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) 📗

found it hard to concentrate because the expression on Freda’s face said she had something to impart that would please her sister. Pauline nodded as surreptitiously as she could. She hoped that now the walls were down, they may learn much more to their advantage.

The walk too was uneventful, apart from the wasps that bugged them the moment they left the shore. Fortunately, the insect repellant they wore almost every time they set foot on an island seemed to keep the things from alighting and stinging anyone.

The island really was one of the most pleasant in the archipelago. Remains of old roads and homes with their gardens could be seen among the undergrowth. It was strange to think people had come here, settled, and lived comfortably for decades, centuries even, before abandoning the island when the capital was moved to Santa Cruz and the National Park established.

After their walk, easier on this most hospitable island, they snorkeled in the warm waters of the bay. An idyllic morning that Pauline found rather flat. Uninspiring was her opinion as she floated in the water looking up into the eternally clear blue sky. She had no new thoughts on the case and time was running out.

“You’re very quiet,” Freda said, rejoining her sister as she lay floating in the water.

“I’m letting my subconscious work its magic,” Pauline said, not entirely satirically. She really was hoping something would strike a chord.

“Do you want to hear what I learned?” Freda asked.

Pauline tried to look around, realized that couldn’t be done floating on her back and struggled to a more upright position treading water. Other swimmers were close, too close for safe discussion.

“Later, Freddie,” she said. “When we’re alone.”

“Then I’ll leave you to your musings,” Freda replied, “before I drive them all away.”

“They’ve had long enough and haven’t delivered,” Pauline said, resetting her goggles over her eyes and rolling to once again study the undersea life that swam below them. They paddled slowly across the rocky seabed, pointing out highlights to each other, letting the time drift away with the tide.

As she and Freda dried themselves and dressed to return to the boat, Pauline said, “We still haven’t found the men who were on deck that night.”

“I’m not sure they exist,” Freda replied. “Arvin didn’t hear them and Rod doesn’t mention them. The only ones who heard them were Ruth and Isaac. Don’t you think that odd?”

“Maybe,” Pauline said. “It may just be the timing but why would they even mention it if it didn’t happen? I don’t think Mennonites are naturally dishonest or mischievous people.”

“No, or natural murderers either.”

“I have to say, you might have something there, Freddie,” Pauline said. “What if they aren’t Mennonites?”

“Not Mennonites? Why would anyone dress and present themselves that way if they weren’t?”

“I don’t know,” Pauline said. “It’s just that many times when they’ve been speaking to others, I’ve felt that Isaac, particularly, is laughing at us all. I thought it was because he sees us as unenlightened souls and, consequently, little more than children but what if it’s because they’re playing a prank on us all?”

“But why?”

“How should I know? A bet with friends back home? A whim?”

“Nonsense, Polly. You’re losing your touch, if not your actual mind.”

“That’s possible too,” Pauline said. “This is a puzzling case.”

“Probably because it isn’t actually a case.”

Pauline sighed. “You still have doubts, Freddie? I hope they aren’t preventing you from chatting in a meaningful way with our fellow guests.”

“It’s because I’m chatting with them my doubts are growing and so is the resistance I’m meeting when I ask a question on the subject. Aren’t you finding that too?”

“There’s always distrust when people ask questions,” Pauline said. “You have to understand people don’t want to be involved and to make that happen they say as little as they can.”

“Well, you do some questioning when we get back to the boat and see if what I’m saying isn’t true.”

“It maybe because you haven’t an official appointment to question people the way I have,” Pauline said, “but I will continue questioning people and see if you’re right.”

Pauline’s opportunity to ask questions came sooner than even she could have hoped for, shortly after dressing and before the tenders arrived to take those wishing to return to the ship, she found herself alone with Ruth. Isaac was talking to a man farther along the beach.

“Do you find these birds and animals as fascinating as many seem to?” Pauline asked, while she was pushing her wet towel and bathing cap into her bag.

Ruth shook her head. “No,” she said. “They’re all God’s creatures and made as he intended them. I don’t say Darwin was wrong, only that adapting to suit your environment isn’t so big a change and suggesting it leads to new species, well, I leave that to others to argue about.”

“I just find the differences too minute to see,” Pauline said, “which leaves me lost. It’s an odd thing for me to admit to as I usually pride myself on seeing what others don’t.”

“But small differences are huge, aren’t they,” Ruth said. “Tiny differences in doctrine leads to so much religious and social strife because it changes everything.”

“That’s very true,” Pauline agreed. “In fact, I think, the smaller the disagreement, the larger the quarrel is often the case.”

“We,” Ruth said, hesitantly, “have powerful evidence of that in our own lives. My parents have quite cast us off because of Isaac’s radical notions. This trip will certainly mean they will shun me forever.”

“Yet you still came on it.”

“Yes. You must follow your own truth in the world, don’t you think?” Ruth asked. “This isn’t a childish rebellion Isaac and I are on, Miss Riddell. It’s a determination to bring some of the good things of the modern world into our world, without destroying what is good in our world.”

“I do think we have to follow our own truth, however hard that is,” Pauline agreed. “I’ve been puzzled to explain your presence on the cruise, to be honest with