by Mike Befeler
“That’s right. My journal had a note that she was checking out Inese’s family name for me.”
After Marion helped me with the cell phone gadget, Jennifer answered. “Are you and Mr. Grudion getting along better?”
“No. He’s now after me for the disappearance of a passenger.”
“Oh, Grandpa. What now?”
“Another unfortunate coincidence. There’s this woman named Ellen Hargrave who I’ve been accused of knocking down twice. At least they haven’t accused me of knocking her up.”
“Grandpa, stay focused.”
“Yes, ma’am.” I proceeded to tell her all the latest trouble I had gotten into.
“Grandpa, are you having any fun on this trip?”
“Sure. Although I still haven’t seen any whales, I did see a bear butt from the train.”
“Not to change the subject, but I have some information for you.”
“Fire away.”
“With further research on the name Zarins in Latvia, I discovered several references to Karlis Zarins, a crime boss. Could Inese be part of a mob family?”
“She seemed too nice for that.”
“Still, it’s a possibility. Maybe she was the victim of a turf war between crime lords or retribution or a power struggle . . .”
“Hold your horses, young lady. I’m trying to digest this. Gary and Gina seem better prospects to have knocked off Inese to eliminate a competitor for their inheritance, and they might have dispatched Ellen to speed up the inheritance process. This Karlis Zarins wouldn’t have any reason to do anything to Ellen Hargrave.”
“It is complicated. You’ll have to do some investigating on your own to tie it all together.”
“It’s like a plate of spaghetti right now.”
“I predict you’ll figure it all out by the end of the cruise.”
I wanted to believe my intelligent granddaughter but wasn’t one hundred percent convinced. My stomach churned with all the accusations hanging over my head. A geezer like me was supposed to be sipping tropical drinks with my aging body on a deck chair, watching whales doing triple flips in front of me, not finding dead massage therapists and dealing with rich women disappearing. But rather than wallowing in the muck, I needed to suck it up and get on with my life, however much of it was still left.
“We’ll see. In the meantime keep your computer humming to try to learn anything new. I’m going to look at trees and finally see the phantom whales of Alaska.”
“Just don’t harass any of the sea creatures, Grandpa.”
“No. I leave the harassment to Grudion. When will I next see you?”
“I don’t know. Mom and Dad haven’t planned any trips to Southern California yet. Too bad you and Marion aren’t stopping here on your way back home.”
“We should have brought you along on the cruise. With your private investigation skills, you would have tracked down some whales for me by now.”
“Today’s your big day, Grandpa. I’m sure you’ll see oodles of whales.”
“I’ll settle for a measly one.”
“Are you really going out in a whale-watching boat?”
“That’s what Marion tells me.”
“But you hate the ocean.”
“I do. I’m fine when there’s a huge cruise ship between me and the water.”
“But now you’ll be out in a tiny boat.”
“Damn. I hadn’t thought of that.”
“You’ll have to be brave.”
“I don’t know what the world is coming to. Suffering from being around lawyers, having to take pills and being close to the ocean. For an old poop, I still have a number of indignities to put up with.”
“You can’t fool me, Grandpa. You enjoy complaining.”
“You pegged me again, Jennifer. I can’t fool you.”
“Nothing escapes Jennifer Jacobson, private investigator.”
“Now don’t let it go to your head. Humility is a virtue.”
“I know. When I’m playing tennis, every time I think I’m hot stuff, I lose to a player who’s not as good as me. Then I discover I haven’t been practicing hard enough.”
“That’s right. You can’t take success for granted.”
“So, Grandpa, you figure out all the shipboard crimes, and I’ll keep working on my tennis game and checking the Internet for new leads.”
“It’s a deal.”
“Say hello to the whales for me.”
We signed off, and I sat there trying to imagine this twelve-year-old girl. The image of her at six still stuck in my jumbled-up mind. It was amazing the way my crazy brain operated. Perfect memory of this morning and things in the distant past. But yesterday. Forget it, which I did. As elusive as the whales.
Marion shook me out of my reverie, and we dressed before foraging in the cafeteria. I made sure I was well nourished with scrambled eggs, bacon, pancakes, orange juice, coffee and a sweet roll, “Now I’m ready to take on the world,” I said, having to stifle a burp.
We passed through security, and no one tried to clasp me in irons. On the dock a guy in a duck costume accosted us and pointed toward a booth that read, “Duck Tour.” If it had said whale tour, I might have paid attention.
Marion led me onto a bus, and shortly we left the town of brightly colored blue, brown and red houses. After a short drive we reached a forest. I could tell by all the trees. The guide showed us deep marks on a tree where a bear had scratched.
“You know all about bears from being chased at Mendenhall Glacier,” Marion said.
“This one must have been much larger. Look how high up those marks go.”
Then Marion took a picture of me in an opening in a tree that provided a good-sized cave. Above our heads I heard a buzzing sound and looked up to see a man with a helmet on fly by. “Do you have superman wannabes in this forest?” I asked the guide.
“No. That’s a zip-line. People can also take a tour through the forest canopy.”
“I think I’ll just stick to ground level,” I said.
We approached a stream and saw an eagle sitting on a rock watching for the right salmon to swim by. Marion snapped another picture.
“We’ll have lots of photographs so we can remember the trip,” she said.
“And for me it will be something new every time I see the pictures.”
“I’ll have to remind you how much fun you had.”
“Like finding dead bodies and having the ship detective trail me around?”
“Of course. You’ll look back at all that and laugh.”
“Yeah, right.”
After we had communed with the trees and wildlife, the guide led us through an old sawmill that was being reconstructed, and finally we visited a pen where a group of mottled reindeer grazed.
As we rode the bus back to the port area for the next leg of our tour, the important one of going out in a small boat to hopefully spot a pod of whales, I noticed that Marion had turned a shade of green.
“Are you feeling all right?”
“No. Something from breakfast must be disagreeing with me.”
As the bus pulled up, I said, “Maybe we should just head back to our room.”
“I think I’ll do that, but you go ahead with the rest of the tour.”
“Are you sure?”
“Yes.” She handed me the ticket stub. “Go to the end of the dock. There will be a group of zodiac boats picking you and the others up.”
I escorted Marion up the gangway and watched as she staggered aboard the ship. Then I joined the crowd congregated at the end of the dock. I was the last one in line. I gulped as I looked at the small inflated boats. I had to go out in the ocean in one of these? The ocean scared the piss out of me, and I wanted something more substantial between my butt and the water. The sacrifices made to see whales.
A young man dressed in weather gear tapped me on the shoulder. “This way, Mr. Jacobson.” He pointed toward one of the zodiacs, and I gingerly climbed in, holding on to a loop of rope f
or dear life. Once inside I continued to clutch the rope, leaned over the side to admire some eclectic flotsam in the harbor and was almost knocked over as the boat shot away from the dock.
I steadied myself and looked within the boat. There were only three of us. The man who had ushered me in sat in the stern driving us and another man in his sixties rested across from me smoking a cigar.
“What the . . .” I stammered. “Where are the others?”
The man with the cigar tapped an ash over the side and stared at me. I noticed steely gray eyes above pockmarked cheeks. A shiver ran down my spine.
“We’re going on a private little cruise, Mr. Jacobson,” the man said, tossing his cigar away.
Chapter 16
“And how do you both know my name?” I asked the older man in the zodiac.
Now a thin smile appeared on his pock-marked face. “You’re a very well-known person, Mr. Jacobson. I’ve received many reports about you.” he said in accented English.
“Who the hell are you, and why would you be interested in me?”
“I’m Inese’s father, Karlis Zarins.”
I gasped, remembering what Jennifer had told me. “From Latvia?”
“Yes. And I want to have a very frank conversation with you. I expect straight answers. People who are thrown into these waters don’t survive long.”
I looked around. None of the other zodiacs was in sight, and I could only see one other boat far behind us. Other than that all that was visible was verdant coastline and several small islands.
“I have a hunch I’m not going to see any whales today.”
My companion didn’t answer.
My old thumper was pounding lickety-split as I assessed my predicament. I could feel a cold sweat against my skin under my shirt and windbreaker as the cool breeze shot past. My stomach tightened at the thought of the cold water. I couldn’t swim worth crap even in warm water. How would I deal with a maniac father? All I could do was level with him and hope for the best.
“Look, Mr. Zarins, let me explain something,”
“Yes?” He stared at me.
“I know you’re upset with the loss of your daughter. I’m trying to find who killed her as well. I can assure you I had nothing to do with her death.”
He extracted a new cigar from his pocket, took his time lighting it with a match cupped in his hand to protect the flame. Then he tossed the spent match overboard and turned his gaze to me. “I think you killed her.”
I sighed. “There’s a fact you should know about me. I have short-term memory loss, but I keep a journal of what happens every day. On the morning of your daughter’s murder, my wife and I went to the spa. Your daughter was assigned to give me a hot stone massage. She left the room and didn’t return. I went to investigate and found her dead on the floor. Someone had suffocated her by stuffing a hot stone down her throat.”
“Erik says he suspects you’re the one who did it.”
I flinched. “You’ve talked to Erik? He’s one that I thought could be involved.”
Zarins laughed. “Funny man. Erik works for me. I hired him to keep an eye on Inese.”
“Apparently he didn’t do a very good job.”
Zarins’s eyes flared, and he raised a hand as if he were going to whap me but thought better of it.
“No. He didn’t. But he’s now highly motivated to help me punish the murderer.”
“And I’ll help any way I can. Just rest assured that I didn’t do anything to Inese.” Then a thought struck me. “If Erik wasn’t involved, there is one other possible explanation that you should be aware of.”
“Go on.”
“I’ll share everything I know, but I’m a little uncomfortable being out in all this cold water. Do you suppose we could find some dry land, and I’ll divulge what I think happened?”
He laughed again. “I like that. Trying to negotiate from a position of weakness.” He pointed to a small island, nothing more than a spit of sand, rocks and a few trees. “Valdis, take us in there.”
Valdis brought the zodiac up and let it float into the island. Zarins stepped out and stretched his arms. I followed.
“Okay. Sit there and talk.” He directed me toward a rounded rock and I plunked my butt down.
I took a deep breath and began. “In addition to your daughter’s death, there has been a disappearance of a woman named Ellen Hargrave. She was traveling with a nephew and niece, Gary and Gina. You should know that the ship detective, Grudion, has been all over my ass accusing me of doing something to Mrs. Hargrave.”
“What does that have to do with my daughter’s death?”
“Here’s the link. Mrs. Hargrave was looking for a long-lost niece. An investigator she had hired traced this niece to the crew of the Scandinavian Sea Lines Sunshine. Mrs. Hargrave said her long-lost niece was from Latvia. The only crew member listed from Latvia was Inese.”
“And where is this Mrs. Hargrave from?”
“The United States.”
“Obviously a mistake. We have no relatives in America.”
“Exactly. So I think someone was trying to get rid of Mrs. Hargrave’s niece and drew the wrong conclusion that Inese was that niece.”
Zarins watched me carefully. “You either have something or have concocted an elaborate subterfuge.”
I stared back. “Mr. Zarins, you sure speak excellent English for someone from Latvia.”
He laughed. “In my business I deal with many British and Americans. It’s essential that I communicate clearly with them.”
“What is your line of work?”
“I’m in the import-export business.”
From the side Valdis snickered.
Zarins gave him a menacing look and then turned back toward me. “So if I follow your train of thought, Mr. Jacobson, who do you think killed my daughter?”
“I’ll be happy to share my suspicions if you promise not to export them away until I’m sure they did it.”
He smiled. “Touché. Go on.”
“I’m suspicious of Mrs. Hargrave’s nephew and niece, Gary and Gina. They may have decided to eliminate who they thought was the other niece in order to keep the inheritance from being diluted. Then that person may have pushed Mrs. Hargrave overboard to speed up the inheritance process.”
“Possible. But Erik thinks you killed Inese.”
“But I have no motive. I’m an old fart on a honeymoon cruise with my new bride.”
He raised his eyebrows. “You just got married?”
“Yes. Second time around.”
“What happened to your first wife?”
“She died of cancer.”
He was silent for a moment. “Go on with your explanation.”
“I have no vendetta against anyone. I’ve been a law-abiding citizen all my life and certainly have no desire to end up in jail or cold Alaskan waters because I bumped off a nice young woman.”
He regarded me thoughtfully. “Erik’s conclusion was based on you nosing around.”
“That’s because the ship’s detective was accusing me of the crime as well. I’ve been trying to clear my name and along the way find out who the real killer is.”
“I’m not convinced.”
“If you give me a chance, I think I’ll be able to prove it by the end of the cruise. I set things in motion with Erik, Gary and Gina that I think will flush out the guilty party. Since Erik works for you, that leaves Gary or Gina.”
Zarins pulled another cigar out of his pocked, rolled it between his fingers a moment, then returned it to his pocket.
“I’m a fair man, Mr. Jacobson. I’m not going to kill you yet.” He turned to Valdis. “Get word to Erik to check out this Gary and Gina.” Then he turned back to me. “But I’m not ready to let you go either.”
“What does that mean?”
“I’m going to leave you here. That way if Gary or Gina aren’t the murderers, I’ll know where to find you.”
“But I’ll be shivering on this little rock. I’m
only wearing a windbreaker.”
“No storms are forecast for the next three days. You’ll survive. If you’re right, I’ll let the authorities know where you are. If not, I’ll be back to take care of things personally.” He pushed his open jacket aside so I could see the pistol stuck in his belt.
“Damn. I’m sure glad I didn’t have to import anything from you when I was in the auto parts business.”
“I do auto parts.” His nostrils flared. “But I also do body parts.”
With that he stood up and motioned Valdis toward the zodiac. Without so much as another threat, Zarins climbed in, and as soon as Valdis had started the engine, the zodiac zipped away, leaving me alone on my island paradise. I took a quick tour. I resided on a rough circle one hundred feet in diameter. All around was a rocky beach with a central highlands raised up to five feet above the high water line. A dozen fir trees mixed with grass. I could huddle in the trees when it got dark, but there wasn’t much protection if the wind came up.
I watched the zodiac disappear in the distance and only spotted one other boat, but it was too far off to signal. Now what were my alternatives? I felt like a shipwrecked mariner. In World War Two I had been a sailor, the desk jockey variety, handling supply logistics for Operation Overlord. Now I was a castaway on this little speck of an island. I felt deserted and alone. But I needed to suck it up and get the mental juices flowing to figure out a solution to my predicament. I surveyed the water around me. I noticed two other equally small islands. A mile or so away appeared a substantial peninsula that either was part of a large island or the mainland. I had no clue regarding the geography and which way was what. My choices were to sit tight or try to reach that large body of land. And I couldn’t swim more than two strokes. I put a finger in the water. Brrr. I’d never last in that even if I had a way to swim to the land I’d spotted.
I thought over what I had read years ago. When stranded in the wilderness it was better to stay put rather than trying to wander off. As if I could wander anyway. No one from the tour would know I had disappeared. When I didn’t return, Marion would alert the authorities, but no one would know where to search. I could wave to anyone flying overhead, but this didn’t seem to be in the flight path of anything other than geese.