by Blake Pierce
“Have you seen the musical The Sound of Music?” Emil asked the people at the table.
They all said that they had.
“Well, then,” Emil continued. “The composer Richard Rodgers and the lyricist Oscar Hammerstein the Third wrote ‘Edelweiss’ especially for that American musical. It became so popular that people mistakenly came to think it was a traditional Austrian song. Austria’s actual national anthem is ‘Land der Berge, Land am Strome,’ which means in English, ‘Land of the Mountains, Land by the River.’ It is set to a tune by Wolfgang Amadeus Mozart.”
Chuckling a bit smugly, he added, “Of course, I doubt that you’ll hear this group sing it this evening, because it is in German.”
The people at the table laughed as well, although London suspected that part of their amusement could be at Emil’s somewhat pedantic manner. She wondered whether he knew that he sometimes verged on self-parody.
Maybe he even laughs at himself some of the time.
Or maybe not. So far he hadn’t struck her as having much of a sense of humor, although she thought his intelligence made up for that. It also didn’t hurt that he was so good-looking in that Old World manner, with his long, serious face and thick dark hair.
I guess Elsie was right, she thought.
I do have a bit of a thing for him. But maybe also for …
London cut short her wandering thoughts, reminding herself what she had told Elsie.
“I’m not here for romance. I’ve got a job to do.”
She needed to keep that in mind. Still, it would easier if Emil was just a little less suave, sophisticated, and engaging.
He continued to hold forth to his listeners about The Sound of Music, and how none of the songs in it were ever really performed by the real Trapp Family Singers, and how the musical’s story departed in many ways from what had really happened, and …
Rather surprisingly, the people at the table were clearly enjoying this little lecture. And London had to admit, Emil was being quite entertaining in his way. This was nothing at all like Archie Behnke’s deliberately tortuous lecture about the Second Law of Thermodynamics.
Then the singers started into another song from The Sound of Music—“Climb Every Mountain.”
London felt her throat catch with emotion. She knew that soaring, inspirational song from her childhood, and it also stirred up some of those emotions about sailing into Austria …
Don’t cry, she told herself.
Don’t even think about it.
She’d done a good day’s work, and it was time to unwind, not to let her feelings run away with her. She decided stop by the Amadeus Lounge and see how Elsie was doing, and maybe have a drink.
London took the elevator one deck upward, then went to the large open room in the bow of the Menuetto deck. She wasn’t surprised to find the lounge crowded and busy and rumbling with happy chatter. A long bar stretched across the far end of the room and various clusters of seating arrangements, tables, and potted plants offered a range of possibilities for socializing in small groups. The mini-casino that she and Elsie had set up was off to one side, and several cheerful passengers were hovering around the roulette table.
She heard Elsie’s voice shout out from a table near the bar.
“Hey, London! Come over here! You’ll want to see this!”
She made her way toward Elsie and a handful of people who were clustered around a small table that was pushed up against a wall.
Amy Blassingame was standing there with a drink in her hand, actually looking pleasant and relaxed. London recognized the others as passengers. Rudy and Tina Fiore were young newlyweds on their honeymoon. Steve and Carol Weaver were a middle-aged couple whose daughter had just left for college. They had come on the cruise for what amounted to a second honeymoon. The stout, formally dressed woman was Letitia Hartzer.
“Look what we’ve got here,” Elsie said, gesturing to some objects on the table. “Our own little musical ensemble.”
London saw a group of small upright-standing dolls representing musicians. Dressed in picturesque and colorful embroidered costumes, they seemed to belong to a matching set. One was playing a violin, another a double-bass violin, another a clarinet, another a drum, and another a trumpet.
“How cute!” London said. “Where did these come from?”
Tina Fiore replied, “Rudy and I bought the violinist and the drummer at a little gift stand back in Gyor.”
“It’s a great place to shop,” Letitia Hartzer added. “I bought the trumpeter there too.”
Carol Weaver said, “And Steve and I bought the bass player and the clarinetist at the very same stand.”
Elsie said with a grin, “The five of them were sitting together having drinks when they realized they’d all bought little dolls belonging to the same set. They ran back to their rooms and fetched them and came back and showed them to me. Well, naturally, I thought they’d make a cute little display. The whole group can stay together right here on this table for a while.”
“Too bad there’s no conductor,” Amy commented.
“Oh, but there is!” Letitia Hartzer said. “When I bought my trumpeter at that gift stand, there was a gentleman from the boat there too. He bought the conductor.”
Amy’s eyes widened with interest.
“Oh! Do you remember who he was?”
“Yes, he introduced himself to me. His name was Kirby something … I think his last name began with an O.”
Amy and London exchanged startled glances.
“Kirby Oswinkle?” Amy asked Letitia.
“Why, yes! That was his name! I’m sure of it!”
“And look—there he is!” Letitia added. “Sitting right over there at the bar!”
Sure enough, Kirby Oswinkle was sitting there wearing his nautical cap, flanked on both sides by empty bar stools.
“Hey, I’ve got an idea,” Steve Weaver said. “Why don’t you ask him if he’ll share his conductor for our display?”
London hesitated. It appeared that either Oswinkle had gone to a lot of trouble to sit alone, or else nobody wanted to sit next to him for very long.
“He doesn’t strike me as the sharing type,” Amy muttered.
London silently agreed. But remembering the trove of trinkets she’d seen in the man’s room, London wasn’t surprised that he’d bought one of the musical figures. That meant he had something in common with these other passengers. Maybe that would help with the job of making his trip enjoyable.
“Let’s go over and give it a try,” London said to Elsie and Amy.
Amy crossed her arms shook her head.
“Oh, no, not me,” she said. “After all the trouble he gave me about his room temperature, you can count me out.”
“I think that’s been settled,” London told her.
“Still, that man was pretty rude to me. You two go ahead if you feel like it.”
London realized that she again needed to remind Amy of her role on the ship, and of who was boss.
“Amy, the three of us are all in the passenger satisfaction business—you as much as Elsie and me,” she said. “So come along and be helpful.”
Amy let out a grumble of discontentment, but she followed London and Elsie toward Oswinkle. Elsie went behind the bar and faced the man with a smile, while London and Amy stepped up beside him.
“So how are you this evening, Mr. Oswinkle?” London asked him cautiously.
“OK, I guess,” he grumbled, stirring his drink with a swizzle stick. Gesturing toward Elsie he added, “Your bartender here makes an acceptable martini, anyway.”
At least he’s happy with something, London thought.
Elsie pointed at the group standing around the table with the musicians.
“Hey, we hear that you bought a little doll like one of those,” she said.
“So what if I did?” Oswinkle replied.
London said, “Those people over there wondered if you’d like to share yours for their little display.”
Oswinkle
squinted at the group curiously.
London nudged Amy with her elbow
“I’m sure they’d like to meet you, Mr. Oswinkle,” Amy chimed in.
“I don’t know …” Oswinkle muttered.
“How about a drink on the house?” Elsie added.
Oswinkle looked at her as if he wasn’t sure she really meant it.
He’s tempted, though, London thought.
Finally he spoke.
“It’s only a loan, right? The figure, I mean. I’ll get it back when the trip is over, right?”
“Of course,” London assured him.
Oswinkle glanced around at the three women’s faces, then he nodded.
“I’ll go to my room and get it. I’ll be right back.”
He downed the rest of his drink and got up and left the lounge.
“So far, so good,” Elsie said, starting to make another martini.
“This should get him to mix a little,” London said. “He might actually enjoy himself.”
“I just hope it doesn’t backfire,” Amy said.
Then Amy told Elsie all about Oswinkle’s demand for a rock-steady room temperature.
“Wow, and I thought he was just an ordinary grouchy customer,” Elsie said.
“But Archie Behnke took care of that,” London said.
Amy looked surprised. “Archie told me it wasn’t possible to get the thermometer set the way Oswinkle wanted it. What makes you think it’s been settled?”
“Because Archie gave him a lecture on thermodynamics,” London said.
“Thermodynamics?” Amy asked.
“You had to be there to appreciate it. But I don’t think we’ll have that problem with Mr. Oswinkle again.”
Elsie held up the fresh martini. “Well, maybe this will help mellow him out.”
“I hope so,” London said.
Meanwhile, the passengers had moved back to their large dinner table and were chatting amiably. Elsie put the martini down at an empty place setting and London informed them that Mr. Oswinkle had gone to get his conductor figure and would join them.
“There he is now,” Amy said with a smile.
But Oswinkle burst back into the lounge, waving his arms with agitation.
“There’s a thief on board!” he cried.
CHAPTER EIGHT
London fought down a groan of discouragement.
What now? she wondered.
Kirby Oswinkle was storming through the lounge toward her, his arms still flailing wildly and his face red with anger.
She felt a nudge from an elbow and glanced over at Amy, who was standing next to her.
“Just remember—getting him involved was your idea, not mine,” Amy hissed. “I didn’t want any part of it.”
The five passengers who had brought their musical figures to the lounge simply stared as Oswinkle arrived at the table where they were sitting.
“Why is everybody smiling?” he demanded, his voice hoarse with anger. “Is this somebody’s idea of a joke?”
“I’m sorry,” London told him. “But I don’t know what you mean.”
Amy spoke with exaggerated politeness.
“Why don’t you just sit down with the others?” she said. “We can talk about this calmly, I’m sure.”
Elsie chimed in, “Look here—we even brought you a martini.”
“I’m not in a mood for a martini,” Oswinkle said, pacing furiously. “What I want is an explanation.”
“And we’d be glad to explain if we can,” London said calmly. “Please tell us what you need explained.”
“It was nowhere to be found,” he sputtered. “I looked everywhere.”
London’s eyes widened.
“Do you mean … ?” she said.
“I mean it was stolen! When I went back to get my beautiful little music conductor, it was gone.”
London and Amy exchanged confused glances.
“Are you quite sure?” Amy asked.
“Do you think I don’t know the contents of my own suite?” Oswinkle said. “It was there in its proper place this morning, and now it’s not.”
“Well, it’s just that you have so many things …” Amy began.
“And I know just where each and every one of them ought to be. The conductor has disappeared. It was stolen. There’s no other explanation.”
London doubted that very much.
“But who do you think stole it?” she asked.
“Maybe that’s what you should tell me,” he snapped. “I never let anyone into my suite who doesn’t have some business there. Since we left Budapest, there have been two maids who’ve cleaned my room and changed my bed—”
Amy interrupted sharply.
“Now look here. I hope you’re not accusing anyone on my staff.”
Oswinkle let out a snort of disgust.
“Well, I’m certainly not accusing these passengers.” He waved his hand to indicate those sitting at the dining table. “Not one of them has ever set foot in my suite.” Then looking a little uncertain, he sputtered and added, “Not as far as I know. With all the chaos on board this ship, how am I supposed to know who to accuse?”
London could see that Amy was angry now. She fought down her own rising irritation and said, as pleasantly as she could manage, “Now, Mr. Oswinkle, please think about this. Why would anyone want to steal such a thing?”
“Why does anybody want to steal anything?”
“But surely you don’t think that anybody on the staff—” Amy replied sharply.
“What am I supposed to think? Staff members have been milling around in my suite ever since we first set sail—including you, and also Ms. Rose, and that maintenance man, Mr. Behnke.”
“We didn’t just come ‘milling around’ for no reason,” Amy said, her voice now shaking with barely suppressed anger. “We came to your room because of your complaints about your room temperature. And we did everything we could to help.”
“Huh! You didn’t do anything at all!”
Amy put her hands on her hips and leaned toward him.
“Maybe that’s because there was nothing we could do. Your complaint was just …”
Amy stopped herself.
“Was what?” Oswinkle demanded.
“It was unreasonable,” Amy blurted.
London felt a surge of alarm. She could see that Amy recognized her mistake. But the words were out, and there was no taking them back.
“Who are you calling unreasonable?” Oswinkle’s voice was beginning to get shrill now.
“I’m not calling anybody anything,” Amy said, trying to backtrack. “I’m just sure that nobody on our staff stole your little toy.”
“My little toy!” Oswinkle yelped. “I’ll have you know it’s a work of art. A collectible example of local craftsmanship.”
“Whatever you want to call it, then. If you just go back to your room and look more carefully—”
“I’ve searched my suite from top to bottom.”
Amy couldn’t seem to help but scoff.
“Now really, Mr. Oswinkle. You just left here a few minutes ago. You can’t have looked very thoroughly. Maybe I should come back with you and help look around.”
“Huh! Do you think I want my entire collection to disappear? No thanks!”
He stabbed the air with his finger, glaring at London and Amy.
“I’m going to get to the bottom of this, believe me! And there will be consequences!”
Before anyone could reply, Kirby Oswinkle whirled and stalked away.
The bar patrons, especially the ones who had brought the musician figures, all stared after him as he left the lounge.
Elsie muttered to London, “Even grouchier than I had thought,” and hurried back to her usual place behind the bar.
London turned to the group seated at the table and saw that their expressions ranged from mild shock to amusement.
“I’m sorry for all this unpleasantness,” she told them.
“I’m sure it’ll al
l turn out all right,” Carol Weaver said with a smile.
“I’m sure it will,” London said—although she felt doubtful. “Anyway, I think putting your musicians on display was a marvelous idea. It makes for a charming arrangement.”
The group thanked London for the compliment and began to chatter to each other. Since they all appeared content to go back to their drinks and conversations, London turned to Amy and led her aside.
“Amy, you called him ‘unreasonable.’”
“Well, he was being unreasonable.”
“That’s not the point. You don’t ever say something like that to a passenger. You know better than that.” London paused for a moment, then added, “The customer may not always be right, but the customer is always the customer.”
“What’s that supposed to mean?” Amy asked.
“It’s London’s motto,” Elsie said.
“Huh,” Amy grunted. “It’s a very nice policy when it comes to dealing with sane people. It’s not much good when dealing with a lunatic like Kirby Oswinkle.”
He’s not a lunatic, London almost said.
But right now, he certainly seemed like one.
“I give up,” Amy said crossly. “It’s been a long day, and I could use a good night’s sleep.”
Amy walked out of the lounge, leaving London standing near the bar.
“So what are you going to do now?” Elsie asked her.
London stepped closer and leaned on the polished surface of the long bar top, thinking about the question. Should she walk straight to Oswinkle’s room and apologize? She doubted that it would help, at least not right now. It certainly wouldn’t resolve the issue of the supposedly missing musician doll. And he would likely be offended that she might be checking up on him.
“I guess we should sleep on it—me and Mr. Oswinkle both,” London replied. “Maybe he won’t be this upset tomorrow. Maybe I won’t be this upset.”
“Do you really think somebody stole his little music conductor?”
“I find that very hard to imagine,” London said. “You should see all the trinkets he’s collected all over the world. It’s probably still there somewhere, just misplaced. Maybe tomorrow he’ll let me help him look for it.”
But I doubt it, she thought.
“How about a drink to unwind?” Elsie asked, pointing. “There’s an untouched martini over there on that table. Or I could make you your favorite drink—a Manhattan, if I remember right.”
