Ransom at Sea (4 page)

“Good morning, ladies and gentlemen, and welcome to the
Genessee.
I'm Captain Neil Farraday, and just in case you're wondering, you can call me Captain. You've met my wife, Samantha.…” Here he gave a nod of acknowledgment in her direction. “Samantha is our cruise director. If you have any questions about any of our ports of call, recreation on board or what-have-you, she will be glad to answer them. You've also met David and Hoke, our ship's stewards. They are here to see that you're kept happy, so anything you need, just ask them. One last member of the crew is Mrs. Margaret O'Malley.…” He extended a hand toward the plump woman, who beamed at the passengers. “She's the ship's cook. Not just the ship's, she's one of the best cooks I've ever run across.” Mrs. O'Malley's face reddened and she dipped her head toward the passengers.

“To those of you who haven't been to your cabins yet, you will find a complete itinerary and tentative time schedule on your nightstand. If there are any problems during the trip, please feel free to come to me directly. I'm always at your disposal. Now, I think it's time we got under way. I thank you for choosing a
Genessee
tour, and I sincerely hope you enjoy your trip, our maiden voyage for the summer. Now I'll turn things over to my wife.”

He touched two fingers to his forehead in an abbreviated salute, rounded the wheelhouse, then disappeared inside of it. Mrs. O'Malley quietly went down the stairs, and Hoke and David crossed to the boarding plank.

“In the words of your generation,” Lynn said to Emily, “he cuts a rather fine figure, doesn't he?”

Emily laughed. “I'm not sure I would assign that phrase to my generation, but you're right, he does. And so does his wife.”

The lady in question cleared her throat. “Just a few words about the boat. I'm sure you noticed the color of the boat when you arrived, patriotic red, white, and blue. The level we are now on we call the white deck, directly below us is the red deck, which is where the dining room and lounge are located. Last but not least is the blue deck, which is where your cabins are. Snacks are always available in the lounge, and drinks upon request. In about an hour we'll be serving a light lunch in the dining room. Now, as you know, this is a preseason trip specially arranged by your church. Despite the warm weather, you'll find a little less activity along the lakefront than we would later in the month when the season really begins, but there will still be plenty to do and see. As the captain said, we hope you'll enjoy your trip. And please, please let us know if you require anything at all. Thank you.”

Samantha disappeared around the corner and into the wheelhouse.

During this speech, Hoke and David hoisted the boarding plank up, swiveled it into position on the outer rim of the deck, and locked it securely into place.

When the engine started up, Emily was surprised by how quietly the machinery worked, though she'd had no reason to believe it would be otherwise. Slowly the boat began to move away from the dock and out from between its two enormous neighbors, into the wide channel alongside the pier.

“Isn't it exciting!” Muriel gushed.

“Good God,” Claudia said under her breath.

Emily's attention was caught by something on the pier. The young man she'd seen lurking in the darkness of the main building watched as the ship slid away. He then stepped out of the darkness and hurried toward the entrance of the pier. Emily noted with interest that he no longer carried his parcel.

Once the
Genessee
was clear of its larger sisters, it surveyed a slow 180-degree turn and headed out toward the breakwater. The water was calm and the sun very hot as it shone down on the deck, but the humidity was low, and a pleasant breeze tickled the few strands of gray hair that had come loose from the large bun at the back of Emily's head.

“It's peaceful, isn't it?” Lynn asked as the noise of the pier receded into the distance.

“Yes,” Emily replied. “It's been a very long time since I've been on a boat. I thought I should like to do it again. It was very nice of Jeremy to make a present of it to me.”

The Jeremy in question was Jeremy Ransom, the Chicago police detective who had become an adoptive grandson to Emily. They had met on one of Ransom's cases, and over the years had formed a bond more secure than any the detective, a confirmed lone wolf, had known before. Though the friendship between the elderly woman and the fortyish detective might've seemed a curious one to the casual onlooker, it was a relationship born of mutual trust, respect, and a sort of familial affection.

Lynn smiled. “He knew you wanted to go. Did you expect any less of him?”

“I make it a point never to expect anything,” the old woman replied. “So my life is full of pleasant surprises.”

Lynn raised her eyebrows. “As many times as you've gotten involved in murder investigations, I would think that life had enough surprises!”

Emily produced an enigmatic smile. “Yes, but consider how much more time I spend
not
involved in murder cases.”

Lynn laughed. “Emily! You make it sound like you enjoy murder!”

“Not murder, my dear,” she replied, her tone one of mild rebuke, “but I do enjoy puzzles.”

“Isn't it exciting!” Muriel exclaimed again, ostensibly to Lily DuPree but loud enough to take in the rest of the company.

Claudia Trenton sighed with exaggerated weariness from beneath the sunhat she had tilted forward. She mimicked Muriel under her breath. “Exciting.”

“Now, Claudia,” Emily said lightly.

“I wish I had your patience, Emily. But…” She hesitated before continuing with slightly less vigor. “I've never been able to suffer fools gladly.” She fished in her purse and pulled out a pair of large violet-tinted sunglasses. She put them on, laid the purse to one side, and lowered the back of her chair to the halfway mark. She then lay back with another sigh and closed her eyes.

Muriel continued to chatter happily to Lily, whose responses, if there were any, were completely inaudible to the others.

“Looks just like one of those picture postcards, doesn't it?” Martin Miller said to his wife, indicating the skyline with a sweeping gesture. Laura Miller nodded in agreement. “Just like all the postcards you see at the drugstore: the city seen from the water.”

“Yes, it does,” Laura replied. She narrowed her eyes at the scene as if trying to envision it framed in a small rectangle. Martin lifted his camera and took a picture. Then he slued toward his wife and snapped one of her. They both laughed.

“Just beautiful!” he said, turning his lens back toward the shore. “I wish … I wish our grandkids could be here. They'd love this.”

His wife's expression darkened and her chin quivered. “Marty, please…”

He instantly put an arm over her shoulder and said soothingly, “Now, honey, don't. It's all right. You wait and see.”

Driscoll's head had dropped to his chest. Having divested himself of some bluster and settled into the chair, he had quickly succumbed to the gentle movement of the boat on the water. But he wasn't completely asleep. The steady chatter from Muriel kept him from that.

“My late husband and I—did I tell you this?” She was addressing Lily DuPree, whose expression was one of baffled interest. “My late husband and I often talked about going on a cruise. Of course, that wouldn't have been on the lake, it was a world cruise that we talked about—a big one … the Orient and such. But we never got the chance to do it. He died right after he retired. That happens so often, doesn't it? You work hard and save for your retirement, and the minute you finally have the time and the means to enjoy yourself, bang! You die! And what was it all for?” Before Lily could offer an opinion, Muriel continued. “Well, I'll tell you…”

“The minute he retired and had all that time to spend with her, he died. Doesn't surprise me in the least,” Claudia murmured.

Driscoll, his head still lowered, looked over at Emily and winked rakishly. “Muriel prattles on,” he said quietly, “but she's a goodhearted soul.”

With these few words, he rose a bit in Emily's estimation. She favored him with a smile, and he let his eyes close sleepily.

Martin Miller had gotten up to take pictures of the lighthouse as the boat passed through the opening in the breakwater. The rest of the passengers looked on in a kind of confused awe, not knowing whether or not they should be impressed by the structure.

Miller's jockeying for a particular angle brought him near the foot of Emily's deck chair.

“You're a photographer, I see, Mr. Miller.”

“Sure am,” he said brightly. Like all enthusiasts he was happy to talk about his hobby. “Me and Laura, both. Have a darkroom at home and everything—don't want any cheap lab ruining my pictures! I want to get one of those digital cameras one of these days, but I'm waiting for the price to come down on the good ones first.”

“I see.”

Even though the boat was still well within sight of the shore, once they'd passed the breakwater the passengers experienced a noticeable sense of release, as if the low-lying wall that barely broke the surface of the water separated them from all of their problems. They felt as if they were now well out to sea, and that their vacation had finally begun in earnest.

“I think I'd like to go down and see our cabins now,” said Emily.

“Sure thing,” said Lynn, rising from her chair.

Emily got up and the two of them went to the staircase and started down. On the red deck, through the window to the dining room, they could see Mrs. O'Malley supervising the stewards in laying out a buffet. Emily and Lynn continued down to the blue deck and into the vestibule at the bottom of the stairs. To their left was a doorway covered by a curtain separating the crew's lodgings from those of the passengers. To the right was a narrow hallway lined on both sides with cabins, the odd numbers on the left and even on the right.

Lynn's room, number 11, was the last on the left, and Emily's room was kitty-corner to it.

“I'm afraid you're going to have Miss Langstrom for a neighbor,” Lynn said.

Emily smiled. “That's quite all right. I'll trust that she doesn't talk in her sleep.”

“If she doesn't, it's only because she doesn't have anything left to say.”

Lynn opened the door to number 10 and stood aside as Emily entered. Despite the attempt to evoke a certain amount of old-world charm in the rest of the
Genessee,
the cabins were a marvel of modern, if cramped, convenience. Directly to the right of the door was a closet, to the left a bathroom, barely large enough to turn around in, with a shower stall constructed of heavy plastic. The sink was located in the room itself, next to the closet. A twin bed was hard against the left corner of the room, and beside it was tiny chest on which a small brass lamp stood, its base designed to look like a ship's compass and weighted to keep it in place. Above the chest was a high porthole. The room was so immaculately clean it looked as if it had never before been occupied.

“Well!” Emily said appreciatively. “Even Mr. Driscoll must approve of the rooms.”

Emily's suitcase had been laid on the bed. Lynn popped it open. “Have a seat. I'll just unpack your things.”

“You don't have to do that, I can take care of it,” Emily protested mildly.

“I know you can. But I want to.”

She pulled out the first dress, a lightweight beige, held it up, shook it out, then slipped it onto one of the stationary hangers in the closet. She did the same with the rest. As she worked, she said, “Emily … I was just wondering.…” She hesitated, narrowing her eyes at a small wrinkle in one of the garments.

“Yes?” said Emily.

“You did want me to come along with you on this trip, didn't you?”

“Of course I did! Why would you ask that?”

“Well…”

Emily smiled knowingly. “You heard the way Miss Hemsley spoke to her niece.”

Lynn nodded. “She certainly seemed to resent the idea of being … accompanied.”

Emily shook her head slowly. “That's not what she resents.”

“It's not?”

“She resents the fact that she
needs
company. You came along with me as a friend, and I'm very glad you did. Surely you knew it was safe for me to travel on my own.”

Lynn paused for a split second as she stowed some of Emily's linens in the top drawer of the chest. It was a slight but telling gesture. “You want me to be honest?”

“Yes?” Emily said with some surprise.

“Well, Emily, I know you're a perfectly capable woman, but that doesn't stop me from worrying about you.” She looked down as if a bit ashamed of herself. “I mean, I know you can take care of yourself, but when you first brought up the subject of this cruise, I was … concerned.”

“Yes,” said Emily.

“I knew you'd be fine on your own, but I … felt better about it knowing that I was coming with you.” She looked into Emily's eyes again, her cheeks an attractive red, and shrugged. “Besides, I thought it might be fun. As Miss DuPree would say, I've never been on a ship before.” She added this in such a perfect imitation of the other woman's breathless speech that Emily couldn't help but laugh.

“Are you angry with me?” Lynn asked after a pause.

“Good heavens, no! You wanted to come even though you knew I'd be fine. Rebecca Bremmer came with her aunt because she knew she wouldn't be.”

2

At twelve-thirty the captain announced over the loudspeaker that lunch was being served in the dining room. The passengers assembled quickly, more from curiosity than from hunger, each eager for a first glimpse of what the cuisine and service would be like for the next few days. They were not disappointed. There were plates piled with a variety of fruit and perfectly rounded scoops of fresh melon, a platter of cold meats and cheeses, three different kinds of salads, stacks of bread, and pats of butter in small bowls of ice. It was simple fare, but admirably abundant.