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) (2 page)

BOOK: Murder, She Wrote: Panning For Murder: Panning For Murder (Murder She Wrote)
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“Those receipts would give some indication of where she went and what she might have done in the various ports of call,” I offered.
 
 
“Did you look through them yourself?” Michael Cunniff asked. He had been practicing law in Cabot Cove for as long as I’d lived there. He was in his late seventies but hadn’t lost a step mentally. Physically, however, he was a mass of orthopedic maladies that necessitated his walking with a cane. With long, flowing silver hair and a penchant for colorful bow ties to accompany his many suits, he was an attorney right out of central casting—or maybe a U.S. senator of yesteryear.
 
 
“I must have gone over them a dozen times on the flight home,” Kathy replied, referring to her sister’s receipts. “They were all from the ports the ship had visited earlier, Juneau and Sitka. Ketchikan was the last stop in Alaska before returning to Seattle.”
 
 
“And?” I asked.
 
 
Kathy shrugged. “They mean nothing to me. Just receipts from shops and restaurants Willie visited in those ports, and a bunch of shipboard receipts, too, from the various lounges and shops.”
 
 
“I’d like to see them,” Michael said. He’d been Kathy’s attorney since she moved to Cabot Cove forty years ago.
 
 
“Of course,” she said.
 
 
“Are the Alaskan police at all confident about finding Wilimena?” Seth asked.
 
 
“They said they would do all they could,” Kathy answered, “but they also reminded me that Alaska is a very big place, especially . . .”
 
 
“Especially what?” I asked.
 
 
“Especially if Willie doesn’t want to be found.”
 
 
“Ironic, isn’t it, Jess, that you’ll soon be heading for Alaska?” Maureen said.
 
 
It was true. I’d visited our forty-ninth state years ago on a whirlwind book promotion tour, with Anchorage my only stop. It was one of those insane trips in which you fly into a city in the morning, are met by an energetic local PR person who runs you ragged from one radio and TV station to the next, then lunch with a local newspaper writer, book signings in the afternoon, a talk at a library, and no time for dinner because your plane leaves at six for the next stop. So although I literally had visited Alaska, I’d never seen it, and I had decided to rectify that by booking an Inland Passage cruise—the same one Kathy’s sister, Wilimena, had taken and from which she’d vanished, on the
Glacial Queen
, a relatively new ship. I’d booked the cruise months in advance, combining it with a long weekend in Seattle prior to the ship’s departure. I have a favorite mystery bookstore there run by a marvelous gentleman, Bill Farley, who always arranges for a book signing whenever I’m within striking distance of his store on Cherry Street.
 
 
My reason for choosing an Alaskan cruise, as opposed to visiting other places on the globe, was a nagging need to get closer to nature. It had been building in me all winter, and by the time January rolled around, it had become almost an obsession. True, Maine teems with wildlife, which is one of many reasons I love living here. But Alaska has a very different lure for those of us enamored of nature and the remarkable array of creatures with whom we share our planet. So many of my friends have returned from up north filled with lifelong memories of having sailed into the midst of a pod of orca whales or having seen majestic bald eagles in virtually every treetop. Witnessing nature up close and personal has always helped me put things, includingmyself, in perspective, affirming my place in this world.
 
 
“Maybe you could ask a few questions while you’re there, Mrs. F.,” Mort suggested. “You know, check in with the local police and see if they’ve made any progress in finding Wilimena.”
 
 
“I’d be happy to do that,” I said, “although I’m not sure they’d be anxious to share anything with me.”
 
 
“But they would with me,” Kathy said.
 
 
“Of course they would,” said Mort. “You’re the missing person’s sister.”
 
 
Kathy looked at me and said, “What I meant, Jessica, was . . . um . . . I was wondering whether you’d mind a traveling companion.”
 
 
“A traveling companion?”
 
 
She nodded. “I don’t mean to impose myself on you and your trip. Believe me, I know how much this trip means to you, and I wouldn’t for a second intrude. But considering what’s happened to Wilimena—and that you’re taking the same cruise as she did, on the same ship—it just seemed to me that, well, that maybe retracing her steps would help me come to grips with her disappearance.”
 
 
“I, ah . . .”
 
 
Truth was, I was looking forward to the Alaska cruise as a means of getting away from everything and anything and basking in a week of solitude, with whales, sea lions, otters, and eagles as traveling companions.
 
 
I looked over at Seth, who knew exactly what I was thinking, not only because he knows me so well but also because I’d spoken to him about my need to escape on a solo jaunt.
 
 
“Sounds like a good idea to me,” Mike Cunniff said, running his hands through his hair. “Besides, Jessica, you seem to have a knack for getting to the bottom of things rather quickly, especially when it involves—”
 
 
He’d almost said “murder,” and I was glad he hadn’t.
 
 
“What a great idea,” Maureen said to me. “You’d have company and—”
 
 
“Mo and I talked about taking that cruise with you, Mrs. F.,” Mort said, “but it’s a bad time of the year for me.”
 
 
Startled, I turned to him. “I didn’t know you’d been considering coming,” I said.
 
 
“Will George be joining you?” Charlene Sassi asked, referring to George Sutherland, the Scotland Yard inspector with whom I’d become close.
 
 
“No,” I answered. “Why would you think he would be?”
 
 
Charlene gave me a sly, knowing smile.
 
 
“It’s probably not a good idea, me joining you,” Kathy said.
 
 
“Oh, no, it’s a—it’s a good idea, Kathy. I just wasn’t planning on traveling with anyone.”
 
 
“I’d stay out of your hair, Jess,” she said, “go my own way and try to find out what’s happened to Willie.” She laughed. “Chances are she met up with some handsome Mountie and decided to spend some time with him in Alaska.”
 
 
“Or marry him?” Seth said.
 
 
Kathy sighed deeply.
 
 
“How many times has your sister been married?” Charlene asked.
 
 
“Let me see,” Kathy said, counting on her fingers. “Four, I think. No—five!”
 
 
Everyone had an opinion and a comment to make about Wilimena’s penchant for tying the knot, but we stifled the temptation to express them. Wilimena’s multiple marriages obviously satisfied a need of hers, and who were we to judge?
 
 
“Lovely dinner, as usual, Jessica,” Seth said as they prepared to leave.
 
 
“Simple,” I said.
 
 
“Always the best kind,” Seth opined.
 
 
I saw them to the door and waved good-bye as they got into their vehicles. I locked up behind them, then went to the kitchen and tidied up before undressing for bed and slipping into a fresh pair of pajamas, a robe, and slippers. I’d become sleepy during the latter part of the evening, but now found myself wide-awake. I added a log to the fireplace and sat in front of the yellow-orange flames, which cast pleasant shafts of light and shadow over the room. What consumed my thinking was, of course, Kathy Copeland’s story about her sister’s disappearance in Alaska. Had I been rude in not responding with enthusiasm to her suggestion that she accompany me on my Alaskan trip? I was certainly sympathetic to her worries and her determination to do what she could to find Wilimena.
 
 
I suppose a sense of urgency was lacking in my mind because of Wilimena’s history. I’d met her on a number of occasions when she’d come to Cabot Cove to visit her sister. Wilimena was a bigger-than-life character, flamboyant and glamorous, so unlike Kathy, who was the salt of the earth and dressed and acted like it. My friend wore flannel shirts, jeans, and workman’s boots most of the time. She was a master gardener and an excellent cook, and enjoyed the simple pleasures of a good book, a hike in the woods, or a fish fry down on the beach. She’d never married, which surprised me. Somewhere out there was a man who was missing out on a first-rate wife.
 
 
Wilimena, on the other hand, was flashy in a big-city sort of way, fond of glittery dresses that showed off her splendid figure, lots of jewelry, elaborate hair-dos of varying hues, and a heavy albeit effective use of makeup. Wilimena was, Kathy once told me, the younger of the sisters, but by only a few years. Despite Wilimena’s over-the-top personality, which could quickly wear you down, she was personable and likable, which her numerous husbands had obviously recognized, too.
 
 
I was pondering the events of the evening when the phone rang.
 
 
“Hello?”
 
 
“Jessica? It’s Kathy.”
 
 
“Oh, I’m glad you’re home safe.”
 
 
“Seth’s a careful driver. He was a dear to offer to bring me.”
 
 
“He’s a dear about so many things.”
 
 
“That he is, Jessica. Listen, I’m calling because I feel terrible about having suggested I go with you to Alaska.”
 
 
“Why would you feel terrible?” I asked. “It was a sound suggestion. It’s just that—”
 
 
“It was pushy of me, Jessica, and I apologize.”
 
 
“No apologies needed, Kathy. As a matter of fact—”
 
 
“Yes?”
 
 
“I was just sitting here thinking about that very thing.”
 
 
“You were?”
 
 
“Yes, and I think an apology is due from my end, too.”
 
 
“For heaven’s sake, why, Jessica?”
 
 
“Because you’re obviously in need of some answers to Wilimena’s disappearance, and taking the same cruise that she took might provide them. And, as Mike Cunniff said, I do seem to have a knack for getting to the bottom of things. Besides, having company would be good for me. So, Kathy, I would be pleased to have you join me on the cruise.”
 
 
“You would?”
 
 
“Yes, I would. I think you’d better call Susan Shevlin and see if she can get you space on the ship. It is, after all, very last-minute.”
 
 
“I’ll do it first thing in the morning. You’re sure, Jessica?”
 
 
I laughed. “Yes, I’m sure, Kathy. Get a booking in the morning, and let’s meet for lunch to discuss the trip.”
 
 
“Wonderful! Thanks so much, Jessica.”
 
 
“My pleasure, Kathy. Now, it’s time for this lady to get to bed. See you tomorrow at Mara’s. Twelve thirty okay?”
 
 
“I’ll be there.”
 
 
The conversation with Kathy, and the decision I’d made, lifted the veil of ambivalence I’d been feeling, allowing fatigue once again to settle in. There’s nothing like taking action when something unresolved is hanging over your head. I fell asleep quickly, a smile on my face.
 
 
Chapter One
 
 
“I feel uncomfortable flying first class, Kathy, and you being in coach.”
 
 
“Don’t be silly, Jessica,” she replied. “You’ve had your reservations for a long time. Mine are last-minute. Don’t even think about it.”
 
 
When I made my reservation to fly from Boston to Seattle, I’d used some of my accumulated frequent-flier miles to upgrade to a first-class seat. Kathy, who seldom travels, didn’t have that luxury and was booked in the coach section of the aircraft. I’d suggested changing my reservation to coach so that we could sit together, but she’d adamantly insisted that I not. “I’d feel terrible,” she said. “Besides, I’ve brought two good books with me. I wouldn’t be a talkative seat companion, anyway.”
BOOK: Murder, She Wrote: Panning For Murder: Panning For Murder (Murder She Wrote)
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