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 something 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.
At the moment, she felt pretty happy with the job she’d been doing. For example, yesterday she’d suggested that Elsie set up a roulette table in the Amadeus Lounge. And just this morning, she’d helped Elsie and her staff set up a blackjack table there. A section of the bar was getting transformed into a sort of makeshift casino that promised to be extremely popular.
“What can I get for you this morning?” Bryce asked London.
“Coffee, of course. I’ve already had breakfast, so maybe something sweet to go with the coffee.”
Bryce smiled at her—a bit flirtatiously, London thought, or maybe hoped.
“May I suggest our apple strudel?” he said. “It seems fitting now that we’re heading for Vienna.”
“Apple strudel would be nice,” London said.
“Coming right up,” Bryce said. “What have you got planned for lunch?”
“I may have to skip that,” London said. “I’m going to be on the run all day.”
“How about a sandwich to go?”
“That would be nice.”
Bryce took a small bag out of his pocket and took out what looked like a small cracker.
“I cooked up something just for you, Sir Reggie,” he said, holding the treat in front of the dog. “Want it?”
Sir Reggie let out a yap, and Bryce tossed the treat to him. The dog caught the cracker in midair and gobbled it down.
Bryce smiled at London.
“I’m always prepared to please customers of all kinds,” he said.
London felt her own smile broaden as he headed back to the kitchen.
Elsie leaned across the table and said to London, “Do I detect some romantic sparks in the air?”
London rolled her eyes.
“Elsie, when are you going to learn to mind your own business?”
“Never.”
London stifled a sigh.