by Nancy Warren
Anything that kept Linda out of the casino seemed like an excellent plan to Toni. Linda had decades of experience belting out the entire Dolly Parton song list in the shower, while driving a car, doing her housework—really, every minute she wasn’t talking, pretty much, she was singing. There were times when she sounded more like Dolly Parton than Dolly Parton did.
“Sure,” she said. “I think karaoke would be fun.”
Tiffany joined them in time for dinner, seeming pretty vague about what she’d been doing for the past few hours.
They enjoyed yet another excellent meal, this time at a table with only the three of them, which was actually kind of fun. Linda told her granddaughter about their karaoke plans.
Tiffany said, “Mom, I am only going if you promise me you won’t sing.”
Since one of Toni’s great regrets in life was that she hadn’t inherited any of her mother’s musical talent, she said, “I promise.” Then she grinned. “But you know who should sign up?”
Tiffany was shaking her head before her mom had two words out. “Oh, no. Don’t even think about it.”
“But you have an amazing voice. It’s like you got your grandmother’s talent, plus your dad’s, and completely bypassed my less than stellar musical abilities.”
Toni had heard her daughter play the guitar and sing a few times when she hadn’t known her mom was in the house, so she knew that Tiffany was interested. One day, maybe, she’d share her talent with the world. “Okay. I won’t embarrass you.” Then she added, “At least, any more than I can help.”
“I thought there might be a talent night,” Linda said, recovering instantly from her Caitlyn-induced exhaustion. “But this is even better. Good thing I bought my costume.”
Linda Plotnik did not take karaoke lightly. She dressed in one of her Partonesque gowns, and was well-endowed enough that she certainly didn’t need any gel pads to give anyone the idea that if she breathed too deeply her show would spill out into X-rated territory. Her dress was tight fitting, blue-sequined, and slit up the side. She wore her most elaborate hairpiece, the double thick false eyelashes, and she made the most of having an entire suitcase full of cosmetic products at her disposal.
When she emerged from the bathroom, all ready for her big appearance, Tiffany cheered. “You are hot, Grandma.”
Toni wondered why, if she herself wore one sequin, her daughter shrank away in embarrassment, but her grandmother could corner the entire sequin market and plaster it over her body and Tiffany cheered.
They left themselves extra time, since between the height of her heels and the tightness of her dress, Linda could only take small steps. “You sure you can sing in that thing?” Toni asked as they approached the Orchid Lounge.
“I have to put on my best costume and my best show. This might seem like amateur hour to you, but a lot of former show people love cruising, you know. Plus, the grand prize is a thousand dollars.”
“A thousand bucks? For karaoke?” Tiff seemed amazed.
Toni glanced at her. “You sure you don’t want to give your grandmother some competition?”
“So sure.”
They entered the lounge and found it surprisingly full. Two of the cruise entertainment directors were on hand, a young woman and Ryan from Brisbane, who’d been in charge of the line dancing.
Linda saw him too. “If they do a talent night on board,” she announced, “We are going to demonstrate line dancing.” She glared. “As it should be performed.”
Since she was an excellent dancer, Toni was happy to agree.
A number of people were already in line to sign up for the karaoke. Toni wasn’t certain if it was the money or the chance to show off their skills that had them thronging to put their names down, but she suspected it would be a fun evening.
While Linda headed to the front, she and Tiffany found a table with a great view of the floor. When Linda returned, Tiff said, “I was checking out your competition, Grandma. You should take it on stage presence alone.”
“Why, thanks, honey.”
“Though I would worry about the Tom Jones lookalike at three o’clock. I totally think he’s wearing a hairpiece on his chest.”
Chapter Eight
I never forget a face – but in your case I’ll make an exception.
– Groucho Marx
Karaoke started right on time. Skimpily clad waitresses strolled among tables taking drink orders, and ship passengers wandered in and out of the lounge, but there was a hardcore group gathered, like Toni and her family, in the best seats. They were the performers, friends and family of the performers, and people who obviously loved watching karaoke.
“Welcome, everybody, to our karaoke competition!” Ryan from Brisbane boomed, sounding so excited to hear a bunch of amateurs sing songs he’d probably never heard of that he could hardly stand it.
Everybody clapped as he introduced himself and his “lovely co–entertainment director, Kimberly Martin from London, England!”
Kimberly then took over. “Now, let’s get started right away. We’ve got Mr. Nigel Waterford on first—come on up.”
It took Mr. Nigel Waterford a while to come on up since he was about a hundred and twelve years old and needed the help of his equally aged wife to get him and his walker up on stage. But he was a game performer.
“I bet he performed on the Titanic,” Tiff whispered as he cleared his throat and accepted the mic.
“And what are you going to sing for us, Mr. Waterford?”
“I’m going to sing, ‘Thank Heaven for Little Girls.’”
“Good choice for an aging voice,” Linda said. She never made the mistake of discounting her competition because of initial impressions.
The music came up and it was soon clear that Mr. Nigel Waterford was too nearsighted to read the prompter. It didn’t matter. Toni had seen the movie countless times growing up, where Maurice Chevalier talked/sang the words, and since Mr. Waterford was probably the same age Maurice Chevalier would be if he were still alive, he clearly knew the song inside out.
He didn’t follow the prompted words, but his rendition was close enough to the music that it didn’t matter. He was an old charmer and when he was done, the applause was thunderous.
Linda looked worried. “You always have to watch out for the sympathy vote,” she said.
The second performer was called up on stage. She was a tiny woman with a bad perm who sang “Wind Beneath My Wings” in a powerful voice that hit most of the notes she was aiming at.
Amid the polite applause as she reclaimed her seat in the audience, Toni noticed Caitlyn and most of her wedding party walk in. The girls all still looked terrific and she enjoyed a moment of pride in a job well done.
The men looked less terrific—as though they might have indulged in buckets of beer consumed in the sun all afternoon. There was a certain boisterous unsteadiness to them. As they found a couple of tables side by side, the third performer was called up. It was the Tom Jones lookalike and within a minute of beginning “Delilah” he had the audience laughing and clapping and whistling. The guy was clearly a seasoned performer. He combined charm, humor, and a pretty good singing voice and when he was done, the crowd went as wild as a group of cruise ship passengers can.
Toni suspected that what happened next was his fault. There was pushing and shoving and joking from the bridal party and the next thing she knew, Matt the groom and two of his supporters staggered up to the entertainment directors and added their names to the list. “Oh, this should be fun,” she muttered.
She turned back to Caitlyn and the girls, wondering why no one had stopped the guys from signing up, when her attention was caught by a man standing outside the club and staring in. She wasn’t sure what it was about him that snagged her attention. Maybe it was that he didn’t seem to fit. He was in his late thirties, she guessed. And the word thug crossed her mind. Something about his expression and the way he held himself suggested suppressed violence.
He was obviously lo
oking for someone and she knew the moment he’d found the person he wanted. He stepped forward and blocked that person’s path. The gesture made her think of bullies in dark alleys. To her shock, the person whose path was being blocked was Dr. Madsen.
What on earth? Did the scary guy have a medical emergency? A sick partner or child?
The doctor stopped and they exchanged a few words. There was something oddly familiar about the thug. “Tiffany,” she said, leaning close, “do you recognize that man out in the corridor talking to the doctor?”
Her daughter turned. Then turned back. “He looks like a creep. He was on our tender coming back from the Bahamas.”
Of course, he’d been on the shore excursion. She watched for another minute and then the thug stalked off. She thought the doctor sagged for a second. He watched the man for a minute and then turned in the other direction and walked away.
It was a short encounter, but it bothered her.
“Why are you interested in him?” her daughter wanted to know.
“I’m not. He just doesn’t seem like he fits in here.”
“I know how he feels.”
When it was Linda’s turn, Toni whispered, “Break a leg,” and Tiffany said, “You go, Grandma.”
They clapped enthusiastically, and she heard another enthusiastic clapper behind her. Turning, she recognized her mama’s new friend from Bingo. He was alone at a table and looked dazzled by Linda.
Ryan from Brisbane also looked a little dazzled when Linda arrived on the stage. His gaze dropped to her cleavage as though it couldn’t help itself. “What’s your name?” he finally managed.
“I’m Linda Plotnik, and I’m from Tennessee, originally.”
“Well, Linda, what are you going to sing for us tonight?”
“I’m going to sing a song by my all-time favorite performer, Dolly Parton.”
There was a wolf whistle from the bridegroom’s table. Linda turned in a flash of blue sparkle and sent a dazzling smile to the table of drunks. “I see I’m not the only fan. This one’s for you, honey. It’s called ‘Nine to Five.’”
As many times as Toni had heard her mama perform that song, she still loved how Linda truly seemed to turn into her idol. She had a strong, true voice and enough natural charm and sex appeal that the entire room fell at her feet.
Everyone was singing along, including Tiffany, for the final verse. When she was done, the applause was deafening.
She leaned close to Tiff. “I might be biased, but I don’t think Tom Jones stands a chance.”
“She blew him out of the water,” Tiffany agreed.
As she made her way back to their table, Linda was stopped several times by people shaking her hand, patting her on the back, and obviously praising her to the skies. Toni imagined her mother’s cruise had reached its pinnacle. “Well,” she said, when she returned to their table. “That was fun.”
“You were amazing,” Toni said.
“Nailed it, Grandma.”
Her friend from Bingo came forward and offered her his congratulations. “I have never heard anything I enjoyed more,” he said. He managed not to stare at her bosom while he talked, which Toni thought showed class.
“Why, thank you,” Linda said. “Would you care to join us?”
“I’d be honored.”
“Girls, this is Roy. And Roy, this is my daughter Toni and my granddaughter Tiffany.”
“Honestly, I would have thought you three were sisters,” he said, earning the gratitude of two of the three women at the table.
“Grandma’s got a boyfriend!” Tiffany chanted when they returned to their stateroom.
“I do not,” Linda said, but she blushed and giggled.
“You could have had any man in there. You were hot, Grandma.”
“We’re only ever as old as we decide to be,” Linda informed her granddaughter. “And tonight I feel about your age.”
“It was so awesome when you won,” Tiffany said, still high on the excitement.
“I know. I could not believe it. I was so surprised. Which reminds me, I have a surprise for you both,” Linda said, sounding excited. “I bought us all a present.”
“A twenty-two-thousand-dollar emerald?” Tiffany asked, opening her eyes wide.
“One day, if I make a fortune, it will be,” her grandmother assured her. “In the meantime, look at these.” She and Roy had walked back together and it was clear they’d stopped at the picture gallery where all the shore photos were for sale. She pulled out a large envelope with the ship’s logo imprinted on it and presented it to Tiffany. She had an identical one for Toni.
“Oh, how exciting,” Toni exclaimed. She opened her package and withdrew an eight by ten photo. It was the picture the ship’s photographer had taken of the three of them when they’d left on their shore excursion.
“Isn’t it good of the three of us?”
“It is.” Toni studied it. The three Plotnik/Diamonds looked happy, lightly tanned, and like the family they were. In the background she could see a stream of passengers heading down the dock in the direction of the shopping arcade.
“Thanks, Grandma,” Tiffany said, jumping up and giving her a hug. “It’s a perfect souvenir.”
Toni agreed. She set hers up on the table beside her bed, where she could enjoy it for the rest of the cruise. When she got home, she’d have the photo framed for her living room.
*
It had been a good night, and when they woke up in the morning the sun was shining, the skies were blue, and the water sparkled.
“Who’s up for Zumba?” Toni asked.
“Go away, crazy woman, and bring back my mother,” Tiffany groaned.
Linda said, “You go on. Roy asked me to go to Bingo with him again.”
“Tiff?”
“Going to the gym.”
Toni’s main reason for going was to see Alicia. But when she got to Zumba, Alicia wasn’t there. Of course, it was probably nothing to worry about, but Alicia had seen something or someone that had scared her so much she’d jumped up and run away. Then, when Toni had seen her later, the woman had tried to convince both of them that she’d been mistaken. No doubt she was, but Toni would feel a lot better to see Alicia at the dance workout. She’d said she never missed a Zumba class and now she hadn’t showed.
Never one to sit idly by when something bothered her, she jiggled and flubbed her way through the class. After it was over, she asked in a very loud voice, as though addressing a room full of eager new recruits at a sales convention, “Does anyone know where Alicia is?”
She drew attention, but mostly it was blank stares or headshakes. Finally, one of the women who’d been at coffee the day before said, “She’s probably got the Norovirus.”
“Oh, no. When did she get sick?”
The woman shrugged. “I heard that twenty-five percent of the passengers are sick.”
“Do you know what cabin she’s in?”
“No.”
“Her last name?”
“Sorry.” And the woman headed for the door as though she had a number of places she’d rather be.
Toni knew she’d been pushy, but it was worry driving her. She didn’t want to think of Alicia sick with no one fussing over her.
By now, there was a general feeling of uncertainty hanging over the ship. The captain’s bulletin the night before had contained detailed instructions about not touching anything, and washing hands frequently. Crew members were stationed at the entrance to every restaurant and the buffet making sure that no one got near eating areas without sanitizing their hands. The cheerful group dinners were abandoned as people stuck to their own parties. It wasn’t a problem—there were plenty of tables in the half-empty dining room.
Toni was becoming used to navigating the narrow corridors, dodging the carts the stewards used, stepping to the side when anyone was coming the other way, and walking with the slight sway of the moving ship. When a man came out of a stateroom in front of her, she paused so as not to bum
p into him. He was putting what looked like a wad of cash in his pocket. As he shut the door, he turned toward her and she recognized the doctor.
He nodded briefly and would have passed, but she stopped him. “Dr. Madsen,” she greeted him cheerfully. “You treated my mother.”
“Yes,” he said, as though he remembered her. “Is she feeling better?”
“Much.” Before he could move on, she said, “I have a new friend on board. Alicia. I don’t know her last name. Is there any way I can find out about her condition? I’d like to take her some magazines or something. Let her know I’m thinking about her.”
He shook his head. “Not unless you’re family. Wouldn’t help you if you were. If she has the Norovirus she’ll be quarantined in her room. Very important to prevent the virus spreading.” He shrugged his shoulders and opened his hands wide as if to say, and you can see how effective that is.
She wondered if he’d been making a visit to a sick person and, if he was, why he wasn’t wearing the protective gear himself.
And where was his doctor’s bag?
The door opened again and the same thuggish guy she’d seen the doctor with the night before strode out. He checked when he saw Toni and the doctor standing there, and for a second she felt he might retreat back into his stateroom and slam the door. Instead, he stepped out. Shut the door behind him and nodded curtly at her and Dr. Madsen before striding off down the corridor.
When he’d turned off toward one of the elevator banks, the doctor murmured, “Excuse me,” and strode off in the opposite direction.
She checked out the name card on the outside of his door: A. Vlodovitch.
There did not seem to be a Mrs. Vlodovitch, or any other person sharing the suite.
She didn’t know why the doctor was visiting the thug-like man. He certainly didn’t look sick.
Chapter Nine
Any woman can fool a man if she wants to and if he’s in love with her.
– Agatha Christie