Read Murder, She Wrote: Panning For Murder: Panning For Murder (Murder She Wrote) Online

Authors: Jessica Fletcher

Murder, She Wrote: Panning For Murder: Panning For Murder (Murder She Wrote) (13 page)

BOOK: Murder, She Wrote: Panning For Murder: Panning For Murder (Murder She Wrote)
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“I think I’d better sit here a minute,” I said, wincing against the stabbing pain in my shoulder.
 
 
“Of course. I’ll get a doctor.”
 
 
“No, no, please,” I said. “That’s not necessary. I’ll be fine. Did you see that man?”
 
 
“What man?”
 
 
“The man running down the stairs. In the blue shorts and yellow T-shirt.”
 
 
“No, I didn’t. I saw you start to fall and—”
 
 
“That’s all right,” I said, taking his outstretched hand and slowly pulling myself to my feet.
 
 
“Did the man do something to you?” he asked as I leaned against the railing.
 
 
“No. It’s just that—I think he’s been following me.”
 
 
“Following you? Why?”
 
 
“That’s what I intend to ask him.”
 
 
“Do you know who he is?”
 
 
I shook my head. “That’s question number two. Thank you for your help, Bill. I feel like a clumsy fool.”
 
 
“These stairs can be tricky,” he said. “And with the ship’s movement, taking a misstep is easy. I’ve done it myself.”
 
 
“You make me feel less oafish,” I said.
 
 
“Good. Come on. Let’s find a quiet place for you to sit down.”
 
 
“I left Kathy in the library.”
 
 
“Then we’ll go there.”
 
 
Before we could take a step, Kathy appeared. “Are you all right, Jess?” she asked.
 
 
“I think so. Just a little sore.”
 
 
“Why did you rush out of the library like that?”
 
 
“I saw the man who’d been following me.”
 
 
“You did? Where is he?”
 
 
“I don’t know. When he saw me, he bolted down these stairs.”
 
 
“Strange behavior,” Henderson said.
 
 
“Yes, I’d say so,” I replied.
 
 
“We should report him to the ship’s security people,” Kathy said. “The man might be dangerous.”
 
 
“Probably just some weirdo,” Henderson said. “There’s always a couple of them on a cruise. My suggestion? I think you should go to your cabin and rest. Taking a tumble like that can put a real strain on your entire body.”
 
 
“You’re probably right,” I said. “But I want to be able to enjoy the glaciers.” I checked my watch. “We should almost be to Glacier Bay.”
 
 
“Won’t be long,” Henderson said. To Kathy, he said, “Take Mrs. Fletcher back to her cabin. I’ll stroll around the ship and see if I can spot this character. He was wearing—?”
 
 
“Blue shorts and a yellow T-shirt.”
 
 
“Right. If I spot him, I’ll let you know.”
 
 
“Thank you, Bill.”
 
 
“My pleasure. Look forward to seeing you at lunch, provided you’re feeling up to it.”
 
 
He walked away, and Kathy and I headed for our cabins.
 
 
“You’re in pain,” she said, noticing the way I was walking and the grimace on my face.
 
 
“It could have been worse,” I said. “If I hadn’t had my hand around the banister, I would have gone all the way down.”
 
 
“You shouldn’t have chased him,” she said.
 
 
“Too late for that advice.”
 
 
Once inside my cabin, I decided not to lie down on the bed. I was afraid I wouldn’t wake up for a long time, and that would mean missing Glacier Bay. Instead, I went out onto the balcony, sat in a chair, with a blanket wrapped around me to ward off the chilly air, and watched as the ship slowly made its way into the bay and toward the major glaciers that would provide our sightseeing for the day.
 
 
I thought of many things while sitting there. Who was the man I’d so foolishly chased? There was no doubt any longer that he was showing a particular interest in me. If not, why would he have run away like that? I had to find out who he was and whether there was some connection between him and Wilimena’s disappearance.
 
 
I also thought of Bill Henderson. He could not have been more solicitous when coming to my aid. In the parlance of the man-woman mating game, he was undoubtedlya “catch.” Thinking that there was the possibility that he might continue to show a sincere interest in Kathy brought a smile to my lips. How wonderful it would be if they became a couple and married one day. My smile broadened further as I reminded myself that I was terribly premature in conjuring such scenarios. I was behaving like Dolly Levi, the matchmaker in
Hello, Dolly!
 
 
I extended my arm and was pleased that the pain had subsided somewhat. I got up, went to the railing, and looked down into the cold bay. Pieces of ice, large and small, floated by. A person wouldn’t last more than a few minutes in that frigid water before hypothermia set in. Just the thought of it sent additional chills through me. I leaned over the railing a little to see ahead of the ship. In the distance was a gigantic wall of ice, its top obscured by lingering, low-hanging clouds. Even from that far away I could see the blue tint emanating from the ice. David Johansen had been right. The overcast skies would provide the perfect viewing situation, and I couldn’t wait to get closer.
 
 
Kathy knocked on my door a few minutes before noon to see if I wanted to join her for lunch. I was feeling considerably better and readily agreed. “Let’s make it a quick one,” I suggested.
 
 
Our waiter told us that Mrs. Montgomery had decided to have lunch served in her cabin. The Johansens weren’t there, either. That left Kathy, Bill Henderson, and me to enjoy a fast soup-and-salad meal.
 
 
“I didn’t have any luck finding the guy in the blue shorts and yellow shirt,” Bill said. “Sorry.”
 
 
“I’m sure he’ll turn up,” I said. “The only time I ever see him is when he’s following me. Other than that, he seems to vanish into the ether.”
 
 
Bill laughed. “Maybe he’s a demented fan of your books, Jessica.”
 
 
Kathy joined in the laughter. “We’ve already encountered one of those,” she said. “Tell him, Jess, about the book signing in Seattle.”
 
 
I recounted the tale for him, and he listened intently, responding appropriately at times and asking an occasional question. When I finished, he shook his head and said, “It’s a miracle you lived to tell about it.”
 
 
“Actually,” I said, “I felt sorry for him. He was a poor soul with a very mixed-up mind.”
 
 
“Time to go glacier watching,” Kathy said.
 
 
“Join us, Bill?” I asked.
 
 
“I might drop by later. I have something else to tend to. I understand the captain will position the ship with one side facing the glaciers for about an hour, then turn it so passengers on the opposite side get a good view.”
 
 
“A sensible approach,” I said as we left the dining room.
 
 
Bill went off, leaving Kathy and me to decide on a vantage point from which to view the glaciers. We considered going to the Vista Lounge at the bow of the ship, a large, two-story area that accommodates hundreds of passengers. But it was bound to be crowded. Besides, it appeared that the ship was positioning itself to afford our side the first prolonged view. What better place than on one of our own balconies?
 
 
We chose mine. I ordered up tea and cookies—my shoulder, although less painful, still ached, and I know of no better salve than freshly baked cookies. We slipped into jackets and hats and stepped outside. The ship had now reached its anchoring position, maybe five hundred feet from the largest of the glaciers, and was turned so that we could feast our eyes on it. I looked down the length of the ship and saw that there were people on every balcony. I could hear them, too, laughing and expressing wonder at the scene. I’d left the door to the balcony slightly open in order to hear when room service arrived. When it did, we poured tea and took our cups and the cookie platter back outside.
 
 
“I feel so at peace,” Kathy said as the majesty of the glacier dominated everything.
 
 
“I know what you mean,” I said. “Just imagine, that incredible mountain of ice is nothing but ages of snowfall that never melted. I read that the annual snowfall here every winter would cover a six-story building.”
 
 
“But the glaciers are getting smaller, aren’t they?” Kathy said. “Global warming.”
 
 
“They are getting smaller. No debate about that. But they’re still huge.”
 
 
The bay in which we were anchored had once been covered by the glaciers. Today, due to the receding of the ice masses, the bay was now more than sixty miles long, and growing longer each year. Scientists predicted that as much as another fifty cubic miles of ice-bergs could disappear over the next half century.
 
 
Below us, the floe of ice that had calved from the face of the iceberg was considerably thicker than when we’d entered the mouth of Glacier Bay. Huge hunks of it floated by, and I wondered aloud whether there was a chance that one of the larger ones might damage the ship’s hull. I knew the answer: We wouldn’t be there in this multimillion-dollar ship if that were a possibility.
 
 
The sparkling blue-white face of the glacier was like an enormous gem shimmering in the diffused light of the ashen sky above. Kathy and I stood silently and allowed the majesty of the sight to sweep over us and render speech unnecessary. It was one of those moments when one’s place on the planet was put into perspective. Two humpback whales surfaced a few hundred feet away and disappeared again beneath the water. Dozens of harbor seals resting on bergs at the base of the glacier seemed oblivious to the hunks of ice that occasionally fell from the two-hundred-foot front wall and crashed into the bay, creating waves that reached the
Glacial Queen
and gently rocked the huge ship. There was one particularly large hunk of ice that broke loose, preceded by a loud crackling sound as thousands of air bubbles, trapped in the glacier during the high pressure that helped in its formation, were released. Then the chunk let loose and came crashing into the water, sending spray a hundred feet into the air and even gaining the attention of the otherwise blasé seals.
 
 
I’m not big on taking photographs when I travel, but Kathy was snapping pictures throughout this dazzling show of nature. Our tea had gotten cold, but I sipped some anyway and nibbled on a few cookies. Eventually, the captain came on the PA system and announced that he was now turning the ship to give passengers on the other side a good view.
 
 
“I’m freezing,” Kathy said, slapping her upper arms.
 
 
“Go inside. The show is over.”
 
 
She paused at the door. “You?”
 
 
“I’m going to stay out a bit longer. Actually, I’m relatively comfortable.”
 
 
I remained on the balcony and observed as the ship made a slow, deliberate turn in the water. The bow pointed directly at the glacier, and then the mass of ice went out of my sight line. Losing visual contact with it snapped me out of my contented reverie, and I started to feel the cold. I thought of my tumble on the stairs, and of the slight, pinched-face man in shorts and a T-shirt.
 
 
I looked through the glass doors. Kathy was sprawled on the bed; the TV was on.
 
 
I took what I intended to be one final look at Glacier Bay before calling it quits, directing my attention to the solid chunks of ice in the water below. I almost missed it at first. I’d turned away and started to go inside, but returned to the railing and peered down again. “Can it be?” I asked myself, a brisk breeze carrying my words up into the air. “Oh, no!”
BOOK: Murder, She Wrote: Panning For Murder: Panning For Murder (Murder She Wrote)
12.59Mb size Format: txt, pdf, ePub
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