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) (28 page)

BOOK: Murder, She Wrote: Panning For Murder: Panning For Murder (Murder She Wrote)
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Kathy and Bill stayed inside as I went out to the boardwalk, where Pearl was wooing tourists.
 
 
“Excuse me,” I said. “Princess told us that Dolly Arthur’s niece was here a few weeks ago.”
 
 
Pearl, who’d been smoking a cigarette through an elegant holder, removed the butt and ground it out beneath her shoe. “That’s right,” she said. “Wilimena Copeland. That was Dolly’s real name, you know. Copeland. Thelma Copeland.”
 
 
“Yes, I know. I understand Wilimena left something with you.”
 
 
Pearl nodded and made a pitch to a family that included two small daughters. “Come,” the mother said, grabbing her children’s hands and propelling them away from us. “It’s a brothel,” she hissed at her husband, who seemed interested in hearing more from Pearl.
 
 
“We’re trying to find her,” I said.
 
 
“Who?”
 
 
“Dolly Arthur’s niece, Wilimena Copeland. She disappeared from Ketchikan.”
 
 
“You’re kidding!”
 
 
“No, I’m not. I’m with her sister, Kathy. We’re from Maine, and we’ve come to Alaska in the hope that we can find out what happened to Wilimena.”
 
 
“Wow! I’m really sorry to hear that.”
 
 
“What did she leave with you?” I asked.
 
 
She lit another cigarette, placed it in the holder, and took a deep drag. “I don’t think that it would be appropriate for me to tell you. I mean, she left it here for safekeeping, and we promised we’d look after it.”
 
 
“I understand,” I said. “It’s just that—”
 
 
“You know,” she said, “confidentiality and all, like lawyers and clients, or doctors and patients.”
 
 
“I admire your loyalty,” I said, “but there’s more at stake here than that. We’re working with the Alaska State Troopers. In fact, we just left two of them a little while ago. I’d hate to have to call them to bring along a warrant.”
 
 
“No, don’t do that.”
 
 
“Well?”
 
 
“It’s her sister, you say?”
 
 
“Right.”
 
 
“I suppose that would make it all right. Maybe she could show me some identification.”
 
 
“I’m sure she’d be happy to.”
 
 
The second cigarette was extinguished, and we went inside, where Kathy obliged Pearl’s need for identification. Pearl and Princess left us alone for a minute as they conferred in the kitchen. When they returned, Pearl said, “Okay, we’ll let you see what she left with us.”
 
 
We stood there like characters in a motion picture who after a lengthy and dangerous journey have finally come upon the object of their search, a long-lost ark containing a king’s ransom. In this case, of course, the treasure would hopefully be a hint as to Wilimena’s whereabouts.
 
 
Pearl had fetched a key while in the kitchen. She ceremoniously used it to open the padlock, removed it from its hasp, and slowly, deliberately slid the drawer open. Kathy, Bill, and I strained to look over her shoulder as the drawer’s contents were revealed—a small, tan leather bag approximately eight inches long and four inches wide. A zipper ran the length of it. Pearl picked it up, held it in both hands for a moment, and handed it to Kathy.
 
 
“It’s Willie’s!” Kathy exclaimed. “She’s had it for years. She never travels without it.”
 
 
“Open it,” Bill said.
 
 
Kathy looked at Pearl and Princess, who discreetly walked away. Kathy undid the zipper and removed the first item from the bag, placing it on the top of the piece of furniture.
 
 
“Look,” she said. “It’s the digital recorder Willie bought in Seattle.”
 
 
It certainly looked like the Sony recorder the man in the electronics shop had shown us. I picked it up and examined it more closely. I was again surprised at its small size, only slightly larger than a cigarette lighter.
 
 
“What else is in there?” Bill asked.
 
 
“Just this,” said Kathy, holding up an envelope.
 
 
“Open it,” I said.
 
 
She did. Inside were the names and addresses of the
Glacial Queen
’s staff to whom Wilimena had promised gifts once she’d found the gold. Kathy shoved it into her jacket pocket.
 
 
“I suggest we listen to what’s on that recorder,” I said. I handed it to Bill. “Do you know how to work this thing?” I asked. “It has all these tiny buttons.”
 
 
“Sure,” he said. “It only looks complicated.”
 
 
He pushed one of the buttons, but I stopped him. “Not here,” I said. “Let’s take it outside.”
 
 
“Good suggestion,” Kathy said.
 
 
As we started to leave the museum, Pearl called, “Hey, where are you going with that?”
 
 
“Outside,” Bill said. “We want to listen to what’s on the recorder.”
 
 
“I don’t know,” Pearl said.
 
 
“Why don’t you call police headquarters?” I suggested. “Ask for Trooper McQuesten. He’ll vouch for us.”
 
 
That seemed to satisfy her, at least for the moment. We left the building and walked to where a small section of the boardwalk jutted out, providing space for a bench. “Ready?” Bill asked once Kathy and I had taken seats on either side of him.
 
 
“Go ahead,” I said.
 
 
He pushed a button or two. We waited.
 
 
“Hi, Kathy,” the female voice said.
 
 
Kathy gasped. “It’s Willie,” she said.
 
 
Wilimena Copeland continued: “I bet you think it’s funny, hearing me on this little recorder. You always kid me about never writing when I take a trip, not even a postcard, and I know that I should stay in touch when traveling. But I always did hate to write. Remember when we were in school, and I used to ask you to write my term papers? Maybe it’s because I have such terrible handwriting. I should’ve been a doctor.
 
 
“So I decided the best thing was to get myself a little tape recorder and talk into it whenever I’m on a trip. I thought I’d get a recorder that had one of those little tiny tapes that I could send you, but the nice man in the store where I bought this recorder said tapes were old-fashioned, and you know that the last thing I ever want to be considered is old-fashioned.” She giggled at this point, then went on.
 
 
“The salesman said I could hook this up to my computer, and that what I said into it would come up on the screen, just as though I’d written it. I know I’d never be able to figure something like that out, so maybe I’ll just send this whole recorder to you and you can listen for yourself.
 
 
“Actually, Kathy, if this were just any other trip, I probably wouldn’t have bothered buying a recorder. But this isn’t an ordinary trip. Far from it. When I sent you that note about us becoming rich, I meant it. Rememberwhen I lost those papers about Aunt Thelma? Well, your disorganized sister finally found them. Tada! It took me a while to figure out what was in the papers, but when I did, I almost had a heart attack. There were always those rumors about Aunt Thelma having been given a whole bunch of gold by that guy she used to go with, Lefty something or other. I never paid much attention, but lots of times I had little daydreams about finding that gold and becoming a rich woman. Not just me. You and me, Kathy. We would both be rich and travel the world like queens, with private jets and the best suites in the fanciest hotels, a couple of jet-setting sisters with all sorts of dashing, handsome men pursuing us. I know, I know, that’s not the kind of life you’ve ever wanted. But I bet you could get used to it once you experienced it.
 
 
“Anyway, sis, I did figure out what was in those papers, and once I did, I made up my mind to see whether Aunt Thelma’s gold really did exist. And you know what? I think it does exist, and I’m here in Ketchikan to go after it.
 
 
“It’s been an interesting trip so far. Originally, I intended to come directly to Ketchikan, but I decided I might as well enjoy a cruise as part of the experience. If the gold didn’t pan out—pardon the pun—I’d at least have had some fun. I must say that I did meet a lot of fascinating people on the ship, including a cute little Frenchman named Maurice. He was teaching passengers on the cruise how to speak French. He was kind of funny with his pencil-thin mustache and Continental ways. The problem was that I finally figured out that his interest in me had to do with the gold. I
 
 
know, I know, I shouldn’t have told anyone why I was on the trip. But you know me, Kathy. Keeping things to myself has never been part of my gene pool. I’m still worried about Maurice, and expect him to show up here in Ketchikan at any time. Just so you know, I’m sitting at this moment on a secluded little pier talking into this silly machine. God, I have never seen so many tourists in one place in my life, or so many jewelry stores.” Another giggle. “I bought a cup of coffee and brought it with me to this quiet spot where I could dictate this note to you. I hope the recorder is working. I’d hate to do all this talking and have nothing come out.
 
 
“So where was I? Oh, right. Another person I met on the cruise was the ship’s security officer. His name is Kale. When I told him someone had broken into my cabin—twice!—he just shrugged and said he couldn’t find any evidence of it. Jerk! I
know
somebody was rummaging around the cabin, no matter what he says. I didn’t like him one bit!”
 
 
Kathy slapped me on the arm. “Same as you, Jess,” she said.
 
 
Willie continued: “I just looked at my watch and realized I’d better get on my horse. Here’s why. I went to Aunt Thelma’s house—I guess I should call her Aunt Dolly—and introduced myself to the women who work there. Can you imagine that our aunt used to run a brothel and that they’ve turned it into a museum? She’s really famous in Alaska. I visited her grave. It’s in a pretty little place called Bayview Cemetery. Her plot is number forty-nine forty-nine. People say that when she died, every newspaper up and down the West Coast carried a big obituary about her. Imagine that, Kathy, a famous prostitute and madam in our family. Momma would turn over in her grave.
 
 
“Anyway, I went to the museum that used to be Aunt Dolly’s house of ill repute and got friendly with the women who work there as guides. You should see what they wear. I guess that’s the way prostitutes dressed in those days. They were really nice and let me hang around for a long time. I mean, once they knew who I was, I didn’t even have to pay the entrance fee. They left me alone to just sort of soak up the atmosphere. That was what I wanted, to be left alone, so that I could find what I was looking for. According to the papers I lost and then found again, Dolly had a map that showed where the gold was hidden, and I figured that after all these years, anyone could’ve taken the map and grabbed the gold for themselves. Maybe if there had been only one map, that would’ve happened. At one point, when the guides were out front trying to drum up business, I found a key that opened a padlock that secured a drawer in a piece of furniture in the hallway. Dolly must’ve been pretty smart, besides being a good businesswoman. There were at least ten maps in the drawer, so if anyone did know that Dolly had a map leading to the gold, they wouldn’t know which one it was. But I figured it out from the papers I went through. Sure enough, one of the maps had a little symbol on it that you really had to squint to see. It was the same symbol I picked up from the papers. Voilà! I was sure I had the right one.
 
 
“I just had a brilliant idea! I think I’ll leave this recorder in the drawer where I found the maps. You know me, sis. I’m likely to drop it in the water, and that’d be that. I’ll retrieve it when I get back and bring it with me to Cabot Cove along with the gold.
 
 
“I’d better wrap this up now. According to what I’d learned, Dolly was afraid to leave the gold in Ketchikan once her boyfriend, Lefty, never returned from a trip, so she took it to a cabin way out in the wilderness. I read that the state of Alaska built cabins in remote areas that hunters and fishermen can use, or people who get caught in a storm can use to survive. According to Aunt Dolly’s map, the cabin she chose is in the Misty Fjords. I read about it in a guidebook. It’s a national monument. It’s really huge, Kathy, more than two million acres. From the pictures I’ve seen, it looks cold, even in summer. I’m sitting here shivering just thinking about it. At any rate, I’m about to fly there. Can you believe it? You know how much I hate to fly, even in a big jet plane. But I’m going in one of these little puddle-jumper planes with one propeller. I just hope I can trust the pilot. He’s a sour old guy named Harold, but the price is right. I went to some of the big companies here in Ketchikan who rent out floatplanes, but they charge a fortune. You know me and what a cheapskate I can be.” Giggle. “I know what you’re thinking, Sis, that I live as though I were rich. I also know you don’t approve of all the men I’ve had in my life. I guess I do take advantage of them. I can’t think of the last time I paid for a meal. Men are always so willing to pick up the tab. But please don’t think poorly of me, Kathy. Once we have Aunt Dolly’s gold, I won’t have to pretend I’m rich. I will be! And so will you!
BOOK: Murder, She Wrote: Panning For Murder: Panning For Murder (Murder She Wrote)
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