by Karen Quinn
“Let’s just take them all,” Sydney said. “I’m sure we can find a place for them at one of our homes, or on the yacht, maybe the jet.”
Denis shrugged and handed over his black American Express card.
I was amazed at how expensive they were, especially the multicolored silks. A bathmat-size rug cost about ten thousand dollars.
The leather seat burned my leg when we got into the limo.
“Can we get some air back here?” Carleen said. “I’m hotter than a popcorn fart.”
Annie snickered at that expression.
As we drove, Carleen surprised Pops by telling him that she would be giving him the intricate silk rug she had purchased for forty thousand dollars.
Lucille gasped. “But I was going to give you the rug I bought for fifty thousand dollars,” she said.
Oh, dear. It was one thing for Pops to take ten-and twenty-dollar tips from Muttropolis customers convinced their dogs were getting special treatment, but taking forty-and fifty-thousand-dollar rugs from these lovely women who believed Pops liked them best was playing with fire.
“Mom,” Denis said, “isn’t that awfully extravagant? You’ve only just met.”
“It’s my money,” she said, “and I want Sven to have something special to remember me by.”
“I don’t know what to say,” Pops said, blowing each woman a kiss. “Thank you. These will look wonderful in my home, and I’ll think of both of you every time I sleep, er, step on them.”
I wondered how easily dog poop stains came out of Persian rugs.
“Ah ah ah—ohmigod!” Sydney was screaming and flicking her hand wildly. An errant silkworm went flying into Lucille’s lap.
“Aaaaaaaa!” Lucille shouted. “Get that off of me.” She flung it toward Carleen, who ducked.
Sydney turned her purse upside down and shook the contents out on the floor. “Denis, there are worms in my bag.” She took off her seat belt and bolted to the other side of the limo.
“You little fiend,” Sydney said, pointing her finger in Annie’s face. “You did this, didn’t you?”
“Why would I do that?” Annie said. “Daddy, she’s unfairly accusing me.”
“Denis, punish her,” Sydney cried.
The car was just pulling up to the dock. Perfect timing for my exit.
I jumped out, removing myself from the fracas taking place in the limo. To be safe, I ducked into a carpet store in the strip mall across from the ship. I wanted to be sure there were no police cars or suspicious officials lurking around, but I didn’t see anything. It seemed safe to get on board. Then, as soon as I flashed my ID and slipped through the metal detector, two Filipino security guys asked me to come with them. Apparently, the cops were waiting for me in the captain’s office. I was about to be busted in the worst place possible—Turkey.
High Hopes
MY FEET FELT LIKE they were encased in concrete loafers as I trailed the security guards to the Lido Deck. We lumbered past the pool toward the stairs leading to the bridge where Captain Paul had his office. There was a knot in the pit of my stomach and my mouth was as dry as a silk cocoon. As we trudged past the guests who were lazing by the pool, soaking in the Jacuzzi, drinking frozen margaritas, and dancing to “Hot, Hot, Hot” (could someone please teach this band another song?), I wished I could turn back time. Why had I borrowed those dresses? Here I was on the ship doing just fine without them. What made me think I’d magically inherit Audrey’s grace or luck by wearing knockoffs of her gowns? They were fabric and buttons and beads, nothing more.
Please God, don’t let them drag me to some Midnight Express jail. I could see it now. The cops would carry me off the ship kicking and flailing. The band would finally play a different tune: Holl-y, Holl-y, whatcha gonna do, whatcha gonna do when they come for you?
Captain Paul stood politely when I entered his office. He flashed a wide smile, which gave me hope. In front of his desk were two cops sitting in visitor chairs. “Ah, Miss Ross,” Captain said. “There seems to be some sort of misunderstanding. These officers insist that you’re traveling with stolen costumes from a museum. Do you know what they’re talking about?”
Breathe, breathe, I told myself. Act innocent. “What? I have no idea!” My eyes widened in feigned disbelief.
One of the officers, short, dark skinned with a massive, hairy cheek mole opened a manila folder. In it were photographs of twelve Givenchy gowns from our exhibit. “These dresses have gone missing.”
I studied his face (well, mostly his mole). God help me if I end up going to prison in this dermatologically backward country. Then, perusing the photos, I took my time before speaking. “They’re from a show we did at work. What happened to them?”
The officer paused and mopped his brow with a kerchief. “They are stolen and we have information that links them to you,” he said in broken English.
I resented the insinuation even thought it was true. Throwing the folder on Captain’s desk, I said, “Why, that’s ridiculous. Search my cabin. They’re not there.” My luck, John had successfully retrieved them while I was out touring.
“That’s what we plan to do,” the taller officer said. His English was a bit better.
I shrugged. “Fine,” I said, looking at my watch. “But can you hurry? I have a massage at five.”
As Captain, the security guys, and the Turkish cops accompanied me to my cabin, we passed Pops, Lucille, and Carleen, who were enjoying Bloody Marys by the pool. Bunny was reading a novel under a large umbrella, and Aston, wearing only a red Speedo, was dancing the Macarena with a band of other lively (and amazingly limber) octogenarians.
Pops stood. “Is everything okay?”
“Fine,” I said, shooing him away. “I’ll see you at dinner.”
I felt a rush of fear as we arrived at the cabin. John was just leaving. My stomach lurched at the thought that the costumes might somehow be waiting for me inside. But when we entered the room, the only clothes in my closet were those I’d borrowed from Lucille. The policemen searched everywhere and found nothing incriminating.
“We would like to have you into Kusadasi for questions,” the mole cop said, furrowing his eyebrows. There was a fine sheen of sweat on his face.
Captain Paul spoke up. “Absolutely not. She is an American passenger on my ship. I will not leave her in a foreign country when I am responsible for her safety.”
“Then we will come back with the papers of authority,” the mole cop threatened.
“You do that.” Captain asked the ship’s security guards to escort the policemen out, which they did.
I wondered, if a guy saves you from going to a vermin-infested prison where daily rapes, beatings, and upside-down hangings are a virtual certainty, are you obligated to sleep with him? It had been so long since I dated, I didn’t know the rules anymore.
“You’re safe now,” Captain said kindly.
“Thanks,” I said. “But what if they come back with papers? You won’t abandon me, will you?”
“Don’t worry,” he said. “By the time they return, we’ll be long gone. But you’d better not get off the ship in Istanbul. If they arrest you there, I can’t help. Turkish prisons are a nightmare. Did you ever see Midnight Express?”
“Yes, years ago. Thanks, Paul,” I said, giving him a hug. “You’re my hero.”
He blushed. “Just doing my job. So, I’ll look for you tonight in the bar?”
“You betcha,” I said, winking.
As soon as Paul left, John came back in. “Is the coastline clear?”
I sat on the edge of the bed and then collapsed like my legs were made of quivering Jell-O. “That was so close.”
“Yes, but you are safe now,” John said. “I spoke to Jorge on the Golden Goddess.”
My heart pounded like a tom-tom drum at the news. “What did he say?”
“He has the trunk and the bag,” John said. “His passenger’s luggage key wouldn’t open the lock. So they looked at the tags and realized the mistake.
”
An enormous weight whooshed off my shoulders. “Thank God.”
“Jorge said he would check them at the ship terminal in Istanbul, but we’ll have to hide the trunk when we bring it on board. An investigator has joined the cruise.”
“What?” I sat back up.
“His name is Frank Flannagan and he’s with Interpol. I saw a man boarding with his luggage this morning, which was unusual. When he left the ship to visit Kusadasi, I asked the maid who services his room about him. He told her he was an orthodontist, but she thinks that’s a cover story and he is with the authorities.”
“Why?” I asked. “Does Captain know?”
“Captain thinks he’s a passenger who joined us late,” John said. “It happens sometimes. But I am certain the maid is right, because he was seated at your table at his request. I checked with Bradley. How else would you explain that?”
“I don’t know,” I said.
“I’d be careful if I were you,” John said. “Tomorrow I’m going to pick up the trunk in Istanbul and hide it on the ship. When we dock in Civitavecchia, I’ll deliver it to the museum in case you’re being followed.”
“Where?” I asked.
“Roma, that’s the port for Roma.”
I shook my head. “No, I can’t let you get involved. You could be arrested.” But of course, I could and I would if he absolutely insisted.
“I want to help,” John said. “Roma’s my home. I know my way around. By the time the museum realizes what is in the trunk I’ve left, I’ll be gone. This will end your troubles.”
“I hope you’re right,” I said. “It sounds like a smart plan.”
John made his little butler bow. “I am at your service,” he said in a humble tone. Then he backed out of the room with the deference of a royal subject.
How could I ever pay him back? I wondered. And why was he being so nice? From my experience, at least at the museum, people didn’t offer to help without some kind of personal agenda. I shook my head. I was one jaded New Yorker.
The Man Who Got Away
THE RING OF THE telephone startled me. Great, I thought, probably more good news from Nigel, my worthless-in-the-face-of-danger colleague. But no, it was Carleen. She was in tears.
“What is it? Is it Famous?” Please don’t tell me she went overboard.
“N-no, it’s not her,” she said. “It’s Aston. He h-had a heart attack.”
“Oh, my God, is he okay?” I asked. This was awful. Aston was the only likable member of Sydney’s family, probably because he wasn’t related by blood.
“N-no, he died,” she said. “He had a massive heart attack by the pool. I’m with Lucille. She’s a wreck. Denis’ wedding to Sydney means the world to her, and now, with Aston’s death, well, they can’t possibly hold the ceremony.”
Whoo-hoo, I thought. But then I felt terrible. Aston was dead. And he was a sweetheart. “Where are you guys?”
“Medical, Room 217.”
“I’m on my way.” As Aston’s tablemate, it was my duty to be there.
Hustling down to the bowels of the ship, scurrying along an endless hallway, I finally found the doctor’s office. Rushing inside, I asked for Aston Martin’s family and was led to a small room. There was poor Aston lying on a blue, plastic-covered examination table. He was still wearing his red Speedo. His face and remarkably hairy chest were extremely sunburned. So were his ears. Dermatologists always tell you not to forget to put sunblock on the ears and this was why.
Bunny was holding Aston’s head next to hers and crying. Sydney stood across from her mother, her eyes swollen like little mice eyes from weeping. It was the first time I’d ever seen her look bad, which was good. Denis comforted her with his arm around her shoulder, which was bad. Why do even I care? I wondered.
“How will I go o-o-o-on?” Bunny wailed, her face red, mascara streaks running down her cheeks. “He was my world.”
My thoughts were interrupted. Bunny looked stricken. “Remind me how long they were married?”
“Two years,” Carleen whispered.
Bunny heard that. “Two glorious years,” she said. “The best twenty-four months of my life. Why me? Why now?”
“My condolences,” I said, touching her arm lightly.
There was a knock at the door and Pops charged in. “I came as soon as I heard,” he said. “Oh, Bunny.” He attached himself to her like a leech. She sobbed into his shoulder.
Lucille and Carleen gave each other a look, their eyes wide. Since when was Pops friends with Bunny? Was something going on between these two, or had she been ogling him from afar? I needed to have a serious talk with him.
Another knock and Captain Paul entered.
Bunny looked up, her face streaming with tears. “We lost him, Captain. The love of my life.”
“I’m so very sorry,” he said, almost touching her, but then stopping and giving her his handkerchief, along with the card that said he doesn’t shake hands or make skin contact with passengers for sanitary reasons. “We’ll take care of the arrangements when we get to Istanbul. Our concierge will handle everything, including your air tickets home. You mustn’t worry.”
“What?” Bunny said. “I have to leave?”
“Well, Mother, under the circumstances…” Sydney started.
Bunny blotted her tears with Captain’s handkerchief and put on her icy doyenne face. “I refuse to abandon my daughter on the eve of her betrothal. You’ll put Aston in the morgue. We’ll give him a proper burial after the wedding.”
“I really think we should postpone,” Denis said.
“Right,” Sydney said. “It would be bad luck to marry now.”
“Nonsense,” Bunny said. “My ancestors hark back to England. We carry on.”
“I agree,” Lucille added. “Aston wouldn’t have wanted to ruin your big day.”
“Mrs. Martin,” Captain said, “I’m afraid the refrigeration in our morgue isn’t working properly.”
“Surely you jest,” Bunny said. “With all these elderly passengers, I should think this would happen every week.”
“Yes, it occurs regularly,” Captain said. “But on our last cruise, the cooling unit broke and we had to order a special part. We’re picking it up in Rome. Truthfully, though, we rarely need a morgue. Normally, we ship remains home immediately. No passenger has ever asked to stay.”
“Well, this passenger is asking,” Bunny said. “No, she’s demanding. You’ll put him on ice in the ship’s freezer. You do have a freezer, don’t you?”
“Of course, but I’m not sure that’s hygieni—”
“Not another word,” Bunny commanded. “The wedding will go on as planned. Please, Captain, send your crew down immediately to retrieve my darling’s body.”
Captain bowed like John the butler and backed out of the room.
The nurse entered to help put Aston in a body bag. Silently, we waited outside. Soon the captain and the doctor were rolling his bagged remains on a gurney toward the kitchen.
We all accompanied Aston toward his temporary resting freezer, with Bunny sobbing buckets along the way. Pops bolstered her up with his arm around her shoulder. When we pushed the body into the kitchen, all activity stopped, and everyone took off his chef hat or hairnet as a show of respect. Inside, we passed a sink, where a life-size mermaid ice sculpture was melting and would soon exist only in memory and photos, just like Aston.
Captain spoke quietly to Donald, the manager (it said so on his name tag).
“Excuse me, Mrs. Martin,” Captain said, “but would you mind if we store…er…place your husband’s remains in the ice cream freezer? Donald feels he’d have more privacy there.”
“What other accommodations are available?” Bunny asked.
“We have separate freezers for chicken, meat, and vegetables as well.”
Bunny made a brave face. “Captain, I believe my Aston would have preferred the company of meat.”
“Yes, I would agree,” Lucille said. “He was ver
y masculine.”
“As you wish,” Captain said.
Donald led our party into a walk-in freezer that was bigger than my cabin. He and the captain emptied a shelf of roasts, steaks, pork loins, legs of lamb, and other hunks of dead flesh. Donald, Captain, and some kitchen hands gently lifted Aston off the gurney and laid him in the shelf above the calves liver and beneath the veal cutlets.
“We’ll clear this whole area of food as soon as you leave,” Donald promised, “and put up a plastic curtain to give him privacy.”
I didn’t want to be the one to say it, but hello-oh! Wasn’t this some kind of health code violation? Even if it wasn’t, it couldn’t be sanitary to store human remains with tonight’s dinner. I was surprised that Captain didn’t refuse, what with his no hand shaking policy and all.
“Shall I get a rabbi or priest?” Captain said. “Maybe someone should say a few words.”
Bunny held up her hand as if to say stop. “Captain, please, let’s not sully this man’s memory by holding a religious service for him in the same place you store frankfurters.”
“Forgive my insensitivity,” Captain said.
Bunny knelt by his body and stroked the bag. “Aston was so looking forward to being in Istanbul. He’s never been, you know. At least now his body will get there,” she said bravely. “Come, let’s prepare for dinner. Aston’s death shall not cast a pall on our celebration of Sydney and Denis’ nuptials.”
Denis had an uneasy expression on his face. He was thinking, would Sydney continue her vacation if I died? At least, that was my interpretation. I wouldn’t go on with my vacation, I thought. I’d bury you right away, Denis, I promise.
Captain stood at attention as we exited the freezer. When I passed him, I felt a distinct pinch on my bottom. Turning, I caught his eye, and he winked at me. Has this man no shame? I thought. One of his passengers is dead and has been on ice for, what, two minutes, and he’s already hitting on me. Oh, what the hell. I blew him a kiss.
