by Mike Befeler
I remembered the quarter I had found on the desolate island and retrieved it from my pants. “Okay, Andrew, step aside for a moment. I have a lucky quarter to insert.”
“Gladly. I’m not winning anything here. You sure you want to try this machine?”
“Absolutely. It’s right between these two lovely and lucky ladies, so what more could I ask for in finding a winning combination?”
Andrew stepped away, and I eyed the face of the machine with the three rollers and disks displaying “7,” a sprig of cherries and a rectangle indicating “triple.” I flexed my fingers and then dropped my lucky quarter in the slot. I gave the arm a yank and waited for the spinning sound to be followed by quarters cascading out the return slot.
Instead, I heard a clank and felt the arm jam as if it had hit a brick wall. A red light started flashing on top of the machine and a siren screeched.
All the commotion in the casino came to a stop as if everyone had suddenly become frozen. Then all eyes turned toward me.
“What?” I said, holding my palms up.
A husky young man in ship’s uniform who looked like he had just escaped from a weight room came sprinting up to me.
“Something’s wrong with your machine.” I pointed to the jammed quarter eater.
“Sir, what did you put in the machine?”
“A damn quarter.”
“We’ll see.” He raised a key that was attached by an elastic cord to his belt and opened the slot machine. He pushed a button and the flashing light and siren cut off as quickly as they had started. He tinkered inside and extracted the quarter, holding it by its rim.
“Is this your quarter?”
“I suppose so, let me look at the date.” I reached for it.
“Don’t touch it! Just look.”
“Yes, sir.” I saluted him. “Kind of touchy, aren’t you?”
He turned it so the date showed. 1953. “Yup. That’s the coin I found on a little island today.”
He dropped it in a plastic bag and deposited it in his shirt pocket.
“Hey, what are you doing with my lucky quarter? And how come your machine gypped me out of my winnings?”
The casino had returned to normal except for Andrew, Marion and Helen who were all watching me as the hulk closed the machine.
Rather than answering my question the weightlifter said, “Please come with me, sir.”
“What for?”
He grabbed my arm and propelled me forward. “I need you to be cooperative, sir.”
“I’ll be happy to cooperate if you tell me what you’re all worked up about and where we’re going.”
“You need to come with me to the casino office.”
“You going to show me where you keep all the money?”
“No. We’re going to wait for ship security. They’ll want to talk to you regarding the counterfeit coin you put in the slot machine.”
Chapter 18
Here I was getting in trouble again just because the quarter I had found on the little island was counterfeit. I knew it was too good to be true to have found a quarter out on that pebbly beach.
I turned back toward Marion as my new companion hustled me away.
She had a frown accompanied by a wrinkled brow.
“Don’t worry. I’ll go with Rambo here and catch up with you later. Keep winning in my absence.”
Big Guy force-marched me toward a door. He thrust it open for me and propelled me down a short hallway and into a well-lit office.
I looked around, spotting canisters of poker chips and containers of quarters.
“So this is the money room,” I said, stepping over to examine a counter lined with packets of bills.
“Don’t touch anything. Sit in that chair.” My companion pointed toward an institutional chair resting next to a wooden table.
“Okay. No reason to get heated.”
I sat down, and moments later Grudion marched into the room.
“Mr. Jacobson, your crime wave continues.”
“What the hell is that supposed to mean?”
“Passing counterfeit quarters. Is there anything you’re not into?”
“Yeah. I don’t do drugs. Except for the pills my wife is always forcing down my throat.”
“Mr. Grudion, there is some suspicious residue on the counterfeit quarter,” the bruiser said.
“Really? We’ll test it for chemicals as well as fingerprints.”
“Well, you’ll find my fingerprints on it. I found it on that island where you picked me up today.”
“Do tell. A counterfeit quarter just lying there?”
“Yeah.” Then it struck me. “It wasn’t buried or anything but resting on top of the beach. And it was in good condition, not weathered. I bet either Zarins or his bodyguard Valdis dropped it.”
“Interesting theory. We’ll see if any prints besides yours turn up. Now I’d like to ask you for your fingerprints for comparison.”
“Sure.” I held out my hands half expecting Grudion to clamp on handcuffs.
Grudion extracted a kit and proceeded to ink my fingers and press them on a card. Then he handed me a packet of dry washes, and I cleaned off my fingers. “Not bad service here.” I admired my sparkling fingers. “Now may I return to my wife and friends?”
Grudion regarded me thoughtfully. “Yah. I know this may be difficult for you, but please stay out of trouble on the remainder of the cruise.”
“I can’t make any promises with all the stuff going on around your ship, Grudion. With murderers and crime lords running loose, I’m the least of your worries.”
“I don’t know. It all seems to revolve around you, Mr. Jacobson.”
“Hey, I’m only an old fart who seems to attract the wrong sort of people, like lint on a pair of polyester pants in a low-humidity climate.”
He shook his head.
“I know, go and sin no more. Grudion, we’ll see if this all resolves itself in Victoria tomorrow.”
“I can hardly wait.”
Muscles escorted me back to the casino floor and shut the door behind me. I wandered over to the machine that had abused me and found Andrew watching the ladies plunk quarters into slots.
“These women are amazing,” Andrew said. “Both of them are winning. I finally gave up.”
“At least you didn’t get busted by the local gendarmes.”
“What happened with your little escapade?”
“The quarter I found on the island tuned out to be counterfeit. The strange part is I wouldn’t have expected anyone to have wasted time making counterfeit quarters. Can’t be much profit in it.”
“You make a good point. It’s typically twenty-dollar bills that are counterfeited. For a dollar of product cost the bad guys can make nineteen dollars’ profit. If you can produce quarters for five cents each, you only return twenty cents per coin.”
“My thoughts exactly,” I said. “Why would a crime family bother with quarters?”
“Another of life’s unexplained mysteries, such as why there are always snowstorms on a day of an important meeting.”
“I’ve solved that one. I live in Venice, California.”
He wagged a finger at me. “You be careful. It did snow in Los Angeles in 1964 and there was snow in Malibu in January 2007.”
“I think I can live with that every forty years or so, especially since I won’t be alive and kicking that much longer anyway.”
“I don’t know, Paul. Except for your involvement in crime, you’ll live to be a ripe old age.”
“I’m already ripe and going to seed.”
We waited until the ladies decided they had cleaned out the casino of enough money and lugged their bins of quarters to the cashier.
When they returned, Andrew asked, “What were the evening winnings, ladies?”
Helen held up a handful of bills. “Seventy-eight dollars.”
Marion smiled. “One hundred-four dollars and fifty cents.”
“I’ll be darned. You probably e
arned enough to treat me to a brain transplant.”
“But think of all the fun you’d miss if you could remember like other people.” Marion gave me a kiss on the cheek.
“Right. As if I’d miss starting over every morning.”
“We can start our romance over every day.”
“As long as I have you and my journal to remind me.”
* * * * *
When I survived until eleven forty-five without falling asleep, Andrew, Helen, Marion and I ambled down to the main dining room to find hundreds of our new acquaintances already in line.
“Popular event,” I said.
“If you’re on a cruise, you can’t miss the midnight chocolate event,” Marion said.
“These people have been in training all week.” I pointed toward a group of supersized people in front of us. “Makes me appreciate my stomach.” I patted it, feeling a little extra padding from all the good food that week.
At exactly the stroke of midnight, the doors opened and the feeding frenzy began. When we finally reached the beginning of the tables full of desserts, I reached for a chocolate éclair but before my hand could close on it, a rotund woman draped in what looked like pink curtains snatched it away. I was about to protest, but she shoved her way toward a piece of chocolate cake, which she grabbed before another woman could reach for it. I guarded my space like a dog protecting a prize bone and extracted another éclair.
“Don’t get any chocolate on your fingers or someone might chew them off,” I told Marion.
She smiled. “There certainly are a lot of enthusiastic people here.”
“You’d think they never saw chocolate before. The temperature in this room will probably rise ten degrees with all these people running around berserk on chocolate highs.”
We filled our plates and a waiter led us to a table for four.
“Phew. I’m glad to be out of that line,” Andrew said.
“If you get hungry, you can always go back for seconds,” Helen said.
“I think this is enough to keep me awake all night,” Andrew replied.
I heard a shout at the next table and looked over to see a boisterous group, including a man and woman stuffing chocolate cake in each others’ mouths. The woman’s hat read, “Oldsters from Reno.”
I remembered reading in my journal that we had encountered this group earlier in the cruise. I listened to their whooping and hollering. Then one of the men, wearing a straw hat, wove his way over to our table.
“Les hear more ’thusiasm from this table.” He hiccupped.
I regarded him. “Your group seems to enjoy doing things together.”
He leaned over and draped a soggy arm around my shoulder. “Thas right. We’re the worl’ renown Oldsters from Reno.”
“You don’t look that old to me.”
He flinched and stepped back like I had insulted him. “Hey. We’re old . . . old . . . old.” He poked a finger into my chest.
“You’re just a drunk young whippersnapper as far as I’m concerned.”
“Are you insulting me and the grand city of Reno?”
He leaned toward me but slipped and his head hit the table, his straw hat flying off and plopping into Marion’s chocolate ice cream. He collapsed and disappeared below table level.
A woman came running over. “What did you do to Julian?”
“I didn’t do anything to him. He was drunk and hit his head.” I peered over the edge of the table to see Julian lying on the floor unconscious with a big lopsided grin on his face.
The woman put her hands on her hips and snarled at me. “What do you mean drunk? Julian only had four drinks.”
“If you mean those tropical drinks with pink umbrellas, I think he had more than his fill.”
She patted Julian’s cheek but he didn’t come around.
Grudion and two other men pushed their way through a crowd of chocoholics. The two men lifted Julian and carried him away with his wife trailing behind. She turned and shouted at me. “Why’d you have to hurt him? He was so excited about the chocolate buffet.”
Grudion regarded me. “Causing more problems after our last talk, Mr. Jacobson?”
I shrugged. “Just a guy who couldn’t hold his liquor very well.”
One of the other oldsters approached our table and shook his fist at me. “This man was arguing with Julian. I think he knocked Julian out.”
“Wait a goddamn minute. Julian did it to himself.”
“That’s right,” Andrew said. “Julian was intoxicated, slipped and hit his head on the table.”
“You calling me a liar?” the man said to Andrew.
“Gentlemen. Everyone calm down.” Grudion stepped between the man and Andrew. Grudion escorted the man back to his table and spoke quietly with the people there. Then Grudion returned to our table.
“Now if you will stop harassing other people, Mr. Jacobson, all will be fine.”
I opened my mouth to defend my honor but then thought better of it. Grudion never believed anything I said anyway.
“Do you know who that man is?” Grudion asked me.
“Never seen him before,” I said.
“Actually you have. You were accused of stealing his wallet, and then there was the matter of what you did to him in the hot tub.”
I thought back to what I had read in my journal. “He’s that guy?”
“The very one.”
“He sure gets in a lot of trouble.”
“I think you’re the one who gets in trouble, Mr. Jacobson.” Please don’t disturb any more paying customers.” With that Grudion departed.
“Hey, I’m a paying customer too,” I shouted to the back of Grudion.
“Actually, you’re not,” Marion said. “The trip was free.”
After the commotion and my heart rate had settled down, Andrew said, “You seem to always be in the center of a fracas, Paul.”
“Yeah. I attract these weirdos like flies on a piece of rancid meat. When I get hauled in on this latest charge at least you can testify on my behalf.”
“I’ll be happy to. You’ve done nothing wrong.”
“If only Grudion shared your belief.”
Marion fished the hat out of her ice cream and set it aside.
We finished our chocolate without any more incidents.
The oldsters got up and, with a final round of glares in my direction, departed.
I sighed. “I’ve made another set of friends. Now in addition to Latvian hit men, murderers and the ship’s detective, I’ll have Oldsters from Reno stalking me.”
Once I was sure the Oldsters from Reno had departed, we got up to leave. As we exited the dining room, I looked to both sides to make sure no one was waiting for me with a tire iron in hand.
“Anyone up for a nightcap?” Andrew asked.
“I think I’ve had enough excitement for one day,” I said.
Marion nodded in agreement.
“Let’s meet for a morning walk,” I said to Andrew.
“If you think you’ll be rested by then.”
“I’ll walk you into the deck, you young punk.”
We said our goodbyes, Andrew and I shaking hands and the ladies exchanging hugs and congratulating themselves on their winnings.
As we strolled back to our stateroom, Marion and I held hands.
“They’re such nice people,” she said.
“They sure are. Amid all the problems I’ve encountered on this cruise, they’re the one bright light.”
“Nothing else has piqued your interest?” She gave me a wink.
“Well, there are the whales, but they’re in hiding. And I did find a beautiful woman in my cabin.”
Marion snuggled close against me.
In the lower reaches of my anatomy I felt a change.
“I’ll be damned. Something’s happening to my old body.”
We were at our door. Marion put her arms around me, kissed me and pressed tight against me. “I sure hope so.”
I fumbled with
the key card, getting it oriented wrong in my haste. I took a deep breath and redirected the card. A green light flashed, and I pushed the door open.
Our room was bathed in filtered light from a tiny night lamp. I kicked the door shut, and we embraced and began pawing each other like two randy teenagers.
I came up for air and the next thing I knew, our clothes were flying around like palm branches in a Florida hurricane.
As we were about to jump into bed, Marion said, “Don’t forget the chocolate mints.”
“Oh yeah. I’ve had enough chocolate but no sense having a chocolate bath.”
I grabbed the chocolates on the pillow and flung them onto the nightstand. Then we hit the sheets and began exploring the most interesting parts of each other’s bodies.
“Wow, you’re a hot woman.”
“I haven’t heard that in twenty years—since menopause.”
We engaged and things became hotter. Marion held me tight and I revved up the old body like “the little engine that could.”
After some excited moaning and groaning, the engine let off its steam and we lay there panting in each other’s arms.
“What a woman you are.” I kissed Marion again.
“You’re not so bad yourself.”
I lay there contented and then drifted off to sleep.
* * * * *
I awoke with a start. I knew where I was and remembered the passionate exchange of the night before. The wonder of my weird brain with the pipes unclogged as a result of a little post-midnight cavorting.
After visiting the very little boys’ room, I sat down to document my adventures from the day before in my journal, for once remembering everything clearly.
When I had finished my missive, my stomach felt unsettled and not just because I was hungry. What a bunch of predicaments I had managed to plunk my aging butt into. How would I extricate myself from all the crud? In addition to the unsolved murders, I kept running afoul of this jerk Julian Armour. Everywhere I turned, he and I seemed to have unpleasant encounters. First, he’d accused me of stealing his wallet. Next, I found him unconscious in the hot tub, but rather than thanking me for shouting for help, he was pissed off and claimed that I did something to him. Then I had tried to be nice to him on the train by giving him a bottle of water, but he promptly puked his guts out and blamed it on me. And the little incident at the chocolate feast. That guy Julian Armour was a walking time bomb. I’d just have to stay out of his way for the rest of the trip. That would be healthiest for both of us.