It's Murder, On a Galapagos Cruise: An Amateur Female Sleuth Historical Cozy Mystery (Miss Riddell Cozy Mysteries Book 2)

by P. C. James

  “Maybe people here like seals more than sunshine,” Freda said.

  “Could be,” Arvin said. “Say, did you ladies hear anything more about the death on board last night?”

  “No,” Pauline said quickly. “Why, did you?”

  “The police were grilling the crew pretty hard when I came ashore. I thought there may be more to it than an accident.”

  “You didn’t see the tortoises then?”

  “Nah, ugly brutes. I knew somebody who had one when I was a kid. It was a little one, not a big one. It did nothing but eat, sleep and poop so far as I could tell. Can’t imagine a giant one would be any different.”

  Pauline smiled. “Not a lot different, that’s true. I’m not sure they even knew we were there, to be honest. People were milling around them, but they just went on eating.”

  “Then I saved myself the cost of the excursion,” Arvin said. “You relieved my mind.”

  “To the matter you mentioned earlier, the death on board,” Pauline said, “did you see or hear anything odd last night?”

  “Me? Why would I?”

  “No reason, I just wondered. You’d think some of us would have heard or seen something.”

  “Most of our fellow passengers are so old they wouldn’t hear if a bomb fell, let alone a body.”

  “You’re probably right,” Pauline agreed, “and the lounge was loud with music and conversation. People were finally relaxing after the journey to get here.”

  “It was too loud for me and I didn’t feel too good,” Arvin said. “I had an early night.”

  “And today you’re refreshed and raring to explore,” Freda said.

  “Well, happy enough to get off the boat and wander the streets. I get nervous when I see police uniforms.”

  “Where did you learn to distrust the police?” Pauline asked.

  “Growing up in Germany, during and after the war,” Arvin said. “My family were lucky and were given permission to go to Israel.”

  “That would have been better, I’m sure,” Pauline said.

  Arvin’s expression remained grim. “Not really,” he said. “The police were on our side, that’s true, but lots of others weren’t, so it was just as frightening. I left the moment I got the chance. You see, I’ve been running all my life.”

  “We’re back at the landing place,” Freda said, diplomatically changing the subject. “Are we going back on board or do you want to walk some more, Polly?”

  “I think I’ll go back,” Pauline said. “It’s hot now. A cold drink and some shade would be very welcome.”

  In the evening, the passengers were gathered into the lounge to hear from the captain in person.

  “Good evening, ladies and gentlemen,” Captain Ferguson began, “I hope you all enjoyed your day on Santa Cruz and, in particular, the Charles Darwin Center.” He paused while his audience enthusiastically assured him they had.

  “The unhappy event of last night, which the police are now happy was indeed an accident, has thrown our intended itinerary and required us to re-plan your cruise.” An unhappy silence greeted this statement and Ferguson pressed on quickly. “Have no fear, you will see all the places you chose to see when you signed up for the trip, we will just be doing them in reverse order. Other groups have been moved forward to take the spots we weren’t able to take because of this forced day in port.”

  “The good news is, we have been cleared to sail in another hour. Our first landfall tomorrow morning will be on the small island of South Plaza. You’ve all come to see marine iguanas but, on this island, you’ll see the opposite: iguanas as they exist everywhere else on this planet, that is, on land. Those of you who have bought tickets for this tour, please be ready to disembark by eight-thirty a.m.”

  Instantly a babble of questions arose as people wanted to get clarification. Many had not heard what he said accurately, many hadn’t been listening at all. Pauline’s heart sank. The thought of nine more days of people not hearing, while others refused to even listen, was setting her teeth on edge. Finally, there was calm and Ferguson was able to continue.

  “We will be issuing a new itinerary as soon as they are printed,” he said, “but keep the old ones for the information they contain. The new itinerary will only include the names, dates and times of the stops because we have no professional printers on board to redo the whole pamphlet.” Once again, the passengers fell to talking among themselves and the noise level was too high for him to speak and be heard.

  When it quieted, he continued, “The area where the crewman fell from has been roped off while the Engineering & Maintenance crews make and install a new gate. This will only be for today or part of tomorrow at the latest. Meanwhile, I would ask you to keep well away from the area. If the ship were to roll suddenly, you may also fall against the gate and possibly fall to the deck below.”

  “If the gate is dangerous,” a passenger called out, “why wasn’t it fixed before we sailed? And how can we be sure other gates aren’t also unsafe?”

  “A full investigation is being made into the circumstances around the gate and how it came to be as it was,” Captain Ferguson replied, “and I’ve had officers and local safety inspectors examine every similar gate and railing on the ship throughout the day. I’m assured there is no other hazard.”

  “Even if the gate is made safe, Captain, how can we be sure there isn’t a murderer onboard? The police were very quick to call this an accident,” another passenger asked.

  “They were quick to call it an accident because all the evidence suggests it was. There’s nothing to say he wasn’t alone when he fell or that anyone onboard wished him harm,” Captain Ferguson replied. “But your question is one I and the company would also like answered. Can we be absolutely sure that Jose Garcia was not pushed?” There was further murmuring, which he let die down before he continued.

  “As some of you may know, we have onboard no less than two detectives, both highly regarded in their own way. The company has asked them to investigate the occurrence and provide some additional assurance that the police were correct in their assessment. I hope you will help them in any way you can.”

  Captain Ferguson asked Detective Somerville and Pauline to stand, introduced them with some details of their careers, before urging the passengers to remember their faces and answer any questions they might have.

  “What if you find there is a murderer onboard?” a passenger asked Somerville.

  “Then we’ll notify the captain, and he will notify the authorities,” Somerville replied. “Remember, Miss Riddell and I are also passengers on the ship. If we find a murderer, as detectives, we’re even more at risk than you are.”

  “Does this ship have a jail?” was the follow-up question.

  Captain Ferguson replied, “We have a secure cabin that we keep for those highly unusual cases where isolation of a passenger or crew member is needed. We’ve never used it in all my time on the ship and I don’t believe we will this time either.”

  The subdued conversations that followed this suggested the passengers weren’t as happy with the idea of an investigation as Captain Ferguson had hoped they would be.

  He continued, “I’m not going to sugar-coat this,” he said, “this isn’t a nice thing to have hanging over us on what should have been a joyful vacation, but I ask you once again to take part in this honestly. If there is a threat to others on board, it’s best we know sooner rather than later. You may have heard of ‘Mystery Nights’ or ‘Mystery Cruises’ where the guests take part in a murder mystery performance. Try to think of it in that light, and I hope that’s how it will be seen at the end of the investigation but please keep in mind, in this case, it isn’t just a parlor game. Please help Detectives Somerville and Riddell as much as you can.”

  As he finished speaking, the Cruise Director arrived with a folder of revised itineraries and the conversation immediately switched to that and the changes. Captain Ferguson left quietly, leaving the Director to explain the new route.
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  As they left the lounge, making their way out onto the deck to enjoy the night air and stars, Pauline heard herself being called. She looked about and saw Detective Somerville on a higher deck signaling her to join him.

  “You stay here with the others and enjoy the drinks and snacks, Freddie. I’ll go and see what he wants and see you back at the cabins.”

  She climbed the steps up to the deck where Somerville was waiting. She’d vowed to herself she would always use the stairs and not the elevators or she’d be pounds heavier by the time the cruise was over. Sometimes, she wished she wasn’t quite so diligent in carrying out her vows.

  “What is it,” Pauline said, puffing a little and embarrassed because of it, “that couldn’t wait until tomorrow?”

  “I wanted to ask you about finding the body,” Somerville said to Pauline, ushering her into the Purser’s office and to a chair.

  “Really,” Pauline said bluntly. Her opinion of the man was low from the moment they’d met at dinner the night before and it sank even lower by his commanding her to this meeting; it had been uncourteously done. She thought his appearance also didn’t inspire confidence. He was poorly groomed, badly and inappropriately dressed in a Hawaiian shirt of gaudy flowers and parrots, and seemingly unable to understand how unprofessional all that looked.

  “I wanted to ask you to tell me everything that happened before, during and after you discovered the body, up until the time the security officer and doctor arrived,” Somerville said. “We didn’t really talk when the captain brought us together.”

  “I’ve already provided a written a statement on this to the captain and the police,” Pauline replied, “have you not seen it?”

  “The captain shared it with me, but I’d rather hear it from you and explore your memory for more details if you don’t mind.”

  “Very well,” Pauline said. She hadn’t believed it possible but she was beginning to like him even less. Did he really think she hadn’t already done this?

  She began recounting the events of the previous evening, from the moment she and Freda decided they would return to their cabins. Somerville listened quietly until she reached the point where she’d discovered the body.

  “Did you call for help immediately after you found the body?”

  “Not immediately,” Pauline said coldly, “as I said in my statement. I wasn’t sure of the man’s condition. I checked his pulse at his wrist and then at his neck. That’s when I found blood on my fingers and I discovered he’d been stabbed under his chin.”

  “And you heard and saw no one?”

  “That’s correct,” Pauline replied, “From the moment I saw it was a body and not a pile of clothes, I was very alert for sounds and the sight of anyone else. I’m not without experience in these matters.”

  “I’m sure you’ve thought about this, so I won’t beat about the bush,” Somerville said, “From a detection point of view those who last saw the victim or are first on the scene are likely to be involved in some way with the crime. To be clear, I’m not accusing you of anything, but you must see that one explanation is that you did it.”

  Pauline frowned. She had expected this line of enquiry, which is why she’d taken such trouble over her written statement.

  “Well then, let me assure you I didn’t,” she said.

  “Of course not,” Somerville said, “but your explanation of how the victim got there would work if you’d caused him to fall and then come down to confirm he was dead.”

  “That’s true,” Pauline said, “though I should point out how slowly Freda and I would have come down two decks of steps. It would have been a crazy thing to do. Anyone could have heard him fall, come out to see what happened and would see us coming down the stairs.”

  “I think you would feel safe enough doing that, wouldn’t you, Miss Riddell? Who would imagine two elderly ladies being capable of throwing a young man over a rail? I think you would just say you heard a noise and saw the body and were coming down to provide help. After all, Mrs. Holman is a trained nurse. And I understand how you might feel you’re innocent, after all, as I see it, it wouldn’t be murder, just self-defense.”

  Pauline was taken aback. This was very direct. “I can only repeat,” she replied. “This man’s death has nothing to do with me. I am interested in hearing your theory though.”

  “Okay, here’s how I see it happening,” Somerville said. “You were out for your after-dinner stroll, as you said, when the victim, who was passing and was perhaps overcome by his feelings, grabbed one of you, perhaps not realizing there were two of you. You, or Mrs. Holman, took something from your purse, scissors or a nail file maybe, and you stabbed him. You didn’t mean to kill him, just fend him off, but he stepped back at that low place on the rail. He lost his balance and fell. Looking over the rail, you realized you may not have killed him and you hurried down to give him aid, perhaps. When you discovered he was dead and nobody had seen or heard anything, you decided to say you found him. Then once the security and doctor arrived you told them your story and explained the blood on your hands by saying you’d checked his pulse at his neck. You’d either pocketed the weapon and dropped it overboard later when the deck was clear or you threw it overboard as you came down the stairs. Is that close enough to how it happened? Nobody will blame you. It was just self-defense.”

  “That’s a fine theory but I repeat, I had nothing to do with this man’s death. Events happened as I described in my statement.”

  “But you can see where I’m coming from, can’t you?”

  “Yes, but there are too many holes in the story, Detective,” Pauline said. “First, even allowing for the man’s overwhelming youthful passion, which blinded him to the fact there were two of us and not one or that he could never get off the ship after what he’d done, do you really think he’d be driven to lust by the sight of one stringy, fifty-five-year-old woman or one plump woman who is even older, neither of whom were ever anything but plain?”

  “Many people have unusual passions,” Somerville replied, “Why not this one?”

  “Very well,” Pauline continued, “how did I, or Freda, have this weapon just there in our purses when it was needed. You suggest it was scissors or a nail file. You can check our dressing tables and find both are still very much in evidence.”

  “I only used scissors or a nail file as possible examples,” the detective said, “until we have a proper post-mortem, we won’t know what the weapon actually was.”

  “But somehow, you imagine, we were able to conceal this weapon throughout the time when the security officer and doctor were there and while my sister Freda was with me or that Freda wouldn’t have seen me throw it overboard.”

  “I’m suggesting you are both supporting each other in this matter,” Somerville said.

  “Perhaps,” Pauline said, “but all these small inconsistencies add up to an unlikely hypothesis, Detective.”

  “As I said, Miss Riddell, I’m not accusing you of anything, just testing theories.”

  “I’m pleased to hear it. Do you have any other theories that I can help you test?”

  “None that you can help me with,” the detective said, rather pompously for one so young.

  Pauline stared at him in disbelief. The nerve of the man. He was barely out of school, hadn’t a lick of sense, or an idea in his head, of that she was sure, and yet he took such airs to be above a mere amateur like her, even knowing how long she’d been working in this field.

  “Then I’ll leave you to continue investigating,” Pauline said. “Should you wish to confirm we have all our sharp personal grooming tools, do ask. We’ll both be happy to oblige.”

  Outside the office, Pauline found Freda, instead of socializing in the lounge, was waiting anxiously. “Is it all right?” she asked.

  “Yes, of course,” Pauline said. “He just wanted to talk about what we saw when we found the body, detective-to-detective so to speak.”

  “Oh,” Freda said. “Will he want to speak to
me, do you think?”

  “Maybe,” Pauline said, “but you should decline his invitation.”

  “Won’t that upset him and make him suspicious?”

  “Probably but I’m sure that young man is used to witnesses getting upset with him. Shall we go for tea and biscuits, though they’ll call them cookies, while we learn more details of our next stop from the naturalist?”

  “Don’t you have a briefing with the captain?” Freda asked.

  “Not until later, after the naturalist’s talk. By then, I should be calm enough to meet Detective Somerville again without murdering him.”

  “Oh dear,” Freda said. “You don’t think it would be better to miss it tonight?”

  “No dear, I don’t. We will need to be on our toes with that young man. I can’t leave him to manage the investigation alone. We will have to be involved.”

  “Well, Detectives,” Captain Ferguson said, welcoming Pauline and Somerville to the briefing later that evening. “Have you learned anything that sheds light on this unfortunate affair?”

  “Not a lot,” Somerville said. “I interviewed the doctor and spent time with the Ecuadorean Police filling them in on details I’d seen at the two places of interest.”

  As he hadn’t been present when the body was in one of those places of interest and the other was an empty deck, gate and railing, Pauline wondered how much updating he’d been able to provide the Ecuadorean Police. She didn’t, however, share her musings.

  “And you, Miss Riddell?”

  “I’ve very little to add to what I’ve already said, Captain, but I would like you to provide us with some background on the dead man.”

  “I can give you what I’ve been told,” Captain Ferguson said, “but I’ll have to introduce you to the officer in charge of maintenance for more details. He was closer to the dead man, and the others of the maintenance crew, than I am.”

  “You give us the thirty-thousand-foot level, Captain,” Somerville said, “and we’ll get the finer details tomorrow.”