Нэнси Пикард - Ellery Queen’s Mystery Magazine. Vol. 128, No. 6. Whole No. 784, December 2006

“Aren’t you working security?”

“I get time off. Are you sharing a cabin with someone?”

She shook her head. “All to myself. It’s one of the perks of the job.”

“Suppose I come by your stateroom tonight around ten when I’m off duty. We could go up to the Crow’s Nest on the top deck for a nightcap.”

She considered the offer. “Ring my room when you’re off. If I’m free I’ll meet you up there. I’m in 556.”

Father Ullman wasn’t the only priest who’d come aboard the Dawn Neptune without casual clothes. After dinner Susan saw a second one, about the same age as Father Ullman but with thinner hair and more of a paunch. She approached him as he was leaving the dining room. “Pardon me, Father.”

He turned toward her with a smile. “Yes, my dear?”

“I’m Susan Holt from the Mayfield’s shop here on board. We’ve had some priests stop in to look over our sport shirts. I thought I’d mention it in case you wanted to be a bit more casual on shipboard.”

“Well, thank you, young lady. I’m Father Dempsey from Little Rock. I might take you up on that suggestion.”

“You’ve got quite a group going to Rome.”

“This is just a small contingent. We have another couple hundred flying over. I preferred this more leisurely method of travel, even if it is more expensive.”

“The Dawn Neptune is quite a ship,” Susan said.

“That it is! I already had the tour of the ship’s bridge and met the captain.”

“Captain Mason. We had some meetings with him last month about opening our shop. You’ll see him again at tomorrow night’s dinner. It’s more of a dress-up affair and he’ll be greeting everyone at the door. They’ll even take your picture with him, if you like. That’s the way these things usually work.”

Father Dempsey smiled at her. “This isn’t your first cruise.”

“I’ve been on a couple for pleasure, but this is a working one. I have to write a report on Mayfield’s first shipboard shop.”

They chatted awhile longer and then Father Dempsey went off with one of the other priests who wore a sport shirt with his black trousers. Susan checked in at the Mayfield’s shop and found that business was still brisk. Lisa Mandrake was waiting on customers while one of her assistants was restocking the selection of bathing suits. There’d already been a crowd at the ship’s pool.

She was back in her stateroom well before ten and when Sid Cromwell phoned about that drink she was more than willing to join him. The Crow’s Nest was on the very top passenger deck, just below the ship’s bridge. It afforded a spectacular forward view of the ship’s progress. Even at night there was often something to see. “Look there!” Sid said while they waited for their drinks. “That’s lightning.”

It was indeed, and for the next twenty minutes, over their drinks, they were treated to a rare view of a thunderstorm at sea, growing constantly closer until it veered off to the south and out of sight. “You don’t see those every day,” Susan commented.

“I arranged it just for your first night,” Sid told her with a grin.

“How about you? Are you keeping busy on security matters?”

“Not yet. That usually comes around the third or fourth day, when the close environment of the ship starts fraying nerves and causing altercations. Of course, this is the Dawn Neptune’s first transatlantic voyage and things might be different.”

“What about robberies?”

“Ships usually have them, but no more so than a big Manhattan hotel. I know your Mayfield’s shop has closed-circuit TV to discourage shoplifters.”

Susan nodded. “I suspect shoplifting might be less of a problem on cruise ships. All they could do with their loot would be to take it back to their stateroom where a search might uncover it. And just about everyone shares a cabin with a friend or relative who might become suspicious.”

Cromwell nodded. “I have my own room in the crew quarters on the lower deck, but it’s pretty small. Yours is probably larger.”

“Umm,” Susan replied, sipping her drink. She wasn’t about to invite Sid Cromwell to her room for any reason. He was a casual acquaintance, a nice guy but nothing more. She wondered if agreeing to this drink had been a mistake.

At that moment the beeper on his belt came to life. He glanced at the text message and stood up. “They need me for something. Sorry to cut this short. I was enjoying it.”

“Another time,” she said with a smile.

In the morning, on her way down to breakfast, Susan stopped to check on the shop. Lisa Mandrake and the other girls were already there, an hour before opening, restocking the shelves and changing the displays around. It was Lisa who said, “Did you hear the news? One of the priests got killed last night!”

“What?”

“Yes. The priest he was sharing the room with found his body.”

“Are you saying someone killed him? Murdered him?”

“That’s what I hear.”

Susan hurried down to breakfast, hoping to learn more. Across the room Sid Cromwell was deep in conversation with Captain Mason and two other ship’s officers. When he left them, she caught up with him as he headed for the door. “What’s this I hear about a priest being killed?”

“Hi, Susan. It’s true. That was the page that interrupted our drink last night. His cabin mate came back to their room around ten-thirty and found him stabbed to death on the bed. This is a terrible thing for the cruise line. They’re trying to hush it up, but the word is spreading fast.”

He kept walking as he spoke and she hurried to keep up with him. “Who’s in charge of the investigation?”

“I guess I am, for the moment. Crimes on the high seas fall under admiralty law. If we were in port, the local police would be summoned, but for the moment it’s up to me to investigate and take statements. Since the victim is an American citizen, we’ve notified the FBI. They’ll have an agent meet the ship in the Azores, but that’s still two days away.” He was walking a few steps ahead of her but suddenly he stopped. “Come to think of it, maybe you should have a look at the stateroom. The body’s been removed.”

“Why should I—?”

“You may have met him. We found a Mayfield’s bag in the room. Looks like he was one of your customers.”

Susan felt a chill run through her. “What was his name?”

Cromwell consulted his notepad. “Father John Ullman, from Omaha.”

She nodded. “I was there yesterday when he came in for a sport shirt.”

“Come along. Maybe when you see his things you’ll remember something about him that could help us.”

The staterooms for the priests had been grouped more or less together in the 600 numbers. She remembered Father Ullman saying he was in 675. When they reached it, another man wearing black pants and a sport shirt was standing outside.

“Are you finished with the room now?” he asked. “I spent the rest of the night sleeping on deck.”

“Sorry, Father. Susan, this is Father Stillwell. He found the body.”

She introduced herself and asked, “Did you share the room with Father Ullman?”

“That’s right. We just met yesterday. I have a parish in Spokane.”

Sid Cromwell unlocked the stateroom door. “I had the room dusted for fingerprints, but I expect the FBI will want to check it over in the Azores. I’ll arrange another room for you, Father.”

“I hope so,” he muttered. “I don’t think I’d want to sleep in there.”

“What did you do when you found him?” Susan asked.

“I... I phoned for help and gave him the last rites. It was terrible. I’d only known him a few hours, but it was terrible.”