Darkest Journey (Krewe of Hunters #20)(62)

“Isn’t it beautiful?” Charlie said to him. “I understand why my father’s chosen to work on a ship. Of course, he didn’t start until after I left for college and my mom died. Before that he’d taught in Baton Rouge and gave tours there and at various plantations. But he loves this.” She paused, looking at him. “Speaking of my dad... How did it go?”

“Great. He thinks you have deplorable taste in men, but since you can’t have a giant German shepherd on board, he seems to think I’m the next best thing. In fact, he pretty much gave me his approval to sleep with you.”

“I’m sorry,” she said, laughing. “But...really? Dad gave you his approval? I’ll believe that when I see it.” She turned serious. “But I guess you being able to joke about it means he wasn’t too hostile?”

“No, actually, we had an almost pleasant conversation.”

“Well, good. And what do you think about what he told you?”

“I think I need to speak to Shelley Corley and find out if anyone else had even an inkling of what was going on between her and Farrell.”

Charlie looked worried. “I’m not trying to pretend bigots don’t exist, but I honestly don’t think the killer’s a racist who was mad because a white man and a black man were friends.”

“Charlie, I agree. I think we’re looking for someone who had a very personal grudge against both victims, a grudge that had nothing to do with racial prejudice but might still involve the engagement.”

“But why kill Selma?” she asked. “Albion was friendly with her, but I doubt she knew anything about his personal life.”

“I don’t know the answer to that, not yet. But I’m certain she died because she knew him.”

Just then Thor walked up and joined them. “It’s beautiful here—very different from where I come from.” He leaned against the rail. “I talked with the two nurses. A number of the reenactors wound up in the infirmary. Two wasp stings, one gash that needed stitches—another reenactor didn’t know his right from his left—and a case of poison ivy acquired ashore. They didn’t remember the names, but they’re going to get the records for me. Probably won’t mean anything, but...” He shrugged. “I still need to talk to the doctor. Apparently he’s up here on deck somewhere.”

“I think that’s him,” Clara said, and pointed across the deck. “I saw his picture on the Meet Your Crew bulletin board by guest services.”

A man in a white uniform, complete with cap, was talking to a pair of young women. He was tall and blond and suntanned, lean, probably about forty-five or fifty.

“We can find out,” Ethan said and walked over to the man. He excused himself to the women and said something to the man, who shook hands and then accompanied Ethan to join them at the rail.

He was indeed Dr. Gerard Amerind—“Gerry to my friends”—and he said he hoped they would all be his friends.

After the others introduced themselves, Ethan cut right to the chase and asked, “So, what do you remember from the day of the special reenactment?”

“What do I remember?” Amerind asked. He snorted. “Grown men getting hurt in ridiculous ways. First, two of them disturbed a wasps’ nest. Could have been worse if they hadn’t been the only ones stupid enough to try getting rid of it. Then there was an idiot guy who got confused between right and left, and cut one of his fellow reenactors. That guy needed stitches. Another idiot got into poison ivy before he came aboard.”

“Your nurses told me about all of them,” Thor said politely.

Amerind let out a sigh. “They’re great nurses, though they’d be even better if they weren’t jumping out of their skins all the time. They’re convinced the ship is haunted.”

“What respectable ship isn’t?” Clara asked with a smile.

Amerind didn’t seem to hear her. He looked perplexed, as if he had just thought of something. He looked at them and said uneasily, “There was another man. He came in after the reenactment... Well, he didn’t come in, exactly. He was older, tall, a very dignified-looking African American. He was seated at one of the deck tables, near the infirmary. He looked flushed and he was out of breath. Given his age, I immediately wondered about his heart, but when I offered my assistance, he said he’d be fine in a minute. I’d heard him arguing with a couple just before I walked by and saw him, so I assumed that he’d gotten a bit upset, and his blood pressure had risen. He wasn’t in any immediate danger, so there wasn’t much I could do. But I did ask Mindy—Nurse Gunderson—if she’d bring him some water, which she did. He was one of the men who was killed, wasn’t he?”

“Possibly,” Ethan said. “It does sound like Albion Corley. He was a very striking man.”

“Noble,” Amerind said thoughtfully. “That’s what came to mind. And he had a beautiful speaking voice, deep, rich, very clear.”

“Like a professor,” Charlie murmured.

“Yes, exactly.”

“Do you have any idea who he was arguing with? He’d had an argument with someone earlier when the performance was being set up,” Ethan said. “You said you overheard him arguing with a couple. Could the man have been the same one he’d argued with on deck?”