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

Can’t stand waiting or just watching. I have to be doing.”
“We’d noticed, but you came to see the islands and their fauna and flora,” Freda said.
“I can see it just as well on the move. In fact, I think I’d see more.”
The guide seemed to take the hint for he told them to follow him and not stray off the path; the ground was very uneven.
“Finally,” Somerville said, loud enough to be heard by the whole party.
“You’re eager to explore the island. That’s good.” Freda’s tone suggested the opposite of good.
“I’m eager to get this tour done with and get back to the ship so I can start interviewing the crew,” Somerville said, this time quietly enough to be only heard by Pauline and Freda. “Now we’ve got started on the investigation, I resent any interruption.”
“What would you have done if this unfortunate death hadn’t happened?”
Somerville grinned. “I guess I’d have zipped my lip and done the tours but now it has happened, I’m going to find it hard to do that.”
Pauline shook her head. He may be an admirable young man in many ways but, in the end, he was a very young man and not one who she’d want investigating a possible murder. Experience and judgment were the qualities she’d have chosen. If there’d been a choice.
Their hike wasn’t long, only difficult for many to navigate. The broken lava underfoot was treacherous, especially where wet. However, the party arrived safely at the rocks and beach that were their destination. The largest colony of marine iguanas in the Galapagos lived here, the guide said, and Pauline could believe it. They were piled one on top of another in writhing mounds of red and black scaly flesh. It looked most unappealing to Pauline. She presumed the iguanas liked it. Where the rocks were free of iguanas, there were sinister-looking cormorants drying their wings, which made no sense at all to Pauline for they were flightless birds. One of the many unusual adaptions found here on these islands.
Their dinner table that evening was silent. The other tables were made up of parties traveling together and they were all more cheerful and boisterous. The group on Pauline and Freda’s table seemed to be those who knew no one and were consequently drawn together only by being excluded from every other table. She didn’t know if that were really true but certainly they were always the same subdued eight.
Rod’s expression was even grimmer than usual but tonight his sarcastic comments, if any, were kept to himself. His wife, perhaps depressed by his smoldering resentment, was almost equally quiet, her usual gaiety gone.
Arvin was still unhappy about being questioned the day before and his was an injured silence. Pauline thought that a good thing, on the whole, for you could never tell where his obsessions would take him, and them.
The Mennonite couple were never talkative but slowly, Freda was able to have them provide their views on the two islands they’d seen. For this, Pauline was grateful because she and Somerville were as silent as the others. The thoughts that filled their heads could not be shared at the table.
“Does your religion allow for evolution?” Pauline heard Freda ask. Pauline froze. Politics and religion didn’t belong at the dinner table, that was the rule she’d heard from being a child and she still thought it good advice.
“We have not read Mr. Darwin’s theory, so it is hard for us to comment, Mrs. Holman,” Isaac said.
“But you have heard of it?”
“Oh, yes. In fact, I’ve brought his book Origin of Species to read as we explore the islands. From what we were told by our parents, and the Elders, it doesn’t sound like it would be acceptable,” Ruth said. “However, we are of a reformed group and we understand Darwin was a Christian who had his own struggles with what he was proposing. If he found a way to reconcile his theory with his beliefs, how can we say that we mightn’t be able to do the same if we studied the subject.”
“I heard it is about ‘adaption’ rather than ‘evolution’,” Betty said, suddenly joining in. “My Pastor says it doesn’t disprove the Bible; it just explains how things changed over time after they were created.”
Pauline heaved a silent sigh of relief. With luck, the conversation would continue along lines that wouldn’t lead to yet another death. For her own part, she was struck by the way Rod occasionally glanced at Somerville. There was real anger in that. Was Rod the person Somerville had so mysteriously gone off to interview and, if so, why? What had he learned that had taken him off to question Rod without sharing the results with Pauline or the captain?
After their coffee, Pauline and Freda walked the deck under a clear sky filled with stars. There were other guests out but it was still quiet enough to talk privately.
“Did you notice Rod was even less communicative than usual tonight?” Pauline said.
“Yes. I think it was because he and Detective Somerville were arguing in the lounge earlier,” Freda said.
“Ah, I thought it might be something like that.”
“I tried to hear what they were saying but it wasn’t easy. They were clearly upset but not shouting. In fact, their voices were lower than usual, I’d say. Particularly Somerville’s.”
“You heard nothing?”
“Rod said ‘Mexican’ once. I heard that.”
“I wonder if he is Mexican. He’s very tanned.”
“Dark complexions always tan, and his coloring is very Spanish” Freda said, shrugging. “It doesn’t mean he’s from South or Central America.” Freda and her husband had been on many Spanish holidays in recent years and she felt she knew enough to argue this point.
“I agree but he must have meant something. I wondered if Somerville had learned he was Latin American and asked if he was Peruvian, that’s all.”
Freda thought for a minute. “He does look Spanish, doesn’t he? Very sexy, I think.”
“You aren’t planning to run off with a bullfighter, I hope.”
Freda smiled. “I might,