Ransom at Sea (15 page)

“Not for a moment,” Emily admitted candidly. “I do wish I could be more definite. Claudia was the only one there when I drifted off, and she was still there when I woke. The conversation was stopped by the sound of approaching footsteps coming up the steps … the starboard stairs, I believe. The next thing I knew, Bertram Driscoll was standing over me, waking me up. When I turned around to see who had been talking, Claudia was in her deck chair, presumably asleep. Mr. Driscoll said he hadn't seen anybody else. It could very well be that Claudia was talking to someone else, and Mr. Driscoll came up the stairs and the other person fled down the port stairs, not wanting to be seen with her. When the footsteps sounded, the woman said ‘wait,' and there was nothing more after that.”

“Hmm. Has it occurred to you that perhaps Driscoll was the one she'd been talking to, and he came over to make sure you were asleep?”

“Yes, it has. But if it's true, that would mean Bertram Driscoll is very clever.”

“Why do you say that?”

She smiled. “Because he
told
me that was what he was doing.”

When they reached Friendly's, Ransom turned right into the parking lot and came to a stop at the ridge of trees that bordered the lake. He switched off the engine and sighed deeply. “Emily, I'm really sorry this had to happen on your vacation.”

“I shouldn't be,” she replied with Victorian spirit. “It's been a very interesting trip so far.”

He laughed. “I suppose if no one had been murdered, you'd feel slighted.”

She made a gently deprecating noise. “What do you propose to do first?”

“I don't suppose I could convince you to leave the boat and stay at the motel.”

She shook her head. “I couldn't leave Lynn alone on the boat.”

“I meant both of you.”

“I can assure you Lynn will not leave the boat,” Emily said solemnly. “She is determined to clear Rebecca.”

Ransom turned to face her with one brow upraised. “What's going on there? Did Lynn know Rebecca before now?”

“No, I'm sure she didn't.”

“Then how on earth did they form this bond so quickly? It's only been a couple of days.”

Emily smiled at him with grandmotherly affection. “Have you ever heard of a shipboard romance?”

“Has it gone that far?”

“I suppose right now you would call it a strong affinity. But think of Lynn's character. Rebecca is someone who needs support—she was caring for a difficult relation, and under a great amount of strain. Lynn likes to help people who are in need. That's simply her nature. Remember, when her lover, Maggie, was terminally ill, Lynn quit her job and went to work as a very efficient cleaning woman so that she could command her own time.” Emily paused and her eyes wandered out through the windshield. “I suppose it's my good fortune that she decided not to go back to the corporate world once Maggie was gone.”

“So you think the relationship between them is nothing more than Lynn wanting to help someone in need.”

Emily quickly came back to the present and looked at him pointedly. “No, I think that may have been the basis of it. But for Lynn it goes deeper than that.”

Ransom ran a hand over his close-cropped blond hair, then rested his arm on the back of the seat. “Emily, have you been playing matchmaker?”

She looked mildly affronted at the suggestion, though her smile belied the offense. “Certainly not! Of course, I've been gracious about having Marcella and Rebecca accompany us.…”

Ransom laughed. “Oh, I'll bet you have! Now, to get down to the matter at hand, you can give me the lay of the land.”

“How do you mean?”

“We know that Marcella was killed sometime after you all started on your outing. Can you tell me where everyone was?”

Emily sighed with frustration, folded her hands again, and rested them in her lap. “That's just the problem, and I'm afraid it's not going to make your task any easier.”

“Hmm?”

“Virtually everyone was on their own just before we discovered the body. Lily DuPree had decided to stay onboard rather than hike—which is not at all surprising because she's rather frail and I don't think she would've been able to manage the trails very well.”

“She stayed on the boat?” Ransom said with interest.

“Yes, but from what I understand she claims to have fallen asleep and didn't hear or see a thing—which is also not surprising. The boat is small enough that you do feel the motion of the water. It's an amazingly effective soporific. Add to that the fact that our sleep was interrupted the night before, and there you are.”

“I see. Go on.”

Emily raised her chin and took a deep breath. “The Millers were the first to leave the group.…” She went through the roster of passengers, relating when each of them had split off from the main group. “The only other people we saw at all was the stranger that drove up in the green car, and a pair of hikers looking in those shops over there.”

“Hikers?”

“Yes. Apparently that's what they were. They were there when we first came along, and gone when we came out of the visitor's center.”

“Hmm. So the Millers were off on their own,” Ransom said, ticking them off one by one, “Claudia Trenton, Lily DuPree, and Stuart Holmes were each on their own. Muriel Langstrom, Jackson Brock, and Bertram Driscoll were together for a while but separated. Were the last three alone long enough to go back to the boat and kill Marcella?”

Emily sighed again. “It's a very good question, but I don't have an answer. I don't know about Muriel or Mr. Brock. I would imagine Mr. Driscoll was on his own long enough—though of course, we did meet him on his way to the boat.”

“Do you have any idea exactly where any of them were?”

She shook her head. “Sheriff Barnes did talk to everyone briefly, but everyone said they were off hiking when it happened. He didn't go much further than that.”

“I see,” Ransom said as he pulled his cell phone from the inner pocket of his jacket. He flipped it open and punched in a series of numbers.

“Who are you calling?” Emily asked.

“The rest of the cavalry.”

After three rings his call was answered by a voice that Ransom always thought of as having the consistency of watery pudding.

“Detective White.”

“Hello, Gerald.”

There was a smile in his partner's voice when he replied, “Hi, there, Jer.”

“Everything all right there?”

“Newman's doing a burn over you taking time off out of the blue, but he'll get over it.”

Ransom curled his lips. Sergeant Newman was their immediate superior, and after years of dealing with the aftermath of murder and mayhem he was more likely to be upset over an impromptu vacation than over an eruption of violent crime.

“He's probably only miffed because I won't be there to disturb him.”

“How are things in the northern woods? Peaceful?” Gerald asked.

“The woods themselves, yes. However, it seems that one of Emily's fellow passengers wandered off into them and somehow managed to turn up dead back on the boat about an hour later.”

“Back on the boat? Jeez! How is Emily? Is she all right?”

“Oh, yes,” Ransom said broadly. “She's fine. She's more than fine. She's refusing to leave the boat. Perhaps you can talk some sense into her.”

Gerald burst out laughing. “I wouldn't even try!”

“You're very wise. It would be a waste of breath. But I want you to talk to her about something else.”

“What?”

“She's here with me now. I'm going to have her give you a list of the passengers and crew of the
Genessee.
I want you to run them and see if you turn up anything.”

“Sure thing.”

Ransom handed the phone to Emily. She gingerly held it to her right ear and said, “Hello?”

Ransom smiled inwardly. She always sounded tentative when talking on the phone, as if somewhat awed by the idea of voices traveling over wires. But she sounded even more so when on a cell phone, the removal of the wires seeming to add to the bafflement.

“Miss Emily?” Gerald said. “How are you?”

“I'm perfectly all right. I trust you're not going to try to talk me into moving off the boat.”

He laughed again. “Wouldn't dream of it.”

After making polite inquiries about his wife, Sherry, and their two daughters, Emily proceeded to provide him with the list. When she was finished, she said her good-byes and handed the phone back to Ransom.

“You get all that?” he asked.

“Taking notes is what I do best,” Gerald replied flatly. Ransom could picture the smile on his partner's pale round face. “I'll get back to you as soon as possible, but it might not be until tomorrow.”

“As soon as you can,” said Ransom.

“Oh, by the way, Jer,” Gerald said quickly, “how is the local law taking you being there?”

“Surprisingly well. I don't know if that will last, though. We'll see.” Ransom signed off and slipped the phone back into his pocket, then turned to Emily. “Shall we?”

He climbed out of the car, went around to open the door for her, and helped her out. He then closed the door and gave Emily his arm.

“The dock is just around there,” she said, crooking a thin finger in the direction of the back of the general store.

Ransom guided Emily onto the walkway and they went around back to the dock. The
Genessee
was still moored alone in one of the slips, its boarding plank in place. As they approached, through the windows of the wheelhouse they could see Captain Farraday leaning back in his chair reading a newspaper. His wife was at the railing on the port bow, staring fixedly out at the water. Her long dark hair and the skirt of her white cotton dress fluttered in the warm breeze.

Ransom walked Emily slowly up the ramp and onto the deck. Lily DuPree was lying in the same chair she'd occupied the day before, and were it not for the change of clothes it would've looked as though she'd never moved. She now wore a light blue dress with tiny, dark blue flowers that uncomfortably resembled a hospital gown. Muriel Langstrom was on a chair on the other side of the deck, uncharacteristically alone. Her eyes were hidden behind wide glasses with smoky gray lenses, her mouth hanging open and drooping to one side. She emitted loud snorts at irregular intervals. Nobody else was on the deck.

“I'm going to need to talk to the captain,” said Ransom.

She didn't quite hear him, her attention elsewhere.

“Emily?”

“What? Oh! Yes, you should talk to Captain Farraday. Lily is alone. I think I'll go over and have a little chat with her.”

Ransom went around the starboard side of the wheelhouse, gave a gentle rap on the door, and opened it when he heard the sturdy voice from inside bid him to come in.

“Captain?”

Farraday laid down the newspaper and rose from his chair, extending a hand. “You must be Detective Ransom. The sheriff radioed you'd be coming over.”

Ransom shook his hand. The captain's grip was firm and strong, much in keeping with his general appearance. The erect posture, steel gray hair with its white-flecked temples, and the unwavering gaze all supported the impression of dignified authority.

“Pull up a seat,” the captain said with a gesture toward the plain wooden chair sitting in the corner. Farraday resumed his seat behind the wheel as Ransom complied. But before the detective sat down, Mrs. Farraday came in through the port bow door.

“Ah. This is my wife, Samantha,” Farraday said. “Sam, this is Detective Ransom. From Chicago.”

“My husband told me you were coming. Pleased to meet you.” She folded her arms and rested her back against the door.

Ransom inclined his head slightly, then sat down. “Captain, as I'm sure Sheriff Barnes has told you, I'm going to look into this murder.”

“Yes. And I welcome that if it will get us under way any sooner.”

“This delay is awful,” said Samantha. “It's bad enough a murder had to happen at all, but then to be stuck here. I don't want to sound unfeeling, because after all, a human being is dead—but I can't think what this is going to do to our business. And everything we have is tied up in it.”

After a calculated pause, Ransom said, “Given today's climate I should think it would help business.”

There was a barely noticeable jolt through Samantha's body, as if a reaction were stopped abruptly almost before it started. Her face froze in incredulity. Apparently she couldn't decide if she should be affronted by this suggestion, welcome it, or be horrified.

“It would help us,” the captain said calmly, “if we could continue the tour as soon as possible. I don't have a lot of confidence in Sheriff Barnes's abilities.”

“Why is that?”

“He already has Rebecca Bremmer. I don't see any reason for him to keep us here. He should let us get on our way.”

“Even if there's a murderer on board?”

“What?” Samantha said sharply, her dark eyes widening.

The captain hadn't reacted openly, but Ransom could've sworn his spine had grown even more stiff.

“You mean there's some doubt about who murdered Miss Hemsley?” he asked.

Ransom shrugged nonchalantly. “That's why I'm here. The sheriff must've told you that.”

“No, he didn't go into details … it's just … I thought our being held here was more a formality than anything else.”

“The sheriff is not completely satisfied that Rebecca Bremmer is the murderer. And after talking to him, neither am I. Now, I realize that you've only been with these people a couple of days, but can you tell me if you've noticed anything out of the ordinary going on between any of the people on board?”

Farraday was silent for a moment, then laughed lightly. “Detective, Miss Hemsley was strangled, and she wasn't exactly a petite woman, either. This is a seniors' cruise. The passengers are, for the most part, pretty old to be doing something like that. I would say only two of the passengers are young enough and strong enough to have strangled someone, and one of them is her niece. The other one is that friend of Miss Charters.”