1 Shore Excursion

by Marie Moore

  “Not ridiculous at all, Miss Marsh. Mr. Wilson has not yet been charged, but we are taking him to headquarters for questioning and I must say that things look very bad for him. He was in the hot tub with Mrs. Klein just after midnight. He was the last person seen with her before she was found dead. And the scarf that was used to strangle her is yours; it came from the cabin where Mr. Wilson is residing. I have nothing further to say to you at this time. Call your employer. Call your embassy. They may be willing to intervene. Or they may not.”

  And then they stuffed Jay into the car and drove away, leaving me absolutely powerless to help him.

  Two of the High Steppers, Hannah and Ethel, along with about half the other passengers, had watched my walk of shame from the deck and then viewed the entire spectacle of Jay’s arrest. With breakfast being served and the entertainment over for the moment, the crowd quickly dispersed, all except Hannah and Ethel. They remained standing silently along the rail, in their bathrobes and plastic hairnets, or rain bonnets, or whatever those things are, like a pair of marabou storks, staring as I made my way up the gangway.

  Then they confronted me, interrupting each other as the words spilled out.

  “Where were you all night, Sidney?”

  “We were so worried. We have been looking for you.”

  “The most terrible thing has happened. Did they tell you about Sylvia?”

  “Where is Jay going in his pajamas? Why is he leaving with those men?”

  “You must come with us now to our cabin. We have something to show you.”

  “Yes, you must come right now. We need to talk with you right away. We’ve been waiting.”

  “Ladies,” I said. “I’m very sorry to have caused you any more distress and I know how upsetting all of this is for you, but I can’t come to your cabin now. I have to shower and change clothes so I can make some important phone calls and try to straighten things out. I’m dreadfully sorry, but this will have to wait until later, perhaps this evening.”

  They both shook their heads emphatically, gray curls bouncing inside the pink plastic rain-bonnets.

  “No, no, no, Sidney, it can’t wait. We’ve waited too long already. You must come. Promise us you will come, just as soon as you can. We need to speak with you in private.”

  High Steppers are always urgently needing to speak with me in private.

  “Please,” Hannah said.

  That got to me. Hannah is one of my favorites and without her I might still have been in that crypt in Stockholm.

  But Jay’s freedom came first.

  “Okay, ladies, okay. But just let me grab a shower first and make a few phone calls. I’ll be there within the hour. I won’t be able to stay more than a few minutes, but I’ll be there. Later, I promise, later.”

  Through the walls of the glass elevator on my way to my cabin, I could see Russian officers all over the ship.

  This time things would be very different. This time, we were not at sea. We were docked in a Russian port, and it was apparent that the Russian officials were fully in charge.

  I headed to the cabin to shower and change. Then I was going to call Itchy and the embassy. Poor Sylvia! And poor Jay! And what had Sylvia even been doing on the ship in Russia? Her luggage had been unloaded in Sweden. Where had she been hiding all this time?

  Finally clean, I resisted the urge to crawl into my bed and pull the covers over my head for the next couple of years. I swallowed two aspirin and chugged some water, pulled on a pair of black knit pants and a sweater, brushed my teeth, and swirled on some mascara and lipstick.

  Hearing a loud, insistent knock on the cabin door, I threw the lock, snatched it open, and found Muriel Murphy standing there, hands nervously clutching her coat and pulling it tight around her.

  “Good Lord, Muriel! What a knock! Is something wrong? Do you need anything? I was just on my way out.”

  She moved toward me into the room and was about to speak when Rahim rapped on the open door behind her, entered and said, “Miss Marsh, pardon for interruption. Captain says you must come, come now to bridge please.”

  A flash of annoyance crossed Muriel’s face.

  “I’m sorry, Muriel, but you heard Rahim. I must go now. We’ll talk later.”

  “Samurai!” Rahim said, his eyes wide.

  “What?”

  “Samurai!” he repeated, pointing at Muriel.

  She had a large steel knife in her hand.

  “This is what I wanted to show you, Sidney,” she said, giggling. I found it on one of the deck chairs by the hot tub, under the cushion.” Her eyes were dancing, as if she had found the golden egg. “I think it’s from the kitchen, like the ones we saw on the galley tour. And this, too!”

  From the pocket of her coat, she pulled the top of a leopard print bikini, neatly sliced in two, strings dangling.

  “Muriel! Where exactly did you find this—the bikini and the knife?”

  “On the table in the lounge, Sidney, where they had the cooking demonstration.”

  “But you just said you found them on deck, near the hot tub. Two different places?” I paused, as the truth dawned on me. “You don’t know where you got them, do you? You don’t really remember, do you?”

  She shook her head, smiling. “No. But it doesn’t matter, does it? I get to keep them. They’re mine now. I can keep them, can’t I? Finders keepers.”

  “Muriel. You know you can’t keep that knife. Even if you could, how would you get it home on the plane? Now, please, give those things to Rahim and he will take you and both the items to the Captain so you can tell him all about it.”

  Pouting, she gave the knife and the sliced-up bikini to Rahim. Her lower lip stuck out like a child’s.

  “Thank you very much, Muriel. You’ve been very helpful. Rahim, please tell the Captain that I will be there as soon as possible.”

  I walked them to the elevator and let Muriel push the button. Then I waited until the door closed before bolting up the stairs to Hannah’s cabin.

  * * *

  Now everyone on the ship was clearly shaken up. Word that something was terribly wrong had spread, even to those who had never heard of the High Steppers, and who had been blissfully unaware of what was happening all along.

  Passengers, stewards, and crew members stood in clusters, whispering, all over the ship, and the line at the guest relations desk was very long.

  I knocked on Hannah’s door. “Hello, Hannah, it’s Sidney. I’m here.”

  I heard noises from the other side of the door and knew she was looking through the peephole. I smiled and waved.

  She opened the door. “Oh, thank goodness, Sidney. Please, come in.”

  She pointed at the table and simply said, “Look.”

  And there it was, on the table.

  The red train case.

  Ruth Shadrach’s missing bag.

  Still bright red, but not as shiny as it had been when she brought it home from Macy’s One Day Sale.

  “Where did you find it?” I asked.

  “We didn’t find it. It found us,” Ethel said. “Ruth gave it to Al Bostick and Al gave it to Sylvia and she gave it to Monique to keep for her. Monique hid it in the bottom of the hamper in the beauty salon where she keeps the smocks. Sylvia told Monique that the bag was her insurance, that she should keep it safe where no one could find it, and that if anything happened to her, then Monique was to give it to you.”

  “We had the first appointments this morning,” Hannah said, “and when we got to the salon, Monique was crying. She gave us the bag to give to you and so here it is.”

  “Does anyone else know you have it?” I asked. “Did anyone see you with it?”

  “No,” Hannah said. “Monique wrapped it in a smock and warned us not to let anyone else see it. So we brought it straight here and locked it in the cabin, and then we went to find you.”

  “What do you think is in it?” Ethel asked.

  I looked at the bag. “Did you open it?” I asked.


  Ethel looked offended. “Why Sidney, we wouldn’t ...”

  “It was locked,” Hannah said.

  “Of course it is,” I said. “It’s Ruth’s bag. It probably has two locks.”

  “Monique said that Sylvia had the key,” Hannah said, “but I guess now that’s ...”

  “Gone.” Ethel finished.

  “Okay, ladies, come with me,” I said, wrapping the smock back around the bag. “This bag is going to Captain Vargos, this very minute, before it disappears again. The Russians are on the bridge right now, and people from Empress and the embassy, and God knows who else. As much as I would like to break that lock and look inside, the only thing to do is to turn it into the authorities. They need to take charge of this puppy, not us. This bag has caused enough trouble. But we don’t need to go parading through the ship with it. Somebody pretty ugly might be watching. Come on, you don’t need your purses, let’s go.”

  Going up to the bridge in the glass elevator, I was nervous. I guess it was silly, but after all that had happened, as I was carrying that bag, I felt as if every eye on the ship must be watching our little procession.

  We didn’t have much conversation. Even Hannah was subdued. I was lost in my own thoughts, and I’m sure Hannah and Ethel were, too.

  At the bridge, I rapped on the door and told First Officer Avranos that we needed to see Captain Vargos immediately.

  “Please, come in and have a seat, Miss Marsh, ladies. I’ll tell him that you are here, but he is very busy and might not have time just now to see you. Are you sure that it is important?”

  We all nodded.

  “He sent for me,” I said.

  “Very well, then, I’ll tell him you are here. Please be seated.”

  He quietly opened the door to the Captain’s office and slipped inside. The office was crowded with people.

  We waited.

  Finally Avranos returned and motioned for us to enter.

  Everyone stopped talking as we entered the room. The captain’s blue gaze rested on me.

  “Well, Miss Marsh, I’m very happy that you could join us, but perhaps the other ladies would wait with Officer Avranos while you ...”

  His voice trailed off into silence as I placed the bag in the middle of his desk and removed the cover.

  “It’s Ruth Shadrach’s missing bag, Captain,” I said. “Sylvia had it in her possession. She gave it to Monique for safekeeping and told Monique that it was her insurance. It may hold some answers.”

  Everyone rushed the desk, claiming custody, but Vargos ordered them all to step back. After obtaining gloves and tools from Avranos, he broke the lock and lifted the lid.

  None of Ruth’s things were inside. Instead, the case was stuffed with cash, U.S. currency, computer USB drives, and passports, lots of passports.

  30

  It was well into the evening before all the High Steppers had been questioned, along with Monique and anyone who had had more than casual contact with Sylvia.

  The computer drives in the bag held more than enough evidence to implicate Abe, Fernando, and that big phony Morgan in an international smuggling and money-laundering scheme.

  Abe and Morgan were being questioned by the Russians, and the authorities were searching for Fernando and his driver, neither of whom had returned to the ship. More arrests would likely be forthcoming, we were told, on both sides of the Atlantic, as the data was analyzed. Abe, Fernando and Morgan were apparently only a small part of a very large operation.

  But the Russians were adamant. They would not release Jay. “Not good enough, Miss Marsh, it is not good enough. We do not believe that Mr. Wilson was in any way involved in the smuggling ring, but he is not under suspicion for smuggling. He is being questioned in the death of Mrs. Klein. No evidence exists to absolve him. He is still the last person be seen with her before her body was found, and no witnesses can corroborate the story that he was asleep in his cabin under the influence of alcohol at the time of her death.”

  If I hadn’t been ashore playing hide-and-seek with Fernando I could have been Jay’s alibi. But no, where was I when my best friend needed me? Up a tree.

  * * *

  The fat cat from the embassy was no help.

  “Í’m afraid it’s completely out of my hands at this point, Miss Marsh,” he said, the wind barely moving his comb-over. “Be patient. These things take time.”

  That was easy for him to say. He wasn’t poor Jay, enduring a Russian police interrogation.

  * * *

  I gathered the High Steppers in the Sunset Lounge.

  “Jay was the last person seen with Sylvia on the night of her death, so he is now the prime suspect. We all know that he would never harm Sylvia or anyone else. But somehow we have to come up with concrete proof. If any of you saw or heard anything that might be helpful, please speak up now. This is no time to remain silent. Jay needs your help.”

  There was a long silence. No one said anything.

  Then, finally, Hannah said, “Monique told us this morning, Sidney, that Sylvia has been on the ship all along, since Stockholm, staying in Fernando Ortiz’ cabin, hiding from Abe. Maybe you should talk to Monique.”

  * * *

  But Monique had nothing to add except a lot of venting about Abe. “Zis bad man. Why she lives with zis bad man? She was afraid of ’im and now ’e has killed ’er. I know it!”

  “How do you know it, Monique? Do you have any proof that we could take to the police? Anything she told you or gave you other than the red bag? Anything that might prove that Jay was not the one who killed Sylvia and perhaps the others?”

  “Proof! Pff! I do not need proof. My proof is ’ere, in my heart! In my heart I know Abe killed her! M’sieur Ortiz was working for Sylvia’s husband and ’e saw her unhappiness. He saw her beauty. Her sweetness. So ’e made a plan. Such a clever plan! He arranged to have ’er things sent ashore in Stockholm so zis bad husband would think she was gone. But all the time she was here, in M’sieur Ortiz’ cabin. Whether zey were lovers or not, I do not know, but it doesn’t matter. But I do not think M. Ortiz would kill ’er, no?”

  No. He hadn’t killed her and I knew he hadn’t because I had been with him, snuggled up like a sick kitten to a hot rock, or either running scared blue through the backyards of St. Petersburg at the time Sylvia was killed. Like it or not, I was Fernando’s alibi, not Jay’s. My face burned at the thought.

  * * *

  “Proof,” I thought, standing outside Abe’s cabin, waiting for a chance to sneak inside for a once-over. “There must be some proof, somewhere.”

  Mustapha was the cabin steward for Abe’s cabin.

  I found him napping in the steward’s closet. He woke, startled, when I knocked at the open door, and he immediately started apologizing.

  “No, no, no, Mustapha,” I said, “It’s absolutely okay for you to grab a little sleep if you can. You must have had a long night.”

  “I did, Miss Marsh, I did, with all that was happening.”

  “Mustapha, could you let me in, just for a quick look, into Mr. Klein’s cabin? He hasn’t returned, has he?”

  “He hasn’t returned, Miss Marsh, and he won’t be back. But his things are gone. They took them away. The cabin is empty and has already been cleaned.”

  “Has anyone besides you been in the cabin since it was cleaned, Mustapha?”

  “I did not see anyone, and the cabin was locked.”

  “Oh. Well, thank you, Mustapha.”

  Another dead end and still no proof.

  “Miss Marsh?” he said. I turned back to face him.

  “The floor was wet early this morning outside the cabin. There was an empty bottle of champagne on the floor, and just outside the door, I found this.”

  He held up the other half of Sylvia’s leopard string bikini.

  * * *

  Edgar desperately wanted to help Jay out, but couldn’t.

  “I’m afraid I’m no help, Sidney, no help at all. Sylvia slipped into the hot tub with
us about one a.m., wearing the leopard bikini, both bits. I left Sylvia and Jay there, in the water, when I retired at about two a.m. and was sleeping soundly, I’m afraid, when the alarm was raised.

  “Jay told me that he left the deck shortly after I did, leaving Sylvia alone in the hot tub, but I cannot swear that to be true because I had already gone. I was just not there.”

  “Did you meet anyone on deck or in the passageway, Edgar? What about Abe?”

  “I only saw the Murphy family returning from the Midnight Buffet. Abe was said to be in the Mariner’s Bar alone most of the night, and the bartender is vouching for him, although that particular chap is known to accept, ahem, tips. Abe is also saying that he believed, along with the rest of us, that Sylvia left the ship in Stockholm.”

  I persisted. “But what if Abe suddenly discovered her, not in Stockholm at all, but on the ship, living in the cabin of another man? Or half-naked in the hot tub all alone? What then?”

  “I hate to play devil’s advocate, my darling. That is an excellent theory, but what might have occurred is of no use. You need solid proof.”

  Proof. I was back to that word again. Something that exonerated Jay. I needed proof.

  * * *

  I went to my favorite spot on the Lido Deck to think.

  From there I could see the guards standing on the pier by the gangway. The ship was sealed off. No one was being allowed to enter or exit without permission.

  I could also see the hot tub, now cordoned off with police tape, off limits while the investigation was conducted. The sun was shining on the hot tub, the motor was switched off, and the still surface of the water in it was slick and slimy. A layer of oil floated on top.

  I stared at the water.

  Was it suntan oil? Why would anyone use suntan oil after dark?

  I blasted down the outside stair to the hot tub and smelled it on the north wind even before I reached it.