Irregardless of Murder (Miss Prentice Cozy Mysteries) by E. E. Kennedy Page A

of the ferryboat horn. Vern and I looked at one another.
    “We can’t be there yet,” said Vern. “Can we?”
    Just then, the Crew Only door slammed open, and Alec came barreling through, roaring, “Man overboard!” He disappeared out the exit and down the stairs to the lower deck.
    A kind of polite pandemonium broke out as confused passengers shouldered one another in an effort to descend the stairs to their cars.
    “C’mon,” said Vern under his breath. He grabbed my elbow and steered me toward the Crew Only door.
    “But—but—” I sputtered.
    “Shut up, Amelia,” he growled. “This tub could be sinking or something. Can’t you feel it? The engine has stopped.”
    He was right. There was no longer that rhythmic bass thumping that had dominated all other sounds on the ferry. I would have stood longer, testing for vibrations, but Vern yanked my arm.
    “C’mon,” he repeated urgently.
    I obeyed.
    The Crew Only door led out onto the walkway that circled the observation deck. A thick rope, draped across the railing rather like the genteel barricades one finds in banks, was the only indication that we were in a restricted area. Behind us, a ladder bolted to the wall led upward to the tiny bridge.
    For the moment the rain had stopped. I looked around. I could see why Alec had chosen this place as his vantage point. The beautiful, rolling Green Mountains lay dark and impassive in the distance, while the inky waters of Lake Champlain lapped into high, foamy waves in the foreground. It seemed unlikely that the Professor’s chronically shy monster would choose to make an appearance in this busy stretch of water, but if he did, Alec would surely spot him.
    “The life jackets are over here,” said Vern, pointing to a metal chest.
    “Wait,” I called to him. “Look down there.” We had a bird’s eye view of the action on the deck.
    Vern joined me at the railing. “They’ve let down someone with a raft. Look, they’ve got something!”
    A burly crewman was bending over the rail to receive a sodden, greenish-brown bundle, which he carried tenderly to an empty spot among the cars, out of our view. He laid his burden gently on the deck and, as he stood to bark some instruction to someone nearby, I stood on tiptoe to get a better look.
    The crewman stood back and held out his hand to take a wadded piece of cloth, which he shoved into his jacket pocket. It was an insignificant movement, over in two seconds, but my eyes had just enough time to catch a glimpse of a familiar maroon and olive-green pattern. It was my scarf.
    My mind whirled. “Oh dear God! Oh, no! Vern,” I gasped. “That’s Lily!”
    I looked around for the fastest way to the lower deck. The only stairs I could see were crowded with passengers, eager to see what was happening. I looked down again and toyed with the idea of sliding under the railing and taking my chances on the eight-foot jump, when an alternative came to me.
    With Vern close behind, I ducked under the rope and barged shamelessly through the crowd to the top of the tightly-packed staircase. Then I squeezed under the railing and made my descent on the outside, the toes of my high heels making contact with the narrow strip of step that extended beyond the rails.
    It was an outrageous thing to do, of course. Only a month ago, the same stunt performed at the high school had earned one of my students two weeks in detention. It was effective, though. Within seconds, I was on deck, hurrying toward the knot of people that surrounded Lily. Later, Vern told me everyone was shouting at me, but I didn’t hear a thing as I desperately threaded in and out among the cars.
    I was only a few cars away now.
    “That’s Lily Burns, isn’t it?” I asked the white-jacketed young man who barred my way.
    “Don’t know her name.” He held up his hand, palm out. “Stay back, ma’am, and let him work.”
    “Let who work?”
    There was no answer. The crewman’s attention seemed elsewhere, but