Murder (and Baklava) (A European Voyage Cozy Mystery—Book 1)

by Blake Pierce

“I happen to know a few things about dogs,” he said. “And I can tell you for a fact—he wasn’t growling at you.” Peering closely at London, he added, “He was growling at her. Every time she bumped him around in that bag, he let out a growl. He doesn’t like being in there.”

  London didn’t know quite what to say in reply. She finished her greeting, and Cyrus Bannister headed up the gangway, followed by his luggage.

  As London got ready to greet the next passenger, she thought about the woman and her dog and how Mr. Bannister had just described her as “high maintenance.”

  Sounds about right, London thought. She hoped the maintenance was taken care of for now.

  But somewhere in her gut, she sensed that this wasn’t the end of complications involving Lillis Klimowski and Sir Reginald Taft.

  *

  London soon felt positively besieged.

  She kept smiling and repeating her greeting over and over again:

  “Welcome to Epoch World Cruise Lines’ first tour of the beautiful Danube.”

  But she often barely got the words out before a boarding passenger made some sort of request, complaint, or demand.

  “Your porter is getting our luggage mixed …”

  “I’ll need a folded international newspaper waiting outside my stateroom door every morning promptly before …”

  “I’ll need coffee delivered at …”

  “I’ll need brandy delivered at …”

  “I’ll need …”

  The demands came in a seemingly endless litany. It didn’t help that most of the one hundred passengers booked for this tour had shown up as soon as boarding had opened. Things might have been easier for London if they’d straggled in at various times during the afternoon.

  She was beginning to feel a bit dizzy. What had that last one asked for? London wasn’t completely sure what she had just promised a young man for his single stateroom. Additional pillows, or was he the one who wanted …? Well, she’d check her notes later.

  Most of the passengers’ demands weren’t unreasonable and weren’t even unusual. She couldn’t blame them for wanting to have things their way. After all, her job was to make them happy.

  But there are just so many of them, she kept thinking.

  She’d never faced this kind of an onslaught as a cruise ship hostess. In those days, she’d only had to organize activities for specific groups after everybody was settled in. But she reminded herself that Amy Blassingame had said she’d take care of all these specific demands. At least London wasn’t going to have to follow up on every detail.

  Still, London hadn’t felt this harried since many years ago, when she’d worked as a waitress while going to community college. She only hoped she didn’t look as frantic as she had back then during lunch and dinner rushes.

  The afternoon flashed by like a series of jerky movie scenes, with smash cuts from one to the next. She felt relieved to get the final passenger in the line on board, but there was still more work to do.

  She hurried around the ship alerting various crew members to their new duties concerning luggage, newspapers, coffee, and a host of other demands the passengers had made. Finally she looked at her to-do list and saw that everything was checked off—at least for the moment. She took the list to the front desk and told the receptionist to put it in Amy Blassingame’s box.

  I did it! she thought.

  At least she hoped she had. It had all gone so fast that it seemed like a blur.

  London shook off her concerns and headed up to the open Rondo deck for a welcome breath of fresh, late afternoon air. Some passengers were chatting happily as they wandered the sundeck, and a couple of others had plunged into the pool. To her relief, none of them approached her with new problems to take care of.

  She stopped at the rail and looked out over the river. The Nachtmusik wouldn’t be leaving for its next destination until late tonight. Even while they were still here in the dock, the guests seemed to be already settling in nicely and enjoying themselves.

  Maybe the pressure will let up for a while, she thought hopefully.

  As she stood at the rail and gazed at the Danube flowing peacefully past the boat, she remembered Mom and Dad taking her on boat rides on that lovely river. And there, up ahead of the boat’s mooring, was the Szécheny Chain Bridge. They had carried her across that bridge on their shoulders and then through the mighty Citadella and the wonders of Buda Castle.

  She’d been trying not to think about Mom since she’d been in Budapest.

  But now she couldn’t seem to help it.

  What happened to her? she wondered, as she so often had over the intervening years.

  She remembered Tia’s words: “I guess she wasn’t as happy as she made herself out to be.”

  As London looked around at the cheerful pearl of a city, she wondered whether Tia might be right. Maybe marriage and family hadn’t been enough for Mom. Maybe their mother hadn’t met with some terrible fate. Maybe she’d simply left her New World life for a much more exciting life in the Old World.

  Maybe she was more like me than I knew, London thought.

  After all, London herself couldn’t imagine living her sister’s life.

  But at least she hadn’t spent years trying to live that way. Her mother had been married with two daughters when she’d disappeared.

  London felt a sudden ache in her throat.

  Didn’t she care about us? she wondered.

  Her thoughts were interrupted by a nearby male voice.

  “Enjoying the view, I see.”

  She turned and saw a tall and rather handsome man walking toward her. He was wearing the ship’s official dark blue suit, but she was sure she hadn’t seen him before.

  And yet somehow, she was immediately intrigued by him.

  CHAPTER SEVEN

  London tried not to gawk at the good-looking stranger. Although his black-rimmed glasses made him appear bookish, he was elegant and stylish in an Old World manner. She hadn’t quite caught the words on his small, dignified nameplate when he stepped to the rail right next to her.

  Who is he? she wondered, a bit surprised at her own reaction. She also had to wonder if she was blushing. During the year that Ian had been her boyfriend, London hadn’t given much thought to other men.

  He was obviously an official on the staff, but which one?

  “It’s a beautiful city,” she replied to his comment, pleased to begin a casual conversation.

  “I cannot think of a city more beautiful,” the man replied. He turned toward her, extended his hand, and added, “I am Emil Waldmüller, resident historian on the Nachtmusik.”

  London shook his hand and was impressed by his firm yet gentle grip. She guessed that he was in his forties, and she recognized his accent as German.

  “I’m pleased to meet you, Herr Waldmüller. I’m London Rose.”

  “Call me Emil, please,” the man said. “May I call you London?”

  “Please do.”

  “I saw you greeting passengers. You handled it well. You must be our new social director.”

  “I am,” London said. She felt relieved that someone thought she had managed the boarding rush all right.

  From Emil’s slight smile, London guessed that he’d gotten wind of Amy Blassingame’s fury at someone else getting that job. Perhaps he’d even witnessed one of her outbursts.

  “Yours is a demanding task,” he continued. “Passengers are not always easy to please.”

  “No, but I’ve been doing my best to serve people for years. I learned a motto during my years as an ocean cruise hostess. ‘The customer may not always be right, but the customer is always the customer.’”

  “A wise saying,” Emil said with a nod. “Right or wrong, one must always err on the side of the customer’s wishes.”

  Emil leaned on the rail and looked at London.

  “I am sorry to add to your workload,” he said. “But I just met with a group of passengers who have a request.”

  “What
is it?” she asked.

  “Well, our passengers have the rest of the day free, and of course many will be sightseeing on their own. But this small group is less familiar with the city, and they would at least like to go out to a nice restaurant before we leave—and so would I.”

  London wasn’t sure whether Emil was asking her permission to take the guests out or whether he wanted her to go with them.

  “There’s plenty of time for a dinner in Budapest,” she said. “It’s up to the passengers whether they eat in the ship’s restaurant or go ashore.”

  Emil continued, “Although I myself have been here many times and could show them about, they expressly asked for you to join us.”

  He shrugged a little.

  “I understand,” London said with a smile. “Actually, an outing would be good for me too. I’ve been kind of envying our passengers. At least they’ve had some time to explore. I just got here in time to go right to work, and I haven’t had a moment go anywhere. I was afraid I wouldn’t get to see anything more of Budapest than the view through my cab window and from right here on this deck.”

  “So you will lead our group?” Emil asked.

  “I’ll be glad to,” she said shyly. “But would you come along to give me a hand? I’m sure your knowledge of Budapest is much more up-to-date than mine, especially when it comes to choosing a place for dinner.”

  Emil smiled, looking a bit shy himself.

  “I was hoping you would ask,” he told her.

  London felt a twinge of interest. Did she detect a hint of attraction from him?

  She realized that her uniform felt rumpled and even a bit sweaty. She’d been wearing it all afternoon as she’d dashed about helping passengers get settled. There were several fresh uniforms in her closet, but she knew that Epoch company directives actually encouraged her to dress normally for social occasions ashore. Suddenly she looked forward to getting into something less severe.

  “Give me a few minutes,” she said. “I’d like to freshen up. I can meet you and the group at the gangway.”

  “I look forward to it,” Emil agreed. “I shall gather the company.”

  Feeling a bit giddy about the coming evening, London took the elevator down to the Allegro deck. In her cabin, she changed out of her uniform into a more appropriate outfit for an evening in the city—a midi-length skirt, a brightly patterned tunic, a long lightweight sweater, and some shoes with sensible heels. She brushed her bright auburn hair and made a final check in the full-length mirror.

  You’ll do, she decided.

  Then London took the elevator up to the Menuetto deck, where she found Emil and the group of about ten passengers waiting for her in the reception area. She recognized all their faces, of course, having greeted each of them a while earlier. Walter and Agnes Shick were here, along with Gus and Honey Jarrett.

  Then she was startled by a familiar growl. London turned and saw that Mrs. Klimowski had arrived—and she was carrying that bundle of long hair in her leather handbag. Sir Reginald Taft was staring at London, still looking quite unhappy.

  The woman was again weighed down with furs and overloaded with jewelry, including a pair of massive earrings that made her look positively top heavy. Most conspicuous was what was surely a valuable pendant hanging at her throat by a gold chain. It consisted of a large ruby decorated around the edges with small diamonds, all mounted in a gold setting.

  London stifled a sigh. She clearly saw that she had a problem on her hands.

  But she knew that she had to choose her words carefully.

  “Mrs. Klimowski, I’m afraid I can’t recommend that you go out this evening like …”

  Her voice faded.

  “Like what?” Mrs. Klimowski replied.

  “Well, with so much jewelry, and …”

  “And?”

  London couldn’t help but hesitate.

  Surely she knows what I mean, she thought.

  Then another familiar voice spoke up.

  “I believe she is referring to your dog, madam.”

  The speaker this time was the mysterious, black-clad Cyrus Bannister, who was gazing at Mrs. Klimowski dourly.

  “I can’t imagine why,” Mrs. Klimowski snapped.

  As if in agreement, the dog bared his teeth and growled.

  Bannister’s lips twisted into a very subtle sneer.

  “Madam, if you don’t mind my saying so, those valuables make you a veritable moving target for thieves. And your dog won’t be welcome in many of the places we might choose to visit.”

  “Nonsense!” Mrs. Klimowski said. “I’ve been here for two whole days now, and I’ve come and gone exactly as I’ve pleased, dressed just as I am and with my precious Sir Reginald cradled in my arms.”

  Bannister inhaled sharply.

  He was clearly about to escalate his criticism of Mrs. Klimowski. The last thing London wanted right now was an altercation.

  “It’s all right, Mrs. Klimowski,” she said hastily, before Bannister could speak. “I’m sure we’ll manage somehow.”

  “Well!” Mrs. Klimowski snorted. “I would think that goes without saying! This very discussion has left me most unsettled.”

  Emil spoke up before the argument could take off again.

  “What do you say we all get going?”

  There was a murmur of happy agreement from almost everybody.

  “Well, then,” Emil added, “I suggest we eat at the Duna Étterem, my own favorite restaurant here in Budapest. It is just a short walk from here.”

  The members of the group were all agreeable—except Mrs. Klimowski.

  “I’m afraid I must announce a change of plans,” the elderly woman said resolutely.

  London stifled a sigh.

  Now what? she wondered.

  CHAPTER EIGHT

  Several other passengers were beginning to look annoyed. London struggled to think of some way to turn an impending calamity into a pleasant evening.

  “Can’t we just go to dinner?” Agnes Shick asked the formidable little woman.

  “Not yet,” Mrs. Klimowski replied firmly.

  “Why ever not?” Walter Shick demanded.

  But Mrs. Klimowski was looking quite resolute.

  “We must go first to St. Stephen’s Basilica,” she said. “After all this unpleasantness, I’m in need of spiritual solace. Mine has been a tragic life. I have a greater need than most people for the comfort of prayer.”

  She was glaring almost accusingly at London right now, as if she were personally responsible for her lifetime of hardships.

  Before anybody could object, Emil spoke up with a smile.

  “I think that is an excellent suggestion. It is just a ten-minute walk from here, and it is practically right on the way to the Duna Étterem.”

  “Very good,” London agreed, again relieved at his smooth intervention. “Let’s be on our way, shall we?”

  As they all filed through the reception area doors and across the gangway, she jotted down a list of the people so she wouldn’t lose track of them. Then, as she and Emil steered the group away from the docked boat, London heard murmurs of discontent from a few others.

  “Didn’t we visit St. Stephen’s just yesterday on that city tour?”

  “I hadn’t planned to go there again.”

  “I hadn’t planned to go there at all.”

  “I’m hungry right now.”

  Looking markedly less frail now, Mrs. Klimowski had plunged on ahead of them all, with her dog still tucked inside her leather bag. She led the group with determination, apparently unable to hear what was being said behind her back.

  Not that it would matter if she did hear, London thought.

  Mrs. Klimowski didn’t seem to be the kind of person who worried about what other people thought about her.

  Emil leaned toward London as they walked and spoke to her in a whisper.

  “They are not exactly—what is that English idiom? ‘Happy settlers’?”

  London smiled as sh
e gently corrected her German companion.

  “You’re close. It’s ‘happy campers.’ No, I’m afraid they’re not. I hope we don’t have a mutiny before the night’s over. Thank you for helping me out.”

  “I am glad to oblige,” Emil replied. “But you seem to be worried.”

  London hesitated, unsure of whether she should unload her anxieties to a man she’d met just a little while ago. But Emil seemed genuinely concerned—and besides, London was starting to genuinely like him.

  “I’m afraid I’m off to a rocky start at this job,” she said. “I’ve never done anything quite like this before. Hostessing on a cruise ship is … well, more narrowly focused than this.”

  “It seems to me you are doing fine.”

  Emil’s reassurances helped London relax a little. When they left the docking area, they rounded the end of a city park and headed along a narrow street.

  London was relieved that Emil spoke to the group. She hoped his casual chatter would distract them from their annoyance with Mrs. Klimowski.

  “Here we must walk in the street,” he told them. “Everyone does, so the vehicle traffic takes other routes whenever possible.”

  The shops, greenery in large planters, and outdoor cafés left little sidewalk area, so they stepped into the patterned stone street. London was glad that she knew enough about touring to wear shoes with wide heels. Most of the other women in her group had also chosen sensible footwear.

  “And there is St Stephen’s, just ahead of us,” Emil announced.

  The basilica’s magnificent dome was in full view between the shops and offices along the way. Even from this far end of the street, it was an impressive sight.

  As they walked toward the massive dome, Emil continued, “I am sure you have heard the name of St. Stephen many times since you arrived in Budapest. He is Hungary’s patron saint, and a thousand years ago he was the country’s first Christian king. This basilica was built in his honor, completed about a hundred years ago.”

  When they reached the end of the street, they entered an enormous square of swirling orange and brown mosaic designs. St. Stephen’s dome and twin towers now loomed high before them.