Dead Man Docking - Mary Daheim [99]
“Good,” Judith said, putting the laptop down on the mahogany desk. “We’re two for two. And I’ve got plenty of time to do my research.”
Renie glanced at the phone. “I’ll call Bill. He won’t answer, but I’ll leave a message telling him we’re still alive. Then,” she continued, grimacing, “I’ll call my mother.”
Judith nodded. She was already absorbed in getting on the Internet and finding a good search engine.
Renie spoke into the receiver: “Cruz dead, cruise canceled. We’ll be home after the funeral. Love you.”
Judith looked up from the screen, where a story about pollution in local waters was downloading. “That’s terse. Won’t Bill be puzzled?”
“No,” Renie replied, dialing again. “After all these years, it’s the kind of information he’d expect to get when I’m with you.”
Judith was still perplexed. “But Bill never uses the phone unless he absolutely has to. Does he know how to retrieve a message?”
“No.”
“Oh.” It was pointless to ask Renie any further questions. After so many years, she’d given up trying to figure out how her cousin and her husband ran their household. Stuffed apes, small dolls, a rabbit wearing a tutu—it was beyond even Judith’s superior powers of deduction.
She looked back at the screen. She’d started her search for Cruz Cruises from January 1, but drew a blank until February, when rumors surfaced about the company’s move to San Francisco. The change of headquarters was confirmed in early March, with two subsequent articles giving details. But the story that held her attention ran ten days later, on March 11.
The California Environmental Protection Agency (Cal/EPA) is planning to launch an investigation of Cruz Cruises to learn if the line is in violation of wastewater dumping in San Francisco Bay.
Judith started to read aloud, but her cousin was already talking on the phone, presumably to Aunt Deb. “Not exactly a problem…I’m not sure when we’ll get home. We have to check with the airlines…Of course it’s windy…No, I absolutely refuse to put weights on my feet to prevent getting blown away…”
Current regulations require a limit on the amount of waste dumped by ships with as many as 5,000 passengers and crew.
“…Not a contagious disease…Mr. Cruz had what you might call a shipboard accident…We won’t be going back on the ship, Mom. How can I fall overboard if I’m on dry land?…Hey, do I wear a miner’s lamp on my head in the fog at home?”
Cruise-line owner Magglio Cruz, who recently moved his company headquarters to San Francisco, denies that his ships, including the new San Rafael, qualify as “behemoth ocean liners. Even the largest,” Cruz said yesterday, “including our new flagship, will carry fewer than 3,000 people.”
“…Not a tremor…Yes, I know, stand in a doorway or get under a sturdy man…What? No, I didn’t say ‘man.’ At least I didn’t mean to say that. I meant table.” Renie seemed rattled.
Environmentalists claim that the numbers for passengers and crew are not only much higher, but that Cruz has been in violation of wastewater regulations in Alaskan waters. A demonstration is planned at Cruz headquarters tomorrow at 10 A.M. Several hundred protesters are expected to be on hand.
Judith finished the article and turned to watch Renie more closely. Her cousin suddenly looked alarmed. “What? You did? How high on the Richter scale?…That’s high enough. Are you okay?…Oh, that’s too bad, but I’m sure Mrs. Parker will find him…Hey, I’ve got to go. Judith needs me…No, she’s not sick…yes, she’s being careful of her hip…No, we haven’t lost our mittens. I’ll see you soon, Mom…Yes, very soon…As soon as we can get there…Soon.”
Renie hung up. “They had a five-point-six earthquake at home this morning. Mrs. Parker’s wretched poodle is missing. No serious damage except for the usual broken crockery and stuff falling off of shelves.”
Judith couldn’t help but feel some concern. “I must call home. I’ve got my heirloom items on the plate rail in the living room, not to mention Grandma Grover’s breakfront with the family china.”
“You’ve never lost much of it yet,” Renie said with a shrug.