by Mike Befeler
“See what you can find out. I need to extract myself from these accusations, and he certainly isn’t ready to engage in meaningful dialogue.”
“Let’s meet for a walk around the track at eight in the morning,” Andrew said. “I’ll see if I can find out anything tonight.”
“All efforts will be appreciated.”
When we returned to our cabin, Marion reminded me to update my journal.
I reviewed the activities of the day, which only caused my stomach to churn. My best intentions this evening had somehow gone awry. Hopefully Ellen Hargrave would recover quickly from whatever happened to her. And then there was Julian Armour. I had been around two people who ended up in sickbay. I sure hoped everyone bounced back. I also needed to keep Grudion away while I figured out the chain of unfortunate events. And then I had to do whatever I could to assist my crapola memory. I licked my lips, picked up a pen and documented the life and times of Paul Jacobson, cruiser extraordinaire.
Finally, I left a note on top to tell myself to read it in the morning and to meet Andrew for our morning stroll.
* * * * *
I awoke in a state of disorientation, wondering what planet I had plunked down on. I noticed a person of the female persuasion sleeping next to me. Who was she and why were we in bed together? Images of a midnight tryst danced in my addled brain.
I turned my attention to the room. My domain sported off-white walls with reddish-brown veneer. Across the room a modern painting of a canoe, grass shack and palm tree met my eyes. I squinted. Was I in a Hawaiian Motel Five-and-a-Half? Vertical-striped curtains with all the colors of the rainbow covered what must have been a large window, given the light seeping in from the sides. In one corner of the room a small television set was mounted above a telephone and a small table of the same reddish-brown wood, accompanied by one chair. This place was either built for midgets or I had ended up in the economy section. In another corner of the room a mounted table surface contained a coffee pot and cups. Mr. Coffee was waiting to feed my caffeine need. Underneath, a red stool rested. I patted the bed my companion and I had slept in. It was strange. It appeared to be two identical single beds brought together and made up as a double bed. This whole place reminded me of a cramped hotel room.
Just then I spotted a note, which read, “Read this before you pee, you old fart. You have an appointment with Andrew Black at eight A.M. on the jogging track on deck thirteen.”
I wondered what that was all about. Who was Andrew Black and why would I go to a jogging track? I hadn’t run in years. I settled down to read the diary and it all made sense in an absurd sort of way.
I followed the directions, wondering how I would spot this Andrew Black. Fortunately, a man came up to me. “Paul, you’re right on time.”
“Are you Andrew?”
He chuckled. “That’s right. Your short-term memory problem. You don’t recognize me.”
“I read a note, but I wouldn’t know you from Shamu the whale.”
Andrew patted his stomach. “I’m a little skinnier than Shamu.”
“I read in my journal that you were going to check with Grudion. Any results?”
“Yes and no. I did speak with him, but he was very close-mouthed. It has something to do with the murder investigation concerning the massage therapist in the spa.”
“So he won’t talk about Mrs. Hargrave’s niece because of Inese’s death. Does he think Inese is the missing niece?”
“It’s possible, but I couldn’t dredge up anything useful from him.”
“That puts a whole new light on things. Could Inese’s murder be linked to Mrs. Hargrave?” Then it struck me. “And that’s one more circumstantial link that Grudion has against me. I’m there when Inese is murdered. I’m associated with three incidents with Ellen Hargrave. And then last night I asked Grudion why he’s not helping Ellen.” I squeezed my hands to the side of my head. “I can’t remember seaweed from squid except for what’s written in my journal, but none of this looks good for me.”
“It certainly makes it apparent why Grudion is suspicious of you. But obviously there is another explanation.”
“I have no motive for harming Inese or Ellen. But someone else does.”
As we circled the deck I ruminated on this while admiring the green mountains and snow-capped peaks surrounding the port of Skagway. “If there’s snow up there in August, think what it’s like during winter.”
“I don’t imagine there are many people here during the winter,” Andrew said. “I understand the population is only eight hundred people. With our ship and three others in port, we account for ten times the permanent population.”
“Darn tourists.” I looked at my watch. “I better retrieve my bride so we can catch a bite to eat before our train ride.”
“Enjoy your trip. I’m going to take a few more laps around the deck.”
Back in the stateroom, Marion was up and around, making her final preparations, so I decided to check on Ellen Hargrave.
I called, asked to be connected to her room and a woman’s voice answered.
“Is this Ellen Hargrave?”
“Speaking.”
“This is Paul Jacobson. I was worried about you. I’m glad you’re out of the medical center.”
“Thanks for your concern. Apparently there was a problem with some medication I’ve been taking. I’m planning to stay on the ship today to rest.”
“We’re taking a train ride, but I’ll check in with you when we return.”
“If I’m feeling better I’d love to see you and Marion this evening.”
“We’ll give you a full report on our excursion. Marion sends her best.”
After I hung up, I turned to Marion. “That’s a relief. Ellen is doing better and isn’t accusing me of anything.”
“That is good news. Now if her nephew Gary will stop blaming you, that will help.”
“I don’t know about him. From what I read, he seems to be an obnoxious little snot.”
Marion chuckled. “He’s not that bad, but he does act strange. He vacillates between appearing like he wants to be somewhere else and then acting overly solicitous of his aunt.”
“Well, he should protect her from people bashing into me rather than accusing me of being the problem. On another subject, I read in my journal that Jennifer is checking out the name Zarins for me. I should give her a call to see if she’s made any progress.”
Marion fished the cell phone out of her purse, set it up for me and I pushed the green button.
“Jacobson residence,” said a girl’s voice.
“Well, hello. This is the senior member of the Jacobsons.”
“Hi, Grandpa. Are you staying out of any more trouble?”
“No. In Juneau I bumped into the same woman I had in the lifeboat drill and knocked her into a vat of baby salmon.”
“Grandpa, how could that happen again to the same person?”
“This is the second time someone bashed into me causing a chain reaction.”
“You’re not going to make many friends if that keeps happening.”
“You’re right, kiddo. I tried to make it up to the woman, Ellen Hargrave. Marion and I took her and her entourage out to dinner last night. Unfortunately, she fainted and her nephew accused me of poisoning her.”
“How do you end up in these fixes?”
“I’m just lucky. She did call this morning, and it appears she had a problem with her medicine and isn’t holding me responsible.”
“That’s good. Speaking of medicine, have you been good and taken your pills?”
“Unfortunately, yes. Marion keeps cramming them down my throat.”
“Do what she says.”
“Yes, ma’am. And I had one other adventure that you will appreciate.”
“You saw some whales?”
“No. I was chased by a bear.”
“I’m glad it didn’t catch you.”
“So am I. But the ranger accused me of harassing wildlife.”
“I’m sure that was just to scare you so you’d be more careful.”
“It will if I remember to read my journal or avoid going back there again.”
“Grandpa, you be nice to animals and people.”
“I have made a new friend. Andrew Black. He and I walk along the jogging track in the mornings. Of all things he’s a darn lawyer.”
“In spite of your dislike for attorneys, you seem to make friends with them. Meyer Ohana was a lawyer and your best friend in Hawaii.”
“Yes, I read that I gave him a call a few days ago. So, did you find anything for me in researching the name Inese Zarins?”
“Couldn’t find any Inese Zarins but I came across lots of Zarins including a trombone player, an eastern European businessman, a playwright and a professor of theology, to name a few.”
“That doesn’t help much.” Then I remembered something else from my journal. “Wait, here’s a tidbit for you. Inese said she was from Latvia. See if you can find any Latvian connections to the name.”
“When I’m on the computer this afternoon, I’ll check it out. Any other clues on your end?”
“No. Same old, same old. The ship’s security guy, Grudion, keeps bugging me.”
“You have to find some way to enlist him as an ally.”
“Fat chance. He’s too busy trying to lay any misdemeanors or felonies on me.”
“Keep at it, Grandpa, and I’ll continue to research Zarins in Latvia.”
I signed off and with my phone responsibilities completed for the morning, we headed up to graze at the breakfast buffet and then disembarked to catch the train that was waiting for us a short distance along the wharf.
“Look at this service,” I said as we clambered aboard. “We don’t even have to walk into town.”
A conductor presented us each with a small blue bottle that read “White Pass and Yukon Route Demineralized Drinking Water.”
I inspected the bottle. The label on the bottle indicated that it contained 250 milliliters of pure drinking water. Embossed in the plastic surface was the image of a train engine.
“Perfect size for carrying in a jacket pocket.”
The train chugged through town, passed a roundhouse where other engines stood and began climbing an incline through a valley. The view was stupendous: lush green, jagged cuts above the treeline with pockets of snow, deep gorges with water cascading down, a tall abandoned trestle spanning a canyon. At one spot we could see back down the valley to the town of Skagway with the fleet of cruise ships docked there.
“We’re up in this mountain wilderness with a trainload of whiny tourists,” I said.
Marion smiled at me. “Including you.”
“I’m not a tourist. I’m a geezer.”
Marion snapped pictures like mad with her digital camera as we continued up the mountainside.
I thought back to the last time I’d been on a train. With my warped mental acuity I couldn’t dredge up anything in the last half dozen years, but one image came to mind. My first wife Rhonda and I had taken the Zepher through the Rockies and sat in an observation car looking out a clear dome at the wonders of Mother Nature. Our son Denny was with us, and he raced back and forth along the aisle pointing at one rock formation after another. We even saw an eagle soaring above us.
I shook my head. Amazing how the brain works. I could still recall the details of that day forty years ago when yesterday had disappeared into the dustbin of my mind.
We rounded a turn, and again I had a view down the long valley to the sound where the town of Skagway and the large ships rested. I liked the mountains and was glad I wasn’t out in the ocean. This cruise was okay as long as I remained inside a large ship, but the ocean still gave me the willies.
“Look, there’s Julian Armour, the man who was unconscious in the hot tub,” Marion said.
Chapter 12
A man with a shirt that read “Oldsters from Reno” was walking down the aisle toward us, holding a camera.
“Are you feeling better?” Marion asked.
He stopped and then saw me sitting next to Marion and pointed. “No thanks to him.”
“Just a minute, Julian,” Marion said. “Paul found you and called for help.”
He wrinkled his forehead. “I don’t know. First he takes my wallet, and then he does something to me in the Jacuzzi.”
“Hold it a damn minute,” I said. “I did nothing of the sort. I’m sure you’ll find your wallet, and in the spa, I was only trying to help.”
“That’s right, Julian. Paul didn’t mean any harm.”
He at least looked doubtful this time.
“Let’s let bygones be bygones,” I said.
“We’ll see,” he replied and continued to the back of the car. I watched as he went out the door and stood on the back platform, snapping pictures. On his way back he stopped to talk to a couple sitting in front of us. I overheard him say, “I’m still thirsty, but I finished that little blue bottle of water they gave us, and we didn’t bring anything else.”
A thought occurred to me where I might contribute to cruise harmony.
“Julian,” I called out.
He turned. “Yeah?”
I stood up and handed him my blue water bottle. “I haven’t opened it yet. Why don’t you take it?”
Julian raised his eyebrows. “You sure?”
“Yes. I’m not thirsty so you can have it.”
“That’s mighty kind of you. Maybe you’re not such a jerk after all.”
I smiled. “That’s what my bride tells me.”
He faced forward and returned to his seat.
I leaned into the aisle and watched as he twisted the top off the blue bottle, chugging it down. He turned around and waved to me. Maybe I had turned around a problematic situation.
Marion and I continued to admire the scenery. From her window seat she periodically pointed out a rock formation, craggy peak or steep ravine. This would be fantastic country to hike through, and my old legs could withstand several miles of it, but this train ride provided the panorama of views so much more extensive than I could cover on my own. Here was Alaska in all its glory: the forests, streams, wildlife and mountains hampered by only a few pesky tourists crammed in our little railroad car.
My reverie was broken when I noticed Julian Armour sprinting up the aisle like he was attempting to break the hundred-yard dash for the over-fifty senior masters road racers. He sailed past me, and I spun around in my seat to see where he was headed. He reached for the handle on the door of the one restroom in our car. Someone else was obviously inside because the door didn’t open.
I continued to gawk as Julian released the handle and then pushed through the back door of the railroad car to reach the back platform where he had taken pictures earlier. He leaned over the railing.
I was close enough to see that he was retching over the side like a seasick sailor. I could understand that happening on a ship, but on a train?
Turned around in this awkward position, my neck hurt, but I watched as Julian stood up for a moment and then leaned over again for a repeat performance. Poor Julian. I’d hate to be puking my guts out on the railroad tracks.
Finally, he stood erect and wiped his mouth on his sleeve.
I decided I didn’t want to be sitting next to him, but maybe his seat companion would be more tolerant.
He swayed on the platform. I didn’t know if the jerky train caused his motion or if he was still feeling under the weather.
Then he staggered back inside. Rather than immediately heading back to his seat, he stopped beside me.
He pointed a stubby index finger at me. “What are you staring at, and what did you do to me?”
I flinched. “Huh?”
“You gave me a bottle of water.”
“That’s right.”
“What did you put in it? Were you trying to poison me?”
“What are you talking about?”
“I drank the water you gave me and start
ed feeling funny. Than all of a sudden I was sick to my stomach.”
“You guzzled it pretty quickly. Maybe your stomach just protested to that.”
“You . . . you . . . you are a menace. I know you made me sick.”
Marion leaned across me. “Julian, Paul didn’t do anything to the water. He was given the bottle when we got on the train and hadn’t opened it before he gave it to you.”
“He did something to the water. I know it.”
He stumbled off and returned to his seat.
“I’ll never win with that guy,” I said.
Marion patted my arm. “You tried.”
At the top of the pass, the engineer announced that the engine would be disconnected and make a circuit on a parallel and connecting set of tracks to go to the opposite end of the train for our return journey. We were in the last car so we watched as the engine eventually passed by us on the other set of tracks in front of an icy lake. It disappeared around a corner and soon reappeared, backing up to re-engage.
After re-coupling, we headed back down toward Skagway. Half an hour later, the engineer announced a bear sighting off to the right side. We all swarmed to that side of the train and sure enough a big brown furry object was disappearing into the undergrowth. Marion raised her camera and pushed the button. Afterward, she brought the image up and proudly showed me the picture of a bear butt.
“I wonder how this compares to the one that chased you at Mendenall Glacier?”
“Couldn’t say, but I think the other end of the bear was after me that time.”
We safely completed our journey and exited at the train depot in downtown (as opposed to suburban) Skagway. While Marion used the restroom, I waited in the lobby and watched a model train circle above a coffee shop. The walls were lined with pictures of trestle construction, a turn-of-the-previous-century hotel, trains, boats, float planes and prospectors carrying supplies on sleds. I felt like Paul of the Yukon.
“Let’s do some shopping,” Marion announced when she returned. She grabbed my arm and practically dragged me out to the boardwalk. The town was in fine fettle with mobs of tourists dashing around with shopping bags and backpacks. We meandered through several stores, and I noticed a similarity of souvenirs in each shop. Although a few curios appeared to be native-made, when I looked at labels, there were the invariable knickknacks from China.
