Death on the Danube

by Jennifer S. Alderson

  “These are too good to save. I can always bake up a batch of gingerbread cookies when I get home.”

  “Heck, save yourself the trouble and tell them they all broke in transit,” Rebecca said.

  Nicole rejoined the group, a large bag of cookie ornaments in hand. “I’m ready. You lead the way, Lana.”

  Lana spotted Jess sitting by the fire, polishing off a shot of brandy. “It’s time to go,” she called out, not really caring whether Jess joined them. Right now, she would be happy if the younger woman somehow missed the bus. Unfortunately for Lana, she rose and followed the group. Soon they were all in the warm bus and on their way to dinner.

  Minutes later, she and Carl were ushering their group into a small café-like restaurant with long tables and padded benches. After getting them settled around one close to a low podium in the center of the dining room, Carl saddled up to her and whispered, “We usually help serve the drinks and appetizers here. That way they can get on with the cooking. It’s a small, family-owned restaurant, and they appreciate the assistance.” He led her to the tiny kitchen where platters full of glasses, water pitchers, and wine were ready to be served.

  “Of course,” Lana said, without looking at him. As much as she wanted to confront Carl, she knew it was not her place to do so. Instead, she picked up a tray of glasses with one hand and a pitcher with the other. As she poured drinks for her guests, Lana noticed Helen and Tom were actually participating in the group’s rehashing of the day’s events. And they even seemed positive. Perhaps simply sitting at the same table was all it took for them to join in the group spirit.

  Appetizers soon filled their table. The large plates of cheese, sausages, pickled vegetables, and breads were quickly consumed. It was salty, hearty, and heavenly. Lana hopped about, helping to serve drinks and answer her guests’ questions about tomorrow’s tour of Pest, the concert at the Saint Stephen’s Basilica, and their cruise on the Danube River.

  Once all of her guests’ needs were satisfied, Lana enjoyed the rich food, washing it down with a large glass of locally made red wine.

  Their savory meal was accompanied by a zither player specializing in classic Hungarian folk music. The young man’s instrument reminded Lana of a guitar without the long neck, yet this one had many more strings. Its surface was lacquered black with a rose painted on it. It lay on a small podium in front of the musician, who used his fingers and a pick to play it. The strings were so close together that every note sounded like a chord. Lana thought the melody was enchanting, but the Fabulous Five didn’t seem to care for it. Sally nuzzled up against Carl and tapped her foot in rhythm, clearly enjoying the music. Tom and Helen even seemed to be swaying in time with the beat. Jess appeared too drunk to care.

  Too soon, Carl left to find the tour bus and make certain the heater was on. Sally looked so forlorn without him. Lana sat down next to her. “How are you doing?”

  “Wonderful. It’s a dream, being here. Dotty was so kind to set this up. I don’t know what I would have done without Carl this holiday. Christmas was bad enough, but nothing is worse than being alone on New Year’s Eve.”

  Lana thought of her empty Seattle apartment. “Yes, if you are in a relationship, it’s important to be together,” she said, keeping her tone even.

  “Especially when it’s true love,” Sally responded quickly, oblivious to Lana’s comment or single status. “And I know that Carl is the one for me. I can’t wait to start planning our wedding as soon as we’re home.”

  Lana bit her tongue and stared at the zither player.

  12 A Nose for Sleuthing

  “Phew, what a day,” Lana said aloud, then felt foolish. Seymour wasn’t here to listen to her moan. With a few exceptions, the evening had gone swimmingly, but Lana was wiped out from her first full day on the job. The Christmas market was more expansive than she had imagined. She closed her eyes and recalled the classic music filling the air, the colorful ornaments, and the delicious scents. The dinner was also a success. Before Carl returned to collect them, the zither player was joined by a violist, and soon Frieda and Rebecca were dancing on their chairs in time with the lively Hungarian song.

  This was far from her first time leading a tour. Back in Seattle, she had taken tourists for two- to five-hour trips around Lake Union, through the Ballard Locks, and out to the Puget Sound. Yet being “on” all day, and with the same group for so long, was exhausting. She hoped that she could handle staying positive for four more days.

  Lana lay back on her bed and closed her eyes. During those kayaking tours, Lana often got glimpses into her clients’ lives simply by listening to their conversations and reading their body language. What she remembered most was how travel tended to highlight any tension within a relationship or group. That was certainly the case on this trip.

  To keep her mind occupied during the long paddles, Lana used to make up stories in her head about her clients’ lives and connections to each other. On a rare occasion, she had searched online to find out more about her clients, to see whether they matched her expectations. They usually did.

  That natural curiosity had lent itself perfectly to investigative journalism. If only her source had dared to come forward, then she would still be doing what she loved most. The whistleblower was concerned for his safety, and rightfully so. The information he had smuggled out of his workplace showed how a wood-processing plant intentionally dumped chemicals into local rivers. Fifteen years later, the local salmon population still had not recovered.

  Because her source refused to go on public record, the company’s lawyers made mincemeat of Lana’s story and evidence, easily winning the libel lawsuit they’d filed against the Seattle Chronicle, Lana, and her editor. Lana never did discover how much the Seattle Chronicle had to pay, but she and her editor lost their jobs shortly after. The company dumping chemicals got off scot-free. It made her sick to her stomach, but without her source to back up her story, there was nothing she could do.

  In spite of all of that, though, her curiosity was a switch she couldn’t turn off. How did Jess and Carl know each other? Lana couldn’t imagine he and the young woman had met at the beginning of this tour, as Carl claimed. Jess seemed downright obsessed with him. And what about Tom and Carl? They obviously knew each other, but it sounded like a business relationship gone sour.

  Lana pulled out her smartphone and searched the internet for information about Lake Union Yacht Rentals. On the “About Us” page, Tom Roberts was listed as the manager and Helen the owner. A short paragraph recounted how the company was founded by Helen’s father in 1948 and began with a fleet of three boats. Their fleet now boasted fifty-seven dinghies, catamarans, sailboats, and yachts in various sizes. She scanned the boats’ names, mostly puns or references to sunsets. When Lana searched online for more information about the larger yachts in their fleet, their current value appeared on the screen. Lana whistled under her breath. Several were worth a half-million dollars apiece. The company must be worth a fortune, or at least its fleet was.

  Curious to see where exactly they were moored, Lana searched for the Lake Union Marina and immediately found hundreds of photos of sleek yachts, shiny sailboats, and well-maintained tugboats. In the search results, a recent news article with the headline “Local Marinas Victim of Storm Mary” caught her eye. Lana recalled that a series of vicious storms had caused all sorts of damage on the islands in the Puget Sound, as well as the Seattle waterfront. When she clicked on the link, the lengthy article recounted the destruction, focusing on the damage done to boats moored at several local marinas, including the Lake Union Marina. The photos of the damage would make any sailor howl. Masts were snapped in half, and several yachts were lying on their sides, partially filled with water. Lana slowly scrolled through the pictures, paying attention to the names of the damaged vessels. She maneuvered back to the Lake Union Yacht Rentals fleet list. By golly, her eyes weren’t deceiving her; several of Helen’s rentals had been damaged during the storm. That might explain why bo
oking this trip had maxed out the company credit card. But if they were in financial trouble, why on earth had they decided to come here for a holiday? Even with the discount, Wanderlust Tours’ trips were absurdly expensive.

  Lana pondered these facts, realizing if the boats had been damaged in a storm, the insurance should have covered the repair costs. Why would Carl be involved in getting Tom’s fleet repaired? Carl was a gambling-addicted tour guide, not a boat mechanic. Whatever it was, it sounded like Tom hadn’t told his wife about it. Otherwise he wouldn’t have been desperate enough to follow Carl to Budapest.

  Unable to find any more clues as to Carl and Tom’s relationship, Lana moved on to Jess. What was she doing on this tour? She obviously had little interest in Budapest or travel. The only things she cared about were Carl and posting selfies on social media. Lana smiled, knowing where to look to find out more about Jess. She clicked on Instagram and found ten names that matched her guest. Soon enough, she found Jess’s profile.

  There were hundreds of selfies, yet only a handful featuring another person. Unfortunately for Sally, the other person was Carl. Lana clicked on the most recent, a sunset shot of Jess and Carl on the deck of a boat. In the background was the Seattle skyline. Carl was kissing her cheek. Behind them was a wooden plaque with the name of the boat on it. “If the S…” was all Lana could make out. The caption read: “Spending time with my man.” It was posted six weeks ago, right before Carl left for Europe to lead three tours in a row.

  Lana wanted to scream in frustration. Sally’s yacht was called If the Shoe Fits. It was too much of a coincidence to think Carl was on any other yacht. He had been taking his girlfriend-on-the-side out for trips on Sally’s own boat.

  Thankfully Sally was not active on social media, otherwise she might just poke Carl and Jess’s eyes out with her knitting needles. How could Carl do this to her? Lana knew she had no other choice but to tell Dotty, the next time they talked. She would want to know what Carl was doing to Sally, her good friend and business partner.

  As much as she wanted to kiss Seymour goodnight, she couldn’t face having that conversation with Dotty right now. Lana knew she would blame herself for introducing them, as well as sending Sally to Budapest.

  Lana looked at the clock and was shocked to see it was already midnight. Tomorrow her group would take a tour of central Budapest, before boarding a riverboat and embarking on a two-day cruise. She would need her wits about her. It was time to stop investigating and get some rest.

  Lana turned off the light and mulled over her guests’ backgrounds and connections until her eyes drooped shut.

  13 Man Overboard!

  December 29 – Day Three of the Wanderlust Tour in Budapest, Hungary

  Lana ran her hand over the shiny brass railings as she walked up the gangplank of the MS Franz Liszt. The riverboat’s dark wood paneling glistened in the late afternoon sun. Life buoys, decorative oars, and long poles with metal hooks were mounted to the exterior walls. Around the base of the boat hung decorative fishing nets, and at the back was a tiny lifeboat.

  The ship’s first mate welcomed them heartily on board, then led her group up a flight of metal stairs and into a well-lit hallway running down the center of the second floor. The boat was refitted to accommodate twenty-four passengers, but Dotty had reserved the entire boat for her group. The first mate showed each of her guests to their assigned cabins. Lana’s was next to the hallway door, meaning she only had one set of clients as neighbors. Unfortunately for her, they were Tom and Helen Roberts.

  Lana’s stateroom was big enough to hold a queen-sized bed, two chairs, and a small table. She was surprised to see that her window was actually a sliding glass door opening onto a private balcony. As soon as she opened it, snowflakes flew inside. Lana quickly closed the door and rubbed her arms warm before unpacking her bags.

  Once finished, Lana threw herself onto the bed and relaxed into the thick comforter. Now that her group was on board and getting settled in their rooms, the rest of the evening should be easy. It has been a whirlwind of a day. After a three-hour bus tour through Budapest and an afternoon concert at Saint Stephen’s Basilica, her group had been given an hour to pack up their suitcases before meeting in the lobby. Lana was glad she had packed light. The ability to gather her things quickly had given her a chance to finally talk to Carl, tour guide to tour guide. Luckily, she’d learned that there wasn’t much more expected of her than she was already doing. Keeping the guests happy was truly her top priority.

  Lana glanced at her wristwatch and frowned. Their dinner and the evening cruise along the Danube didn’t start for an hour, but she had already announced cocktails beforehand. She wanted to be the first one upstairs so she could start serving drinks as her guests arrived. The boat was small enough – and their schedule busy enough – that Dotty found it cheaper to just buy out the bar and let her guests drink whatever they fancied, instead of paying for a full-time barkeeper.

  She forced her body off the bed and changed into a forest green skirt and gray sweater before heading back out. On her way to the lounge, Lana decided to quickly explore her surroundings, in case any of the guests asked about the amenities on board. The MS Franz Liszt was not large and thus quite cozy. Their rooms were all on the second deck of the three-story ship, with a spacious dining room and lounge on the third deck. Both the restaurant and lounge offered spectacular views through floor-to-ceiling windows. Lana was glad they wouldn’t have to go up onto the upper deck to enjoy the views. In the summer, she could imagine it would be filled with lounging sunbathers. But now it was far too cold to be up there for any length of time. The smokers in her group would have no choice. To appease the nicotine addicts, there was a plastic tent set up at the back of the upper deck with ashtrays set out on two tables. Lana would have to mention its presence to the smokers in the group. So far she had noticed Carl, Jess, Helen, and Tom sneaking cigarettes whenever they were outside.

  On the lowest deck were the engine room, kitchen, and staff quarters. Hanging off a small balcony above the boat’s propellers were a lifeboat and fishing nets. Her stomach grumbling in anticipation, Lana wondered whether they would eat any fresh fish. She loved seafood and was spoiled for choice in Seattle.

  When she heard voices on the staircase, Lana sped back up to the lounge, just in time to see her guests arriving via the other entrance.

  Soon they were all assembled in the lounge, most of the guests seated on the plush cushions lining the windows, enjoying the views as they sipped their cocktails. Random bursts of fireworks exploded over the Danube River, set off by locals incapable of waiting until the new year officially began. After they moved next door to the dining room, a dancer performed for them until their food was served. After she had departed, they set sail down the Danube. Dinner was a delicious mix of traditional and contemporary Hungarian dishes that were rich and satisfying. To Lana’s astonishment, almost all included paprika – even the dessert.

  More than the food, Lana loved watching the skyline of Budapest, illuminated by seemingly millions of twinkling yellow lights and a hazy white moon. The grandiose architecture seemed even more beautiful at night.

  The only blemish on the otherwise perfect evening was Jess. During the meal, she sat across from Carl and Sally, despite Frieda’s attempts to block her from reaching the seat in time. It seemed to Lana that Jess used every excuse possible to brush up against Carl’s hands, arms, and legs.

  At one point, Lana felt compelled to step in by trying to draw the woman into a conversation. Unfortunately when Lana asked Jess which neighborhood she lived in, the young woman responded with, “Why do you care, Nancy Drew?” then ignored her.

  To her credit, Sally pretended not to notice Jess’s attention-seeking moves the first few times they happened, but at some point, enough was enough.

  Before Lana could think up a way to defuse the situation, Sally exploded. “That’s it! You’ve been flirting shamelessly with my fiancé since I got here. I’m sick of it!
Stay away from my man, you hussy!”

  Sally sprung out of her chair and threw her wine into Jess’s face. Lana’s jaw dropped in shock. Little old Sally actually stood up for herself! As the group’s guide, she knew that she should scold Sally, but all she wanted to do was cheer.

  Jess, however, was not about to let bygones be bygones. “Carl, are you going to let her treat me like dirt? Stand up for me, you buffoon. I am carrying your child.”

  The room went silent so fast it was as if everyone froze simultaneously. Lana swore she could hear a pin drop. Carl stood wide-eyed and gaping, but no words came out to comfort his fiancée. Sally was the first to make a move, running screaming out of the room.

  “You’ve gone too far, Jess. You shouldn’t have said that.” Carl shook his head as he growled at her, then stormed out after Sally.

  “Sally, it’s not true. She’s just trying to…” They could all hear him pleading as he raced down the stairs after her.

  All sat stock-still on their chairs as they listened to Carl pounding on Sally’s door. Oh God, Lana thought, this is a nightmare. Dotty had been right; this cruise was cursed! Carl’s hammering became more intense and his tone more desperate. Lana knew she couldn’t leave Sally alone with him right now.

  “I’ll be right back,” Lana said as she raced down the stairs. Carl was much bigger than she was, and there was no way she would be able to physically restrain him. She only hoped he would have enough sense not to lash out and hurt either her or Sally.

  As Lana reached the hallway, she saw that Carl’s fist was in midair and the door to Sally’s room was opening. Lana stopped where she was and waited, hoping the couple could resolve their dispute peacefully. As soon as Sally was visible, Carl dropped his hand and hung his head.

  “You said you wanted to be with me. That’s the only reason I bailed you out again. How long have you been with her?” Sally demanded.