Death on the Danube

by Jennifer S. Alderson

  “Jess did insinuate that she’d overheard Tom and Carl reviewing business contracts while waitressing,” Frieda confirmed.

  “Oh no, is Helen in danger?” Sara asked.

  “I don’t think so,” Lana said. “If Tom really did push Carl overboard and try to poison Jess, he did it to prevent Helen from discovering his secret. If he was going to kill her, you would think he would have just poisoned Helen, instead of going to the trouble of killing the others.”

  “True, though I still think we should tell her,” Sara said.

  “But how could we, without Tom finding out that we suspect him?” Lana asked.

  “And what about Jess?” Sara pressed. “We can’t just let him try again, can we?”

  “No, I suppose not,” Lana grumbled, not relishing the thought of keeping Jess close. “We’ll have to let her know about Tom, or at least what we suspect.”

  “If Tom really is a murderer, than he must be pretty pleased that Sally has been taken into custody,” Rebecca said.

  “If he thinks he got away with it, he might let his guard down and slip up,” Lana said. “Until we have solid proof, all we can do is watch him.”

  30 Jeremy Gets in Touch

  When it was 7 a.m. in Seattle, Lana left the ladies in the Finnish sauna and headed back to the hotel. A quick check of her email revealed a new message from Jeremy, sent minutes earlier. Thank God for early risers, she thought then dialed his number, eager to know what he’d discovered.

  “Hey, Jeremy. Any luck reaching your contacts?”

  “Of course not, it’s the holidays. Most people are with their families.”

  Lana sighed. “I figured it would be too easy if you had.”

  “But you are in luck. However, before I share this information with you, you have to promise not to tell anyone about it. It is part of an exclusive story we are going to publish on January 3.”

  “I don’t exactly move in the same circles as I used to. Your secret is safe with me.”

  “My news editor is writing an exposé about a Ponzi scheme and the suckers they lured in. Forty local business owners invested in a new plastic recycling plant that would have been built on Bainbridge Island. They transferred millions into a fund earmarked for its construction. The only problem is, the investment management firm never intended to build the plant. Once they hit their goal, they flew the coop. The money is gone. It looks like Tom was one of the investors. He’d pumped almost two hundred thousand dollars into the fund over the past six months.”

  “The kiss of death strikes again,” Lana mumbled. Tom had absolutely no business sense.

  “As part of her story, my news editor did some digging into Tom’s background and discovered that his yacht rental company got hit badly during a recent storm. And it looks like they were underinsured. With such a large fleet, it will cost a fortune to get them all up and running again.”

  “Tom is really in over his head, isn’t he?” Lana said. His fleet of rental yachts was busted, and he lost two hundred thousand in bad investments. What a sucker. How could Helen stay with him?

  “There is one more thing, but my Lifestyle editor wasn’t certain if it was a mistake or not.”

  “Go on.”

  “Helen’s lawyer filed for divorce two days ago. Last night, she annulled the documents.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “I mean her lawyer withdrew the divorce petition, meaning Helen is no longer seeking to part from her husband. Though it does look like she was intending to do so only two days ago. And she had a prenuptial agreement, so Tom wouldn’t have gotten a penny. Like I said, my editor isn’t certain if there was a mix-up with either the filing or withdrawal. It happened so fast, it almost seems like a glitch. But a juicy one I thought you would be interested in.”

  “Jeremy, none of this makes much sense right now, but I’m certain it will soon. You’ve been a big help, my friend.”

  “I’m sorry I couldn’t do more for you. I can ask my contacts about your other questions after New Year’s Day.”

  “There’s no need. Sally should have a lawyer by the end of the day, and they’ll take over the investigation. Thanks, Jeremy. And happy New Year.”

  “You too, Lana.”

  Lana stared at the receiver, processing the information Jeremy had just passed along. She wasn’t surprised that Helen had filed for divorce; she and Tom fought like cats and dogs. But the timing was so strange. Here they were on vacation, while her lawyer was starting a legal chain of events that would end their marriage. Then, before it could even get going, he stopped the process. So where did that leave Helen and Tom? Still married, I guess, Lana thought, though not happily. What had happened last night to make Helen change her mind?

  31 Power and Revenge

  Lana readjusted her pantyhose and took a long look in the hotel room mirror. As she twirled around in her flapper-style dress, she couldn’t help but smile. She looked good for thirty-seven. Since her divorce had become final, she had rarely gone out. The idea of seeing couples in love had kept her home. If anything, this trip to Budapest had reminded her that there was still a world waiting to be explored. After she got back to Seattle, she’d have to go out more. Who knew? She might yet find her prince on a white horse.

  When she went down to the lobby to meet her group, they were all enjoying cocktails while waiting for the bus to arrive.

  Tom was regaling the group with his latest business idea – riverboat cruises from Seattle to Vancouver Island. “I’ve already been in touch with a local shipbuilder. He thinks he could get me ten straightaway and another five or so by March.”

  Lana’s eyebrows rose automatically.

  “They aren’t meant to sail on the ocean, Tom. That’s why they are called riverboats,” Helen chastised. Tom ignored her, instead continuing on about his plan as if she hadn’t spoken.

  Riverboats? Lana thought. Helen must be livid. Tom had already ruined her yacht rental business. There was no way someone like Helen would stay with someone like Tom willingly. What is he holding over her? Lana wondered. They continued to bicker, making most of the other guests visibly uncomfortable. Lana was afraid things were going to come to a head when Helen suddenly stood up and ran into the lobby’s bathroom.

  Tom called out, “’Til death do us part,” as Helen stormed off. When the bus arrived minutes later, Lana wasn’t certain Helen would join them. But Tom went to fetch his wife, and whatever he said to her brought her out of the bathroom and into the van without another word.

  The moonless night and falling snow made it feel as if they were driving through a tunnel. When they arrived at the Hungarian State Opera House, the first thing Lana noticed was the dramatic lighting. The opera house was only three stories tall, but each level was grandly decorated with delicate porticos and statues. The arched entryway loomed high above the visitors congregating around the entrance. Lana’s jaw dropped when they walked into the foyer. The ceiling was richly decorated with frescos and gold molding. The grand staircase, made of white stone and marble, seemed to snake through the expansive lobby. Lana was afraid to step on the red carpet for fear of dirtying it. The highly polished walls reflected the lights and sounds of happy patrons. Everything sparkled and shone. It was incredible.

  “Where are we sitting?” Rebecca asked, breaking the spell.

  “Let me get our tickets.” Lana looked around until she spotted the box office. Dotty said their tickets would be waiting there for them. When Lana approached, she noticed they rented opera glasses. “Does anyone want to use these?” She pointed at the sign.

  “No thanks. I’d rather watch the show and not worry about trying to follow the singers around,” Frieda explained.

  “Good point, Frieda. Anyone else?”

  “We have our own pair,” Helen said.

  “Okay, let me rent one for myself, then we’ll find our seats.”

  Lana searched for the correct entrance, then led her group into the main auditorium.

  “Ho
ly cow,” Lana whispered, completely taken aback by the beauty of it all. A massive chandelier hung in the center of the dome-like ceiling. Elegant frescoes of angels playing musical instruments circled the lighting fixture. Three levels of seating were built into the sides of the horseshoe-shaped auditorium; the yellow stone glowed against the red walls, floors, and seats. The tourist guidebooks weren’t lying when they said this opera house was one of the most beautiful in the world.

  A uniformed attendant handed them all brochures summarizing the opera’s plot, then led them to their seats. Her group was sitting three rows behind the orchestra pit. Lana felt like a princess. She only hoped her dress was formal enough. Lana was anxiously comparing her clothes to the other patrons’ dresses, when Helen said, “Oh, they have boxes here. I wonder if one is still available.”

  Before Lana could react, Helen was already walking back to the box office with Tom in tow. Lana tagged along, curious to see whether Helen would be successful.

  When Helen inquired, the ticket seller’s face lit up. “We do have a last-minute cancellation. It is a box on the third tier, on the far left.”

  “Excellent, I’ll take it.” Helen lay her ticket down on the counter to get her credit card out. The seller noticed her current seating placement. “Your seats on the floor do have better views of the stage than this box. Are you certain you wish to switch places?”

  “Oh yes, I am quite certain.”

  The ticket seller shrugged and charged her credit card.

  When Lana saw the price, she almost choked. How could Helen afford the tickets? Did she even know that she was broke? As tempting as it was to say something, Lana bit her tongue. It wasn’t her place, and she didn’t yet know all the facts.

  Tom kissed her cheek. “We deserve only the best, right, Helen?”

  Helen’s smile made Lana’s skin crawl. Tom took her arm as they ascended the grand staircase to their private box. So much for keeping an eye on him, Lana thought.

  When Lana returned to her group, Frieda stood up and announced, “I want to sit on the end, in case I have to use the toilet. We saved you this seat.” Frieda pointed to the one next to her. Lana squeezed in next to Sara, sinking deep into the comfortable chair. They were perfectly situated to see both into the orchestra pit and the entire stage.

  Lana dutifully opened the brochure and skimmed the brief summary of the opera.

  Sara leaned over Lana to read the pamphlet to Frieda. “It’s a one-act opera by Richard Strauss. Oh no, it’s a hundred minutes long, with no intermission.”

  “Great, I hope my bladder can make it through,” Frieda grumbled.

  “Elektra is a story of power and revenge. Her mother kills her father, and Elektra vows vengeance,” Sara explained.

  “Geez, what kind of play is this? Couldn’t they have picked something lighter for New Year’s Eve?” Frieda grumbled.

  “This is the most frequently performed opera in the world, at least of those based on classic Greek mythology,” Lana said, repeating what she’d just read.

  “Great, philosophy was always my weakest subject,” Sara said.

  “Mythology,” Lana corrected.

  “Oh, I always thought that the Greeks invented mythology as a way of illustrating their philosophy.”

  Lana pondered her statement for a moment. “I never thought of it that way before.”

  Moments later, the lights dimmed until only the exits were illuminated. Lana looked to her companions and smiled.

  Trumpets blared as the curtains lifted, startling them all. Filling the stage was an off-kilter wall with large openings spaced sporadically over its surface. It was gray and devoid of decoration, reminding Lana of a Soviet-era apartment building lying on its side. Red and blue spotlights lit up the openings, casting the singers standing inside of each in a creepy light. At center stage stood a woman in a dirty robe, her hair a bird’s nest, her face covered with black streaks.

  Above the stage, the subtitles lit up, translating the text. “You should not take pleasure in my pain…” sang the lead character while gesturing dramatically towards her mother. The singer’s demeanor and delivery were electrifying. Her voice was impassioned with a soul-crushing sadness.

  Whoever this Elektra was, she was wild, crazy, and obviously going mad, Lana thought. It was an intense, violent world, and the music fit perfectly. The musical score was much more modern than Lana had expected. It was at times bombastic and chaotic, and moments later melodious and soothing. The action on stage reminded Lana of Helen and Tom’s relationship. She frequently looked up towards their private box, but it was so dark that she could not see them.

  A few minutes into the opera, Frieda leaned over to Sara and whispered, “Why do they keep screaming at each other? I can’t understand a single word.”

  “I think they’re singing in German,” Sara whispered back. “Why don’t you read the subtitles?”

  “My glasses are for reading, but not at that long a distance.”

  “Shh,” said the woman sitting behind Frieda. She glared at Lana for good measure.

  “Why don’t you switch places with me?” Lana whispered into Sara’s ear.

  “I’m fine where I’m at,” Sara said while jutting her chin.

  Lana ignored the woman behind them and focused on what was happening on stage. Soon she was swept up in the tragic story. This was her first real opera, and Lana was blown away by the magnitude. It was so much than just the music. The costumes, scenery, lighting, props, and emotionally charged acting made it a powerful and compelling performance. If only the topic was less depressing, she thought. A story of murder and revenge was indeed a strange way to ring in the new year.

  When the onstage lighting brightened to illuminate the front of the podium, Lana realized she could now see Tom and Helen quite clearly through her rented opera glasses. To her surprise, they were chatting animatedly while gesturing towards the stage. Looking at them now, no one would suspect that they’d barely spoken to each other during the past few days. What changed to make Helen come out of her shell? Lana wondered. Tom stood and leaned over the railing while looking through their opera glasses. Their view must not be that great, just like the ticket seller told them, Lana realized.

  “I don’t understand. Why did the mother murder the father and son?” Frieda asked.

  “Shh,” said the woman behind them, this time leaning in close to Lana’s ear as she hushed them.

  “Okay, back off lady,” Lana growled. The older woman pulled back.

  “Power and prestige,” Sara whispered.

  “Would you kill your own son and husband for that? She must have known her daughters would try to avenge their father’s death,” Frieda mused.

  “That’s why she tried to lock them up in an insane asylum,” Sara said.

  “Greek tragedies are really twisted.”

  “Greek tragedies are based on human behavior. In this case, greed. Those with power or social standing are often so afraid of losing it that they flaunt it, out of insecurity. You only have to look at people like Helen and Tom to believe it. And when they are threatened with losing their perceived power, they can strike out at the most unexpected moments,” Sara said.

  “What do you mean, Helen and Tom?” Lana asked. She glanced up at their box and saw Helen was taking her turn with the theater binoculars. Helen leaned so far over the railing that Lana was afraid she was going to fall over. Helen began pointing at something on the far right of the stage. Lana looked but couldn’t see what she found so fascinating. Was there a singer offstage that Helen could see from up there? Tom stood up next to his wife to better see what interested her. Helen handed him the opera glasses.

  “I wouldn’t be surprised if Helen and Tom were broke, mortgaged to the hilt and living far beyond their means. Those types usually are,” Frieda said.

  “As if you would know,” Sara hissed.

  “My husband was an insurance adjustor. I would know,” Frieda shot back. “I still don’t understand why
Elektra wants to kill her mother instead of having her brought to trial. Wouldn’t that be true justice?”

  “Would you please be quiet!” the woman behind them whispered.

  “If this Strauss guy had built in an intermission, I could have read the brochure and would know what this was about, instead of having to ask,” Frieda grumbled.

  In the hope of staving off a fight, Lana squinted in the low light to read the rest to Frieda. “Elektra thinks killing her mother is the only way she will be able to put an end to her maddening dreams and find the peace she seeks. Only after her mother is dead will she be able to let go of the hatred she’s held on to for so long. But her bloodlust for vengeance ultimately destroys her.”

  “Tragic,” Frieda murmured.

  “That is enough!” the woman behind them said in a normal tone of voice. However, in this opera house with its perfect acoustics, it sounded as if she was shouting. Several rows turned to look for the source. Even the singers on stage seemed momentarily jarred by the outburst.

  Lana shrunk down into her chair, wishing she could disappear, before remembering that she was the guide and thus responsible for her guests.

  Lana turned to the woman behind them. “I am so sorry. It won’t happen again.”

  Frieda leaned close to Lana and murmured in her ear, “I bet she and Helen would get along fabulously. She’s one of those uppity types, as well. Did you see her scarf? That’s hand-painted silk. I bet it cost a fortune. But her dress has been altered too many times. Did you see the fraying at the sleeves? With those types, it’s all about keeping up appearances,” Frieda said, her tone smug.

  Suddenly Lana felt as if she was falling down a dark tunnel. Oh no, could it be that simple?

  Snippets of information raced through Lana’s head: refinanced mortgages, discounted vacations, and a business about to go bankrupt. And then there were the damaged yachts and Tom’s Ponzi scheme investments.

  Tom had ruined her. Helen filing for divorce made perfect sense. Her social standing might be tarnished by divorcing him, but it would be easy enough for her to convince her friends that Tom was the bad guy in their relationship. Heck, they’d probably cheer her for getting rid of him.