by P. C. James
“You idiots,” Arvin yelled, when a larger rock slammed into his shin.
“Lie still, Arvin,” Freda said, trying to fend off the remaining stones that slid by. “I’ll look at your leg if you’ll let me but I’ll need to take off your shoe and sock.”
“No, leave it.”
Freda nodded. “As you wish,” she said. “There doesn’t seem to be any bleeding so the skin isn’t broken, everything is still inside.” She smiled in what she hoped was a reassuring manner but the angle of his leg to the ankle was dramatically wrong. “Maybe it would be best if I just make you more comfortable.”
She called to Pauline to bring down her bag with her spare clothes. After the drenching on their first wet landing, she’d traveled with spares.
From her bag she took a towel, bundled it, and placed it under his head.
“Is there anywhere else we need to protect,” she asked.
“My side, here,” Arvin said, rolling slightly so she could place a cushion there. His golf shirt was stained with blood.
“You have a scrape there, Arvin,” Freda said. “Luckily, I never go anywhere without a first aid kit so let me get some antiseptic cream and a bandage on the wound before we go any further.” She plunged her hand into the capacious bag and rummaged for the kit.
“Polly,” Freda said, as her hand emerged from the bag, “Can you put up our umbrella and give Arvin some shade.”
Pauline did as she was told, holding the sunshade so it put Arvin’s sunburned face into shadow. She watched as Freda lifted the shirt up and did her best to keep her face expressionless when she saw the size of the gash in his side. She doubted Freda had any band-aids that would cover that.
“Do you have any water left, Arvin?” Freda asked.
Arvin shook his head. His eyes were closing and the color was leaving his face.
“Fortunately, we have,” Freda said brightly, diving back into her bag again. “Here,” she said, holding the open bottle to his lips. The water seemed to revive him and she continued, “Polly, go see what Pedro is doing. We’d all like to know help is on its way here. It’s too hot to enjoy this siesta.”
Pauline set off up the slope. It was hard going. The loose stones slipped under her so she seemed to slide back two feet for every one she gained. Eager hands helped up the last few feet and she was about to set off when she saw Pedro returning.
“They want to know how he is,” Pedro said. “What they need to bring.”
Pauline explained about the open wound and Pedro relayed that back to the ship. There was a lot of discussion in Spanish and English before a plan was confirmed. Pedro called the group together, away from Arvin, to explain.
“A team with a doctor is coming out from the ship to take Mr. Weiss back to the landing site, where a helicopter will be waiting to take him to hospital in Puerto Ayora. We will continue our tour. My assistant, Raul, will stay with Mr. Weiss until the team arrives.” He held up his hand as many people were interjecting. “We must continue our walk and get back to the ship. It is very hot and many of you are not used to this heat. We will have to carry more people back if we don’t go now.”
The grumbling died away as people appeared to accept the wisdom of this.
“And now, Miss Riddell, I’m going to ask your sister to stay with Mr. Weiss. A trained nurse will be a valuable person to have. Raul has first aid, we all do, but this seems to be more than that.”
Pauline nodded and returned with him to where Arvin lay.
Pedro outlined the plan and Freda agreed. “Of course,” she said. “I’d like to stay.”
“He’s asleep?” Pedro asked.
“He has lost consciousness, yes,” Freda said. “I’ve slowed down the blood loss by holding this pad against his side, but your team needs to get here quickly. More bandages would be useful.”
Pedro opened his rucksack and handed over his first aid kit. Freda picked out a thick pad and a roll of dressing. “If I place this pad on the wound, instead of my spare shirt, can you tie it tightly to him with this dressing?”
Between them, they maneuvered Arvin so the dressing could be wound around his stomach and pinned in place.
As they finished, Raul joined them. “You need to go,” Raul said to Pedro, “some of the older ones are beginning to droop.”
“Freddie,” Pauline said. She gestured to her sister to move away from the others.
When they were alone, she continued, “I know you won’t like me saying this but if he wakes, ask him about the events of that night. I’m certain there’s more he can tell us.”
“He’s a patient,” Freda said, “and I’m not a torturer.”
“I’m not asking you to hurt him, he’s done that well enough to himself. It’s just an opportunity to take his mind of his present predicament by returning to an earlier time on the trip. That’s all.”
“I don’t believe you,” Freda said, shaking her head. “Have you no compassion for anyone?”
“I have compassion for those who deserve it and I have a desire for justice for those who cry out for it,” Pauline said. “You wanted to detect, now detect.”
“I quit, or had you forgotten?”
“I’m only saying listen, not question, Freddie.”
Freda strode quickly back to her patient. Pauline watched after her as she settled on the ground beside Arvin’s head and adjusted the parasol to shade them both. Freda glared back at Pauline and then, shaking her head in disbelief, opened the water bottle and dribbled water onto Arvin’s forehead. He stirred as the cool droplets brought him to his senses.
“What?” he mumbled.
“You have to stay awake, Arvin. The medical people will be here soon. They need you lively enough to help them.”
“Rest,” Arvin muttered.
“No. No rest until you’re in a more comfortable spot. Now, what can we talk about to help you keep awake?” Arvin’s expression became even more morose than usual. Freda continued, “What was it that attracted you to this trip, Arvin? The Darwin angle, the remoteness of the islands, the romance of the islands’ history, all those pirates and whalers? What was it?”
“Darwin,” Arvin mumbled.
“Me too,” Freda replied, “though I’m glad we saw those giant tortoises.”
“Kids stuff,” Arvin muttered.
Freda laughed. “Maybe,” she said. “What have you liked best so far?”
Seeing Freda was doing as a good detective should, getting the witness comfortable enough to speak freely, Pauline set off up the slope after Pedro who was seeking a higher vantage point, hoping to see the rescue team.
She rejoined the group and they set off, following the narrow trail as it snaked around the end of the island with its views out to sea. Here the vegetation was primarily low shrubs, only a few inches high, and coarse grasses. Suddenly, Pedro signaled them to halt. When they’d gathered around, he pointed to the ground, twenty yards away on the land side of the track. Large seabirds were squatted down motionless among the grasses. Even as they all began to see what he saw, a giant seabird glided down and landed with an inelegant thump beside the group,
“They’re albatrosses,” Pedro said. “They spend all their lives at sea, covering thousands of miles, and return here every year to this one small island to mate.”
Cameras clicked and whirred as the group captured the ungainly albatross waddling across the uneven land.
“I see why they spend all their lives at sea or flying,” Rod said. “I don’t think I’ve seen anything walk that badly.”
Pauline had to agree with the sentiment, it really was hopeless on land, but she remembered its huge, outstretched wings and the elegance of the bird as it glided in to land. She felt a lot could be excused just from that alone.
When the cameras stopped clicking, Pedro motioned them forward to the highlight of this excursion, a cliff down to the sea with views of the many seabirds that nested there.
“We have lost a lot of time,” Pedro said to the group as
they gathered around him at a lookout set back from the cliff edge, “so I will be quick outlining what you’re seeing below. Then, when we’re heading back to the ship, I’ll answer your questions as we walk.”
He spoke quickly, which meant he was hard to understand. His accent, and the age of the listeners, created confusion and the muttering among the listeners made the message even harder to hear. For Pauline, his explanation of the predatory aggression of the frigate birds directed toward the red-billed tropic birds was all she caught and that only because it accorded with her musings about the death of Jose.
Tropicbirds had long, whip-like tail feathers that are vital to their ability to maneuver underwater in their pursuit of fish and those pirates of the avian world, frigate birds, know this. They don’t try to take the fish from the successful tropicbird, they attack its tail causing the tropicbird to drop the fish enabling the frigate bird, that can’t dive into the sea because it has no oil in its feathers, to have a fine meal of fish.
Pauline thought this natural predatory behavior was so applicable to many human societies, groups and people. But was Jose’s death the result of similar behaviors? It appeared now he wasn’t really a good man but was he like a tropicbird that failed to part with the fish it had killed? And in doing so did Jose lose his ability to survive? Was his death about the worlds of politics or criminality? She smiled to herself. She could almost hear her old friend and mentor, Inspector Ramsay, saying there was little or no difference between those two ugly worlds.
She took pictures, hoping that at least one of them caught the beautiful tropicbirds as they swooped across the face of the cliffs before diving arrow-like into the sea. They entered the water leaving barely a ripple on the surface, before rising out of the water with a silver fish wriggling in their beaks. It was breathtakingly beautiful, even in its wild savagery. The attack by the huge, ugly frigate birds that followed was equally barbarous but less beautiful. She was appalled how many times the frigate birds got the fish and how hard the tropicbirds had to work just to feed themselves and probably their families somewhere on the cliff.
Finally, when she was losing hope, she saw a blue-footed booby. She’d heard so much about them and their relations, the red-footed boobies, and had yet to see one on their excursions. She was beginning to believe it was just a sailor’s tale. As happens so often in life, no sooner had Pauline taken a picture of one blue-footed booby, she saw the rocks were practically littered with them. She took a second, and then a third, photo to be sure she’d have one photo to show the people at work when she got home.
Soon the group was moving again, Pedro was growing ever more anxious over his charges. They hadn’t gone far when a great spout of water caught everyone’s attention and they stopped again. Pedro quickly explained about the blowhole, and how the surging waves were funneled through it, before urging them back to the ship. The excited chattering and questions to Pedro passed the time quickly, which at least made the return journey seem shorter.
Back at the landing site, they discovered Arvin and the medical team had already left. Not by helicopter as Pedro had said but by a fast launch that had taken them back to the ship.
“Will he be able to continue the cruise?” one of the hikers asked Raul, who stayed behind when Arvin had left.
“I don’t think so,” Raul said. “His ankle is broken. I expect a government marine ambulance will be meeting us sometime tonight and he’ll be transferred to hospital in the capital.”
“That’s sad,” the woman said. “He will miss so much.”
Raul nodded but said, “Perhaps not so much. There’s only Gardner Bay and Cerro Hill left to see and then the voyage back to the mainland. Still, the company will find some way of helping him to complete his vacation in the future, or recompensing him, I’m sure.”
“I do hope so,” the woman said to a generous chorus of agreement.
Pauline wryly thought of the future dinner table guests who would be forced to listen to Arvin’s continual downer diatribes and was mentally glad she wouldn’t be there. She didn’t wish ill of anyone but she couldn’t help hoping the always sarcastic Rod would also be carried off with a similarly non-life-threatening injury.
The ride back to the ship and the champagne welcome was an annoyance for Pauline. What she wanted to know was if Arvin said anything to Freda that would help the investigation. If Arvin didn’t say something indiscreet when he was in pain, he never would. Sadly, from Pauline’s point of view, the guests and crew were so determined to be entertained that there was no opportunity to hear from Freda until much later.
After dinner, where the subject of Arvin’s fall and removal to the mainland was discussed endlessly, Pauline and Freda walked out onto the deck to talk privately.
“You’re quite the hero with our fellow passengers,” Pauline said, smiling.
“Nurses, like soldiers and doctors, are heroes when we’re needed – and just unseen ‘backroom boys’ when we’re not,” Freda said.
“Still, it’s nice to be appreciated,” Pauline said. “But to come to the point,” she took one last look about before continuing, “did Arvin say anything useful?”
Freda shook her head. “No! Not really. It seems he really did go straight back to his room but,” she paused, “he’s sure he saw someone on deck that night when he was walking from the lounge to his cabin.”
“A man or a woman?”
“He doesn’t know. It was just movement in the shadows and anyway, he wears glasses. Or to be precise, he has glasses but never wears them because they make him look dorky, whatever that is.”
“He didn’t hear anything, or is he deaf too?”
“He said he didn’t. Frankly, Polly, I don’t think he would hurt anyone. He’s just a frightened, lonely man whose life has been horribly shaped by the events of his childhood.”
“I wasn’t imagining him as an active killer but a frightened lonely man who felt threatened could easily push someone over a rail without meaning to. Didn’t you notice that ornately-wrought ring on his hand? That could easily have caused the scratch under Jose’s chin. No, I’m not taking Arvin off my list of suspects just yet.”
“Well, he isn’t coming back to the ship, Polly, so even if it was him, he’s beyond your reach now.”
“Not necessarily. Deduction, evidence, a process of elimination could still point to Arvin but I take your point, he is an unlikely culprit.”
“What do we do now?” Freda asked, “There are no other suspects.”
“We go over what we know and we think,” Pauline said, but her disappointment over Arvin’s apparent innocence was crushing.
It was Pedro and Rod all over again. Another dead-end and even less hope of a solution this time than last. Arvin really was the obvious candidate, not for murder, but to be the one involved. The Jose she was beginning to see better now would have found Arvin a much easier, softer target than the physically strong, and mentally aggressive, Rod, or even the kind, weak, Pedro who was despite all that, also fit and healthy. Neither of them would be an easy target to attack, even for someone as aggressive as Jose, as she now thought of him. But Arvin had fitted the bill perfectly.
16
Espanola Island, Gardner Bay
Another wet landing, which they all now managed with the panache of Indiana Jones, and a short wade through the surf onto the colorful sand of Gardner Bay. The beach was everything the guide said it would be with sand ranging from the purest white through golden, green, red and even black, the result of lava erosion through the centuries. It was a beautiful beach with warm water, and thanks to the National Park regulations, no one was on it. Pauline and Freda tried capturing the subtle colors with their cameras, hoping they would come out when the film was processed.
Today, they’d chosen the beach-walking option to start with the possibility of snorkeling off the beach later if they chose. There was no organized hike, everyone was free to explore on their own, enjoying the silence, broken only by the soft breez
e and waves on the shore.
Once they were away from the rest of the group, and after a long silence that seemed it would never end, Freda asked, “Are you still thinking it’s Arvin?”
Pauline shook her head. “No,” she said, “he was the most likely suspect in my mind but your kind, yet effective, interrogation rules him out as well. It’s very frustrating, no one is completely cleared and yet none of them seem to have done it.”
“What do the others think?”
Pauline smiled. “I thought you weren’t taking an interest anymore.”
“I’m just making conversation. Wandering along without a word spoken can get very tedious sometimes, Polly.”
“Sorry,” Pauline said. “When I’m focused on a case, I lose track of everything else. It’s okay when I’m home. I have the house to myself. I forget that I’m not home sometimes.”
“Honestly, Pauline. Forget Arvin. If there was ever a time when he might have given himself away, it was while he was injured. Even more so when the medics gave him painkillers. He didn’t do it. Give it up.”
“You’re probably right,” Pauline said, “but you can see how this looks to me. As you said, I pushed others to consider Jose’s death a murder, and now I haven’t a credible suspect left.”
“It’s your own fault,” Freda said.
“Not entirely, Freddie, dear. As I recall, you became quite eager to have me take the case so you could help me.”
Freda blushed, enough to be visible even with her sunburned face. “I was caught up in the excitement at first,” she admitted.
“And now it’s almost over?”
“What do you mean, almost? This is our last big island stop. Tomorrow, we have one small call into Santa Cruz and then the boat sails back to the mainland. What is there to change what we know now?”
Pauline frowned. “There’s still Señor X.”