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) 📕

“I hope so,” Freda said, “or people will be angry you even raised the question and kept on with it when everyone else was happy with calling it an accident.”

Pauline began the renewed questioning once they reached the boat deck. Quickly realizing her queries were getting her nowhere and souring the day for everyone, Pauline rejoined Freda.

They boarded the tender in silence as it ferried them and the others of their party to the dock on the island. Calling these landing places ‘docks’ was too grand, Pauline thought wryly as she was being helped off the bobbing boat by a strong young sailor. There were no facilities or handrails, no gangplank, no dock offices with officials, just a flat-topped platform jutting into the sea.

They gathered around Pedro as he explained what they could expect to see and reminded them of the difficulties they would encounter on the rough paths. Looking seriously at the group, fixing the eyes of the frailest and elderly, he urged anyone who had doubts about their agility and balance to wait for the shorter hike that would begin shortly after this extended one. No one changed their mind and, with something like a shrug, he said, “We will begin.”

Freda, who was anxiously watching Arvin hobble along the trail ahead of them, said quietly to Pauline, “Arvin really shouldn’t have come on this excursion.”

Pauline followed her gaze and saw what Freda meant. The heavy-set man was struggling with the heat and the loose rocks beneath his feet. It was difficult to know which of the two challenges was most galling to him. One hand fanned his face with a pamphlet, the map probably, while the other hand constantly reached out to nearby shrubs to steady him.

Pauline shrugged. “It will be a lesson for him,” she said. “The guide said, ‘strenuous walking over loose stones without shade’. Pedro gave him a clear get-out option at the start. Arvin has repeatedly told us all how much he struggles with heat and how his body has been damaged by the life he lived in Europe before emigrating to the States yet he persisted. I have no sympathy with him.”

“Maybe so,” Freda said, the nurse in her growing increasingly concerned, “but we’ll all suffer if he has a bad accident.”

Pauline was unmoved. She felt strongly that foolishness should be rewarded by its inevitable consequences.

Minutes later, Freda’s worst fears came true. Arvin’s ankle turned and he fell heavily, sliding down a short slope over sharp rocky outcrops.

Raul, the assistant guide, hearing Arvin’s cry, stopped the group and hurried back to discover the cause. He quickly shuffled down the slope to where Arvin lay.

Freda slid down the slope behind him as quickly as she dared to the place where Arvin had fallen. “Are you okay, Arvin?” she asked.

“No, I’m not okay, you…’ he cut his comment short.

“Pedro,” Freda called up to where he was watching from the path, “I’m a nurse. We’re going to need help here?”

Pedro quickly came down to where Freda stood.

“I’m sure you don’t need my expertise to see the problem,” Freda said.

“I don’t. His ankle isn’t right at all,” Pedro said. “We can’t let him walk back. I’m going to radio for help. Can you do what you can to make Mr. Weiss comfortable while I do that? I left my radio with my bag. Raul, you come and take charge of the tour while I see what can be done.” He rose and both guides made their way up the incline, loose stones sliding down to bump against Freda and Arvin.

“You idiots,” Arvin yelled, when a larger rock slammed into his shin.

“Lie still, Arvin,” Freda said, trying to fend off the remaining stones that slid by. “I’ll look at your leg if you’ll let me but I’ll need to take off your shoe and sock.”

“No, leave it.”

Freda nodded. “As you wish,” she said. “There doesn’t seem to be any bleeding so the skin isn’t broken, everything is still inside.” She smiled in what she hoped was a reassuring manner but the angle of his leg to the ankle was dramatically wrong. “Maybe it would be best if I just make you more comfortable.”

She called to Pauline to bring down her bag with her spare clothes. After the drenching on their first wet landing, she’d traveled with spares.

From her bag she took a towel, bundled it, and placed it under his head.

“Is there anywhere else we need to protect,” she asked.

“My side, here,” Arvin said, rolling slightly so she could place a cushion there. His golf shirt was stained with blood.

“You have a scrape there, Arvin,” Freda said. “Luckily, I never go anywhere without a first aid kit so let me get some antiseptic cream and a bandage on the wound before we go any further.” She plunged her hand into the capacious bag and rummaged for the kit.

“Polly,” Freda said, as her hand emerged from the bag, “Can you put up our umbrella and give Arvin some shade.”

Pauline did as she was told, holding the sunshade so it put Arvin’s sunburned face into shadow. She watched as Freda lifted the shirt up and did her best to keep her face expressionless when she saw the size of the gash in his side. She doubted Freda had any band-aids that would cover that.

“Do you have any water left, Arvin?” Freda asked.

Arvin shook his head. His eyes were closing and the color was leaving his face.

“Fortunately, we have,” Freda said brightly, diving back into her bag again. “Here,” she said, holding the open bottle to his lips. The water seemed to revive him and she continued, “Polly, go see what Pedro is doing. We’d all like to know help is on its way here. It’s too hot to enjoy this siesta.”

Pauline set off up the slope. It was hard going. The loose stones slipped under her so she seemed to slide back two feet for every one