It's Murder, On a Galapagos Cruise: An Amateur Female Sleuth Historical Cozy Mystery (Miss Riddell C by P.C. James (the best ebook reader for android TXT) 📗

“Hmm, probably. If the police are happy it was an accident, Polly, will you continue investigating?”

“I plan to because it might set Captain Ferguson’s mind at ease. But really, it’s nothing to do with us and, as I said, I’m sure there’s a very sordid answer to this death that has nothing to do with the ship’s company or the cruise line.”

“But the murderer may stay on the ship,” Freda said.

“Unlikely. Their job is done. They will leave when the voyage is over and return to their gang.”

“In my work, I’ve patched up all sorts of victims of accidents and diseases but rarely human violence,” Freda said, thinking aloud.

“That’s because you worked in rural Cottage Hospitals,” Pauline said. “If you’d been in a city hospital, you would.”

“You would think we could all get along, wouldn’t you, with all this beauty around us.”

“You’re growing sentimental, Freddie. It isn’t described as ‘nature, red in tooth and claw’ because the world is a beautiful place.”

After the tortoise breeding center, wandering the small town was disappointing. Tourism was only getting a foothold, but the main street already had more gift shops than regular stores. They spent some time viewing ponchos and lace headdresses before continuing back to the quay.

Like quaysides at home, there was a busy fish market but here there was lots more to see and not just in the greater selection of seafood than they were used to.

“Those pelicans begging for scraps are funny,” Pauline said, as they watched the huge birds hopping from floor to countertop like sparrows at a picnic.

“Not very hygienic,” Freda replied, grimacing, her hospital training to the fore.

Pauline laughed. “Then don’t eat the ceviche at dinner tonight.”

“Oh, Lord. I had that last night, didn’t I?”

“You did but I’m sure the fish didn’t come from this market.”

“It could have come from one very like it, though, couldn’t it?”

“The tour company will have been very careful to keep our Western tummies safe, you can be sure,” Pauline said.

“I hope you’re right, but I won’t be eating raw fish again.”

“Let’s walk to the end of the pier and get away from these distressing sights,” Pauline said, laughing at her sister’s pained expression.

As they approached the end of the pier, however, they saw Arvin Weiss staring into the shelter intended to protect people from the wind.

“Most people would look out over the harbor,” Freda said, shaking her head in disbelief, “but not Arvin. Should we turn around?”

“It’s too late,” Pauline replied. “He’s seen us and wants us to join him.”

Arvin was waving them to come but in a strange slow-motion way that suggested great care.

“What do you think is in that shelter?” Freda asked.

Pauline laughed. “Can it be worse than pelicans on fish market counters?”

“Hello, Arvin,” Freda began as they neared him.

He put his finger to his lips.

Pauline and Freda could now see inside the shelter. Lying full-length along a bench made for at least six people was a seal, its brown fur drying in the sun, and a dignified but unamused expression on its face.

Freda quickly took a photo. “I don’t think it likes being disturbed,” she said.

“It is rude of us to stare,” Pauline agreed.

“How did it get there?” Arvin said. “That’s what beats me.”

“It’s obviously more agile on land than we think seals should be,” Pauline said, “but I agree, how did it do that?”

“Practice,” Freda said. “It probably suns itself here every fine day.”

“Nobody would fight it for the seat, that’s for sure,” Arvin said, grinning.

It was the first time Pauline had seen Arvin enjoying himself and it made her feel ridiculously pleased for him.

Freda walked around the back of the shelter. “There isn’t one this side,” she called, “but there’s no sun either.” She returned to join the other two who were still watching the seal who glared back impassively, daring them to shoo it away.

The seal yawned, displaying a fine set of sharp pointed flesh-tearing teeth and the three stepped back as one.

“I think we should leave it to its rest,” Pauline said, turning away.

Arvin too set off with them. “Do you really think it lies there every day?”

“Whenever it wants to, I imagine,” Pauline said. “I don’t think people here eat seals so it’s quite safe.”

“You would think the locals would want to sit in the sun some days, weekends, maybe,” Arvin said.

“Would you want to sit there now? You’d never get the smell out of your clothes.”

“I guess not,” Arvin agreed. “Still, having a shelter you can’t use must be a real bummer for the locals.”

“Maybe people here like seals more than sunshine,” Freda said.

“Could be,” Arvin said. “Say, did you ladies hear anything more about the death on board last night?”

“No,” Pauline said quickly. “Why, did you?”

“The police were grilling the crew pretty hard when I came ashore. I thought there may be more to it than an accident.”

“You didn’t see the tortoises then?”

“Nah, ugly brutes. I knew somebody who had one when I was a kid. It was a little one, not a big one. It did nothing but eat, sleep and poop so far as I could tell. Can’t imagine a giant one would be any different.”

Pauline smiled. “Not a lot different, that’s true. I’m not sure they even knew we were there, to be honest. People were milling around them, but they just went on eating.”

“Then I saved myself the cost of the excursion,” Arvin said. “You relieved my mind.”

“To the matter you mentioned earlier, the death on board,” Pauline said, “did you see or hear anything odd last night?”

“Me? Why would I?”

“No reason, I just wondered. You’d think some of us would have heard or seen something.”

“Most of our fellow passengers are so old they wouldn’t hear if a bomb fell, let alone a body.”

“You’re probably right,” Pauline agreed, “and the lounge was loud with music and conversation. People were finally relaxing after the journey to get here.”

“It was too loud for me and I didn’t feel too good,” Arvin