Ransom at Sea Read online

  * * *

  “They wouldn’t let me bring your things back here,” Lynn said as she took a seat on the bench outside Rebecca’s cell. “They’re keeping them out there.”

  “That’s all right,” Rebecca replied colorlessly. “Thank you for getting them.”

  There was a long silence. Lynn was finding it difficult to make conversation: discussing the situation seemed futile, and making small talk seemed brutally inappropriate under the circumstances. In the silence she fought with the turmoil of her feelings for Rebecca, another topic that she didn’t deem proper at the moment. But the feelings existed, and Lynn had to hold back the overwhelming urge to declare them.

  Rebecca was staring at a spot on the cement floor. Without looking up, she quietly asked, “Has … has Detective Ransom found out anything?”

  Heat rushed into Lynn’s chest. It was a simple question, but it was also the first indication that Rebecca might actually maintain a kernel of hope. It made sense, since the shock of what had happened must be starting to wear off, and she was probably becoming more aware of her position. Lynn only wished her answer could be more positive.

  “Yes, he has,” she said, inwardly warning herself against fostering any false hope. “Well, not anything tangible—but I know he agrees with Emily, that things don’t seem right on that boat.” She paused, then added, “He really will solve this.”

  Rebecca raised her head and revealed a smile. Lynn couldn’t remember whether or not she’d seen her smile before. It wasn’t broad, and was definitely halfhearted, but it was there.

  “You make him sound like The Saint.”

  Lynn returned the smile. “Nothing like that. Ransom is far from that. But his results are the same.”

  Rebecca unexpectedly laughed, albeit lightly. But what little there had been of a smile soon vanished. “Lynn, I really can’t—I don’t know … how to thank you for what you’ve been doing.…”

  “You don’t have to.”

  “And I really do appreciate you going to the trouble of packing up my things … and Aunt Marci’s.”

  “It wasn’t any trouble.”

  “I don’t know why, but it makes me feel better knowing that everything’s here.”

  “It was no prob—” She broke off and grimaced. “Oh, damn!”

  “What is it?”

  She sighed. “I didn’t bring everything. I just remembered, I forgot something.”

  “What?”

  “That package. Didn’t you tell me your aunt had some package that you found when you were unpacking for her?”

  “Oh, yeah.”

  “I’m sorry, I forgot to look for it.”

  “It’s nothing. Given the … the state of her mind, it was probably a box of spoons or something.”

  “I don’t remember seeing it. Do you know where she put it?”

  “She slipped it under the bed.”

  “I’ll bring it in the morning.”

  They fell silent for a time. Lynn thought, not without an inner warmth, that it was as companionable a silence as two people could experience with bars separating them.

  * * *

  Dinner had long since concluded by the time Ransom made it back to the Genessee, and most of the passengers had gone up to the white deck to relax. When he came up the gangplank he spotted Emily sitting on a chair with its back to the wheelhouse, where she had a full view of her fellow passengers. Her hands were folded in her lap, and her eyes glazed over. She resembled an elderly Buddha pondering the riddles of the universe within herself. When she saw Ransom, her eyes livened.

  His appearance had a different effect on the rest of the passengers. Having settled into a postmeal torpor, the sight of the detective caused an immediate crackle in the atmosphere, as if everyone on board had tensed at once.

  With his eyes on his elderly friend, he gave a very slight nod in the direction of the staircase, then went to it and descended to the red deck. He glanced into the dining room and found that everything had been cleared, and nobody was around. Emily followed shortly thereafter and they held a brief council by the railing.

  “I’m so glad you’ve come back,” she began rather breathlessly. “There’s something I want to tell you.”

  “You’ve discovered something?”

  She hesitated. “No, not exactly that. But I am convinced now that Rebecca did not murder her aunt.”

  “I thought you were convinced of that before.”

  “I believed it before, partly because of the bizarre circumstances surrounding the death, and from having observed her on this trip, I didn’t think she was capable of the murder. But now I’m convinced of it.”

  “Why?”

  “I was able to talk to Lily DuPree again at dinner, to try to get her to remember for certain whether or not Joaquin was last to leave the boat. Once the idea was introduced, she became very confused.” She paused and clucked her tongue. “Poor thing, I’m afraid she’s very easily addled and terribly unreliable.”

  “Emily…”

  “Oh, yes, I’m sorry. Anyway, Lily said she couldn’t be sure because she heard so many footsteps while she was drifting in and out of sleep. She said the whole thing was a jumble. That’s why I’m convinced Rebecca couldn’t have done it.”

  “I’m not following you,” he said when Emily failed to elaborate.

  “‘So many footsteps,’ you see. So many people coming and going. The murderer would’ve been taking an awful chance had he or she planned to commit the murder here. Too much of a chance.”

  “Yes. That’s what you thought from the beginning, and it’s the very thing that’s bothered Barnes about it. He wondered why Rebecca didn’t simply kill her aunt in the woods, then claim she’d lost track of her. It would’ve looked as if some stranger had come upon her and killed her.”

  “Exactly,” Emily replied, sounding rather excited. “I don’t think the murder could’ve been planned, and that rules out Rebecca. Why would she have suddenly killed her aunt? That wouldn’t make any sense.”

  Ransom nodded. “Well, you’ll be pleased to know that there’s some credence to the idea that someone—even a stranger watching the boat—could’ve come onto it unobserved.” He smiled. “Just like in Buckingham Palace.”

  “Really?” the old woman replied, her head tilting slightly.

  “Yes. Your friend Claudia Trenton managed it.”

  “Claudia?”

  He nodded. “She was caught on one of the Millers’ photos coming back to the boat.”

  “Claudia…,” Emily said again, looking thoroughly mystified.

  “Yes. But I don’t think it means she had anything to do with the murder. It’s one of their earlier pictures. She must’ve come right back to the boat, and as Barnes pointed out, she couldn’t very well have hidden for the next hour with the stewards doing the rooms, and then killed Marcella for whatever reason, and escaped the boat.”

  “No, she couldn’t,” said Emily. “But you know, she didn’t come up to dinner this evening. Mrs. Farraday is quite worried about her. It occurs to me, Jeremy, that as distressed as she is over what happened, perhaps she saw something when she came back … or heard something … that has caused her distress. Only…” Her voice trailed off and her expression adopted the vacant quality it had when she was mulling over something that didn’t quite make sense.

  “Only what?” Ransom said with some impatience.

  “Only … why?”

  He waited, then said, “You’ll have to give me more than that.”

  “Why be so distressed, and keep to herself? She wasn’t just distressed, she was afraid. If she didn’t have anything to do with the murder.… if she only thinks she knows something about it … why not tell you or the sheriff? Surely that is the way to ensure her safety.”

  “We’ll never know until we ask her.”

  Ransom led Emily down the second flight of stairs and soon they were at Claudia’s door. He knocked, and a voice from inside said, “Come in.”

&nb
sp; Emily preceded Ransom into the room. They found Claudia sitting up on her bed. The tray that the captain’s wife had provided her sat on the bedside table untouched. Although her complexion was still very pale, she had brushed her hair and dressed herself in a lavender suit, as if she were planning a dinner out or a shopping expedition.

  “What do you want?” she asked without expression.

  “Claudia, you haven’t eaten anything,” Emily said. “That’s not good. You must keep up your strength.”

  “I wasn’t hungry.”

  “You remember Detective Ransom?”

  Claudia nodded but didn’t look at him.

  “Miss Trenton,” said Ransom, “I’m afraid there are one or two more questions I need to ask you.”

  “Yes?”

  “You told us, and you told the sheriff, that yesterday you left the boat and went to the visiter’s center with the others, then went off on your own to trail three. Is that correct?”

  “Yes.”

  “You didn’t do anything else?”

  She turned her eyes toward him. The area just above her nose was pinched. “No.”

  After a beat, he said, “Are you sure about that? You didn’t, by chance, come back to the boat for some reason?”

  “No!” she said quickly. She attempted her former haughtiness, but it didn’t work.

  “What if I were to tell you that you were caught on film?”

  “What?”

  “The Millers were taking pictures, as you might remember. Although they were far away from the boat, I’m afraid they did catch you on film coming back to it.”

  Tears brimmed in her eyes, and she trembled as if the strain were about to break her apart. “I … I … yes, I did. But I didn’t—” She broke off and buried her face in her hands.

  “Claudia,” Emily said gently, “no one believes you had anything to do with the murder.”

  Ransom raised an eyebrow at his elderly partner, and she responded with a cautionary glance.

  “I didn’t!” Claudia exclaimed, looking up at her. “But I’ve been so afraid!”

  “Afraid because you saw something?”

  Claudia looked down at the floor and shook her head.

  “Because you thought someone might’ve seen you?”

  There was a long pause before Claudia responded. She pulled herself together somewhat, raised her head and wiped the tears away. “Does anyone have a tissue?”

  Emily reached into her pocket and withdrew a small pack of tissues, which she handed to her.

  Claudia took them without a thank-you, dabbed at her eyes and then blew her nose. She seemed to regain some of her old manner. “Excuse me. I realize I’ve been idiotic. I thought—” She broke off and turned to Ransom. “There really isn’t anything about my coming back. I didn’t say anything because I was … frightened to. That was foolish, I know. And … and cowardly. But in my whole life I’ve never been mixed up in anything like this. Can you understand that?”

  She said this last part with an earnestness that surprised her audience.

  “I suppose I can,” said Emily. “In the past few years I’ve become rather inured to murder.”

  Claudia gave her a curious glance, then turned back to Ransom. “As I told you, I wanted to be on my own. Away from anyone on the tour. I picked up one of the brochures and then started out … and then … then I realized I’d forgotten my glasses, and I went back to get them.”

  Emily said gently, “Claudia, I seem to remember you wearing those large sunglasses of yours.”

  The sudden, unmistakable tinge of fear returned to the other woman’s eyes, then slacked after a moment. “Those weren’t prescription. I needed my regular glasses if … if I was going to read anything.”

  “I see,” said Ransom. “When you came back, you didn’t run into anyone? A member of the crew?”

  She shook her head sadly. “No, but I heard them cleaning the cabins, so I … I just got my glasses and left.”

  “After getting your glasses.”

  “Yes … of course.”

  “And how long were you onboard?”

  “Just a … not more than a couple of minutes.”

  * * *

  “That was a very unsatisfying interview,” Ransom said quietly once he and Emily had gone back to Emily’s cabin. He was seated on the chair that matched the one in Claudia’s room, and Emily was seated on the edge of the bed.

  “It is very perplexing. I suppose its possible that she simply came back for her glasses, but…” She shook her head slowly. “There is clearly something wrong. I can’t get past the idea that her distress exceeds what one would expect, even under these circumstances. If it was a very sensitive person, or someone who was very timid, I could understand it, but Claudia is neither of those things. She is quite strong. It seems most out of character for her to fall apart because of the death of someone she hardly knew, even if it did happen nearby, or that she would be that upset at the idea of having been seen coming back to the boat.”

  “Yes,” said Ransom. “Her choice of words was very interesting. I mean, when she said ‘I’ve never been mixed up in something like this.’”

  “Yes … it’s as if her reserve is cracking, and bits of truth were seeping out. It isn’t surprising given that she hasn’t been sleeping.”

  “Hmm. And when you offered the possibility that she was afraid that someone might’ve seen her return to the boat—”

  Emily was nodding. “She snatched at it … or at least, she seemed relieved.…” Her thin brows knit together. “That’s the word for it. Relieved. The puzzling thing is that she seemed more relieved to explain her fear than she was to explain her return to the boat.”

  Ransom sighed. “But I’m damned if I know what that woman could have to do with the murder!”

  * * *

  Ransom had left the boat long before Lynn returned, dropped off by one of the deputies at the request of Sheriff Barnes, who himself had gone home after showing Ransom the photos. Lynn’s footsteps rang hollow on the wooden path alongside the general store. She rounded the corner onto the dock and came to a stop, struck by the grim picturesqueness of the scene. The Genessee was moored in place, its patriotic stripes blackened in the darkness. A dim light in the wheelhouse revealed the captain and his wife sitting side by side, her head resting against his shoulder. Diffused light from the portholes on the starboard bow of the red deck indicated that someone might be in the bar, and on the blue deck light shone from only one porthole.

  The Genessee was set against an inky blue overcast night sky with a thin streak of magenta that formed a false horizon. To Lynn the scene looked like a romanticized painting of a harbor in decay. She shook her head and made her way down the dock.

  The weariness didn’t hit her until she set foot on the gangplank. As she ascended, she felt as if the skin was sagging from her body, pulled by an irresistibly strengthened force of gravity. She would, she thought, be very glad to get to bed.

  But before going to her cabin she went to Marcella Hemsley’s. She switched on the overhead light and the room sprang into relief. Lynn gave an involuntary shudder. Viewing the room from the doorway brought vividly back to her the sight of the elderly woman sprawled hideously across the bed, as she was when she and Emily had found her. The bed now empty, the memory somehow seemed unreal, as if it was something she’d imagined or dreamed.

  I must be losing my mind, she thought. It didn’t bother me at all to be in here alone this afternoon.

  She marshaled herself and went into the room. Getting down on her hands and knees, she lowered her face near the floor and peered under the bed, but there was nothing there.

  “What are you doing?” asked a voice out of the blue.

  “Jesus!” Lynn exclaimed, instantly righting herself.

  David Douglas was standing in the doorway, his hands resting on either side of it. “Sorry, I didn’t mean to scare you.”

  “It’s all right,” she replied, her manner becoming rig
id when she saw who it was. “I didn’t realize until you spoke how quiet it was.”

  “Yeah.” There was a hint of a smile. Lynn suspected he was pleased that he’d startled her. “Um … what are you doing?”

  “I was asked to pack up Rebecca’s things, and her aunt’s,” she said.

  “Yeah, I heard. You already did that, didn’t you?”

  “Yes, I did,” she said as she started to get up from the floor. Perhaps it was a reaction to his overt curiosity, but somehow she didn’t like the idea of giving him specific information.

  Douglas came into the room and placed a firm hand on her elbow to help her up. She jerked it free and rose with no effort.

  “So if you already did it, what are you doing here now?”

  “Being thorough,” she replied with a hard smile. “I just wanted to double-check and make sure I got everything.”

  “Oh. Do you want some help?”

  “Thank you, no.”

  He shrugged easily. “Okey-doke.”

  Douglas went away, then Lynn closed the door. She turned around and looked at the room, absently running the fingers of her right hand through her hair. Her hand came to rest on the nape of her neck, which she rubbed for a moment. Then with a sigh, she went to work searching the room. It didn’t take long to cover the small confines of the cabin, and Lynn was left even more puzzled when she found nothing. She sat down on the bed and pondered where an addled elderly woman might hide a parcel, and after a while decided that the prospects might not be limited to her own room. Someone on the outskirts of Alzheimer’s disease might very well have taken it into her head to hide it in the boat’s pantry, or a storage cupboard somewhere, or under someone else’s bed.

  Lynn sighed again, got up, and crossed to the door. She switched off the light and went to her own cabin. She didn’t undress but rather lay on the bed, her hands cupped behind her head, staring up at the faint rippling circle on the ceiling, reflecting off the water though the porthole.

  Something about the package was nagging at her mind—not the fact that she couldn’t find it but something else: only she couldn’t remember what it was.

  9

  Ransom was just about to leave his motel room the next morning when a call came on his cell phone from his partner, Gerald White. After the customary greetings, Ransom said, “Did you get anything?”