by Blake Pierce
When London opened her door, she found Sir Reginald sitting on the bed looking at her rather expectantly, as if he was curious to hear where she’d been and what she’d been doing. She sat down on the bed and stroked his silky coat.
“It’s a long story,” she said. “It would only bore you.”
Sir Reginald let out what sounded like a grunt of disagreement.
London sighed.
Here I go, talking to the dog again.
But maybe talking to the dog would help put her own roiling thoughts in order.
“Things aboard this ship are crazy,” she told him. “Everybody’s upset. And poor Mrs. Shick just had an awful anxiety attack. Fortunately, Bryce came right away to take care of her. He seems like an excellent medic.”
Sir Reginald let out a quizzical little growl.
“OK, so he’s also good-looking. So sue me for sort of getting a crush on him. I’m only human.”
Continuing to pet the dog, she thought back over all that had just happened.
“But I just don’t know, Sir Reginald,” she said. “I can’t help feel like there was something odd about Agnes’s attack. And she actually called her husband Brian. His name’s Walter. What do you suppose that was all about?”
Sir Reginald whimpered noncommittally.
“Walter seemed anxious about her calling him that. And he also seemed anxious when she mentioned being upset by all the police on board. What does she find so upsetting about police? I feel like … well, maybe they’re hiding something.”
London shook her head.
“But that’s crazy. What am I even thinking? That they might have had something to do with Mrs. Klimowski’s death? That’s just ridiculous. Walter and Agnes are two of the nicest people aboard the Nachtmusik. They’d never hurt a soul …”
She paused, then added, “Or at least I don’t think so. But what do I know about them, really? They were right there at the table with Mrs. Klimowski yesterday. What if they’re not who they seem to be?”
Sir Reginald was looking at her with seemingly rapt attention.
“And anyway, what about Gus?” she said. “He was sitting at that table too. And so was Honey. And so were …”
London fell silent.
Then she scratched the dog’s head.
“I’ve got to get back to being Nancy Drew,” she said. “I’ve got to do my best to solve this case on my own.”
She tilted her head and looked into the dog’s eyes.
“Whatever happened, you saw it, didn’t you?” she said.
Sir Reginald let out a whimper. London sighed.
“It’s like Honey said a little while ago—if only you could talk.”
But as she sat and studied the dog’s face, an idea started to occur to her.
“Maybe you can talk, in your own way.”
Before she could think her idea through, her phone rang. She saw that the call was from Elsie Sloan.
“London!” Elsie exclaimed when she took the call. “Do you have any idea what’s going on?”
“Just that the Gyor police suspect somebody on the boat of killing Mrs. Klimowski.”
“Huh! What a ridiculous idea!”
London wished she could feel so sure that the idea was so ridiculous.
“They questioned me a little in the captain’s quarters,” London said, “and now they’re questioning other people. They seem to be questioning everybody who had lunch with her yesterday.”
“What can we do?”
Before London could open her mouth to reply, Elsie added, “And don’t tell me we can just let them do their job. There’s a mystery to solve.”
“I know,” London said. “And I want to solve it. And Mr. Lapham says he wants me to solve it too.”
“My goodness, Mr. Lapham! You’ve got your marching orders from on high, then. So what do you want to do?”
The plan London had been forming before Elsie’s call now began to take shape in her mind.
“Elsie, I need to get off this boat without the cops or the alezredes knowing about it. Do you have any idea how I could do that?”
Elsie let out a gasp of enthusiasm.
“Do I ever!” she said. “Right now I’m on the Menuetto deck. I see just one policeman keeping watch at the gangway. I’ll have no trouble distracting him and—”
“Elsie, wait. I don’t want to get you in trouble.”
“Since when have I ever cared about getting into trouble?”
London couldn’t help but admire Elsie’s pluck.
And that’s what I need right now.
Some good old-fashioned pluck.
“Where are you right now?” Elsie asked.
“In my stateroom.”
“OK, then. Come up to the Menuetto deck and the reception area. We’ll get right to work.”
Elsie ended the call without explaining her plan any further. London got off the bed and put the dog on its leash and picked up the animal.
London hoped she could figure out on the fly what Elsie had in mind.
I might need to do a little improvising, she thought.
London left her room and took the elevator to the Menuetto deck. When she got off the elevator, she found no one in the reception area.
I just need to stay out of sight.
And I need to stay lucky.
Then she did hear a couple of voices—a man’s and a woman’s. The woman’s voice was definitely Elsie’s.
She slipped behind the reception desk, then peered over the top of it. Sure enough, she saw Elsie and one of the uniformed police officers standing at the end of the gangway. She could also make out at least some of what Elsie was saying to the officer as she jabbered.
It sounded to London like a Hungarian-English word salad—the kind of babbling a tourist might use when lost in a foreign city and knowing nothing of the local language except what could be found in a phrasebook.
London smiled at Elsie’s guile.
She didn’t know how well Elsie really knew Hungarian, but she was sure she was faking a good bit of her ignorance. And her tactic was working perfectly. The officer was smiling broadly, obviously charmed by the efforts of this pretty, tall blond woman to communicate with him. And he obviously didn’t know any English.
But he also still seemed to be intent on doing his job.
“Do you want to leave the ship?” he said in Hungarian. “Because you can’t.”
“I don’t understand,” Elsie said in English with a shrug. “I wish I knew Hungarian better.”
Then she strung a crazy assortment of English and Hungarian words together.
“Something … going on … don’t know … things happening … what or where … I should be … we … you … don’t know … this is all so scary … I’ve never been this afraid …”
The police officer interrupted gently in Hungarian.
“Are you scared about the murder? You needn’t be. You’re safe aboard the ship. But you’d be safest in your own room.”
“Huh?”
“Where you, eh, live on the boat. Your room.”
“Oh. What do you mean about … my room?”
“You ought to go there.”
“Oh.”
But she didn’t move from her spot.
The officer gestured broadly, trying to make his meaning clearer as he kept speaking in Hungarian.
“Where … is … your … room?”
Elsie looked at him as if she didn’t understand why he was asking the question.
“It is … not here,” she managed to say in Hungarian.
“Another deck, then?”
The officer made a ladder-like gesture with his hands.
Elsie’s eyes opened wider.
“Oh, I see,” she said in English.
Then she repeated “I see” in Hungarian.
Pointing downward, the officer said, “Is your deck below?”
“Yes, down,” Elsie said in Hungarian.
“Which level? How far below?�
�
“Down.”
The officer was chuckling heartily, quite amused by the situation, and obviously more than a little smitten by Elsie.
“Come on,” he said. “Let’s get you where you’re supposed to be.”
And sure enough, he started to escort Elsie toward the elevator. Elsie had created exactly the kind of distraction she had promised, and London knew she needed to seize her opportunity. Without looking back, she rushed out through the reception area doors, down the gangway, and across the little raft to the riverside.
Then she set the little dog on the ground and held onto him by the leash.
“OK, Sir Reginald,” she said. “Let’s get moving.”
As if he understood, the dog broke into a trot, and London followed him.
CHAPTER TWENTY THREE
As she followed Sir Reginald Taft through the twisting streets of Old Town Gyor, London was beginning to feel that her quest was absurd. The dog was certainly enthusiastic, tugging so hard on the leash that she broke into a jog to keep up with him.
She certainly didn’t expect him to lead her straight to the murderer—especially not if the murderer was someone aboard the Nachtmusik.
But maybe he could lead her to …
Something, she thought. Some clue only he knows how to find.
But they seemed to be headed nowhere in particular. First they passed the statue of the Archangel Michael defeating Satan in battle, then the Virgin Mary on a column flanked by four Apostles.
“Do you really know where you’re going?” she asked Sir Reginald as they approached the Vienna Gate Square with its Baroque Carmelite Church.
Then she silently scolded herself.
A silly question.
How could she expect the dog to even understand the task she’d set for him? Sir Reginald Taft was just a little Yorkshire Terrier, not some bloodhound trained for police work. Maybe he just thought they were out for another tour of Gyor.
But the dog trotted on steadfastly, and she kept following him.
By the time they reached the Boatman sculpture, London was tired and discouraged. She sat down on the low marble wall surrounding the sculpture to catch her breath and organize her thoughts. The dog sat down at her feet.
Just what do you think you’re doing? she asked herself.
As if in reply, Mr. Lapham’s words echoed through her mind.
“As of this moment, I’m awaiting word that you’ve solved this matter.”
A lot of moments had already passed since that phone call. She could easily imagine Mr. Lapham sitting by the phone awaiting word from her that she’d cracked the mystery, his patience waning by the second. He really had made clear that he thought it was her responsibility.
What was more, Mr. Lapham didn’t have much confidence in the police.
I guess it really is up to me, she thought.
She looked at Sir Reginald, who was now up again and pacing and wagging his tail as if he wanted to get on their way.
“Where are you taking me?” London asked.
The dog let out a little yap.
“I’ll bet you’re not taking me anywhere,” London grumbled. “You’re just taking me on a wild goose chase. I might as well head back to the boat and see if I can sneak back onboard without getting into trouble. This whole idea was a mistake.”
Then she spotted the uniforms on the other side of the plaza.
And a risky mistake at that.
A couple of police officers were strolling along not far away. It hadn’t occurred to her until just this moment to be on the lookout for police.
But maybe the police are on the lookout for me.
By now Borsos may have realized that she was no longer aboard the Nachtmusik. If so, maybe he’d put out an APB to the local police to watch out for her. And if he had, she’d certainly be easy to spot in her Epoch World Cruise Lines uniform, with its distinctive dark blue slacks and a blouse and vest.
I’m like a sitting duck, she realized.
She scooped up Sir Reginald in her arms and walked quickly to the nearest side street. As she rounded the corner she glanced back and saw that the two police officers didn’t seem to have noticed her yet. But then Reginald leaped to the ground with an excited yap.
As London turned toward the dog, she found herself face to face with someone else wearing an Epoch World uniform. The woman backed up a few steps and they stared at each other in flustered surprise.
“What are you doing here?” London and Amy Blassingame blurted, practically in unison.
London reminded herself that she was Amy’s boss.
“You tell me first,” London demanded.
Amy let out a whining sigh.
“OK, if you must know, I’m on my way to meet somebody. I was startled when the little mutt yapped at me.”
“Meet somebody?” London snapped. “Why would you …”
“Sneak off the ship?” Amy countered. “Why would anybody do a thing like that? I guess we could both get arrested today.”
Struck by the foolishness of their situation, London let out a brief laugh.
Amy grinned slightly in response and pointed to a man who was sitting alone at a table in a nearby sidewalk café.
“There’s my reason,” she said.
London recognized him at once. He was the man Amy had been flirting with early yesterday morning at the end of the gangway.
“Who is he?” London asked.
“His name is Sandor Füst.”
“So what is this—a date?”
“Well, yes, I guess you could call it that. I met him yesterday morning when you were on your way out with your tour group. He told me he’d be here today if I could get away to meet him. Well, I told him we wouldn’t be here today, of course having no way of knowing someone would be murdered and we would be stuck here. But he said he’d be here anyway just in case.”
Amy shrugged and added, “But when the police came on board a little while ago and the captain said we all had to stay aboard …”
Amy rolled her eyes like a teenager.
“Oh, London, I thought I’d go crazy, knowing that Sandor was out here expecting me—sort of—to meet him. I went to the reception room to see if I could figure out how to get off the boat, and then…”
Her voice faded, but London knew what she meant.
“You saw what Elsie and I were doing,” she said.
“That’s right. I saw how Elsie distracted that policeman and you slipped away. Elsie seemed to be having a good time with him. He stayed distracted after you got clear of the boat, so I had plenty of time and …”
Amy shrugged.
“Well, I seized the moment, so to speak. I know, it’s not like me to be so spontaneous and devil-may-care. But here I am. And London, I’m so happy I took the plunge! Sandor and I don’t know each other at all, and I don’t speak any Hungarian and he doesn’t speak much English. But that just makes it all the more exciting. And we both felt a connection between us the very second our eyes met on the shore. Isn’t it romantic?”
London couldn’t deny that it sounded like quite an adventure. She hadn’t realized Amy had this kind of pluck—and apparently Amy hadn’t either. The so-called “River Troll” had an unexpected taste for adventure.
“So now if you don’t mind …” Amy said, starting to walk toward the man, who was still waving at her.
London stopped her.
“Wait a minute, Amy,” she said. “This isn’t a good idea.”
Amy scoffed.
“Well, you should talk. What are you doing ashore, anyway?”
“I’m trying to find out who killed Mrs. Klimowski.”
“Aren’t the police doing that?”
London fought down a groan of frustration.
“Supposedly,” she said.
“What do you mean, supposedly?”
“The police chief, Alezredes Borsos, questioned me a while ago in the captain’s quarters. And I’m not so sure he knows what he’s doing.
To make things worse, he acts like he suspects me.”
“You?”
“That’s right. And there’s one more thing. I got a call from Mr. Lapham. He told me I’ve got to solve the case myself.”
Amy’s eyes widened.
“He ordered you to solve it?”
London nodded.
“I guess you’d better get to work, then,” Amy said.
“And you’d better get back to the boat,” London said.
“London, why? You get to have your little adventure. Why don’t I get to have one too?”
London could think of a dozen reasons, including the likelihood that it was against Epoch World Cruise Lines policy for employees to fraternize with foreign locals. But London was worried about a far more serious issue.
“Amy, listen to me. You saw how things are aboard the boat. It’s chaos. Nobody knows what’s going on. It’s risky enough that I’m out and about. If the police notice you’re gone too, it’ll only make things worse. They might even suspect you.”
“Oh, my!” Amy said with a gasp.
London could see by her expression that the fun had just gone out of her romantic adventure.
“You’d better get back there,” London said.
“OK,” Amy said. “But what will I tell the policeman who’s guarding the gangway when I come back aboard? What should I say I was out doing?”
London thought for a moment. She had half a mind to tell Amy to tell the guard he’d get in bad trouble if Borsos found out he’d let her slip off the boat, and he’d better let her come back aboard quietly. But she was quickly shocked at herself for even considering such a sleazy tactic.
“What about the truth?” she said. “That you sneaked out for a date?”
“Well, I don’t have a good excuse,” Amy said with a tilt of her head. “So I guess the truth will do as well as anything. It won’t make things any worse, anyway. But—what should I say if anyone asks about you?”
London wished she could suggest that Amy lie and say she hadn’t seen her. But lying wouldn’t be the right thing to do—especially not when finding out the truth was so desperately important.
“Just tell them the truth,” she said. “Say I’m out doing some detective work of my own. Borsos won’t like it but … well, I can’t say I really care. I just need some time to check out a few things.”
