Darkest Journey (Krewe of Hunters #20)(58)

Ethan had been through as much of the ship as he could in an hour, escorted by the captain, a man named Timothy Banks. Banks was the perfect image of a riverboat captain, if Ethan had ever seen one. He was about fifty-five, tall, straight as an arrow, with a full head of white hair and a fine white beard-and-mustache combo to match.

He would have looked at home guiding the Journey all those years ago when she’d changed hands during the course of the war.

He loved the Journey, so he’d been happy to take Ethan on a quick stroll from deck to deck—the Main Deck, the New Orleans Deck, the Louisiana Deck, the Mississippi or Observation Deck, the Promenade and the Sun Deck. There were small inside staterooms on two of the decks, including the Main Deck, and those were given over to the crew and entertainment staff. The Eagle View dining room, the main onboard restaurant, was also on the Main Deck, and that was where Charlie would be performing every night with Alexi and Clara.

The gym, the pool, rows of lounge chairs and a small but excellent bar/restaurant were, naturally, located on the Sun Deck, while all the other decks above the waterline offered promenades, smaller and less crowded than those on the Promenade Deck. The Pilot House was also located on the Sun Deck.

As far as cruise ships went, the Journey was on the smaller side, but between passengers and crew, she still carried about five hundred people.

Captain Banks told Ethan that even though they were on the river and within easy reach of many fine hospitals, they had a ship’s doctor, Gerard Amerind, two nurses and a small but state-of-the-art infirmary. It wasn’t located on the Main Deck, where the infirmary had been located during the war. Of course, back then they’d needed a larger facility, since most of the men on the ship had been ill or injured. Today the infirmary could be found on the Sun Deck, where Ethan’s tour ended.

From there, he and Banks could look out at the other ships currently in port. They were also high enough to stare out over the river and the crescent curve that made up New Orleans, the tall buildings of the Central Business District and even the tops of the old Spanish-and French-style buildings in the Quarter. If they turned around, they could see into the Celtic American terminal, crowded now with passengers eager and excited to embark on the cruise.

“Bad business, huh?” Captain Banks said, shaking his head. “Don’t know what you think you can learn from being on the Journey. I wish to God I could help you, though.”

“What do you remember about the reenactment? Did you notice anyone who seemed to be harboring a grudge against either of the murdered men?”

“There was that one little spat I’m sure you already know about, but Jonathan stepped in and it was over quick.”

“Did you know all the reenactors?”

“Good Lord, no! I’ve had occasion to meet a few of them here and there, but I seldom have time to watch any of the programming, much less leave the ship when we’re in port. Every once in a while I meet up with a friend somewhere along the way. But I’ve captained this riverboat along the Mississippi six years now, and mostly I use any ‘free’ time to look out over the water and finish up the obligatory paperwork.”

“Did you know Albion Corley or Farrell Hickory, or, by any chance, a woman named Selma Rodriguez?”

The captain took a long look at Ethan. “I met Corley and Hickory once at a combined function of the lodges.”

“The lodges?”

“Masonic lodges. We were doing a benefit to help rebuild one of the local schools. It’s over a decade since Katrina, but there’s still work to be done.”

“So you did know them?”

“In passing. Enough so that we greeted one another the day of the program. I watched them that night, chatting up Wall Street types and oil barons, convincing them to open up their purse strings. I remember they said they were both involved in animal rescue after the big oil spill, too. They were right on the front lines, helping wash off all those birds and such. Hands-on men, they were, not just talkers. Now, as for Selma Rodriguez...” He paused, looking perplexed as he stared at Ethan. “I know that name. I’m just not sure why.”

“She was murdered in Baton Rouge.”

“Poor woman. That must be why I’d heard her name. The world can be a cruel place.” He shook his head, as if at a loss to understand how such things happened. Then he looked at Ethan again. “Is there a relationship between her murder and Corley’s and Hickory’s?”

“I don’t know. She worked for the college where Corley taught.”

“Was she a reenactor, too?”

“No, but she and Corley were friendly.”

“I see.” The captain shook his head. “I’m sorry I haven’t been any help, but if I can assist you in any way during the cruise, just let me know.”

“Thank you.”

Banks offered him a firm handshake, then headed off to make sure everything was ready for the arriving passengers.

Even though Banks hadn’t told him anything to move his investigation forward, Ethan had found the tour extremely helpful. Now he knew where to find just about anything on the ship. He was glad that the Belles’ cabins, and their rehearsal and performance spaces, would be close together. Easier to keep an eye on them that way.

There was a nine-man security staff aboard the ship—three per eight-hour shift—and that was reassuring, too. When Banks had told him about them, he had emphasized his belief that the ship was a safe space. “Whatever’s going on,” Banks had told him, “it’s not going on here, not on the Journey.” He’d let out a deep sigh, a striking figure with his white hair and beard, and impeccable period-style captain’s uniform.