I don’t think we had been sitting there more than ten or fifteen minutes when Mrs. Winchester’s chin dropped down on her chest. I sure hoped she wouldn’t fall fast asleep, because her snoring could wake the dead.
Well, the show started with a bang, but Mrs. Winchester slept right through it. They brought on the first act, a row of skimpily clad women in a chorus line, singing and kicking up their legs. I tell you, none of them had the figure to be showing so much skin. They’d of looked a lot better in muumuus.
Mrs. Winchester was leaning forward and would have fallen out of her seat if I hadn’t caught her and pushed her back. I decided that it would be better if she leaned against me, but at about that time she roused up and looked all around, probably wondering where she was. “The show’s started,” I told her.
The second performer was a man who impersonated the singing of Elvis, Neil Diamond, Andy Williams, and a few other crooners. He was good and sang songs I was familiar with. The crowd was mostly senior citizens, so they liked him too.
Mrs. Winchester was looking for a waiter to bring her another drink. Oh no, not another one! The waiter didn’t see her and left before she could get his attention. I breathed a sigh of relief. Given more time, maybe later she’d be in better shape for me to get her back to the penthouse.
After the impersonator finished, Katarina Zigova, a gypsy girl, came on, dancing barefooted and shaking a tambourine. Dressed in a skirt that reached the floor and wearing a dark red blouse with baubles around her neck and bangles jangling on her arms and ankles, she danced down off the stage, whirled around on the floor, singing and flouncing her long shiny hair to wild applause, hand clapping, and whistling.
There was no doubt in my mind that she was a real gypsy. Gypsies used to come through Live Oaks and camp out at the clay pit. They would steal chickens and clothes left overnight on a clothesline. Everybody locked their doors when the gypsies were in town, and children were warned not to go outside because gypsies would steal them. Even so, we kids used to sneak out near the clay pit and lie in the tall grass to watch what they were doing around their campfire and to hear them making music.
Sometimes, during the day, a gypsy man would go around to the farms and shoe horses. Another one was a tinker who would repair holes in kitchen pots.
One day a gypsy woman came in the variety store where Beatrice and I worked. Beatrice was trembling from head to foot, so I waited on the woman. She bought the brightest-colored rayon and broadcloth piece goods we had, as well as needles and thread, some grosgrain ribbon and buttons.
Another time one of the gypsy children got sick and had to go to the hospital. The whole tribe descended on the hospital and would not leave until the child was discharged.
The only time they bothered me was one night when they put a dent in a door of my Chevy. I didn’t hear them until it was too late, but I saw them running away. The next morning here come two gypsy men offering to fix that dent for cheap, but I didn’t fall for that. I gave them a Gospel of John and told them they needed to get right with the Lord.
When Katarina finished her act and went backstage, I saw the steward again making the rounds with drinks, so I decided I better try to get Mrs. Winchester upstairs before she could get another drink. I stood up. “It’s time to go,” I said firmly.
“Oh?”
I took her arm and helped her out of the chair. Far from steady on her feet, she leaned against me, and I’ll tell you, she felt like a bale of cotton. Lionel came to my rescue—took her other arm and had her lean on him. Over his shoulder, he told Miss Peterson, “Wait for me, Mildred, I’ll be right back.”
We made it out of the theater and to the elevator okay. Lionel held up Mrs. Winchester while I punched the button. Zooming upward, we didn’t have to stop for people getting on and off, so we went straight up to the navigation deck. I got out the key and unlocked the door, and together we got Mrs. Winchester to the bed. I pulled down the spread before we rolled her onto the middle of the bed. I thanked Lionel and saw him to the door. I also thanked the Lord, who must have been looking out for me when Lionel came to help.
I removed Mrs. Winchester’s sunglasses, hat, and shoes, but I didn’t try to undress her. I straightened that beautiful mauve gown as best I could, hoping it wouldn’t get too wrinkled, and pulled the spread up over her. She was mumbling about something, but she was half asleep. Once she was dead to the world maybe she would sleep it off before morning.
I went in my room, undressed, and took a bath. Later, as I was getting ready for bed, I could hear her snoring loud as a foghorn. This had been the worst day I had spent with Mrs. Winchester, and it looked like I was not making any headway with helping her. I had a lot to pray about, so I read a while and also poured out my heart to the Lord.
I don’t know how long I prayed, but before I settled in for the night, I looked in on her to make sure she was all right. She hadn’t moved an inch, and judging by the way she was snoring, I’d have to put a pillow over my head if I expected to get any sleep myself.
I fell sound asleep. Then—it must have been the middle of the night—the bed started rocking. I woke up and lay there wondering what was going on. Whatever it was, I hoped it wouldn’t wake up Mrs. Winchester. I listened, and her snoring was keeping time like a buzz saw. The rocking motion went on for some time, and I kept listening to hear if something would fall off a shelf or something, but nothing did. I was tired and figured it was nothing to worry about. I turned over and went back to sleep.
The next morning at breakfast, everybody was talking about the rough sailing. Some of the passengers had got sick from it, but Mrs. Winchester and I had no complaints. An officer told us we traveled rough seas when we were crossing ocean water, but now the ship was back in the Inside Passage and there would be no more of that.
We traveled all day on the Inside Passage, and the scenery was like one calendar picture after another. To avoid the crowds on deck, Mrs. Winchester and I went up to the Crow’s Nest, which was a bar that was almost deserted during the morning hours. As we glided along we passed forests that reached down to the water’s edge with waterfalls a mile high and with eagles in treetops or soaring high in the sky. From where we were seated, the fishing boats on their way to the sea or anchored in the channel looked like chips floating in the water. Prettiest of all were the snow-capped mountains with the morning sun shining on their slopes. Traveling this way was like watching a moving picture changing from one scene to another. I kept looking, hoping to see wildlife, but without binoculars I didn’t spot any.
Lo and behold, about lunchtime, Mrs. Bailey found us. “Oh, there you are!” she said and sat down beside Mrs. Winchester. “I’ve been looking for you! This is a wonderful view. It’s lovely from up here.”
“We were just leaving,” Mrs. Winchester said and got up.
With that we took the elevator down to the main dining room, the Rotterdam. “Do you think she’ll follow us?” I asked.
“If she does, we’ll lose her—we’ll go up to the penthouse and order lunch.”
That Rotterdam Restaurant was like nothing I had ever seen before. Everything looked so expensive—the linens, the delicate stemware, and the china. No one came in that we knew except Mildred Peterson, and since it didn’t look like Mrs. Bailey was following us, we sat down.
Seeing us, Miss Peterson came over, and I asked her to join us. I tell you, she had stars in her eyes! She was so excited she lit right into telling us. “I’ve decided to go with Lionel tomorrow on that backcountry trip. He seems to be such a nice man.”
The way she said it, I think she wanted our approval, but neither of us said anything.
“I didn’t say I’d go right away, but last night we had such a good time, I decided to go.”
“You went dancing?”
“Oh yes, but that’s not all. Last night, Lionel took me backstage to meet Katarina Zigova, the gypsy, and guess what? She asked me if I would like to have a personal consultation! Of course, I jumped at
the chance, and she asked me to meet her backstage this afternoon at 2:00.”
“What for?” I asked.
“I don’t know yet. Maybe she’ll read my palm, tell my fortune. I can’t wait!”
I didn’t say anything, but I figured that gypsy knew a sucker when she saw one.
After our soup and salad, Mrs. Winchester wanted to go up to the penthouse. “I’ve called for a hairdresser and manicurist,” she told me. “After that a masseuse is coming to give me a massage. I’ll be busy all afternoon, so feel free.”
I decided to sit by the pool a while. I saw that foulmouthed woman with some other women walking toward me. They were all looking amused. “Hi,” she said. “We just heard about Mrs. Winchuster drinking brandy and smoking a cigar with the men. Is it true?”
“Where’d you hear that?” I asked.
“Mrs. Bailey. Mrs. Bailey told us.”
“Excuse me,” I said and got up. I left them laughing.
After that I ducked in one of those duty-free shops and lost them. I didn’t buy anything except some cards. Then I saw that a movie was about to begin, so I went to the theater.
It was just what I needed. The movie was a Debbie Reynolds film, and it was funny—I got some good laughs.
After the movie, I still had time to kill before I had to get ready for dinner. I went in the library to write my cards. I had picked the one with a picture of the ship for Beatrice because she and Carl would both like that one. The other card had a picture of the captain and officers in their sharp-looking uniforms, and I knew the Priscilla Home girls would get a kick out of that one.
That done, I started back to the penthouse. While I was waiting for the elevator, I heard someone calling me. “Miss Esmeralda! Wait up!”
It was Miss Peterson. She was all bubbly. “Oh, you won’t believe what Katarina gave me!”
“Gave you?”
“Well, I paid her for it. But it’s worth more than the seventy-five dollars she charged.” The elevator arrived. “Let’s go up to the Skyroom. I doubt that there are many people there now. What I have to tell you is not for anyone else’s ears.”
The elevator carried us to the Sports Deck, and we walked to the Skyroom. We had our choice of seats.
“First, let me tell you how amazing Katarina is. She knew all about me—knew I lived with my parents in Milwaukee, that I love to read and travel. Said my career had something to do with books. She knew I was single, but she said that will change soon.”
“Really? How does she know that?”
“Oh, I hope you won’t think I’m silly.” Fumbling in her purse, she took out a slip of paper. “I wrote it down. It’s a love potion, Miss Esmeralda. She gave me a love potion.”
“A love potion?”
“Yes. Listen to this: ‘In a bottle of water from a running spring, place three hairs from the tail of a red mare, stir with the feather from a bluebird’s wing, seal the bottle, and place it in the fork of a tree when the moon is on the rise, and soon your lover will find you.’ Oh, Miss Esmeralda, I know it’s probably foolish of me to think this can work, but what have I to lose?”
That’s about the silliest thing I ever heard of. Where’s she going to find a running spring in Milwaukee, much less a red mare? Well, I won’t rain on her parade.
“Oh, but one thing more,” she said. “Katarina warned me that Mrs. Winchuster is in grave danger.”
“What?”
“Just that. That Mrs. Winchuster is in grave danger. She didn’t say what it was—maybe it’s because she drinks so much. Who knows. Maybe you shouldn’t tell her. There might be nothing to it.”
I didn’t know what to think. Maybe I should let it pass. On the other hand, if Katarina knew something we didn’t, I needed to find out what it was.
25
I kept thinking about what the gypsy told Mildred about Mrs. Winchester being in danger. I did not have the slightest faith in any of that crystal ball, hocus-pocus stuff, but what if Katarina had overhead something, or saw something we weren’t aware of?
Should I tell Mrs. Winchester?
I was looking in the closet for something to wear and decided on my navy suit. Wearing that apron full of jewels around my waist, I was more comfortable in the suit; the jacket was loose and even hid my bay window. I would save the blue dress for the night we were to eat at the captain’s table. I swept up my hair in that French twist that Bud liked, wore the silver earrings he gave me, and said to myself, “They can like it or not; this is me.”
Mrs. Winchester came out of her room wearing a soft leather jacket and pants. Large as she was, I was surprised that she would wear pants. “You look great!” I told her.
“Oh, this? Well, I do like it.” She held out her arm so I could feel the leather of the sleeve. “They wash this Italian leather to make it soft,” she said.
“That crewneck looks soft too.”
“It is. It’s silk and cashmere. I think the pants are brushed cotton, something like that.”
“Mrs. Winchester—”
“For heavens sake, when are you going to stop calling me Mrs. Winchester? I really wish you would call me Winnie.”
“No, that wouldn’t be right. I’m your hired companion.”
“Tommyrot!”
“Well, maybe I’ll think about it… Now I have something to say. I hope you won’t mind my saying it.”
“Say whatever you like.”
“It’s about last night. You really went overboard.” She laughed. “If you hadn’t taken care of me I might have done just that—fallen overboard.”
“Well, I hope tonight you’ll not put us through what we went through last night.”
“Okay,” she said. “But it was fun, wasn’t it?”
“Maybe for you, but not for me.”
“Esmeralda, set your mind at ease. I have already decided to skip cocktails before dinner; there’s plenty of wine served at dinner to satisfy me. I’ll be good. Let’s go.”
“Mrs. Winchester, do we have to sit at the table with the Baileys?”
“Oh, I wouldn’t miss it for the world. I can’t wait to see if she keeps her mouth shut. Besides, if he shows off again tonight, ordering wine that’s not on the list, I’m going to give him tit for tat.”
No one was on the elevator when we were riding down, so she asked me, “Did you happen to hear anyone talking about me today?”
“Yes, I did. That foulmouthed woman and her friends asked me if you smoked a cigar and drank brandy with the men.”
“Good. I don’t suppose it made the papers, but tomorrow when we go ashore, we’ll find a newspaper and see.”
Alphonso Pasquali, the Baileys, Lionel, and Mildred were already seated at our table when we arrived. I had too much on my mind to pay much attention to any of them. If what the gypsy said was true and Mrs. Winchester was in danger, it would be up to me to try and protect her.
I heard enough of the table conversation to know it was all about politics and the world situation. Raymond Bailey had made himself the star of that show, and Mrs. Bailey couldn’t get a word in edgewise.
I ignored them and concentrated on the danger we might be in. There might be no truth in what Katarina had said. It could be nothing but a ruse to make Mrs. Winchester curious enough to pay big bucks for gypsy flapdoodle.
On the other hand, my being pinned to the wall by that guy in Salt Lake City, the Winchesters’ safe being stolen out of the lodge, and our suspicion that we might have been followed—well, there was good reason to think we were in danger.
Since we would be going into Ketchikan the next morning, I knew I must see Katarina that night and find out what, if anything, she knew.
After my herring appetizer I concentrated on eating the lobster I had ordered. I had always wanted to find out what lobster tasted like, since everybody raved about it being so great, but it cost more than I’d ever pay myself. Since I wasn’t paying, I took a chance and ordered it, knowing I might make a fool of myself trying to eat it, crackin
g that shell and digging out the meat.
Fortunately for me, the lobster was served with the shell cracked open and the buttered meat in pieces, making it a breeze to eat. One taste and I was hooked for life!
By the time I had finished eating it, everyone was through and waiting for dessert. I ordered a peach sundae. Well, the desserts came, but, wouldn’t you know it, Raymond tells the waiter to bring us all something not on the menu—cherries jubilee!
I had finished my sundae when the cherries jubilee arrived, brought in with a lot of hoopla, the dish in flames and creating quite a stir among the diners.
Mrs. Winchester had said that if he ordered something not on the menu, she was going to give him tit for tat. Well, nothing happened.
Once we were done with the cherries jubilee, we left the table and headed for the theater.
With ringside seats and Mrs. Winchester not so soused as to embarrass me, I looked forward to the show. Katarina Zigova was on the bill but not the first entertainer. The first was a magician with a shapely female assistant. Billed as an “illusionist,” he caused the woman to float in the air. After that, he cut her in half. Then he shut her in a box and pushed swords through the box at different angles, only to have her step out totally unharmed. Those were tricks I had seen on TV, but frankly, I don’t care for magic.
I was anxious for Katarina’s act. Maybe there’d be some way I could get her attention and arrange to see her later. I had to get to the bottom of that warning.
The next entertainer was a comedian who sang as well as cracked jokes. He reminded me of Victor Borge. He would sing something pretty, get a body listening, then stop and say funny things.
During his act I was thinking that maybe if Katarina got offstage and danced near us, I could get her attention—pass her a note or something.
At long last, the band gave a big fanfare. Katarina came onstage, playing her violin fast and furious.
“She’s playing ‘Flight of the Bumblebee,’” Mrs. Winchester told me.
Land Sakes Page 16
