by Alex P. Berg
“He’s not here,” I said. “We’d spot his trolley, if not him. Olaugh. Is there any other way off this ship?”
The big boatswain shook his head. “There’s an attachment for a gangway on the port side, but there’s nothing there at the moment. It would lead right into the Earl. Other than that, the only way off the ship is the way you two tested at sea.”
“And I don’t think Theo’s jumping overboard with a sack of coins twice his own body weight,” I said. “Which means he must’ve stashed the treasure somewhere aboard the ship. Where?”
Olaugh shrugged. “There’s countless choices. The Prodigious is monstrous.”
Shay shook her head. “I don’t know, Daggers. If you’re right about Theo—and I admit you make a convincing argument—then he would’ve known someone, at the very least Vlad, would find Ghorza and the missing cash. His only chance to get away would be to leave the ship before we could organize efforts to stop him.”
“Maybe he didn’t think we’d act so quickly,” I said. “Or perhaps I was wrong, and he didn’t suspect you and me of running with the law.”
“Please,” said Shay. “If he didn’t think we’d act quickly, he’d be here, waiting to disembark. He must’ve known you and I were police officers. Why else would he attack us? He’d have to have some other…reason…”
She trailed off. Her brows knitted together.
“What is it?” I asked.
“You and Verona were both in-game threats,” said Shay. “You were attacked after ending the day winning big hands. But I wasn’t. A threat, that is. Neither was Ignatius. Something else ties the two of us together as targets.”
Steck spoke, possibly because he didn’t want to be forgotten. “Theo was one of the parties with luggage in the hold.”
“Exactly,” said Shay. “Theo must’ve had Ignatius murdered because of what he found, or what Theo feared he’d find there. And me?” Her eyes widened, and she grabbed my arm. “We need to get to the other side of the ship. Now!”
“What?” I said. “Why?”
“Theo didn’t attack me on the deck because of who I was. He attacked me because of where I was.”
I recalled the scrape on the deck and the scrap of cloth in the railing, wedged into the wood between the two… “Lifeboats! He’s taking a lifeboat!”
We rushed off across the deck, me and Shay leading the way, Steck and Olaugh, with Vlad gripped in his meaty hands, in the middle, and the sailors bringing up the rear. Our feet clattered off the wooden planks as we reached the prow and rounded the bridge, then headed back down the port side. Given the sheer size of the Prodigious, it took a minute before we reached the area where Shay had been knocked overboard. I pulled air through my nose in deep draughts, blaming my fight with Vlad for my elevated heart rate.
“There!” Shay pointed. I spotted the scrape on the deck from the evening prior, and next to it, past the ship’s edge, was a gap where one of the lifeboats should’ve been.
I gripped the railing and cast my gaze into the water. Despite the glare of the late afternoon sun off the water, it didn’t take me long to catch sight of my quarry. There, not three hundred feet from the Prodigious’s hull, floated a wide rowboat, and in it, a diminutive gnome. Theo sat at the oars, struggling with their size, and opposite him were two mustard yellow suitcases that seemed somehow familiar. Perhaps I’d noticed them in the hold the night of Lumpty’s murder.
I heard a whump and a whack. Olaugh grunted. I turned to find the big boatswain staggering back, a hand over his stomach. Vlad stood by himself, his hands suddenly free. In one of them I spotted a steely flash.
I acted instinctively, throwing myself in front of Shay. Vlad jumped—but not toward us. He dove onto one of the spare lifeboats. His hand darted to and fro, snicker-snack. A rope whipped up and slapped the railing. Another spun through a pulley, producing a creaky whine, and Vlad dropped from sight.
I recovered quickly, pulling myself to the railing for a view. The lifeboat whose ropes Vlad had cut crashed into the river’s brackish waters with a mighty splash. Vlad himself, clinging to one of the ropes still supported by a pulley near us, flew through the air, the wind billowing his hair. He landed lightly on his feet in the bottom of the rowboat like a seasoned stunt professional from one of the fight scenes in The Pirates of St. Gustifere.
“Hey! Quick! A boat! After him!” I shouted and pointed, incapable of stringing together more than two words at a time.
The sailors were ahead of me, already loosening the restraints on another of the boats. Olaugh jumped to their side, the front of his shirt clean and blood-free. Apparently, Vlad had merely punched him and not used his blade.
Olaugh jumped into the boat. I followed him, then turned toward the ship. “Shay?”
“Go,” she said. “I’ll keep an eye on things from here. Call for help. Organize efforts to track them both down.”
I nodded. Olaugh gave the men an order. The pulleys creaked and the boat dropped.
Out in the ocean, Vlad worked the oars of his boat furiously. Theo wasn’t oblivious to the action. He’d noticed the elf, and presumably us. He, too, cranked on his boat’s oars, but his strength and reach limited him.
We hit the water. Olaugh grabbed the paddles and pulled.
In front of us, Vlad had abandoned his propulsion efforts. He stood in the small rowboat’s prow. The low sunlight glittered off his hand. His arm whipped forward, and the gleam flew.
I couldn’t hear the knife land over the lapping of the water and the steady whistle of the sea breeze, but I heard the scream it elicited from Theo. I stood and squinted, expecting to find the knife protruding from the gnome’s chest, already dreading the interrogations to come wherein I’d try to shed light on the murder of our presumed telepath by the man who minutes ago I’d been sure had been behind the mind control efforts himself.
Theo continued to howl. He hunched over in his boat, and I caught sight of the knife. It protruded from the craft’s lip, pinning the gnome’s hand to the wood.
Vlad sat back down in his boat, and rather than make a break for it, he headed in Theo’s direction at a more leisurely pace.
Olaugh and I caught up to Theo a mere moment after Vlad arrived.
The elven manservant straddled the edge of the two boats, keeping the craft together with his legs. Theo clenched his jaw, muttering though his teeth.
“Son of a…Vlad. You—argh!—piece of…”
Vlad gave Olaugh a nod. “Sorry about the shot to your midsection. I had unfinished business to attend to.”
I glanced at Theo, then the bags that tipped the rowboat’s aft toward the water’s edge, then back at Vlad. “You didn’t run.”
“Or even swim,” he said.
I scowled. That should’ve been my line. “You could’ve, you know. You might’ve even gotten away.”
“And to what end?” said Vlad. “I told you, we’re on the same side. I simply needed to deliver a little personal justice to Theo on behalf of my mistress. Something I didn’t think you and your boys in blue would have the stomach for.”
I snorted. On my side? I doubted that, but for the first time since setting foot on the Prodigious, I’d finally have a chance to find out the good old fashioned way—with a clenched fist and a deep scowl in a poorly lit room on dry land.
41
I emerged from the interrogation room, a sheet of paper rolled up in my right hand. I tapped it on my left palm and chewed my lip a bit before heading back up the precinct stairs into the pit.
I found Shay seated on the corner of her desk, still looking magnificent in her black and pink dress. Steck stood nearby, chatting with her. He hadn’t changed either, but somehow his porter’s uniform seemed more out of place in the station’s depths than did Shay’s cocktail attire.
“There you are,” said Shay. “Thought we’d lost you.”
“Don’t give me that,” I said. “I was able to conduct almost four interrogation
s in the time it took you two to do one. That gives me an eightfold per capita efficiency advantage. Someone should award me a medal.”
“Four?” said Shay. “What are you talking about?”
“While you guys questioned Theo, I took on Ghorza and Vlad, one after the other.”
“And while interrogating them, you forgot the most fundamental elements of math?” said Shay.
“Very funny,” I said. “I finished talking to the pair and came back out here to find you still hadn’t finished with the gnome. But even though you decided to take your time, not everyone on our staff did.”
I handed Shay the sheet.
“What’s this?” she asked.
“Preliminary CSU report,” I said. “Our team found traces of blood on one of Vlad’s knives. They matched it to Ignatius.”
Shay’s lips puckered. “I see. And you took this information back with you for round two?”
“Sure did.”
“What did Ghorza and Vlad have to say about it?”
“Ghorza—who gave me a similar story as Jimmy regarding memory lapses and difficulty concentrating over parts of the voyage—claimed not to know anything about Ignatius, his murder, or the knife used to kill him,” I said. “Of course, she also all but admitted she has no recollection of the events of that first night after arriving in the lounge and tipping back a few cocktails. Vlad similarly told me he had no knowledge of Ignatius. He vehemently denied ever meeting the man, much less killing him. He also claimed Ghorza couldn’t have killed the man because she’d been in his care the entire time.
“Once I came back with the CSU report, Ghorza’s story didn’t change, though I could see doubt creep into her face. Vlad’s story, on the other hand, changed dramatically. He took credit for the murder, saying he’d crept into the luggage hold and murdered the man while Ghorza was indisposed from drink.”
“So Vlad’s the killer, then,” said Steck.
I shook my head. “I doubt it.”
Shay tilted her head. “No?”
“He couldn’t answer basic questions I posed him about Ignatius’s murder and the condition of the hold,” I said. “Besides, he didn’t run when he had the chance.”
“So why would he admit to the murder?” asked Steck.
“Because, despite my initial assumption to the contrary, he cares deeply for Ghorza,” I said. “He’s more than her manservant. I don’t know what, exactly—a lover, a friend, a confidant—but I suspect he admitted to the murder to protect Ghorza. She must’ve snuck out on him that first night, and he didn’t know where she’d gone. Perhaps he’d noticed one of his knives missing. Either way, he knew enough to connect the pieces when I related the CSU data. And he knew if he came forth, she’d be in the clear.”
Shay whistled. “And they say chivalry’s dead. No pun intended.”
“So, how did the chat with Theo go?” I asked.
“Not as good as you might’ve hoped,” said Shay. “I don’t know if it’s the recently stitched up hole in his hand or his incarceration, but he’s become markedly less talkative over the past few hours.”
“So he admitted to nothing,” I said.
“Basically,” said Shay.
“It wasn’t for Detective Steele’s lack of trying, though,” said Steck. “She was like a badger, attacking him with everything she had. I’ve never seen anything like it.”
“Probably because you don’t participate in many homicide interrogations,” I said. “Normally, I play the bad cop role, but Steele’s come a long way. Although I have to take exception to your metaphor. As fierce as they are, badgers are black and white, not black and pink.”
Shay shook her head at the joke, but she still smiled.
“Seriously,” I said, “you didn’t get anything out of him?”
“Not really,” said Shay. “But we have a strong case against him. The motives all fit. He went after Ignatius after the man broke into Theo’s room and after he discovered his custom strongbox luggage in the hold. He targeted you and Verona after both of you proved yourselves to be serious competitors for the winnings. And he went after me when he thought I was aware of his getaway plan. The people he targeted via mind control all fit a certain…racial profile, much as I hate to admit it. Well, except for us, but those telepathy attempts weren’t successful. Less so with me than you, but hey—who’s keeping score? The only thing we’re really missing is proof Theo’s capable of the charges leveled against him, so we’ll need to bring in a forensics mage to administer tests. But if the mage determines he’s a psychic, we’ll be able to convict.”
I frowned. “I guess that’ll have to suffice. I hate it when the victims refuse to talk. Makes the conclusion of the case so much less satisfying.”
Shay shrugged. “So…what do you think is going to happen to Ghorza and Jimmy? And Vlad?”
“Well, the law’s a little slippery when it comes to cases like this,” I said. “If we can prove beyond a reasonable doubt Theo was behind it all, that would mostly exonerate Jimmy and Ghorza. Murder, after all, must be premeditated, and if neither of the two were aware of their actions, they can’t be held responsible, though either one might face lesser charges like manslaughter. There might also be civil suits. And while Vlad would go free, and while I’ll keep my promise not to file assault charges against him, he’s still facing numerous misdemeanor weapons charges for his knives—charges that might be elevated to felony charges given the use of one of those weapons in a murder. So it’s not exactly what I’d call a happy ending.”
A familiar crisp, light-hearted voice rang out. “Daggers! Steele! You’re back.”
I turned to find Rodgers and Quinto approaching.
“And looking snazzier than ever,” added Quinto in his deep rumble.
“Thanks,” I said. “Steele doesn’t look too shabby either.”
“I…” Quinto shook his head. “Never mind.”
“So how’d it go?” asked Rogers. “You catch your conman?”
“Eventually,” said Shay. “After being assaulted, drugged, or close enough, nearly dying of hypothermia, and having two people turn up dead along the way.”
Rodgers and Quinto exchanged glances.
“Okay…” said Quinto. “After a teaser like that, you have to tell us everything.”
“You sure? It’s getting late.” I glanced out the windows bordering the Captain’s office, where only the barest glimmer of light trickled over the edge of the horizon on in.
“Oh, we’re not missing this,” said Rodgers.
The pair gathered chairs and settled in. Before we started, Steck thanked us for our help and excused himself, ostensibly to take care of paperwork, but I couldn’t blame the guy if he headed straight home to bed.
From there, Shay and I regaled Quinto and Rodgers with our adventures. We spared no expense in the telling, except for the portion regarding our sexcapades—although I think our fellow detectives noticed when Shay’s and my stories mysteriously deviated following our rescue from the ocean that night. Eventually, after a fair amount of jaw exercise and two cups of coffee and tea Quinto was kind enough to fetch for Shay and me, we reached the conclusion of our tale.
“Wow,” said Rodgers, leaning back in his chair. “Mind-control? Seriously? And here I thought our case had been the goofy one.”
“Do tell,” I said.
“It’s not anywhere near as interesting as yours,” said Quinto. “A case of mistaken identities. Someone turned up dead, except it turned out not to be them. Instead it was their twin, except no one knew they had a twin, yadda yadda. I think Rodgers and I could’ve found more enjoyment in the investigation if not for the tough sledding we’ve faced with regards to the Captain’s absence.”
Shay glanced at the bulldog’s office which had darkened under the fading will of the sun. “Where is he, anyway?”
“Still stuck in meetings with the police chief and DA,” said Rodgers. “He’s been MIA for days. W
e barely see him, and when we do, it’s to sign a few warrants and mutter apologies. It’s…odd.”
“The absence?” I said.
“No, the apologies,” said Rodgers. “You’d think he’d be angry about the wasted time, but he’s almost the opposite. Resigned.”
I noticed movement at the front of the station. Someone walked in through the broad double doors. “Speak of the devil.”
The bald, stone-faced ex-marine waltzed on in, heading toward his office. He shifted direction once he caught sight of us, coming to a stop in front of our desks. “Steele. Daggers. Good to have you back.”
“Good to be back, sir,” said Shay.
“Rodgers. Quinto.” The Captain gave them a nod, setting his jowls to quivering. “I know it’s late, but could you gather the troops? I have an announcement to make, and I think everyone who’s still here will want to hear it.”
Rodgers and Quinto gave each other curious looks.
“Uh…sure, Captain,” said Rodgers. “Just a sec.”
The pair exited, leaving us momentarily in the Captain’s lone company.
“What’s going on, Captain?” I asked.
“I’ll get to that in a minute,” he said. “First, I want to congratulate you. I heard about the case, and it sounds as if the two of you performed admirably under less than ideal circumstances. I don’t have all the details, but I take it you’ve apprehended the person or persons responsible?”
“We have,” said Shay, “although we’ll need the help of a forensics mage to confirm everything.”
I expected the old man to complain about the cost, but he didn’t. “Certainly. You’ll get it done, I’m sure. Now there’s one other thing I wanted to tell you. Apparently, the owners of the Prodigious are quite pleased with how you handled things. Despite two people being murdered, your swift actions not only kept their deaths quiet but allowed for the conclusion of the tournament. As far as they’re concerned, Miss Skeez won fair and square, and that’s the narrative they’ll present. They expect good business going forward, and as a thanks, they’ve donated a hefty sum to the police department coffers, with the stipulation that a chuck of it be given to the two of you in the way of bonuses.”
