Murder Walks the Plank by Carolyn Hart

and blue jeans. She was accustomed to his khaki uniform. Ben Parotti had shed his green blazer. He stood with thumbs hooked onto orange braces, his gnome face glowering. Mavis Cameron bent over the table, her light brown hair falling forward, screening her face. Father Patton had a thoughtful, considering look on his face. His arms were folded across his chest.
    Annie called out, “Billy. Hey, Billy!”
    Billy turned. “Annie.” His voice was tired. “That’s okay, Stuart. Let them in.”
    The teenager stepped back to let Annie and Max enter, firmly closed the door after them.
    Annie hurried across the floor, Max close behind. The boat was running hard and she had to concentrate to keep her balance. As they reached the group, Ben said gruffly, “Going as fast as we can. We dock in about ten minutes.”
    Annie felt a moment of surprise when she looked at the table and saw Emma Clyde seated next to Pamela, holding one hand in a firm grip. Emma glanced up. “Pulse is steady, Annie.” Long ago Emma had been a nurse. And Emma could always be counted upon to take charge, whatever the situation.
    Annie felt shaken when she looked at the limp form. She’d known that Pamela was unconscious, but to see her like this was shocking. Pamela was wrapped in a dark gray blanket. There was not a vestige of color in her skin. The slack muscles made her almost unrecognizable. Her face was as still as marble. The hair plastered against herhead was darkened by the seawater. If she was breathing, it wasn’t apparent. But Emma said her pulse was steady.
    Annie noted the odd little lump beneath the blanket on Pamela’s left shoulder and blinked back tears. She knew Pamela well enough to be sure that she’d been very proud of her costume and was eager to tell everyone about Miss Pinkerton’s beloved canary, Dickie. Annie reached out, gripped Max’s arm.
    â€œShe’s breathing.” Emma was reassuring. “Apparently she hit her head when she fell. They’ll run tests. When the swelling goes down, she’ll very likely regain consciousness.”
    Ben Parotti glared at the still figure. “Don’t make no sense to me. She must’ve been where she had no business to be to fall from the upper deck. If she was behind the railing, there’s no way she could take a tumble, not unless she climbed up and over and jumped.”
    â€œNo.” Annie was emphatic. Some things were possible. Some weren’t. Pamela Potts was not a candidate for suicide. If ever anyone accepted seriously the charge to finish the course, it would be Pamela.
    Ben lowered his head like a terrier ready to snap. “Then, missy, you tell me how it happened.”
    Max used a handful of paper napkins to wipe his face. He gave a couple of swipes at his head. His wet hair stood on end. Water dripped from his slacks. “Wait a minute, Ben. Didn’t anybody see her fall?” He looked at Billy.
    Billy frowned. “Nobody’s come forward yet to say they saw her go over.”
    â€œWe heard someone scream.” Annie looked toward the windows of the saloon. Night pressed against the glass. The outside deck was invisible. Of course Pamela hadn’t fallen from this level.
    Billy kneaded the side of his neck. “By the time I got up there, a bunch of people were hanging over the rail, pointing to her bobbing in the water. Nobody admitted seeing her fall—or jump.”
    â€œShe didn’t jump.” Annie’s retort was swift and decisive.
    â€œWe’ll have to see what an investigation reveals.” Billy’s answer was rather formal.
    Max flapped the damp napkins at her. His blue eyes held a warning.
    Annie understood. Damn. Why had she been so sharp? It wouldn’t help matters to embarrass Billy. Billy was the hero of the night, along with Max. She spread her hand in apology. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to be rude. But I know Pamela.