by Mike Befeler
“These new-fangled gadgets are too complicated for me.”
“It’s easy to use. Green on. Red off.”
“Like my memory. Too bad my brain’s set for red overnight. Say, Jennifer mentioned I have a friend in Hawaii named Meyer Ohana.”
“That’s right. I know him as well. You were buddies and he helped you catch a murderer.” Her eyes lit up. “You should give him a call. He’ll want to hear that you’re once again being questioned by the police.”
“Just as long as I don’t have to ask him to represent me. Darn lawyers.”
Marion pushed some buttons on the phone. “Here. Austin programmed in Meyer’s phone number for you. You can call him.” She handed the phone back to me.
“I know. Green.” I pushed the blasted button.
A woman with a melodic voice answered. I assumed this wasn’t Meyer, so I asked for him. She indicated he was at the breakfast table but would retrieve him.
I imagined a dog picking up a giant bone.
Finally, a male voice came on the line.
“This is Paul Jacobson of the fleeing memory. Am I speaking with Meyer Ohana?”
“Paul, it’s great to hear your voice.”
“I suppose it’s good to hear yours except I don’t recognize it from cream cheese. I understand we’re friends from my Hawaii days.”
He chuckled. “That’s right. You sound like you’re at the bottom of a well. Where are you calling from?”
I adjusted the useless container of electronic parts. “I’m in Seattle preparing to launch upon an Alaskan honeymoon cruise.”
“You’re quite the adventurer, Paul. Traveling all over, getting married, now preparing to brave the waters of Alaska.”
“Brave is right. I’m the original landlubber.”
“I remember that. But you’ve braved the ocean before.”
“I don’t recall anything other than sticking a toe in the surf.”
“I’ll recount the story for you sometime.”
“Won’t do any good. I’ll just forget it again anyway.”
“So have you found any dead bodies yet?”
I almost chocked on my spittle. “I just spoke with Jennifer and she asked the same question. What’s the deal with dead bodies?”
“Paul, some people have magnetic personalities, but in your case you attract other things.”
“And here I thought I was just a harmless old geezer.”
“Don’t misinterpret what I’m saying. You don’t do anything wrong, but you seem to have a knack for being the first on the scene when a murder has been committed.”
“My kismet.”
“Apparently so. Now are you going to tell me what happened or do I have to ask Marion to pick up the phone to explain?”
“There wasn’t much to it.” I proceeded to give him the gory details.
“And once again your temper put you in a bad spot because you were seen arguing with the victim shortly before his death.”
“Yeah. That’s the problem. For an old poop I shoot my mouth off at the wrong time. You’d think I’d know better by now.”
“You’ll never change, Paul. That’s what I like about you.”
“You, Marion and Jennifer seem to be my cheerleaders. If only Detective Bearhurst would pick up the pompoms.”
“You have to provide the detective with some leads of other suspects to pursue.”
“Since this all happened so quickly, I don’t have any good ideas. Jennifer had me visualize the scene but nothing popped into my addled brain.”
“Think of other connections, such as who might have been in the area around the murder.”
“I’ll keep working on it but so far no brainstorms, only brain farts.”
“Keep at it and enjoy the whale watching.”
I would have rubbed my hands together except I had to hold that stupid piece of junk next to my ear. “I’m looking forward to seeing pods and pods of whales.”
“Paul, there’s someone else here who will want to speak with you.”
“A long-lost relative?”
“No. Henry Palmer. Henry used to sit with us at the dining room table in the Kina Nani retirement home. We were quite the threesome of eligible bachelors until Marion broke up the trio. You probably don’t remember Henry though.”
“Can’t say as I do.”
“Henry is short, squat and bald. He suffers from Asperger’s syndrome, which leads him to be very focused on things he’s interested in like his coin collection and baseball facts, but he lacks the social graces, so don’t be surprised if he insults you.”
“Great.”
Meyer chuckled. “You two had quite the dialogue going at times, provoking each other.”
“Since I mouth off too much, I can understand that.”
“Henry had a heart attack followed by surgery and moved to the same care home I’m in for additional assistance. Let me bring him to the phone.”
I heard the receiver clunk down and then waited. After some background mumbling a hoarse voice came on the line. “Hello, jerk.”
“You sound like you have gravel in your mouth, Henry.”
“My throat has never been the same after the doctor crammed a tube down it during my open heart surgery.”
“So you survived in spite of your acerbic personality?”
“Yeah, so I could continue to put up with morons like you.”
This guy was starting to piss me off, but I kept my cool. “Well, I’m glad you pulled through even if it didn’t improve your sweet disposition.”
“Found any dead bodies lately?”
I felt like chewing up the cell phone and spitting out the pieces. “Don’t start that up. Meyer can tell you what happened.”
“Meyer’s a useless old goat.”
“He speaks kindly of you.”
“You’re all a bunch of retards.”
“Don’t take any wooden nickels in your coin collection and put Meyer back on the line.”
There was a pause, and then in a quiet crunchy tone I heard, “I miss you.” Then some shuffling noises and Meyer came back on the phone.
“Did I overhear Henry say he misses you, Paul?”
“Yeah. After insulting me up one side and down the other, he threw that in at the end.”
“I’ve never heard him say something like that.”
“Maybe he’s trying to reform.”
“Paul, you do have a positive impact on people. I miss you as well.”
I sighed. “This memory loss is a pisser of a problem. I wish I could remember you. Thanks for the gracious words.”
“Say hi to Marion for me and give a call again. It’s always good to hear from you.”
“Will do. And tell Henry what I related to you. He asked the same stupid question that everyone else has concerning me finding a dead body.”
After we said our good-byes and I pushed the red button, Marion said, “I better call my daughter Andrea as well.”
She used the cell phone and spoke for a few minutes. Then I heard her say, “Hi, Austin. Yes, we are.” Marion alternately listened and talked for a few minutes then she handed the phone to me. “Here. My grandson Austin wants to speak to you.”
I put the thing back to my ear. I might as well have glued it there.
“Hello, Austin. Your grandmother says you set up this tiny phone with telephone numbers of people we know.”
“Yup. I figured you wouldn’t use it otherwise.”
“Well, thanks. This is the third call we’ve made this morning.”
“Find any dead bodies yet?”
I almost threw the phone against the wall. “Why does everybody ask me that?”
“You have a reputation to uphold.”
“To answer your impertinent question, I did find a dead man in a flower garden this morning.”
“Cool.”
“That was exactly Jennifer’s reaction as well. Are you two in cahoots?”
There was a pause on the line. “We talk onc
e in a while.”
“Do I detect a budding friendship?”
“She’s cool.”
“I think so, too. Your grandmother and I will be boarding the ship soon to visit Alaska.”
“There are supposed to be all kinds of whales up there.”
“That’s what I hear. I’m ready to spot them by the dozens.”
“Now tell me more. You mentioned a body in a garden.”
I sighed. “Everyone wants to hear the details. Okay. This is what happened.” I went through the litany of events again. I was beginning to sound like a broken record.
“And the police detective suspects you because you were at the scene of the crime and had been seen with the victim earlier.”
“Exactly.”
“But you didn’t do it, so some time between when you argued with the man and when you found his body someone else killed him.”
“Precisely, Dr. Watson.”
“Huh?”
“Just a saying.”
“So who else could have been in the area?” Austin asked.
“I saw other people in the park earlier, fish and produce sellers, various homeless people and a few stray early-morning tourists like myself.”
“Probably wasn’t another tourist, not likely to be a regular park visitor or food seller. I’d vote for a homeless person.”
“Jennifer’s conclusion was someone with a grudge.”
“There you go. Now all you have to do is make sure the detective checks out all the homeless people with grudges.”
“Given the size of Seattle and the number of street people I saw this morning, that’s no easy task.”
“Still, it makes more sense than you doing it.”
“My sentiments exactly. We’ll see what the good detective comes up with by the time my ship comes in.”
“Jennifer and I will talk it over and see if we can come up with any new ideas. She’s planning to be a private investigator when she grows up.”
“That’s what she told me. How about you? What are your career plans?”
“I’m only in middle school, but I have some thoughts.”
“Which are?”
“I think I’ll become a lawyer.”
“Useless attorneys.”
“You’re not a big fan of lawyers?”
“No. Why do you want to go to the Dark Side like that?”
“Lawyers have to be very logical, figure out a strategy and convince people. Besides, I like to talk.”
“I can tell. Do you want to speak with your grandmother again?”
“Sure.”
I put Marion back on, and they yakked for another ten minutes. When Marion finally pushed the red button she said, “Austin has become quite a fan of yours.”
“Sounds like a fan of Jennifer as well. Our grandkids make quite a pair.”
“That’s for sure. I think we’ll be leaving the planet in good hands with those two.”
With all of our phone correspondence caught up on, the next order of business was to check out of the hotel and catch a cab to the wharf.
* * * * *
We exited the taxi into a scene of mass chaos. We schlepped our bags to a line to check them in with hundreds of our closest new companions.
A boy of ten or so bumped into my leg.
“Be careful, Sandor. Don’t run into the nice man.”
“No problem,” I said, patting the rascal on the head. “And thank you for calling me a nice man.”
As we waited in line, I said to Marion, “Maybe I should enlist that boy’s mother as a character witness if Detective Bearhurst keeps after me.”
“I’ll be a character witness as well,” Marion said. “You are a certified character.”
I raised an eyebrow. “I’ll have to start swatting you for telling bad puns.”
When we finally reached the front of the line and handed our luggage to a large gorilla in a uniform who tossed our bags on a conveyor belt, we were directed to go back outside and upstairs to wait in another line.
Following the lemmings, we mounted the stairs and reacquainted ourselves with the mob of people. Shortly, a pleasant woman in a white uniform inspected our tickets. “These have the VIP seal,” she said. “You can move to that station.” She pointed toward a counter with no one else in line. All the other counters had fifty or so people waiting.
“Hey, this isn’t so bad,” I said as we once again handed over our tickets and passports. “I wonder how we rate such treatment?”
“You were given these tickets by a businessman you helped in Colorado, Paul. They certainly arranged the royal treatment.”
“Nothing but the best for my bride.”
After a moment of checking and stamping, a machine spat out two plastic credit cards.
“What are these?” I asked.
“You charge everything on the ship using these cards, and they are your identification when embarking or disembarking,” the clerk informed me.
“So I better guard it with my life,” I said.
She gave me a pearly white smile. “Not that extreme, but it’s best not to lose it.”
I inspected my card. It read Scandinavian Sunshine, the name of our home for the next week, had my name in crisp capital letters, the ship phone number in case I got lost and wanted to call the captain, and a muster station assignment.
“I haven’t been assigned a muster station since I was in the Navy during World War II,” I said to Marion. “I hope I pass muster again.”
She swatted me.
The woman behind the counter who had watched our antics said, “Now please smile for the camera.”
We each had our picture snapped.
Continuing to be nosy, I inquired about the photographs.
“It’s part of our security system. When your card is scanned, your photograph is brought up on a monitor to validate the correct person is getting on or off the ship.”
“Also to make sure I don’t steal the captain’s silverware.”
She chuckled. “We do scan what you carry onto the ship, so be careful.”
As we moseyed up a gangway, I finally had a view of a glistening white hull. Sure enough, it was the one I had spotted earlier in the morning.
I looked down as we passed over a small stretch of water separating the ship from the dock. I gulped. I wasn’t afraid of heights, but the ocean always gave me a queasy feeling. And here I would be surrounded by water for a week. Anyway, this ship seemed large enough to stay afloat.
“So how do our suitcases get to the right room?” I asked Marion.
“Our cruise packet had luggage tags. I put them on and someone will deliver them to our place, Room 10610.”
“I’m glad you’re on top of all the details.”
“My job is to make sure you arrive safely and stay out of trouble.”
“Well, you haven’t been doing your job very well. I’ve already stepped in the doo-doo in Seattle.”
Marion squeezed my arm. “Now you’re on the cruise so you’ll avoid any more trying events.”
“I sure hope you’re right.”
We worked our way along the deck and entered the body of the ship through large seaworthy doors to find a bank of elevators, one of which we took up to the tenth floor.
“We’re in the high rent section,” I said.
Once we deciphered the numbering scheme, we located our room mid-ship on the port side. I was starting to feel all nautical with visions of bows and sterns dancing in my head.
We tested both our key cards to our satisfaction and entered our room to find a cozy double bed, small sitting area and balcony. I stuck my head in the bathroom.
“Good thing we’re both trim and fit.” I patted my still-flat stomach. Next I slid open the patio door and discovered two chairs facing out across Elliott Bay. The sun reflected off the water, and I watched two small cabin cruisers motor past.
“Look, Paul, we have a newsletter with all the events for the day.” Marion handed me a four-page
missive that described a hypnotist show taking place at 7:30 and 9:30 that night, all the restaurants that would force food down our throats, a mandatory lifeboat drill at 3:30 and numerous shops where I could invest my retirement savings.
“We’re not going to be bored on this trip,” I said.
“No, and I want to join the spa.”
“Oh, pshaw,” I replied.
Just then there was a knock on the door.
“Is the welcoming committee here already?” I asked.
I opened the door to discover a man approximately my height with flaming red hair. He wore a white suit with a Scandinavian Sea Lines insignia on the lapel.
“You here with our luggage?” I asked.
“No, Mr. Jacobson. I’m Norbert Grudion, head of security for the Scandinavian Sunshine.”
Chapter 4
I wondered why the head of the ship’s security would be making a call on little old me. I didn’t know if I should join him in a Swedish polka or whip up some meatballs.
“Well, come on in and make me feel secure.”
He raised an eyebrow but followed me into the cabin.
“Marion, we have a visitor.”
Grudion introduced himself to my wife.
“What brings you to our part of the ship?” I asked.
He tapped his right index finger on the dark wood panel opposite the bed. “Yah, I wanted to meet you, Mr. Jacobson. I’ve received several conflicting reports about you.”
“My reputation precedes me.”
“So it seems. First, I was given a message that you were to be accommodated the full VIP treatment.”
“My wife is interested in the spa. Is that like a spa treatment?”
He wrinkled his nose. “Yah, I was asked to make sure you received a special invitation to join the Captain’s table tonight in the Discovery Room at seven P.M.”
“I’m up for any new discoveries.”
“Paul, that’s wonderful,” Marion piped in.
“Then my bride and I accept your kind invitation.”
“But here’s the incongruity.” Grudion paused, pursing his lips. “I also received a report from the Seattle Police Department warning me that you were a person of interest in a homicide investigation.”
I gulped. “Well, some people think I’m an interesting person. But regarding what happened earlier, it was just a minor misunderstanding. I happened upon a dead body in a garden this morning.”