“Mr. Van Dine. . Miss Vance. .” Anderson’s expression was grave. “Even more than before, I must urge your cooperation.”
“Why, of course,” I said.
Miss Vance merely nodded.
Anderson went on. “These murders must remain confidential-I wish neither to alarm the passengers, nor impede any investigation you might deem necessary, Miss Vance.”
“I believe this is a wise course of action,” she said.
A voice from the doorway interrupted the conversation. “Begging your pardon.”
It was McDermott; his expression was perplexed.
“Captain Anderson, there’s something you should see. . Miss Vance, as ship’s detective, I believe you’ll find this of particular interest.”
Though I had not been invited, I joined the little group as they followed the young doctor to the infirmary next door, where the next surprise in this extraordinary affair awaited us.
EIGHT
At first Dr. McDermott’s discovery seemed anticlimactic, following as it did the discovery of German stowaways and a parade of foul play that extended from the brig to first class. (Later Miss Vance shared with me her fear that the inexperienced doctor had finally noticed the blue pigmentation and almond odor, and had belatedly put two and two together. . a morsel of math she could well do without.)
The ship’s infirmary, male apportionment,* was a blindingly white room-neither chamber nor cubicle-where the naked corpse of Klaus the ringleader lay facedown (apparently so that the knife wound could be examined) on a hospital bed along the left wall. On a counter opposite the doorway, beneath various cabinets, in front of rows of lidded glass containers of an innocuous variety-cotton balls, throat depressors and gauze-was the pile of the late stowaway’s clothing. . which is to say, his commandeered clothing, the stewards’ uniform.
But next to the pants and shirt and undergarments were a pair of heavy brown shoes and darker brown woolen socks. These would have seemed as undramatic as the other apparel were not for young Dr. McDermott’s presentation of a slip of paper, about four inches by four inches, which had been folded up, until the doctor examined it.
“This,” the baby-faced physician said, “was in the deceased’s left shoe. . under a loose flap at the heel.”
Protocol might have deemed Anderson the first party to examine this discovery; but Philomina Vance stepped forward and snatched it from the young man’s fingers, startling him.
“It’s a list of names,” she said, scanning quickly through narrowed eyes. “A very interesting list of names, at that. . ”
The doctor was nodding. “That’s why I came running-I may be new in this job, but I certainly recognize our foremost passengers when I see them.”
She handed the list to Anderson, at whose side I stood; he made no effort to withhold its contents from me, in fact openly shared the scrap of paper with me.
The names, in no apparent order, were Charles Williamson, Marie DePage, Charles Frohman, Elbert Hubbard, George Kessler, and Alfred Vanderbilt. Next to each name was a number.
I looked at Anderson curiously, and he anticipated my question: “Cabin numbers.”
Miss Vance asked, “And those are, in fact, the correct designations?”
Anderson nodded. “This isn’t just a list of our most famous, prestigious passengers. .but a inventory of where to find them.”
“What can it mean?” the doctor asked.
Anderson glared at the young man. “That is not your concern, Doctor.”
“Well, I didn’t mean to-”
“Your job is to deal with the dead, and to keep mum about it. Understood?”
The young doctor nodded, his cheeks crimson.
I had a feeling an irritation had been building in Anderson due to Miss Vance’s take-charge demeanor, and the poor wet-behind-the-ears doc had taken the brunt. . the staff captain being too much of a gentleman to dress down a woman, who was after all the ship’s official detective.
Anderson turned to Miss Vance, but as he spoke, his eyes flicked to me occasionally. “I have alerted the captain, and he has requested an update, and audience with both of you.”
“When, pray tell?” Miss Vance asked pleasantly.
“He should be ready for us, now. . Doctor. Carry on.”
The doctor swallowed, said, “Yes, sir,” rather meekly, and attended his dead patient.
Soon we were moving through the deserted, cavernous first-class dining saloon, three abreast. Miss Vance, perhaps sensing a growing aggravation in Anderson, said nothing. I, of course, threw caution to the wind.
“What do you make of the list?” I asked. “Why room numbers?”
Anderson’s expression was blank. “I would hesitate to speculate. . Miss Vance, have you a thought?”
Seizing the opening, she said, “It could be a list of targets. . assassination targets.”
That, frankly, had not occurred to me, and it stopped me momentarily in my tracks; but I quickly caught up with them-Anderson hadn’t missed a beat, this dire possibility apparently having dawned on him, as well.
“It would certainly be demoralizing to the British government,” Anderson said, “should such important parties be lost while under our protection.”
“You can’t be serious,” I said. “The Germans don’t want the United States in your damned war! Why, killing the likes of Vanderbilt and Hubbard and the rest, that would incite Americans to the point of hysteria.”
We were in the Grand Entrance area now, that bulwark of wicker and ferns, the elevators and staircase opposite us.
Anderson had flinched at the phrase “damned war,” but his response did not indicate any offense had been taken. “Politics is Greek to me,” he said. “Still, I doubt your country would go to war over such killings; but the embarrassment to Great Britain, I should say, would be most devastating.”
On the elevator, Miss Vance said to Anderson, who stood between us, “Assassination isn’t the only purpose that list might hold.”
Anderson looked sideways at her, brow knit. “Can you tell me another?”
“These are rich people-don’t forget, I’m here in part to guard Madame DePage’s charity chest, which is itself a small fortune. Perhaps that list is meant to direct these stowaways. . posing as stewards. . to those cabins-for plunder.”
The elevator deposited us at the Grand Entrance of the Boat Deck, where more wicker and ferns awaited. Anderson paused there, his patience obviously wearing thin.
“Miss Vance,” he said, “these are spies-German spies.”
Her smile was cheerfully professional. “And may I remind you that the darkroom found nothing at all on their camera plates?”
This was the first I’d heard of that; but I didn’t see it as significant: We’d merely captured the espionage agents too early for them to indulge in their information gathering.
Anderson said something of a similar nature to Miss Vance, who replied, “Why do you assume theft and sabotage are mutually exclusive concerns?”
The staff captain’s eyes tightened and his head titled to one side-this was an interesting question.
She continued: “Why not commit espionage and/or sabotage, with a side dish of thievery. . If they were planning to wait until near the end of the voyage, off Ireland, our three ‘tourists’ may well have been picked up by members of the IRA, who are in collusion with Germany, after all.”
Miss Vance never ceased to amaze me. I said, “You mean they could be funding IRA efforts to aid the German cause?”
“They could. Or they could be saboteurs taking advantage of their proximity to so much wealth, to do their country’s foul bidding even while feathering their own nests.”
I nodded. “Perhaps it had been offered as an incentive, in undertaking a perilous task?”
“Perhaps.”
Anderson seemed weary. He was really not up to this level of deliberative assessment, and I felt anything further Miss Vance offered would fall on deaf ears. What the staff captain said next confirmed my suspicion.