It's Murder, On a Galapagos Cruise: An Amateur Female Sleuth Historical Cozy Mystery (Miss Riddell C

left, I’m sure we would have heard about it over dinner.”
“You can assume that if you wish. Nevertheless, I’m going to question him, though maybe I’ll do it informally first. You know, just two men shooting the breeze over a drink at the bar.”
“Did you learn anything new when you spoke to my officers, Miss Riddell?” Captain Ferguson asked quickly, eager to change the subject.
“Officer LaPorte gave me the names of three other Peruvians among the maintenance and engineering crews. I’d like to speak to them in the coming days.”
“You think Jose may have recognized one of them as a soldier or guerrilla and they killed him when he told them that?”
“I think it’s possible or maybe some less horrific ancient grievance that got out of hand. I haven’t lost sight of the possibility it could just be a scuffle that led to a tragic accident.”
“I pray that is the answer if it isn’t a straightforward accident.”
From the briefing, Somerville led the way straight to the bar, Pauline following reluctantly behind. If Arvin was in the bar, she wanted to hear first-hand what he would say when Somerville questioned him.
“Hey, Arvin,” Somerville said, placing his drink on the small table at which Arvin was sitting alone, “mind if we join you?”
Arvin waved his hand at the empty chairs indicating his agreement but noticeably failing to say anything.
“I hope you don’t mind, Mr. Weiss,” Pauline said, “but I’m sure you can understand why we’d like to talk to you.”
“You want to pin that guy’s death on me.”
Pauline sighed. “No. We simply want to hear what happened when you saw the victim removing your bags from what you believed was your room.”
“It was a mistake. What the hell? Haven’t you guys ever made a mistake?”
“Of course,” Somerville said, “only this happened after the bus incident and before the fall incident so you can see why we’re asking you to tell us what happened.”
Arvin’s expression became grimmer than ever. “The bus has nothing to do with anything, that guy was hating on me. What happened to the dead guy later has nothing to do with the bus or my mistake over the bags. You’re lumping them together to get me.”
“We’re really not, Mr. Weiss. Detective Somerville is just saying there were three incidents in one day and because two of them involved you,” she held up her hand to stop him jumping in and continued quickly, “people may jump to the wrong conclusion. We need to be able to say that it is a wrong conclusion. Won’t you help us do that?”
Arvin scowled but nodded.
“You were walking toward your cabin when you saw the victim leaving it with your hold-all bag. Is that correct?” Somerville said.
Arvin nodded.
Suppressing a sigh, Pauline said, “Why don’t you continue?”
“What can I say? I saw the guy carrying my bag. I thought out from my room. I shouted. I realize now I was still upset from the coach ride but I really thought he was taking my bag.”
“Only, it wasn’t your room.”
“That’s right. My bag had been put in the cabin next door and the guy was just moving it to mine.”
Arvin had stopped again. He was clearly uncomfortable about the event. Pauline wondered if indeed that might mean he was involved in Jose’s death.
“And then?” Somerville said.
“He stood there grinning, saying ‘yes’ when I asked what he was doing. He had this big grin on his face and to me it looked like him saying ‘come and get it if you want it’. I grabbed my bag and he let go. He was still grinning. After the bus driver’s scowls all day, having this guy smirking at me was too much. I lost it and shoved him against the wall. That’s all there was.”
“One of the other crew who could speak English intervened and sorted it out, I understand,” Pauline said.
“Yeah, exactly. When I realized, I apologized. Look, this was nothing. Just a hard day that led to a misunderstanding. Everybody was okay. I tipped the guy generously and we parted as friends.”
“What about the evening?”
“What about it? I was on your table at dinner, don’t you remember?”
“We do,” Somerville said. “We remember you were the first to leave the table as well.”
“I went to the bar. Everything that could go wrong that day had gone wrong and I was churning inside. I wanted a drink and an early night to settle my nerves, which is what I did.”
“What time did you leave the bar?” Pauline asked.
“I don’t know. Early. I didn’t want to talk to anyone. I had a scotch. Drank it practically in one go and left.”
“Did you speak to anyone at all?”
“No. I just said that.”
“Very well,” Pauline said. “Did you see anyone when you returned to your cabin? Anyone on the deck, in the corridor?”
“No. Everyone was still in the lounge, I guess. I told you. It was early, right after dinner.”
“Is there anything you can tell us that might help?”
“No. I went to bed and slept. I didn’t hear or see anything.”
They thanked him and walked away. Outside, where there were few people around, Somerville said, “I can’t stand that man, but I believe him.”
“He’s not a likeable man,” Pauline agreed, “but I think a very lonely one.”
“Maybe those two traits are related,” Somerville said sarcastically.
Pauline smiled. “True. I’m going to keep an open mind about Mr. Weiss, though. He has no alibi for the evening and he’s one of the very few people on this ship who doesn’t.”

8
Isabela Island, Punta Vicente Roca
The morning’s zephyr ride – the one Pauline had been so sarcastic about a day earlier – took them along the sides of the hopefully-now-extinct volcano’s caldera and it was spectacular. Dramatic cliff faces soared towering above them as the boat slowly cruised the edge, nosing into vast sea-caves that echoed their voices. Even Pauline could feel herself caught up in the excitement of photographing the seals and turtles that swam around the boats. Fellow explorers with bigger cameras