Murder [and Baklava] (A European Voyage #1)- Blake Pierce Page 0,13
in a pronounced English accent. “So glad you could make it. A lovely name for a lovely lady. Charmed, I’m sure.”
London said, “I’m honored to be aboard, Captain Hays.”
“Jolly good!” the captain said. “We’ll have more time to get to know each other during the voyage. I’ll do everything in my power to make your stay here a happy one.”
He ducked back inside the bridge to continue conferring with his staff.
“Come on, let’s take the stairs,” Elsie said.
London followed Elsie down spiraling steps back to the Menuetto deck. They took a quick look at the lounge in the bow of the ship, which had plush furniture and huge windows with a wonderful view of the river. A familiar melody wafted through the lounge speakers. Elsie couldn’t name the piece, but she was sure that it was by Mozart.
“This is the Amadeus Lounge,” Elsie told her. “I’m the chief bartender here,” she added proudly. “I’ve got a staff of four—or is it five? Anyway, it’ll be enough to make me drunk with power. I’m really going to enjoy bossing people around.”
“I’m sure you will,” London replied with a grin.
They passed back through the reception area into a passageway lined with staterooms. Pointing to the signs on the stateroom doors, Elsie said, “You can see we’ve got a theme for the higher-class rooms and suites—music of the Danube.”
London saw that the rooms had names on them: Liszt, Haydn, Schubert, and other composers of the Danube region. Elsie used a keycard to open the “Beethoven” grand suite. London immediately heard a lovely piano tune that she recognized from childhood—“Für Elise,” she thought it was.
The suite was large and luxurious, with a separate seating area and a balcony. It was decorated with hints of early nineteenth-century Vienna, including pages from music scores.
“I’ve never seen a suite this large on a boat,” London said.
“Yeah, but I’m not sure I’d want to honeymoon here,” Elsie said, pointing to a large portrait of Beethoven over the bed.
London gazed at the composer looking down with crossed arms and a frown of seeming disapproval. He didn’t look like he was in any mood for romance.
“I guess he was known for being cross and cantankerous,” she said.
“Yeah, well, there aren’t any pictures of Beethoven smiling and winking as if he’s purring ‘ooh-la-la.’”
As they went back into the hallway, Elsie said, “There are just two of those grand suites. Also some smaller suites and very elegant staterooms on this deck.”
London followed Elsie down more spiraling stairs to the next level—the Romanze deck. It had mid-sized staterooms that were named after other musical legends—Brahms, Bartok, Johann Strauss II, and even the Trapp Family Singers.
They looked into the lavish Habsburg Restaurant, where tables were perfectly set in preparation for the next meal, then back to the stairs and down another flight to the lowest level—the Allegro level.
The rooms here didn’t have any special names, and Elsie escorted London to a door with the number 110 on it. But when Elsie opened that door, London was startled to see where her own baggage had been left there for her.
“Oh, my!” London gasped. “The deckhand must have brought my bags to the wrong room!”
It was a single room, small but only slightly less luxurious than the suite she had viewed two decks above. It actually more impressive than some of the cheaper passenger quarters she’d seen on her ocean voyages.
Elsie took London by the arm with mock concern.
“London, sit down. I’ve got something to tell you that might cause you some alarm.”
She nudged London over to the bed and helped her sit there.
“I know this is going to come as a shock,” she said, “but the deckhand didn’t make a mistake, and you mustn’t faint or pass out or anything like that. This is your room. Yours and no one else’s.”
On the pillow beside her, London saw an information folder with her name on it, a room keycard, and an ID badge that read:
LONDON ROSE
SOCIAL DIRECTOR
“Oh, my!” London said again.
“Not quite like the old days, is it?”
“No, it’s certainly not,” London said, catching her breath.
Back when she and Elsie had worked together on cruise ships, they’d often been quartered in windowless rooms with bunk beds and two or three other hostesses.
This room had a queen bed and was decorated in shades of soft gray and blue. The narrow, high window gave her a very nice view.
“You’ve even got a private bath,” Elsie informed her. “With a shower.” She walked over to a closet and opened