The German Intrigue

By Paul Davis,M.D

A cruise ship officer with a shady past makes the job of a ship’s doctor much more complicated, especially when people start dying. Dr. Alan Mayhew and his girlfriend, Tiffany, work with the eclectic passengers, the CIA, MI5, and the crew in sleuthing out the truth behind the murder mysteries. This does not stop the developing romance, nor the humor that everyday life behind the scenes on a cruise ship engenders.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Austin Macauley
• Release date: Aug 31, 2018
• ISBN: 9780463592830

Paul Davis,M.D

“Paul Davis’s Cruise Ship Crime is a new breed of mystery-crime novel. Crime dramas usually follow established formulas quite closely. This [series] breaks the mold and brings something new by telling a ripping good medical detective story in the sealed-off, closed floating world of a ship on the ocean. It is an exciting, fast-paced tale with complicated relationships and depth of character development in a fascinating setting where suspects and investigator cannot get away from each other. The author is a master who draws on deep personal experience. Paul Davis is the real thing. In real life, he is an internationally-known physician who has come to specialize in providing medical care on board cruise ships. He has seen a lot over the years and the experience is reflected in his work and the effortless way he turns the cruise ship into a self-contained social universe with deep secrets and seemingly infinite possibilities among the passengers on board. This [series] will enthrall mystery fans, crime drama addicts, medical drama fans, and compulsive travel book readers, alike.” — Tee Guidotti MD FACOEM FACP FRSOM Eminent Professor of Medicine, Past President American College of Occupational & Environmental Medicine.

Book preview

Chapter One

Around the World in 270 Days

Bursting through the front door, Tiffany shouted, Well, what did they say? Did they agree?

For the past two years they had been together, Alan couldn’t cease to be amazed at his own reaction when seeing Tiffany. It was as if he set eyes on her for the first time, every time. Admittedly she was a gorgeous young woman, blonde with curls bouncing delicately over her shoulders, and one that was so attractive that Alan often wondered what she saw in him or why she hadn’t left him for younger pastures.

Tiffany didn’t stop rushing through the living room until she plopped herself down beside Alan. He was looking down at a world map that covered the entire surface of the coffee table in front of him.

Since Alan had received notification that he was to join the Gold Cruise for a nine-month voyage around the globe, he had used any and all contacts he knew aboard and off-ship to sway the powers-that-be to assign Tiffany on the cruise as well. In the event that his efforts proved fruitless, he had been considering the possibility of refusing the assignment. He could not see himself spending 270 days away from Tiffany. The only other option was to bring her along as his significant other, a guest. Of course, that would mean that she would get no income for almost a year, not something he would want to impose on her.

He smiled, gave her a peck on the lips and shook his head.

You’re shaking your head; does that mean the answer is no? Tiffany asked, switching her gaze from his profile to the map in turn. I suppose you wouldn’t be looking at a world map if the answer was no, would you? she concluded, shoving her bags aside and nestling closer to him, if that was even possible unless she went to sit on his lap.

Very good, Watson! Alan replied, throwing an arm around Tiffany’s shoulders and drawing her down to his chest. Not only did they agree, but they’re looking forward to seeing Tiffany Sylvan join the crew as the Children’s Entertainment Director.

You mean it? Tiffany yelped, straightening up to look into Alan’s eyes. You wouldn’t lie to me, Dr. Mayhew, would you now?

Alan chuckled. Lie to you? he mocked. That’s something I wouldn’t try. Maybe I would try teasing you…

And you have! Tiffany cut in.

Yes, I have, but you must admit it was all in good fun.

So, am I to conclude that we’re off to see the world in a couple of weeks or so?

Alan smiled. No, dearest, not ‘in a couple of weeks or so’, not even Jules Verne had predicted that to be possible on a ship.

Oh, you’re impossible! Tiffany blurted, giggling and disentangling herself from his embrace. You know very well what I meant.

I’m not sure… but do you think you’ll be able to stand my irresistible charm for nine months? Maybe one week would be enough for me to drive you completely crazy.

Maybe it will, but it will certainly take me that long, nine months I mean, for me to forget some of the craziness you’ve put me through during the last cruise we were on together.

Alan looked at her with arched eyebrows. And I enjoyed every bit of it, I must admit. And seeing you every night with a different dress… was simply amazing. He peered at the quizzical look on her face. He chuckled. Where are you going to put an entire wardrobe this time…? To travel for 270 days, it will take you more than two weeks to pack, I would imagine!

It won’t take me that long to pack! She looked at him as if offended at the mere suggestion. She shrugged and smiled. We’ll have to wear uniforms most of the time anyway…

Have a look, Alan said, dragging her closer to him once again and pointing to the map. These are all the ports we’re going to visit, and if I’m not mistaken at this time of year, we might encounter quite a few climate changes on the way…

Tiffany peered down at the red line that went across the map and to all of the ports where the passengers would probably spend anywhere from a few hours to a few days. "What about all these inland cities, how are we going to get there, let alone being allowed to leave the ship?"

I imagine they’ll take whatever mode of transport available onshore, Alan replied. I know some of those inland excursions will be included with the cruise, and I also know they’ll probably want the doctor to go along since there will be the majority of the passengers involved. I am only allowed to go on these, Alan went on, if a majority of pax goes. He looked into her inquiring eyes. So, I think we should encourage a lot of the passengers to take part in these tours. What do you think?

What happened to the people left on board? If you’re off ship for a couple of days and something happens to any of them?

Well, anyone left on the ship, will have to access the hospitals or clinics in the town if the nurse feels more extensive care is needed.

Tiffany nodded. She lowered her gaze. Something was still bothering her, Alan knew. But if we get all these passengers off ship, I’ll need an assistant to keep an eye on them… how about it, Tiff?

Her face brightened instantly. You mean it? I’ll be glad to follow you wherever you go, Master, she agreed teasingly, and returned to look at the map. What about Jordan? Why are we not going down at Tel Aviv instead?

This time Alan laughed outright. Why don’t we call the company and advise them that Miss Sylvan has another cruise route in mind…?

Tiffany pushed him with her shoulder. Yeah, right. But don’t you think it’s a bit silly to have a cruise land on the Israeli coast and then send all its passengers on a trip to visit Amman and Petra in Jordan? That would take us days…

We’ll see… since I haven’t received the planning folder yet, I can’t tell you what they have in store for us and with all the trouble in Syria, the refugees pouring into Jordan, they may well change the route.

Are they sending one for me as well? Tiffany asked, getting to her feet.

I should think so, yes. He looked up at her. Where are you going?

I thought I would prepare dinner for us tonight, she replied, grabbing her tote bags from the sofa. By the way, did you tell Alexa already?

Alan shook his head and looked down at his feet. Alexa Mayhew was his daughter, the pearl of his eyes. That twenty-something young lady was the spitting image of her late mother. She and Alan had spent a few years together after Jo Ann’s death, but when Tiffany came into Alan’s life, Alexa decided to move on. Tiffany was only a few years older than she was, and Alexa still held some resentment toward her father getting involved with a much younger woman. The age gap had never bothered either Alan or Tiffany, but Alexa wasn’t quite ready to accept their relationship. She would have been okay, she had said, with her father dating a woman of his own age, but Tiffany… no, she definitely didn’t see a ‘match made in heaven’ for them. Over the last two years, Alexa had come for a visit from time to time, mostly when she knew that Tiffany was gone on another cruise assignment, and had spent time with her dad.

Dr. Alan Mayhew was a retired medical practitioner who had spent nearly thirty years aboard cruise liners as the ‘Doc’ everyone loved and admired. He was an admirable fellow, to be sure, but one that had a determined streak about him and one that would certainly not get involved with women easily, especially when he had been married to Jo Ann for all those years. He loved her for as long as he had known her, and nothing had changed that until Tiffany came along.

I guess you want to wait until you receive the official assignment papers. In this business, one never knows what the powers to be will do in the few days before you get those papers, things can change completely! Tiffany suggested.

Yeah, Alan replied somewhat dismissively. He rose to his feet and followed Tiffany to the kitchen. And what, pray tell, is on tonight’s menu?

Spaghetti with a three-cheese sauce, not low cholesterol Tiffany replied, walking ahead of him.

What a beautiful little pair of cheeks, Alan reflected, watching her bouncing steps towards the kitchen counter.

As long as you watch the sauce; when it drips into your beard, you look like an old garden gnome… Tiffany added, giggling while unpacking the groceries.

That does it, Missy, Alan said, grabbing her by both shoulders and swiveling her on her heels. I don’t know what you’ve got in mind for an appetizer, but I think I’d like to find out all about it and about my gnome beard between four eyes…

You mean you want to interrogate me again?

And again, as many times as it will take to get you to talk, Missy, he replied, turning her around again and marching her in the direction of the bedroom.

Tiffany’s curvaceous body was always a sight to behold for Alan. He often wondered why he never got tired of seeing her undress. And tonight was no different. He helped her out of her shirt, kissing her shoulders as soon as they appeared from under their cover. She turned to face him and wrapped her arms around his neck while he shed his trousers, and slipped her skirt down to her ankles. The heat in this room is terrible, Alan thought, as he pressed Tiffany’s body against his. Their love making had always been fabulous. He couldn’t get enough of Tiffany’s delicious nipples, her long and insatiable body. She squealed with delight as soon as he began caressing her. She had this inexorable sensation to be transported to a place where the sun would warm her body and delight her with incredible love every time he would take her.

Alan was a strong lover and one that loved to please his partner as much as he wanted to take pleasure in Tiffany’s beauty. He never wanted to leave her unsatisfied or displeased. He needed the inner assurance that his virility was not going to fail him. Given his age, he made sure he kept in as perfect a condition as he could, not to disappoint her.

Tiffany was leaning against the back of her chair, glass of wine in hand, looking pensive. If our departure port is San Francisco, I presume we will have to fly there to join the ship, she stated.

Alan deposited his fork and spoon on his half-empty plate and wiped a small drip of spaghetti sauce that had been trying to escape down to his beard from his mouth. I think that’s a fair assumption, he replied. Why? Does that bother you?

No, not really, but I was just wondering if we could leave a few days before and spend a bit of time in that city. I’ve never been there, you know?

Alan raised an eyebrow and reclined in his chair; his napkin still in hand. Tiffany’s remark about his ‘gnome beard’ had stayed with him and he was now self-conscious of it. Was she beginning to dislike my beard? Maybe I should trim it back a bit more. It was strange to Alan how these little details about their likes and dislikes had a way of creeping into their lives. And changes would soon ensue, whether it was about appearance, manner of dress, or behavior. Alan had also noticed a few things that he wished he could change about Tiffany’s habits. She wore high heels everywhere they went, even on a leisurely evening walk. Her wearing of high heels most of the time delighted Alan, Tiffany had such a splendid figure that high heels only enhanced her deportment in all the right places, but they were also instruments of torture for the spine. Women do not realize how much damage their spine, hips, ankles, and knees sustain wearing their heels.

Well, my dear, if you haven’t been there, we shall leave as soon as we can, Alan concluded, returning to his dish of spaghettis. Aren’t you eating anymore? he asked, swallowing a mouthful and taking the glass of wine in front of him; waiting for an answer.

I’m thinking of my bikini, she finally said. Maybe I should take a swimsuit too. Because we’re going to visit all these wonderful places, but not once will we probably have a chance to swim… anywhere… These ship rules that try and keep crew and passengers separate are beginning to frustrate me, she declared, putting the glass down and returning to eating a few more bites.

For Alan who did enjoy swimming as a form of exercise, swimming or playing in the pool aboard the cruise ship, in front of all your patients, was certainly not at the top of his list of entertainment. Besides, he didn’t relish the thought of having Tiffany share a spot in the hot-tub in her string bikini either, even though it would be the only place she would be allowed to show some skin. However, if it were to swim with her in a secluded cove of the Mediterranean, that would be an entirely different proposition. He, too, drifted into silence at the thought and at the possibilities such a situation would offer.

What about the photo album? Tiffany asked, raising her head from her plate again. Making any progress?

Since Alan was one of the older cruise line employees, the company’s head office in Miami had asked him to gather a number of interesting pictures with a nautical theme to them, as they put it, from the officers and crew who were going to take the nine-month voyage with him.

It’s a slow process, Alan said. Some people must live as dull a life as you could possibly imagine. They’ve sent me baby pictures, wedding pictures, even hunting photos and one of a kid’s dad fighting a bear, but none that could be good enough for the company’s publicity campaign or even remotely portraying a nautical theme.

Have you got all of them now?

No, far from it. But some of the crew are still on assignment and won’t be back for days yet. And from their emails, I gathered that I won’t get the full complement before we leave.

Does the company need the selection sooner than that? Tiffany asked before putting the last forkful in her mouth.

Alan shook his head. No. They’re actually counting on my taking a few shots during this trip to complete the album.

Tiffany tittered. Why don’t they hire a photographer to do that?

Alan shook his head. You know how they feel about having photographers on board. They’re generally more of a bother to the passengers than anything else. And I don’t think that’s the sort of pics the company wants. They’re interested in the quirky and out of the ordinary photos, mostly of the crew, surprised in, shall we say, awkward situations. He wiped the last of the spaghetti sauce in his plate with a piece of French bread, ate it with visible gusto and wiped his mouth and beard once again.

You mean we’ll have to travel with a camera case everywhere we go? Tiffany didn’t sound too pleased at the prospect of either of them hauling a heavy bag of cameras, lenses, and all the rest of it on what could be one of the most romantic trips, an opportunity she didn’t think would re-present itself anytime soon.

Alan took the bottle of wine from the middle of the table and poured some of the delicious cabernet in both their glasses. I don’t want to do that either, Tiff. I was thinking of taking my powerful but very small digital camera, so that we wouldn’t be so conspicuous when taking surprise-shots of our subjects.

Tiffany nodded. It sounded now like a great idea. She loved the intrigue this little assignment called for. Friendly snooping was often the one thing Tiffany loved to do. On many occasions she had come up with the awaited answer to the mysterious behavior displayed by some of the passengers, just by sneaking or snooping around their private lives.

She remembered on the cruise where Alan and she met, she had ‘investigated’ many of the characters on board ship just by listening to their conversations. Other times she would just be utterly pleased with herself if she found out why a person did this or that. On that first cruise, in particular, there was this one lady who was ostentatiously difficult with every crew member she ever had to deal with. Mrs. Brightman was a pest, anyone who had ever met her whether on the cruise or in her neighborhood would have said so, but whenever the chips were down, Mrs. Brightman would be pointing the finger at a Mrs. Claphman, who, strangely enough, was usually nowhere to be found. However, when Tiffany and Alan had nosed about these two women’s business, they soon found out that Mrs. Brightman and Mrs. Claphman were one and the same person. Snooping had really paid off that time.

Alan had to smile to himself when he opened the Gold Cruise Lines’ envelope that had been delivered by courier the next morning. It contained the final itinerary of their cruise, and Tel Aviv was on the list.

Chapter Two

San Francisco

And there she was! Tiffany couldn’t believe it. Babette was sitting at a table near the window of one of the most expensive restaurants on the Fisherman’s Wharf.

Tiffany and Alan were waiting for the maître d’ to show them to their table when Tiffany pulled on Alan’s shirt sleeve. Do you think she’s going on our cruise?

Who? Alan asked distractedly.

Babette. She’s sitting over there by the window. Tiffany nodded discreetly in that direction.

Alan turned his head to look at the woman. I’ll be damned! he exclaimed under his breath. What else would she be doing in San Fran at this time of year?

Exactly. Or she’s putting on another play in the city, Tiffany replied, smiling.

I hope she’s not going to try roping me in to act in one of her plays, Alan whispered, lowering his head.

Babette was a renowned playwright who had the good fortune of seeing some of her plays produced on the stages of New York and San Francisco. She was a fascinating middle-aged woman and one whose good humor and happy disposition never abated whatever the circumstances. Her magnificent head of red hair, teasing green eyes, and inviting smile had probably smitten the most indifferent of men in her younger years. Inviting Alan and Tiffany to act in her plays had been a running joke between them. She was a regular passenger with the many cruises she took. Babette had become a ‘fixture’, so to speak, helping the cruise directors to produce a play on each of her journeys. When Babette was aboard, passengers and crew alike wondered which part they would be asked to play. In short, Babette was a character.

When their table was ready, the maître d’ came back. Please, Doctor, Madam, he said, extending an arm in the direction of a neighboring table to Babette’s, This way.

Babette turned her head when she saw the two of them coming her way. Oh my, she burst out, Look at what the cat dragged in! If it isn’t my two favorite people in the whole wide world? She stood up, reached for Tiffany with open arms and hugged her. And you, Doctor Mayhew… she added, releasing Tiffany from her embrace. Don’t tell me, you two have been assigned on one of these fabulous world cruises? She turned to the maître d’. Why don’t you arrange it so that we could have dinner together?

By all means, Madam, the latter replied, cracking a fake smile. Obviously the man didn’t like to have his tables re-arranged.

Do tell me… Babette continued with renewed enthusiasm, what are you doing here?

Well, we’re… Alan began.

You’re going on the Gold Cruise, aren’t you?

You guessed right, Babette, Tiffany said, looking up at Alan. And we’re looking forward to it.

What about you? Alan asked, Are you booked on that cruise as well?

You got it, Doc. Yes, I am. But it hasn’t been as simple as making a reservation this time round, I tell you…

There you are, Madam, the maître d’ interrupted, Your table is ready! He pointed to a well-appointed table in the corner of the restaurant."

Wonderful, my dear man, Babette replied, leading the way to the table in question. It afforded an unhindered view of the Wharf and the marina. This is excellent. Thank you, she added, sitting down.

Alan pulled Tiffany’s chair for her to sit facing Babette, and took the seat kitty-corner from her.

Why hasn’t it been simple for you to book yourself on this cruise, Tiffany asked, unfolding the napkin from her plate and putting it on her lap.

Alan was once again amazed at Tiffany’s beauty. She had chosen an elegant green dress for this occasion. The color suited her features to a ‘T’.

Well, I have quite an opportunity to put on another play right here, in San Fran, next fall. But that silly idiot of a producer wanted me to work on it from his farm in Arkansas…

In Arkansas? Tiffany queried, grinning. She truly could not see Babette staying on a farm anywhere for any length of time.

Yes, my dear, that’s exactly what I told him. Could you imagine me working on a play on a farm, and in Arkansas of all places? There was no way on earth I was going to accept that deal.

So, what did you do? Alan inquired curiously.

I told him what was what, that’s what I did, Babette replied, glancing at the menu. "I told him that the only way his play would be ready come fall would be if I would work on it alone in my own time."

What did he say to that? Alan asked.

He groaned a bit, but didn’t disagree. I didn’t tell him where I would be working, of course, but since I didn’t want him to show up at my door in Boston any time he pleased; I booked myself on this cruise and I’ll keep in touch with him on Skype.

You won’t be able to put on a play for us this time then? Alan said, a trace of hope lining his words.

Oh no, don’t you worry about that, Doc. This whole deal with this producer happened a few weeks ago. I used these weeks to finalize his play, so that I could be free for the next nine months to work with the cruise director on something for this trip.

Alan lowered his head and perused the menu. He knew he was going to have to fight Babette off, but she was such a wonderful person, how could he refuse?

Tiffany and Babette chose the Risotto Alioto, a house specialty, and Alan picked an Italian seafood salad.

After a delicious meal, the conversation returned to their upcoming journey over coffee.

You know, Babette, the thing that intrigues me the most about our itinerary is that excursion to Jordan. Do you think many of the passengers will be taking it? questioned Tiffany.

Of course they will, Tiffany. Most intriguing place. And after so many weeks aboard ship, they’ll be only too willing to get off and stretch those camel legs a bit.

Tiffany and Alan exchanged a puzzled glance. Did they say something about camels in the cruise brochure? Alan asked.

Oh, no-no, Doc, it’s just my imagination going on overdrive. But if such a ride would be on offer, I’ll be the first one in the saddle, I assure you.

Tiffany had to giggle at the picture she drew in her mind of Babette steering a camel through the Jordanian desert. I don’t know if I would be as adventurous as you are. Don’t they say you could get seasick on those beasts?

Well, that I don’t know, dear, but that swaying motion could probably induce a fair amount of nausea, I would imagine, Babette replied, sipping on her coffee.

I guess, if they do have it on the schedule, then I’m sure I will be asked to escort all of these adventure-bound passengers, Alan remarked.

What do you mean? Wouldn’t you be going on these excursions anyway? Babette asked, looking up from the rim of her cup to both Tiffany and Alan in turn.

Not necessarily, Babette. As members of crew, we’re supposed to stay on board, as you know. Babette nodded. But in this instance, if enough passengers were going on these journeys inland, I would probably be asked to go along.

Babette turned to Tiffany. What about you, dear, will you be confined aboard ship, too?

Tiffany giggled. I hope not. If Alan needs an assistant, I believe I will be asked to follow him ashore.

Oh, that would be wonderful! Babette said with unbridled enthusiasm. Then adopting a more circumspect tone, she asked, Anyone else we know going on this cruise?

Oh I’m sure there will be quite a few regulars, but we haven’t met anyone else since we’ve been here, Alan replied.

How long have you been here? Babette asked.

Just a few days, Tiffany said, looking up at Alan.

That’s all we could afford, Alan put in. I mean we could have come down much earlier, but Tiffany had so much packing to do, I am even surprised we managed to get here three days ago, he teased.

Oh no, you’re not going to blame me for the delay, Doctor Mayhew, Tiffany rejoined, grinning. She turned to Babette. You know, we’ve been packing for cruises dozens of times if not more, but our good doctor here couldn’t make up his mind about which leisure suits and shirts he wanted to put in his luggage. We even had to go shopping for him, if you could believe that.

Babette was giggling. Men are all the same, she said, they’re so fussy about their appearance. Sometimes I think being fussy is a man’s trait. They’re never sure what they should do in most situations.

Alan chuckled. Anyway, it wasn’t so much the clothes I was taking or not taking that bothered me, it was the choice of cameras…

Cameras? Babette queried wide-eyed. Have you taken up photography as a hobby then? Or is that something new in the required list of surgical tools to bring with you?

Alan shook his head. No, nothing like that. I have always liked photography. I had my first camera, an Argus C3 35mm, when I was just a youth. I have progressed through all kinds of cameras since. In this case, it’s because the Company asked me to take a few shots of the crew during the cruise for a publicity campaign they’re organizing. But in reality, I have been taking digital pictures for some time. I usually take pictures of interesting cities, market places, and people in them, etc. Taking ‘publicity pictures’ is a bit more professional than I feel I am qualified for when it comes to photography.

And that meant spending endless shopping hours going from one store to the other until we found the camera Alan wanted.

Goodness, why didn’t they ask a professional to do that? Babette asked, more intrigued than ever it seemed.

No, that wasn’t the plan, Alan interposed. You see, the Company wants ‘surprise shots’ of the crew…

You mean surprise the crew in awkward moments during the trip?

Yes, Babette, that’s exactly what they want. But beside those, they also want to gather old photos of crew when they were children…

All taken with a nautical theme in the background, Tiffany finished for Alan.

How exciting! Babette said. And have you received many of these children’s photos thus far then?

Quite a few good ones, yes. Actually, all of the ship’s officers managed to send me very good childhood photos, except for one.

Oh, and who’s that? Do I know him?

I don’t think you do, Babette. Neither of us has met him yet, no. His name is Hans Gromwell; he’s the staff captain on this cruise. Have you heard of him or seen him on one of your trips?

Babette shook her head. No, not that I recall, no. Where is he from, do you know? His name sounds German.

Exactly. He’s apparently from Bavaria, from what I could tell from the pics he sent me. But the strange thing is that as a child, or a teenager I should say, none of his pictures relate to a nautical theme.

Have you asked him what his dad was doing then? Babette asked. Because, you know, not every child is born loving the sea or has parentage in fisheries or ocean shipping.

Alan nodded. Yes, I realize that, and the only thing that I could tell from his photos was that his dad was a hunter, I’ve got a half a dozen pics of his father hunting with the boy and even one of his dad fighting off a bear.

Well then, he’s a late comer, Babette concluded.

Yes, I should say so. Yet there’s something that still bothers me about him.

What’s that? Tiffany asked.

Alan turned to her and reclined to the back of his chair. You see, even if he was a late comer to the officers’ ranks, when you go on your first ship, you’re so proud of having finally reached your goal, you have someone take your picture of that memorable moment in uniform. But in this case, there’s nothing about our staff captain that would indicate that such was the case.

It sounds almost like our Herr Hans Gromwell has a troubled past to hide, Babette suggested pensively.

Hours later, enlaced in each other’s arms, Tiffany was asleep while Alan laid wide awake thinking of Hans Gromwell. He could hardly wait to meet the man. Unable to close an eye, he decided to check his emails. Now there was Wi-Fi accessible at most times of the day or night. The Company had recently installed permanent Wi-Fi access for all passengers (at a hefty fee), officers and some members of the crew. Alan wouldn’t have to trot to the internet station every time he was to send or receive emails. He looked at the few emails and at the one message that attracted his attention. He opened it somewhat eagerly since he didn’t immediately recall the name.

It read:

Dear Dr. Mayhew,

I don’t know that you remember me, but you treated my little girl with a nasty case of the flu, again I apologize for the mess we made of your office, when we were on a cruise with you a few months back. When I saw your name on the list of officers on the Gold Cruise, I had to write to you and tell you what Annie did…

By this time Alan expected to read a sob story about the ‘adorable’ Annie who couldn’t sit still for a minute, except to throw up on his shoes. But he was wrong.

As I was packing for this cruise, Annie was having a wonderful time playing on the bed. At one point she said, Mommy, look at this, and stuck out two of her fingers.

Trying to keep her entertained, while getting ready, I reached out and stuck her fingers in my mouth and said, Mommy’s gonna eat your fingers, pretending to eat them.

I went back to packing, looked up again and my daughter was standing on the bed staring at her fingers with a devastated look on her face. I said, What’s wrong, honey?

She replied, What happened to my booger?

I’ll see you tomorrow then, Doc.

Regards,

Mrs. Galbraith

Unable to refrain from laughing out loud, Alan exploded, waking Tiffany.

What on…? she growled from the bed, sitting up and looking at Alan in disbelief.

Come here, hon, he said, This is too funny…

Intrigued, Tiffany pushed the covers aside and came to stand beside him. It took her less than a minute to read the email from Mrs. Galbraith and begin to laugh with Alan.

It looks like I’ll have to watch for Annie, she already sounds like a smarty pants!

Chapter Three

Hedwig Von Strom

1982

The fall of 1982 was pleasant and even warm, which was somewhat surprising for the Black Forest of Bavaria. By this time, every year, the ground would have been covered with a light blanket of snow. Yet the snow had stayed away, a perfect day to go hunting.

Come here, said his father. I’ve got a young buck in my sight. Look… He pointed through the trees and bushes ahead of them. Stay very quiet, he added, Hedwig crouching beside him.

Can’t I just aim and shoot? Hedwig whispered, already aiming his rifle at the magnificent beast.

No, son, Mr. von Strom replied, putting a hand over his son’s gun-barrel and pushing it down. Let him listen and when he lowers his head, then you can shoot.

The animal stood majestically before them, about fifty feet from the two men. His ears flapped a little while he turned his head toward the hillside to his left.

He’s going to run, Mr. von Strom mouthed, looking briefly at Hedwig. He then aimed without a sound and fired.

The deer heaved a sigh before collapsing to the forest floor.

Hedwig was already up, wanting to run to the animal. No, don’t you move, his father told him, pulling him down by the sleeve. Let him die in peace, son. He won’t get up, don’t worry.

Hedwig didn’t seem to appreciate his father’s compassion, he wanted—he needed—to see the animal expire. He felt such a rush when he could witness death taking over a living being. He squatted again beside his father, shaking his head. When it’ll be my turn to kill, I won’t wait, he thought eagerly.

Once Mr. von Strom was satisfied that the deer had exhaled his last breath, he stood up silently, almost reverently, and walked cautiously to the carcass, Hedwig in tow. Alright, you go get the litter from the truck, he ordered, pointing in a direction over the hill. And don’t forget to bring the rope to tie it down.

Hedwig was a hunk of a young man for his age. At fifteen, he could lift sides of beef from his father’s fridge at the butcher shop without any assistance. He didn’t need any help from anyone to bring back the litter they had cut from tree branches and tied together to transport the deer’s remains easily. He ran up the hill, and reached their truck in no time.

He was back at the site of the kill within fifteen minutes, depositing the litter beside the deer.

Okay, now let’s roll it over and drag it onto the litter, like I taught you, Mr. von Strom said, taking the hind legs and swinging them toward the blanket laid beside the animal. Hedwig took the front legs and rolled them onto it. He then grabbed all four legs and dragged the carcass toward him, while his father reached for the cover under the animal and stretched it until the carcass was resting in the middle of it.

They then wedged the head of the litter against a tree trunk to prevent it from going downhill while they dragged the blanket and carcass onto it. Placing the litter downhill from the kill was the trick, it made it much easier to get the animal over it.

Hedwig attached the ropes he had brought with him on and around the carcass until his father was satisfied that it wouldn’t move during their return trip to the truck.

A half-an-hour later, his father was climbing behind the wheel and Hedwig in the passenger seat.

We’ve got to let it settle for a bit, Mr. von Strom told his son, before we get it open.

Why? Hedwig asked, impatience resounding in his voice.

I told you, the blood needs to settle to the lower part of the body before you get a beast opened up, otherwise, you’ll make a mess when you carve it.

Augsburg was a vibrant capital, a city built out of the rubble left behind after the 1945 American air-raid. Most of the residences and shops had been rebuilt in the 35 years that followed the end of World War II. Mr. von Strom’s butcher shop was located not far from the city center and attracted customers from far and wide. His claim to fame was his prize-winning sausages. He had a talent not many butchers had; he could mince and mix meats with quite a few spices and herbs that made his bratwurst a delicacy to behold. The other item he carried was venison meat. He was a dedicated hunter and knew how to treat the kills, to cut them expertly and have them ready for sale in the week or ten days that followed each of his hunting trips. On occasion he even had bear meat available, but in the fall and early winter, customers would come to the butcher to purchase deer and wild boar meat preferably.

Hedwig was an apt apprentice. He was learning quickly all of the tricks of the trade and was his father’s pride when it came to making sausages.

You’re getting better than me at this, he would often say when his son was preparing pork meat to be minced and seasoned.

But at 15, Hedwig needed some solid schooling. His father felt he may have a future in the butcher shop, but he wanted his son to get an education that could see him become something other than a butcher, even a celebrated one. So, he was strict when it came to homework, studying and discipline. Mr. von Strom wasn’t a father to take the cane to his son, but he occasionally used his belt on his rear end when the boy strayed once too often.

When it came to girls, Hedwig had only one young lady in mind, Gertrude. He knew he was far too young to contemplate having a ‘real’ relationship with her, his father would have had a conniption if he had been aware that Hedwig had tried to kiss her a week ago. Nevertheless, Gertrude was forever on his mind. Every leisure moment he had, which were not many, he would take Gertrude’s photograph out of his school bag and look at it dreamily. He knew he would marry her someday. However, for the time being he had to content himself with admiring her from afar. Admittedly they went to the same school, that is to say, she went to the lyceum and he went to the athenaeum. Co-ed schools were not that frequent in those days, although with the American Base still in operation, there were a few foreign and private schools that allowed co-education. Yet, Hedwig’s father had seen the war, he had survived it and he had rebuilt his life and savings with the sweat of his brow. He didn’t have the funds or the inclination to have his boy going to an American or a private school at great expense, when the German schools taught the children as much as they should know.

Hedwig’s mother had died a few years ago from a nasty form