West of Guam (63 page)

The Island detective said: “No doubt then that it has importance.”

The messenger smiled and nodded, and left him alone. Tearing open the envelope Jo looked down at the printed words.

KINDLY MEET CHINA MARU AT QUARANTINE STOP SHOW THIS TO PROPER AUTHORITIES AND DO NOT FAIL ME STOP MY LIFE ENDANGERED BECAUSE OF VALUABLE POSSESSION STOP BARON JACOBI

Jo Gar narrowed his gray eyes as he refolded the slip of paper, placed it within the envelope again.

“So,” he murmured meditatively. “A female suspects a male—and a male suspects—”

He hesitated, beckoning to the driver of a
caleso
as he reached the street.

“—and a male suspects,
perhaps,
a female,” he half whispered.

When the
caleso
driver had shrilled his pony into the proper position near the curb, Jo Gar climbed inside the carriage.

“The dock of the Quarantine steamer,” he instructed. “I realize that it is ten squares distant, but still I should like to arrive there within an hour.”

The
caleso
driver informed him in Tagalog that his pony was very fast, perhaps the fastest in Manila. He elaborated on the speed of the animal for minutes, as the pony ambled towards the Escolta. But Jo Gar was thinking of the
China Maru,
and of Virginia Crale—and of the man from Shanghai. Once, he closed his slanted eyes and chuckled. Sadi Ratan would be surprised to see him board the Quarantine steamer.

Near the Manila Hotel the driver twisted his head and stated that the heat was not good for his cough. He would prefer to be in Baguio, where there was mountain coolness. Jo Gar lighted a brown-paper cigarette. The driver observed that he was afraid he would not live long. Jo Gar said tonelessley:

“Many people fear death—most of them are fools.”

The driver said: “Most of them are poor, like myself.”

Jo Gar did not reply. Neither Virginia Crale nor Baron Jacobi were poor. Each feared death. He wondered, as he pulled on the cigarette, if they were fools. He decided, as the Quarantine dock came into sight, that they were not.

The lieutenant of Manila police, Sadi Ratan, stood aft on the deck of the
Luzon
as Jo Gar strolled up the gangway. His back was to the Island detective. Jo went forward and seated himself. When the Quarantine steamer got under way he dozed in the shade of the superstructure. After about twenty minutes the sloping island of Cavite was to the port and the
China Maru
was a half mile ahead. She was a big boat, one of the newest in service. Jo lighted a brown-paper cigarette, rose and went aft.

Sadi Ratan turned, facing him suddenly. The lieutenant’s perfectly uniformed figure stiffened.

“I thought that Miss Crale was no longer a client of yours, Señor Gar,” he stated coldly.

“That is so,” Jo replied quietly. “A different matter takes me aboard the
China Maru.
”

Sadi Ratan smiled mockingly. “It is one thing to refuse a client’s orders—and another to see the Manila police interested, perhaps.”

The Island detective shook his head slowly. “I am not interested in Miss Crale, Lieutenant.”

Sadi Ratan shrugged, turned away from Jo. The
Luzon
steamed on, nearing the big liner. She came around in a circle, astern of the
China Maru.
Quarantine officials and few newspapermen lined the port rail. Passengers on the big vessel looked down at the small one steaming in towards the boarding ladder. Jo Gar shaded his eyes with a brown palm and looked outward and upward.

He did not see Miss Crale. But the figure of Baron Jacobi was easily seen. The baron was waving his right arm slowly from side to side. He was hatless, and his blond hair was as ruffled as ever. As the
Luzon
steamed close to the big boat Jo’s keen eyes spotted the red tie that Jacobi usually wore—it stood out clearly against the white of his shirt and suit.

The Island detective waved a hand slowly, but the baron turned aside and Jo saw the figure of a deck steward at the rail, beside Jacobi. He was evidently saying something; the baron vanished from the rail. The steward stood for a few seconds, looking down at the Quarantine steamer, then he, too, vanished.

A voice from behind Jo said: “You understand, of course, that the police have been called into this case.”

Jo Gar turned slowly, looked into the dark eyes of Lieutenant Ratan.

“Case?” he said gently. “Oh—of course. Miss Crale’s life has been threatened.”

Sadi Ratan frowned. He drew a deep breath.

“I am not fooled, Señor Gar,” he said nastily.

Jo smiled.

“It is good that you use the present tense,” he replied. “Often one is wise to neglect thoughts of the past.”

He bowed slightly and moved towards the group forward, waiting to board the big boat. The
Luzon
scraped against the
China Maru’s
boarding deck. As Jo moved forward the form of Sadi Ratan reached his side. He was brushed back as the police lieutenant called: “Step aside, please—it is a police matter.”

The Island detective chuckled. Hennigger, of the Manila
News,
grinned at him and pointed a thumb towards the back of Lieutenant Ratan.

“Murder or suicide?” he asked.

Jo Gar smiled. “A serious crime, clearly,” he replied. “It is a police matter.”

Hennigger grunted, regarded Jo with narrowed, blue eyes.

“What you doing here?” he asked.

Jo Gar shrugged. “The Bay is cooler than the Escolta,” he replied.

The reporter swore. “The ear is quicker than the eye,” he returned.

“Maybe you’ve heard something I haven’t seen.”

They moved to the boarding deck and climbed the gangway to a lower deck of the big boat. Jo said:

“I must see if my third cousin, Rinaldo, is still a member of the crew.”

He moved away from Hennigger, who nodded his head and said with sarcasm: “That’s why I came aboard—my grandmother is bringing her father over from Nagasaki.”

Jo Gar turned and said seriously: “I trust they have had an easy voyage.”

He went upstairs to Deck B, reached the purser’s desk. The dapper Chinese showed white teeth.

“The cabin of Baron Jacobi?” Jo said questioningly. “I have been asked to come to him.”

The Chinese said: “It is A Deck—Room 17.”

Jo Gar smiled, thanked the purser. He climbed a broader flight of steps, reached A Deck. Glancing into the Grand Saloon he did not see Jacobi. After some difficulty he reached the corridor leading to Room 17, an outside room. He moved along the corridor, halted, rapped on the door.

There was no answer. Jo Gar rapped again. The deep-toned whistle of the
China Maru
sounded in a short blast. There was engine vibration. Jo knocked a third time, then turned the knob of the door with his left hand. The door opened inward—he stepped into the cabin.

When he saw the body on the bed, Jo stood very still. Baron Jacobi was lying on his back—there was red on his lips and chin. His eyes were opened, staring up at the ceiling. One arm hung over the edge of the bed—the hand of the other, with the fingers curved, clutched at his red tie. A chair overturned—Jo’s eyes moved about the cabin, found nothing else disturbed.

After a few seconds he moved nearer the bed. The cabin was large—the bed was a good-size one. Jo said softly:

“A little more than five minutes—from the time he left the rail—until I entered the room. Perhaps—”

His body straightened, grew tense as a scream from somewhere beyond the corridor reached him. It was the scream of a woman. It came into the cabin of the dead man once—then again. There were men’s voices, and the sound of shoes beating against the corridor linoleum. The Island detective stood almost motionless, looking down at the body of Baron Jacobi. A voice reached him from the far end of the corridor.

“Steward—get a doctor! Cabin 29 hurry!”

Jo turned his body slowly, went to a small desk near a deck window. He looked down at a check; it was on the Bank of Manila. It had not been filled in. A corner was folded—on the back of the fold there was small handwriting. Jo leaned forward and read: “Crale—29—port.”

A voice beyond the room said loudly: “Lieutenant Ratan came aboard—get him, Kyoshi!”

Jo Gar left the desk, went to the opposite side of the bed. He placed brown fingers carefully in the dead man’s thick, blond hair, lifted the head. The wound was in the neck—it was not a large one.

Jo said softly: “Knife—nape of the neck, just above the spinal column. Very decent job.”

He released his grip on the dead man’s hair. The knife was not in the room. There were hurrying footfalls in the corridors beyond as Jo moved about, searching with his eyes, touching nothing.

After a few seconds he left the cabin, went along the narrow corridor to the main one, leaving the door of 17 half open. Several stewards stood near a corridor running off to the port side. Jo asked:

“Is Cabin 29 down there?”

One of the stewards nodded. The Island detective moved along the corridor. Twenty-nine was an outside cabin, located in the corridor as Jacobi’s had been located in the other. Several men stood near the opened door; they stepped aside as Jo reached them.

An officer of the vessel came out. He was Chinese; short and deep-chested.

“It is very bad,” he stated in stiff English.

“It is her head—she has been struck heavily.” Jo Gar said: “Miss Crale?”

The officer nodded and moved towards the main corridor. Jo Gar went into the cabin. Virginia Crale was lying on her bed; a stewardess held red stained cloths over her forehead. The room was in good order.

Jo looked at the frightened eyes of the stewardess, who was Chinese and pretty.

“It was you who screamed?” he asked quietly.

The stewardess nodded. “I very frightened,” she said shakily. “I come here—door come open—I come in. She lying on floor—very hurt.”

Jo nodded, smiled a little. “Why did you come here?” he asked steadily.

The stewardess ran the back of her right hand across her lips.

“She ring for me,” she said, and made a gesture towards a wall near the cabin door.

Jo Gar went to the wall and looked at a white button. Red was on it, and the wall around it was dabbed with red. As he faced the stewardess again Sadi Ratan came into the cabin. He halted a few feet inside, stared at the figure on the bed.

“Dead?” he asked quickly.

Two men entered behind him, one in the uniform of the ship’s doctor. He beckoned for the stewardess to move aside, lifted the cloths, bending over Virginia Crale. Sadi Ratan turned his trim figure, looked around the cabin. He straightened a little as he saw Jo.

“Life is filled with a number of things, Lieutenant,” the Island detective stated pleasantly.

Sadi Ratan scowled. “How long have you been here?” he demanded.

Jo Gar shrugged.

“The screams of the stewardess attracted my attention,” he replied. “I have been here perhaps a minute.”

Sadi Ratan continued to scowl. “Where were you when the stewardess screamed?” he asked.

The ship’s doctor straightened. “Unconscious—serious brain concussion, clearly. We must remove her to the ship’s hospital immediately.”

Lieutenant Ratan said: “She will be able to make a statement soon, Doctor?”

The doctor looked impassively at the lieutenant. “Who can say?” he replied. “She may be unconscious for hours—it may be necessary to operate. That must be done ashore. She may never regain consciousness. A heavy blow—a terrible blow.”

He went swiftly from the cabin. Sadi Ratan looked around the floor. Jo Gar said:

“I looked for the weapon—it does not seem to be in the cabin.”

The deep-chested officer came into the cabin again. Sadi Ratan said:

“I am Lieutenant Sadi Ratan, of the Manila police.” He gestured towards Jo. “This is Señor Gar, a private detective. Miss Crale requested him to meet the boat, stating her life was in danger. Señor Gar refused. She then radioed the police and I have come.”

Jo Gar said quietly: “Miss Crale has been worried often in the past. I considered her appeal merely the usual fear of danger.”

Sadi Ratan said grimly: “You were wrong.”

Jo Gar looked at the ship’s officer. “We are steaming to the dock?” The officer nodded. Sadi Ratan wiped his brown face with a handkerchief. The cabin was very hot.