Steele-Faced (Daggers & Steele Book 6)

by Alex P. Berg

  I waved him over. “Steck. We need to have a pow-wow.”

  “What is it?” he asked. “Do you have some idea who did it?”

  “Yeah, didn’t you see the note the killer left tacked to the back of the stiff? Of course not, man. Get your head in the game. What we need to do is figure out a game plan.”

  “Why are you asking me, then?” said Steck. “You’re the homicide detectives.”

  “Yes, but this isn’t a normal case,” I said. “We’re undercover on a fraud investigation that hasn’t even started yet, and already somebody tangentially related to said investigation has turned up dead. We’re cut off from the rest of our support teams, and we’re in international waters, which makes jurisdiction tricky. So the question is, how do we approach this?”

  Steck sighed. “Guys, I’m not going to lie. Having this case slip through my fingers before it even starts is going to haunt me for the rest of my career, but we don’t have a choice. A murder trumps a potential fraud any day of the week. The homicide investigation has to take precedent.”

  “Agreed,” said Shay, “but that doesn’t mean we should abandon our mission.”

  I thought I knew where she was going, but I made her say it nonetheless. “Go on.”

  “Given the rumors about something fishy going down during the poker tournament and the fact that Lumpty here—Daggers’ designation, not mine—was in the employ of one of our three prime suspects, I’d say there’s about a ninety-nine percent chance his murder is related to the tourney and was perpetrated by one of the players. Because of our limited jurisdiction, we stand a better chance of figuring out who killed him by staying undercover than we do by blowing it.”

  I nodded. “I’m with Steele. This puts more pressure on our shoulders, but the mission is still the same. We’re just going to have to unravel a murder while we sort out what we came here to do. And that means more work for you, too, Steck. We don’t have additional detectives or a coroner or a CSU team, and because Steele and I have to remain undercover, you need to be our eyes and ears. You’ll need to do the legwork.”

  “For what it’s worth, we stand ready and willing to help,” said Olaugh.

  “And we appreciate it,” I said. “You can start by giving us a full list of every passenger with luggage in this compartment. Maybe that way we can figure out what Lumpty was doing here. Steck—I’m going to need you to interview all the bartenders and waitstaff from the mixer. Steele and I know when Lumpty left the party, but we don’t know precisely where the other potential suspects were and at what times. Hopefully some eye witness accounts can narrow down the suspect pool for us. And see if you can find any other crew that might’ve seen what happened down here.”

  Steck nodded.

  “I’ll make sure the staff comply,” said Olaugh. “And I’ll make sure they meet with Steck one on one. As far as they’ll know, he’s a compliance inspector, making sure people are doing their jobs.”

  “Good thinking,” I said. “Olaugh. I’ll need you and Steck to move the body to a safe, secure location out of sight from prying eyes. And someone’s going to need to clean this place up. I’m guessing you, James, due to the muzzle we’re keeping on the operation. Given what we know, that’s about all we can do at this juncture, unless you know more about mortuary science than you appear to, Steck.”

  The vice cop adopted a horrified expression. “You’re kidding, right?”

  Shay nodded. “It’s what he does.”

  “Just because somebody died doesn’t mean we need to get sober,” I said. “Although finding a dead body does have a way of taking the edge off a buzz. Regardless, we all need to keep a clear head from here on out. Stay in touch, stay vigilant, but keep your lips sealed. If word of this spreads, it could create a panic, never mind sending our killer into hiding.”

  “And it would create unnecessary negative publicity for the Prodigious,” said Olaugh.

  I wasn’t particularly worried about that part, but I let Olaugh think I cared. As the ship’s security officer, I’d need his help if I had any chance of solving the murder and Steck’s fraud case, both.

  12

  After checking ourselves carefully to make sure neither of us sported any blood stains, and after returning my dinner jacket, Shay and I headed back up to the mixer, but by the time we arrived, things had largely died down. All our fellow competitors had exited the lounge, and the few we hadn’t met didn’t rush from the shadows to make our acquaintance.

  Luckily, the waitstaff still lurked and were more than happy to unload their uneaten appetizers on me. I made up for my lack of a formal dinner with fifteen or twenty bite-sized morsels, all the while wishing I could round up everyone in the room and put their feet to the fire, but I’d simply have to wait and let Steck to the heavy lifting.

  More drinks tempted me, but I followed Shay’s advice and abstained. Apparently, the powers who ruled over the Prodigious’s gaming enterprises determined eight o’clock sharp would be a good time to start a poker tournament despite teasing everyone with free beverages the night prior. With that in mind, Shay suggested we turn in early. I escorted her down to our suite, but as we walked, it wasn’t thoughts of sleep that milled about my brain.

  The murder of Johann’s bodyguard had momentarily hijacked my thoughts. I kept revisiting the evidence in my mind’s eye, but at the same time I hadn’t forgotten my evening with Shay. The sultry, playful looks she’d given me at the mixer. The feeling of our bodies pressed against one another on the ballroom floor as music flowed through us and sweat slicked our skin. The coolness of the winter breeze and the warmth of Shay’s touch as we stood shoulder to shoulder on the Prodigious’s deck.

  I doubted Shay’s and my compatibility more often than I cared to admit. Not because of any serious incompatibility on our parts. Sure, there was an age difference between us, as well a difference in maturity, with Shay being the far more responsible and sensible of our pair. And we had different tastes in music and literature and art and even basic aesthetics, so it was only natural for me to wonder, even discounting the fact that I tended to overthink aspects of every relationship I’d ever been in—either that or underthink them, as my ex, Nicole, might argue. But we also shared moments that made it obvious whatever doubts I had about us were largely unfounded. Our locking of lips a few days prior was one. The smile Shay had given me on the dance floor this evening was another. Both of those had burned into my long term memory. I’d never forget them, and I’d never ignore what they implied about Shay’s feelings for me.

  With that knowledge firmly in mind, I still had no idea how to proceed as I turned the key to our room and opened the door.

  Shay glided into the living room, trailing her hand against the wainscoting as she moved. Despite the vigorous dancing, the brisk sea breeze that had tousled her hair, and the trek into the ship’s depths to discover a dead man, she looked as beautiful as ever. Her dress dipped low on her back, teasing me as it hugged her in all the right places. She paused at the door to her bedroom.

  I followed her in and glanced at the clock. Ten-thirty, or close enough not to make a difference. “So…what time do you think we should rise in the morning?”

  Shay shrugged. “Six-thirty or thereabouts, if we wish to eat and look presentable.”

  If. The eating I was fond of. The presentation less so.

  I took a step toward the far wall and peered into my bedroom. I’d taken the quarters on the left and Shay those on the right. My bag sat on the bed where Steck had left it—one of them anyway. My garment bag still lay on the floor of the living room by the coffee table.

  Perhaps in response to my motion, Steele spoke. “Daggers?”

  I looked up. “Yes?”

  Shay hadn’t moved from the frame of her door. She’d averted her eyes to the floor and drawn her hair over her right shoulder, exposing the full of her neck. She did that thing with her lips again, where she sucked on her bottom one before letting it out.r />
  “I…” She lifted her head, drawing her gaze slowly across the floor, past the coffee table and the garment bag. She paused and blinked.

  My heart thumped heavy in my chest. “Yes?”

  “I…think someone’s been in our room.”

  It wasn’t what I’d hoped to hear, but I knew better than to doubt her observational prowess. “How do you know?”

  “Your garment bag. It’s been moved.”

  Instinct took over. I reached for Daisy, despite her absence, before darting into my bedroom to check for intruders. With that completed, I rushed to Shay’s room to do the same. Once I’d satisfied myself in regards to our safety, I returned to the living room.

  “Check your things,” I told Shay. “See if anything’s missing.”

  I opened my garment bag. I’d placed my suit back into it following my change. The jacket, slacks, shoes, leather belt, and thin tie were all there, even the cufflinks, though I couldn’t tell if anything had been moved—mostly because I hadn’t paid attention as I stuffed it in. I was, however, glad I’d left my badge back at the precinct on Steck’s insistence. If someone had gone through my things, my identity would’ve been revealed.

  “I don’t suppose it was Steck who dropped by,” called Shay as I moved back to my bedroom.

  “Don’t you think he would’ve mentioned it if he had?” I said. “Besides, he doesn’t have a key to our room.”

  I went through the second bag on my bed, and while I couldn’t remember every last piece of peacockery Steck had made me bring along, neither could I spot anything blatantly missing or out of place.

  When done with my search, I zipped the bag up and crossed over to the suite’s exit. I snapped the deadbolt into place, put the additional safety bar in, and headed back to the living room.

  Shay stood there having finished her own inspection, hands clasped before her. “I didn’t find anything missing. You?”

  I shook my head.

  “Thoughts?” said Shay.

  “I don’t know,” I said. “I’d be comfortable wagering it was one of our fellow poker competitors or their underlings who broke in, but beyond that? I suppose it could’ve been Lumpty, but the timing might’ve been difficult. What do you think?”

  “What I think is we’re not the only ones expecting hijinks,” said Steele. “I’d bet several of our competitors heard the same rumors Steck did. They’re looking for evidence that’ll reveal who’s going to pull the con, and I’d wager Lumpty found it. Either that, or he got a little too close for comfort.”

  “Yeah,” I said. “But what did he find?”

  Shay shrugged. “Think we’ll be safe here tonight?”

  “I locked the door and put the latch bar in, but I’ll tuck a chair under the doorknob just in case.”

  Shay nodded and glanced at the clock. “We should probably hit the hay. We’ll have an early morning.”

  “Yeah. We should. There’ll be plenty of time to mull over this tomorrow.”

  Shay turned toward her room, but she paused at the edge. “Daggers?”

  “Yes?”

  She glanced at me and shot me a shy smile. “I had a nice time tonight.”

  I smiled back. “So did I. Although I could’ve done without the murder and the breaking and entering.”

  “Likewise. Goodnight.”

  “Goodnight.”

  Shay stepped into her room and closed the door, and I retreated to my own quarters. I stripped my shoes and coat off and lay on my bed face up. The mattress welcomed me with arms of purest down, far more comfortable than my own slab of concrete at home. Nonetheless, I suspected I’d have a hard time sleeping. I had far too much on my mind.

  Very little of it had anything to do with police work.

  13

  I stifled a yawn as Shay and I stood at the entrance to the restaurant on the promenade deck, waiting for the host to return.

  “You going to make it there, princess?” Shay, wearing a svelte burgundy cocktail dress that ended at her knees, smirked at me.

  “Waking up this early should be criminal,” I said. “At the very least, I suspect it’s unhealthy.”

  “That goes against conventional wisdom.”

  “Yeah, well conventional wisdom also says bloodletting prevents disease and that regular applications of mercury ointments cures syphilis.”

  “Point taken,” said Shay. “But it’s not as if we had much choice.”

  “No kidding. This outfit took forever to get into.” I gestured at my getup, a deep navy suit with a faint tartan design. It hadn’t actually been that time consuming to don, but combined with a shower and a shave, the process had necessitated an early start.

  “Now you know my pain,” said Shay.

  “What are you talking about?” I said. “As if you wear evening gowns and put your hair in an updo on a regular basis.”

  “I put a fair bit more effort into my appearance than you do.”

  “Something I thought you enjoyed,” I said.

  “To an extent,” said Shay. “What I don’t like is the expectation that I always be so presentable.”

  I stroked my chin. “Have I given you that idea? Honestly, if you want to get a little slovenly every now and then, it won’t bother me in the least.”

  “I didn’t mean you personally,” said Shay. “It’s more a cultural thing. Don’t worry about it. It’s one of the many societal injustices I hope to one day overturn.”

  The host returned, a clean-cut gentleman of early middle age. “Apologies, sir. Madam. A table for two?”

  “Something in a corner if you can,” I said. “My lady and I have private matters to discuss.”

  The host nodded and waved for us to follow. As he led us through a dining room full of the clatter of knives and forks, spirited chatter, and the clacking of teeth, I noticed a few familiar faces. Verona sat at the bar by herself, enjoying what appeared to be a liquid breakfast and ignoring the ill effects it might have on her later. Ghorza lounged in a chair at a centrally-located table looking decidedly worse for wear. She moved sluggishly and wore a feathered hat and shaded glasses to guard against the early morning glare. Of Jimmy, I saw not a trace. Neither did I spot Johann and his men. I wondered if he’d figured out what had happened to Lumpty, and if so, how he’d react.

  I did spot Theo, however, in the far corner. He shared a table with a surly looking dwarf wearing a smooth brown vest over a crisp orange dress shirt with the sleeves pushed up to his elbows. A golden chain, the tail of a pocket watch, hung from his breast pocket to his belt. A large scar trailed from his eye to his chin, obvious even underneath the thick shock of his beard.

  I elbowed Shay softly. “Orrin?”

  “Can’t imagine there are too many other scarred dwarves in first class,” said Steele. “Especially those who would suffer Theo’s company.”

  Suffer was right. Orrin didn’t seem to be enjoying the gnome’s chatty nature, as I’m sure Theo was well aware. Apparently he hadn’t lied when he said he liked to bombard his opponents with verbal horse droppings.

  “Sir. Madam. Your table.” The host pulled out a chair for Shay.

  We thanked him and seated ourselves. Within seconds, a pert waitress arrived to take drink orders. I gave her instructions to bring coffee and tea, as well as an assortment of eggs, cured meats, fruit, and biscuits. I knew better than to think her prompt arrival would be a harbinger of her ongoing attentiveness, and we had time constraints to keep abreast of.

  I eyed our competitors casually, but none seemed to have their eyes trained in our direction. I turned to Shay. “I don’t suppose you can overhear any of their conversations.”

  “In this din?” she said. “Not a chance.”

  “Good,” I said. “Your hearing’s better than mine, and I figured if you couldn’t hear any of them, it was probably safe to talk.”

  “What about?”

  “The possibility of us sharing a dining room
with a killer.”

  Shay smiled. “Oh, so just your regular light breakfast conversation, then.”

  “For us, anyway.”

  “And you don’t think we should wait for Steck to bring us his additional input?” said Shay. “Like the testimony of the bartenders, waiters, and waitresses from last night’s mixer?”

  “You know I’m not a thumb twiddler,” I said. “I theorize regardless of how little evidence I have. But given our and everyone else’s presence at the mixer last night, I think we can narrow the field a bit even without their eyewitness accounts.”

  “Disagreed.”

  “Oh really?” I said. “And how do you figure that?”

  “We left our room for the mixer at seven, which means we arrived about ten after. We spent maybe an hour there, but Johann and his men left roughly twenty minutes before we did, putting their departure at a quarter to eight. We then moved to the ballroom and danced. Total time elapsed, half an hour. Then we moved to the ship’s exterior and spent approximately another twenty minutes there before James found us. That gives us an hour and ten minutes from Lumpty’s departure to the point at which we found him dead. We were isolated from everyone else for the latter fifty minutes of that—plenty of time for anyone, including those we left at the mixer, to follow Lumpty to the luggage compartment and murder him.”

  I lifted an eyebrow. “Where were you hiding a watch last night? That dress didn’t leave a lot to the imagination.”

  Shay blushed, but only slightly. “I have a good internal clock.”

  “Okay. I trust you,” I said. “Sounds about right to my own estimations, anyway. But if you’re right, that means we can’t narrow our pool of suspects at all.”

  “We can’t. Steck can. Give him time. He’ll come through.”

  “I hate it when you bat my arguments down with sound logic,” I said. “But if we can’t do anything until Steck interviews the staff, what am I supposed to do to occupy my overactive thinking cap?”