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) 📗

“There will be no charge, Captain. I haven’t explained either the accident or the violent death, so you and the company owe me nothing.”

Captain Ferguson appeared to be about to argue but Pauline said no again and that was the end of it. The end of the official case and the detecting team but not the end of Pauline’s whirlwind of thoughts.

17

At Sea

After the briefing ended, Pauline headed to the ship’s small ecumenical chapel. She pushed open the door and stopped when she saw the priest inside. She’d hoped the room would be empty.

“Come in,” the priest said, “I’m just tidying up. I’ll be gone in a moment.”

Pauline stepped inside and waited.

“Or did you want to speak to someone?” the priest asked.

“Only God,” Pauline said. “I have a problem I’d like to discuss with him.”

“Well, I’m just next door if you do want to talk,” the man said. He left the chapel and Pauline took a seat near the front. The quiet was a relief after the dining and lounge areas and the general background noise of people and machinery elsewhere on the ship.

She sat for some time gazing at the plain altar and cross, that the priest had been preparing for the evening service, before lifting a thin book of prayers from the pouch of the seat in front of her. She opened it and slowly scanned the pages, hoping to find one that would give insight into the problem she was wrestling with. Because it was a book designed to meet the common elements of all the Christian faiths, none seemed to quite fit. She couldn’t decide if that meant what she was looking for was in the sterner parts of the Old Testament or that what she was contemplating was just plain wrong. She closed the book and replaced it. Deciding not to wait and attend the evening service, Pauline rose, crossed herself, something she’d started doing all those years ago at the High Anglican church she’d attended with the Bertrams, and quickly left the chapel.

Back in the lounge, Freda was so involved in the card games and conversation, Pauline suspected she may not have even been missed. The moment she sat, Maria arrived to take her order.

“Good evening, Miss Riddell. Your usual English Breakfast tea and a pastry?”

“Yes, please, Maria. What pastries do we have tonight?”

“Our usual selection, Miss Riddell. I don’t think there’s anything new.”

“Nothing new in pastries, perhaps,” Pauline said, “but for me, everything seems new today. I’m sorry to say.”

“I too have found new isn’t always better in life,” Maria said.

“Perhaps you could tell me about that,” Pauline said. “Later, after your shift is finished.”

“I think it will be too horrible for you,” Maria said. “Where you live, horrible things don’t often happen and you would be upset.”

“I’m more familiar with evil than you think, Maria, and your experience may help me decide what I must do. I’ve a decision to make and it gives me great pain.”

“Perhaps, tomorrow, Señorita. I work here late and then in the laundry.”

“Tomorrow, then,” Pauline said.

18

Santa Cruz Island, Cerro Dragon

Their final landing was a dry one, for which Pauline was grateful. Trying to get everything dry in the cabin before they left the ship at Guayaquil would have been practically impossible.

As if to send them home with a vivid memory, the day was hotter than ever, the land once again rocky and broken, and the vegetation desert-like. Cerro Dragon meant ‘hill of the dragons’, or in this case, iguanas. The hike took them up the hill with the iguanas scuttling off the path, where they’d been sunning themselves. Pauline found the land iguanas infinitely more attractive than their marine cousins they’d been seeing on the other islands. Their coloring, which kept them camouflaged amongst the dusty, rocky ground, was less offensive to her than the ugly dark greens and reds of the sea-going iguanas.

“I wish we could have gone back to the tortoises,” Freda said, as they puffed their way to the crown of the hill.

“Me too,” Pauline said. As they reached the summit and the view was before them, she added, “but the hike is worth it just for this view.”

“It’s nice,” Freda agreed, “but my vote would still be with the tortoises. I think we can almost see them from here.” She pointed to the hills farther down the coast.

Pauline nodded as she surveyed the land below them, where iguanas waddled between the short vegetation, nibbling the leaves. In places it looked like the ground was alive, there were so many.

“I was glad, relieved really, to hear the captain’s announcement this morning,” Freda said.

“I’m pleased you were pleased,” Pauline said. Iguanas that had been scared off when they reached this spot began returning to their resting places in the sun. Not only was their sandy-colored skin more attractive, Pauline thought, their faces were too. As they strained their heads up to the sun, they seemed to smile at the warmth it gave. It wasn’t quite the connection she’d felt with the turtle but it was close. Maybe she was beginning to appreciate these strange creatures just too late to enjoy them.

“You’re not happy with the result, are you?” Freda said, breaking into Pauline’s thoughts.

“I’m not but I’m happier with it this morning than I was when it was discussed at the briefing last night.”

“What changed?”

“Overnight, with the pressure off, my mind finally settled on the truth,” Pauline said.

“You don’t look or sound any happier, Polly. If this is you happier, I’d hate to see you depressed. You haven’t spoken a word all the way up the hill.”

“I know the truth and I don’t like it. We will talk to the culprit tonight and if what I hear confirms my fears, I’ve a terrible decision to make.”

“Who is it?”

Pauline smiled. “When we hear what they say, then we can decide. Until then, you’ll have to