Hell bay, p.16
Hell Bay, page 16
“What if it is the other way around?” I suggested. “Schroeder finds out information and sends it outside by candlelight signal.”
“It’s possible, I suppose, but the two men are an odd combination,” the colonel said.
“Agreed. Where are you keeping Mr. Schroeder?” Barker asked.
“In the cellar, in the linen room.”
“Colonel, you are in charge. May we speak to the prisoner?”
“About that…” Fraser said, looking at the floor. “It was not my wish that you be taken off the investigation. That was Kerry’s doing, along with the Burrells, who seem to fall in with whatever he says. Do not think that I agree with their assessment. In fact, Richard and I decided together to hire you. I’d have spoken, but my position is a secret.”
“I am glad to hear it.”
“In fact, as director of the RUSI, I would like to renegotiate your contract. I would like you to track down this fellow, not only for the sake of the ambassador, but for everyone’s safety.”
“Thank you, Colonel, but I already have a new client.”
Fraser leaned forward in his chair, a bundle of dry sticks in a tweed coat, yet still very much alive and alert.
“Do you, by Jove? Imagine that.”
“However, my duties are very similar to what you proposed. I have been on the case since last night.”
“Good! I didn’t know you and I was rather concerned you might sulk over your treatment.”
“I have spent my entire career ignoring what men such as Kerry or the Burrells think. I see no reason to begin now. Shall we go see Schroeder?”
The director of the Royal United Services rubbed his dry hands together.
“By all means, let’s,” he said.
CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE
We woke Heinrich Schroeder by unlocking the door. He sat up in the cot he was sleeping on and put a hand to his eyes when the colonel turned up the gas. He wore neither a tie, nor braces, in case he tried to do himself a mischief. I would judge him to be approaching forty.
Schroeder was an angular-looking fellow. He possessed a long jaw, high cheekbones, and a tall forehead. All his bones seemed outsized, with a thin layer of skin to hold them together. He had blond, almost colorless hair that didn’t extend down below the tip of his ears. It made him look older than he was. He had blue eyes that looked almost silver in a certain light.
“Schroeder, sit up!” Fraser said to his former valet. “Mr. Barker here wants to ask you some questions.”
“Anything I can do to help,” the man said solemnly. All his features seemed regular, but when they went together, they produced a stern-looking man.
“I understand that you were outside the ambassador’s door,” Barker began, “and that there was a weapon in your pocket. What were you doing there?”
“I wanted to catch a glimpse of him.”
“The man was trying to steal your homeland? Forgive me. I’ve been told a little of your past.”
“Ja. I wanted to look in the face of the man who destroyed my family and my people.”
“And you just happened to be carrying a gun on your person?”
Fraser put the weapon on the table. It was some sort of miniature gun. It was a disc with a very short barrel on one side and a plungerlike trigger on the other. Such a device could contain no more than one bullet and that one of a small caliber. Its purpose was to shoot someone up close, preferably in the soft spots where it could do the most damage. It was an assassin’s pistol.
“I have carried it about since we arrived. I have had it for years. I forgot I carried it.”
“You had no plans, then, to shoot the ambassador?”
“Of course not. If I shot him, there would be no way to escape.”
“You are under no orders from your former government to kill him?”
“I would not. I live in London now. Besides, I am a pacifist.”
Barker smiled. “A pacifist with a pistol?”
“I saw an advertisement for it in a service magazine. ‘Carry it to protect the family you work for,’ it said. A pistol is not only designed to harm. It can protect, as well. The situation we were in warranted that I carry it. I had no intent to harm the French ambassador, I swear it.”
“What do you know of the person shooting at us from the woods?”
“Nothing, sir. I’m as much in the dark as you.”
“Were you familiar with this house before this visit?”
“I have been here before as the colonel’s valet, yes.”
“Have you been helping as a footman?”
“Yes, sir. I have done the work before. Mr. Partridge assigned me to the duties. He said Dr. Anstruther still has some of the poisoned footmen resting in bed.”
“Did you have specific duties assigned to you?”
“No, sir. When the bell was rung by one of the guests, Mr. Rojas and I would see to it. Whichever was the fastest got the work.”
Barker gave a wintry smile. “Which one of you got most of the work?”
Schroeder sat up straighter. “He may be younger, but he is only a Brazilian. He has no concept of tradition and pride in one’s work. He’s a mere pup. He shall only learn by studying a more advanced and better trained servant such as myself.”
“It is fortunate you came along when you did,” my employer said.
“Yes, sir, it is.”
“How came you to work for Colonel Fraser?”
“The usual way. I applied to an agency for servants. Many people in Britain have a prejudice against Germans, but we make excellent servants. We are precise and efficient and we have a fine memory. The colonel was impressed with my background. I don’t know what standards they have in South America, but they must be low. The Brazilian is always lurking about, and speaking to whomever he chooses. He gets by on his charm and youth. If the situation were not so dire, Mr. Rojas would soon find himself packing.”
“He means well,” I said, feeling the need to defend him, since he was not here to defend himself.
“Ja,” Schroeder said. “He does. But he is imprecise. He throws Mr. Kerry’s cases around as if they were a bunch of bananas. A case should be handled gently and efficiently so it lasts for generations.”
“This is all very enlightening, Mr. Schroeder,” Barker said, “but it doesn’t explain why you were going about armed.”
“Of course I am armed, sir. I noticed you are armed. There is an insane person outside firing upon us. All of us are carrying such weapons as we may. None of us want to die and we must protect the women.”
“But you were near the ambassador’s door.”
Schroeder actually jumped from his cot in anger.
“I have been near his door a dozen times every day! So was every other footman. The reason I was stopped was because I am German. No Englishman trusts a German, or a Frenchman or a Russian, for that matter. It is difficult being Alsatian and living in London. Waiters are rude to you. People make jokes about how you pronounce your words. One would never treat an Englishman that way in Berlin or Hamburg. We know how to treat a guest!”
“Where were you when His Lordship was shot?”
“I’m not sure. I was downstairs, either in the kitchen or in my room.” He suddenly stood, very agitated. “I don’t know anything about whoever is shooting at us. I didn’t kill Mr. Burrell. He seemed a fine fellow and did not deserve to die so young.”
“What were you doing in the hall by the ambassador’s room?”
“I was hoping to see the ambassador. I said that!”
“To see him, or to speak to him?”
“Just to see him. I was curious! I wouldn’t have anything to say to such a person.”
“You wouldn’t wish to avenge yourself on the man who signed the treaty giving away your country?”
“It doesn’t matter so much anymore. I have lived in England for many years now. Most of my family is dead.”
He sat down as abruptly as he had stood. He put down his head and ran a hand through his cropped hair.
“Is that the only reason you were in the hall?” Barker continued.
“I wasn’t waving a candle about, if that is what you’re suggesting.”
“I was wondering if you were alone.”
Schroeder rolled his eyes in exasperation. “Sir, I am not a spy. I was not conspiring with anyone!”
“No, but you might have simply been talking to someone.”
“Who?” the colonel asked.
“As Heinrich has admitted, he has been here before. Romances sometimes spring up at house parties, and not merely among the guests.”
“There was no such girl,” he said quickly.
“Ah, but if you were to admit it, you might get her sacked,” I said.
“There was no such girl!”
“Is your valet known to be a lady-killer, Colonel Fraser?”
“I’m blowed. Didn’t know the blighter had it in him.”
“I tell you, there is no such girl!” the valet said, flushing scarlet.
Barker turned to me. Somehow he has gotten into his head that I am an expert in matters of the heart.
“If you had an assignation to meet a girl, why would you bring a pistol?”
I shrugged my shoulders. “Several reasons. If she were frightened, I might show her I could protect her. If I barely knew her, I might wish to appear dangerous, which is romantic. Or I might feign an interest in killing the ambassador for the same reason, an anarchist disguised as a valet. There are all sorts of ploys to impress a young girl.”
“And I suppose you know them all, you rascal,” Barker said.
“Well, you asked. You’re not going to tell Mrs. Ashleigh, are you?”
Barker leaned his head to the side, as if considering the matter.
“Ha!” The colonel chuckled. “My valet is something of a dog. A below-stairs Lothario. Who would have thought?”
“I’m nothing of the kind, sir. I don’t flit from girl to girl, and I don’t romance anyone from our own household. But sooner or later I should like to marry. Before it’s too late, if you take my meaning, sir.”
“Mr. Schroeder,” Barker said. “You must understand that we are trying to catch this killer. Has anything occurred to you or seemed suspicious regarding anyone here that suggests he or she might be colluding with the killer, or has some other motive we need to know about?”
“No, sir.”
That was it. There would be no getting anything out of this one.
“Mr. Schroeder, I hope you understand the penalty for spying in Britain. It is the firing squad. If you are very fortunate, after several years in jail, you might be traded back to Germany for an English spy.”
“I’m not a spy, sir!” Schroeder insisted.
“I am glad to hear it. Of course, you understand we cannot simply take your word for it. I’m afraid you’ll have to remain locked up until the matter is resolved.”
“But there are not enough valets, sir. Who will look after the colonel properly? Certainly not the Brazilian!”
“If you recall anything, please speak to the colonel.”
“Yes, sir.”
We rose, and left the room. Fraser carefully locked the door.
“Did you believe him?” he asked.
“Not a word,” Barker said.
“Nor I.”
It occurred to me that a single but well-armed man was exactly what Miss Olivia Burrell was looking for. I didn’t mind him being locked away.
By then it was after eleven and I was tired. Now, when working for Cyrus Barker, it is never good to be the one to suggest we stop for the night. It’s judged as a sort of moral weakness on my part. On the other hand, he will go on as long as he feels that there is work to be done, which may include working until dawn. He himself would never admit to tiredness, of course. The best course, I’ve found, is to show a willingness to go on while looking as knackered as possible. Yawning is too obvious. Rubbing the forehead every fifteen minutes is always a good bet, as is standing for a few seconds with one’s eyes closed.
“You look tired, lad. Let us stop for the night.”
“Is there something else we could do, sir? Has anything been left undone?”
“Probably, but everything I can think of requires talking to others, and most everyone is abed for the night. We’ll get a good start in the morning.”
“If you say so, sir.”
I crawled into my bed right around midnight and lay watching Barker smoking a final pipe in bed in the dark. I suppose this is a rather hazardous endeavor, but it might lead to a solution in the case, so I did not object, nor did I fall asleep until he had smoked it down to ash. The room was only lit by his tiny brazier of burning tobacco. It occurred to me he had brought a spare.
As I lay I ruminated on the irony of Olivia Burrell’s offer. Diffident as I was, I had tried whenever possible to speak to any eligible woman my age. None had ever offered herself to me, a peach ripe for plucking, so to speak, and now I had turned her down, having recently pledged myself to another. I suppose there were those who would have kept their mouth shut about the courtship to one and the offer to the other. The question I was debating to myself was whether I would have had such scruples before I met Cyrus Barker, or had he influenced me for the better? I rather hoped the first was true, but I could not fully convince myself. One wants to be the best version of oneself. The spirit is willing but, ah, the flesh.
CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO
“Bring me Mr. Rojas,” Barker said, just like that. No “Good morning” or anything. Once awake, Barker is always working at something. I generally need coffee and a crumpet before the old coconut begins to function.
I got out of bed, rubbing my eyes.
“Yes, sir.”
I threw on a change of clothes and tied my shoes. On the one hand the Guv wanted Rojas now. On the other, I represented the agency and must be well groomed. I seized a brush and attacked my hair.
“Back in a moment,” I said, and was off.
I tracked Cesar down in the kitchen. I had no idea how long he had been awake. He always seemed full of energy.
“Thomas, have you come for breakfast? I could bring a tray to your room.”
“No, that won’t be necessary. But Mr. Barker has a few questions for you regarding Mr. Kerry. Could you come up?”
“Si, si. I have a tray to deliver, but I will be there in about five minutes, no?”
“I’ll tell him you are coming.”
In the kitchen they were frying eggs, bacon, and potatoes. Coffee was brewing, and a large pot of tea was on the stove. I debated hanging about for a moment, but Barker seemed a trifle impatient. I went upstairs and said Cesar was coming.
A few minutes later, there was a knock at the door and I opened it.
“How may I help you, Mr. Barker?” Cesar asked, stepping into the room. “Is there something I can bring you?”
“Just information, Mr. Rojas. Have a seat.”
“Aside from helping as a footman, I have been making myself useful to Colonel Fraser, since his valet is detained. Sir, do you know if Mr. Schroeder will be returned to his duties soon?”
“I think it unlikely, sir,” Barker admitted. “Why do you ask?”
“I did not wish to see him get himself into trouble.”
“Did the two of you become friendly during your time here?”
“No, sir. Not particularly. He kept to himself. A very private and formal man he is.”
“He didn’t, for example, show you his pistol?”
“Pistol? No, sir. I had no idea he carried such an engine.”
“Did he leave the room at any time in the evenings?”
“Yes, sir. About ten o’clock for ten minutes. I assumed it was to perform his ablutions.”
“I see. How did he spend his free time? Did he, for example, engage in ciphers or work with puzzles?”
“No, sir. He read when he wasn’t working. He was a student of philosophy: Schopenhauer, Goethe, and Nietzsche.”
“It is not the customary reading list for a valet.”
“Decidedly not, Mr. Barker,” Cesar said. “Philosophy is not of much use for helping a man dress or looking after his suits.”
“How did you come to be a valet yourself?”
“Originally, I was a bookkeeper in Rio de Janeiro, but I was lured to Manaus during the rubber boom. My mother warned me not to go. It is a wild frontier city and wicked. The natives were being exploited and worked to death. The businesses came and went quickly. My last business failed, and I was without a situation, with little money to get home. I answered an advertisement for a manservant, though I had no experience in that line. Mr. Kerry hired me.”
“And what sort of employer is he?” Barker asked.
“A demanding one, if I must be perfectly honest. But he pays well, and he said he might take me to Europe. I had always wanted to see Europe, Mr. Barker.”
“Mr. Kerry was business partners with Mr. Pelham and Mr. Hillary, I understand. Did you ever come in contact with these two gentlemen?”
“Yes, sir. Mr. Hillary ran the daily operations of the Paititi Rubber Company, Mr. Kerry oversaw the labor camp, and Mr. Pelham gathered investors and buyers for the raw rubber. Each to his own strengths was how Mr. Kerry described it.”
“Would you say that Mr. Kerry has exaggerated his duties here? He implied that the entire company was his.”
Cesar shrugged his shoulders, and restraightened his spectacles. “I suppose it is an exaggeration. I had the impression the company was owned equally among the three partners.”
“You are a former bookkeeper. In your impression, was the company doing well?”
“Very well, sir. South America has a monopoly on rubber, and there are new uses for it every day. Bicycle tires, for example. But the company was being sold. Slave labor was made illegal last year.”
“What sort of fellow is Mr. Hillary?”
“Very capable, I understand. He has a good head for business.”
“You and Mr. Kerry came here alone. The other owners stayed behind?”
“Yes, Mr. Kerry said he had earned a holiday. He had not seen his family in years.”
“What does Mr. Hillary look like?”
