Ransom at Sea (21 page)

“Of course. But the best thing for me to do would be to lie down and be left alone.”

The right corner of Ransom's mouth twisted upward. “I'll try not to bother you any more than I need to.”

“It's this awful business that's caused my headache to begin with,” Claudia said forcefully, apparently having decided that mounting an offense was her best course.

“I wasn't aware that you were that close to Marcella Hemsley.”

“I wasn't. I was referring to the fact that she was murdered not thirty feet from where I'm sitting. If we hadn't been made to stay by that sheriff, I would've left the boat and this tour immediately.”

“You must realize,” said Emily, “that we would be asked to stay until the investigation is complete.”

“I don't even understand why there is still an investigation going on!” Claudia replied haughtily. “They have the Bremmer girl in custody. They know she murdered her aunt.”

“Hmm,” said Ransom. “Then you have nothing to worry about, do you?”

There was a startled pause. “What?”

“If the murderer is in jail, you shouldn't have anything to worry about, should you?”

She stared at him blankly for a moment. “I didn't say I was worried. It's the idea that a murder took place here. It's not a very pleasant thought.”

“Yes, I see. Now, Miss Trenton, could you tell me where you were at the time of the murder?”

“I don't know when the murder happened.”

Ransom's eyes narrowed. If she chose to be difficult, he would have no compunction about responding in kind. “I believe you do.”

Claudia caught herself just short of a gasp. “What?”

“Surely Sheriff Barnes asked you about the time period around eleven-thirty.”

“Oh … yes.” She had visibly deflated with relief. “I was out walking, just like everyone else.”

“Alone?”

“Yes?” She voiced this as a question, challenging him to make something of it.

“Don't you think that was a bit dangerous?”

She produced a brittle smile. “No. It seems it was much more dangerous to be on the boat.”

He smiled. “Very good. I'm just a little surprised. It seems odd to me that you would not want any company on a walk in a strange place. You've never been here before, have you?”

“No, of course not!”

“Claudia,” said Emily, whose keen blue eyes were leveled at the other woman, “you went with us to the visitor's center, took a brochure, then left in a manner that I could only term … abrupt. One might've called it purposeful.”

Claudia had involuntarily faded back slightly, as if in a slow-motion recoil. Her jowls seemed to grow heavier. “No,” she said after a long pause. “If anything, I was trying to avoid those dreadful men.” She turned from Emily to Ransom. “They've been following me around, trying to accompany me everywhere.”

“Mr. Driscoll, Mr. Brock, and Mr. Holmes?” he asked.

“Yes. Very tiresome people. They seem to think they need to keep me company, I suppose because I'm on my own.”

“Yes, we saw Mr. Driscoll having dinner with you in Sangamore,” said Emily with no particular emphasis.

“That was not of my choosing. I don't want company. That's not why I came on this trip.”

“If we could back up for just a moment,” Ransom said, noting that Claudia had seemed relieved to have moved on to the safer area of airing grievances, “you say you went for a walk, alone—”

“I don't just say it, that's what I did.”

“I understand that. Where exactly did you go?”

“What?” Her eyes had gone blank again.

“Which trail did you take?”

“I— What possible difference could that make?”

He shrugged. “We're trying to trace everyone's movements, including the dead woman.”

“What does that have to do with me?”

“If you saw one of your fellow passengers, and could estimate when that was, it would help.”

“Oh. Well, I didn't see any of them. Not at all.”

“And which trail were you on?” Ransom pressed with elaborate patience.

“Oh. It was…” She shot an uncertain glance in Emily's direction, then the corners of her mouth drooped as if something very disheartening had just occurred to her. “It was trail three, I believe. Yes. It's just…” There was a short silence while she did a mental calculation. “It's just north of the shops.”

“And did you see anyone?”

Claudia emitted a sharp, frustrated sigh. “I already told you—”

He raised a palm to silence her. “Not passengers. I mean did you see anyone at all?”

“What?”

Emily eyed her curiously. “You must have seen that young couple hiking. We all did.”

Her brow furrowed. “I … I may have done. Oh, I don't remember! So much has happened since then! Why are you asking all these questions? That sheriff didn't ask so much. He was happy enough to arrest that tiresome woman's niece! Why do you have to pester me like this? I've told you I'm sick! This whole trip has been just … ghastly!”

“Claudia,” said Emily, “why
did
you come on this cruise?”

Her eyes widened. “What do you mean? I have every right to go where I please! Normally.”

“Yes, but this seems like such a peculiar choice for someone who wants to be left alone—to be thrown so closely together with other people.”

“I thought…” Claudia was at a loss for a moment, then gained confidence as she formed the idea into words. “I suppose I thought the boat would be bigger. I thought it wouldn't be difficult to keep to myself … I thought—wrongfully, of course—that the other passengers would leave me alone!” She grimaced and put a hand to her forehead. “Now, if you will please, please allow me to lie down.”

*   *   *

Once out in the corridor, Ransom said quietly, “Emily, did you tell me you had a map of the trails?”

“Yes, from the visitor's center.”

“Do you still have it?”

She nodded, then led him to the other end of the hall and into her cabin. He closed the door as she retrieved the map from the nightstand. When he crossed to her, she handed it to him and sat on the bed. He sat beside her, opened the map, and stared down at it.

It was crudely drawn with little in the way of detail, though it marked the road, the trails, and the campgrounds. The clearest landmark was the prominently featured general store. As Claudia had said, trail three began just north of Friendly's on the opposite side of the road.

“What are you looking for?” Emily asked.

He sighed. “I don't really know. But you said that Claudia looked as if she had some purpose when she left you, and she claimed she was trying to get away from your pesky fellow passengers.”

Emily clucked her tongue lightly. “She wasn't very kind about it, but Jeremy, I have to admit they did rather pester her. I'm sure they behaved like gentlemen around her—”

“Even Mr. Driscoll?” he cut in.

Emily smiled. “As much as that is possible. But the point is, more than once they joined her when, if she is to be believed, she didn't want them around. So, she could very well be telling the truth.”

“Except for one thing.”

“Hmm?”

“When I pressed her about which trail she took, she looked as if she wanted to lie, but was afraid you might've seen which way she went.”

“I see,” Emily said with a thoughtful nod.

Ransom drew his attention back to the map and studied it. The three trails closest to the docks were numbered out of order, with three just to the north of Friendly's, then six, then trail number one, the one Driscoll and company had taken, beginning just past the rise in the road. A large area marked Campground was in the center of the eastern portion of the map. Trail number six ran along the right side of the campground and continued on, while trail three was a short distance from the ground's north rim.

“Where was Marcella last seen before Rebecca lost her?” Ransom asked.

“The rest rooms were here.” Emily tapped her index finger on the upper right-hand corner of the campground.

“Hmm. So presumably she came out of the restroom, and since she didn't go back the way she came and didn't go forward…” He traced a diagonal line toward the northeast. “She must've cut across the campground and gone down here.” His finger followed the track drawn from the grounds to the road, which came out not far from the entrance to trail number three.

“That makes sense,” said Emily said. “The entrances to either end of the trail are somewhat covered compared to the campground, which is partially cleared. If she came out of the rest room and was confused, she probably took the line of least resistance … the clearest route.”

“Which if I'm not mistaken, would've taken her back to the boat fairly quickly.” He looked at the map a while longer, then emitted a sound through his nose.

“What is it?” Emily asked.

“There's nothing marked on these trails.”

“What do you mean?'

“No sights, no rest areas, no landmarks…”

She smiled at him benignantly. “Jeremy, you really do need to get out of the city more often. The map is simply meant to show the basic overview, if you will, of the paths—so that you can make sure you're going the right way … something that's hardly necessary since the trails themselves have plentiful markers. There aren't landmarks along the way, but there are some plaques describing the flora and fauna. And it isn't really necessary to mark rest areas since, as the Farradays told us beforehand, the locals have installed benches along the paths, so there are many places to sit down and have a rest.”

“Yes, but look at this.” He pointed to a small circle outlined at a kink in the line that formed trail three. “Lookout Point” was printed next to a circle at the edge of the trail in tiny lettering that had bled when being reproduced so that it was difficult to make out.

“Is that significant?” Emily asked, her narrow brows arching.

“It might be. You know I would accept your impressions over the facts any day. Your impression was that Miss Trenton left the group in a purposeful manner after going with you to the visitor's center.”

“Yes, it was.”

“Of course, this is just conjecture, but it would look as if she went to the center to get the necessary map, and then went directly to trail three—the only one with a landmark—which might suggest she had a rendezvous of some sort.”

“It is conjecture,” Emily said with a considering tilt of her head, “but it is logical.”

Ransom was still looking at the map, his lips pursed. “But we're left with the problem of what on earth that would have to do with Marcella's murder, even if it were true. And if she was meeting someone, could she have gotten back to the boat in time to do the murder?”

“Oh, but there's something else. If she was meeting someone it must've been an outsider—someone other than a passenger.”

“What makes you so sure?”

“There wouldn't be any reason for such a roundabout, furtive meeting with one of us. The walls here may be thin, but if you keep your voice down you can easily have a conversation without being overheard.”

They were silent for quite some time, then Ransom rose and offered his hand to Emily. “Well, you're long overdue for lunch, and it's time I spoke with the remaining passengers.”

Back in the dining room Ransom and Emily found that many of the passengers were still in attendance. Lily DuPree was still picking at her food with quiet, birdlike movements, and the Millers were chattering away at each other between spoonfuls of chocolate pudding. Jackson Brock was sitting alone at his table sipping coffee.

“When I'm finished with lunch, I'll go back to my cabin,” Emily said quietly. She then rejoined Lily and continued her interrupted meal, and Ransom went over to Brock.

“It looks as though Miss Langstrom has deserted you,” the detective said without a hint of irony.

The startled Brock grasped the inference immediately and his cheeks colored. “Yes. She went to her cabin.”

“May I join you for a moment?” Ransom asked as he took a seat. “I imagine you've already heard that I'm Detective Ransom, and I'm looking into Miss Hemsley's murder.”

“Yes,” Brock replied blankly. “Yes, I thought something was wrong.”

“I beg your pardon?”

“When we weren't allowed to leave the area, I mean.”

“That was a normal precaution under the circumstances, but there is some doubt as to Miss Bremmer's guilt.”

“I'm glad to hear it. She seems like a very nice young lady. And she took very good care of her aunt. It's nice to see that sort of thing in this day and age. You don't often.”

“Um-hmm. Now, Mr. Brock, I've already heard about the little escapade in which you took part yesterday—”

Brock's face flushed, and he looked down at the remnants of his lunch. Despite his obvious discomfiture, which Ransom had calculated to produce, the older man protested. “It was not my escapade. I didn't have anything to do with it. I wouldn't have … wouldn't have … done anything like that!”

“How did your participation come about?”

“We came to a Y in the trail, you see. The trail split in two. It was very woody, there. You could clearly see the trail signs on the left, and Muriel was in the lead, so she went that way. But Bertram pulled me to the side. He clapped a hand over my mouth and said ‘Be quiet! Don't let her hear you!' He was already guiding me up the other leg of the path, the one to the right, before I knew what was happening. I tried to get him to turn back, and he just kept on going. He thought it was very funny, what he was doing.”

“What you both were doing,” Ransom corrected.

Brock's cheeks reddened again. “But I didn't really know what was happening! And when … when I finally got Bertie to stop, and I told him I was going back, he was just … not nice at all about it. He called me several things that I won't repeat, most of them having to do with my manhood, and said I could just go my own way … but I don't think there's anything particularly manly about deserting a woman in the woods, do you?”