life and we’re going to London. That’s it.”
“Don’t tell me you’re in on this.” Carol turned her eye on Roy junior, and although not turned to stone, he didn’t move, mumbling, “We’ll meet you at the airport in Oslo. It’s only a week.”
“Only a week! Only a week! Exactly! One week out of your life to do something for somebody else. What am I
going to tell the relatives?”
Priorities were being set.
“We don’t even know these people and we don’t care. They probably don’t care, either.” Lynette’s voice was just as loud, but her tempo was faster. “It’s our honeymoon and we’re going to see where Princess Di lives.”
“Princess Di!” This was the last straw. This was not what people did on honeymoons. Princess Di was no role model.
The whole room had grown quiet as everyone watched the scene unfold before them. Several people were smiling. After the events of the last few days, this comedy of errors was a positive relief. Neither Carl nor Jan had appeared to break the fight up and it continued to roll forward, taking on a life of its own, a final anecdote to entertain the folks back home when they sat captive watching the video of “our trip.”
“Well, don’t just sit there.
“I don’t have anything to say. Let them do whatever the hell they want,” he said, and left.
Carol wasn’t going to give up. Abandoned by husband, son, and daughter-in-law, she was going down fighting.
“I never thought I would see the day when a child of mine, my only child, would turn on me like this. You go have your little trip and miss meeting some of the nicest people you would ever have known. People who were going to take you into their home. Your Norwegian family. You go and have fun looking at all the sights. Don’t forget the Tower of London, either,” she shot at Lynette. “You ought to feel real comfortable there.”
She’d gone too far.
White-faced, but with a slow grin spreading across her face, Lynette said, “I was saving this news for when we got home, but I think now’s as good a time as any to tell you, Mother Peterson.”
“No, honey!” Roy junior, suddenly mobilized, went to his wife’s side. “Not now, sweetheart. Come on— you
promised!”
“Promised what?” Carol liked to know things.
“Nothing, Mom. Let’s all go pack and get down to the boat.”
“Promised I wouldn’t tell you that he’s been promoted and accepted a transfer to New York City in three weeks,” Lynette announced coolly.
The room braced itself.
Carol said, “New York City?” in a “Did I hear correctly?” kind of voice. New York City? That hellhole? That crime-and vice-ridden capital of corruption? That New York City? Come again?
“Yes, New York City. We’ve already rented an apartment.” Lynette did not bother to hide her triumphant smugness.
“I’d like to go to my room, son,” Carol said regally, reaching for Roy junior’s arm. “I think I’m going to throw up.” Leaning heavily on him, she slowly made her way out, a battleship that had taken a direct hit but, against all odds, stubbornly stayed afloat.
“I’d say she took it rather well,” Ursula said.
Marit nodded.
“
As Ursula and Marit rapidly left the room—the Peterson scene had taken valuable time and it had been too fascinating to leave—Ursula remembered Lynette’s words to Pix in the sauna at Fleischer’s Hotel. She’d predicted correctly. Carol had not liked what was coming one bit.
Inspector Marcussen was in the lobby, holding an envelope that he hastily stuffed in his pocket.
“The tour group will be leaving at eight o’clock and we’re going to say good-bye to some of the friends we made. Would you care to stroll down that way with us?” Ursula asked.
“I’m sure Officer Jansen would like to come, too,” Marit added, nodding at the pleasant-looking rounded- faced young man.
Now what were they up to? Johan Marcussen wondered. They made it sound as if they were inviting him to coffee or some such social outing. And who had called Fru Rowe in the middle of the night? The clerk had gone home, so he didn’t know whether the person had spoken Norwegian or not. But surely if it had been her daughter, she would be saying something, or betraying her obvious relief. Both women looked the same as yesterday, and the day before. Calm, slightly detached, well scrubbed.
“Yes, I’m sure we would be happy to come with you.” Nothing better to do, that was for sure, and he had intended to watch the boat leave.
Ursula was carrying some envelopes. “Tips. The staff have gone out of their way to make this a memorable trip.” Some more than others, to be sure, but there was no envelope with his name on it.
Outside the hotel, Ursula turned to the
At the dock, Kari had gone to the small market and bought them some juice, rolls, and yogurt when it opened. No one seemed very interested in them and they continued to sit where they were, ducking out of sight behind the unlighted bonfire only when Captain Hagen came down to the ship.
Busboys from the hotel brought several large wagons filled with the luggage and slung it on board. Kari and Pix kept their gaze fixed on the one and only path from Kvikne’s to the dock.
Safety in numbers? Virtually the whole tour, even Carol Peterson, who did look as if she’d thrown up—pale and wan—arrived at once with Carl, Jan, Anders, and Sonja—so many sheepdogs nudging the flock along one last time. Marit, Ursula, and the police brought up the rear.
Pix looked at Kari. Kari looked at Pix. “Now,” she whispered.
They emerged from behind the mountain of wood and paper awaiting a Midsummer Eve torch.
“Hello, Carl—and everyone else,” Kari said in English.
“I’m glad we didn’t miss you,” Pix said, standing in front of the young man. “Although you may not be so happy.”
Carl looked about desperately and started to walk toward the road out of the village. The police had moved in close. He decided to bluff.
“Why, Mrs. Miller, Kari, you’re safe! Everyone has been so worried!”
Jan joined him. “It’s a miracle. But what happened? Where have you been? How do you know each other?” He had the feeling he had missed several important chapters. None of it made sense, but things were looking a whole lot better for the tour evaluations. He liked working for Scandie Sights. The oil company’s office was boring.
Jennifer Olsen came running toward Pix and threw her arms around her. “I thought something terrible had happened to you, to both of you!” She grabbed Kari.
“Something did. Tell them, Carl,” Kari ordered.
“I have no idea what you’re talking about, and if Mr. Harding is going to make his plane, we really must leave now.”
“Not so fast. Why don’t you show the police what you have hidden in the closet on the boat?” Pix suggested.
Carl smiled. He looked relieved. “I have no idea what you’re talking about, but of course the police are welcome to look at anything they want on the boat.”
“What’s going on?” Helene Feld asked.
“Are we leaving or not?” Sidney Harding complained.
“I think we’ll just take the time to look in this closet and then I’m sure you’ll be able to be on your way,” Marcussen assured them.
Pix and Kari led the way on board, followed by Carl, who was managing to let several in his immediate vicinity know that he thought both women were clearly unbalanced. Pix looked to be of a certain age, he whispered to Don
