by Mike Befeler
“Seems less likely to me. Who would know that Inese came from a crime family?”
“The only one on the ship is the waiter, Erik, who I now know actually works for Karlis Zarins.”
“Hmm. So he’s either a faithful follower or trying to take over Zarins’s operation.”
“Either could be the case. With this mess, anyone could have done it.”
“And who could have kidnapped Marion?” Jennifer asked.
“Again, no clues other than it being a man, so it couldn’t have been Gina.”
“Too bad no one recognized the kidnapper.”
“That would have simplified things. There’s so much I haven’t figured out yet. Plus, I don’t expect Karlis Zarins to pack his tent and head back to Latvia without some resolution to his daughter’s death. And Grudion is like a bulldog. A little misdirected but tenacious.”
“You be sure to call and tell me everything, Grandpa.”
“You’ll be one of the first to hear.”
We said our goodbyes, I pushed the red button and handed the cell phone back to Marion.
“Since this is our last day on the ship, we should make one more trip to the spa,” Marion said. “In addition, it will be safer if we’re around other people. We also can play bingo again and go to the talent show this afternoon in the theater.”
“Sounds like my tour director has my day planned for me. And I’m pretty talented. I can do my forgetting trick and make whales disappear.”
“You be good and don’t cause any commotion.”
“Yes, ma’am.”
“And then we land in Victoria in the late afternoon and have our tour of the Butchart Gardens this evening.”
We retrieved our swimming gear and made the pilgrimage to the spa. Once ensconced in the hot tub, we let the hot water work its magic on our aging bodies. I looked around the room, verifying that we were surrounded by enough people that no one would try to do us bodily harm.
“I could get used to this life,” Marion said, with just her head peeking out of the water.
“You mean being chloroformed and abducted every morning?”
She splashed water at me. “You know what I mean.”
Then we dried off our water-logged bodies, donned crisp white robes and plopped down in lounge chairs to relax further.
A half a dozen other cruisers lay in other lounge chairs around us, and I closed my eyes to let the bird-chirping music mingle with thoughts of crazed killers and mob bosses.
Neither Grudion nor I had made much headway in piecing this all together. At least he wasn’t breathing down my soggy neck, although who knew, he could have been watching me at this very moment through a video camera hidden near the chirping bird speaker.
I started to doze off and then caught myself. I didn’t want to do the Jacobson mental reset today. I had to keep whatever wits I had about me for this evening.
“There it is,” a woman’s voice shouted.
My eyes popped open.
Two chairs away, a middle-aged white-robed woman with wet hair pointed toward the ocean.
“What’s there?” I asked.
“I saw a whale.”
Now she had my attention. I squinted and watched the wake behind the ship, expecting Moby Dick to appear at any moment.
I saw an object and my heart started beating faster. Could that be my whale?
Then I looked closer and saw that it was a large log.
“At least it’s a good thing our ship didn’t hit that.”
I kept peering out the window, but no whales appeared.
Finally, Marion tapped me on the shoulder and indicated it was time for us to go tempt the bingo gods.
Chapter 20
When we arrived at the theater, the teeming mob was already assembled. We purchased our cards and selected a spot with no Oldsters from Reno in the vicinity. I ordered a virgin tropical drink, but Marion didn’t want anything since she felt it would interfere with her focus on bingo.
After the first two games, in which I only had two in a row by the time someone yelled bingo, I said to Marion, “There should be a consolation prize for the poor dumb fart who has the fewest spaces covered. I’d win that for sure.”
Marion smiled. “I know. Whales, slot machines and bingo haven’t been kind to you.”
“Those and murderers, kidnappers and Latvian crime bosses.”
We continued playing and on one card I even had three in a row before someone yelled bingo. In the next game my luck remained the same, but Marion began covering spaces like mad.
“Look at this, Paul. I have four in a row already.”
“B14,” came the next call.
“Bingo!” Marion shouted, standing up.
Bingo echoed through the theater. I noticed that another woman had stood up.
“Both of you come forward.” The MC beckoned.
Marion trotted to the stage to be joined by the other woman. The announcer checked their cards, then handed each of them a sheet of paper. Marion and the other woman hugged each other and then stepped to the side of the stage. They appeared to be talking together and laughing. This continued for some time. They hugged again and, shortly, Marion returned.
“Looks like you made a new friend.”
“Yes. She looked familiar. Then I noticed her shirt. It said, ‘Oldsters from Reno.’”
“Uh-oh. My nemesis group.”
“Now, now. Betty is very nice.”
“But there’s that one guy, Julian Armour, whom I don’t get along with.”
“Betty will smooth things over. She’s Julian’s wife.”
I shook my head. “Consorting with the enemy.”
“We have a lot in common—slot machines, bingo and ornery husbands.”
“You gambling women. Do you belong to a cabal or something?”
“Just doing my part to provide financing for the family.”
“You’re doing a hell of a lot more than I am.”
“Don’t forget. You earned the free cruise to begin with.”
“That’s true. Unlucky at gambling and whales but lucky with murders and at love.”
She rubbed her hands together. “Now we have more bingo to play.”
Marion didn’t win again, but she came close once. I, on the other hand, maintained my streak and never covered more than three in a row before some klutz jumped up and did a bingo dance.
“So how much did you win?” I asked after the bingo mania wrapped up.
“Two-hundred-fifty dollars.”
“Not bad for a morning’s work.”
“They deduct it from our bill when we settle up at the end of the cruise.”
“Since our cruise is free, maybe we’ll actually get money back.”
“I don’t know. Given all those tropical drinks you’ve consumed, it may only cover your bar bill.”
“I’m the last of the big drinkers. Speaking of which, I better visit the little sailors’ room.”
When I rejoined Marion, I said, “Between the casino and bingo, you’ve done pretty well.”
“Yes. I figure I’m at least five hundred dollars ahead.”
I whistled. “We better move to Reno. You and Betty can collaborate.”
“I’m perfectly happy living in Venice Beach with you, thank you.”
“That’s good. I’m not ready to relocate.”
* * * * *
After lunch we headed to the Caribbean Lounge for the talent show. Marion knew her way around this ship like an old pro, so she led me to exactly the right spot. Then she insisted that we sit in the front row to have a good view of the proceedings. I immediately noticed a big group of the Oldsters from Reno on the other side of the front row. Marion waved to Betty, and I slunk down in my seat, not wanting to deal with Julian. The waitress came by and I ordered a non-alcoholic tropical drink and Marion asked for a Coke.
After our drinks were delivered and I had signed for them, I removed the paper parasol and extracted a piece of pineapple on a plas
tic spear. I was making sure to have lots of fruit on this cruise.
The MC grabbed the microphone and announced that there were eight finalists who would be judged by a distinguished panel including himself, the cruise director, the captain and one celebrity guest who I had never heard of. The winner would receive a two-thousand-dollar coupon for a future Scandinavian Sea Lines cruise.
“Big bucks are at play here,” I said.
“I should have entered you. You could have recounted stories of murder and mayhem.”
“Except no one would believe me.”
The first routine was a big guy decked out in a grass skirt. The MC announced that he would be performing a Hawaiian war chant.
Marion leaned toward me. “That’s Kimo. We met him in the spa earlier in the trip.”
“If you say so.”
His deep voice boomed out with a cross between singing and yodeling. If I had been his enemy, I’d have been cowed.
Everyone clapped. He bowed and strode back to sit down.
Next on the agenda was a plump young woman in her fifties who sang from the musical Oklahoma about being a girl who couldn’t say no. I imagined her serenading a plate piled high with steak, lobster, potatoes and cake and then diving in to prove the message of her song.
At the conclusion of her number, she bowed and a rotund guy in the back, wearing a bright Hawaiian shirt that didn’t quite cover his stomach, whooped and clapped. I pictured the two of them decimating the ship’s larder.
Next a comedian entertained us with stories of his vacation adventures. He hadn’t faced dead bodies, but every other imaginable fate befell him including capsizing a sailboat, slipping into a river infested with piranha, being chased by an angry bear (I could identify with that) and being dinner for the world’s largest mosquitoes.
Then a young girl twirled and pirouetted, demonstrating that her parents had spent a fortune on ballet lessons.
By now my tropical drink had run through my system, and I was contemplating a quick pit stop. I thought I’d try to gut it out for one more number.
The MC announced the next contenders would be Julian and Betty Armour from Reno. The Oldsters from Reno all stood and shouted as Julian and Betty came to the front of the room. They launched into a George Burns and Gracie Allen routine replete with Julian holding an unlit cigar.
They were pretty good, but all of a sudden I knew I had to visit the restroom. I stood up and darted to the side aisle.
My foot caught a cord. There was a shrieking wail followed by a spluttering noise, and the sound system went out.
I looked back in dismay but raced up the aisle to save myself from further embarrassment.
Later when I slunk back in, a man and woman in western attire were singing a Roy Rogers and Dale Evans song.
The show wrapped up, and the judges put their heads together. The MC then jogged to the front of the room.
“We want to thank this wonderful group of performers. All deserve to be winners and are winners in our opinion. After much deliberation from the judges, we have selected a performer for the prize. Arlene Beaupres from Minneapolis.”
Everyone clapped and the girl who couldn’t say no came forward to say yes to the award. I was sure that she and her hubby were ready to eat their way through another cruise.
I stood up to leave, and suddenly Julian Armour appeared and thrust his chin inches from mine. “You . . .you . . . ruined our chances. We would have won if you hadn’t interrupted our performance.”
I put my hands up. “Whoa, just a minute, Julian. It was an accident. I apologize for tripping over the cord.”
His face turned red, and I expected to see steam come out of his ears. “It was no accident. You did it on purpose.”
Marion stepped in. “I know you’re upset, Julian, but Paul didn’t mean to hurt you or your performance. And I thought you and Betty did a marvelous job.”
Julian’s shoulders slumped like someone had let the air out of a balloon. He shook his head as though trying to rid himself of some alien flies buzzing around and stalked away.
“That’s one more reason that I need you, Marion. You’re much more diplomatic than I am.”
She regarded me thoughtfully. “Yes. We make a good team. You attract trouble, and I try to smooth things out.”
I opened my mouth to say something, but no words emerged.
Marion patted my arm. “You’re a good man, Paul Jacobson, but you do have an uncanny knack for getting yourself in predicaments.”
I sighed. “Yes, I do. So thank you for sticking with me.”
“I’m here for you to see things through.”
“However long I last, which won’t be much longer if I don’t find a way to avoid crime lords and murderers.”
“And irate would-be entertainers.”
“I don’t suppose Julian will ever look on me in a kindly light after all the encounters we’ve had.”
“You never know. I’ll talk to Betty behind the scenes.”
“What a woman you are. Protecting me from myself.”
“Now I have a task for you.”
“Uh-oh. Sounds like payback time.”
“Definitely. You’re coming with me to the photo gallery so we can find some pictures of us to give to your family and mine.”
“Sounds harmless enough.”
“I don’t know, Paul. With you, any outing can turn into an unexpected endangerment.”
“I promise to behave myself.”
“Just don’t argue with the cashier.”
We made our way to the photo shop and perused hundreds of pictures.
“How can anyone find anything here?” I asked.
“Keep looking. We’ll find a number of pictures of us.”
And Marion was correct as usual. She picked out a photo of us embarking and another taken at a dinner.
Then I found one and held it up—we stood next to a guy in a polar bear costume who was wearing tennis shoes. “Look at this.”
“That was taken when we disembarked in Ketchikan.”
“Before my wild zodiac ride.”
“And before I started feeling sick.”
“Seems like a week ago, but it was only yesterday. For a change I can remember it.”
Marion leaned against me. “Due of course to the fact that you’re a passionate lover.”
“Me? It was all your fault. You know I can’t keep my hands off you.”
“Well, I hope not.”
We returned to our room and sat out on the balcony to watch as we entered the port of Victoria. What would be in store for me there? Would I figure out this crazy puzzle of kidnappers, murderers and assorted undesirables? Would I find some resolution amid the rose gardens of Butchart Gardens?
All that could wait. First, I had to pee.
Chapter 21
“We need to pack, Paul.”
“Now?”
“Yes. The instructions are that we need to leave our luggage outside our room. The staff will remove it tonight and have it dockside in Seattle for us in the morning.”
“I guess that’s better than schlepping all the stuff off with us.”
“I have a carry-on bag for our personal articles. Set aside a change of clothes for the morning as well.”
“Yes, ma’am.”
While sorting my few remaining clean clothes from the pile of dirty ones, I noticed my hand trembling. It wasn’t old age. It was a feeling of foreboding about the upcoming debarkation in Victoria. I had to be on my toes and observant to see if I could fathom exactly what had transpired with this sequence of shipboard crimes. I wouldn’t welcome seeing Karlis Zarins if he showed up again. And who had murdered Inese and done away with Ellen Hargrave? Erik and Gary were my two front-running candidates for Inese’s murder, but Erik didn’t have anything to do with Ellen. Gary and Gina had a motive for killing Ellen and Inese if they thought, incorrectly, that Inese was Ellen’s long-lost niece. I was getting close but still no cigar. And that damn Julian Armour. He
and I hit it off like oil and water. On top of all the earlier run-ins, I had disrupted his talent show number. I could spend the whole rest of my life, however short, apologizing to him about my misdeeds for all the good it would do.
Well, I would finish packing and then see what was in store for me in Victoria.
After putting our luggage outside the room, we gathered jackets and Marion’s camera for our shore excursion and then waited in line to disembark.
“Our last shore excursion,” Marion said with a sigh.
We marched down the gangway with the mob of hyper tourists ready to invade Victoria.
“Where to now?” I asked Marion.
She extracted two tickets from her purse and handed them to me. I read the print, which informed me that our meeting point was the parking lot at the end of the pier.
“I assume this means the land end and not the water end of the pier.” I looked at my watch. “Right on schedule. We’re supposed to gather there in ten minutes.”
We strolled along the length of the pier, found the parking lot and then had to figure out which of the twenty or so buses was our magic chariot.
I showed the tickets to a cheerful attendant standing near the curb, and she directed us to the sixth bus in the row.
We clambered aboard and selected seats together near the back of the bus. I looked out the window at the people filing into buses. From my window I could see across the parking lot. A large black limousine waited there.
“Shoot. Too bad that limo isn’t for us.” I looked at it again. The windows were darkly tinted so no one could see inside.
Other people entered our bus.
“There are Gary and Gina Hargrave,” Marion said.
I watched as the man and woman Marion had pointed to selected seats in the middle of the bus. Interesting that with their aunt missing, they were still going on an excursion.
“Uh-oh,” I said. “The suspects have arrived.”
“They’re just on a tour like we are.”
Then a noisy bunch entered the bus, and I spotted a T-shirt that said Oldsters from Reno.
