The Scent of Death

by Brian K. Lowe

  Someone had been watching Klimpton Monet, some mysterious shadow that frightened him so much that he didn't dare even call in the FBI. He had slipped Kate a note, and why would he do something so desperate unless it had to do with her parents? The secret to their disappearance was in Washington, and here she was literally on the slow boat to China. And what was worse, this boat was only going as far as Japan.

  And then there was her brother. Everybody thought it was just fine for him to drop out of sight, travel all the way across the Pacific alone, traverse half of China, and infiltrate Quanyu, all under another name! But let Kate--his sister--fight off one taxi driver with a gun, and it was, "Get that girl back to California and get her married!" She spoke more languages than Eric, knew more judo and jiu jitsu than Eric, and had visited more countries than Eric, but she couldn't leave the house without three ex-football players hovering over her like grandfathers!

  She watched Damien and T.J. leave the railing and go back inside the salon. Probably cold. Good. She hadn't been able to hear their conversation, but she knew perfectly well they were talking about her. She kicked the railing. It didn't help that she loved them all like brothers.

  And whenever that taunting little voice inside her head snickered: "Like brothers?" she shut it up in a small room in the back of her skull, locked the door, and threw away the key.

  "Looking for whales?" A young man's voice broke in on her thoughts and she jumped involuntarily. "I'm sorry," the young man continued. "I didn't mean to startle you."

  "No, that's quite all right," Kate murmured automatically, though he had done just that. He was in his mid-twenties, of average height, with sandy brown hair under a flat cap that threatened on occasion to leap overboard. Not bad looking. She wasn't seeking a shipboard romance, for certain, but since she wasn't talking to her friends anyway, this might be a pleasant way to pass the time at sea. "Are there whales in these waters?"

  He took the hint and moved closer. "Honestly, I have no idea. Someone told me there might be, but I couldn't say." He looked out over the waves. "Beautiful."

  She could have picked up his line and offered him the chance to fashion it into a compliment, but she had already decided not to walk that road.

  "My name is Dean, August Dean. My friends call me 'Sums.'"

  Kate turned to him with a puzzled look, fully aware that this had been his goal. "'Sums?'"

  He smiled in a way he had probably practiced for years. "Yes, my initials are A.D.D. Sums."

  "Oh." She laughed politely. "Katherine Reinhold," she said, holding out her hand. "My friends call me… Miss Reinhold."

  "Ah, I see. Very pleased to make your acquaintance, Miss Reinhold."

  Kate returned to watching the ocean, scolding herself. She was playing with this man's affections, refusing to allow him to call her by her first name and betraying that she was not married in the same breath. Steady, Kate. You have a job to do.

  "Have you been enjoying the voyage so far?"

  She had to smile at his persistence. "Yes. I always find ocean crossings relaxing. Although I do have to put earplugs in when I go to bed, but then I sleep like a baby."

  Sums started to say something, and stumbled over it. Kate felt the heat rise in her cheeks.

  "Sorry, I didn't mean to embarrass you."

  "Yes, well, I was going inside anyway. I think a late lunch might be in order. Very nice meeting you, Miss Reinhold."

  "And you, Mr. -- Sums."

  The moment he left, Kate realized that she was hungry herself; in fact, the fresh cold air was making her ravenous. But since she had just declined his veiled offer to lunch with him, she could not very well follow him inside and eat. That would be insulting, but on the other hand, belatedly accepting his offer would send entirely the wrong signal.

  Terrific. Now she was cold, alone, and hungry. Damn that Ted Kane anyway!

  After an uncomfortable fifteen-minute wait, Kate decided that propriety had been satisfied and that she could re-enter the salon and eat without offending Sums. In fact, although she looked for him when she was escorted to her table, she did not see him. Of course, he might not be a first-class passenger and so was eating elsewhere, in which case, she thought dryly, she had spent fifteen minutes outside for no reason.

  She saw none of the boys, either, which was slightly surprising, since T.J., at least, had declared his mission to be to consume as much of the ship's stores as he could. Dangling an unlimited menu in front of Professor Death had put more than one roadhouse out of business.

  Although hungry, Kate was hardly in the boys' class. Nevertheless, she did justice to a delicious lunch, coffee, and aperatif (it was early, but she was on an ocean liner) over the course of a relaxing hour. Sated with both food and ocean views, she decided to lie down in her cabin and try to nap. Her sleep of late had been fitful and her dreams incoherent. As she rose, however, she was approached by a purser.

  "Miss Reinhold?" he inquired. "A message arrived for you by wireless, ma'am."

  Kate thanked him, and sat again to open and read the message. Finishing it, she stashed it in her clutch as a small smile creased her lips.

  She unlocked her stateroom, closing the door firmly behind her as she always did. Paolo, the steward, had left the porthole ajar for air, and she was crossing the room, intending to close it when she saw a folded piece of paper on the table, propped up against the vase of flowers that Paolo refreshed every day.

  "Well," she said to herself. "Perhaps someone has come to his senses and wants to offer an apology." She snatched up the paper with an air of superiority and opened it.

  "THIS SHIP STOPS IN JAPAN. IF YOU KNOW WHAT'S GOOD FOR YOU, YOU WILL TOO."

  Chapter Eight

  Attacked by Night

  "You're sure this wasn’t on your table when you left your stateroom this morning?"

  "Yes, Ted, I'm sure. I stopped at that very spot on my way out to smell the flowers. I would have seen if it were already there."

  "It's too early for turn-down service," Ted mused, "but somebody could have asked the steward to deliver it. We'll have to ask him."

  "I can ask him," T.J. offered, but Kate held up a hand.

  "I will ask him. And I will do it privately. I don't want to get him into any trouble. His name is Paolo, and he's helping me with my Italian."

  T.J. snickered. "He's helping you with your Italian?"

  "Stop that! That's how rumors get started; the next thing you know, Paolo's out of a job. And you know what that means these days."

  "It seems unlikely somebody would just ask the steward to deliver a threatening note," Damien said. "Even if he didn't see what it said, it would be too easy to identify the guy later."

  Ted nodded. "I agree with Damien. But ask anyway, Kate. You never know."

  "What about fingerprints?"

  "Whose? Kate's? The steward's? Mine? Besides, I don't keep a fingerprint kit in my luggage."

  T.J. shrugged. "Maybe you should. Beside, I bet Damien could whip something up."

  "Sure I could, but even if we found some prints, what would we compare them to?"

  "Face it, folks," Ted resumed, "anybody could have gotten in there and left a note. These staterooms aren't exactly bank vaults. What we have to ask ourselves is, why?"

  "To scare me, obviously. Which means none of you did it, because you know me too well."

  Damien began to pace, a favorite activity when he was thinking. "Okay, I'll grant you you're right, on both counts. But why is somebody trying to scare you away? Assuming your parents made it to Quanyu, what's there that somebody's trying to hide?"

  "That someone is willing to kill for," Kate reminded him. "They killed Klimpton Monet. They tried to kidnap me, and I don't think they were planning to let me go."

  "Exactly," Damien said, still pacing. "But here on the ship, they settled for trying to scare you, probably because we're at sea. If there were a murder, the captain could keep everyone here indefinitely with no way to leave."

  "W
hich doesn’t mean they still couldn’t try," Ted pointed out. "Kate, you've got to be careful. You should stick with one of us whenever possible from now on."

  The little blonde blinked at him, then suddenly stood up. "You're right, Ted. I'm going straight back to my stateroom, lock the door, and block it with a chair." She held out her hand. "Would you please accompany me?"

  "Uh, of course." The big cop got up and reached to take her hand. Kate seized his arm and twisted, lifting Ted up in the air and landing him flat on his back with a force that seemed to shake the ship. Kate spun about.

  "Either of you boys think you need to walk me back to my cabin?"

  As far south as they were, at this time of year it was already dark when Kate stepped out on deck again. She was not dressed for the cold this time, but seething as she was, she barely noticed. The nerve! If she never spoke to Ted Kane again it would be too soon. How she was going to finish the trip in his company she had no idea. Maybe this was a good time to start practicing her Mandarin. If he could understand that, he could talk to her. Otherwise…

  Chilly as it was, it gave her a perverse pleasure to stand at the rail again and show that she was no weakling. It was too early for the moon, and the waters were dark outside of the illumination cast by the ship's lights. What secrets lay down there, just below the surface, that no one could see?

  A soft footstep scuffed the deck behind her. She ignored it. If one of the boys had followed her to make sure she was all right, she was going to throw a--

  Suddenly strong hands were grabbing her under the shoulders. Somebody was trying to lift her!

  "Ted, this isn't funny!"

  But whoever had seized her wasn't answering; he was trying to lift her over the railing and drop her in the water!

  Kate hooked her feet under the railing, trying to get hold of the man behind her, but she couldn't bring her arms around. She jerked her head forward and back, smacking it into someone's nose with a force that made her brains rattle, but loosened the man's grip only slightly.

  That was enough. Kate twisted and wriggled until she could bring an elbow to bear and slammed it hard into her attacker's rib cage, two, three times, all the while frantically throwing herself back and forth as much as she could without pitching herself over the rail. Belatedly, she began to scream, and her assailant had to let go to try to cover her mouth. She bit him.

  At the same time, she released her hold on the railing and pushed backward with all her might, jerking to her right where he had been forced to let her go. She ducked and kicked and broke free, rolling away from him and gaining her feet in one smooth movement.

  A feral smile stretched her lips. Her opponent crouched in front of her, a hooded rain slicker hiding his face. "Come on, buddy, let's see what you've got."

  For answer, he charged, arms spread to take her up bodily and finish what he had tried to do before. Waiting until the last possible second, Kate stepped to her right, grabbed his left hand, and used his momentum to slam him into the railing. But he straightened as he came, and instead hitting his head, he took the railing right at his waist, flipped straight over, and plunged into the water below, his final scream lost in the wind.

  Chapter Nine

  Murder in the Morning

  Captain Gustavsson called himself a man of the sea, with the full white mustache and the weather-lined face to back up his claim, but he did credit to his ship and his line in his dealings with even land-locked passengers. As a first-class fare and daughter of an ambassador, whose stateroom had been booked by a millionaire railroad magnate, Kate had been invited to sit at his table. She had found him a buoyant storyteller with tales of adventures from countries even she had never visited.

  The Captain Gustavsson who sat in her stateroom and stared so intently at her now was the seaman, not the cruise skipper.

  "According to my first mate, there is no sign of the man who went overboard, Miss Reinhold. And I understand you didn't know him?"

  "No, captain. He was a stranger."

  "This is a terrible tragedy, of course, and I have notified my home office via wireless. I know there will be an inquiry when we anchor in Yokohama. I regret the inconvenience, but you will be required to speak to the local authorities. I don't know how long that might take." He looked around the room, at the unsmiling faces of Ted Kane, Damien Pierrot, and T.J. Gillis. "But I'm afraid I don't understand why you've asked to see me, personally, and in private."

  Kate picked up a folded piece of paper next to her on the table, and handed it to him. "Perhaps this will explain."

  The captain's eyes flicked over the single sentence, twice, then moved back to Kate.

  "I'm sorry, but it doesn't. Did someone give this to you?"

  "It was left on this table earlier today."

  Captain Gustavsson stiffened. "Someone was here? In your cabin? I will be speaking to the purser, you have my word on that."

  "I didn't show it to you to get anyone in trouble, captain. I wanted you to see it so you could understand our situation here."

  The captain took in her companions once more, with a narrowed brow. "And if I may ask, Miss Reinhold, just what is your situation, as you put it?"

  Starting with the mysterious series of murders in Los Angeles several weeks past, and including Eric's "murder," Kate outlined the events that had led to her present journey to see her parents, skirting from the truth only where it concerned Eric's actual fate, and Assistant Undersecretary Monet's note. She finished with a frank account of tonight's events and did not attempt to evade any blame for the fatal outcome. If any of the others had objections to her rendition, they did not utter them.

  "So you see, captain, it appears someone doesn't want me to find my parents. I have no idea why, but it makes me very glad that my friends decided to come along."

  Captain Gustavsson did not answer immediately. "I have heard some fantastic stories in my time, miss, and I have to be frank: If you did not come so highly regarded, I would be inclined to doubt whether it was entirely true." He glanced up at Ted. "Although I have to admit that the fact that you are accompanied by a policeman does help. I would be inclined also to say that I'm glad you have friends with you, but if you'll pardon my saying so, you appear to be a young lady who can take care of herself."

  "Thank you, captain."

  "That all being said, what can I do for you? I can speak to the port authorities in Yokohama, of course, but there's no telling how much they'll listen. It may be that your friend Sergeant Kane will be of more use to you there."

  "I appreciate that, captain, and I will also be wiring the American ambassador. We had hoped to keep a low profile while we were on your ship, despite this--" she indicated the note--"but plainly that is no longer possible. We felt that under the circumstances, you were entitled to a full explanation."

  With heartfelt thanks and handshakes all around, the captain took his leave, promising to have a talk with the Purser about stateroom security before the evening was over. Silence reigned in his absence.

  "Are you doing all right, Kate?" Damien asked at last. "Could you use a glass of water?" He brought her one without waiting for an answer, and she gulped down half of it.

  She stared into the glass. "How do you do it?"

  No one asked what she meant. Ted was the philosopher, and Damien was the deep thinker, but it was the acerbic T.J. who answered.

  "You tell yourself it was necessary, that it was him or you. And you keep telling yourself that every night--for the rest of your life."

  Damien put a hand on Kate's shoulder. "And you remember that it's a good thing that it hurts, because it should."

  Ted was the last to move. "You want me to close the porthole for you?" Kate shook her head. "Don't forget to put something against the door tonight, before you go to bed, just in case."

  But Kate did not go to bed, not for a long time. Her suite came stocked with supplies that were still prohibited in the United States. She helped herself to them, sitting for a long time a
lone with her thoughts and the fragrance of the flowers that were brought to her cabin fresh every day.

  She slept late the next morning and woke slowly, the previous night's events seeping in from her memory. If she had dreamed about it, she did not recall.

  "Well, thank heaven for small favors," she said to herself. She glanced at the clock; Paolo must have been and gone already without disturbing her; he had probably been given very strict instructions. Guiltily, she realized that she had never blocked the door, but perhaps it was just as well, since if he couldn't gain entry the steward would likely have sent for the purser and they would have battered it down. With her earplugs in, she would never have heard them knocking.

  Kate sniffed and nearly sneezed. She hadn't remembered that her flowers were that pungent, but Paolo could have left a new bouquet already... She hoped he had left some breakfast; she needed coffee.

  There was coffee. The pot, the cup, and the serving tray had all been set upon the table, not far from where Paolo's body sprawled on the floor.

  Chapter Ten

  Cold Death

  Swallowing a scream, Kate bent down and made sure there was no pulse. The body was unmarked, but an area rug had been disturbed as though Paolo had tripped or stumbled around the room as he died. Kate carefully stepped back into her bedroom, dressed quickly, and circled around the body on her way out. She made a beeline for the stateroom the boys were sharing.

  Ted stood well back, memorizing the placement of the body and the rumpled rug. T.J. had gone for the purser, but at Ted's suggestion he was not making haste. Damien and Kate, he had ordered to stay in the hall while he, in full cop mode, made as complete an inspection as he could before the ship's officers took charge and contaminated the scene.