by Fred Hunter
“Hmm.” Ransom knew that Emily was not going to like this news. “And you heard nothing after that.”
“Well, I wouldn’t, you see. A boat’s got a lot of creaks and bumps and what-have-you when it’s on the water. But I didn’t hear anything out of the ordinary.”
“So as far as you knew, you were alone on board.”
She nodded. “Except for Miss DuPree. Before they left, the Farradays told me she was the only one that stayed behind, so she should’ve been all.”
“I’m sorry, should’ve been?” Ransom asked with a raised eyebrow.
“Well, of course! But Miss Hemsley must’ve come back, and her niece, too.”
“You didn’t hear them?”
“No, like I said.” She stopped and slapped her forehead. “Wait! You’ll be calling me a liar! Miss Bremmer did just poke her head in and ask if I’d seen her aunt, but that was all.”
“And you’re sure you didn’t hear Miss Hemsley at all.”
She shook her head. “No, but I wouldn’t have, would I, closed in here? I wouldn’t hear anyone unless they came in the lounge and was making some noise.”
Ransom was about to excuse himself when David Douglas popped open the galley door.
“Mrs. O, are you rea—” He broke off when he saw Ransom, and the color drained from his face. “Oh. Sorry. I didn’t mean—” He turned to withdraw but Ransom grabbed the door, holding it open. “It’s quite all right, Mrs. O’Malley and I are finished with our talk. However…” He turned to the cook. “You’re not ready for Mr. Douglas to bring in more things yet, are you?”
Her cheeks puffed with a knowledgeable smile. “No, it’ll be a few minutes yet.”
Ransom turned back to Douglas. “So we have time to talk now.”
Douglas’s square jaw worked for a moment before any sound came out. “I—I still have a lot to do.”
“Then we should get to it so that you can get back to work.”
“Oh. Yeah. Sure.”
“Let’s go into the lounge.”
As they exited the galley, Ransom glanced over his shoulder and said, “Thank you, Mrs. O’Malley.”
“Anytime,” she replied with a careless wave of her hand.
He followed Douglas into the lounge. “Why don’t we have a seat at the bar?”
“Okay.”
They each perched themselves on stools. Out of the corner of his eye, Ransom noticed that Lily and Emily had left the dining room, and Hoke was cleaning up.
Once face-to-face with Douglas, Ransom’s impression was much the same as Emily’s had been: the youthful appearance was belied by finely etched crow’s feet and lines at the corner of his mouth, neither of which were evident at a greater distance.
Douglas attempted his usual ingratiating smile, but fell short. “I suppose people usually feel nervous when they get questioned by the police, huh?”
“Some do,” Ransom replied.
He glanced at the floor. “Uh, thanks for waiting to talk to me. I didn’t want to talk in front of Mr. Driscoll. I don’t have anything to hide, not at all—but I didn’t think it was right to talk to me in front of a guest, you know what I mean?”
“I think so,” the detective replied with an opaque smile. “Now, Mr. Douglas, let’s start with the obvious questions. You stayed on the boat until all the passengers had left, is that correct?”
He nodded eagerly. “Yeah. All except old— All except Miss DuPree.”
“And you left the boat at what time?”
“I’m not exactly sure. I’d say some time before eleven.”
“Alone?”
“Yeah.”
“Hadn’t you planned to go ashore with Joaquin?”
Douglas emitted a derisive snort. “He said something about wanting to go, too, but I didn’t want him trailing after me.”
“Why is that?”
The smile vanished. “What?”
“Why didn’t you want anyone with you?”
“Well … well, I didn’t say I didn’t want anyone with me. But, you know, me and Hoke, we’re together all the time.” A hint of the smile reappeared. “I suppose I could’ve asked Mrs. O’Malley if she wanted to go for a walk with me, but she’s not exactly my type.”
“Where did you go?”
“I went—” He stopped suddenly, and his brows made a sharp downward turn. Ransom thought it was not unlike watching a coin that had been dropped in a sorter trying to find the right slot. The glitch, if it could be called that, lasted only a matter of seconds.
“I went up the beach,” Douglas replied. “Or rather down it. I went south. The Millers went north.”
Ransom allowed his eyes to widen slightly. “Oh, then you saw them go.”
“I was on deck when they left, yeah. Does … does that mean something?”
“I don’t know what anything means as of yet, Mr. Douglas.”
This answer didn’t appear to afford the steward much satisfaction.
“Was there any particular reason you were on the deck when the passengers left?”
Douglas returned to his usual manner. “Not really. Just that they were all leaving at the same time, and they’re not very young, and they had to manage the gangplank and the dock and all. I thought it was best to keep an eye on them, just in case somebody fell or something.”
“I see. Did you see anyone when you went on your walk up the beach?” He already knew the answer to this, but wanted to hear what Douglas had to say.
“Not a soul!”
“And when did you come back?”
“Um…” He now sucked in his lower lip, then pushed it out again. “I don’t know exactly what time it was, but it was after Miss Hemsley was found. I mean, I think most of the passengers were back by then.” He gave a single laugh. “If they hadn’t had a murder to worry about, the Farradays would have chewed me out but good for not being back before the passengers.”
Ransom leaned his right elbow on the bar and studied the steward, allowing a long enough interval to ensure his discomfort.
“Is … there a problem?” Douglas asked at length.
The detective smiled. “Forgive me, Mr. Douglas, you just seem very urban to me.”
“I don’t know what you mean.”
“You just don’t seem the type who would be interested in a long nature walk.”
Douglas smiled. “There’s not a hell of a lot else to do around here. And … you know … a beach isn’t like traipsing through the woods. Not like the old folks were doing.”
“The problem is,” said Ransom in an alarmingly casual tone of voice, “that since you left the boat without Joaquin and went off on your own, you don’t have anyone to corroborate your whereabouts at the time of the murder.”
Douglas was silent for a moment. “You make it sound like I wanted to ditch Hoke so I could be on my own for some … purpose. Well, you’re right, but not the purpose you think it is.”
“Indeed?”
Douglas leaned in toward him. “Ever since this trip started I’ve had my eye on this one cutie we got on board.”
“Yes?”
“I mean, God knows there’s not a lot to pick from. Most of the female talent on this boat got one foot in the grave! It was lucky for me that there was at least a couple of nice-looking women on board.” He stopped and rubbed his palms against his thighs.
Ransom stared at him for several seconds. “I’m sorry, I’m not following you.”
“Oh!” Douglas exclaimed, his eyes going wide. “What I meant to say is, I went out for a walk because I was hoping to run into that cutie. But, you know, I didn’t get started till too late, and I didn’t know which way any of them went when they got past the store, so it was hopeless. Of course, now that we know she’s a murderer, I suppose I’m better off.”
“Ah. So the object of your affection was Miss Bremmer.”
“Uh-huh.”
“And did she return your interest?”
“Not yet. But it’s only been a couple of day
s. And her aunt was taking up all of her time.”
“Hmm,” Ransom said thoughtfully. He drummed his fingers on the bar for a moment. “How did you feel about Miss Hemsley?”
“Didn’t know her.”
Ransom produced a sly smile. “You didn’t know her niece, either, but you’d formed an opinion.”
“Yeah, but Rebecca’s nice to look at. I didn’t pay her aunt any attention.”
“Really? I understood that Miss Hemsley paid you some attention.”
“What? What? You mean the other night? When she said I’d been in her room? What would I be doing in her room in the middle of the night? And the captain and his wife vouched for me. They knew I didn’t do it. That Hemsley woman was nuts!” He raised an index finger and tapped his temple
“Had you ever seen Miss Hemsley before?”
Douglas screwed up his face. “No. When would I have seen her?”
“I was just curious. It was suggested to me that you might have known her before this voyage.”
“What? Who said that? I’ve never seen any of these people before!”
“I believe it was at the first lunch on board,” Ransom said lightly. “I was told that Miss Hemsley made some sort of unpleasantness about you, and that she said something like ‘I’ve seen him before’?”
There was a stunned silence, then Douglas made the effort to readopt his causal attitude. “If she said that, that was just something she made up in her own head. She really was losing it, the poor old thing. Anyone can tell you that.”
“They have.”
“So you know.”
“Yes. You seem very forgiving, given that you had the misfortune of being the object of some of Miss Hemsley’s ‘fancies.’”
Douglas smiled. “You have to be, with old people.”
“Hmm. The captain tells me you have prior experience of working with the elderly.”
There was that glitch again: fleeting, but clear and unmistakable. “Yeah, I did. I worked in a nursing home.”
“For very long?”
“Yeah. Yeah. For a while. I don’t remember exactly how long. You know how time is.”
“Yes, I do,” Ransom said airily. “And I imagine the name of the place and dates are on your résumé, anyway.”
“Yeah, they are,” Douglas replied. All of the humor had gone out of his face.
“Good!” said the detective as he slid off his stool. “One other thing—I noticed that the beach is lined with trees. While you were walking, did you happen to notice whether or not there was any way to get from the beach to the road?”
“You mean, what? Like paths? Yeah, I saw a couple of paths. I took one of them.”
“You did?”
“Well, yeah! I told you I was hoping to run into the cutie. There’s a path way down that way.” He waved a hand in the general direction of the south. “I was bored with the beach. I took the path out to that road. Didn’t work, though—didn’t see her. Only people I saw was old Miss Langstrom and Mr. Brock on their way back here.”
* * *
Ransom left Douglas sitting on the stool and went out through the starboard door. He hesitated at the foot of the stairs, debating about whether or not to go down to Emily’s cabin and report what he’d learned so far—something he would normally do with her over dinner in the kitchen of her small, comfortable bungalow during the course of one of his investigations. The desire to do it now was even stronger, deprived as he was of the company of his usual sounding board, his partner, Gerald White.
However, it had also been quite some time since he’d had a cigar, something of which Emily did not approve, and in the end it was the latter desire that won out. He went up to the white deck. The only passenger there was Lily DuPree, who had resumed her seat on the port side where she lay emitting a short, rhythmic hiss through slightly parted lips, evidence that she had fallen asleep. Samantha Farraday was in the process of straightening the deck chairs. Ransom said, “Where is everybody?”
“It’s nap time. Most of them are in their cabins,” she replied.
“Their cabins? I would’ve thought they’d do that up here.”
“Normally they would have. You’re to blame for that.”
“I am?”
She laughed. “As if you didn’t know! I think our passengers decided to take their little siestas in their cabins instead of on deck so they wouldn’t risk running into you!”
“Really?” Ransom said innocently. “I don’t seem to scare Miss DuPree.”
Samantha shot a none-too-kindly glance in the direction of the sleeping old woman. Then she leaned into Ransom, lowering her voice. “I think Miss DuPree finds the whole thing very exciting.”
Ransom shrugged helplessly. “Some people react that way.”
“She can afford to. Her business isn’t in jeopardy.”
“Do you mean to say you’re in financial trouble?”
“I don’t—” She faltered, then began again. “I shouldn’t have said that. We do all right. But a scandal like this … I know you think it’ll bring us customers. Maybe it would eventually. But if passengers stayed away for very long, it would be the end of us.”
“I don’t think people would necessarily blame you because someone gets murdered on board your boat. Especially if it turns out that it really was Rebecca Bremmer who killed her aunt.”
“Maybe not,” Samantha said after a long pause. “Look, Mr. Ransom, I really don’t mean to sound unfeeling. I know it’s a terrible thing, murder.”
“It’s perfectly natural that you would be concerned about your livelihood.”
She searched his face, then smiled. “Thank you. Now I’d better go down and check that the dining room has been cleared.”
Before she could walk away, he raised the cigar he’d been holding between two fingers. “By the way, do you mind?”
“Not at all. You’re free to smoke on this deck. Just please don’t do it on the lower decks.”
“Thank you,” he said with a tilt of his head.
Ransom stuck the tip between his teeth, pulled the lighter from his right-hand pocket, and lit the end of his cigar. He replaced the lighter, leaned on the ship’s rail, and took a long, satisfying drag. He then blew a heavy stream of smoke into the air, silently contemplating what Samantha Farraday had just told him. He had smoked in peace for several minutes when he saw Sheriff Barnes come around the rear corner of Friendly’s General Store, accompanied by Lynn Francis. They came down the dock and up the boarding plank.
“Have you found out anything?” Lynn said unceremoniously when they reached him.
“Nothing concrete.”
“Anything at all?”
He didn’t fail to note the degree of anxiety in her voice.
“I’m afraid not. Not yet.”
Lynn’s lips tightened. “Rebecca asked me to pack up her things, and her aunt’s. Sheriff Barnes was good enough to give me a lift.”
“Oh,” said Ransom. “I believe Emily’s in her cabin. I’m sure she’d like an update on how Rebecca is doing.”
Lynn hesitated a moment before leaving them. From the doubtful expression on her face, it was clear she thought he knew something more than he was telling, and equally clear that she didn’t want to leave without hearing it. But she’d known him long enough to realize that pressing him would do no good.
“I’ll go see her, then.”
She crossed to the stairwell and disappeared down it.
“Where is everybody?” the sheriff asked.
“Hiding. Apparently they’re afraid of me.”
Barnes humphed. “I didn’t have that problem. They probably think I’m Barney Fife.”
“From what they’ve told me, they all seem to think you’re very capable—and they all think you have the right person in jail. Or they want to believe you do.”
Barnes ran one of his large hands through his reddish hair, then bent forward and rested his forearms on the railing. “So, now that your friend is gone, you want to
tell me if you learned anything?”
The right corner of Ransom’s mouth inched upward. “I was telling Lynn the truth. I haven’t learned anything new.”
“‘Concrete’ was what you said. How about something that’s not concrete?”
The detective heaved a frustrated sigh. “Everything that everyone has told me so far seems plausible enough. All of them—I should say, most of them—were a bit nervous when questioned, which as you know isn’t unusual. I’d have to say that on the surface of it, you are perfectly right in assuming Rebecca Bremmer’s guilt.”
“I’m not sure I like it when you put it like that.”
Ransom laughed lightly. “Sheriff, you have her in jail.”
“Yeah…,” Barnes replied, dipping his head to one side.
Ransom eyed the side of the sheriff’s face for a moment: it was a kind face, strong and firm but not excessively angular. “My guess would be that you honestly believe she’s guilty, but feel sorry for her.”
Barnes smiled rather sheepishly. “Your guess would be right.”
“Don’t sound so embarrassed. Pity isn’t necessarily a bad thing.”
“I wouldn’t let it keep me from doing my job.”
“Obviously.”
“But detective … uh … pardon me, but despite what you’re saying, you don’t sound like you think Bremmer’s guilty.”
“It’s not that,” Ransom replied with another sigh. “It’s that … after questioning all the people, I think Emily’s right.”
“About what?”
“Something just doesn’t smell right on this boat.”
“Maybe it’s that thing you’re smoking,” said Barnes with a grin.
Ransom laughed. “I’m sorry, is it bothering you?”
“No, I was just joking.”
Ransom took a puff from the cigar and blew the smoke away from Barnes. “I know it’s vague, but something here just doesn’t feel right. I don’t know if it has anything to do with the murder. That might be a completely separate issue.”
“So what doesn’t feel right?”
“I wish I could say. You did question them all, didn’t you?”
Barnes nodded. “Uh-huh.”
“And your impression was?”