Satisfied, and knowing time was short, Ted tiptoed forward with an unexpected grace. As Kate had told him, there were no obvious no wounds, nor was there any blood. He glanced around, frowned, and backed away. At this point in an investigation, he would normally have awaited the coroner to inspect the body. The ship's doctor would have to do.
Unlike the case of the man who had fallen overboard the night before, the death of Paolo Andreotti was easily covered over with official gloss. In the end, as far as the rest of the passengers and most of the crew were concerned, Andreotti had died of natural causes. Once the ship's physician had verified that he was dead, the body was wrapped up and discreetly transported to the most remote refrigerated compartment on the ship to await further disposition. So ended Paolo Andreotti's participation in the potentially cataclysmic events that were unfolding daily on the blissfully ignorant Queen of Spain. Others' involvement was far from over.
"I regret the inconvenience, Miss Reinhold, but under the circumstances I see no alternative but to insist that you remain in your stateroom for the rest of the voyage."
Kate prided herself on her composure, but it was near to cracking. "Me? I haven't done anything."
Once more, Captain Gustavsson was uncomfortably aware of her companions; they refused to be away from her side, and while he could have ordered them out, and enforced that order if necessary, it would have required measures that would certainly attract attention from the other passengers, and their interest in anything having to do with Katherine Reinhold was the thing he desired to avoid most dearly in all the world. Not to mention that Miss Reinhold herself was a woman who plainly had access to people that his superiors in the home office would very much not like to offend. So for the sake of his career, and because he really could not find any reason to exclude them, he allowed them to remain.
Nonetheless, they had a way of staring at him--Detective Sergeant Kane in particular--that made him feel like a rank seaman again.
"Forgive me for correcting you, miss, but you did throw a man overboard just last evening. It would have been entirely within my authority to limit you to your stateroom right then, pending investigation." He paused to give her a chance to respond, but she sat in mute acquiescence. "Now it is unfortunate, but I believe it is safest for you to remain here."
"It wasn't very safe last night," T.J. snapped.
Captain Gustvasson scowled, and Kate turned around in her chair to give T.J. a pained look.
"While my friend has a regrettably blunt way of expressing himself," Damien moved in smoothly, "he is not wrong. We all know your steward didn't die of a heart attack."
"And what would you have me do, Mr. Pierrot, confine all passengers to their cabins? I can't move Miss Reinhold to another stateroom; there are none, and we have no guarantee that whatever struck down Mr. Andreotti here could not happen anywhere. This is all I can think of, and the best I can do." He returned his attention to Kate. "I will ensure that an officer is near to hand at all times, should you require assistance of any kind. For your part, I would suggest you make sure your door is securely locked."
"Thank you, captain," Kate said quietly.
He stood. "I will explain to the other guests at my table that you have decided to forego social engagements in light of the tragic circumstances of your steward's passing. I'm sure they will understand. Gentlemen."
"Confined to quarters? Who does he think he is?" T.J. exploded as the door clicked shut.
Kate stared at him. "He thinks he's the captain."
"Never mind that now," Ted interrupted. "Damien?"
Damien was already examining the flowers that had remained on the table. "I thought he'd never leave." He sniffed carefully. "Pungent," he said half to himself. "I'm going to need my case."
"Get it," Ted directed. "Professor, what do you know about ocean liners?"
"Not a blamed thing."
"Great. Neither do I. But you know small, dark spaces, and I know bodies. Let's go find us one."
They were out the door like a young hurricane, leaving Kate sitting open-mouthed, staring at the empty room.
"What about me? Aren't I the one in danger?"
Nothing threatened Kate in the next ten minutes, by which time Damien had returned with a trunk about the size of an Army footlocker. He set it down and opened it to reveal rows upon rows of stoppered vials holding various-colored powders and liquids, along with carefully-wrapped glassware, neatly-stacked small bowls, and several compact instruments whose purpose Kate could only guess at.
During the next hour, she watched with fascination and an utter lack of comprehension as he dissected half of her bouquet, shaving stems and petals, crushing bits, applying tiny drops of the contents of a half-dozen vials. He set small pieces on fire in his little bowls, carefully studying the flames. All the while he worked in complete silence and such perfect concentration that she was sure if she were to walk out of the door, he would not even notice.
Finally, he snuffed out the last flame, rechecked the seal on all the stoppered vials he had used, and sat back with a "Hmph."
"Well," he said, "I can tell you one thing about these flowers with absolute certainty."
"What's that?"
"They smell nice."
That same hour that Damien had spent to so little apparent effect was mirrored, failure for failure, by Ted and Professor Death's search for the cold locker containing the steward's body. Unable to use his usual method of interrogating witnesses --forcefully, if necessary--Ted had been compelled to reason his way. The most obvious clue was that the captain had directed the body removed to the lower holds, so their course pointed downward. Other than that, they were, as T.J. liked to smirk, "completely at sea."
"Who knew that ocean liners were this big?" Ted complained for the fourth time.
"Where did you think they put those 5000 guys on their way back from Europe? Look, this is getting us nowhere. We're spending half the time dodging the crew. I've got an idea."
Ted grabbed the Professor's arm. "Oh, no. Not one of your ideas. Those are always bad."
"Relax. This one's easy."
"Oh, lord. Those are the worst."
T.J. disengaged himself and walked openly down the narrow corridor, looking all around him with the air of a man who has nothing to hide. Ted helplessly trailed him until he ran into a little man with curly black hair and grease on his face--as well as a stunned expression.
"Oh, great," T.J. said before the crewman could speak. "Just the guy I'm looking for. We're trying to find where the captain stashed the body of that steward who died on the Boat Deck."
"I don't think you are supposed to be here, sir," the little man replied in an Eastern European accent. He gave T.J. and Ted a confused look, as though they were a species of human he had never seen before.
"No, it's all right, we're with cruise line security," T.J. assured him. "We're from the head office, and we just happened to be on the ship. Frankie, show him your badge." Ted pulled out his LAPD badge and flashed it too fast to be read. T.J. leaned in conspiratorially. "See, we were supposed to check off on the body before it was removed, but we were in the bar, you know?" He pantomimed taking a drink. "We weren't doing anything, just talking up some ladies, but they were passengers--you know?" The crewman bobbed his head as though the rules against fraternizing with passengers were the first thing he understood in this whole conversation. "So now we're supposed to write a report, but we haven't seen the body, and if the captain finds out…" He gave another pantomime, this time of something flying into the air and falling a long way. "We're swimmin' to Yokohama. You know what I'm sayin'?"
Ted waited until their reluctant guide was out of sight. "Cruise line security? And who's 'Frankie'?"
T.J. pulled open the heavy freezer door. "It worked, didn't it? And if he does tell somebody, I couldn't very well call you Ted, could I? Somebody might figure out who we were."
"G-good idea," Ted's voice chattered in the freezer. "N-no one would ever g-guess
it was us."
"Hurry up in there. It's getting' cold out here."
"Oh, shut up."
The frozen moments crept by.
"Ted! Ted!" T.J. hissed.
"I'm h-hurrying!"
"No, somebody's coming!"
"Is he c-crew?"
"I don't--wait I just got a glimpse of him. Hey, he's running!"
"Well, don't you f-follow him! T.J.? T.J.?"
But before Ted could rewrap the body and follow his friend, the door to the freezer ponderously slammed shut.
Chapter Eleven
Like a Gunshot
It took only a few moments for Professor Death to concede that in this unfamiliar warren of corridors, ladders and compartments, he had little chance of catching whoever had seen him at the freezer, particularly if were a crew member. But if it were, why not challenge a stranger in the restricted area? Why run?
Speaking of running, he realized belatedly, Ted had been yelling at him not to as he took off, he'd just been too excited to pay attention. The big guy was not going to be happy being left alone like that. T.J. returned to his former post at a trot--which broke into a horrified run when he saw that the freezer door was shut!
Yanking it open, he hastily pulled a nearby crate over to keep it from shutting again, then ducked into the freezer. Ted was huddled in a corner, already turning blue. T.J. helped him up with strength that would have amazed a stranger, and bundled him out into the warmer air of the hold.
"Walk around, buddy. Keep moving while I get the door shut."
Within a few moments, Ted's shaking was subsiding and his color had returned to normal.
"Thanks. I think I was only in there a few seconds, but it was hard to tell in the dark."
"I'm with you now, brother. Let's just walk around a little more, then we'll get you topside and give you some hot coffee."
By the time they had reached passenger country, Ted was able to pass off his near-death experience, to anyone who asked, as sea-sickness. When they got back to Kate's stateroom, after a quick explanation, Damien helped him strip off his coat and got him a blanket while Kate ordered an urn of black coffee, which was delivered with suspicious speed. Captain Gustavsson was making good on his promise to keep an eye on her.
"How did this happen?" Damien asked when Ted had downed his first cup.
"Yes, and where were you?" Kate demanded of T.J.
Ted tried to head off an explanation, but T.J. would have none of it. Without looking any of them in the eye, he narrated how he had been distracted and left Ted behind, a nearly fatal lapse of judgment. Damien, his lips a thin line, merely poured Ted more coffee, but Kate…
They had all suspected that the doll-like blonde held a little more regard for the hulking cop than she did for the rest of them, but she proceeded then and there to put all their doubts to rest. For the next ten minutes, Kate unleashed a tirade in eleven different languages, featuring words that were perfectly understandable in context, and as perfectly obvious that they were words no one would ever have guessed she knew.
Ted's coffee cup hung from his fingers, the coffee gone cold, unnoticed. Damien's eyes simply got wider and wider until they could widen no more. Suddenly, and without warning, she spun on Ted.
"And you--!" She threw up hands, gave an in articulate cry, stamped her foot, took his face in her hands, and kissed him so hard it sounded like a gunshot. "That's all I've got to say."
Damien snatched the cup from Ted's fingers as it started to fall.
"I was going to suggest that one of us should sleep out here tonight," Damien said, setting the cup down. "But I guess it won't be Ted."
"What is that supposed to mean?" Kate snapped.
"Nothing! Nothing!"
"Good." She turned to T.J. "Now, Professor, did you at least get a look at the man you chased? Tell me it wasn't a complete waste of time."
"Uh--no! I got a look at him." T.J. paused to recollect what he had seen. "I'd know him if I saw him again. He was medium-height, good-looking, wearing a suit, not a ship's uniform."
"Okay, then. He wasn't a crew member, but I think we'd figured that out already. You can keep an eye out." Ted's words were focused, but his expression was altogether not. He seemed to be looking straight through the ship's hull at something far away. "I didn’t find anything out, by the way… Damien, did you find anything?"
The lanky chemist shook his head. "Nothing I can put my finger on. I'm not a botanist, anyway, and I don't have a full laboratory. If I had more time, maybe."
"Well, then, we'll have to figure out where to go from here. I think Damien's idea is a good one, Kate, if you'll pardon my saying so. You have a separate door to your bedroom, and you can block that with a chair if you want." Kate rolled her eyes. Ted slowly rose and walked over to the nearest porthole, which was nearly closed. "This was open last night when we left. Did you adjust it before you went to bed?"
"No, I didn't really think about it. When I finally went to bed I was too exhausted."
Nodding, Ted closed the porthole and latched it. "Let's make sure all the other are locked, too. Whoever or whatever killed the steward got in here somehow."
Ever on edge, T.J. leaped out of his chair and began checking portholes. He disappeared into the other room as there was a knock on the door. Expecting Captain Gustavsson or one of his officers, Damien opened it.
"Oh, excuse me," said the man in the corridor. "I was looking for Miss Reinhold. Is this her stateroom?"
Giving the man a once-over, Damien responded neutrally, "Yes, it is."
"Who is it, Damien?" Kate asked, coming up behind him. "Oh, Sums--I mean, Mr. Dean. I wasn't expecting you. Please, come in."
Sums gave Damien a sidelong look while passing him, then blinked when he saw another very large fellow lounging against a sideboard. The fellow made the sideboard suffer by comparison.
"I'm sorry, Miss Reinhold. I'd heard you were feeling under the weather and I came to offer my services. I didn't realize you had company."
"It's quite all right, Mr. Dean," Kate said in her best hostess voice. "This is Mr. Pierrot, and Mr. Kane. They're friends of mine, through my late brother. We're travelling to the Orient together."
Sums shook hands with Ted and Damien, who remained at his post by the door. Hearing T.J. enter from the other room, Kate said:
"And this is Mr.--"
But that was as far as she got as Professor Death charged across the room, slamming Sums into a wall.
"This is him! This is the guy I saw sneaking around down in the hold!"
Chapter Twelve
Explanations and Suspicions
"You? That was you in the hold?" Sums was struggling to push T.J. away from him, and seemed surprised that he was getting nowhere.
"T.J.! Let him go!" Kate pulled on the Professor's arm, and got no further than had Sums. She tried tugging with both hands, with no more effect.
"Ease up, Professor. I've got this." Ted gently and with no apparent effort disengaged T.J.'s grip on his hapless victim. He led Sums to a chair, half-helping, half-forcing him to sit, then he glanced at Damien, still on door guard duty. "Damien, come here a second. Stand behind Mr. Dean. Now hold his arms down."
Quick as lighting, Damien had Sum's arms pinned at his sides.
"What the hell--?" Sums's voice halted as Ted reached into the other man's jacket and pulled out a revolver.
"You can let go, Damien." Ted opened the cylinder and let the shells drop into his massive hand. He closed the gun and put it in his own side pocket. "Now, Mr. Dean, let's get our roles here straight." He produced his badge and held it where Sums could get a good luck. "I'm a cop. Right now you're thinking, 'He doesn't have any jurisdiction on this ship,' and you're absolutely correct. I can't arrest you, and I can't have the captain throw you in the brig. But let's look at it another way. If I call the captain and tell him I found this gun on you, what do you think he's likely to do?"
Sums looked around the room. The three men were grim, and if Gil
lis, the smallest of them, had been able to hold him fast, he would stand no chance against all three. Kate Reinhold's face was neutral, but she had raised no objection to the big cop's treatment of him. The realization crossed Sums's face that if he were to be turned over to the captain, it would be a long time from now, and maybe not all of his pieces would still be attached. He licked his lips.
"Look--I don't know what's going on here. What do you want from me?"
"What were you doing down in the hold this afternoon?"
"Who said I was in the hold?"
Ted pointed to T.J. "He did. And I believe him. In fact, I would believe him if he told me the sky was green. So I would suggest you lose the cockiness and start talking." He moved in closer and loomed over Sums. No one could loom like Ted Kane. He had practiced it for years, and it very seldom failed to produce results.
"Okay! Fine. I was following you."
"Why?"
Sums's eyes flickered. "I work for the steamship line. I'm an undercover guard. We have a lot of rich passengers, they--" He was interrupted once again, this time by T.J.'s braying laughter. "What's up with him now?"
Ted smiled. "Try another caper. That one's been used."
"But I--"
"Security runs toward trouble, not away from it. Now tell us what you were doing following us today, or I'm going to let my friend go back to what he was doing. And let me warn you--they don't call him Professor Death for nothing."
Sums stared as if it were all a big joke, but his defiant front fell apart when he saw no one was laughing.
"Who are you people?"
"Uh-uh, Mr. Dean. I ask the questions. You answer them. What were you doing in the hold?"
Sums looked ready to unleash another protest, but it died unborn. "I saw you fellows leave this cabin, and I thought you might be up to something. So I followed you down. When you saw me, I ran."
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