Read Online Murder, She Wrote: Panning For Murder: Panning For Murder (Murder She Wrote) by Jessica Fletcher - Free Book Online Page A
Authors: Jessica Fletcher
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interested in him, Jess?”
“No, of course not. I was just wondering whether Willie might have flirted with him.”
Kathy shook her head, smiled, and sipped her champagne. “It’s certainly possible,” she said. “Why should he be any different?”
As she said it, Captain Rasmussen, who’d greeted his final guest at the door, came to us and took a chair next to Kathy.
“Well, Ms. Copeland,” he said, “have the authorities given you any further news about your sister?”
“No, Captain. Nothing new at all.”
“Pity. She was a very nice woman.”
“Did you have a chance to get to know her?” I asked. “On a personal basis?”
His eyebrows went up. “ ‘Personal basis,’ Mrs. Fletcher?” He laughed easily. “I’m afraid my duties as captain of this ship preclude me from getting personal with my passengers. Did I get to speak with her? Of course. She attended this reception just as you are doing this evening. We had a pleasant chat.”
“Officer Kale said she’d complained of men making unwanted advances toward her,” I said, “and of break-ins to her cabin.”
“Yes. I received those reports from him. He assured me there was nothing to them.”
“I’m sure my sister didn’t make up those things,” Kathy said, a modicum of pique in her voice.
“I’m not suggesting that she did, Ms. Copeland. But Officer Kale didn’t find anything tangible to support her accusations. You must excuse me. I’m needed back on the bridge. Enjoy the rest of the party—and your cruise.”
“Did Wilimena tell you about the gold?” I asked as he started to walk away.
He stopped, turned, and came back to us. “As a matter of fact, she did,” he said. “To be perfectly honest with you, her constant reference to it all over the ship was not, in my opinion, a terribly prudent thing to do.”
“Did you suggest that to her?” I asked.
“No. It was not my place. Good evening, ladies.”
He gathered the other officers and they strode from the lounge.
Kathy finished her champagne and said, “I’m ready to go, Jess.”
As we waited for an elevator to take us up to the navigation deck, she said, “I’m getting a little tired of people portraying Willie as some sort of kook, some unbalanced woman who imagines things.”
“I understand,” I said. “But—”
The doors slid open and we stepped inside.
“But she did act strange,” Kathy said, finishing my sentence. “I acknowledge that. But it doesn’t mean she’s crazy.”
“Of course it doesn’t. The problem, Kathy, is that we’re going to be speaking with a lot of people on the ship who might have that view of her. I’m afraid you’d better get used to it. What’s important is that we find out what happened to her.”
We had a little time left before our seating for dinner. Kathy retired to her cabin to do some reading, and I took a second tour around the Glacial Queen , taking in areas we’d not seen the first time. I ended up in the library, where a number of passengers had already settled in for some serious board games. My past experience suggested that they would be found there for the duration of the cruise, hunched over the boards, brows creased as they enjoyed their obsession. People on ships often gravitate to specific places, choosing one lounge over the others as their favorite or one pool they prefer, finding companions for their interests and returning each day to enjoy the experience.
I scanned books on a shelf and stopped at a slender, well-worn volume on the history of the Alaskan gold rush of the late 1800s. I pulled it down, sat in one of a pair of brown leather chairs separated by a small table, and started paging through it. I was reading about a fascinating woman known as Klondike Kate, a popular entertainer during
“No, of course not. I was just wondering whether Willie might have flirted with him.”
Kathy shook her head, smiled, and sipped her champagne. “It’s certainly possible,” she said. “Why should he be any different?”
As she said it, Captain Rasmussen, who’d greeted his final guest at the door, came to us and took a chair next to Kathy.
“Well, Ms. Copeland,” he said, “have the authorities given you any further news about your sister?”
“No, Captain. Nothing new at all.”
“Pity. She was a very nice woman.”
“Did you have a chance to get to know her?” I asked. “On a personal basis?”
His eyebrows went up. “ ‘Personal basis,’ Mrs. Fletcher?” He laughed easily. “I’m afraid my duties as captain of this ship preclude me from getting personal with my passengers. Did I get to speak with her? Of course. She attended this reception just as you are doing this evening. We had a pleasant chat.”
“Officer Kale said she’d complained of men making unwanted advances toward her,” I said, “and of break-ins to her cabin.”
“Yes. I received those reports from him. He assured me there was nothing to them.”
“I’m sure my sister didn’t make up those things,” Kathy said, a modicum of pique in her voice.
“I’m not suggesting that she did, Ms. Copeland. But Officer Kale didn’t find anything tangible to support her accusations. You must excuse me. I’m needed back on the bridge. Enjoy the rest of the party—and your cruise.”
“Did Wilimena tell you about the gold?” I asked as he started to walk away.
He stopped, turned, and came back to us. “As a matter of fact, she did,” he said. “To be perfectly honest with you, her constant reference to it all over the ship was not, in my opinion, a terribly prudent thing to do.”
“Did you suggest that to her?” I asked.
“No. It was not my place. Good evening, ladies.”
He gathered the other officers and they strode from the lounge.
Kathy finished her champagne and said, “I’m ready to go, Jess.”
As we waited for an elevator to take us up to the navigation deck, she said, “I’m getting a little tired of people portraying Willie as some sort of kook, some unbalanced woman who imagines things.”
“I understand,” I said. “But—”
The doors slid open and we stepped inside.
“But she did act strange,” Kathy said, finishing my sentence. “I acknowledge that. But it doesn’t mean she’s crazy.”
“Of course it doesn’t. The problem, Kathy, is that we’re going to be speaking with a lot of people on the ship who might have that view of her. I’m afraid you’d better get used to it. What’s important is that we find out what happened to her.”
We had a little time left before our seating for dinner. Kathy retired to her cabin to do some reading, and I took a second tour around the Glacial Queen , taking in areas we’d not seen the first time. I ended up in the library, where a number of passengers had already settled in for some serious board games. My past experience suggested that they would be found there for the duration of the cruise, hunched over the boards, brows creased as they enjoyed their obsession. People on ships often gravitate to specific places, choosing one lounge over the others as their favorite or one pool they prefer, finding companions for their interests and returning each day to enjoy the experience.
I scanned books on a shelf and stopped at a slender, well-worn volume on the history of the Alaskan gold rush of the late 1800s. I pulled it down, sat in one of a pair of brown leather chairs separated by a small table, and started paging through it. I was reading about a fascinating woman known as Klondike Kate, a popular entertainer during
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