Chapter Two
Welcome Aboard
Commander Adam Bricker M.D., Lieutenant Burl Smith and Cruise Director Julie McCoy usually position themselves in the Pacific Princess' Purser's Lobby on the Promenade deck as the hundreds of guests board. While their attitudes may appear casual, it's a studied, practiced casualness designed to put guests at ease while they perform their duties.
Bricker is a tall man, thin and heading toward eventual gauntness, who revels in his image as the ship's Lothario. Some would say he took up medicine for the opportunities it afforded for close feminine examination until the time comes when he must put those skills to work. Then the mask comes away and the Physician is revealed. As adept in the healing of the heart as of the body, he is also the one first approached when a confidant and advice are needed.
McCoy, particularly at this time, serves as the official welcomer and hostess, facilitator and resolver of problems. She and her staff - which includes the Captain's nineteen year old daughter Vicki - are charged with being certain that guests are attended to, from knowing where their cabins are to providing for their last minute needs. A perpetually young and svelte woman whose pixie hair frames a face the word love was coined for; she is the ship's heart and the one who ensures that the ship's nickname will be felt by her guests. Her staff assists now in the duties of greeting and assigning boarding guests at the two other entrances, one above this deck, the other below. Left to accomplish it alone, even if that were physically possible, she would be able to devote no more than a few seconds to each of hundreds of therefore aggravated guests.
Purser Smith, known to the crew by the descriptive moniker of Gopher, can evoke such an image for its free and fun joy of life in all its forms. He perpetually offers the image of a befuddled man who somehow knows everything that goes on about him. In addition to being responsible for seeing that outstanding balances are settled and additional fees for last minute changes are calculated and agreed upon, he generally makes certain that any reasonable amenities are provided to a myriad of guests.
Commander Adam Bricker views each person as he or she boards, evaluates potential medical needs on the fly and learns who bears watching even before he must become inquisitive.
His Nurse Barbara Copeland performs the same duties on the Fiesta deck, the ship's second most popular gang plank below. It's not a perfect system, but between them they manage to evaluate the majority of the passengers.
That these men and women can perform these varied and highly important duties while appearing to do little more than exchange greetings and small talk is testament to their skill and expertise.
x
A young couple, tall man with blond hair and wire frame glasses and a petite, black haired Asian woman step down from the entryway. They're dressed quite casually as most guests do, blue shirt and tan slacks for him, yellow blouse and blue shorts for her.
"Good morning," Julie says with professional enthusiasm. "Welcome aboard the Pacific Princess." She readies the clipboard containing the alphabetical list of cabin assignments. "I'm Julie McCoy, your Cruise Director. If I may get your names, I'll direct you to your cabin."
"James and Michelle Palmer."
She pages to the appropriate sheet. "Ah, yes. Doctor and Mrs. Palmer. You're on the Aloha deck; that's two levels down on the starboard side, cabin 193." She points to her right to the conveyance beside the port passageway. "You can take the elevator right over there, then cross over to the starboard side."
"Doctor Palmer?" the Commander hadn't missed her emphasis. "Doctor Bricker. Welcome aboard."
"Thank you." They shake hands.
"G.P., or do you specialize?"
"I cut up dead people." He points to the woman beside him. "She makes them that way."
Professional smiles are de rigueur, but Julie's slowly self destructs despite her best efforts. Gopher doesn't do as well; his crashes.
Mrs. Palmer slaps her husband's arm before telling them "I'm a Federal Agent - a non-violent one, I promise. He's a Forensic Pathologist," she sees by Julie's expression that she hasn't gotten through. "A Medical Examiner. When he's not being funny."
"Oh."
Julie and Gopher do recover their aplomb quickly, but she feels a twinge of jealousy in that Adam had never lost his.
"Well, enjoy," Gopher says. "No cutting up anything but the steaks now."
"Thank you," they say, looking slightly stunned. Julie struggles to keep her mortification off her own face, suspecting at this moment that the feeling probably means death by embarrassment and expecting the need to be examined by the tall man if Gopher says one more word.
The couple says nothing, however, they just proceed to the elevator, the woman glancing back as though to be certain they're not being followed.
"Medical Examiner and Federal Agent," Gopher says, irrepressible as ever as he turns to Bricker. "I hope you won't need their services."
"Not likely." 'Although Julie might and you almost certainly will," he adds silently. He has no fears for himself, however. As close as it has been on a few occasions over the years, he's never had any guests who hadn't left under their own power.
x
The five women and four men wearing dresses and business suits average in their forties save for one white haired gentleman was could be a very well preserved seventy and another man who could pass for twenty five, while the smallest of the women, at five one, looks young enough that Isaac might have to card her before serving her but that might be an effect of her height. All have the air of long familiarity.
Even before they reach her Julie, who has never met them before, has identified them from forwarded Professional Head Shots and from too many tension filled conversations. The woman at the head of the group is large enough for any two and heads them up like the prow of a ship.
"I'm guessing you're the Hannigan Players," Julie says to the woman she has come to know via telephone as "Mrs. Dale Hannigan?"
"That's right," the black haired woman in the royal blue dress declares imperiously, clearly accustomed to speaking for her party. "You are Ms. McKay?"
"McCoy."
"Of course," she says with the distinct air that Julie may be McCoy if she really wishes to.
Julie turns to her colleagues. "Gentlemen, may I present 'The Hannigan Players' of Miami, Florida?"
"A pleasure," Doctor Bricker says.
"Yes," Hannigan says, then returns her imperious gaze to Julie. "You will escort us to our accommodations."
"Sorry," Gopher says, trying to ease tension the woman has brought aboard as though she's opened a sea gate, "we have no accommodations, only cabins." 'And guests usually find them themselves' is left unsaid.
"Please forgive him," Julie says, "we don't let him out much."
"Yes, I can," the extra large woman silently sniffs, "understand why." She returns her attention to the hostess and commands that "You will assign sufficient Stewards to attend to our trunks and luggage being unloaded from the truck at the dock."
"How much did you bring?" Gopher asks. Normally guests - who do not issue Commands - carry aboard an average of two pieces of luggage each for the week long cruises. With laundry services provided as part of the fare, this is usually sufficient.
For an instant it seems Hannigan is going to ignore the question, then though an inch shorter she says down to him "Only nine Theatrical trunks plus twenty eight pieces of luggage. Just the essentials."
x
Before Gopher can open his mouth to insert another foot into it, very likely with a 'Wow', Julie tells him that "The Hannigan Players are performing tomorrow evening's Dinner Theater." She points to her right to the large sign standing upon an easel near the entrance to the Promenade deck's port passageway beside the curve of the stairs that ascend from their left. The poster board's color scheme is designed to draw the eye to the large announcement.
Glittering silver on black, ornamented with fireworks that fairly burst from the announcement, it proclaims that the group will perform 'Murder on the High Seas' tomorrow evening at 7:00 p.m. in the Acapulco Lounge on the Riviera deck. There will be two repeat performances at Monday's dinner and the Wednesday lunch to allow for sufficient seatings.
Hannigan's is one of the two captioned portraits displayed in the lower corners, the other a light brown haired young woman.
"No, that positively will not do at all!" Hannigan declares in staggering outrage.
"Excuse me?" Julie inquires. Her phone conversations with the imperious woman had rarely gone smoothly but she'd taken copious notes and is sure things have been successfully arranged.
"Look at that sign tucked way over there where no one can see it!"
"Now, Dale," the man standing behind her right shoulder, whom Julie knows from the captioned headshot photos to be Harold McCabe, interjects smoothly, "as one of the five signs we forwarded, I'm sure the Commander and the Lieutenant placed it exactly where the Captain ordered."
"But I'll be very happy to display it more prominently," Adam Bricker offers, crossing the large room to collect the easel. McCabe gives Hannigan a 'there, wasn't that easy?' look.
x
"Not before you remove THAT!"
Bricker halts and turns, wonder etched upon his face. The woman is pointing past him to the placard but the outrage in her strongly projected voice has turned every head on the deck.
"I beg your pardon?" He's quite unused to being addressed in such a tone. Commander's rank aside, it is staggeringly rude.
"You should beg." He's about to return to prescribe something less tasty than Caster oil when she hisses through clenched teeth "Get - that - off - there."
He glances back at the offending poster but finds no week old squid carcass plastered to it. He looks to Julie for enlightenment but finds none.
He does, however, find it in another woman's face. The light brown haired young woman, the one who looks just out of college, now looks like someone is using a whip on her. She's suffering terribly, more than embarrassment, and her face is slowly crumpling.
He glances to the poster and reads her name on the headshot portrait as Meredith Tate.
At another time he would certainly attempt to get acquainted with her; to ease her distress, preferably with a hug, but this is decidedly not the moment.
"This man belongs up there," Hannigan proclaims in imperious tones that could be heard on the bridge, and the gentleman in question looks no more pleased by the attention, though far less emotionally battered by the loud declaration. "He is the Star."
x
Julie steps out into line between the woman and the poster. She recognizes the man indicated as the star from the forwarded headshots to be Charles Maxwell, credited in the Playbill as the Detective and she hopes she can resolve this tiny faux pas smoothly. Resolving it quietly in Hannigan's presence is unlikely.
"I have to accept-" she cuts off. The petite young woman's humiliation is palpable and a misspoken word like 'blame' or 'responsibility' might shatter her tenuous control. "In reading your Playbill listing the Cred–"
"Those are Legal documents that unfortunately I have no control over. I do have control over this. You will correct your mistake immediately, put up the right picture and burn that!"
At the word burn, it looks to Julie that the woman has driven a stake through the other's heart.
Julie tries to recall every word in the Princess Cruise Line's Employee Manual on the care and accommodation of all guests while at the same time mentally declaring she will do no such thing to the younger woman's very flattering image. In fact, looking at the other picture adhered to the board, she imagines she sees Hannigan's image looking out at her very much like the picture of Dorian Gray.
x
"And how shall anyone find us?" Hannigan demands, moving on to her next protest.
To Julie, who has had too many phone conversations with the woman over the past nineteen days, both ship-to-shore and while in LA, protest, outrage and complaint seem to be the woman's sole methods of self expression, and she makes full use of any actress' training in volume and projection.
'Try Hell's Yellow Pages under 'Harpy'.'
"Oh, don't worry about that," Gopher advises. He's the only one unscathed thus far, so he tries to be the next facilitator.
"Indeed." Hannigan says and Julie wonders where she'd developed the technique of sniffing without an inhalation. Probably in the same place, trying to avoid the sulpher and brimstone.
"No, Madam, every gu–"
"I am not a Madam!"
"Iiiii... beg your pardon." He's never collided with that particular misunderstanding with a guest. "As I was going to point out, every guest is provided with a foldaway map," he glances at his long counter to his right, where fifty of the brochures lie in two neat stacks if a guest should forget or misplace the one sent via mail, "of the entire ship, with copies posted in passageways and elevators."
"You don't say."
Gopher wishes he hadn't. Time to wrap this up; his services must be needed elsewhere - such as in Engineering stoking a furnace. "The ship is laid out with the guests' decks, from lowermost, being Aloha, Fiesta, Promenade where we are now, Coral, Lido, Riviera and Sun. The d-"
"Only seven decks? On a ship this size?" She turns to the man at her right and slightly behind who had moderated the last problem. "I thought this was to be a Luxury Cruise ship." There's a definite accusation of failure on the man's part.
Gopher tries his best to clarify. "Accessible to guests, yes Mmmm. Yes, Ms. Hannigan. The deck maps show everything you need to find, including the Acapulco Lounge on the Riviera Deck."
She slams her fists onto rotund hips. "Do you always talk so much?"
x
Bricker, who has probably made all the medical evaluations of this group that he needs to and likely considers prescribing blood pressure medications for both Julie and Gopher, returns from setting the announcement between the elevator and the port Passageway, directly in sight of passengers as they embark but still out of foot traffic.
Julie quickly consults her clipboard. The lists are kept alphabetically but groups are sub-listed for convenience, a practice she now views with the deepest and most heartfelt gratitude.
"Now, I see you're all on the Coral Deck, port side, right up those stairs: Mr. Peter Finch, Cabin 50; Ms. Dale Hannigan, number 60; Ms. Erica King, number 48; Mr. Charles Maxwell, Cabin 52; Mr. Harold McCabe, 58–"
"WHY are all the cabins so spread out?" Hannigan demands. "We reserved ADJACENT cabins!"
"Those are adjacent, Ms Hannigan. You–"
Do not take that tone with me, young lady!"
x
Julie takes a slow breath, clenches her left hand under the clipboard and digs her nails into her palm while reminding herself that Captain Stubing does not like fists used on paying guests.
"No, ma'am," she says in tones that she feels ought to win her a Tony. "You are on the Port side of the ship. All the cabins on Port are evenly numbered such as Ms. Judy Paulsen in number 54; Mr. Michael Simmons, 56; Ms. Ann Stern number 46 and Ms. Meredith Tate-" She pulls herself short.
Meredith Tate, the woman portrayed in the contested headshot, is listed in Aloha 377, lowermost thus three decks down from the others, on the Starboard side and near the stern. She scans the alphabetical sheets with a practiced eye, finds that Adam Cummings is listed in Coral 44 but that he hasn't checked in yet. She squeezes her eyes closed several times, returns to the group listings and squints at the paper. "Doc, you really must check on my contact lens prescription; they were due here yesterday."
"Sorry, I'll get right on it. They'll be here before we sail, I promise."
"Thanks," she looks to the youngest of the women. "Ms. Tate, you're in Coral 44."
Surprised at the depth of surprise on Tate's face, she ignores the hostile glare Hannigan gives her. An actress, she thinks, should have more practice and control over which emotions she shows and how. At least she managed to position them furthest apart in the cluster. The rest of the tour they'll have to work out amongst themselves; but she's already seen enough to expect that's not going to work.
"They're all right up those steps." She indicates the curving staircase behind them with the sincere hope that they'll use it.
x
As the group departs for said staircase, Bricker leans slightly closer. "Good catch."
"Thanks," she whispers. "You too."
"Been married four times. But what was that all about?"
She looks to the poster, from which the Doctor has removed neither picture, then back up to her friend. "I don't know. The materials arrived with poster boards, pictures and the little Playbills, but there was no mention of who to put up, so I went with the Company Owner and what I thought was the logical second choice based upon the Playbill. I used the others for the boards in the Lounges and the Pirate's Cove. How was I supposed to know I was starting Pearl Harbor all over again?"
"Look, calm down, forget it. We only have five hundred more passengers to get through."
"Right." But she does take a deep breath and tries to exhale Hannigan.
x
Forwarding a message via a passing Crewman to her staff checking in passengers at the other two entryways about the Tate/Cummings transfer, she turns with a well rehearsed smile to greet the next couple who approach for assignments, a tall brown haired man and a striking redhead.
She tries to morph the mask smile into a genuine one by reminding herself that this couple bears no blame for Hannigan and deserves none of the fallout. In fact they seem a lot nicer, seeing how their smiles are more sincere than hers had been.
He wears a casual brown slacks and sports jacket combo, she a green dress that highlights her fiery locks.
Julie gives her standard welcome, unable to shake the feeling that she recognizes the man, though not from an earlier cruise. Those people she has trained herself to recognize more reliably, aided by a large database well reviewed against the passenger list before each cruise. In fact, no one who has ever sailed with the Pacific Princess before is on this cruise.
x
The man opens his mouth to give his name but Gopher cuts in from the other side of Bricker. "Thom E. Gemcity."
She turns, would normally rebuke him for interrupting a guest but his enthusiasm was too great. "What?"
The Purser looks at her like she's grown a second and third heads. "Thom E. Gemcity, the Bestselling Author of Deep Six, Rock Hollow, Cearbhall's Quest and... and..."
"Thus far, that's all of them," the man says, in equal measures flattered and humbled. He is, in fact, deeply into his fourth book, 'The Other Locked Room', and is determined to make great progress this week.
"Six seconds on board," the woman at his side tells him with a honeyed Irish brogue, "and already your cover's blown."
"Shav-"
"Told you it wouldn't work."
"Now? Now you're going to give me your first 'I told you so'?"
"I've given you others, a grá; you just missed them." The Gaelic endearment comes out 'ah raw' to English accustomed ears.
He turns to Julie. "Look, my name's not Gemcity."
"He means on this cruise, honey," his companion interjects kindly, slipping her arm through his.
"Of course, Mr. Gemcity," Smith agrees with a 'Celebrity Secret' wink.
"What is the name you're using this time, sweetness?" the redhead asks him. "I keep forgetting. McGregor?"
His glare by no measure wilts her smile. "McGee."
"Oh, yes, that's the one." She looks to the trio. "I really must remember if I'm going to guard him from his legions of adoring fans."
Julie scans the alphabetical list so quickly the pages nearly tear. "Here we are, you're here on the Promenade deck, that's right through those doors, Reverend and Mrs. McGee, Cabin 238."
No one takes note of Meredith Tate, alone and midway up the curving stairs, as she turns from leaning halfway over the rail and hurries upward.
x
"What?" the red haired woman on his arm exclaims, her distress sharp. "'Reverend'? How could you?"
"You're traveling Undercover as a Priest?" Gopher asks.
She turns to the Purser, enlisting his aid. "Oh, that would never work. Talk about conspicuous!" She turns to the beleaguered man, his arm still entwined in hers. "You in bathing shorts and that funny white collar. And imagine if someone wants you to hear their Confession."
"She's right, sir," Gopher says. "Now if you want to be inconspicuous, I recommend-"
With but a thread of patience left, he reaches out. "Ma'am, may I see that list?"
Julie hands it over, hoping for a resolution in this rather than in the Afterlife. He finds the listing with a look of intense disgust and turns to the redhead.
"Someone's going to get Gibbs-slapped."
He hands the board back to Julie, but sounds like he's trying to erase the aggravation from his tone. It's not her fault after all. "It should read 'Reverend and Mister McGee'." He cocks his thumb to the woman at his side. "She's the Reverend."
The red haired woman extends her hand to Julie, the closest one to her. "Siobhan," she greets ber, pronouncing it 'Sha-vawn' in her honeyed brogue.
"Julie." Perhaps this can work out smoothly. The taller woman does seem more at ease than her husband.
"So what are you?" Gopher asks. Julie wants to smack him.
"Jumping overboard." But then he draws up. Julie realizes it's likely because he knows Gopher hadn't deserved the snide answer any more than she'd deserved his frustration. They're trying to do their jobs and straighten out the confusion. "Sorry. I'm a Federal Agent."
x
"Oh, I'd be careful with that one, sir," Gopher says. "We already have one aboard."
Now she truly wishes he'd had kept his peace, preferably somewhere else except this is his Lobby. They'd very nearly resolved everything. The man reaches into his back pocket and pulls out a leather case, shows them his gold badge, then drops ID cards with practiced ease to cover it. "There're going to be a lot more of us. Special Agent Timothy McGee, NCIS."
"Oh, boy," Bricker's tone is a foreshadowing of doom. Julie wonders just how far down one morning can go. NCIS, the Sea Police.
"Oh, I wouldn't let it worry you," Siobhan says kindly, reaches into her purse and pulls out a similar case with a nearly identical shield. "I have one too, except I'm the Chaplain rather than an Agent." So says the bar on the gold metal badge.
"At this rate," Gopher says, "I'm going to need your assistance."
"Guaranteed," Julie says, her tone one of dire warning lest it become Last Rites.
"You say," Bricker says, trying to keep the conversation on track with his concern, "there will be more of you?"
"Five Agents in all, plus guests - and we are on vacation, not here to work. Now you said Promenade 238?"
"Yes, sir," she tells him, anxious to have this over. "Right through those doors."
"See you later," he promises with greater kindness than he'd managed during the confusion.
When they're gone, the three let out pent up breath, disaster averted. Or has it been? The Captain will need to know this ASAP. The good news; there will be only five Naval Agents aboard.
The bad news; there will be five Naval Agents aboard and they've already managed to aggravate the second of them.
x
A gray haired man accompanied by two younger women step onto the deck level and approach with two wheeled cases each.
"Good morning, sir, ladies," she greets them as the younger women flank the man by a half step back, expecting no further greeting this morning could as bad as the last two.
"Gibbs, Leroy Jethro," the man says politely, his smile saying 'I am on vacation and I might even enjoy it', "Sciuto, Abby and David, Ziva"
"Now this is what I was saying," the woman on his right admonishes. Julie can't miss the large spider and web tattoo prominent on her neck and wonders how anyone can sit still through that kind of pain - or would want to. "You're here to relax, and the first words out of your mouth are Name to be closely followed by Rank and Service Number.
"Abby," he tries to chastise her but the woman has already turned her attention to them.
"Please forgive dad. The last time he unwound was before Woodstock."
"Oh, don't worry," Julie says, trying to ignore the glare the man gives his daughter, "you'll all have plenty of relaxation aboard."
"See, father, it is as I told you, "the woman on his left says.
"We may even be able to arrange some companionship," Gopher offers.
"He is quite partial to redheads," the woman assures them, ignoring the glare turned her way.
"I'll see what I can arrange," Julie assures him. "They don't call this 'the Love Boat' for nothing."
Gibbs takes a half step closer, perhaps to clamp onto her attention, raises one finger and gives a slow, firm head shake while the two women, each behind him now, nod in anticipatory affirmation.
x
Their cabin assignments are given, Lido deck starboard, one daughter in the forward of four sections, the other daughter in the second section a few cabins from the father, with no further hardship. They're not especially close but not overly far from one another. Julie has a feeling the man, Gibbs, will settle matters with his daughters later.
She suspects however, knowing this ship's history, that they'll be the ones who'll win.
x
In the meantime she makes a mental note about redheads but excludes the married priest from the list. Not only would it be wildly inappropriate - sort of on the Gopher level of mistakes - but she certainly doesn't want Mr. Gibbs to run afoul of the woman's husband, an NCIS Agent.
Beside this very important consideration, whenever she works to link passengers she tries to keep reasonably within the same generation and Gemcity's - McGee's - wife looks of an age with Gibbs' daughters.
x
Thinking of young, a young couple approaches from the entryway, whom she greets as enthusiastically as the previous guests. However, the enthusiasm is not reflected in the couple. "Good morning. Joseph and Mary Wagner."
Julie notices before she consults the clipboard that the blonde woman, perhaps 20, looked anywhere but at any face as the introduction was made. "Yes, you're in the Honeymoon Suite; Sun 69. That's four decks up, Starboard side. Take the elevator right there; when you get off cross the deck and turn left into the passageway. It'll be... ten doors down on your right."
"So, Honeymoon," Gopher says. "Just had the happy day?"
"Yes," the woman says, looking down toward his polished shoes, her voice down on the Aloha deck. "The date was yesterday."
"Sun 69, you said?" Her husband is, if anything, considerably less enthused.
Julie repeats the directions and the couple, carrying their luggage, heads toward the elevator.
"Wow," Gopher says when the doors close, "they look as thrilled to be married as you would, Doc."
"No, Goph, I'd manage to summon up a fake smile until I reached the cabin."
Julie is about to mention a need to keep her eye on these newlyweds when a man and woman approach.
x
"Good morning," the man says with enough élan for themselves, the newlyweds and several other couples. "Anthony DiNozzo and Dr. Jeanne Benoit," he says, presenting the French name as 'Shon Benwa. "I believe we're booked into the Admiral's Suite."
Julie gives him a 'nice try' smile while Bricker presents himself to his colleague, probably confident she can't be another Medical Examiner. She's confident of nothing this morning but she does try.
"I'm sorry, we don't have an 'Admiral's Suite', but we do have," she scans the D's, "Cabins 105," a faster scan to the B's, "and 109 on the Fiesta Deck." She notes each of these are marked with an asterisk. They're one of several potential sets of cabins scattered throughout the ship and the mark shows an activated selection. "They're on the starboard side and they're interconnected cabins, one deck down. Take the elevator over there."
"Fiesta," DiNozzo says to Benoit, his warm tone accompanied by a very significant gleam in his eyes.
#/#/#/#/#
Author's Note: Tim McGee likes to adapt the 'Case Files of L.J. Tibbs' from the real cases of L.J. Gibbs, so 'The Other Locked Room' is taken from the Case File 'Accused', which you will find in my FanFiction dot Net Profile.