Death Takes Passage #4 Page 5

  “Pretty upset. She’s hiding something,” Jensen answered. “Just didn’t quite seem the reaction I would have expected if she’s guilty. Why wouldn’t she just deny it? What was all that refusal of a cabin search? She’s right about the warrant, but …” He grinned suddenly. “Not much to do, after all, you don’t have a brig, do you?”

  Captain Kay shook his head and couldn’t prevent the ghost of a smile.

  “If she took those things, she could get rid of them before we get to Sitka. Lot of ocean out there.”

  “Risk we’ll have to take. She been aboard long?”

  “New this season. Replaced a veteran crew member who left to get married.”

  “Where’d she work before?”

  “One of the big cruise ships … Princess, I think. Came with a good recommendation.”

  “I’d better take a look at it and check with Seattle for any wants or warrants. Of course it doesn’t have to be her at all. There are plenty of other passengers in cabins on other decks, with their own crew members to take care of them, and other crew members as well. She just seems suspicious. May be some completely different reason for not wanting her quarters searched.”

  “That’s true, all right.”

  “With your approval, I’d like to get an officer with a fingerprint kit to come aboard in Sitka, to take prints in the cabins where the thefts occurred. He probably won’t find much, considering how many people are in and out, but who knows? It’s worth a try. I’ll go talk to the folks in those three cabins. I’m sure they can’t tell me much more, but it will give me a more complete picture, and let them know we’re onto it,” Jensen suggested. With Kay’s agreement, he headed for the door.

  Just short of it, he turned back. “I’d like a list of everyone who was on board during the reception,” he said. “Crew, passengers, everyone—even for part of the time. Crew members should list the time they went ashore and came back, if they did. Okay? Later, I’d like to have a look at the security for that gold we’ve got on board?”

  “Sure. I’ll get the list for you. You really don’t need to worry about the gold. We had it checked by the trooper in Skagway after it was loaded, and the security company that provided the guards is bonded and gave us a record of their work.”

  “Still … when we have time, okay?”

  At a nod from Kay he went out onto the bridge. The first mate gave him a smile as he passed through the quiet room, where the dials, wheels, and technology it took to sail a ship this size worked constantly. Who first, he wondered, and where would he find the passengers he needed to see?

  This, he suddenly realized, was not turning out to be the relaxing cruise he had anticipated.

  7

  9:00 A.M.

  Monday, July 14, 1997

  Spirit of ‘98

  Peril Strait, Inside Passage, Alaska

  COMING DOWN AN OUTSIDE STAIRWAY, JENSEN WALKED along the rail, past the owner’s suite, which lay just behind the bridge and captain’s office. Together these three adjoining facilities filled the forward half of the Bridge Deck. The rear half of this deck was not enclosed, though it was partially covered with a blue canvas awning protecting a dozen or so weatherproof tables and chairs. Aft of the awning, open to the sky, a shuffleboard and giant checkerboard had been painted onto the sundeck. A small skiff with an outboard engine was secured next to the port rail and a paint locker was farther to the rear.

  At the corner of the owner’s suite, he turned right to a stairway and went down it to the next—Upper—deck. There, with elbows on the rail, he found Jessie, with her camera, viewing the northern shore of Baranof Island as it passed by at surprisingly close range. During breakfast, through the picture windows of the dining room, they had seen the mile wide lower reaches of Peril Strait, into which they were headed. Now, the strait had narrowed by half, making it plain why larger ships dared not venture into this slim passage. The smaller Spirit could easily and safely glide through the waters of the strait, a shortcut that reduced the required travel time by almost half a day, and allowed its passengers a closer look at the flora and fauna of the region.

  Small islands littered the shoreline, heavily forested like the mainland. Yesterday’s sunshine had disappeared behind a low layer of clouds that threatened rain before nightfall, something for which this part of the state was famous. A pair of eagles—silent predators—drew lazy circles against the pearly gray of the overcast, searching with keen eyes for any fish unfortunate enough to swim near the surface of the strait. A salmon, too large to interest them, leapt from the steel gray water midway between the ship and the shore, attracting Jensen’s attention, though the sound of its splash was covered by the deep rumble of the Spirit’s engines.

  “Like to get a hook in that one.”

  “Hi.” Jessie smiled up at him as he leaned on the rail beside her. “Did you know that Disney’s Scrooge McDuck supposedly made his fortune in the Klondike during the gold rush?”

  “Nope. Didn’t know that. Where’d you collect that bit of trivia?”

  “Don Sawyer. Ran into him in the lounge a while ago. I told him about the mayor of Seattle, and he told me about McDuck.”

  “Are there a lot of people in the lounge?”

  “Yeah. You want to go …”

  The public address system interrupted, coming to life over their heads:

  “Consider the bow of the boat as twelve o’clock and you will see several sea otters at ten o’clock on the port side of the ship, about a hundred yards out. Though the adults weigh sixty to seventy pounds, these are the smallest of all marine mammals and have the densest fur, which was why they were hunted almost to extinction until they became a protected species in 1911. There are now approximately a hundred and fifty thousand of them in the waters of Alaska. They are extremely social animals, sometimes floating together in rafts of several hundred. Usually they swim on their backs, but they will quickly dive underwater if startled. Look carefully. This time of year there should be some with babies that are often fed as the mothers drift in the water. Sea otters eat lots of clams, mussels, urchins, and crabs, which they break open by pounding them on rocks that they balance on their stomachs as they float.”

  By the time the disembodied voice had completed its recital of information, the ship had slowed until it was barely moving through the channel, giving the passengers, who had flocked to that side of the ship, a better look at the otters. With her most powerful zoom lens, Jessie focused in on a few of the closest animals. Some disappeared, as predicted, at the ship’s approach, but the rest remained, rocking comfortably on the surface of the water, lifting their heads, curious, to observe their observers.

  “Look at them watching us,” Jessie laughed. “Aren’t they great?”

  “Always bigger than I expect,” Alex remarked. “Photographs make them seem the size of teddy bears, and about as cuddly, if a little damp.”

  “What did the captain want?” Jessie asked.

  “Nothing good. Come inside and I’ll tell you, while I find my notebook.”

  Their stateroom, though not large, was comfortably arranged with two single beds, a small desk and chair, and a compact bathroom with a shower. No space was wasted. Even the suitcases fit neatly under the beds, after Jessie and Alex had unpacked into two generous drawers at the foot of each. Green glass shaded reading lamps over each bed added a touch of the antique. Once inside, he told her why the captain had invited him to the bridge.

  Jessie deposited her camera bag on her bed and sat down beside it. Alex found a notebook and pen in his gym bag and looked at her.

  “Were you aware that these cabin doors are never locked?” he asked.

  “Yes. Weren’t you? They mentioned it at breakfast, when the cruise coordinator told us the specifics of the stop in Sitka. She went over the things we needed to know about the ship and scheduling, things we didn’t hear last night because the reception in Haines took the place of dinner on board.”

  “Well, I must have been talkin
g to someone and missed it. I’m not completely comfortable with what the captain calls company policy, for obvious reasons. But, also, I can’t leave this here, unsecured.” He took a holstered Colt .45, the semiautomatic side arm he had carried as squad leader of a Marine airborne team years earlier, from the gym bag. He had learned to prefer it over the .357 Magnum that was usually part of his uniform.

  “You can’t carry it around all the time. Isn’t there a safe in the hotel manager’s office for passenger use?”

  “Think I’ll ask the captain if he has one on the bridge. There’s always someone up there. It’d be more secure and easier to get at if I need it.” He slid it into the pocket of his jacket, where it lay, a heavily obvious lump.

  “What are you going to do about the thefts?” Jessie asked. “Can I help? I’d like to see you in action for a change, instead of hearing everything secondhand.”

  He thought about this. In a community of just over a hundred people, in this small, confined area, it would be difficult to investigate with any anonymity. Jessie’s natural curiosity could be a big help.

  “Why not?” he agreed. “But you have to understand I’m the officer in charge. Let me ask the questions. Okay?”

  “Yes, sir … sir.” She saluted, with a grin. “And what are my orders now, sir?”

  “Here.” He tossed her the notebook and pen. “We find and talk to Judy Raymond, the Berrys, and the Lovegrens, who lost items from their staterooms. Then Stanley and his daughter, who are in the last stateroom of that group of four. I also want to meet Mrs. Blake and her niece, and Mr. Johnson, all of whom skipped the reception, for whatever reason, and stayed on board. I’ll do the interviews, and you can take notes for me, please.”

  “Okay. I can do that, but I don’t take shorthand, you know.”

  “That’s okay. Just get the particulars accurately—times, locations, item descriptions—important stuff. Use your own judgment. If I want anything specific, I’ll look over at you, or nod.”

  With that, they were off to the lounge to see who they could locate, with a side trip to the bridge, where Jensen left his .45 in the safe the captain did indeed have in his office. While they were there, Jensen made two phone calls. He was then ready to begin his investigative interviews.

  On the deck below their stateroom, the Grand Salon, or main lounge, was comfortably filled when Arnold and Jensen entered. There was an attractive, dark wood bar to the left of the door, and tables in a variety of sizes were informally arranged and surrounded with matching chairs. A few sofas and armchairs completed the furniture. Old-fashioned lighting fixtures and a player piano added to the turn-of-the-century atmosphere. A display case in one corner offered blue-and-white Spirit of ‘98 mugs, Tshirts, sweatshirts, and other souvenirs.

  Though most of the passengers were watching the scenery glide by through wide windows on three sides, a few seemed oblivious to what was going by outside. Two couples were playing bridge at a smaller table near the center of the room, the player with the dummy hand refilling empty coffee cups and juice glasses. Two women, at a table near the perpetual coffee urn, were working on stitchery pieces, their bright-colored yams spread out in a rainbow on the tabletop. Another, at the same table, was knitting what looked like a fuzzy orange sweater.

  On a sofa on the port-side of the lounge, Jessie noticed Judy Raymond talking to Bill Prentice, the man who had offered to pay for her drink in Skagway. Intent on their conversation, she did not appear to notice that Alex and Jessie had come in. Jessie pointed her out to Alex.

  “I’ll talk to her later. Right now I want to start with the Berrys and the Lovegrens. We met them at the Haines reception, remember? See any of them?”

  “Yes, both. Over there, in front, by the windows.”

  A low cabinet served as a divider about three-quarters of the way forward from the doors of the salon. Beyond it were a collection of armchairs, from which the passengers had a good forward view of whatever they were passing. In four of these, the couples they sought were talking together.

  “Shared history, I’ll bet,” Jensen commented, as he started across the room toward them. “Ancestors in the gold rush.”

  “You’re not going to talk to them here?”

  “No. In their cabins. I want to see the crime scenes.”

  8

  10:00 A.M.

  Monday, July 14, 1997

  Spirit of ‘98

  Peril Strait, Inside Passage, Alaska

  BILL AND NELLA BERRY, COOPERATIVE AND FRIENDLY, WILL ingly accompanied Jensen and Arnold to cabin 301.

  “Captain Kay said you would want to speak to us,” Bill Berry told Alex. “Whatever we can do to help, just ask. I’m very concerned about getting that watch back. My grandfather carried it to the Klondike during the rush. It means a lot to me.”

  “He one of the Bonanza and Eldorado Berry brothers?” Jensen couldn’t resist asking.

  “Yes,” the other man said, nodding, “Fred, the youngest. Frank was the oldest, and Clarence and Henry were the other two, all a part of Klondike history because they struck it rich on both Bonanza and Eldorado Creeks. Clarence and his wife Ethel D. were on the Portland when it reached Seattle, with a hundred and thirty thousand in gold. You must be interested in gold rush history, Sergeant.”

  “It’s a thousand great stories. I’ve done a lot of reading. Clarence was one of the only successful stampeders to put his money to work and build it into a family fortune, along with his brothers, wasn’t he?”

  “That’s right. The companies he started are still in the family.”

  “I’d like to compare notes sometime, if you don’t mind, but we should get back to the watch. Is there any way to identify it, sir?” Jensen asked, as they entered the cabin.

  “I never turn down an opportunity to talk gold rush, but only if you’ll call me Bill.”

  “Alex, then,” Jensen agreed. “I think this situation is casual enough to dispense with the formalities.”

  Jessie was looking around with interest. The cabin was larger than the one in which she and Alex were staying. Most forward of eleven along this side of the ship, its outer, windowed wall was curved to follow the shape of the hull. The door opened to the outside, as did all but a few on the lowest deck. It held a queen-sized bed, though the rest of the furnishings were similar to those in all the cabins. As Bill waved them to chairs, she took one farthest from the door and made herself ready to take notes.

  The Berrys were an attractive couple in their forties, with a hint of smile lines in the right places. Honey blond hair curled softly around her face, while his hair was darker and had receded to expand his forehead. Small courtesies between them—a touch of hands, a quick glance of communication—spoke of respect and affection that repetition had worn smooth and rich into a gratifying marriage. Tucked into the frame of a mirror above a built-in vanity was the picture of a pleasant-looking young man in his twenties, evidently their son, and another of a young woman, a daughter. That these should be a part of their trip was another clue to family solidarity.

  “Yes,” Berry said, answering Jensen’s question about the watch. “An inscription inside the cover, ‘Love, Mother to Fred.’ My great-grandmother gave it to him the year before the rush. You might be surprised that it still runs.”

  Jessie noted the inscription and the working order of the timepiece, as Berry pulled open one of the built-in drawers under the bed to show Jensen where the watch had been placed before it was stolen. The black, hinged, velvet-covered box that had held it remained in the drawer. He opened it to show the impression of a pocket watch on the velvet lining.

  “It was a good watch for its day—steel, no precious metal or jewels. The brothers were doing a lot of prospecting, and she must have known he needed one he could depend on, that wouldn’t be easily damaged. There wasn’t anything to make it different from a hundred others, but the inscription will identify it.”

  Next to the velvet box lay a soft-sided roll of chamois leather, a travel case
for jewelry.

  “Was this in the drawer when the watch was taken?”

  “Yes. Funny it wasn’t touched.”

  “May I?”

  “Certainly.”

  Alex picked it up and turned to Nella Berry.

  “This must be yours.”

  “Yes, it is.”

  He laid it on the bed beside her, untied and unrolled it. In its divided compartments were several pairs of earrings, a silver and turquoise necklace, a gold bracelet.

  “Nothing missing?”

  “Not a thing, and these ruby earrings weren’t in the case. They were over there on the vanity, in plain sight.”

  Alex retied and replaced the case, with a thoughtful glance at Jessie, who was busily taking notes.

  “You might want to put this in the ship’s safe, Mrs. Berry. At least until we solve this.”

  “You don’t think whoever it was will come back?”

  “No, not really. Word will have filtered out by now, making the thief cautious. Is there anyone on board, besides yourselves, who knew the watch was here?”

  They both shook their heads. “We’ve just met the Lovegrens, and the watch hasn’t been mentioned,” Bill offered. “Anyone could have seen it when I came aboard in my costume, or at the reception in the lounge, I guess, but it’s not worth much, really … except to me. If it were gold …”

  Jensen hesitated, then asked, “Have you met the CSR, the crew member who takes care of your cabin?”

  “Julie? Yes. She introduced herself yesterday, not long after we came aboard. Nice girl.”

  “Anything out of the ordinary about her behavior?”

  Nella Berry frowned slightly, following the direction of his questions. “No. Do you really think …”

  “Probably not, but I’d appreciate your not mentioning that possibility to anyone else. I’m just dotting the i’s and crossing the t’s. Don’t worry about it. We’ll keep you posted.”

  As there was little more to ask or see, Jensen excused himself and Jessie, and they went next door to the Lovegrens’ stateroom, which was smaller than the Berrys’ and was arranged as a twin. Their interview was similar, but, while the theft of his money had obviously raised Chuck Lovegren’s temper, he was also sheepishly embarrassed.