Land Sakes

by Margaret A. Graham

  That was exactly what it sounded like. I loved it! I could just hear bumblebees busy about my hollyhocks then streaming back to their hive.

  Katarina brought down the house with every number she played. Along with the music, she danced, but not offstage where I might get her attention.

  Maybe after this was over, I could get Mrs. Winchester back to the penthouse right away, then make some excuse to come back down here and catch Katarina in her dressing room.

  26

  We got up to leave the theater, and I purposely left my glasses on my chair so I’d have an excuse for coming back down there. Lionel tapped me on the shoulder, and I was afraid he was going to hand me my glasses. Instead he whispered, “Need any help?”

  I thanked him but said I could manage.

  Mrs. Winchester was really in good shape. We got on a crowded elevator and there were stops on the way up, but I heard not a peep out of her.

  We were hardly inside the penthouse when she said, “Now, Esmeralda, you saw what Bailey did tonight ordering cherries jubilee, which was not on the menu. Now, I want you to be thinking about what we can order tomorrow night that will top anything he can imagine. Let’s try to think of something that will stump even the chef!”

  So anxious to get back down to the theater, I was hardly listening. “Okay,” I said, “but right now I need to go back downstairs. I’ve left my glasses somewhere.”

  I got out of there as fast as I could. As I waited for the elevator I prayed I wouldn’t have any trouble finding Katarina.

  The maintenance people were already in the theater cleaning. I hurried to my seat to pick up my glasses. Lo and behold, they weren’t there! I looked all over. Finally, I went over to one of the cleaning men. “I left—”

  “You looking for your glasses?”

  “Yes. I was sitting right there.” I pointed.

  “I turned them in to the purser.”

  “Where’s he?”

  “His office is just beyond the front office on the right.”

  I ran out of the theater and hotfooted it down to that purser’s office. He handed me my glasses, and I asked him, “May I go backstage? I need to see Katarina Zigova.”

  “I’m sorry. Backstage is off-limits to guests.”

  “You must be mistaken. Last night two people at my table, Lionel Listrom and Mildred Peterson, went backstage.”

  I don’t think he heard me. “Perhaps you would like to leave a note for Miss Zigova asking for an appointment?”

  “No, I need to see her right now!”

  “Well, I am sorry, madam.” He was about to turn away and then must have had second thoughts. “Tell me, madam, aren’t you a member of the Winchuster party?”

  “That’s correct.”

  He pondered that for a minute. “Perhaps something can be arranged. Miss Zigova will be performing in the Crow’s Nest at midnight this evening.”

  I couldn’t wait that long. “No,” I said. “I need to see her right away.”

  “It’s that urgent?” He looked off across the deck like he was thinking. Then he began writing a number on a piece of paper. “Madam, this is highly irregular, but under the circumstances, I am going to allow you to go to Miss Zigova’s room. If she is not there, you will have to wait and see her in the Crow’s Nest. Go down to the Dolphin Deck. This is the number of her room.”

  I thanked him and ran to the elevator and waited impatiently. As soon as it arrived and emptied, I jumped on and punched the button for the Dolphin Deck.

  Finding the room was easy. I hesitated at the door and listened. I could hear voices. I prayed Katarina would let me talk to her, and then knocked.

  Almost immediately the door was flung open. It was Lionel!

  His mouth dropped open. “Miss Esmeralda!” He was in his undershirt and had a razor in his hand; he’d been shaving.

  I glimpsed Katarina on her way to the door. “Who is it?”

  Lionel was so bamboozled he couldn’t answer.

  She opened the door wider. “Oh, I thought it was the steward.” She looked at him, her eyes flashing.

  Finally, he mumbled, “It’s Miss Esmeralda.”

  “Oh.” Her eyes softened. “I’ve been expecting you,” she said. “Mrs. Winchuster sent you?”

  “No. Mrs. Winchester knows nothing about this.”

  “Please, come in,” she said.

  Katarina led me to a couch, where I sat down across from her. Lionel went back to the bathroom.

  “My brother,” she explained.

  Brother, husband, lover, I didn’t care. Whoever he was, it didn’t take a rocket scientist to figure out he was her partner in her psychic schemes. There was no doubt in my mind that he was the one who supplied Katarina with all those personal details about Mildred Peterson.

  “Miss Esmeralda,” she was saying, “you are a most resourceful, persuasive person.”

  “I did not come here for myself.”

  “I know, but no one, absolutely no one, is allowed to visit ship personnel in our quarters. I can understand your desperation. Mrs. Winchuster is in grave danger.”

  “How do you know that?”

  “Oy!” she cried. “We dare not speak of it.”

  “Did you see something—hear something?”

  “Oh yes! Oh yes!”

  “Then tell me.”

  “I dare not. My knowledge is only for Mrs. Winchuster’s ears.”

  I didn’t know what to think. If this was only a ruse to get at Mrs. Winchester and her money, I might as well leave.

  Lionel walked in the room fully dressed. He and Katarina started talking in a foreign language. She jumped up from the couch, furious—beating on his chest with both fists, following him around the room, and screaming. He stopped, grabbed both her wrists, and got right up in her face. “Katarina!” She hesitated, and he lit into her, yelling rapidly in that foreign tongue. He kept on and on, his voice getting lower. Finally, when she seemed to be hearing what he said, he let her go.

  He stopped talking and turned to me. He sat down while she stood, arms folded and her dark face unsmiling.

  “Miss Esmeralda,” he began, “forgive me for speaking in our Romani tongue, but there was something I had to explain to Katarina. I suppose you understand that Katarina expected to engage Mrs. Winchuster in some profitable magic arts in exchange for what we know.”

  He took a deep breath. “We gypsies have a difficult life, Miss Esmeralda. Some say we are the lost ten tribes of Israel. If that is so, perhaps that is why our people have been hounded, jailed, beaten, and murdered all over Europe. We are a different people who hold to our traditions any way we can. If you were one of us, you would understand. But you are not one of us. I am fond of you, Miss Esmeralda. You are a good woman, an honest woman who cannot understand why we must live by our wits. Yet I beg of you, forgive us our ways and means of making a living.”

  He sighed again. “Miss Esmeralda, the only way I can give you the information you are looking for is by making a deal with you.”

  “A deal?”

  “Yes. Our livelihood depends on our keeping this work on cruise ships. Miss Esmeralda, if you will promise not to give us away, to tell absolutely no one from the captain on down, I will tell you all that we know.”

  “What about Mildred? It wouldn’t be fair of me to know the truth about you and not tell her.”

  “There will be no need to tell her. What is done is done. It will not happen again. Katarina will not charge Mildred for any further services, and I will see that Mildred enjoys herself for the remainder of the cruise. Is it a deal?”

  “How can I believe you’ll keep your word if you are in the business of deceiving people?”

  “It is the chance you will have to take if you want to know what we know.”

  I didn’t know what to do. Then I got an idea. “All right. I’ll promise on one condition. I am going to keep in close contact with Mildred Peterson. I will make it my business to find out if you continue to dupe her for mone
y. If you do, I’m going straight to the captain and tell him how you have defrauded her.”

  “All right. It’s a deal.”

  “Now tell me, what is it you know?”

  He stood up and paced the floor. “The man at our table pretending to be an Indian is not an Indian. He says he trained helicopter pilots, but that too may be false. Everything about him is as phony as the magic you saw tonight. He might be Italian. If so, I might add that he is a stupid man to use his real name, Alphonso Pasquali. I don’t know what his game is, but whatever it is, there is no doubt in my mind but that Mrs. Winchuster will be his victim. She is the wealthiest passenger on this ship; why would he target anyone else? He may be a jewel thief. Whatever jewels Mrs. Winchuster has should be secured in the purser’s safe.”

  “Is that it?”

  “That is all, but Miss Esmeralda, beware of him. Katarina was not lying when she said Mrs. Winchuster is in grave danger. She and I are keenly sensitive to clues that betray the motives of men who design evil. A disguise is a telltale clue. By choosing to sit at our table where he can observe what you and Mrs. Winchuster say, he can learn your plans and make his plans accordingly.”

  “It’s strange that we never see him except at the table.”

  “He claims he plays poker all day. There is no telling what he’s doing—what he’s up to. Tomorrow, when you go into Ketchikan, be sure Mrs. Winchuster’s jewelry is secured.”

  “Thank you, Lionel. I had suspected Alphonso was not an Indian, but I was busy and didn’t give him much thought. Are you sure this is all you can tell me?”

  “Yes, but take this warning seriously. That man is a thief or worse, so beware of him.”

  “Thank you. I better go now. Mrs. Winchester expected me back right away.”

  He walked me to the door. “Thank you,” I said again and left him to Katarina.

  As I went up the elevator, I thought about all Lionel had told me. Jewelry thief! What if that man knows I am wearing half a million dollars’ worth of jewels around my waist?

  27

  The next morning we took the tender, the small boat that went from the ship to shore, to Ketchikan and boarded the bus for the Native American Village. I had never heard of the Tlingit Indians, but that’s not surprising; the only Indians in my neck of the woods were the Cherokee. The guide said that Tlingit means “thundering wings of an eagle.” I’d been seeing eagles flying now and again, but, land sakes, I hadn’t heard them making a sound, certainly nothing like thunder.

  As we were gawking at all the totem poles, I wondered what they were all about. The guide explained that the Tlingits did not have a written language, and that’s why they carved totem poles. By what was carved on the poles they could tell stories of their past to their children. As we watched, two men were chopping out another totem from a cedar log. An old man had a carving knife and was carving the details and smoothing the faces of the figures.

  Mrs. Winchester said her feet were bothering her, so I suggested we go in this big lodge where we could sit down on benches and hear all about the Indian culture. People drifted in, and in a few minutes the guide began talking. He told us there were two tribes of Tlingits, the Eagles and the Ravens, and that the only way they could have a good life was by going through all this rigmarole to live in harmony with each other. “Ha!” I said. “The UN should take a tip from the Tlingits!”

  When we came out, Mrs. Winchester remarked, “I don’t think there’ll ever be peace in the world, do you?”

  “Yes, I do. When Jesus comes, there’ll be peace.”

  “I thought he had already come.”

  “He has, but he’s coming again.”

  “Oh.”

  I guess we moseyed around more than an hour, watching craftsmen doing wood carving, working with leather, making beaded bags and silver bracelets. I bought a souvenir for Priscilla Home—a seal carved from a kind of soil they have in Alaska.

  Once we were back in town, we walked along Canal Street, which had been the red light district before prostitution was outlawed, or so we were told. The boardwalk was damp and slippery, and I had to hold on to Mrs. Winchester to keep us from falling and maybe dumping both of us in the canal.

  Dolly’s House was where the most famous madam had run her business. Of course, I had never been in one of those houses and didn’t know what to expect, but I was surprised by all the fancy furnishings they had. It meant Dolly had made big bucks from the kind of sin carried on in her house.

  When we came out, I asked Mrs. Winchester, “Do you care that people call you madam?”

  “No. Do you?”

  “Yes, I do. To me, a madam is somebody runs a bawdy house. I am not, never have been, and never will be a madam.”

  She laughed. “Esmeralda, when somebody calls you madam, they don’t mean it that way. They mean it as a mark of respect.”

  “I know, but I’d sooner they use my own name.”

  “Isn’t it time for lunch?” she asked.

  “Yes. We can go back to the ship if you like.” That’s what I would have done, because, after all, our food was already paid for. But no, she wanted to find the best restaurant in town.

  I asked the same bus driver who brought us into town, and he recommended the Heen Kahidi Restaurant in the Cape Fox Lodge. He told us how to get there, and when I told Mrs. Winchester we’d have to take a tram up the hill to the lodge, she was tickled pink.

  Well, riding a tram was something I’d never done before, and I enjoyed it. The view from the tram of Ketchikan and the harbor was something I’d never forget.

  We were running late and must have missed the lunch crowd, because there were no other customers in the restaurant. That restaurant was Class A in my book. It had a pine-beamed ceiling and a river-rock fireplace as well as beautiful windows with views of the harbor. Our table was by a window.

  The menu listed all kinds of fancy seafood. I turned my glass upside down and waited while the waiter poured Mrs. Winchester’s wine.

  After we ordered and the waiter left, I whispered, “Are you going to be good today?”

  “Oh yes,” she said. “One glass of wine with my lunch and a drink or two later, that’s it.”

  In a few minutes we were served our salads. Believe it or not, Mrs. Winchester wanted me to ask the blessing.

  I did, but the moment I opened my eyes, I saw none other than Alphonso Pasquali with two other men being led to a table in a far corner. My heart started beating like a trip hammer. Had he followed us here? Are those his poker buddies? Does he know I’m wearing these jewels?

  “Isn’t that Alphonso?” Mrs. Winchester asked, then answered her own question. “Who else would be wearing a turban? He looks like a maharajah or something.”

  “Yes, it’s Alphonso Pasquali, all right.”

  Almost as soon as they sat down, Alphonso must have pointed out Mrs. Winchester, because both men turned around and looked our way, turned back around and nodded their heads. I did not like the looks of that!

  They made me so nervous. I wondered if Alphonso and those men had been anywhere around us when we were at the Indian village. I had been so caught up in all the things we were seeing there, it hadn’t crossed my mind to be on the lookout. Even so, that turban would have made him stand out in the crowd; I wouldn’t have missed him. I knew if he had followed us onto Canal Street I would have seen him, because there’s only a narrow boardwalk and few places to hide.

  Mrs. Winchester finished her salad then needed to go to the ladies’ room. I didn’t know if I should go with her or not. Since there were no other women in the restaurant, we would be in there all alone, unless a woman on staff was in the bathroom too. If the men knew I had the jewels on me, a ladies’ room would be an ideal place for them to jump me. I decided it was best to let Mrs. Winchester go by herself while I kept watching to see if any of them got up and left the table. I didn’t think they would jump her since I had the jewelry, but who knows what a criminal mind is thinking?

  M
rs. Winchester always takes her time in the bathroom, but that time I thought she’d never come out. I took a deep breath. It always helps my nerves to remember that Jesus said, “I am with you always.” And I know Splurgeon was right when he said, “The sheep are never so safe as when they are near the Shepherd.”

  By the time she came back, the waiter had removed our salad plates and was serving our lunch. Since we had been told that Ketchikan is the salmon capital of the world, I had picked salmon with chive sauce, braised cabbage, and corn crepes. I was so nervous I ate like I was starving. Knowing it wouldn’t be very long before supper, I should not have eaten so much, but I couldn’t help myself. Mrs. Winchester even ordered us a delicious little pastry for dessert, which I wolfed down.

  After we finished eating, my problem was deciding whether or not we should wait for those men to leave before we left. Mrs. Winchester and I planned to visit the fishery after lunch, but if I had my way, we would skip the fishery and take the next tender back to the ship. Of course, if I changed my mind and said I didn’t want to go, Mrs. Winchester might ask me why, and I sure didn’t want to explain.

  I decided we would sit there until Alphonso and his friends were gone. Then I’d give them enough time to take the tram down before we left. Mrs. Winchester had already signed the bill and was ready to go, but I wasn’t finished with my glass of sweet tea. To keep us sitting there, I started in talking. She loved my Live Oaks stories.

  I began telling her all about Maria, the woman with AIDS who I took into my home and nursed until she died. I started at the beginning, telling her about how Maria lived in a boxcar with her three children and how, when she was deathly sick and had no hospital insurance, I bluffed her way into the hospital by saying she was a celebrity, Carmen Miranda.

  It was a long story, and I dragged it out even longer; I thought those men would never leave. They had finished eating but were drinking coffee. They’re waiting for us to walk out of here and maybe jump us on that tram. The waiter kept refilling their cups. Once I saw Alphonso glance our way, and I did not like the looks of that.

  I kept on talking, adding on to that story, telling Mrs. Winchester everything I could think of.