Ransom at Sea (3 page)

“Oh, yes, yes,” Miss DuPree said eagerly. “I think I would like some help!”

“Okey-doke, ma'am! Just leave your bag there.”

A small young man had come down the plank and joined Douglas. The new arrival had black hair and skin the color of a football.

“Oh!” said Douglas. “This is Hoke, the other steward, which makes up my whole staff. He'll be helping out as well.”

Hoke smiled uncertainly.

“Get the bags together first, out of the way so they don't trip over them, then help some up.” Douglas instructed Hoke quietly. Then he held out a hand to Miss DuPree. “Now, ma'am, if you will, I'll help you up the ramp.”

DuPree placed her hand in his and rose unsteadily. Douglas bent slightly and put a hand on the old woman's thin wrist in an attempt to steady her.

“There you go, ma'am. You're all right now.”

“Thank you … David.” She said his name as if she were trying it on for size.

He allowed her to slip an arm through his and then began the slow process of walking her up the ramp. The captain's wife appeared at the top with a clipboard in hand, ready to check in the passengers.

Claudia Trenton emitted a not-so-muffled
“hmpf!”
from the third bench. Emily glanced in her direction. From the displeased downturn of Claudia's mouth, she apparently found fault with something of the proceedings. She walked away from her suitcase without giving it a backward glance, her regal bearing showing her confidence that a vassal would see to her luggage. Lynn crouched beside Emily, and said, “She looks like she thinks we should've been admitted in order of arrival.”

“That would never do for Claudia Trenton,” Emily said with a quiet chuckle. “She didn't arrive first.”

Claudia was stopped temporarily at the top of the ramp by Douglas and Lily, the latter of whom teetered in the entrance as the captain's wife greeted her and gave her her cabin number. Once Lily had cleared the entrance, Claudia swept onto the boat.

Lynn glanced over at Hoke, who was just finishing lining up their bags. “I've never seen so much Samsonite in one place.” She paused, then added with a grin, “Do the elderly always gravitate to that type of luggage?”

“Sturdy and reliable.” Emily nodded. “Which is usually best, given how they're generally handled.”

“Yes,” Lynn said after an appreciative glance.

“Well, that young man seems to be taking good care of them.”

Still carrying the briefcase, Stuart Holmes crossed to the ramp and went up. Hoke had finished with the suitcases, and without being asked followed Holmes up the ramp, contriving to look as if he'd forgotten something on board while keeping a watchful eye on the stringy old man. The Millers then got up from their seat, adjusted their shoulder bags and headed for the ramp.

Douglas hurried back down the ramp and came directly to Emily. “How about you, ma'am?” he asked.

Emily was a bit surprised at what she saw: with his youthful demeanor, from a distance she had taken Douglas to be in his late twenties or early thirties, but at close proximity she could see the deep crow's feet, the small lines around the mouth, and several strands of silver in his blond hair. She placed him somewhere in his midforties.

“No, thank you, young man,” she said cordially. “I'm quite all right.”

“Could you use some help?” Douglas said to Marcella Hemsley.

Instead of replying to him, she looked at Rebecca. The deep furrow in her brow took a sharp dip in the center, which made her appear not just confused but angry. “Are we boarding now?”

“Yes, Auntie,” the niece replied.

Marcella began to struggle up to her feet. “Well, what are we waiting for?”

“Are you … are you absolutely sure you want to go on this trip?” Rebecca asked.

She hesitated with both palms flat on the bench. “'Course I am! Did I talk about anything else for the past six months but how I wanted to go on this tour with my friends?”

Lynn glanced at Emily and mouthed, “Six months?”

Marcella continued. “'Course I want to go. But listen, you don't have to come along if you don't want to. I always told you that. I don't need anybody to take care of me. I can take care of myself.”

Rebecca slipped a hand under Marcella's arm and helped her up. “I know you can, Auntie. But I want to come along. I need a vacation. We've already had this discussion.”

She led her aunt toward the boarding plank, and Marcella continued to profess her independence as they went arm in arm up it. David Douglas had stood to the side during this exchange, not wanting to interrupt or offer assistance for fear of further antagonizing the old woman. But he followed them up the ramp at a discreet distance to ensure Marcella's safety.

“Poor thing,” Emily said softly.

“The aunt or the niece?” Lynn asked.

“Both of them.”

“Well, Miss Charters,” Driscoll said broadly. “I reckon you turned your nose up at that young fella because you wanted to be escorted onto the boat by someone a bit more mature, am I right?”

“Not at all, Mr. Driscoll,” she replied pleasantly but firmly. “I declined the young man's offer because I don't require assistance. Thank you just the same.”

“Oh!” Driscoll said blankly, some of the wind going out of his sails. Then he shrugged and laughed. “Oh, well, all aboard!”

He went to the plank and ascended, followed closely by Jackson Brock.

Lynn held out a hand to Emily, who took it lightly and rose from the bench.

“Thank you, dear,” she said.

Hoke had came rather noisily down the plank and stopped before them. “I can help, if you want.”

“Thank you, young man, but there's no need,” said Emily. “Did Mr. Douglas say that your name is Hoke?”

His dark skin flushed. “Yes.”

“That's a most unusual name. Is it short for something?”

He nodded. “My name is Joaquin. They call me Hoke for short.” He said this with the colorless resignation of someone who knows it would be futile to protest.

“I think Joaquin is a lovely name. If you don't mind, I'll call you by that.”

He blushed again, this time appreciatively. “No, no, I don't mind. I like it! You go onto the boat now.”

Emily and Lynn started for the plank, and Hoke followed them up it, apparently anxious lest Emily should topple back down the incline.

“I don't know how you do it,” Lynn said quietly.

“What?” Emily asked innocently.

“Don't be coy with me,” she replied with a sly smile. “I suspect you were quite the little siren when you were young.”

Emily laughed. At the top they were greeted by the captain's wife.

“Welcome aboard,” she said brightly. “I'm Samantha Farraday. I take it you are…” She consulted the clipboard. “Emily Charters and Lynn Francis.”

“That's right,” said Lynn.

“Miss Charters, we've put you in cabin ten and Miss Francis is in cabin eleven. You can go down to your cabins now if you like, but you may want to stay on deck for a little while—we'll be getting under way as soon as the last passenger arrives, and most people like to be on deck for that.”

“The last passenger?” Emily said. “I thought we were the last.”

“No, there's one more.”

“I see.” Emily glanced at the deck. All of the female passengers appeared to have chosen to remain topside, while the males had gone below. “Thank you.”

As Emily and Lynn moved away from Samantha onto the deck, David Douglas came up from below and went to the boarding plank. He stopped beside Samantha and scanned the promenade.

“That's all of them. Now I'll get the other bags,” he said with a wink as he went down the ramp.

Samantha gave him an indulgent smile. “Careful, David!”

Hoke followed him down to the pier to help.

“Do you want to stay up here?” Lynn asked Emily.

“Oh, yes. I don't want to go downstairs and have to come right back up again.”

Deck chairs were arranged haphazardly around the perimeter of the deck. Laura Miller sat facing the water. She'd placed her purse on the chair next to hers as if saving it for her husband was still necessary despite the small company. Marcella Hemsley was on a chair facing the pier, her face lit with delight. Her niece was in the chair beside her, sitting forward, her forehead creased.

Lily DuPree was seated near the aft railing, her chair skewed around toward the deck. Emily noted with an inward smile that Lily was already engulfed in a book, oblivious to what was going on around her. Claudia Trenton sat near the boarding plank, her chair in a characteristically rigid upright position. There were two empty chairs nearby her, and Emily and Lynn sat down in them.

Emily had no sooner adjusted the hem of her light blue cotton frock when a billowing cry came soaring up from the pier, accompanied by the clatter of a pair of wooden soles, the sound of which resembled the confused clop of an agitated horse.

“Yoo-hoo!” cried the voice. “Yoo-hoo! Don't leave without me! I'm here!”

At the sound of the voice, the passengers on deck, with the exception of Emily and Lynn, tensed so noticeably they sent ripples through the air.

“I'm coming, I'm coming!” The voice had neared and the wooden soles resounded on the boarding plank.

“Oh, dear God!” Claudia exclaimed in an undisguised whisper.

The source of the voice came into view. She wore a green knit dress with a thin brown cord tied around her waist so tightly it made the bulk above and below it shift like the contents of a lava lamp. Her hair was raven black, which couldn't have been natural given her sixty-plus years, and the whiteness of her doughy face was interrupted by a beauty mark on her right cheek. From a distance it looked as if she'd neglected to swat away a small insect. In her right hand she carried a large, dark red suitcase, heavy enough that it caused her to list to one side.

“Who's that?” Lynn asked, not unaware of the sensation the arrival had caused among the other passengers.

“That is Muriel Langstrom,” Emily replied.

“A loudmouthed, tiresome boor of a woman,” Claudia added unbidden.

“I'm so sorry I'm late!” Muriel said loudly. “I couldn't get a taxi, and when I did the traffic was just unbelievable! It took twice the time to get here as I thought it would! And don't you know, Navy Pier is farther away than I thought it was!”

“Yes, Miss. Langstrom,” Samantha said patiently. “You're in cabin twelve. If you want to leave your bag here, one of the stewards will bring it down for you. We're about to set off, so if you like you can stay up here with the rest of the passengers. The captain usually says a few words before we leave.”

“About to set off?” Muriel said with anxious brown eyes. “You haven't been waiting for me, have you? Not just for me? I'd hate to think that I held everyone up.”

“No, she wouldn't,” Claudia said under her breath.

“That's certainly no way to begin a trip. That would really be starting off on the wrong foot!”

“No,” Samantha said quickly when Muriel paused for a breath. “You're the last to arrive, but you're not late.”

“Thank God for that!”

Claudia emitted a
“huh!”
“I'll bet she's the last to arrive with good reason!”

Muriel moved onto the deck, continuing her monologue to no one in particular. “Do you know what I mean? About it being farther away than I thought it was? A lot of things are like that. Like Orchestra Hall, for instance. Or … they've changed its name, haven't they? It's not called Orchestra Hall anymore, is it? No … I can't remember what it's called now. I suppose it doesn't matter. Anyway, as many times as I've gone to hear the symphony, you'd think I could remember exactly where the hall is. But it's always farther away than I remember it. Just like Navy Pier. Of course, I never come here, so it's understandable that I'd be confused about it.”

“Ladies and gentleman!” The captain's voice boomed out over the loudspeaker so suddenly and loudly that Muriel cut herself off with a cry, and Lily DuPree's book was startled out of her hands. She struggled to retrieve it from the deck as the announcement continued.

“Ladies and gentlemen, this is Captain Farraday. If those of you who are on the lower decks would like to come up top, I'd like to welcome you personally to your Lake Michigan cruise aboard the
Genessee.
Thank you.”

The loudspeaker crackled and went mute.

Bertram Driscoll and Martin Miller came up the stairs from belowdecks almost simultaneously, none the worse for their fairly rapid ascent up the two flights. Then Jackson Brock emerged, a little more slowly than the others. Stuart Holmes was last, managing the stairs with evident difficulty. He came onto the deck cautiously. Emily noticed this and suspected it was not so much from fear of loosing his footing as an attempt to not appear winded.

“Well, here we are again!” Driscoll exclaimed, apparently from an inbred determination to state the obvious. His eye caught sight of the late arrival, who had seated herself at the rear of the deck near Lily DuPree. “And lookee who we have here! Miss Muriel Langstrom! I didn't know you'd booked onto our little cruise!”

Immediately upon being addressed directly, Muriel began to flutter. “Yes! It was a last-minute decision, really! I don't know why I couldn't make up my mind about—”

Driscoll cut her off amiably. “Well, glad to see ya!” He went briskly to the other end of the deck and sat not too far from Emily and Lynn. The other men had found seats during this exchange.

Once they were all situated, as if on cue, the captain came out of the wheelhouse with his wife at his side. They stood at the center of the rear wall of the wheelhouse, from which they could see the entire company. David and Hoke appeared from below, having just completed stowing the last of the luggage. They were accompanied by a plump, pleasant-faced woman in a pale gray dress and white apron.