Free Murder Walks the Plank by Carolyn Hart Page B

Pamela’s cruise ticket.”
    Annie related what she knew, which, of course, wasn’t much.
    Emma tugged on a silver ringlet, pursed her crimson lips. “So, from what Ingrid told you, your impression is that Pamela had no doubt you’d sent the ticket. Pamela is very literal. There must have been a clear link to you.”
    â€œExactly. Besides…” Annie reiterated Pamela’s reverence for order. “So she didn’t jump. She wouldn’t do that. And in the lifeboat…” As Annie described the loose tarp and the scrap of plastic bag, she realized she had a rapt audience. Emma’s sapphire blue eyes glowed. She reminded Annie of Agatha poised to leap, every muscle supple, dangerous to any creature unwise enough to make a sudden movement in her presence, a huntress sure to capture her prey.
    â€œVery good, Annie.” Emma’s raspy voice exuded admiration. “All that from a scrap of plastic bag. Oh, that’s very good. I’ll have to use it someday, the torn piece of trash bag snagged in a lifeboat providing the only telltale trace of premeditated murder.” She clapped her broad hands together, a huge diamond flashing. “Yet the scrap isn’t definitive proof of a crime. Had there been a strand of Pamela’s hair in the lifeboat, that would require the police to rethink their position. Instead, all we have is the remnant of a trash bag…. Sheer brilliance. Nothing to excite the police, only our canny investigator. Therefore Marigold—”
    Annie gritted her teeth. That rapt attention was nothing more than Emma being a writer. The way Emma spoke the name of her septuagenarian sleuth—her voice brimming with blatant arrogance—drove Annie berserk. Annie wanted to shout, “She’s a maddening character, and Emma, SHE ISN’T REAL.” ButAnnie knew without doubt that she’d rather come snout to snout with the alligator in the lagoon behind her house than confront the Grande Dame of the American Mystery.
    Emma flicked Annie an amused glance, her square face almost crinkling into a smile.
    Annie had a horrid sense Emma was reading her mind with the same ease with which she plotted her whodunits.
    Emma folded her arms across her imposing chest. “—must pursue the investigation without assistance. The resolution, of course, demonstrates once again the ineptitude of Detective Inspector Hector Houlihan.” Her canny blue eyes narrowed. “Marigold would perceive at once that Pamela was pushed. Just as you did.” A decisive nod. The springy silver curls quivered.
    Annie exploded. “Emma, I don’t give a damn—” She jolted to a stop. Her eyes widened. “You believe me?”
    â€œOf course.” Emma’s gaze was abstracted. “But I understand why no one else does. Have you ever considered a less likely candidate for attempted murder than Pamela Potts? Yet we can be assured that Pamela was the intended victim because of the ticket. Pamela was not a person to jump to conclusions. Or”—a raspy chuckle—“from a boat. Therefore she had reason to believe the ticket was provided by you. If that was a lie, it was deliberate, and the purpose was to hide the identity of the provider. When the result of Pamela’s presence on the cruise was her near death, it is reasonable to assume—as you have and as Marigold would—that the generous gesture was a mask for murder. All right”—her tone was decisive—“Pamela’s death is planned. Why?” Emma’s eyes glowed. “Oh yes, I like it. Instead of the victim everyone loves to hate, we have a victimno one could possibly wish to kill. What are the classic motives?” She ticked them off, those silver nails flashing. “Passion. Pride. Greed. Hatred. Revenge. Fear. All presuppose an intensity of life that has entirely escaped dear Pamela. She has never had a love