Chapter Six – A Shell Game (of sorts)
Frankie and Finn all but skidded to a stop outside of the stateroom reserved for Joe DiMaggio where a housekeeping cart stood in the hallway. The cabin door was open, and a maid was busily humming in the bathroom. The room service trolley was in the center of the room, its top shelf loaded with baseball-related paraphernalia.
Finn leapt into the room and whipped back the curtain draping the trolley. “Gone.” His hands shaking with worry, he strode out into the hallway to speak with Frankie, “What now?”
Before Frankie could answer, Finn shrieked in surprise at the sensation of a hand grabbing his ankle. Looking down, he saw a wrist poking out of the maid’s cart. The wrist bore a Mickey Mouse watch with moving arms and a red watchband. He recognized it as belonging to Chuck.
Frankie spoke slowly and quietly. “You distract the maid. I’m gonna wheel this cart to … well I don’t know where exactly.”
“What if there’s still someone guarding our cabin?”
Another hand poked out from the lower level of the cart. This time it was Maggie’s, and it was holding a map of the ship. Frankie took it and unfolded it. A section was marked: Closed for Refurbishment. And a blue circle was drawn around the words Smoking Lounge. “Perfect!” he said, then turned the map this way and that. “So which was is port?”
Finn huffed and grabbed the map. “And you call yourself a pirate! You have no sense of direction whatsoever.”
“Never much liked taking directions,” Frankie quipped.
“Save your jokes for later when everyone is out of danger. You work your charms on the maid. I’ll meet you back at the cabin.”
With that, Finn took off with the cart. The exertion made him sweat in his tuxedo, and the sweat made his moustache begin slipping off. Once he made it to the part of the ship that was closed, there were no sounds other than the waves, the gulls, and the occasional creak of the ship. No people were there. No laughing. No talking.
“This place is eerie,” he whispered, slowing down to consult the map for the location of the old smoking lounge.
Rolling slowly through the corridor in search of their destination, he stopped at last in front of a pair of double doors across which was a length of tape marked: Off Limits. Finn looked both ways, then yanked the tape off and opened the doors.
The lounge resembled a scene from a movie about an abandoned haunted house, with furniture covered in white sheets, a bucket of construction supplies and a saw in a corner, and a bar with plenty of glasses but no bottles of liquid to pour into the glasses. “You can come out now,” Finn said as he pulled a sheet off a pair of arm chairs and wrapped it around the door handles to prevent them from being opened from the outside.
“Not bad,” said Chuck as he crawled out from the housekeeping cart and surveyed the room.
“Yes, this should do nicely,” Maggie concurred.
Betsy merely belched.
“I better see to getting you kids some dinner. Fortunately, if Betsy gets fussy, there’s no one around to hear her in this remote part of the ship.”
“Where are we supposed to sleep?” Chuck asked.
“Umm …” Finn scooted a boxy overstuffed armchair around until it was facing its partner and pushed them together. “There, that should work.”
“We certainly have enough bed sheets,” Maggie commented. “And we can use the throw pillows for our heads.”
Finn nodded as he wandered around the room. “I think you picked the perfect spot, Maggie.”
Maggie curtsied.
Opening a side door, Finn smiled. “There’s a restroom. That’s a relief … no pun intended. All right, Robinsons. I’m going to head out now to see about getting you some food. Back soon … Make yourselves comfortable in the meantime … and bar the doors!”
Chuck took a running leap over the side of a chair into its seat. “No more trunks or trolleys. I could get used to this!”
Finn unwound the sheet around the door handles and exited the room, closing the doors behind him. For added precaution, he pulled a deck chair in front of the doors to discourage anyone from entering. Just then a thought occurred to him, so he moved the lounge chair aside and walked back into the smoking lounge. “I was just thinking we should probably … Hey, you didn’t bar the doors!”
Maggie’s head popped up from behind the bar. “I’m looking for something simpler than an unwieldy sheet.”
“Fair enough. Okay, see you kids soon.”
“What is it you were thinking, Mr. Finn?” Maggie asked.
“Thinking?”
“Yes, when you just came in, you said you were thinking we should …”
“Oh! Yes, that. I was thinking we should have a code knock so you know it’s us when Frankie or I come calling. Don’t want you having to hide every time you hear someone at the door.”
“That’s a good idea.”
“How about shave and a haircut, two bits?” suggested Chuck.
“Too obvious,” Maggie remarked. “How about the four beats at the beginning of Beethoven’s Fifth?”
Chuck scratched his head. “Four of the Fifth? So is that four or five knocks?”
“Hmmm not sure that would sound any different than four regular knocks,” Finn said. “But I like the idea of a song rhythm.”
“Very well, how about the opening of Mozart’s Eine Kleine Nachtmusik?”
“Iny tiny who?” Chuck said.
Finn knocked as he spoke. “One. One two. One two three four five six. Yes! I think that could work! You certainly are bright for your age, Maggie. Any age, really … Margaret.”
She scooted her glasses up her nose. “I like to stay informed.”
Betsy began grumbling and squirming.
“Looks like I better get going on that room service order right away! And you’ll bar the door, yes?” Finn again departed, pulling the lounge chair in front of the smoking room doors.
After taking a few wrong turns, he made it back to their stateroom where a new crewman had taken up guard duty in the hallway. Finn held his hand over his mouth to conceal his moustache that was now hanging by a corner.
He nodded to the crewman then entered the room to find Frankie lounging blissfully. “You sure look in high spirits. I would have expected you’d be out of sorts after missing most of a twelve-course dinner.”
“Not to worry, I rang up room service and instructed them to deliver the courses we missed.”
“That reminds me, I need to call to order some things for—”
“All taken care of, dear boy. I ordered French toast, a fruit compote, shirred eggs, cinnamon toast, pan-fried breakfast hash with eggs, a V-8 cocktail – and before you ask, no, there is no liquor in it – a stack of buckwheat cakes, and three sides of bacon.”
“Three sides? I don’t know if little Betsy eats stuff like that yet.”
“Betsy schmetsy, the bacon’s for me!”
“Well in any event, that was very thoughtful of you, Frankie.”
“It’s on Wills’ tab anyway, so …”
A knock came at the door before Finn even had time to sit down. “Wow, that was fast for such a big order!” When he opened the door he was surprised not to find a room service waiter, but a maid carrying a stack of board games.”
“Oh, I think you have the wrong cabin,” Finn said.
“Those the games?” Frankie called.
Finn’s eyes enlarged. “Yes, but—”
“Come right on in!”
Finn looked at the pile of games, then opened the door wide. “He says come on in.”
“Where should I …” asked the maid as she looked around the now messy suite.
“On top of the credenza would be great,” Finn said.
The maid set the games on the sideboard, then stood waiting.
“And add two dollars tip to our tab,” Frankie remarked.
“Very good, sir!” replied the maid as she hurried from the room with a happy smile.
By the time Finn explained where the kids were stashed and how to execute the agreed-upon secret knock, someone else arrived at the door (knocking without a code).
“Room service,” called a voice from the hall.
“Come on in,” Frankie hollered.
The attendant opened the door and pushed in the trolley, his head turning this way and that as he appeared to be looking for something. “Zees ees a very large order of food for just two gentlemen,” he said in a thick, put-on French accent.
“We missed most of dinner,” Frankie replied.
The man left the trolley in the middle of the room then marched into the master bedroom and pulled up the bed skirt to look under the bed.
“Anything we can help you with, friend?” Finn asked.
“Where are they?!” demanded the cruise constable, dropping the shoddy French accent.
“Where are what?” Finn asked.
“Not what, who? Where’s that kid?!”
“I thought no kids were allowed on this cruise,” Finn remarked innocently.
“We were assured a child-free vacation,” Frankie chimed in. “If it turns out you allowed any ankle biters on this ship, I’ll be demanding a refund!”
The constable turned and stormed out, grumbling and kicking one of the wheels on the room service trolley. “This isn’t over yet!”
“I should hope not,” Frankie called out with a chuckle. “This is far too entertaining.”
Finn made quick work of laying out the food for themselves and adding the board games to the trolley. Frankie made quick work of moving through three courses of the dinner items.
Another knock came at the door.
“Your turn,” said Frankie as he took a large bite of Dauphinoise potatoes.
“Somehow it’s always my turn,” Finn muttered as he got up to answer the door.
“Housekeeping,” said a tall robust maid in a high singsong voice as she swept into the room carrying an armful of towels. She immediately set the towels down on a chair and made a beeline for Finn’s room.
“Hey, aren’t you forgetting the towels?” Finn called out.
She closed the room’s door behind her, and Frankie and Finn looked at one another in curiosity as sounds of thumps and thuds and clatters came from the room.
“Everything all right in there?” Finn called out.
The maid stomped out of the room glowering while pulling off a wig and ruffled head piece. “Where are they?!”
“Why constable, is that you?” Frankie asked in mock astonishment. “I never could have guessed. And why are you dressed as a maid? Do you often dress this way at work? No judgement.”
“You haven’t heard the last of me!” he snapped as he tramped out of the cabin.
“Can’t wait to see what you come dressed as next,” Frankie called after him.
Finn quietly closed and locked the door. “That guy’s never gonna let up, is he?”
“Doesn’t seem like it. Which is all the more reason to keep the kids safely tucked on a deserted part of the ship.”
“True, but how are we going to get this stuff to them without arousing suspicion? We can’t just wheel a trolley full of food and board games around without the constable noticing.”
“You’re right. We can’t. You go distract the fellow on guard duty. Leave the rest to me.”
“I have no idea what you’re talking about, but at this point, anything goes!”
Finn left the cabin to make small talk with the crewman posted outside their door. A couple of minutes later, Frankie emerged with the food trolley, dressed in the room-service-waiter uniform. When he got to the end of the corridor, he turned to continue on, stopping just long enough to exchange a glance with Finn.
Finn took the hint and said to the crewman, “I think I’ll head up to the Observation Deck and get some fresh air. He then meandered down the hall, picking up his pace once he’d turned the corner.
There he found Frankie slowly pushing the trolley. “I have no idea how to get to the smoking lounge you mentioned.”
Finn gave Frankie detailed instructions which Frankie immediately forgot. Finn explained again, this time more slowly. Frankie was still mixed up. Finally, Finn pulled a pen from his breast pocket and wrote the directions on Frankie’s hand. The two then split up so as not to draw attention at the sight of a supposed movie star walking the halls with a room-service attendant.
A few moments later, Finn arrived at the smoking room. After moving the lounge chair, he rapped on the door using the knock code.
“Who goes there?” Chuck called out, endeavoring to make his voice sound deep and commanding.
“It’s Finn.”
The sound of metal on metal preceded the door opening.
“How’d you secure the doors?” he asked as he entered and closed the door behind him.
Maggie held up a C-clamp. “I found this carriage clamp in the bucket of construction tools.”
“Clever as always. You guys settling in all right?”
“I guess,” Chuck said. “It’s better than the trunk, but there’s nothing to do, and my stomach keeps growling.”
“Well we should be able to remedy that in just a moment … that is, if Frankie hasn’t gotten himself lost!” Finn busied himself opening cupboards and looking out the portholes. “This place is better than our suite!”
Just then a loud thud came at the door where someone was apparently kicking it.
“Everyone, hide!” Maggie whispered loudly.
“Umm, room service?” Frankie called.
As Finn opened the doors, Frankie pushed the trolley in, his smiling face red from exertion. “I think you kids are gonna like what we’re serving up. Board games and breakfast.”
“Breakfast for dinner? Oh boy!” Chuck cheered.
Maggie took a glass of chocolate milk off the trolley and placed a straw in it to hand to Betsy. Betsy began sucking on the straw in closed-eye contentment.
Frankie grabbed a slice of cinnamon toast and took a large bite.
“Hey, that’s our breakfast!” Chuck protested.
Frankie handed the plate containing the remaining five pieces of cinnamon toast to Chuck. “Plenty more where that came from.”
Chuck stuffed a whole slice of the toast in his mouth at once.
“So whaadaya think, Frankie?” Finn asked. “Pretty nice digs, eh?”
“You bet! At least until the ship takes on war refugees and a hundred people pile into this part of the boat.”
Chuck immediately choked on his toast.