The predinner cocktails were being served in the spacious Grand Lounge adjacent to the dining salon. At the entrance, a photographer had set up his camera and a backdrop showing the railing of a ship against a star-spattered sky. There, at eight P.M., the Commodore would begin to pose for pictures as the cruisers filed into dinner.
The walls of the lounge were decorated with a variety of framed articles and photographs, all of which were a testament to the philanthropic efforts of the honored guests. One woman, Eldona Dietz, had been chosen because the newsy Christmas letter she sent out detailing every single activity of her children’s lives for the past twelve months had won an award from a family magazine. An enlarged and framed version of the letter was displayed prominently on the wall. To make sure no one missed it, a smaller version was a centerpiece at all the cocktail tables.
The Commodore was speaking in a low voice to a flustered-looking Dudley, and it was obvious he was not happy with whatever Dudley was saying.
“The reason we only have eight Santa Clauses here is because two of the suits are missing, sir.” Dudley had planned to try to find the perfect moment to break that news, but unfortunately the Commodore had already counted the bearded and costumed figures Ho-Ho-Hoing through the room and instructed Dudley to tell the other two to hurry up and get in there.
“How could two suits be missing?” the Commodore demanded. “The door to the supply room was locked, wasn’t it?”
“Yes, sir.”
“Was the lock picked?”
“No, sir.”
“Then unless I’m delusional, someone with a key entered the supply room and stole the costumes.”
“That would seem to be the case, sir.” Dudley watched as the Commodore made a visible effort to control the outrage that was making his eyes send out sparks.
“My feelings are hurt, Dudley. Someone is trying to ruin our Santa Cruise. My blood is beginning to boil. This should have been reported to Eric if you couldn’t find me.”
“Sir, by the time I knew the suits were missing you were dressing for dinner, and I haven’t seen Eric since the lifeboat drill ended.”
“He was in my suite. I don’t know what’s keeping him now. He should be here. Not a word of this to anyone! I don’t want the guests to get wind of the fact that we have a thief in our midst. They’ve already witnessed one of our waiters trying to escape arrest. Where did you hire these people from? A penal colony?”
“Yes, sir, I won’t discuss this and no, sir, I didn’t hire our employees from a penal colony. . . .”
Across the room, the four Reillys were sitting at a cocktail table. Regan was observing the byplay between the Commodore and Dudley. “I think Commodore Weed is giving the cruise director a hard time,” she commented.
“He’s the guy who fell off the rock-climbing wall, isn’t he?” Luke asked.
“Yes, and I gather he was in charge of hiring that waiter who jumped ship.”
“How did you find that out already?” Jack asked.
“When we were sitting around waiting for the boat drill instructions to start, you and Dad were debating who would be the nominees in the next presidential election. I overheard a couple of the junior officers talking about the guy who took the dive off the ship—”
“And I thought you were hanging on my every word,” Jack said.
Regan ignored the interruption. “Those junior officers said the hiring was a joke. Dudley never did the hiring on the other cruise lines where he worked. It’s not the job of the cruise director. They said he had to do it because the Commodore’s nephew, Eric, the guy whose room Alvirah ended up in, was supposed to handle it and didn’t. Dudley got stuck with finishing the job at the last minute on top of having to handle the guest list.”
Jack pulled the newsy Christmas letter from the centerpiece. “The guest who wrote this must be really interesting. ‘In the last twelve months it’s been so exciting to watch Fredericka and Gwendolyn blossom into lovely young ladies. Violin lessons, gymnastics, singing, dancing, bird watching, etiquette classes, baking organic fat-free pies, etc., etc. . . . But all their activities have not prevented them from being conscious of their fellow man. We have a number of elderly neighbors whose doorbells they ring every morning to make sure they survived the night. . . .’
“Thank God they don’t live in our neighborhood,” Luke drawled. “These kids aren’t on the ship, are they?”
“Don’t look now,” Regan muttered as two young girls ran past their table, a matronly woman in pursuit, calling out, “Fredericka! Gwendolyn! Give Mommy and Daddy back their champagne glasses!”
Jack tucked the newsletter back into the centerpiece. “Regan, promise me we’ll never send out one of these.”
“Duly noted,” Regan agreed.
Nora had been studying the poster-sized picture of Left Hook Louie that was hanging on the wall nearest their table. “He was the nicest guy.”
“Who?” Luke asked.
“Left Hook Louie,” she explained, as she pointed to the poster. “He was a prizefighter who became a best-selling mystery writer. I did a signing with him when I was new and he was well established. He had a long line and I only had a few stragglers. He stood up and said to the crowd that he had read my book and loved it and anyone who didn’t buy it should step aside and go a round with him right then.” Nora laughed. “I sold a hundred books!”
Regan and Jack stared up at the poster. They both had the same thought. Left Hook Louie bore a startling resemblance to Tony Pinto, whose picture they had just observed on the computer screen.
“Do you know if he had any kids?” Jack asked Nora.
“Not to my knowledge,” Nora answered. She glanced at the door. “Oh good, here are Alvirah and Willy.”
The Meehans, Willy in a tuxedo like all the other men and Alvirah in a white silk jacket and long black skirt, were coming across the room and heading toward them.
“Sorry!” Alvirah said. “But for once I’m not the one who’s late. Willy started playing solitaire and was convinced he could beat himself. By the time he knew it was a lose-lose situation, he only had a few minutes to get ready. Isn’t that right, Willy?”
“You’re right as usual, honey,” Willy said amiably. “Alvirah found a deck of cards in the night table drawer, and I started fooling around with them. They’re not new, so we figured they belonged to the Commodore’s nephew. But we just bumped into him at the elevator, and he told us he hates cards. I’ve got them in my pocket in case anyone wants to play later.”
The Commodore started tapping against the microphone and blew into it. “Attention! Attention! It’s time to give out the Santa Cruise medals to all of you who have given of yourselves so generously this past year.”
“First I’d like to call up everyone from the Readers and Writers group. It humbles me to be in their presence. . . .”
Dozens of hands shot into the air, waving empty glasses to signal the waiters for a refill. It was clear that the Commodore was just warming up. One by one, he placed medals hanging from ribbons around the necks of each member of the Readers and Writers group. All the people who had donated to charities, including Alvirah, were next. Finally, when the medal was placed around Eldona Deitz’s neck, her husband and children were beside her. The eight- and ten-year-old girls, unable to contain their excitement, were jumping up and down.
“Aren’t you proud of your mommy?” the Commodore asked.
“We did all the work,” Fredericka yelped. “Mommy likes to sleep late. Daddy has to bring her coffee every morning or she can’t open her eyes.”
Eldona grabbed her daughter by the elbow and smiled at the Commodore. “Fredericka is our little jokester. Aren’t you, dear?”
Fredericka shrugged. “I don’t know,” she muttered.
Finally the Commodore called up the ten Santas, two of whom were without costumes. “A little mix-up,” the Commodore explained to the crowd, “but all of these ten wonderful men will be running around the ship in these Santa suits for the next four days.”
“God help us,” Luke said under his breath.
As the Commodore put the medal around Bobby Grimes’s neck, an obviously inebriated Grimes grabbed the microphone. “I should be wearing a Santa suit right now,” he growled. “But there’s a thief on board this ship. Watch out everybody! Anybody who would bother to steal two of these crummy outfits will have a field day with your cash and jewelry!”