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) 📗

The other, I think, the same deck but around the other side. That’s how it seemed anyhow. As I said, ordinary. Nothing that would suggest violence.”

“That’s good to know. Now, if we can find those people, they may have heard something that you didn’t.”

Pedro called a halt and the group gathered around him. “We rest here for five minutes, no more,” he said. “Drink lots of water because we will be out in the sun for the return trip and it is very hot.”

One of the more argumentative passengers pounced on Ruth and Isaac. Pauline, though sorry for the young couple, took her chance and left them to their fate. She moved quickly over to where Freda was waiting.

“Did you learn anything?” Freda asked as Pauline joined her.

“Yes. There were others on deck that night.”

“No one has mentioned being there.”

“No, they haven’t so we need to find out who, when, and why they haven’t mentioned it.”

“That’s easy,” Freda said. “No one has asked them. You and Somerville have been busy asking questions of the very few people you suspect. If I wasn’t being asked, I wouldn’t volunteer any information either.”

Pauline smiled. “I thought you were an upright, honest citizen,” she said.

“I thought so too,” Freda admitted, “until I realized this is serious and bad things happen to simple people who get caught up in serious things.”

“Still regretting volunteering to help detect, Freddie,” Pauline said, grinning.

“I honestly don’t know why you choose to do this. One day someone will kill you. You do know that, don’t you?”

Pauline’s expression changed to one of long ago and far away. She shook herself and replied, “A long time ago, my friend Poppy said I was a soldier in the war against injustice. At the time, it seemed over the top. I was just trying to find out why another friend had been murdered. The words have stayed with me, though, and I think they explain it best. I may be killed one day, as you say, but it will be in a just cause and what more can anyone ask for in the end?”

“A quiet ‘going to sleep’ in my own bed with my family around me,” Freda snapped. “And that feels quite unlikely right now.”

“I don’t have a family,” Pauline said. “Now, when we get back, circulate and start asking questions. We need to find the men on deck that evening and learn what they heard and saw.”

When they returned to the landing site, they found many of those who had taken the short, slower walk were already snorkeling around the rocks that formed the breakwater.

Pauline and Freda liked the look of the calm shallow waters of the small bay. After the heat on the hike, they thought a swim would be perfect. They both took the offered goggles and snorkel.

Pedro had told them the water on this side of the island was cold because of the peculiar way currents lifted water from the deep to the surface. For the sisters, used to bathing in the North Sea off Yorkshire’s coast, they found it warm but still refreshing and nothing like the harsh waters they were used to. Underwater, colorful fish and rays swam by, along with what looked like small torpedoes that they knew were actually penguins, the only penguins to live this far north – and only because the cold water made it possible. An occasional shark sailed across their vision, which was unnerving. If they hadn’t been told they were nurse sharks and harmless, they would have left the water vertically like cartoon characters and not stopped paddling air until they reached the beach.

Back onboard, Pauline was met by the security officer, Sanchez, and escorted to the Captain’s cabin where she found Somerville had already arrived.

“I have Señor Hidalgo on the radio, Miss Riddell,” Captain Ferguson said. “I felt it would be good for you and Detective Somerville to meet him, even if it has to be at a distance. This way you can ask directly what information you’re looking for.”

Mr. Hidalgo fortunately spoke excellent English, so Pauline and Somerville were able to ask questions and receive answers that required no interpretation or explanation.

“In your mind,” Pauline asked, in conclusion, “the checks you did confirmed Jose was a genuine refugee and the other members of the crew from this part of the world are highly unlikely to be linked to any of the various factions fighting for control in Peru?”

“That is correct,” Hidalgo said. “We have to be very careful with our hiring here, as you can imagine. There are many different political groups who have the support of many people. We did extensive checks on all of them.”

Somerville asked, “You say there was no evidence Jose took part in violence but can you really be sure? He admitted to leading the guerillas who’d captured him to the village where he’d lived. That alone must be suspicious.”

“We thought of all that, Detective, but remember, he was little more than a child when he was taken by them and they assured him they had the best intentions in going to the village. Their mission, they said, was to help and support the people. He was traumatized by what happened.”

“You say a child but this was less than two years ago,” Pauline said. “He was just twenty when he died and therefore around eighteen or nineteen when it happened. I don’t consider nineteen a child. I suspect many of the guerrilla band were much the same age.”

“Nevertheless,” Hidalgo said, “our intensive review of his life and known behavior convinced us it would be wrong to decide against him. And, after all, it is he who was the victim here, assuming there was any wrongdoing.”

“The point is, his behavior in the past may have led to his death,” Somerville said.

“All the evidence says he was a victim then and maybe he is a victim again.” Hidalgo paused, and then added, “Have you considered suicide? Could it not be that his experiences