steppers of any meetings scheduled with our group. The next day’s sheet was supposed to run a notice for the High Steppers to assemble in the Starlight Lounge at 9:00 a.m.

  “Oh, hell, Jay, I forgot to check on Al. I never found him to ask what he wanted to tell me about Ruth.”

  “Give it a rest, Sid. Al can wait. I don’t give a rat’s ass about Al. Let the cops take care of it all tomorrow in Norway. Let’s talk about tonight, instead. Wasn’t my costume terrific?”

  “Yes, it was, Jay. You were marvelous. I think it was the best costume you ever made. Now stop posing and turn the light off. I’m ready for this day to be over.”

  The Daily Program shot under the door.

  I grabbed it and climbed back into bed. I hadn’t gotten past “6:15—Morning Power Walk with Amy” before falling asleep.

  * * *

  I had already showered, dressed, and grabbed a quick coffee before we docked in the morning; I wanted to watch the ship maneuver into the harbor at Oslo.

  The arrival into a new port is one of those great things about cruises, and one that I love most.

  I stood at the rail, the hot coffee mug warming my hands in the crisp air, watching as the pier came closer and closer, admiring the old stone buildings in the morning mist.

  Like all of the Scandinavian harbors in the summer, Oslo’s is a busy place, with commercial vessels, ferries, fishing boats, pleasure craft, and cruise ships all jockeying for position.

  Jay joined me at the rail just as the long ropes were being tied to the big stanchions that lined the dock. We watched as the gangway was maneuvered into place.

  The cruise line suits and the Norwegian immigration officials had come aboard very early on the pilot boat, and, according to the cruise director’s PA announcement during breakfast, the ship was already cleared for disembarkation.

  “How did they manage that, Jay, with Ruth and everything?” I said. “I know Empress swings a big stick here, but I thought we would be hours clearing, if we were cleared at all. I am amazed that Norwegian cops aren’t swarming all over this ship.

  “Well, I hate to have to be the one to tell you this, Sidney, because I know you’re going to yell. The purser called our cabin while I was shaving. You had already left. Sid, they are listing Ruth’s death as a suicide.”

  I couldn’t believe what I was hearing. Like, the words didn’t compute.

  “Jay, we know that’s not true. We were there. We saw her.”

  “The room steward got there first ahead of us, remember? He was first on the scene so his story is golden. They’ve already cleaned up her cabin, and now he swears it was suicide. And Dr. Sledge is backing him up, so I guess what we saw or know or say or think just doesn’t matter. I told the Empress Line brass what we saw, and they said we must have been mistaken, that our mistake was understandable because of the shock.”

  “What about the police, Jay? The police didn’t want to talk to us?”

  “I asked if we would be speaking with the police and the answer was emphatically no. ‘Absolutely unnecessary,’ the purser said, ‘the case is closed.’ We were also offered a free upgrade to a suite with a balcony because of our ‘distress,’ Sidney ... an offer that, you will be happy to know, I declined. I’m thinking of asking if it’s still good, though. I don’t have much moral fiber.”

  Well, that does it, Jay. We’ve got to get through to Itchy, just as soon as we go ashore, before the bus gets here for the shore excursion. Something has to be done, and this thing is way too big for us now
. We have to have help.”

  * * *

  Because of the time difference, calling meant waking up New York. Calling from the pay phone on the pier, I used the agency calling card and reached our manager Diana at home after ten rings. She was not pleased.

  “We are fully aware of the Shadrach situation, Sidney, not because either you or Jay bothered to inform us, but because of a courtesy call I received yesterday afternoon from Captain Vargos of Empress Cruise Line.” The sleep in Diana’s voice had changed to ice. He wanted to offer his condolences and reassure us of his personal distress regarding Miss Shadrach’s suicide. He was shocked, shocked to learn that our very own agents had not contacted us immediately with the news.”

  “But Diana, they told us the phone service was down, email, too, and you are not listening. Please, Diana, please listen. We know she didn’t kill herself. She was murdered, Diana. She didn’t ... we tried ...”

  “We will speak about this when you return to New York, Sidney. In the meantime, just try to do your job. If anyone else kills themselves, I would appreciate a phone call immediately. Immediately. Do I make myself perfectly clear?” With a sharp click, the phone went dead.

  Yeah, Diana. You sure do. Crystal.

  A lot of other things were becoming clear, too.

  * * *

  We assembled the High Steppers in the Starlight Lounge and gave them each a color-coded sticker for their shore excursions. Some were going to the Viking Museum, others to the Kon-Tiki, and some were just going ashore to walk around, check out the Royal Palace, or shop.

  “Sidney will be escorting the red group to the Kon-Tiki and the Vigeland Sculpture Park, and I will go with the blue group, you lucky people, to the Viking ships and the Hadeland Glassworks. If you get lost, just watch for my hat!”

  Jay jammed one of those plastic Viking helmets with the horns on top of his wild red hair. He really looked a lot like a Viking. A mad one, of course.

  “Now girls, those of you who are shopping on your own will need to remember to be back on board no later than 5:30,” he continued. “Remember now, my angels, the ship sails at 6:00, and it’s a long way to Copenhagen. If you miss the sailing, I hope you are good swimmers, ’cause you’ll have to get to the next port on your own. Okay, Blue Group, you’re Vikings now, and we’re off to ravish and pillage. Follow me!”

  Jay’s blue group filed out, giggling, loving his craziness, most wearing fanny packs and gleaming white tennis shoes. Angelo Petrone stepped out of line to pull me aside. “I heard you paging Al Bostick, Sidney, and I wanted to tell ya that I seen him about midnight last night with one of them Brazilian dancers from the cabaret. Man oh man! They was ahead of me in the hall headed to Bostick’s cabin and believe you me, they was feeling no pain. I ain’t seen Al this morning, but if you’re waiting on him, I think you had better fugetaboutit. He ain’t going on no bus trip, with no High Steppers, you know what I mean?”

  I drew a line through Al’s name on my clipboard.

  “Okay, Red Group, are we ready for the Kon-Tiki?”

  10

  The shore excursion bus rounded the corner and rolled to a stop near the Grand Café.

  I tapped on the microphone. “Well, High Steppers, this was a terrific day, wasn’t it? Please join me in a round of applause thanking Helga, our wonderful local guide, for all those fantastic stories about the history and legends of Norway. I learned a lot, and I know you did, too! Now, please, a big round of applause for Helga and for Olaf, our driver.”

  Scattered applause reflected both the weariness of the group and their dissatisfaction with the step-on guide and the local tour people. Big tips for Helga and Olaf would not be forth-coming, I thought, nor would they be deserved.

  Olaf’s sullenness was exceeded only by Helga’s inept performance of her duties. Not only had she managed to make Thor Heyerdahl’s epic adventure seem boring, she also lost members of the group all along the way as people bailed out of the over-priced tour to return to the ship on their own.

  Tour directors and the ship’s shore excursion teams on big ships often find themselves at the mercy of the local tour agents. It is impractical for the line to operate their own tours with so many ports and passengers, all with varied interests. So they vet and hire local tour companies to arrange and conduct them. Most of the tours arranged by the local agents and offered as shore excursions by the ship are good, but occasionally they are not. Checking out the online reviews of previous passengers on the cruise line website before you book is always a good idea. It helps a lot in making a more informed choice as to which tours you would enjoy and which you might not. The price of the excursion, times and duration and level of difficulty are also provided, along with notations about the inclusion of meals and shopping stops.

  It’s fine for passengers to book onshore tours or arrange local guides or taxi tours independently of the cruise line if they wish. But if you do so, you should remember that you are on your own if something happens that causes you to be late in returning to the ship. If you are delayed with a tour booked with the cruise line, they will hold the ship’s sailing until the shore excursion bus returns. If you are late and touring on your own, the ship will sail without you.

  Private or custom tours can be booked by the ship’s concierge desk, arranged yourself via the Internet or telephone with a local vendor in advance of your cruise, or onshore with a local agent upon arrival into a port. If you hire a taxi tour, be sure to agree on the price before setting off. In a small or limited port, tours and vendors may fill up, so advance booking is best, and you should always make sure that the agency or outfitter is reputable and comes with a reliable recommendation.

  “Sidney, is this a shopping stop?” Sylvia Klein wanted to know.

  “Yes, indeed, Sylvia, it is. In Jorgensen’s, just down the street, they sell the most incredible Norwegian sweaters and ski caps. It is one of the recommended shops that Michael, our cruise director, described in his shopping talk. If you mention your ship and cabin number in Jorgensen’s, you will definitely get a discount. You might even win a prize!”

  I checked my watch.

  “We will have forty-five minutes here before returning to the pier, High Steppers, so just have a look around or maybe enjoy a coffee and meet us back here promptly at five o’clock. Please remember to take your port maps with you, and if you forgot to bring yours, I have some extras here in my bag. Our bus, number 216, will be parked right here, and I will be just over there, at the Grand Café, waiting for you. You may also return to the ship on your own if you wish, but please let me know if you are doing that, and remember that the ship sails at six. We must all be back on board no later than five-thirty. Now, are there any questions?”

  Hands went up.

  “What time does the ship sail?” said Sylvia Klein.

  “What time do we have to be back on board?” said Marjorie Levy.

  “What was that bus number again?” said Maria Petrone.

  “Where is the john?” said Pete Murphy.

  * * *

  I was sipping espresso at a corner table in the Grand Café imagining myself as one of Ibsen’s Bohemians when the Viking helmet appeared on the horizon.

  Jay’s group dispersed and within minutes he plopped down at my table and ordered a Hansa beer.

  “I would have made a good Viking,” he said, leaning back in his chair, stretching those long legs.

  “Oh, really? What makes you say that?”

  “Well, see how great I look in this hat? Just like a Viking. The only problem is that those old Vikings spent all their time riding around in their dragon boats raping and pillaging. I don’t think I would do all that, but maybe I could have just chopped off a few heads with one of those cool axes or something.”

  His beer arrived. He paid the waiter and savored his first sip.

  “Ah, that’s good,” he said, leaning back again. “Speaking of chopping off heads, Sidney—did you get Diana on the phone? In all the confusion this morning I
couldn’t ask.”

  “Yeah. I got her. But not before the captain did. She totally believes him and the suicide story and everything, and from the way she was talking, we’ll have plenty of explaining to do when we get back ... if she’ll even listen, which I doubt. I got my head chopped off, all right. I’d say we are pretty much toast.”

  “What did I tell you, Sidney? What did I tell you? That woman is horrible. And we might as well cave in about Ruth because no one wants to believe anything else anyway, not even the High Steppers. Especially not the High Steppers. I don’t think you’ve noticed, Sidney, but the High Steppers aren’t exactly grief-stricken about Ruth. The old girls are used to their pals cashing in their chips. Happens all the time, like Hannah said. It makes them sad, but as long as it’s not them, no one wants to ruin their vacation, now, do they?”

  “No, Jay, but we owe something to Ruth, you and I, no matter how anyone else feels. She was our responsibility. And besides, what about the killer? Aren’t you worried? We can’t cave in. Somebody really bad is roaming around loose on that big ship.”

  “I know that, Sidney. I am well aware of that, my little conscience. Just be sure that you are.”

  And with that, he drained his beer, jammed on his helmet, and strode off toward his bus, gathering his flock as he went, charming them all and leaving me to do all the worrying by myself, as usual.

  * * *

  Don’t tell the High Steppers, but Oslo is not my favorite city.

  Granted, seeing real, actual Viking ships is beyond cool and the museum that houses them is unique and interesting even to people who are not into history. And the Kon Tiki is totally amazing—when you think about Thor Heyerdahl heading out across the vast Pacific Ocean bound for Polynesia riding a bunch of lashed-together balsa logs. I am fascinated by his books, Kon-Tiki and the even more interesting sequel, Aku-Aku. The city of Oslo itself is visually pleasing and well laid out. Other than that, in my humble opinion, Oslo is a snooze.