Death (and Apple Strudel) (A European Voyage Cozy Mystery—Book 2) Page 2

“Um, Mr. Tedrow—I’m the one taking care of the dog.”

  “You?” Tedrow said.

  “Yes, you see, I … well, my own stateroom is next door, and since Mrs. Klimowski died, there’s no one else to take care of the dog.”

  “Somebody died?” Tedrow said with surprise.

  London was startled. Had the man been so isolated here in his room that he had no idea what had happened during the last few days? Hadn’t he even read the letter she’d written to inform the passengers Mrs. Klimowski’s death—the one she’d put in all the passengers’ mailboxes?

  Apparently not, she realized.

  And he didn’t seem to be at all curious about it, either.

  “Well, it’s none of my business, I suppose,” he said with a shrug. “What matters right now is that you do something about that dog.”

  “Mr. Tedrow, Sir Reggie’s just a little dog. Is he really too noisy for you? Once he gets used to things, surely he won’t complain so much. I’ll bring you over and introduce him to you. I’m sure you’ll like him.”

  “I need peace and quiet,” Tedrow insisted. “What is he barking about anyway?”

  “He likes human company. And he likes to run around. But I can’t take him wherever I go. I have to leave him in my room sometimes.”

  “Why?”

  London was startled by the question’s abruptness.

  “Can you blame him for not wanting to be shut up like that?” Tedrow added. “Why don’t you just give him the run of the ship?”

  London was about to explain about how Sir Reggie needed access to the food and dog potty when she suddenly wondered something.

  Why not give him the run of the ship?

  Maybe there was actually a way she could do that.

  “I’ll see what I can do,” she said.

  “You do that,” Tedrow said. “As long as the dog shuts up, I’ll be happy. I don’t care who lives next door.”

  He sat down at an out-of-date-looking computer on his table, apparently anxious to get back to work at something.

  London took a look around at the room. Like most of the other staterooms on the Allegro deck, this one was almost identical to hers.

  It was hardly as luxurious and spacious as the rooms on the upper levels, but it was much, much nicer than the cramped, windowless quarters she’d shared with other employees while working as a hostess on oceangoing cruise ships. While hers was pleasantly decorated in shades of soft gray and blue, Mr. Tedrow’s room décor was a range of earth tones. His little table was mostly taken up by the computer and a small printer, and a few books were scattered on his queen-size bed.

  It was a perfectly nice room. But she was worried by the solitude of its occupant.

  “Um, Mr. Tedrow—is everything else OK? Aside from my dog, I mean?”

  “Why do you ask?” he asked without looking away from the computer screen.

  London swallowed uncomfortably.

  “Well, as the ship’s social director, it’s my duty to make sure that everybody aboard the Nachtmusik is perfectly happy.”

  “Don’t worry, I’m perfectly happy,” Tedrow growled. “Or at least I will be after you do something about that dog.”

  London peered at him curiously as he kept staring at the computer screen.

  He sure doesn’t sound perfectly happy, she thought.

  She figured it was her job to draw him out, get him to talk to her a little.

  “What did you think of Gyor?” she asked.

  “Why, did we stop there?”

  London’s eyes widened with surprise.

  “Yes, we did,” she said. “We just left there last night.”

  “Well, I knew the ship has been sitting still most of the time since we left Budapest, but I’d sort of forgotten all about the itinerary. I don’t much care about it, if you want to know the truth.”

  What do you care about? London wondered.

  She tried to hide her worry behind her best professional smile.

  “I hope you’ve at least enjoyed some of the amenities aboard the Nachtmusik.”

  “Amenities?” he asked, as if he didn’t understand the word.

  “You know—features, luxuries, activities.”

  “Such as?”

  London peered at him with growing concern—and growing curiosity.

  “Well, surely you’ve checked out the Habsburg Restaurant up on the Romanze deck. Or the swimming pool and outdoor activities up on the Rondo deck. Or the Amadeus Lounge on the Menuetto deck. You know, we’ve been adding some casino features to the lounge—”

  “Sorry, not interested,” Tedrow said with a dismissive wave of his hand, still staring at his computer screen.

  London was baffled. Surely Mr. Tedrow had explored the ship at least once since the beginning of the journey. But since then …

  Has he been outside this room at all?

  She noticed a tray of mostly eaten breakfast also on the table where he worked. Perhaps he’d had all his meals delivered here since they’d left Bucharest. It suddenly occurred to London that a passenger could spend the entire Danube tour cooped up in one’s own stateroom.

  But why would anyone do that?

  And wasn’t it up to her to coax such a passenger to get out and around?

  But Mr. Tedrow was obviously a prickly character, so she knew she’d better be careful how she went about drawing him out.

  “Mr. Tedrow, if you don’t mind my asking …”

  Tedrow growled as if he did mind.

  London continued, “What have you enjoyed most about your trip so far?”

  “The privacy,” he said, scowling at her. “At least most of the time. And the quiet—at least when I’ve been able to get it.”

  “And?”

  He pointed to the high window, which was open.

  “The fresh sea air,” he said.

  London squinted with perplexity. She had no doubt that Mr. Tedrow knew perfectly well that the Nachtmusik was on a river tour, and that the ship hadn’t been at sea since they’d left Budapest.

  Now he’s just trying to annoy me, she thought.

  She was determined not to let him succeed.

  “Mr. Tedrow—” she began.

  “If you don’t mind, Miss Sociality, I’d like to get back to enjoying myself.”

  He kept his eyes glued to the computer screen.

  “Just do something about that dog, OK?” he grumbled, drumming his fingers on the table.

  “OK, Mr. Tedrow,” London said, then left the room.

  When she closed the door behind her, she stood in the passageway trying to process the strange visit. She remembered something he’d said.

  “Don’t worry, I’m perfectly happy.”

  Might he have really meant it, despite his grouchy tone? Was it possible that Mr. Tedrow really was enjoying the river tour in his own peculiar way? Maybe so, London thought, but she wondered whether he couldn’t have had just as good a time by staying home.

  She quickly reminded herself of her own professional motto.

  “The customer may not always be right, but the customer is always the customer.”

  It surely wasn’t up to her to change Mr. Tedrow’s solitary ways. It was his choice, after all. She couldn’t exactly drag him kicking and screaming into all the entertainments, pastimes, and diversions of a luxury tour boat.

  Besides, London had another pressing concern at the moment. She went back into her room, where Reggie welcomed her eagerly.

  “I’ve got an idea,” she said. “You and I have an errand to run.”

  As she attached a leash to his collar, she added, “I’m going to try to fix things for both of us. But you’ve got to be a perfect little gentleman, as adorable as you can possibly be. You can do that, can’t you?”

  Sir Reggie let out a little yap of what sounded like agreement. She led him out into the passageway, where he trotted toward the elevator in front of her. They took the elevator back up to the open-air Rondo deck.

  As soon
as they stepped off the elevator, London was surprised to hear a small burst of applause. The people playing on the shuffleboard court had stopped playing and were expressing their delight at seeing Sir Reggie.

  As if daunted by this warm reception, Sir Reggie jumped up into London’s arms.

  “There he is—our hero!” shouted a woman.

  “The fearless Sir Reggie!” exclaimed a man.

  Another woman laughed. “We can all breathe easier, knowing that Sir Reggie is always here to save the day!”

  As passengers started to cluster around him, poor Reggie didn’t seem to quite get what the fuss was about. But London understood. Word had gotten around the ship about Sir Reggie’s courageous behavior yesterday, and he was now rather famous aboard the Nachtmusik.

  “Get used to it, kid,” she murmured to him, scratching his head. “You’re now a celebrity.”

  She couldn’t help feeling amused that she herself wasn’t getting the same kind of acclaim after having solved the mystery of Mrs. Klimowski’s death.

  Maybe if I was just little and cute …

  But she decided it was just as well that people still seemed to still regard her as London Rose the social director, and not as London Rose the intrepid sleuth. It made her job a little easier.

  Meanwhile, London took comfort in the reception Sir Reggie was getting. Whatever else might happen, he wasn’t going to get evicted from Nachtmusik. With his popularity, any attempt to get rid of him would result in a scandalous ship-wide uproar.

  Also, if it turned out that she couldn’t keep Reggie in her own room, there would be other people who would be thrilled to take care of him …

  London felt a sudden alarm at that idea.

  No, she thought.

  He’s my dog now.

  He’s no one else’s.

  My plan has to work, she thought. It just has to.

  CHAPTER THREE

  Although Sir Reggie was obviously enjoying all the attention, London knew that she needed to keep moving. The demands of her job left little time for taking care of personal issues. She had to solve this problem right now so she could stop worrying about losing her dog.

  Carrying Reggie away from his fans, she headed for the ship’s glass-enclosed bridge, which towered over the Rondo deck. She climbed the steps to the bridge and knocked on the door.

  As she expected, she was greeted by the portly Captain Spencer Hays, an Englishman whose walrus-style mustache couldn’t begin to hide his smile of delight at her arrival.

  “Why, London Rose! What an unexpected pleasure! Come in, come in!”

  London realized she’d never actually been on the Nachtmusik’s bridge before. It was an awe-inspiring sight, with the Afro-French First Officer Jean-Louis Berville overseeing the three crew members who manned a vast bank of computerized controls while overlooking the river ahead.

  And as it happened, London was in for a bit of luck. The captain had another visitor—the ship’s lanky maintenance chief, Archie Behnke. The young blond mechanic was adept at fixing anything with moving parts.

  Just who I need to see, she thought.

  The captain’s eyes widened at the sight of Sir Reggie.

  “But—good lord! What’s this? Do we have another animal aboard?”

  London laughed at the captain’s confusion.

  “No, this is still Sir Reggie,” she said.

  “But what a transformation! Why, he scarcely looks like the same creature! What on earth has happened to him?”

  Of course, Captain Hays had seen Sir Reginald Taft only one other time, and that was back when the little dog’s hair had been long enough to drag on the ground. He’d looked to her like a weird wig with eyes and a little black nose. London thought that such glamour might have been appropriate for a former show dog, but she hadn’t liked it much, and even Reggie had never seemed especially comfortable that way. After his near-drowning, London had taken him to the Nachtmusik’s beautician for a shampoo and a serious do-over.

  “We’ve given him a new look,” London explained to the captain. “It’s called a ‘puppy cut.’”

  “Jolly good!” Captain Hays said. “It suits him well.”

  “Now he looks just like one of the crew,” Archie Behnke added.

  London laughed, then carefully broached the subject she’d come to discuss.

  “I’ve been keeping him in my room,” she said. “But it’s not working out very well.”

  “No?” the captain said.

  “I can’t spend every minute with him,” London said. “And he doesn’t like being shut up alone.”

  “Of course he doesn’t,” Captain Hays said with a stern nod. “He’d rather be out and about tracking down international jewel thieves. And it’s a waste of his talents as far as the rest of us are concerned. He’s got important work to do here on the Nachtmusik. We can’t do without him.”

  London was relieved at the captain’s sympathetic tone. Before she could make the request she had in mind, the maintenance chief spoke up.

  “It sounds like you need a doggie door,” Archie said.

  London held her breath for a moment. A doggie door was exactly what she had planned to ask for. But would such a thing be allowed?

  “Yes, I think that’s exactly what I need,” London agreed, a little shakily.

  The captain wiggled his enormous eyebrows.

  “A doggie door?” he asked. “Please explain.”

  Archie shrugged.

  “Oh, I’m sure you’ve seen such a thing before,” he said. “It’s just a square hole in the door for the dog to come and go. It’s got a flap on it that can be latched at night. And for a dog Sir Reggie’s size, it can be very small.”

  “Capital idea!” the captain proclaimed.

  London looked back and forth between Archie and the captain. This was sounding almost too good to be true.

  “Do you think it will be OK with the passengers?” she asked.

  Of course, London already felt as though she knew the answer to that question. She only hoped the captain would agree.

  “The passengers?” he said. “They’ll be thrilled to see him at large. Just the sight of his fearless visage will inspire them with a feeling of safety and confidence.”

  London was happy to hear this, but there was still another matter she felt obliged to mention.

  “The thing is … how do I … I mean do I need to get permission from …?”

  “From someone high on the corporate ladder?” the captain said with a scoff. “Oh, I hardly think so. We’re just cutting a hole in a door, that’s all. We’re not talking about carving some gaping cavity in the boat’s hull. Besides, you happen to be in very good stead with our CEO. I’m sure you have his tacit approval for pretty much any measures you think to be necessary. I can let him know the next time I talk to him. Of course it will be all right.”

  London smiled. She was sure the captain was right about that. Yesterday Jeremy Lapham, the CEO of Epoch World Cruise Lines, had called her from the U.S. after she’d solved the mystery of Mrs. Klimowski’s death.

  “Congratulations and cheers and kudos are definitely in order,” he’d said.

  Of course a simple doggie door would be all right with him.

  London felt her eyes misting up. Everything was going to work out just fine. She could keep her dog! From now on, Sir Reggie would have a better life, and she would have a trusty companion.

  Archie got up from his chair.

  “My guys and I will get right to work on it,” he said. “It’s nice to have something simple and straightforward to do after some of the odder demands we’re getting from the passengers.”

  “So you’re getting some strange ones?” London asked.

  Archie scoffed.

  “Oh, most of them are reasonable. But your concierge told me about one guy who wants me to … well, never mind. It can’t be done, and I told her so.”

  Something about Archie’s words rang a bell with London, as if she’d heard somet
hing about that complainer before.

  She gave Archie her keycard so he could get into her room and start working. Then she and Archie both left the bridge and headed off on their respective ways.

  With Sir Reginald trotting along with her, London took the stairs two flights down to the Habsburg Restaurant. The large room in the bow of the Romanze deck provided elegantly set tables of various sizes and arrangements for the passengers to choose as they pleased. The tables placed near the large windows almost created the feeling of eating outside.

  As Sir Reggie entered the restaurant ahead of her, he got another round of applause from customers having a late breakfast. A few got up from their tables to come over and make over the little dog. This time Sir Reggie seemed unalarmed and didn’t jump up into London’s arms.

  He’s getting to like all this attention, London realized.

  As London had hoped, her old friend Elsie Sloan was sitting at a table enjoying a cup of coffee. The tall blond woman was in charge of the Amadeus Lounge and was taking a break after setting up the bar with her staff. As London and Reggie each took a seat at her table, she was visibly amused at the fuss over the dog.

  “You’re getting upstaged, honey,” Elsie said, laughing. “It’s an old rule of show business—never go onstage with children or animals.”

  A familiar male voice said, “Sir Reggie is no animal. He’s an elite security guard.”

  London turned and saw Bryce Yeaton approaching the table wearing his white chef’s uniform. She was always happy to see his warm smile, and she found his gray eyes, dimpled chin, and stubble of beard quite attractive. Like many of the crew, the handsome Australian had more than one job, doubling as the ship’s head chef and chief medic. He’d helped save both London and Reggie from drowning while the police had taken the escaping culprit into custody.

  “My mistake, Reggie,” Elsie said to the dog. “Let me know if you want to put in some extra hours as a bouncer.”

  “Are customers getting rowdy on you?” London asked wryly.

  “Not yet, but it’s only a matter of time.”

  London knew that Elsie was joking. So far, most of the passengers on this voyage seemed to be quite content. Of course, it was up to London to keep them that way.