“He was last seen alive around one o’clock Sunday morning. The police figure he was in the holds and suffocated by 8:00 A.M. at the latest. So between one in the morning and eight in the morning someone bonked him on the head and got him onto a Great Lakes freighter. The police have a guard on duty at the entrance to the Port. Not that many people enter the Port that late at night, and they have a pretty good list of who came in. I’m sure that they’ve been through those people’s cars quite thoroughly. If one of them had driven Phillips’s body into the Port, they’d have nailed him for it. But they haven’t made an arrest.”
“Maybe the murderer brought him on board in a plastic bag and no blood got on his car … Was Grafalk at the Port that night?”
“He didn’t drive down there.”
“What’d he do—fly?”
“Don’t think so—a helicopter would be pretty noisy.”
“Then how did he get there?”
“Good heavens, Roger, I’m ashamed of you. You come from this island country, famous for four centuries of naval prowess. It ought to be the first thing to leap to your mind.”
His brow creased. “By boat? You must be joking.” He thought it over. “I suppose he could. But can you prove he did?”
“I don’t know. The evidence is so circumstantial—it’s going to be hard to sell people on it. For instance, you. Do you buy Grafalk as master criminal?”
He gave a half smile. “I don’t know. We proved the figures on Grafalk this afternoon. And yet—that’s a big jump to stuffing someone into a freighter to die … What about Bledsoe?”
I shook my head. “Bledsoe was up in the Soo and his plane was down in Chicago. Not only that, someone sent his plane back down here in such a way as to implicate him for a different murder.”
I wondered what the waiters would do if I curled up on the plush cushion and went to sleep. I yawned. “The trouble is, if I can’t convince you, when you believe the financial evidence, I know I’ll never convince the cops enough to swear out a search warrant. It’s a big step, going to look at a rich man’s yacht. They have to be real convinced before they do something like that.”
I leaned back in the seat and closed my eyes, still holding the wineglass. “He can’t get away with it,” I muttered to myself. But it looked as though he might. Even with blowing up the Lucella, because nobody knew where the depth charges came from. If only I had evidence, someone who’d see Grafalk and Phillips at his boat Sunday morning—or some bloodstains on the foredeck of Grafalk’s yacht.
I opened my eyes at Ferrant. “I need to get some proof. And the cards are not going to be stacked all his way. They just can’t be. Even if he is as rich as Rockefeller.”
On this dramatic statement I got up from the table and walked with careful dignity to the front door. The ma?tre d’h?tel also gave me a scornful glance. Not only can women not appreciate the great vintages, they swill them disgustingly and get revoltingly drunk.
“Thank you, my good man,” I said as he held the door open for me. “Your contempt for women will bring you more pleasure than any paltry tip I could give you. Good night.”
In the lobby of the hotel was a pay phone. I walked over to it, carefully avoiding the Greek columns haphazardly dotting the floor, and tried to call the Great Lakes Naval Training Station. The operator and I went a few rounds before I got my meaning across and she found a number for me. The phone rang twenty times or so, but nobody answered. A grandfather clock by the front door showed that it was close to midnight.
Ferrant was standing nearby holding my handbag, which I’d left at the table.
“Who’s defending the country at midnight?” I demanded as I took my bag from him. “If nobody answers the phone, how will they ever know the Russians are attacking?”
Ferrant took my arm. “You know, Vic, I think you should wait till morning to get your proof.”
“If I wait until morning he’ll get away with it,” I protested stubbornly. “Get me a cab!” I yelled at the doorman.
“Where are you going?” Ferrant demanded.
“Back to my car. Then out to Grafalk’s boat. I’m going to get proof.”
The doorman looked at us uncertainly.
“Are you getting my cab?” I called at him. He shrugged and went outside with his whistle.
Ferrant followed me into the chilly night. He kept trying to take my arm and I kept pushing him aside. When the cab came I climbed in and told the driver to take me to my car.
“Yeah, well, where is your car?”
“In the garage,” I mumbled, and fell asleep.
27
On Board the Dragon Ship
When I woke up, my head pounded uncomfortably and I felt sick. Bright sunlight was coming in through a window, blinding me. That didn’t make sense—I sleep with heavy drapes pulled across my windows. Someone must have broken in during the night and opened my curtains.
Holding my head with one hand, I sat up. I was on a couch in a strange room. My shoes, purse, and jacket were lying on a glass-topped coffee table next to me with a note.
Vic
I couldn’t get you to wake up long enough to tell me your address, so I brought you back here to the Hancock. I hope you find your proof.
R.F.