Free Innocent Murderer by Suzanne F. Kingsmill Page A

room door in our bathing suits, down the hall, past two cabins, and out the aft door onto a metal catwalk.
    Somewhere along the way we lost Elizabeth and Tracey, but they must have gone into the showers rather than brave the Arctic wind. And the pool. It looked like something you’d see at a really old zoo. It was very small and completely square, enclosed by a seri – ous looking iron railing that came right down to the edge of the water. You certainly couldn’t swim lengths in this kid-sized pool, unless they were vertical. The water was very deep and very clear. I figured they must have used it to contain wild aquatic animals because it looked like a prison. And it sat half a deck below the top observation deck, which meant that anybody could come and watch us frolic in the icy cold waters, mak – ing fools of ourselves.
    As we skittered down the fire escape type stairs the cold Arctic wind was threatening to beat the pool to the punch. By the time we got down there and draped our towels over the railing I was feeling decidedly less hot and hoped the pool wasn’t as cold as it looked.
    Fat chance. The maniacal scream as Martha made the first leap was not reassuring. There are sauna-induced screams and then there are sauna-induced screams. The higher the pitch the greater the shock, and I think her scream would have broken a wineglass. If I had had any doubts they were all dispelled by Sandy’s high-pitched squeal and Sally’s awful, long, drawn out moan. I knew that I should have gone first. And then it was my turn but I had to fight my way to the jumping off spot as every – one raced to get out. Suddenly I stood alone, everyone chattering around me and draped in nice warm towels, feeling the rosy glow you get after you survive the breath stopping cold.
    â€œGo for it, Cordi,” called Martha. “It’ll fix your stomach for sure.”
    â€œYeah, by killing it outright,” I replied.
    They all yelled their encouragement until finally I leapt. The cold nearly knocked me out, sucking away my breath like a siphon. I came up clawing for the ladder and grabbed something soft and warm instead. I looked up anxiously, wanting to get the hell out of the pool and there was Terry looking down at me, grinning like the cat who ate the canary, still without a stitch of clothing on her body.
    â€œThis is how you’re supposed to do it, ladies.” She stood there for a while as if we were both enjoying a dip in the tropical south and then she suddenly let out an unholy bellow and jumped over my head into the water. I scampered out and Martha draped my towel over my shoulders as I began to shiver. We were all watching Terry as she dog-paddled to the ladder, got out, slipped on her slippers and wrapped her towel around herself.
    Something made me look up at the open deck imme – diately above the pool. Arthur was standing there, the fog swirling around him, making him look indistinct and wraithlike. He was dressed in a down jacket and watch cap, resting his arms on the railing, completely still, staring down at Terry. His face was expressionless, like a man staring at something he couldn’t see. His gaze flitted to me for a split second and then he slowly turned away and disappeared. He didn’t seem to care that I had seen him, which was very disquieting. Peeping Toms are usually secretive.

Chapter Six
    B ack in my cabin I opened the porthole and looked out at a swirl of fog and ragged masses of pack ice. What if we got caught in the ice, I wondered. The pack ice was fragmented — huge hunks of it were drifting about — but the winds could blow the separate floes together to form an impenetrable prison of ice. This was the land of Franklin’s ill-fated expedition in search of the Northwest Passage to the Orient. It wouldn’t be quite like Franklin because we had cell phones and GPS and helicopters and lifeboats, but I shuddered at the thought of the power