The Corpse Without a Country

by Louis Trimble

  I said, “I’m reading it in my office right now. Then if she wants to chase me for it, she can.”

  We went into my cubbyhole. With Jodi breathing softly in my ear, I opened the report and started wading through Tom Harbin’s thoroughness.

  He hadn’t missed a bet, and he used three sentences to describe what three words could have. But I had to admit he was becoming a fine investigator.

  The first report dealt with the fire on Arne’s boat, the Queen. There was a description of the damage, a resume of eye-witness accounts of the fire itself, statements from Arne and each of the crew members and, in summation, Tom’s own tentative conclusions. They boiled down to “accidental.”

  The second report was the same except that the concluding statement had a string of question marks after it.

  The third report was incomplete. It began with a brief summary of the previous fires and then detailed his plan of operation. By this time he had obviously become suspicious. I read, “A thorough investigation of the area around Boundary Island is obviously called for. I plan to make an immediate trip there. I also plan to question each crew member of the Flyer and requesition the crew members of the other boats upon my return.”

  Only he hadn’t yet returned.

  I wondered what could have been the taped message Emily had accidentally destroyed. I also wondered if its destruction had been “accidental.” Somehow, after my trip to the Pad, I didn’t think so.

  I closed the report, snapped off the light, and led Jodi out. She said, “You see, Peter, there’s just nothing there.”

  I said, “There’s this much. By reading the report, Emily could know Tom was going to Boundary Island. She also knew when he intended to go. I think she passed on the information and someone went up and laid for Tom.”

  Jodi nodded a little excitedly. “And you did see Ilona in that area.”

  I said, “And I saw Mike Fenney and you and Reese, too. Of the bunch, I’ll take Reese Fuller.”

  “Peter!”

  I led her into the elevator. “Arne hired Fenney to snoop for him. And Fenney was around the island when Tom got hurt. The next thing, Fenney gets killed. I think he was killed because he saw what happened to Tom, and who did it. I think he saw Reese and later tried to blackmail him.”

  When we were on the street, Jodi said, “Are you sure you aren’t letting your dislike of Reese affect your thinking?”

  I wasn’t sure. I said, “The best way to answer that is to try to find out how close to right I am.”

  We got in her car and started for Arne’s boat works. On the way, I gave her a resume of my talks with the boss and Maslin.

  She said, “Did you tell anyone about the Zwahili money Arne has?”

  “Not yet,” I said.

  She gave me a quick, grateful glance. Then she began to fret about Maslin not having picked up Ilona and Ghatt. The way she went on gave me the idea she was afraid of them on my account. It gave me a warm feeling.

  When we reached the boat yard, we went to the Queen and started in on Arne’s peculiarly filed records. Jodi took time off to fix something to eat in the galley. I worried my way down through piles of apparently unrelated papers, and I was starting to find what I wanted when she came in with sandwiches and coffee.

  She said, “I’ve been thinking, Peter. Why didn’t you tell Mr. Harbin or Maslin about the money in Arne’s desk?”

  I said, “Arne’s my friend, and he’s your father. Those aren’t the best reasons, but they’ll have to do for now. And if you want a really good reason, I just haven’t figured out how Arne is involved.”

  She was quick, “But you think he is?”

  I could only say, “Honey, I’m sorry, but that’s the way it is.”

  Silently, Jodi handed me a sandwich and coffee. I let them sit while I made a pile of papers of what I thought I wanted.

  She said, “You’ve found something?” in a dead tone.

  I put the papers to one side. I began to eat. “I’ve drawn out the records of the movements of all his boats for the past few months.”

  She sat cross-legged on the floor so that her skirt ran up her thighs. I concentrated on my sandwich. She had terrific legs. She said, “What’s the point of that?”

  I said, “I think Reese is up to his neck in the mess somewhere, and I can’t see how he could do anything without Arne’s co-operation.”

  The stricken look on her face made me feel as if I were twisting a knife in her breast. I said, “This is my idea, it could be a wild …” I stopped and started over. “It could be a wild stab in the dark, but I don’t think so.”

  Jodi nibbled the edge of her sandwich. I said, “Let’s assume that Reese was mixed up in the theft of those bank notes. I have to assume that, otherwise his being in London on a Job for the Southeast African government at just the time the theft was made is too coincidental.”

  “Do you mean Reese planned it?”

  “Hell, no,” I said. “Reese hasn’t got that kind of guts. Besides, he doesn’t need to make money that way. But I don’t think he’d turn down a chance to make a pile if it looked safe and easy. Here’s the way I see it. I think that he’s in England on the salvage job and someone comes to him and offers him a deal.”

  Jodi took a sip of black coffee.

  I said, “Here’s a man who has a big job on with a government that is going to pay him in Zwahili pounds. And here are Zwahili pounds being printed by the hundred thousands right in London near where Reese is. Some smart operator, perhaps one of the international boys, jockies the two into position and sees a chance to make a half million dollar killing.”

  Jodi took a far-sized bite from her sandwich. I finished half of mine.

  I said, “The character behind all this is smart enough to know that he can’t just dump two hundred thousand hot pounds on the market right after he steals them, nor even drop all of them at once in any one place. He might also know that uranium has been found in the country and that the pound could go up.”

  I finished my coffee and held out the cup for more. Jodi reached behind herself and got the pot. Her hand trembled a little as she poured. Some of the coffee slopped onto the deck.

  I said, “So this character decides to hold onto the pounds and make arrangements to distribute them from a central source to free money markets all over the world—this distribution to take place in as short a period of time as possible and probably on a given signal.”

  Jodi’s obvious distress made my sandwich tasteless. I set down what was left of it. “This is why Reese was perfect for the setup. He wouldn’t be considered twice if he happened to be caught with some Zwahili pounds. I mean if by any chance his boat had been stopped leaving England and foreign money found on it, his relations with the Southeast Africa government would explain any trouble away.”

  “Not if investigators really checked serial numbers of the bills,” Jodi said.

  I said, “Assuming Reese was in on the deal, that potential close check was a chance he took. But a small one because my guess is that he did his job and sailed away and not much attention was paid to him.”

  “I suppose not,” Jodi said. She stirred. “If you’re right, then Reese brought the two hundred thousand pounds home with him.”

  “That’s it,” I said. “He was a perfect hiding place, a long distance from the location of the robbery; a respectable businessman; and …” I stopped because I was going to turn that knife a little deeper into Jodi.

  I said, “And when the time came to start distributing the notes, who better than Reese would have an opportunity, with all of Arne’s boats at his disposal?”

  Jodi said in a dull voice, “That would mean Arne’s cooperation.”

  “Either that or incredible luck,” I said. “Let’s say Reese had two hundred thousand pounds in these notes and the word came for him to start letting loose of them. Remember that this case is still open. Scotland Yard men, Anglo-Southeast African bank detectives, and probably a lot of private snoopers hoping
for a reward have their noses stuck in every possible hole. The slightest whiff would start them on a trail.”

  I finished the second cup of coffee. “Our smart character couldn’t afford to take that chance. Neither could Reese. In other words he simply couldn’t wait for a crew of smart moneymen from all over to congregate in Puget City so he could deal out handfuls of Zwahili pounds and then send them on their way again.

  “But he could,” I went on, “get the notes aboard fishboats, in the right hands and, knowing where those fishboats would be going, make arrangements for contacts to be made, the money handed over, and the deal completed.”

  Jodi gave me a wan smile. “You’ve built a lot on a little, Peter. And it does sound good. Only how do you explain where Reese’s profit would come from if he did what you said?”

  “I’d assume he was paid in advance or that he’d collect when the notes were taken out of his hands.”

  Jodi said, “You mean Reese hired one of the fishboat crew to carry the notes from here to, let’s say, Alaska. When the boat stopped at Ketchikan, for example, to take on fuel or supplies or let the men blow off a little steam, this crew member would make contact with a stranger who would pay him for the notes. Then the stranger would take them and go to Switzerland or Tangier or Portugal and wait for the right moment, dump his notes, and disappear.”

  I grinned, “You know the free money markets, all right. And that’s about the way I see it.”

  “And then the crewman brings the money back to Reese—?”

  “Gets paid and Reese is richer and in the clear.”

  “Then those boat fires off Boundary Rock aren’t connected with this?”

  I said, “They have to be. They can’t just be coincidence. Not three of them.”

  They had to be, all right, but right then I couldn’t see any logical connection at all. I sat and looked helplesly at Jodi and felt my whole theory crumbling.

  XVI

  JODI SAID, GENTLY, “I’m sorry, Peter, but I’m afraid you’re on the wrong track. I prepared Arne’s boat schedules and they’re all far too flexible for anyone to count on a given boat being in a given place at any certain time.”

  It was a beautiful theory. I hated to see it going to hell.

  Jodi said, “As for the crewmen, most of them have been fishing on shares with Arne since he built his first boat.”

  I said stubbornly, “Tom said in his third report that he was going to recheck the crews. He must have had some reason. Anyway, it isn’t the men who’ve been with Arne for years that I’m interested in. I want to talk to the new men.”

  “You might have a good idea there,” Jodi mused, “but I still think the ones to concentrate on are Ilona and that Mr. Ghatt.” She rose, brushing at the back of her skirt. “After all, you said that she’s from England and he’s from Zwahili and …”

  Her voice climbed with sudden excitement. “Peter, I just know they’re back of the robbery.”

  “That still doesn’t let Reese out,” I said.

  “Then if Reese is mixed up in it, they’re here to check on him because now is the time to make the distribution of the notes.”

  She stopped, her eyes smudged with horror. “But if Reese is in it, then Arne must be too. I … I just can’t believe it of him.”

  I said, “Arne’s hard to swallow, all right, but Reese isn’t. He could have got those lists you made up on the boats’ itineraries. And if the schedules are flexible, he could still use them. All he’d really have to know would be their ports of call.”

  Jodi nodded miserably. I went on, “I’m sure Ilona and Ghatt are in on it, but I can’t make sense out of it yet. If I’m right, and Emily was working for her and spying on our office, then why would Ilona chase me to get a report whose contents she knew about? And why rip my clothes?”

  Jodi said thoughtfully, “Maybe Emily has the answer. Only, where’s Emily?”

  I said, “She’s as good a place to start as any. I’m sure she’ll be easier to catch than Ilona.” I thought about Emily for a while. “We saw her last at the Pad, so that’s where we’ll start looking for her.”

  “But she wouldn’t still be there,” Jodi protested.

  I said, “No, but Willie will be there. And I want a heart-to-heart chat with dear Willie.”

  “Do you think she knows where Emily is, Peter?”

  I looked into those beautiful eyes, wide with worry, and leaned forward, planting a kiss on the tip of her nose. I said, “I think Willie knows one hell of a lot.”

  Jodi wasn’t so sure, but she agreed to go to the Pad. We took time out to go to her house so she could change her clothes. I mixed myself a drink and waited downstairs for her.

  While I waited, I began to have visions of finding the right information and bringing in not only Emily but Ilona and Ghatt and dropping them all in Maslin’s lap. I could picture his expression as I wrapped up everything neatly for him.

  I shuddered, because I had another vision—of Maslin’s expression if I tried this lone wolf trick and loused up. I reached for the telephone.

  The line was open. Instead of a buzzling, I heard Jodi’s voice. “Peter?” I admitted it. She said, “I was just calling Reese’s man to tell him I can’t keep the dinner date I had with Reese, in case he should come home.”

  Her breaking a date for me was the kind of thing I liked to hear, especially when the date was with Reese. I felt set up.

  She said, “I’m through, so go ahead and make your call. I’ll be right down.”

  I put down the phone and lifted it again. I had a clear signal. When I had Maslin on the other end of the line, I said, “Durham here. And I’ve got some ideas.”

  He listened silently to my theory. I gave him everything except Arne’s possible implication. When I finished, he said, “Have you talked to Arne Rasmussen about this?”

  “I can’t find him,” I said. “But I’m going looking for little Emily now. She may know where he is.”

  “Now wait a minute, Durham …”

  I said, “I’m off to the Pad, Maslin. I’m starting with Willie, so if you hear of the joint being wrecked, this time it’s true.”

  “You know what I think of one-man gangs,” he said. “Lay off.”

  I said, “I’ll play it straight, Maslin. And I’ll call you from the Pad.”

  After a little more talking on my part, he finally agreed to let me make a try. I hung up, collected Jodi, and went to the Pad. The place was different, more brightly lighted and with more people. Wandering from table to table was a boy strumming a guitar and singing.

  “That’s Cleve Trinder,” Jodi said. “He’s supposed to be a second Trillian.”

  “That’s his own poetry he’s snuffling?”

  “Naturally.” She put a quiet hand on my arm. No one was looking at us, not even Willie who was perched on a stool behind the bar.

  “Order me a whiskey and water, please, Peter. I’ll be back.”

  I watched her head through the curtains for, I assumed, the community john. I went to the end of the bar and waited while Willie examined me. She finally decided to see what I wanted, climbed from her stool and swaggered to me.

  “Two whiskeys and water,” I said. “And where is little Emily tonight?”

  “Don’t give me trouble, Durham.”

  I said, “The cops didn’t hold me. What does that tell you, Willier?”

  Her eyes narrowed. She tried to smile. She wasn’t pretty when she smiled; she wasn’t pretty when she didn’t smile.

  “Look,” she said, “I’ve almost lost my license twice. I had to tell the cops something to protect myself.”

  “Sure,” I said, “but tell me something else—the truth. Where is Emily? And where is Ridley?”

  “They went out through the alley right after I … er … calmed you down,” she said.

  “Ridley packing Emily?”

  She smiled again. “He’s strong enough.”

  I had felt his fists. I believed her. I said, “That still d
oesn’t answer my question.”

  Willie lit a cigarette by scratching a kitchen match on the tightest part of her jeans. “All I know is that the alley leads down to the waterfront. There are boats down there. Ridley’s a good hand with a boat.”

  I said, “Does he own one?”

  “He did,” she said, “a fishboat he made into a cruiser.”

  I wondered why she was being so free with her information. I wondered what was keeping Jodi. Willie went away and brought the whiskies. I sipped mine and waited for Jodi.

  She wasn’t in the exhibit room. She wasn’t in the john. When I opened the door, there were three people in it, one using each of the facilities. None of them was Jodi. The girl under the shower blew water at me as I hastily backed out.

  That left only the door to the alley that led to the waterfront. That led to Ridley Trillian’s boat.

  I went down the hall and opened the door. The alley was dark. I could smell rotting vegetables heavy on the still air. I stepped down to the slippery floor of the alley, letting the door ride shut behind me. When it clicked closed the last bit of light went away.

  I smelled the rotting vegetables again, but this time closer and more pungent. I had a chance for one deep breath. The rest I don’t remember.

  XVII

  THERE ARE SOME SENSATIONS that once felt are easily identified from that time on. Being aboard a boat in choppy waters is one of those sensations. And it was one I was experiencing as I crawled painfully up out of the garbage-scented darkness someone had knocked me into.

  Wherever I might be, it was not the alley behind the Pad. The smell of rotting vegetables was gone; in its place was the lingering odor of dead fish. And the darkness was more intense than that of the alley. This darkness was as thick as the sealed hold of a fishboat.

  I needed only to feel the choppy motion under me and I knew that I was in the hold of a fishboat. I was going somewhere at about twelve knots. I put my hands beside me and pushed myself to a sitting position. I could feel the roughness of a blanket beneath my fingers.

  Someone had been thoughtful enough not to let me lie on the accumulation of scales and slime that was probably under the blanket. But I didn’t feel like thanking him.