It's Murder, On a Galapagos Cruise: An Amateur Female Sleuth Historical Cozy Mystery (Miss Riddell C by P.C. James (easy novels to read txt) 📕

is there, even though Arvin is physically weak, but none of them have a strong motive. If this is murder, and I still think it is, the reason is something we haven’t discovered yet or it was something that rose quickly.”

“I still favor Gregor,” Somerville said. “I’m going to dive deeper into his background and movements over the past days.”

“And I have changed my order of suspicion and now favor Rod, with Arvin a close second,” Pauline said. “I’ve been researching Rod’s movements these past days and got a breakthrough today, when his wife lost patience with his tiresome moodiness.”

As Pauline and Somerville joined him for the evening briefing, Captain Ferguson said, “Mr. Chalmers has agreed to speak to us. He’ll be here in ten minutes. I wanted us to have time to talk amongst ourselves before he arrived.”

“And I’ve sent more information about the crewmen you asked about, Miss Riddell,” Hidalgo said.

“I have it here,” Ferguson added, handing them each two loose pages. “It isn’t exciting I’m afraid.”

They read and discussed the information and then what they wanted to hear from Rod Chalmers. This was still being discussed, when an officer showed Chalmers in.

“Mr. Chalmers,” Captain Ferguson said, “Thank you for coming.” He gestured Rod to a seat. “Can I get you something to drink? You’re a tequila man, I think.”

“Sure,” Rod said. “Free drinks are always welcome.” His short laugh was brittle and had nothing of humor in it.

Ferguson handed him his drink. “I want to make something very clear right from the start. This isn’t a police investigation and you are not being accused of anything. These two real-life detectives, in their own separate spheres, very kindly agreed to help the company confirm there was nothing sinister in the event that cost Jose Garcia his life. The police have ruled it an accident. You may have heard muttering about it being something more. We want to be sure.”

Rod took a sip of his drink before saying, “What’s that to do with me?”

“It seems,” Pauline said, “that you were in the vicinity of the incident around the time it happened. We would like you to tell us what you heard and saw that night.”

“I told you last time you asked,” Rod said.

“Last time we asked,” Somerville said, “you told us you weren’t near where it happened. We’ve since learned that isn’t true.”

“I told you that because I heard, and saw, nothing but I knew you wouldn’t believe that. It seemed easier to say I wasn’t there.”

“Look,” Somerville said, “what happened was probably an accident brought about by unfortunate circumstances. We don’t think anyone is going to be blamed for it.”

“Then why bother?”

“Because there will always be a cloud over the company, ship, and crew if there isn’t an understandable answer,” Ferguson said.

“Whatever,” Rod said. “I still can’t help you.”

“All we’re asking is, if you and he got into a confrontation that night and he stepped back, overbalanced on the rail and fell, well, that wouldn’t be murder. Just a horrible accident with no one to blame,” Somerville said.

“You want me to confess to something I didn’t do so you can all feel good about yourselves?” Rod said. “If, as you say, all you need is someone to say they were there and it was an accident, why don’t you do it? If, as you say, no one will be blamed.”

“I was in the Lounge with dozens of other people, as was Miss Riddell,” Somerville said. “You are one of the very few passengers who weren’t and you and Jose were seen arguing sometime earlier that afternoon.”

“He wanted money from me, a tip. I said no. He didn’t like my answer and said so. I threatened to inform the captain of his behavior and he became even more threatening. I walked away. After dinner, I was still seething, you might have noticed how upset I was at the meal. I went onto the forward part of the ship to smoke a cigar or two to get the bad taste out of my mouth. I didn’t say anything because, from the moment I heard of his death, I knew I’d be number one suspect if anyone learned of what happened.”

“Why did you think that?” Pauline asked.

“Because,” Rod began angrily, and then paused and said slowly, “because it’s always the Mexican that did it, isn’t it? I do my best to fit in. I say ‘Rod’ not Rodrigo, I took my wife’s family name to sound more American. I work hard to speak properly. I’m clean, tidy and have worked hard to build my fitness business but I’m still the outsider and I can’t forget it. Nobody let’s me.”

The silence that followed this unhappy speech was deafening.

Eventually, after seeing the others had no further questions, Captain Ferguson stepped in and said, “Again, Mr. Chalmers, thank you for meeting with us and clarifying your movements that night. I think we can all see how difficult this is, and has been, for you. I don’t think there’s anything more we need to know.”

Rod finished his drink in one steady draught, rose, nodded to them and left the cabin without another word.

“He was your first choice of suspect, Miss Riddell. What do you think now?” Captain Ferguson asked.

“I think we have to look elsewhere for our perpetrator, Captain,” Pauline said.

“Then you believe him?”

“In the essentials, yes,” Pauline said. “That the argument with Jose was something as trivial as a tip, no. I’m sure there’s something in Mr. Chalmers’ past that Jose somehow discovered but I suspect we can confirm where he was. If he was at the bow smoking, your officers on the watch that night will have seen him.”

“I’ll check the shift roster and we’ll talk to them later,” Ferguson said. “What do you think Chalmers has to hide?”

“I suspect that he isn’t actually Mexican. To an English speaker, all Spanish speakers sound the same but to other Spanish speakers, they probably don’t. The reverse is true, of course. Non-English speakers think we