Death Takes Passage #4

by Sue Henry

  Jensen looked at her in silence, waiting.

  She shook her head. “Not mine. This is the only one I’ve used—had. It was not there when I put this one in. That thing is real, isn’t it?”

  As far as he could tell, she was honestly astonished and telling the truth. However, he couldn’t ignore the fact that she was an actor, and a good one, from all he had seen. The item of jewelry he held in his hand was, obviously, the missing chain that had reportedly been stolen from Judy Raymond’s stateroom two days before. How had it turned up here? Who could have known about the false one made of bits and pieces of costume jewelry, and then been smart enough to slip it into Laurie’s case, where it would lie undisturbed until she needed the fake one for the play? Would she have pulled out the fake, if she had known the real one was right there, under it?

  She now looked frightened, as comprehension dawned. “Is that one of the things that was stolen while we were in Haines? It couldn’t have been me, Alex. I was off the ship for the whole party. Jim and I came back just before we sailed. We were some of the last people to get back on. I don’t know where that thing came from, but I did not put it there.”

  He wondered where the watch and clip and its money were. Should he search this cabin? He looked back into the case, but neither of the other items was there. Glancing around the room, littered with personal clothing and professional costumes and props for both Trevino and Beal, he knew there were dozens of places the other items could be hidden—the pockets of the red mountie’s coat hanging from the closet door, a suitcase under a bed, the mattress of the bed itself, beneath which any small item could be secreted. The list was endless. It would take time to search it properly, even with cause to do so.

  He looked down at the chain he still held suspended. There was no chance of finding prints on it, and it was senseless to send it to the lab in Anchorage. It had no surface adequate to hold enough of a print to identify anyone.

  Reluctantly, he gave up any idea of searching Trevino’s room. Perhaps the clip and the watch would soon surface. Maybe the thief, wary of being caught, was trying to put the items where they would be found and throw suspicion on someone else, hopeful that the search would stop if the items were returned. Putting them back where they belonged seemed an obvious choice. If it was possible they could be put back in the staterooms from which they had been stolen, a stakeout of some kind could be fruitful in catching the pilferer. Not knowing the thief’s identity, it was also the only place he could watch.

  Wrapping the real gold chain in a scarf Laurie loaned him, Jensen laid a hand on her shoulder. “Don’t be upset. It’s pretty obvious that someone is trying to get rid of this before they’re caught with it. It doesn’t make much sense that you’d lead me right to it. I think you’d have hidden it. I wonder why it was left here.”

  “Maybe because I mentioned one last night in the play.” She smiled weakly and sank down on the bed in relief, as he headed for the door. “Thanks, Alex. See you here at four?”

  She was probably right, he thought. He assured her he would remember and picked up his costume as he left, though he was more concerned with crime-solving than the play.

  On an off chance, he went up to have a look in the staterooms of the Berrys and Lovegrens, but neither the watch nor the money clip had been found. Both couples were interested and almost apologetic that their possessions had not turned up, obviously wishing he could find them and stop everyone’s worrying.

  Four possibilities occurred to Jensen. The watch and clip were long gone over the side of the ship and would never be found or returned; they were still in the possession of the thief and would remain so; they would turn up later in the Lovegren and Berry staterooms; or they might have been, or would be, returned to someone else on the Spirit, like Laurie, who either had not yet found them or who had no idea where they came from, or what to do with them. If the thief kept the two still missing items after returning the chain, it might be because they were more anonymous, though without authenticity from the Berry family the watch was just another old timepiece. The gold nugget chain was a one-of-a-kind item, and anyone who was offered the opportunity to buy it might question where it came from and how this person came to have possession of it. It was worth, according to Raymond, fifty thousand dollars—at least it was insured for that much.

  The likelihood that an attempt might be made to return the watch and clip to their owners inclined Jensen toward setting some kind of watch on their stateroom, but how and who? Anyone watching the door from the narrow passageway outside it would immediately be seen by anyone attempting to enter. The watcher would have to be someone in motion, and someone who would not be considered and recognized by the thief as an observer. The other prospect was to put someone inside one or the other of the staterooms. In either case, the waiting could be long and unsuccessful. However, with the gold chain returned, waiting had a reasonable chance, but it would have to be done soon if it was to be done at all.

  17

  2:00 P.M.

  Tuesday, July 15, 1997

  Spirit of ‘98

  Frederick Sound, Inside Passage, Alaska

  JESSIE FIRST WENT TO THE BRIDGE DECK TO TAKE SOME pictures of Dallas and Rozetta against the scenery they were passing, and to wait till the ship drew closer to the glacier, which they could now see in the distance. Rozie had also brought her camera along—a neat little pocket variety with a zoom lens, which she said, with a laugh, was supposedly foolproof.

  “I just can’t get the hang of a camera like yours. Every time I want to change lenses I am convinced that I’m exposing all the film inside,” she said. “I’ve also got a lot of pitch-black shots of the lens cap—when I wasn’t losing it.”

  “You ought to take a class on the basics,” Jessie encouraged. “That’s what I did. It really isn’t as hard as it looks.”

  “Did you get some pictures of the glacier this morning?”

  “No, I missed most of it. We were pretty busy.”

  “Look,” said Rozetta, turning. “There are more seals on the ice, Jessie. Aren’t they something? If you can get some close-ups, would you send me one? I can’t understand how they can tolerate lying on that ice, even the babies.”

  “The water is hardly any warmer than the ice, and they swim in that, too. They’re well protected with fat and warm coats—more than they look.”

  Jessie went to the rail and began to snap photos of the harbor seals.

  “Speaking of cold,” Dallas volunteered. “I’m damn close to freezing. You two are moving. I’m just sitting here, so I’m going down where I can get some hot coffee and watch it all through those wonderful lounge windows.”

  “I’ll come, too. There’s hot chocolate.” Rozetta moved to push her aunt’s chair. “Jessie?”

  “Not yet. I think I’ll see how close we get. That glacier is pretty awesome.”

  The other two moved away toward the elevator, leaving her to watch the fantastic river of ice grow slowly larger as the Spirit moved tentatively between the icebergs the glacier had produced.

  Photography was not the only attraction for Jessie, however. As Dallas moved, Jess had been able to see, for the first time, Lou Stanley, sitting with her back to where they had held their conversation. Slumped down in the deck chair, she was so tiny she had been almost invisible until Dallas wheeled away. Her headphones were, as usual, on her head, but, as she walked nearer the girl, Jessie noticed that none of the telltale whisper of sound spilled over to let her know that Lou’s music was turned up to the volume relished by teenagers who didn’t value their hearing.

  “Lou,” she asked, “would you stand by the rail and let me take a picture with the glacier behind you, so there’s some perspective? Otherwise no one will know how big it really was.”

  The girl turned to look at her, then got up and came to stand leaning on the rail. “Sure. Why not?” She pulled off the headphones, releasing her thick, crinkled hair, which sprang up, an attractive, windblown frame around her fac
e. “That’s a cool camera.”

  “Do you like photography?” Jessie asked, as she focused in on her, also taking the measure of her cooperation.

  “Don’t know. I don’t have a real camera—just a couple of those phony ones that you give back the whole thing and they develop the pictures. With one of them, though, you can take a really wide picture. Like you could get in the whole glacier and everything.”

  Jessie took the picture, then moved to take another, a close-up of Lou, having noticed how striking the contrast of her red hair was against the bluish white of the glacier ice. The girl did not smile, the ordinary “Say cheese” reaction being absent. But a pleasant glint of humor in her eyes and the slight tilt of her head revealed much more character than any wide smile could have.

  “Would you like to see how this camera works?” Jessie asked, when she had finished for the moment.

  Lou came to sit down and, after a little tutoring, was taking a picture of Jessie, as the woman guided her through the intricacies of 35mm camera settings. Lou was a quick study and seemed truly interested in what she was learning. When Lou had taken one or two more shots, Jessie showed her how to change lenses and was gratified at the girl’s delight in looking through the different lenses.

  “This is like the one I have that takes wide pictures,” Lou enthused, peering through the viewfinder. “Except you can see a lot more with this. But I like the one that’s like a telescope best. You can see the seals as if they were up close, then closer.”

  “The one you have now is called a wide-angle lens,” Jessie told her. “The other one you already know is a zoom lens. And you’re right, it lets you sort of sneak up on things that are a long ways away. There are stronger, bigger ones, but that one’s my favorite. It goes from 35 to 70mm. That means like looking through an ordinary camera lens, then it makes things seem much closer. I have one more that goes from 70 to 200mm that I use once in a while, when I want to get in really close. Those two and the wide angle make it easier than carrying a whole bagful of lenses.”

  “Can I try the one that lets you get really close?”

  “Sure. You can take some pictures of the seals for me with it.”

  They had just attached the long zoom lens, and Lou, with enthusiastic concentration, was focusing the camera back toward the glacier, when Jensen got off the elevator and crossed the deck to where they were standing. He was holding two paper cups full of coffee.

  Jessie grinned and raised a finger to her lips to warn him to stillness.

  “Hold it very still, Lou. Any movement of yours will spoil the picture. A long lens is very sensitive to movement. When you’re ready, take a deep breath, then let it out. Just as you finish exhaling, take the picture.”

  Lou followed her advice. Still looking through the camera, she spoke excitedly. “Oh, Jessie. Come and see this baby with its momma. It’s so cute … and with this lens it fills the whole picture.”

  Lowering the camera, she turned and was surprised to see Jensen standing with Jessie.

  “Hi … ah … sir,” she greeted him, obviously confused as to what to call him.

  “It’s just Alex, Lou. This is supposed to be a vacation. We’ll save the sergeant stuff for some more formal occasion, okay?”

  “Okay … Alex.” She grinned.

  “If I’d known you were here, too, I’d have brought you something to drink. Sorry.”

  “Oh, that’s okay. I’m not thirsty. Can I take some more, Jessie?”

  “Sure. There’s about half a roll of film, maybe fifteen or sixteen frames left. You can take mem if you want.”

  “Can I change the lens?”

  “Yes. You know how. Just be careful that the one you put on is locked into place so it doesn’t fall off. Check that before you use it and put the one you remove back in its case.”

  “I’ll be very careful, thanks.”

  Alex and Jessie moved to a table, where they sat down to watch her and savor the warmth of the coffee on their hands, as well as mouths, as they drank it.

  “Looks like you’ve made a friend,” Alex observed, as Lou competently changed the lens on Jessie’s camera and conscientiously put it away.

  “She’s really sharp and pretty easy to get to know.”

  “Listen,” he told her, “you’ll be glad to hear that Judy Raymond’s gold chain turned up.”

  “Hey, that’s great. Who took it?”

  “I’ve no idea. And the Berrys’ watch and Love grens’ money clip are still outstanding.”

  He told her how and where the chain had been found and his suspicion that the others might be returned as well, possibly to the staterooms.

  “Cash is impossible to identify, but that clip is one of a kind, as is the watch. Whoever has them will probably try to get rid of them. I’m surprised the chain wasn’t tossed overboard. Whoever put it in Laurie’s things risked being seen. Someone went in and out of her stateroom, sometime during lunch would be my guess. But it’s perilously close to the dining room.”

  Concentrating on their conversation, neither Alex nor Jessie had noticed Lou as she approached the table, camera in hand.

  “There was a man, dressed like a deckhand, only not, that started to go into the stateroom of that man who had his money stolen, white you were all having lunch,” she said. “But someone came along and it looked like he changed his mind, because he went away fast.”

  Startled, they both stared at her.

  “Good lord. You saw him, Lou?” Jensen asked her.

  She nodded.

  “What did he look like?”

  “I don’t know. It was too far away and I only saw him for a second, then he was walking away from me, see? Before he tried to go in, I mean. Then he went the other way, around the front of the ship and I couldn’t see his face at all.”

  “Where were you, Lou? Why weren’t you at lunch?” Jessie questioned.

  “Well, I looked at the menu by the dining room and it said they were having Mexican food. I hate Mexican food … yuk … so I didn’t go to lunch. I had some hot chocolate and cookies instead.”

  “And where were you when you saw this man? If you saw him, why didn’t he see you?”

  “Come and I’ll show you.” She handed the camera back to Jessie. “I only took six. Maybe I could take the rest later?”

  “Sure you could.”

  Jessie put the camera back in the bag and went with Lou and Alex, as they headed for the nearest stairs. One level down, on the Upper Deck, the girl led them toward the stern on the starboard side of the Spirit.

  “It was kind of cold,” she said, as they walked back, “but kind of nice, too, because everyone else was in the dining room. There wasn’t anyone going up and down the stairs, so I could sit on the bottom step and just watch the scenery go by.”

  She pointed to the stairs that came down on a diagonal from port to starboard of stern. Looking through the metal steps that were empty of risers, Jensen could see the clamp and sleeve that had held the red fire ax in place. This part of the ship was consistently and closely curved, and the rail that ran around outside the strip of deck followed the same line. The stairs took up most of the space within that curve, so that there was enough room for one person to pass outside it easily, but not for two people to pass each other, as there was elsewhere on the deck. Still, from the bottom step, it would not be possible to look down the corridor made by the deck as it straightened to pass the length of the ship.

  “Lou, you couldn’t have seen anyone go into the stateroom from here.”

  “I know. I didn’t. Pretty soon I moved and got more comfortable, with my back against the wall, facing out. I sat there,” she pointed again, farther to the starboard this time, “and when I leaned a little I could look around and down that way.”

  It was true. Jensen could see that she could have done just that.

  “Just as I looked around, he came out of that sort of hall in the middle of the ship, by the elevator. He looked this way for just a second, then we
nt straight to the stateroom door and had his hand on the door handle. Just then a woman came up behind him, walking toward the front of the ship, in the same direction he had. He let go of the door handle and moved away forward in a hurry, like he didn’t want her to see his face, like I told you.”

  “Will you sit down there again, for me, Lou?”

  She did.

  “Now lean around, like you did at lunchtime.”

  She leaned.

  Jensen walked back up the deck till he was standing at the place where Lou said the man had looked toward the stern. There he looked in that direction. In a moment or two, he walked on to the Berrys’ stateroom and looked back again. Then he came back down the deck and paused at a place between two of the rear staterooms, where an interesting collection of red pipes and fire equipment was attached to the wall. An alarm that would ring with a clapper inside was fastened next to a red pipe that ran from the deck they stood on almost to the overhead ceiling that was the Bridge Deck above. Midway down, the pipe branched. With a faucet handle to control water flow, it was connected to a fabric-covered firehose that folded in loops into a rack. Below the alarm was a break-the-glass-in-case-of-fire-type alarm box. Everything that had to do with fire was red, except the hose.

  “You didn’t duck back when he turned this way, did you, Lou?”

  “No. It didn’t seem important for him not to see me.”

  “You’re wearing a red jacket. You must have been almost motionless. On this inner side of the walkway, sitting down close to the deck, you blended right in with the red of that fire equipment. He must not have noticed you at all.”

  “You said he was dressed like a deckhand—only not,” Jessie said. “What did you mean by the ‘only not’ part, Lou? What made you think he wasn’t a deckhand?”

  “I didn’t. I mean I thought he was, but it seemed kind of funny, his going in. They had already cleaned the staterooms and he wasn’t carrying anything, like towels or stuff. You know. I just heard what you said about someone going into someone’s stateroom during lunch, and I remembered. He was the only one who went in during lunch. Well, maybe not—I was sitting on the stairs part of the time—but he was the only one I saw.