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

by P. C. James

  “He wanted money from me, a tip. I said no. He didn’t like my answer and said so. I threatened to inform the captain of his behavior and he became even more threatening. I walked away. After dinner, I was still seething, you might have noticed how upset I was at the meal. I went onto the forward part of the ship to smoke a cigar or two to get the bad taste out of my mouth. I didn’t say anything because, from the moment I heard of his death, I knew I’d be number one suspect if anyone learned of what happened.”

  “Why did you think that?” Pauline asked.

  “Because,” Rod began angrily, and then paused and said slowly, “because it’s always the Mexican that did it, isn’t it? I do my best to fit in. I say ‘Rod’ not Rodrigo, I took my wife’s family name to sound more American. I work hard to speak properly. I’m clean, tidy and have worked hard to build my fitness business but I’m still the outsider and I can’t forget it. Nobody let’s me.”

  The silence that followed this unhappy speech was deafening.

  Eventually, after seeing the others had no further questions, Captain Ferguson stepped in and said, “Again, Mr. Chalmers, thank you for meeting with us and clarifying your movements that night. I think we can all see how difficult this is, and has been, for you. I don’t think there’s anything more we need to know.”

  Rod finished his drink in one steady draught, rose, nodded to them and left the cabin without another word.

  “He was your first choice of suspect, Miss Riddell. What do you think now?” Captain Ferguson asked.

  “I think we have to look elsewhere for our perpetrator, Captain,” Pauline said.

  “Then you believe him?”

  “In the essentials, yes,” Pauline said. “That the argument with Jose was something as trivial as a tip, no. I’m sure there’s something in Mr. Chalmers’ past that Jose somehow discovered but I suspect we can confirm where he was. If he was at the bow smoking, your officers on the watch that night will have seen him.”

  “I’ll check the shift roster and we’ll talk to them later,” Ferguson said. “What do you think Chalmers has to hide?”

  “I suspect that he isn’t actually Mexican. To an English speaker, all Spanish speakers sound the same but to other Spanish speakers, they probably don’t. The reverse is true, of course. Non-English speakers think we all sound the same, whereas we can say where a fellow English-speaker is from almost immediately.”

  “Would that be so terrible?” Somerville asked. “Not being Mexican, I mean.”

  “From a personal point of view, probably not, but if something important is based on him being Mexican, his immigration status to the US for instance, it may be crucial to his life going forward.”

  Somerville nodded. “What you say is plausible,” he said.

  “I think it explains his unhappiness about the whole trip. His wife’s desire to come to South America placed him in terrible jeopardy. He could be unmasked at any time,” Pauline said. “The stress must have been, still must be, excruciating.”

  Ferguson nodded. “Is it always like this?” he asked. “Uncovering people’s harmless little wrongdoings and shaming them.”

  “I’m afraid it is, Captain. We always learn of people’s small misdeeds, their innermost doubts and fears,” Somerville said. “Sometimes it’s those feelings that are the cause of the crime but often, they’re just why they wouldn’t be honest about what happened and, in doing so, bring suspicion down upon themselves.”

  Pauline added. “It’s often an unpleasant experience uncovering the truth,” she said. “Many people have wounds that aren’t fully healed.”

  “Well,” Ferguson said, “if your principal candidate is innocent, Miss Riddell, we’re left with only two. Are you ready to provide more evidence against my chief engineer, Detective?”

  “Not really,” Somerville said. “I’ve learned more about Gregor, thanks to Señor Hidalgo’s good work pressing the police and others but none of it suggests he would behave as Miss Riddell thinks the possible perpetrator must have acted.”

  “I think a number of possibilities, Detective, not just one,” Pauline interjected, annoyed at having her suspicions being narrowed down to one.

  “Whatever,” Somerville said, brusquely, “he is another one of the ship’s company who’s had an interesting life. Reading the records, I suspect his involvement in the Hungarian Uprising wasn’t as accidental as he suggested. The Hungarian authorities didn’t think so anyhow, after the revolt was crushed. But I think that makes him a warrior for the good guys, rather than a bully toward new recruits.”

  “A warrior doesn’t always understand how intimidating they are to those of us who are not warriors,” Pauline said. “Jose could so easily have been scared into retreating against that gate.”

  “So, you still think Gregor is a suspect, Miss Riddell?” Ferguson asked.

  “The reason I’ve never thought the chief engineer a suspect is because whoever lured Jose to that place knew what they were doing. If it was premeditated, it was murder. If it was an accident, then the chief engineer is unlikely to be the culprit. He would know he’d be suspected because he, of all people, would have, should have, known about that gate.”

  “So, if my bridge crew rule out Mr. Chalmers and you’re both as convinced as you can be it isn’t Gregor, that only leaves Arvin Weiss,” Ferguson said.

  Pauline said. “But we haven’t entirely ruled out Pedro, Rod Chalmers or Gregor Mikailovitch. I only said the evidence isn’t there to go further.”

  “For my part, Captain,” Somerville said, “I still feel an accident is a perfectly rational explanation. The cut may have nothing to do with the event and we can’t know what Jose was doing when he fell. There’s no reason we know of for him to be there but that doesn’t mean there wasn’t a reason. The reason may be something so personal to him we’ve missed it.”

  “Such as,” Ferguson asked.

  “One I thought of, but it didn’t check out, was he’d hidden something part way down that access ladder, drink or drugs, for example, and he was climbing down to get them when he fell backward off the ladder.”

  “You found nothing when you checked, you say.”

  “Correct. I got your maintenance guys to let me look and there was nothing and nothing was on or around the body when he was found so it didn’t pan out but that just means that particular explanation wasn’t right. There could be another or even others. We don’t know what Jose was doing there and that’s the truth of it.”

  “We’ve investigated Jose’s actions and questioned those who knew him. None of them could explain it,” Pauline said.

  “Maybe we haven’t asked the right person or asked the right question,” Somerville said. “I’m ready to call this case complete now, to be honest. I think we’re wasting people’s time and spoiling our own, and others’, vacations.”

  “As you might recall, I didn’t want to be part of this investigation,” Pauline said, “but now I am in, I’ll continue to the end. I want to hear what the bridge crew have to say and then anything more that comes in about Arvin. Until we’ve taken the same care to eliminate him from our enquiries, we can’t stop.”

  Somerville nodded. “I guess you’re right,” he said. “When can we hear from the guys on the bridge that night, Captain?”

  “Before the evening is out,” Ferguson said. “I’ll have the officers join us and Suzanne, our hospitality manager, is also available. If you rejoin your parties, I’ll have someone come find you when I have them here to talk to.”

  “Separately, please, Captain,” Pauline said. “I’d like Suzanne’s information to be as private as we can make it.”

  The meeting with the bridge crew, when it was held, was brief. The officer of the watch did remember a man smoking a cigar or cigarette pacing back and forth on the foredeck. While he hadn’t noted the time, it was certainly around the time of the incident. He couldn’t say who the man was, it was dark by that time and, even though there is low lighting on the foredeck, he was l
ooking down from the bridge into the semi-darkness across quite a distance. All he could say for sure was a lighted cigar/cigarette moved back and forth across the deck and it was a man smoking it.

  This wasn’t conclusive but as no one else claimed to be smoking on the foredeck, it looked like Rod really was in the clear.

  After the bridge officer had left the cabin, Suzanne was ushered in and introduced to the detectives.

  “As I asked for you to come and talk to us,” Pauline said, “I’ll begin. My question is a simple one. Have any of the female crew spoken to you about Jose Garcia?”

  “No, no one has,” Suzanne replied, puzzled. “Why?”

  “You’ve never heard any of the women talking about him and his behavior?” Somerville asked.

  “Never!”

  “We thought maybe it could be a motive,” Pauline said.

  “He’s the one dead and you’re trying to blame him?” Suzanne cried.

  Pauline felt she was either a very good actor or she was genuinely outraged and therefore had not heard anything against Jose.

  “We have to consider all possibilities, that’s all,” Somerville said, stepping in to quell the manager’s indignation.

  Pauline felt even Somerville seemed embarrassed at having to defend them, his cheeks had flushed pink. It would be particularly galling as he’d been against this interview.

  “Thank you, Suzanne,” Pauline said. “You’ve set our minds at rest on this topic. Please don’t share anything said here tonight with the others. These are difficult questions to ask and answer and no good will be served by broadcasting what has been said.”

  Suzanne nodded, still too upset to speak, and left the room.

  “That went well, I thought,” Somerville said, grinning from ear to ear.

  “It had to be done,” Pauline said, her mind weighing the options. Should she believe Maria’s story because she didn’t share it with others or disbelieve it because she hadn’t shared it with others?

  ‘Can we not distress the female staff any further, Miss Riddell?” Captain Ferguson said. “I understand your desire to be sure in this matter, but we have no reason to implicate any of them in this awful tragedy.”

  Pauline nodded. “I think it’s clear we will learn nothing new there,” she said, “so let us move on. Please send Señor Hidalgo a message urging more speed on his inquiries into Arvin Weiss,” Pauline said. “He’s our only remaining known suspect.”

  “You’ve ruled out the other Peruvian crew members?” Ferguson asked.

  “Not entirely but nothing in the information the police provided so far would indicate a motive for murder,” Pauline said.

  “But we haven’t ruled out manslaughter or an accident brought about by a confrontation that wasn’t intended to be fatal,” Somerville reminded her.

  “If Señor Hidalgo sends anything new to raise any of those men in the suspect list, we can go further but at this time I’m not considering them as suspects.”

  “So, what you’re saying, Miss Riddell, is that if we can show Arvin had nothing to do with Jose’s death, you’ll give up on this obstinate insistence of murder?” Somerville asked.

  “If we can find nothing to indicate the likelihood of Arvin having a hand in what happened, I think we will have done enough to make the travel company feel safer, yes.”

  “Then let’s do it,” Somerville said. ‘Captain, get your people working night and day on background for us, ‘cos we’re finding nothing here in the foreground.”

  “Of course, there’s always the possibility of that other person, someone we haven’t yet identified, being responsible,” Pauline said, with only a hint of mischievousness.

  “At this stage, I don’t want to hear it, Miss Riddell,” Somerville said, “and I’m sure Captain Ferguson doesn’t either. The Ecuadorean Police had this nailed on their first day. I’m beginning to suspect you of grandstanding.”

  Ferguson held up his hand to draw a close to this exchange. “I just want to be sure we have nothing to fear going forward,” he said. “I, and the company, don’t require anything beyond that. Accident or not. We want to be sure we’re not sailing with someone who is dangerous on board. Ships are confined spaces, even ones as nicely appointed as this one is, and we need to know everyone can cope with that.”

  “If there was wrongdoing, I want justice to be done,” Pauline said. “I didn’t know Jose, I have no personal interest here, but his death needs a fuller investigation than was done. I’m sorry a police detective doesn’t share that opinion.”

  “Now listen here—” Somerville began but Ferguson intervened before he could finish.

  “That’s enough briefing for tonight,” he said, “and squabbling won’t help at this stage. We all want what’s best, however we express our wish. Now, can I top up anyone’s glass?”

  The two detectives shook their heads.

  “Then, first thing in the morning, I’ll provide you with what information comes in overnight and we’ll meet again tomorrow evening after dinner. Good night, and if we don’t have a reason to meet first thing, enjoy Espanola Island tomorrow.”

  The briefing broke up and the two detectives returned to their evening entertainments. Somerville to the bar to talk sports with the men and Pauline joined Freda and Betty to listen to the nightly talk from the park naturalist telling them what to look out for on tomorrow’s island.

  15

  Espanola Island, Punta Suarez

  Morning brought a new island and, for Pauline, a renewed resolve. After the stretch session and sunrise, almost the best part of the day for Pauline, she and Freda went to breakfast.

  “What’s your plan today?” Freda asked, as they enjoyed their toast and tea in the sunshine, far away from the others.

  “As we’re almost sure Pedro and Rod didn’t do it, I’m going to learn more about the crew and Arvin.”

  “We never meet the crew,” Freda said, “and Arvin isn’t a naturally sharing man.”

  “Nevertheless, I’ve got to try. That boy was killed and even if it wasn’t murder it wasn’t an innocent accident either. There was intent behind it.”

  “And if you don’t find anything?”

  “Then I go home having done what I could to right a grave wrong. I can do no more than that,” Pauline said.

  “I suppose,” Freda said, doubtfully, “but after leading everyone to think it was murder, it will leave the people on this ship, crew and passengers alike, under a cloud. You said it was murder and there’ll be no resolution. I know it sounds like I’m going back on myself, Polly, but I think you’ve gone too far not to finish with an answer.”

  “If I ask the right questions of the right people before we dock in Guayaquil again, I’ll have an answer.”

  “I hope so,” Freda said, “or people will be angry you even raised the question and kept on with it when everyone else was happy with calling it an accident.”

  Pauline began the renewed questioning once they reached the boat deck. Quickly realizing her queries were getting her nowhere and souring the day for everyone, Pauline rejoined Freda.

  They boarded the tender in silence as it ferried them and the others of their party to the dock on the island. Calling these landing places ‘docks’ was too grand, Pauline thought wryly as she was being helped off the bobbing boat by a strong young sailor. There were no facilities or handrails, no gangplank, no dock offices with officials, just a flat-topped platform jutting into the sea.

  They gathered around Pedro as he explained what they could expect to see and reminded them of the difficulties they would encounter on the rough paths. Looking seriously at the group, fixing the eyes of the frailest and elderly, he urged anyone who had doubts about their agility and balance to wait for the shorter hike that would begin shortly after this extended one. No one changed their mind and, with something like a shrug, he said, “We will begin.”

  Freda, who was anxiously watching Arvin hobble along the trail ahead of them, said quietly to Pauline, �
�Arvin really shouldn’t have come on this excursion.”

  Pauline followed her gaze and saw what Freda meant. The heavy-set man was struggling with the heat and the loose rocks beneath his feet. It was difficult to know which of the two challenges was most galling to him. One hand fanned his face with a pamphlet, the map probably, while the other hand constantly reached out to nearby shrubs to steady him.

  Pauline shrugged. “It will be a lesson for him,” she said. “The guide said, ‘strenuous walking over loose stones without shade’. Pedro gave him a clear get-out option at the start. Arvin has repeatedly told us all how much he struggles with heat and how his body has been damaged by the life he lived in Europe before emigrating to the States yet he persisted. I have no sympathy with him.”

  “Maybe so,” Freda said, the nurse in her growing increasingly concerned, “but we’ll all suffer if he has a bad accident.”

  Pauline was unmoved. She felt strongly that foolishness should be rewarded by its inevitable consequences.

  Minutes later, Freda’s worst fears came true. Arvin’s ankle turned and he fell heavily, sliding down a short slope over sharp rocky outcrops.

  Raul, the assistant guide, hearing Arvin’s cry, stopped the group and hurried back to discover the cause. He quickly shuffled down the slope to where Arvin lay.

  Freda slid down the slope behind him as quickly as she dared to the place where Arvin had fallen. “Are you okay, Arvin?” she asked.

  “No, I’m not okay, you…’ he cut his comment short.

  “Pedro,” Freda called up to where he was watching from the path, “I’m a nurse. We’re going to need help here?”

  Pedro quickly came down to where Freda stood.

  “I’m sure you don’t need my expertise to see the problem,” Freda said.

  “I don’t. His ankle isn’t right at all,” Pedro said. “We can’t let him walk back. I’m going to radio for help. Can you do what you can to make Mr. Weiss comfortable while I do that? I left my radio with my bag. Raul, you come and take charge of the tour while I see what can be done.” He rose and both guides made their way up the incline, loose stones sliding down to bump against Freda and Arvin.