by Blake Pierce
London breathed a sigh of relief. It sounded like the CEO was just busy taking care of everything.
But that still didn’t explain the captain’s apparent perplexity.
A waiter came up to the table, and she ordered her usual favorite breakfast of Eggs Benedict. She kept glancing around, looking not only for Audrey but also for Bryce. She didn’t see either of them.
Then Captain Hays cleared his throat as if preparing to bring up an awkward subject.
“Uh, London … when you spoke to Mr. Lapham yesterday, did he bring up any … well, rather unorthodox theories about recent events?”
“Yes, I suppose you could say that, sir,” London said.
“And did they pertain to … celestial influences?”
London nodded as solemnly as she could manage. She had to stifle a giggle at the idea that it was the CEO’s unusual interests that had bewildered the captain, not some kind of bad news for the tour.
“Yes, he spoke to me of similar matters,” the captain said. “What was your, eh, assessment of his ideas?”
“I honestly don’t know,” London said. “I guess I’ve never really given a lot of thought to astrology.”
“Neither have I,” the captain said. Then he straightened up and continued in his brisk English fashion, “Mustn’t be closed-minded, eh? As far as either one of us knows, there might be something to it. Jeremy Lapham surely must know what he’s doing. He’s been in this business a lot longer than you or me, so he’s got a pretty good idea of what works and what doesn’t. Perhaps we should get our charts done ourselves one of these days, what do you think?”
“Maybe,” London said with a shrug.
The captain leaned across the table toward London.
“But if it’s all right with you,” he added in a confidential tone, “I’d really rather keep the more mystical contents of our conversations with Mr. Lapham to ourselves. People might … well, misunderstand.”
“I agree,” London said.
“Excellent,” Captain Hays said.
Then he pointed to Bob, who appeared to be asleep, and said, “Meanwhile, Mr. Lapham seems content to leave investigative matters to our master sleuth over there.”
Captain Hays shook his head and added, “I wish I could share Mr. Lapham’s confidence in Mr. Turner. I sure hope the police here in Bamberg are better at their work. By the way, it’s lucky we’ve met this morning. Detektiv Erlich called me this morning and said he wanted to meet me in my stateroom. He also wants to speak to you, I believe, and one or two other people. Could you come to my quarters as soon as you finish breakfast?”
“I’ll do that,” London said, hoping her dread didn’t show in her face.
“Jolly good,” the captain said, wiping his lips and setting down his napkin. “Enjoy your breakfast.”
Tossing Sir Reggie another treat, he got up from the table and walked out of the restaurant.
“Reggie, you’re going to get fat if people keep spoiling you,” London said.
Sir Reggie yapped cheerfully as if he considered this an excellent idea.
When London’s breakfast arrived, she savored the cup of rich coffee and the delicious Eggs Benedict. She always enjoyed the taste of eggs with a thick slice of Canadian style bacon, served on an English muffin flavored with rich and buttery Hollandaise sauce. But there was something special about the Eggs Benedict that came out of Bryce’s kitchen.
Maybe it was something about the spices in the recipe—perhaps a substitute for the usual touch of cayenne pepper, or just the right touch of real paprika.
Maybe I should ask Bryce about it sometime.
Or maybe she shouldn’t.
Maybe some mysteries are best left unsolved, she thought as she savored another taste.
Soon she heard a familiar voice speaking over the PA system.
“This is your captain speaking. Would Audrey Bolton kindly come to my stateroom? It’s rather urgent. Thank you.”
London realized she should have expected this announcement. Apparently Detektiv Erlich had just told Captain Hays that one of the “other people” he wanted to talk to was Audrey.
I just hope Audrey shows up, London thought.
Meanwhile, more and more customers were showing up, and many of them looked pretty haggard. Bob was still slouched alone at his table.
When she finished eating, she and Reggie walked over to where Bob was sitting. Because of his sunglasses, London couldn’t tell for sure if he was awake. He certainly didn’t seem to be aware of her presence.
Maybe I should just leave him alone, she thought.
But Sir Reggie apparently had different ideas. The dog barked, and Bob jerked sharply in his chair.
“London!” he said with surprise. “I’m sorry … I didn’t quite catch what you said.”
Sir Reggie barked again.
“Oh, it’s you, eh?” he said to Sir Reggie. “I’m glad to see you, little partner.”
Tossing Sir Reggie yet another treat, he said to the dog, “I hope you’re ready to tackle a new murder case, partner. I’ve got a feeling this new one is going to be a doozy.”
Looking at his watch, Bob said to London, “Have you seen Stanley Tedrow? I was expecting him for breakfast by now.”
“I’m afraid not,” London said.
“He’s probably hard at work on his book,” Bob said. “He’s a sharp guy, that Stanley—a real quick learner. A great listener, too. It’s a good thing he came to me for advice, though. He really had a lot of goofy ideas about criminal investigation. Fortunately I’ve been able to clear him about a few things.”
London couldn’t imagine what sort of tips Bob might be giving Mr. Tedrow.
Bob continued, “Well, maybe it’s just as well that he didn’t show for breakfast. I’ve got a lot of mental work to do today, with a new murder to solve.”
London thought back to those moments when she’d discovered the body. Looking out over the crowd, she’d recognized several passengers and crewmembers. But she hadn’t seen Bob among them. She was sure he hadn’t even been there.
Did he even have any real idea what had happened?
She asked cautiously, “Uh … do you have any theories?”
“Nope,” Bob said. “But these things can’t be rushed.”
London suspected that the police took a less leisurely attitude.
“What kind of investigating do you plan to do?” she asked.
Bob’s lips twitched a little.
“From what I know so far, this is a rather different sort of case than the one I solved back in Salzburg. It’ll make different demands on my crime-solving faculties. Normally I’ve got to get out in the field, interrogate lots of people, scrounge around for physical evidence. But this time …”
Suddenly he couldn’t hold back a yawn.
He said, “I think this case calls for a more cerebral approach. It wouldn’t be wise to go ashore and meander around and get overstimulated with a lot of needless detail. I’ve got to sit still and focus my mind, apply abstract reasoning to the problem, use pure logic and nothing else …”
His voice faded away.
After a moment, his mouth dropped open and he let out a snore.
London tried not to laugh.
Obviously, Bob was too hungover to do any serious investigating today.
And that’s probably just as well, she thought.
His efforts tended to result in some pretty crazy theories that did little except distract from any real investigation others might be doing. It did concern her a little, though, that Mr. Lapham was expecting so much from him. She kind of liked Bob and didn’t want to see him fail at his job.
She just hoped that the police would wrap up this case as soon as possible.
Thinking of the police reminded her that Detektiv Erlich was probably in the captain’s quarters right now waiting to talk to her. She and Sir Reggie left the restaurant and headed back down to the Allegro deck.
The door to the captain’s stateroo
m opened as London and Sir Reggie approached. To London’s surprise, Bryce stepped into the passageway.
“Bryce!” London said.
Before she could ask what he was doing here, he was followed by Detektiv Erlich himself. London again remembered the captain mentioning that Erlich wanted to talk to “one or two other people.”
One of them was obviously Audrey.
I guess the other one was Bryce, London figured.
Erlich said to Bryce, “Thank you for your cooperation, sir. I will be in touch if I have any more questions.”
“Of course,” Bryce said.
As Bryce continued on his way, he and London exchanged sheepish glances. London found herself wondering what Bryce and the detective had discussed.
“Come on inside,” Detektiv Erlich said.
London and Sir Reggie walked into the captain’s stateroom, and Erlich shut the door behind them. The captain sat at his desk looking quite concerned. Although London didn’t quite know why, she suddenly felt a lot more nervous and worried than she’d already been.
CHAPTER TWENTY
When London stepped into Captain Hays’s office, she wasn’t encouraged by the atmosphere. Detektiv Erlich was frowning darkly, and the usually amiable captain also appeared annoyed. London guessed that the captain hadn’t liked some of the questions the detective had asked Bryce just now.
And where was Audrey? Surely she must be one of the people they wanted to question. Had she already come in and answered Detektiv Erlich’s questions and left? Had she been cleared of all suspicion?
London took a seat to wait for whatever was taking place. Sir Reggie crouched on the floor beside her, tucking his head between his paws and looking as uneasy as she felt.
Erlich paced silently in front of her for a moment, thumbing through his notepad.
The captain remained seated at his desk and spoke first.
“Detektiv Erlich, you seem to be quite convinced that Herr Forstmann’s death was a murder, and neither an accident nor a prank gone wrong. But so far, you’ve said nothing to convince me of that fact. Since you insist on questioning my staff and keeping my ship from leaving Bamberg, I think you owe me more of an explanation.”
The edges of Erlich’s lips turned into a slight smile.
“You are correct, Captain,” he said. “I am glad you asked.”
He took out his cell phone and brought up an image and showed it to the captain, and then to London.
He explained, “This is a forensic drawing made by the gerichtsmediziner—our medical examiner—of the wound to Herr Forstmann’s head. This is the wound he apparently suffered before he was submerged. You can see that the indentation has a distinctive shape. It was made by a hard, cylindrical object. There is nothing at the crime scene that could have made this precise wound, much less accidentally. The injury definitely came from a deliberate blow.”
Erlich seemed to take particular care to give London a close look at the drawing, which was very detailed, including measurements.
He asked her, “Do you have any idea what this object might have been?”
London could tell by his tone of voice that he was gauging her reaction. If she was guilty, he surely thought, she might respond with alarm to the sight of this drawing. Of course, the image meant nothing to her. She could only guess that it was caused by a smooth hard, rounded object—a metal pipe, maybe.
“I have no idea what caused the injury,” she said, quite truthfully.
Apparently pleased by her answer, the captain let out a grunt of approval.
It’s a good thing he’s here, London thought. She realized she wouldn’t like to be questioned like this without an authority figure from the ship also present.
Finally Erlich stopped pacing and looked at her sternly.
“Fräulein Rose, I want to clarify a few things you said yesterday and get more details.”
“Of course,” London said, gulping hard.
Erlich tapped his pencil against his notepad.
“You told me you’d gone up onto the stage after finding Herr Forstmann’s monocle.”
London replayed the moment in her mind.
She said, “Actually, my dog ducked under the curtain, and I followed him to see what interested him.”
“You didn’t mention earlier that you’d been following your dog,” Erlich said.
London’s eyes widened.
“Does it matter?” she asked.
“Everything matters,” Erlich said.
London was shocked by the suspicion in his voice. He seemed to be looking for even the smallest inconsistencies in her account.
Erlich then said, “And after you went onto the stage, you climbed up onto platform above the vat.”
“That’s right.”
“Why did you do that?”
London’s head swam for a moment as she tried to remember. She glanced down at Sir Reggie and remembered the dog sniffing around on the stage floor. Then it came back to her.
“I saw beer splashed on the floor. I wondered how it got there.”
“And you thought maybe someone was in the vat?”
“I didn’t know what to think. I … guess I went up onto the platform to find out.”
Erlich looked at her as if he didn’t quite believe her. Indeed, London half-wondered whether she was telling the exact truth.
What was I thinking right then? she wondered.
She couldn’t really remember thinking anything at all. To the best of her memory, she’d simply acted on reflex.
Jotting down notes, Erlich said, “And you only saw the body when the curtain opened and the lights came up?”
“Yes.”
Erlich paused and scratched his chin.
“I’ve talked to a fair number of witnesses,” he said. “None of them remembers hearing you call for help at that moment.”
London felt a tingle of rising anxiety.
“Well, I don’t believe I did call for help,” she said.
“No?” Erlich said.
“No, I just jumped into the vat myself to see if I could help him.”
Erlich gazed at her skeptically for a moment. London was starting to feel unnerved now.
Captain Hays growled with disapproval.
“Now see here,” the captain said to Erlich. “I can’t imagine why it should concern you whether she called for help or not. Why would she? A whole crowd was watching. They could see there was trouble. London’s first instinct was to jump in herself and see what she could do. Can anybody fault her for that?”
Erlich turned his gaze on the captain.
“I didn’t say I faulted her for anything. But I would like to hear her answer to my question.”
He looked at London again, waiting for an answer. The truth was, London was sure the captain had just explained the matter as well as she could. But she knew it wouldn’t do to repeat his words.
“I don’t know why I didn’t call for help,” she said. “I just didn’t think of it at the time.”
Erlich nodded, then paced a bit more before speaking again.
“I have talked with your colleague, Bryce Yeaton,” he said. “It appears that you were with him shortly before the incident.”
London felt her heart quicken as she remembered the sheepish look she and Bryce had exchanged just before she’d come into the stateroom. Now she realized the situation was even more fraught than she’d feared. Her own answers had to be consistent with whatever Bryce had just told Erlich.
She tried to convince herself that that shouldn’t be a problem. Bryce had surely just told Erlich the truth. All London had to do was do the same.
So why do I feel so flustered? she wondered.
She couldn’t help feeling as though Detektiv Erlich was deliberately trying to catch her off guard. And she couldn’t be sure how much Bryce had told them or exactly how he had described everything.
Erlich asked, “Could you tell us exactly what you were doing just before you found the monocle?”
“I was wandering through the crowd looking around for passengers and crew members,” London said. “It was getting toward time for our departure, and everybody needed to return to the boat.”
“Where was Herr Yeaton at the time?”
“He was doing the same thing elsewhere.”
“And what were the two of you doing before that? Before you started searching for passengers and crew?”
“Um, Bryce and I took a little walk.”
“Where did you go?”
“To the Schönleinsplatz.”
“Why did you go there?”
“We just wanted to get away from the festivities for a little while,” she said.
“And what did you do at the Schönleinsplatz?”
London felt her face redden with both embarrassment and irritation.
Why on earth does that matter? she wondered.
London sensed more and more that Erlich was trying to throw her off balance by asking some questions that were surely irrelevant to his investigation. Doubtless he had asked Bryce the same question. But how had Bryce answered it? Had he told him about their would-be romantic moment?
She didn’t know, and she cringed at the idea of saying anything about it in front of the captain. But she thought that the safest thing was to be as forthright as possible.
Her jaw tightened as she said, “If you must know, we almost kissed.”
She glanced warily over at the captain. She thought he looked even more irritated, but couldn’t tell whether he was annoyed with her or with Detektiv Erlich.
London added, “But we were interrupted by a phone call.”
“A phone call from whom?”
“The ship’s concierge. She told us it was time for us to start rounding up passengers.”
Erlich thumbed through his notes again, then looked at the captain.
“Audrey Bolton hasn’t responded to your call,” he said.
“No, sir. She has not,” the captain said.
