Murder on the Minnesota (26 page)

“I’d recommend it as well, Mr. Blaine,” said the purser.

“I have a duty to protect you, sir.”

“You’re the one who looks as if he’s in need of protection,” noted Blaine.

The three men were in Blaine’s cabin. Though still nursing his wounds, Jake Poole felt strong enough to offer his services again. In view of the attack on Dillman, the purser was anxious to shield the diplomat even more.

“I may have one arm in a sling,” said the bodyguard, “but I
can still hold a gun in the other. We’re taught to shoot with both hands, Mr. Blaine. Why take the risk of sleeping in here on your own when I could be in the other bunk?”

“I managed perfectly well last night.”

“Only because they don’t know where you are yet.”

“In that case, there’s no danger.”

“Yes, there is, sir,” said Roebuck. “If they’re clever enough to find out what you’re doing on this ship, it won’t take them long to track you down. Mr. Poole is right. You need protection around the clock.”

Blaine gave a wry smile. “Does that mean someone has to hold my hand when I visit the bathroom? No, gentlemen,” he said, “I appreciate your concern but it’s not necessary. While I’m in the public rooms, I feel perfectly secure.”

“This is where the attack is likely to come,” argued Poole.

“They still think I’m in that cabin on the boat deck.” He turned to the purser. “Were there any problems there in the night, Mr. Roebuck?”

“No, no,” lied the other. “Mr. Dillman was undisturbed.”

“There you are, then!”

“All that proves is that they know you’ve moved out of the cabin,” said Poole. They’ll be searching for this one. I’d like to be here when they find it.”

“You’ve done more than your share already, Jake.”

“I feel as if I’m letting you down.”

“Not at all,” said Blaine. “I’m the one with the guilt. You were attacked because of me. If Mr. Dillman hadn’t come along at the right time, your attacker might have finished the job. Imagine how I would have felt then.”

“It’s my duty, sir. I know the risks.”

“Well, you’re not taking any more on my behalf. Everything has gone smoothly so far. That door is very stout and it has two bolts on the inside. Even with a master key, nobody can get in at night. I think you should both stop worrying about me,” he said confidently. “We must rely on Mr. Dillman to catch this assassin before he reaches me.”

Poole had doubts. “What are the chances of that?”

“Much higher than you think,” said Roebuck defensively. “George Dillman is an amazing man. Mr. Blaine put his finger on it a moment ago when he talked about that fall of yours down the stairs. Someone came along at precisely the right time. George Dillman has an uncanny habit of doing that.”

When he saw Dillman approaching him, Wu Feng’s first impulse was to flee, but the detective’s reassuring smile made him stand his ground.

“It’s all right, Mr. Feng,” said Dillman. “I haven’t come to arrest you and your father again. I know that you’re legitimate passengers now. Your fare is paid.”

“This kind man helped us, sir. Father Slattery.”

“So I understand.”

“You thank him for us? We no see him since.”

“I’m afraid not,” said Dillman ruefully. “He’s been busy elsewhere.”

As soon as breakfast was over, the detective had gone down to the main deck in search of the Fengs. Remembering where he had found them, he wondered if they might be able to shed some light on a problem that vexed him. Wu Feng was sitting on the deck among the other steerage passengers. He was still wary of Dillman.

“I want to know how you came to be on the orlop deck,” said the detective. “Only crew members have access to the hold. How did you get down there in the first place?”

“By accident, sir. We follow a man.”

“What man? One of the crew?”

“No, sir. My father and me, we get aboard the night before the ship sail. We not know where to hide. When passengers come onboard, there are men in uniform who ask everyone to show tickets.” He gave a gesture of despair. “We had none.”

“So what did you do?”

“We very frightened, sir. When man in uniform come
towards us, we ran away. We go down steps, run as fast as we can. We finish up where you found us.”

“But how?” asked Dillman, still puzzled. “The orlop deck is locked.”

“The man had a key.”

“The one in uniform?”

“No, sir. Another man. He wears a suit and hat. We see him open a door so we sneak in after him and hide. Later,” he recalled sadly, “when the ship sail, we find that we locked in. Then you come looking for us.”

“Actually, I was searching for something else,” said Dillman. “Tell me about this man who let you into the orlop deck. If he was wearing a suit and a hat, he certainly wasn’t one of the crew. Can you remember anything about him?”

“No, sir. Nothing at all.” A memory surfaced. “Except for his ear.”

“His ear?” repeated Dillman.

“Yes, sir,” said Feng, indicating with his hand. “It was this big.”

Maxine Gilpatrick’s anger was no match for her husband’s bad temper. He was up, dressed, and ready for her this time. When she accused him of arranging to have Genevieve’s cabin searched, he flew into such a rage that she backed off. Gilpatrick denied the charge hotly. His wife came to believe him. A tiny doubt still lingered, however. As she made her way alone back to the dining saloon, she saw the opportunity to clarify the situation. Tommy Gault was descending the stairs in front of her. She hurried to catch up.

“Good morning, Tommy,” she said.

“Oh, hello, Mrs. Gilpatrick,” he replied. “Sleep well?”

“I’ve had better nights.”

“I went out like a log. They serve good booze on this ship.”

“I meant to ask you something, Tommy,” she said casually. “When you searched Jenny Masefield’s cabin, what did you find?” Gault’s eyes darted nervously. “It’s all right,” she assured
him. “Rance told me that you were going in there. What did you find?”

“Nothing,” he admitted. “Nothing at all.”

It was midmorning before Genevieve finally chanced upon Tadu Natsuki. He and his wife were drinking tea in the lounge. They were both delighted to see her again.

“I wanted to ask you a favor,” said Genevieve, sitting beside Natsuki.

“Of course,” he said.

“I wondered if you could possibly translate this for me?” She passed him the slip of paper that Dillman had given her. “It’s an address that I need to have but I can’t make head or tail of it.”

Natsuki grinned. “Neither can I, Miss Masefield.”

“But you speak Japanese, don’t you?”

“Perfectly, but these are Chinese characters.”

“Oh, dear!”

“Simple mistake,” he went on. “You weren’t to know. But you are in luck. I know very little Chinese, but Hisako is an expert. She does translation work for a publisher from time to time. That is why she was so upset by what Father Slattery was saying the other day,” he explained. “The last book she translated into Chinese was about Shinto.” He handed the paper to his wife. “Hisako?”

“I am happy to help,” said Hisako.

Genevieve had thought to bring paper and pencil with her. She handed both to the woman and waited while the latter studied the characters. Hisako’s face puckered.

“I’m sorry if it’s inaccurate,” said Genevieve. “The person who copied it out is not used to writing Chinese characters.”

Hisako smiled tolerantly. “I can see that, Miss Masefield. It just seems an odd address for a young lady like you to have.” Translating it into English, she wrote it down, then handed the paper back. “There you are.”

“Thank you, Mrs. Natsuki. You’re very kind.” She glanced
at the address and blinked in surprise. “I see what you mean,” she said.

Pleased with his discovery, Dillman could not wait to report it to the purser. Mike Roebuck was in his office, locking up the safe. He was intrigued by the latest piece of information, but he still did not find the evidence conclusive enough.

“There has to be something else, George,” he warned. “If I go to the skipper and tell him that all we have are some gun catalogs and a cauliflower ear, he’s not going to authorize us to tamper with sealed cargo.”

“The weapons must be there, Mike. I know it!”

“Find some more proof.”

“How much more do you need?” said Dillman with exasperation. “Mr. Feng saw someone with a cauliflower ear on the orlop deck. It has to have been Tommy Gault. There may be more than one black eye aboard, but I bet he’s got the only cauliflower ear. Somehow, he has a key to the orlop deck. How did he get it?”

“Who knows? There are far too many keys in the wrong hands on this ship.”

“Supposing I search Gault’s cabin and find that key. Is that proof enough?”

“No, George. Besides, I don’t think he’s punch-drunk. Tommy wouldn’t leave something like that hanging about. He’d carry it around with him. We’re on the right track, I know,” he said, “but we need to take just a few more steps along it.”

Dillman moved to the door. “I’ve got an idea,” he said. “See you later.”

“Hold on,” ordered the purser, restraining him with a hand. “When I got back here, there was a note under the door from your partner. She said it’s vital to speak to you as soon as possible. I’m to hold you here until she comes.”

“Did she give any details?”

Roebuck opened a drawer and took out the note. “Read
it for yourself,” he said, passing it to Dillman. “And not just the words. Read between the lines. I smell a crisis.”

“So do I, Mike,” said Dillman, scanning the note. “What’s up, I wonder?”

“Well, she’s still able to write neatly so she hasn’t been trying to punch Tommy Gault in the stomach. Seriously, though,” he went on, “I’m getting worried. I hired the pair of you to catch a smuggler. You’ve survived an attempt on your life and Miss Masefield is playing piano in the lion’s own den.”

“We have to take risks in our business.”

“That’s what Jake Poole said earlier. Look what happened to him.”

There was a tap on the door and Roebuck opened it to let Genevieve in. When she saw Dillman, she gave a gasp of relief. It was only the purser’s presence that stopped him from putting his arms around her.

“What’s happened, Genevieve?” he asked worriedly.

“Lots,” she replied, “but let me tell you about that address you found first. No wonder you had such difficulty copying those Japanese characters, George. They turned out to be Chinese.”

He grinned. “So much for a Western education!”

“I had it translated and found that it’s the address of a firm of gunsmiths in Shanghai.” Dillman flicked a glance at Roebuck. “I wanted to find out more about them, so I went to the library to see if there was any business directory of Shanghai. There wasn’t, unfortunately, but I remembered someone who might be able to help.”

“Who was that?” asked Dillman.

“Willoughby Kincaid. When I went looking for him, of course, he immediately thought that I was finally succumbing to his charms so I had to put him right on that score. However,” she went on, “he does know about guns. I didn’t tell him how I’d come across this address, of course, but I asked him if he knew of any gunsmiths in the Bund in Shanghai.
The first one he talked about was Telge and Schroeter. Apparently, they furnished most of the Chinese flotilla fleet. Then he moved on to this one,” she said, showing the translation to Dillman. “Herzog and Lindenmeier. It’s a much more disreputable firm, the kind of place where you can get any gun you want even though some of the other gunsmiths have exclusive licenses for some makes. Mr. Kincaid told me he was offered a Webley and Scott gun there, yet the sole agents are supposed to be someone on Canton Road, Shanghai.”

The purser was impressed. “What a memory you have for detail!”

“I couldn’t forget the bit about Webley and Scott. They’re an English firm. According to Mr. Kincaid, they’re small-arms manufacturers from Birmingham.”

“We still need a link with Hayashi,” stressed Dillman.

“I’m coming to that,” she explained. “Though the firm of Herzog and Lindenmeier still retains its old name, it was bought out over a year ago by a Japanese company. Mr. Kincaid said there was a branch in Kobe as well.”

“That’s where Hayashi lives,” commented Dillman.

“There are huge profits involved here. The Chinese army is drilling in Western style and equipping itself with all the latest weapons. But that’s only one source of income. The real money, according to Mr. Kincaid, would come from supplying rebel groups who will pay almost anything to get the best guns.”

Dillman read the address on the piece of paper before thrusting it at Roebuck.

“There you are, Mike,” he said. “Do you have enough to go to the captain now?”

“I’m tempted, I must say,” replied the purser.

“Give it a try.”

“I will. Thanks, Miss Masefield. You’ve done wonders.”

He let himself out of the cabin. As soon as he had gone, Dillman put his arms around her and gave her a kiss. The first thing she wanted to know was how he had gotten the bruise on his temple. Playing down the danger, he told her about his
nocturnal visitor. She was very disturbed, but he managed to reassure her. Now that she had passed on her findings, Genevieve had some more awkward news to impart. He waved her to a seat and perched on the desk beside her. She told him about the confrontation with Gilpatrick on the previous night and how she had been forced to present Dillman in order to talk her way out of the situation. He was pleased to hear that she had also maneuvered herself out of the song recital.

“It could be uncomfortable for you,” he observed, “sitting at a piano with a woman whose husband we’re on the verge of arresting. Give the Gilpatricks a wide berth from now on. You were getting too close to the fire.”

“The flames were certainly licking me last night,” she said. “Just think how I felt when Gilpatrick told me you’d been seen going into my cabin.”

“It must have been a sticky moment, Genevieve, but there’s one compensation.”

“Is there?”

“He gave himself away.”

“I’m just sorry that I had to use your name like that.”

“There was nothing else you could do.”

“But it complicates things. How will it look to other people?”