The next morning, Myrtle was finishing up lunch with Jack at the ship's largest buffet restaurant. Jack had lots of chicken fingers and Myrtle had indulged in salmon once more. "Oh look," said Myrtle to Jack. "There's Mr. Miles."

Jack peered thoughtfully at Miles as he slowly approached, carrying a plate of food. "Him tired," he said knowledgeably.

"I believe you're right, Jack," said Myrtle with a smile. To Miles she said, "Jack says you look tired. Was it really only seven miles, or did your guide get lost and make it longer?"

"Sadly, it was only seven miles. But it wasn't all flat. Or maybe I'm just completely out of shape. I'm going to be sore tomorrow, no doubt," said Miles, grimacing. He sat down next to Jack. "The bald eagles were beautiful, though. And it was so good to be on dry land." He squinted across the room and suddenly looked alarmed. "Oh no. It's that Violet."

"What? Surely her dreadful book club isn't starting today," said Myrtle.

"It's not as if there are unlimited days on the ship," reminded Miles.

"Have we been spotted?" asked Myrtle.

"I'm afraid so," said Miles. He looked panicky. "I don't think I can handle any fun books today."

Violet was upon them immediately. She said with concern, "Did you forget? The book discussion? It was only earlier this morning that I mentioned it, but with people our age .... "

Myrtle said emphatically, "I'm spending time with my grandson today and I don't think any of you would like to hear fun truck books, which is what you'd get as Jack's contribution."

Miles added hastily, "Myrtle and I checked our schedules and between excursions and helping with Jack, our schedule is completely full."

Violet frowned. "Is it? That's so odd. Red was sure that Myrtle's schedule, in particular, was free of excursions."

"He must have forgotten how busy I was," said Myrtle. "But thanks anyway."

As Violet walked away, Miles started breathing again. "A narrow escape."

"I think Red needs reminding that he's not my social secretary," said Myrtle, eyes narrowed.

"You don't exactly have your gnome collection with you," said Miles.

"I'll have to figure something out." Myrtle's mind was already in overdrive.

Miles pulled the acupressure band off his wrist and handed it to Myrtle. "By the way, do you want this? I don't think Celeste needs it anymore. And, after being on land, I think I've reset myself. I now officially have regained my sea legs. I'd rather not bring up my whole seasickness problem by trying to return the band to one of Celeste's offspring."

Myrtle slid the band into her purse. "If you're sure. I guess you know where to find me if it flares up again. I'm keeping mine on, at any rate. Why mess with success?"

After eating, Myrtle, Miles, and Jack disembarked to walk into Haines. Miles said, "I know your plan was to follow the crew to find Wi-Fi, but surely they'd have gotten off earlier to check their email or whatever."

"Yes, but there are many, many crew members on this ship, Miles. They couldn't all hop off at the first opportunity—there must be shifts of some kind." She squinted in the bright sunshine and then said, "See? There goes several of the crew now. Let's follow them."

Miles sighed. "They're pretty far ahead of us, Myrtle."

"Well, we don't have to catch up. We can merely keep them in our sights. I believe they'll lead us to the Wi-Fi pot of gold. You can't tell me that they don't want to go online. And the ship's Wi-Fi is horrid."

They followed the men alongside the sea and down some side streets. Miles was moving slower than usual. "Are we sure they're going in search of Wi-Fi, Myrtle? Perhaps they're simply out to cash their paychecks at the bank."

"We can't catch up with them to ask. Just have faith, Miles." Although it was a bit more of a walk than Myrtle had reckoned on, it was still fairly short. She'd had in her mind that the crew would disembark and head right to the closest business.

Miles peered anxiously at Jack's short legs. "Are we sure Jack can make it? I'm not sure I can carry him all the way back."

"Oh, pooh. Jack has more energy than you and me and ten other people put together do," said Myrtle. "Just don't you run out of energy. I certainly can't carry you back." She squinted again. "Look! The men have dodged into that wooden structure there. The lovely one with the two-story picture window."

Miles said, "It's the Haines Borough Library, apparently."

Myrtle beamed at him. "Bingo! Wi-Fi, here we come."

The light, airy, and cheerful library had lovely views of the outdoors. Myrtle took a piece of paper with the Wi-Fi instructions from the front desk. Then she got Jack settled first with paper, pencils, and lots of picture books that she helped him pick out.

"Is he going to sit still?" asked Miles doubtfully. "He doesn't even seem fatigued by the walk."

"It was a short walk, Miles! Maybe it just doesn't seem that way for people who've biked seven miles. Jack loves reading. I'd say we're good for thirty minutes."

Miles had no desire to check his messages, preferring instead to peruse magazines. Myrtle carefully followed the Wi-Fi instructions and logged into her email account.

Sloan had written her: Can't wait for you to come back, Miss Myrtle. I gave up transcribing Wanda's notes. I went ahead and decided she was valuable enough to the paper to get her a pay-as-you-go phone, which the Bradley Bugle is paying for. Now she's telling me the horoscopes over the phone and I'm translating them into the King's English for the paper. The only problem now is that her electricity has been turned off for non-payment so she can't charge the phone. I reckon the paper will be paying for her power bill, too.

Myrtle responded to Sloan's email and carefully attached her first article for the Bugle along with what she fondly considered her professional-level pictures.

Myrtle checked the next message and made a face. Erma had also sent her an email. Usually, she sent Erma's emails directly into the trash, but since she was away from home and Erma was her next-door neighbor, Myrtle decided to make an exception this time.

Erma said: I knew that you'd want to be left in the loop while you were out of town. The truth is that I've been suffering terrible, debilitating stomach pains ....

Myrtle grimaced and skimmed until she got to a different section of Erma's too-long epistle.

I've had Dusty around to hang some pictures and replace a window screen for me. I asked him if he wanted to provide you with an update, and he did. I will say that your horrid beast Pasha has been set on a course to terrify your Puddin at every opportunity. Picture attached. I braved my horrific allergies to take this as proof.

Myrtle studied the attached photo. It showed Pasha, fur standing on end, fangs showing, ears back, facing off with Puddin, eyes open wide, snarling. Which looked more ferocious, Myrtle couldn't decide. "Poor, dear Pasha," she muttered to herself. "Being terrorized by the Wicked Puddin."

Dusty, surprisingly, appeared to write better than he spoke. Although he apparently had some sort of aversion to punctuation. His note read:

House fine and yard fine and cat fine and hot here

Miles glanced up from his perusal of The Economist. "Anything interesting?"

"No. Everything is fine and as usual. Pasha is keeping Puddin on her toes."

Miles nodded and continued reading.

Myrtle responded to the emails quickly and then said, "Okay, I guess we need to figure out where we should go from here. I bet the librarians have some ideas of where to take a toddler in Haines."

Miles said, "The library was the perfect activity, although I never would have guessed it. He's been completely absorbed. I bet we could stay here until the ship leaves."

Myrtle shook her head. "First rule of toddler caretaking, Miles: always quit an activity while you're ahead."

The friendly staff suggested that Myrtle and Miles take Jack to the American Bald Eagle Foundation. "They have stuffed animals there, but they also have live birds that are recuperating. Maybe you'll even be there when they feed them," suggested one of the librarians.

Fortunately for Miles, it wasn't too bad of a walk. Jack seemed to enjoy the museum, but the best part was when they came upon a recuperating bald eagle. "Bird!" he said ecstatically.

"It's tremendous," said Miles. "Somehow you don't realize how huge those birds are until you see them up close."

Myrtle nodded, distracted. Eugenia had just walked into the viewing area, wearing a tremendous, old, and clunky camera around her neck and an eager expression. She waved awkwardly when she spotted Myrtle, Miles, and Jack, and hurried over.

"Just look at this beautiful boy," she gasped, fumbling to take the lens cap off the camera. "Isn't he amazing?"

"He certainly is," said Miles fervently.

Eugenia said shyly, "I don't think I really even took the chance to thank you for helping me when I couldn't find Celeste. I felt so panicked and you were both so calm. Thanks for all your help. It almost seems like a bad dream now. Here I am, in front of this gorgeous bird, in this lovely place, and it's hard to believe that something so horrible happened to my poor aunt."

"Very true. Absolutely shocking what happened to Celeste," said Myrtle. "Although, the more of the family I've spoken to, the more a certain ... picture has emerged of your aunt. Sort of another side to her."

Eugenia automatically looked guilty. "I'm afraid we've all had our bad thoughts about poor Aunt Celeste from time to time. I feel just awful about it now. Imagine—all that bad energy that I was directing her way and then for something so dreadful to happen to her. And while she was kind enough to take us on this wonderful adventure in Alaska! It's terribly unfair to her."

Myrtle nodded sympathetically. "It must have been such a shock to you to discover that she was missing. How exactly did you learn that, by the way? Didn't you think that maybe she stepped out for a bite to eat or to watch a show?"

Eugenia shook her head decisively. "No, because Aunt Celeste always believed in routines and schedules. Even traveling, she tried to follow her routines. It kept her organized and clear-headed, she said. After dinner, I helped my aunt get ready for bed. Sometimes she had a hard time getting her arms out of sleeves and that sort of thing. Then I returned to my room for a while to relax. As usual, I returned to my aunt's room last night to give her some medications before she turned in—she was most insistent on receiving them at the same time each day. That's when I discovered that she wasn't in her cabin." Eugenia's eyes welled up with tears and she batted her eyelashes to try to discourage them.

Myrtle said, "And you immediately thought that something must have happened to her. Now I have an important question for you: who do you think was responsible for this?"

Eugenia put her hands up as if defending herself from the onslaught of questions. "I can't believe anyone I know would do something like this to Aunt Celeste. She was so kind to us! This trip!"

Jack was starting to get restless and Myrtle knew it was only a matter of time before she had to move on. She said a bit impatiently, "But surely, with all the time you've spent with your aunt, you've had the opportunity to observe things—conversations or arguments. You might be able to shed some insight here on who might have been irritated or upset with Celeste."

Miles handed Jack his pocket-sized camera in desperation since the three-year-old was gearing up for a potential breakdown. Myrtle gave a small groan. Didn't Miles remember what happened the last time he gave Jack an electronic device? Jack very ably reprogrammed it.

At least Myrtle appeared to have gotten through to Eugenia on some level. She was apparently thoughtfully considering various run-ins between her aunt and other family members. Finally, she said slowly, "This doesn't mean anything at all. It was only an observation of mine."

"Yes?" prompted Myrtle, trying her hardest to keep her patience as Jack now accidentally dropped Miles's camera on the floor and then scrabbled to pick it up, only to drop it again. Miles gave Myrtle a frantic look.

"Bettina. Oh, I hate saying this because Bettina has been very kind to me. A good friend. But Bettina did something very out of character on this trip. Rather spiteful. For some reason, she decided to play a prank on my aunt after bridge yesterday and pour ink from a black pen all over Aunt Celeste's nicest dress—the dress she planned on wearing to the formal night on the ship. It was completely ruined. Aunt Celeste and I had to go to the shops on the ship to find something else for her to wear, which was awful because the shops were so expensive." Eugenia paused and her eyes welled up with tears. "Oh! Aunt Celeste never even had a chance to wear the dress!"

Now Myrtle was all brisk efficiency. She couldn't possibly handle a sobbing suspect and a tired toddler on her own. She tried to bring Eugenia back to critical thinking again, "And you've no idea why Bettina would do such a peculiar and malicious thing? From my own brief dealings with her, she simply doesn't seem like the catty type."

Eugenia, fortunately, got a grip on her emotions and said, "I've no idea. Maybe it was a reaction to something my aunt said or did. But I didn't overhear anything."

There was something in Eugenia's face, though, that made Myrtle think that she knew something. Eugenia was about as easy to read as a picture book. She couldn't look Myrtle in the eyes. Whether it was information about Bettina or something else, Myrtle couldn't say.

"Are you sure you didn't see or hear anything to do with your aunt's murder? Something even that you weren't sure what it meant at the time but are now thinking about it from a different angle?" asked Myrtle.

Again, Eugenia looked away and shook her head so that her hair fell into her face.

Thinking back to her conversation with Bettina, Myrtle said, "Speaking of overhearing things, were you aware of the new will that your aunt had written?"

Eugenia instantly flushed, which told Myrtle in no uncertain terms that she had been aware. She said miserably, "I did overhear that, although I didn't mean to. My aunt was always talking about her will. But this time she did sound as if she meant to change it or had changed it. Yes, I knew."

Jack gave Miles's camera one more drop for good measure and Myrtle said quickly to Eugenia, "Well, I'm sure it all seems like a mess, but we'll work through it. Sorry to distract you from your touring. I should go—my grandson ...."

Eugenia nodded, seeming relieved at being abruptly dismissed. "Of course. I should go, anyway. I've pulled my back somehow and I probably should go lie down or try to stretch."

"Maybe you should try the ship's hot tub," suggested Miles. "It's in the pool area. Maybe it could help to loosen up your muscles."

"Thanks—that's a great suggestion. I may have to try that after I stretch. I'll see you both around." Eugenia moved away.

Myrtle stooped down next to Jack. "Let's take a picture, you and me."

Miles said glumly, "If it even takes pictures anymore. It may now be a rather expensive paperweight."

"Nonsense! Besides, you definitely need to replace this old dinosaur of a camera, worst case scenario," said Myrtle with a sniff.

She gingerly took the camera from Jack, positioned it at the eagle, let Jack look through the viewfinder, and then showed Jack how to snap the photo.

Miles said under his breath, "So it still takes pictures. But can you remove it from his clutches without creating a scene?"

Myrtle gave Miles a supercilious look. "Jack, why don't we go to the gift shop and you can pick out something from your Nana."

"Pure genius," murmured Miles as Myrtle handed him back the camera.

"It's about time you recognized that," said Myrtle.

The gift shop had lots of different items in it. But the only thing that Jack had his eye on was a tremendous snow globe made of solid glass. It had a rather lovely Alaskan landscape in it and a bald eagle featured prominently.

"Bird!" said Jack excitedly. He pointed to the snow globe.

"Is that what you want from your Nana?" asked Myrtle. She peered at the price, squinted, and then said, "Well, you certainly have good taste."

Miles said doubtfully, "Myrtle, don't you think you should ... er ... redirect the young man in question? Something tells me that Red isn't going to be happy having to cart around a seven or eight-pound snow globe in his suitcase and fly it back home."

"Pooh. It's not seven or eight pounds." Myrtle, however, when she experimentally lifted the souvenir, discovered otherwise. "It'll be fine. I'll put it in my own luggage if I need to. Besides, it serves him right. Trying to set me up with a book club at sea. Ridiculous."

"When your bag goes over the limit and you have to pay a surcharge to the airline, you're not going to feel the same way," said Miles. "Why don't you show him these beautiful stuffed bald eagles?"

But Jack would not be dissuaded and Myrtle wasn't too interested in trying. "It's a lovely souvenir of a fun trip," she said as she took it to the cashier.

When they finally returned to the ship, however, Red immediately agreed with Miles. She'd dropped Jack off by Red and Elaine's stateroom and Red took one look at the snow globe and moved their conversation out into the narrow hall so Jack wouldn't overhear them. "Let's head back to your room. What on earth were you thinking, Mama? That thing weighs a ton."

"I'll take it in my bag," said Myrtle as they walked down the hall. "I'm sure I'm under the bag limit for the flight."

"Not just that, but what if he drops it on his foot or something? It would break a bone or two, for sure."

Myrtle, who had sort of envisioned Jack putting the snow globe on a shelf and gazing reverently at it from time to time at a safe distance, frowned. She certainly didn't want Jack to get hurt by it.