Free Ransom at Sea by Fred Hunter Page B

begun this wistfully, then broke off. After a moment, she continued. “It would be a nice place to come with someone for a weekend.”
    â€œI quite agree.”
    By the time they’d reached the end of Main Street, it was nearly six o’clock, so they headed down River Street and into the paved alley that served as the entrance for the Red Lion Pub.
    After passing through the heavy, dark wooden door they found themselves in a well-lit room with a small fireplace at its center. The entire wall directly across from the front door was the bar, shaped like an inverted J . In front of it was a row of stools with wooden seats and backs, each of which was occupied.
    The wall behind the bar was lined with glass shelves that ran almost all the way up to the ceiling. These held an array of bottles in all shapes and sizes. A small slate at a break in the center of the shelves boasted in blue chalk a selection of one hundred brands of imported beer.
    A fresh-faced young woman was working behind the bar. She had a ready smile and sparkling eyes, and dark, wavy neck-length hair. She was wearing a crisp white shirt and leather vest. Emily wondered with an inward smile if the woman’s name might be Colleen.
    â€œHello, Lynn,” Rebecca said.
    Lynn and Emily had been so taken by the environs and the general noise and bustle that they hadn’t noticed the long, high-backed bench just to the right of the door. Rebecca and her aunt were seated there. Rebecca stood up as she greeted them.
    â€œHi,” Lynn replied. “I’m sorry, I didn’t see you.”
    â€œIt’s a beautiful place, isn’t it?”
    â€œIt looks like a proper British pub, only in the wrong country.”
    â€œGood evening, Ms. Charters,” Rebecca said.
    â€œGood evening. And please, call me Emily.”
    â€œWhen are we going to eat?” Marcella asked peremptorily.
    â€œIn just a few minutes,” Rebecca replied. She turned back to Emily and Lynn. “When we got here I told the host we’d need a table for four. He said it would be about twenty minutes. That was ten minutes ago.”
    â€œAh,” said Emily.
    â€œWhy don’t we sit down?” Lynn suggested as she guided Emily over to a place on the bench next to Marcella. Rebecca and Lynn sat beside their respective charges.
    â€œI’m hungry!” Marcella said.
    â€œIt will only be a few more minutes,” Emily said soothingly as she gave a gentle pat to Marcella’s hand.
    There were booths along the wall to the left of the door, and about twenty tables arranged around the room in a way that looked very haphazard, but given the dexterity with which the staff was navigating the room, Emily thought there might be a design at work that simply escaped her. All of the tables and booths were occupied by parties of various numbers, boisterously drinking and dining.
    After Emily had surveyed the room for some time, something caught her attention.
    â€œNow, there’s something that surprises me,” she said to Lynn, keeping her voice rather low.
    â€œI don’t believe anything surprises you,” said Lynn. “What are you looking at?”
    â€œAt the table for two, all the way at the back of the room by the kitchen.”
    Lynn looked toward the back and emitted a “hmm.” At the table, facing front, was Claudia Trenton, eating with mechanical intensity and occasionally stopping to say a word or two to her companion. The surprise was that her companion, whose back was toward the women, wore the unmistakable clothing of Bertram Driscoll.
    â€œI would say that was a very unlikely couple,” said Emily.
    â€œI’ve always heard that shipboard romances could be very odd,” said Lynn with a grin.
    â€œIt doesn’t quite look like a romance.”
    Lynn observed them for a moment. “No, it doesn’t.”
    The corners of Claudia’s mouth were turned down in something nearing a