Anderson nodded toward Miss Vance. “Our detective has taken the knife in question into her personal custody.”
“Well, that’s fine,” Turner said.
“She has with her fingerprinting equipment, sir.”
Turner frowned, pipe in his teeth. “How does that help the situation?”
Miss Vance said, “If I find fingerprints on the knife, I can compare them to our three dead stowaways. If prints belonging to a fourth party are present, we probably have a murderer aboard. . possibly a crew member.”
“What are you suggesting?”
“Well,” she said, and she was keeping her tone strictly business-like, “we would fingerprint the crew, to make comparisons.”
Turner’s eyebrows climbed his forehead. “Ye gods, how long would that take?”
“It can be done gradually, when they’re off duty. It’s tedious, but easily accomplished. .”
Those eyebrows were still high. “And if there’s no match among the crew?”
She shrugged. “Fingerprinting the passengers might be beyond my capability, under these circumstances. . but I can assure you the British authorities will not allow anyone off this boat before they themselves have taken this measure.”
Turner was shaking his head. “I don’t see how I can allow this. .”
“Captain,” Miss Vance said tersely, “you have no choice.”
His eyes and nostrils flared. “Oh, don’t I? Are you running the ship now, young lady? Is ‘detective’ a rank above ‘captain,’ where you come from?”
She was sitting rather stiff-backed. “As a Pinkerton operative, sir, I am an officer of the court. If I have knowledge of a crime, it is not only my duty, but my legal responsibility to report it.”
Anderson said, “No one is suggesting that this crime not be reported!”
Gesturing with his pipe in hand, smearing the air with smoke, Turner said, “We’re not talking crime, Miss. . uh, Vance. This is an instance of espionage, and it’s a military matter, not a criminal one.”
“That’s for others to judge,” she said.
Turner’s pale face began to turn a peculiar shade of purple. “The captain is the only judge on the high seas, my dear. . and you are sorely trying the patience of the captain.”
“Meaning no disrespect, sir, I was hired by Cunard, not by you. I answer to Cunard, to Pinkerton. . and to the law. I will cooperate with you in every way-both Mr. Van Dine and I have already pledged our confidentiality to Staff Captain Anderson. We have no desire to alarm the passengers, or even the crew. . in fact, our investigation will proceed more effectively under a similar cloud of secrecy.”
“Your ‘investigation,’ ” the captain curtly said, “will consist of checking that knife handle for fingerprints. When you have a result, come to me.”
“Yes, sir,” she said.
Turner’s beady gaze swivelled in my direction. “I’ve talked freely in front of you, Mr. Van Dine-and I know it’s made Mr. Anderson nervous.”
“No need for anxiety,” I said. “My intentions are honorable. My goal is to conduct interviews with various passengers-that is all.”
That those passengers were the same ones listed on the scrap of paper in the dead man’s shoe I did not point out.
Anderson said, “Mr. Van Dine assures me he intends to portray our ship in the best possible light.”
Sitting back, puffing his pipe, Captain Turner said, “Very good-Miss Vance, I would like you to help arrange these interviews. .perhaps starting with your charge, Madame DePage.”
“Certainly, Captain.”
Turner rose. “Now I would suggest we all try to catch a few hours of sleep. . I can tell you that’s what I plan.”
After a brusque good-bye, we found ourselves back in the hallway.
Anderson confronted his ship’s detective. “Most of that was entirely out of line, Miss Vance.”
She stood up to him, her nose inches from his. “Let me ask you a simple question, Captain Anderson-how will you feel if one of your passengers turns up murdered?”
He reared back. “Why would-”
But she pressed forward. “And, afterward, it’s learned that you and the captain were unconcerned that a killer was at large on this ship. . that no attempts were made to find him?”
His eyes were wide. “The. . the stowaways are dead. The danger is past.”
“Are you quite sure? Are you certain you know why that list of prime passengers was found in the dead spy’s shoe? Do you truly think a man who’d been stabbed in the heart found his way to the next floor before dying?”
Anderson couldn’t seem to find any words with which to respond.
“I know you’re just trying to do your job,” she told him, backing off. “And I’m doing mine. . Now, I still have work to do. Unlike Captain Turner, I doubt I’ll be ‘catching’ a few hours sleep.”
“Nor will I,” Anderson said. He sighed. “I meant no offense, Miss Vance. . if I spoke out of turn. .”
“No apology needed. This is an unusual situation-we’re all finding our way, as best we can. But if I might be so bold. . think for yourself, Captain Anderson.”
“I don’t understand. .”
She nodded toward the door of the captain’s suite. “You’ll have to: That salty old bastard doesn’t have a brain in his head. . Good evening.”
Anderson looked as if he’d been poleaxed, and Miss Vance walked quickly down the corridor, and I followed her. We took the stairs, not the elevator, to our floor one deck below.
And then we were walking along the empty corridor where, not long ago at all, a corpse had resided on this very linoleum.
“I’m going to examine that knife handle for prints,” she said, at her door.
“Do you need my help?”
“No, thank you. It’s a one-person job.” She touched my cheek; her flesh was cool. “Get some rest.”
I thought about kissing her, but it didn’t seem befitting, somehow. So I blew her a kiss instead, and walked down to my room.
I had washed up, and climbed first into my nightshirt and then beneath my covers, when a sharp knock at the cabin door startled me.
Answering it, I found Miss Vance there-her eyes wide, her face white-and she brushed by me, and sat on my bed. She was in quite a state.
“It’s gone!” she said.
I sat next to her-she fully clothed, me in my nightshirt-and asked, “What is gone?”
Her eyes flashed at me. “The knife, you fool-someone took it from my room.”
“My God-then there is a murderer on the crew!”
She sighed. “Not necessarily-a passenger could have bribed a passkey. . and, remember, Anderson was concerned about my fingerprinting the crew and/or the passengers, even before Turner brought it up.”
“You mean, he could have had someone remove it, just to prevent that inconvenience?”
“Yes. . these British boneheads have some very peculiar ideas about propriety.”
I put an arm around her, and she fell against me-even a strong woman like this could go soft from defeat.
“What good would it do to make accusations?” she wondered aloud. “Suppose they agreed to search the ship-you know damn well that knife has been pitched overboard, long since!”
I could only agree. “What does that leave us? In the eyes of Turner and Anderson, this incident is closed. . at least until we reach Liverpool, and the British authorities are brought in.”
She sat up, eyes brightening. “Has it occurred to you that the late Klaus may have found his way to first class because he had an accomplice there?”
“Well, no. . but why would anyone in first class be an accomplice to German stowaways. .?”
She was smiling, tightly. “That is what we must find out, Van.”
“How?”
“By talking to our most likely suspects. . who I believe are the same names on that list found in the stowaway’s shoe.”
I was frankly bewildered. “What makes them the most likely suspects? Before, you said they were potential victims-either of assassination, or robbery. .”
“I still consider that a strong possibility. Perhaps the name of the real mastermind was mixed in with the targeted victims to encourage ruling that person out as a suspect.”