The Crime on the Norwegian Sea

by Steve Stevenson

  “You see? None of them could be the culprit!” said Agatha.

  “But then, who is?” Dash sounded worried.

  Agatha kept her eyes on the screen as the recorded game ended. Ms. Turner got up, looking triumphant, while the other two walked away disappointed. Then Bismarck left. The last to leave was the croupier. He turned toward the camera for a brief instant.

  Long enough for them to see that he was wearing a black silk tie.

  “Skip forward ten minutes or so,” said Agatha.

  Dash obliged. After his break, the croupier resumed his place at the table and continued dealing to other tourists on board the King Arthur.

  But his tie had disappeared.

  “It makes perfect sense that he wouldn’t be wearing it,” Agatha said slowly. “Because it’s right here in my hand . . . It was the croupier who strangled Bismarck!”

  “But who is he?” asked Dash.

  “And why Hermann Bauer?” asked Miller.

  “Try running that facial-recognition program again,” Agatha urged.

  Dash went back to work on his EyeNet. In moments, a file on the mysterious croupier came up on the screen.

  “Pablo Navarro, thirty-six years old. Spanish citizen, born in Barcelona. It says he's an ex–secret agent for the Spanish intelligence service, Centro Nacional de Inteligencia. Fired six years ago for undisclosed reasons. Master of disguise, he’s famous for subterfuge. He usually conducts his business in secret, without disclosing his presence to his competitors . . .”

  “In our business,” Herbert confirmed, “everyone knows about Pablo Navarro . . . but only by reputation! Few have ever seen his face. Bismarck must have contacted him about the auction as well. But Navarro participated in disguise, pretending to be the croupier. All without our knowledge!”

  Agatha continued to study the footage on the EyeNet.

  “The times match up. During his break, Navarro followed Bismarck back to his cabin and committed the crime. Then he searched the briefcase and stole the flash drive. Once he realized it was blank, he hid in it Kentaro’s pocket, so he must have gone to the gym . . .”

  She pointed to the cabin door. “Finally he came here. Thanks to the master key card all crew members have, he unlocked the door and threw the murder weapon inside Miller’s cabin. Then he returned to the casino and took up his place at the blackjack table as though nothing had happened!”

  “What a creep!” hissed the English ex-spy. “He tried to frame me for murder!”

  “You’re wrong,” said Agatha. “If he had wanted to incriminate you, or one of the other auction participants, he would have acted differently.”

  Dash frowned again.

  Agatha gave him a smile and continued. “If Navarro had wanted to pin the blame on Miller, he would have left the flash drive here with the murder weapon, don’t you think? In which case we would have no doubt about Miller’s guilt.”

  “Well, yes,” said Dash, nodding. “So why didn’t he do that?”

  “He didn’t care about framing a colleague. His objective wasn’t to pin the blame on one of you three. He only wanted to muddy the waters. Mess up the investigation and perhaps cause you three to suspect one another!”

  “But why?” asked Dash.

  “To buy time!” exclaimed Agatha. “And that’s not good news . . .”

  She jumped up and strode to the cabin door. “Don’t you get it? We’re docking at Trondheim in just a few hours . . . Navarro is planning to leave the King Arthur as soon as he can and cover his tracks!”

  Dash jumped to his feet. “We don’t have much time to discover his hiding place!”

  “I think we’ll need everyone’s help!” exclaimed Agatha, turning to Miller. “Contact Lilian Turner and Kentaro Takagi. Meet us at the casino. Maybe Navarro is still dealing blackjack!”

  When the three detectives and three ex-spies met on Deck Nine, the Excalibur’s neon sign was turned off, but the shuttered door was propped open.

  “The casino’s about to close,” Miller said with a grimace.

  “There’ll be nobody left but the cleaning crew,” said Lilian Turner.

  “So much the better!” Dash said happily. “Nobody will be around to make a fuss if we minors go and take a look.”

  Just then a familiar voice sounded behind him.

  “Son, what are you doing up? I thought you went to bed hours ago!”

  Edgar Mistery was standing behind them, with Kristi on his arm.

  Edgar Mistery approached, grinning. Sensing Dash’s discomfort, the three spies retreated, feigning an air of indifference.

  “Well, well, well,” Edgar said cheerfully. “Living the high life, aren’t we? Planning to introduce us to these lovely people?”

  “We have a problem, Uncle,” Agatha said with a worried frown. “Watson escaped from my cabin. We’ve been looking for him for hours. These three kind people”—she pointed at Turner, Takagi, and Miller—“are helping us search!”

  “We’ll help you, too!” Edgar promptly exclaimed.

  “We don’t need your help, Dad.” Dash cut him off, blocking the entrance to the casino. “We just saw him go in here. Too many people will only scare him away. We’ll see you two and Ilse at breakfast tomorrow!”

  The casino was deserted. The slot machines had been turned off, and the only people left inside were a couple of cleaners, vacuuming the maroon carpet. Chandler recovered the camera as Miller approached the two cleaners to ask about Pablo Navarro.

  The young Englishman returned to the group, his head lowered. “Bad luck! Navarro was at the blackjack table until twenty minutes ago. Then he disappeared!”

  “We should split up to look for him,” said Ms. Turner. “I’ll check to see if he’s returned to his cabin!”

  “I’ll check all the bars that are still open,” suggested Herbert. “Maybe he went to get something to eat after his shift.”

  “I’ll search the outside decks and the lifeboats. If I find him there, I’ll take him out with my dragon punch!” Kentaro exclaimed with a bow.

  “We’ll check out the covered decks,” concluded Agatha. “Stay in touch. The first to find the assassin will let the others know, agreed?”

  “I’ll talk to your earrings,” said Ms. Turner, winking.

  The group split up. The children and Chandler went up to Deck Ten. It was past two in the morning, and the ship was practically deserted. Only a few night owls were up roaming the halls.

  “This ship is a maze!” exclaimed Dash. “And it’s less than three hours until we dock in Trondheim. Navarro could be hiding anywhere by now, in the hold or some other area off-limits to the public . . . We’ll never find him!”

  “I’m afraid Master Dash may be right this time,” Chandler observed. “It would take a stroke of exceptional luck to come across the fugitive before the ship docks.”

  “Well, there’s one consolation,” Dash said bitterly. “The assassin may get away with murder . . . but he wasn’t able to get his hands on Bismarck’s top secret information.”

  “The information!” Agatha’s eyes widened. “Of course! Why didn’t I think of that earlier?”

  Dash and Chandler turned to face her. Her face lit up, radiant.

  “Bismarck’s flash drive was just a front,” she explained. “The information is still hidden somewhere else. Probably inside his cabin!”

  “Perhaps.” Chandler nodded. “But what does that have to do with our search?”

  “Don’t you understand?” she said. “Pablo Navarro would never leave the King Arthur without taking it with him. As in the best mystery tradition, the killer will return to the scene of the crime!”

  She strode toward a flight of stairs leading up to Deck Eleven.

  “Tell the others, Dash! We’ll find our culprit in Bismarck’s cabin right now!”

  Five mi
nutes later, the three detectives arrived outside cabin 1188. The hall was deserted and the cabin door slightly ajar. Two voices could be heard from within. Agatha approached on tiptoe, leaning forward to peer through the crack.

  The room was exactly as Chandler had described it. Bismarck’s briefcase sat on the desk. The German spy’s body was still on the bed, but it had been wrapped in a plastic body bag. Standing in the center of the room were two men.

  Agatha recognized both of them.

  The first was the captain of the King Arthur, who’d been at the welcome party. He was a stocky man with a shaved head, dressed in his official uniform. He looked upset.

  The second was Pablo Navarro. His hair was slicked back and he had a thin mustache. He was still wearing his croupier outfit, and his eyes darted around the room, as though he were trying to find something hidden.

  “That’s all I know, Señor Captain,” he said with a strong Spanish accent. “I only just met this poor fellow at the blackjack table a few hours ago . . .”

  The captain snorted in annoyance. “You’re wasting my time! First you tell me you have evidence relating to the murder of Mr. Bauer. Then you tell me that you won’t share your suspicions until you’ve seen the victim’s room. You ask me to accompany you to the crime scene, which I’d already ordered sealed so as not to contaminate any evidence.” The captain glared at the croupier. “And now you’re telling me you don’t actually know a single thing. So what use are you?”

  “Simple,” said Agatha, pushing the door open and entering. “Your croupier came here to find out where Bauer hid the information he tried to steal after murdering him! And he needed you to reopen the sealed crime scene.”

  The false croupier’s jaw tensed almost imperceptibly.

  “And who are you, Miss?” asked the captain.

  “We’re agents of Eye International,” Dash declared as he entered, followed by Chandler. “And we can prove that this man killed Hermann Bauer!”

  The captain raised his eyebrows in surprise.

  Pablo Navarro ran a hand through his gelled hair and gave a nervous laugh. “Come on, Captain . . . You can’t take these two niños seriously!”

  “I’ve never been more serious,” said Dash, his voice hard-edged. “Captain, this man is a murderer. He used his necktie to strangle Bauer . . . the one he’s no longer wearing!” He held up the evidence.

  “Estupidez!” growled Navarro. “Nonsense! I will not allow these two children to drag my good name through the mud!”

  “There’s no point pretending,” said Agatha coldly. “We know everything, Navarro. We even managed to find out where the information you tried to steal is hidden.”

  She pointed at Bismarck’s briefcase. “The files weren’t on that flash drive . . . but inside the briefcase lining itself!”

  At these words, the croupier reacted like lightning. He shoved the captain with one hand and grabbed Bismarck’s empty briefcase with the other. Then he jumped out the small window facing the terrace.

  The captain lay sprawled on the ground, paralyzed with surprise. Dash and Chandler stepped over him and climbed through the open window. The last person to leave cabin 1188 was Agatha, who paused at the desk for a moment before she went out.

  Even though it was three in the morning, the sun was already rising over the arctic sea. The sky shone red, pink, and gray. Impressive green swirls of light shimmered above the horizon. It was the famous aurora borealis, the northern lights.

  Pablo Navarro was running toward a service entrance to the ship. Just before he went through it, he turned to face his pursuers.

  “Thanks for the tip, niños!” he shouted triumphantly, waving the briefcase. “Now I’ve got my hands on Bismarck’s information, and all I have to do is escape. We’ll be docking before you can blink! Adios!”

  The door opened behind him, and Herbert Miller, Kentaro Takagi, and Lilian Turner spilled onto the terrace.

  “Hands up and surrender, Navarro!” the Englishman yelled.

  “Or prepare for a fight!” thundered the Japanese man.

  “Either way, you’re Texas toast!” Lilian Turner laughed.

  Agatha, Dash, and Chandler approached Navarro. The fake croupier was surrounded. He fell to his knees, whipped open the briefcase, and tore at the foam lining in search of Bismarck’s secret files.

  “You’re wasting your time,” Agatha said with a smile. “The microchip containing the information isn’t in the briefcase lining. I lied to make you give yourself away. Call it a bluff, señor.”

  Chandler and Takagi swooped down on the fugitive, restraining both arms.

  The captain came out to join them, accompanied by two security guards.

  “Now, can someone please tell me what’s happening on my ship?” he cried.

  While Chandler and Dash filled him in, Agatha and the three former spies stepped away.

  “The murderer’s been caught,” Miller said with a frown. “But there’s still one mystery left. What became of the top secret information?”

  Agatha smiled, pulled an envelope out of her jacket, and gave it to Lilian Turner. It was the same one Chandler had found at the crime scene.

  “I collected it from the desk in his cabin,” she explained. “Your name is written on top. I think poor Bismarck addressed it to you.”

  Ms. Turner pulled the blank sheet of paper out of the envelope, inspecting it carefully. “Nothing visible, but . . .”

  “Don’t you find it curious,” Agatha said with a wink, “that the victim planned to hand you a blank sheet of paper in an envelope . . . with a stamp?”

  Ms. Turner had already started to peel off the postage stamp. Sure enough, there was a microchip hidden underneath it, no thicker than a piece of paper.

  Agatha turned to the others. “I think we ought to respect Bismarck’s last wishes. Even if you’re all spies, you’ve conducted your business within the law. Lilian Turner won the auction fair and square . . . she should get the information.”

  Herbert Miller and Kentaro Takagi traded glances, then nodded reluctantly.

  Behind them, Dash exclaimed, “Pablo Navarro, I’m turning you over to the captain of this ship. You’re the one responsible for the murder of Hermann Bauer!”

  Agatha smiled. It was the fourth time that night that her cousin had repeated the same accusation.

  But this time he was right.

  It was just before six o’clock in the morning when the King Arthur slipped calmly into the port at Trondheim. The sun shone brightly in a clear sky.

  Agent AP36 was recovering from an uncomfortable overnight train trip and a bouncy taxi ride to the docks. As he joined the crowd waiting to board the ship, he noticed a small group disembarking down a separate ramp. The ship’s captain was chatting with Agent DM14, followed by a blond girl who looked about twelve, a large gentleman in a tuxedo, and an irritated Siberian cat.

  “DM14, what’s going on here?” cried AP36, joining the group.

  “This young man is truly a budding detective!” crowed the captain. “There was a murder on board the King Arthur last night, but your student solved the case and caught a dangerous assassin!”

  A pair of security guards disembarked, escorting a Spaniard dressed as a croupier. They led him unceremoniously to a police car parked on the concrete pier.

  “An assassin? DM14, please explain!” stammered AP36.

  Dash flashed his best secret-agent smile. “Go ahead onto the ship, sir, and make yourself comfortable. I’ll file a full report later. For now, I’m on a family vacation!” Dash strolled away, flanked by Agatha, Chandler, and Watson.

  Agent AP36 stood stunned, unsure how to respond.

  The King Arthur was staying in port until evening so tourists could explore Trondheim’s historic harbor, cathedral, and folk-art museum. But Edgar Mistery wasn’t satisfied with a simple walking tour.
He booked a luxurious family-size speedboat and invited Agatha and Dash to sail the crystal clear waters of Trondheim Fjord, the vast, deep waterway that the lovely Norwegian town overlooked.

  They left around ten in the morning. The speedboat, under Edgar’s expert control, zipped along under a brilliant blue summer sky. When they reached the middle of the fjord, he turned off the engine so they could relax in the idyllic surroundings.

  Chandler, who’d brought everything they needed, began passing out open-face smørbrød sandwiches. Kristi played with little Ilse. Edgar decided to take a dip in the freezing arctic waters to prove his courage and physical strength. He emerged thumping his chest like Tarzan, though his skin looked a bit blue and his teeth chattered.

  Agatha sat at the bow of the speedboat, writing in her notebook. Watson, curled up on her lap, watched hungrily as marine birds dived into the water, emerging with shimmering, silvery fish in their claws.

  Exhausted from lack of sleep and from the previous night’s excitement, Dash fell asleep almost immediately under the warm summer sun.

  “You look like you’re ninety years old,” teased his father, ruffling his hair. “Come on, get up. I’ve got a new challenge for you!”

  “Ugh, Dad,” grumbled Dash, covering his face with his hands. “Can’t you just leave me alone? I just want to rest for a while!”

  “Forget it,” said Edgar, pointing at a small island half a mile away. “Come on, show me your stuff. Take the helm and steer us to that dock, if you can!”

  While Edgar restarted the engine, Dash reached out for the wheel with a yawn, and stepped on the gas.

  Gently at first, and then louder and louder, the speedboat roared toward the wooden pier of the tree-covered island.

  “Hey, this is fun!” admitted Dash, as the wind ruffled his hair.

  “Take it easy, guys,” Kristi said cheerfully. “Don’t scare Ilse!”