Рауль Уитфилд - The Virgin Kills

Doctor Vollmer was looking at Mick with his dark eyes narrowed. He said:

“You're a strong man, O'Rourke.”

Mick took his big hands away from the deck rail and let them swing at his sides. He nodded, and slitted his eyes on Vollmer's.

“A little while ago you said I was big. What's the line, Doc?”

Vollmer said grimly: “Eric Vennell wasn't exactly weak.”

Mick grunted. “Oh, that's all it is,” he muttered. “You're trying to get across the fact that I swung something against the back of Vennell's head.”

Volmer's voice held protest. “Of course I'm not, Mr. O'Rourke,” he contradicted. “I understand that you were his bodyguard.”

Mick nodded. “Just now and then,” he explained.

Coach Mears was looking at the big fellow. But he didn't speak. I said to Crozier, who was staring over the rail:

“How did you learn Vennell used morphine?”

“Doctor Bryce told me,” he replied. “He was his personal physician, and he didn't feel it was necessary to tell me while Vennell was alive.”

Mick said: “Not even after he knew that Babe Harron had been morphined?”

Dr. Vollmer's eyes met mine. “Sometimes Mr. O'Rourke is stupid, and other times he is very observant,” he said with sarcasm.

I nodded agreement. “Aren't we all?” I asked.

Mick said with serious expression: “It's my operation that causes that.”

Vollmer raised his eyebrows. “What sort of operation?”

The big fellow shook his head. I watched Tim Burke and Sonia come along the deck. Burke was walking with his head down, and Sonia was talking to him, with her head close to his. Their arms were linked.

Mick said: “One doesn't talk about one's operation, Doc.”

Crozier looked at me narrowly. Mick O'Rourke moved along the deck, toward Burke and Sonia. Coach Mears watched him go, then faced me.

“Unusual type, Connors,” he said. “Changes his style of talk a lot.”

I smiled. “When he talks highbrow, he's kidding,” I said. “O'Rourke is just a big bum, quick on the trigger and not afraid of anything.”

Crozier said: “And he's one of the persons we can't place, when Vennell was battered down in his suite.”

I shrugged. Coach Mears spoke thoughtfully.

“Is it possible that Vennell could have fallen, struck the back of his head against something?” he asked.

Crozier said grimly: “Almost anything seems to be possible aboard the Virgin. But it would have to have been a pretty hard fall—and we didn't find blood on anything except the wicker chair against which his head rested. The chair could hardly have caused such a wound. And he cried out—for help.”

I watched Mick stop near Burke and Sonia, saw the girl lean back from the rail and turn a pale face toward him. A plane droned overhead.

I said: “You haven't found who shoved over the main switch, or who fired the other shot?”

Crozier shook his head. “There's a switch box and fuses, out in the corridor wall less than twenty feet from Vennell's suite,” he stated. “It's an emergency box—but there isn't anything mysterious about it. The main switch was thrown over there—it cut off the power in the generator. The one who murdered Vennell could easily have thrown that switch.”

I said: “But we were going toward Vennell's suite, and Mick was coming the other way.”

Crozier smiled grimly: “Was he?” he asked. “In any case, there's a narrow corridor running to the port-side deck from the entrance to Vennell's suite. Nobody was coming in that way.”

Coach Mears said: “But we were outside there—Tim, Doc, and I. We weren't exactly opposite the door that leads to the deck, but we could see it.”

“Not after the lights went out,” Crozier muttered. “And you've said you couldn't see Tim Burke—after they went out. Or Vollmer, here.”

The crew doctor said: “I started for the main saloon entrance, then stopped. It was very dark—the sudden contrast after the deck lights went out.”

Crozier looked at the crew coach. “And you say Burke was right beside you—you could hear him breathing.”

Mears nodded. “And I could hear that big fellow calling that he was coming. Then I headed in the general direction of the saloon entrance. When I got inside, there was a great deal of confusion.”

Crozier said: “And you've stated several times that Tim Burke was right behind you.”

The crew coach nodded. “I couldn't see him there, but he spoke to me as we neared the saloon door. He said: 'That was Vennell's voice.' That was all.”

Doc Vollmer was shaking his head. “Whoever killed Vennell knew about that light switch,” he said. “And that means it was some person familiar with the boat.”

I nodded. Crozier nodded very slowly. The coach looked toward the boathouse.

“It seems to me,” he said quietly, “that it looks as though we've got to get the one who morphined Babe Harron first. And I hate to think that man was one of the boys—”

He drew a deep breath, was silent. There were footfalls, light and swift, along the deck. The sound of the plane engine, overhead, almost drowned them. And then Sonia Vreedon was beside Crozier. She was excited; there was color in her cheeks.

“Mr. Crozier!” Her voice was excited, too. “I've just thought of something—something important! I want you to hear it—”

Crozier said a little harshly: “Something that will prove Tim Burke innocent?”

Sonia's eyes met mine. “I hope so!” she said simply. “It's important.”

Crozier looked at me and smiled with his eyes slightly narrowed.

“Anything that will give Burke a break—that's very important,” he agreed.

Doctor Vollmer said softly: “I feel sure that it wasn't Burke. Or any of the boys.”

Sonia flashed the crew doctor a grateful glance. She looked squarely at Crozier.

“I'd like to tell you what I've thought about—and Mr. Risdon can listen, too, if you think he should. I'm sure it will help—sure!”

Her voice was steady and enthusiastic. Crozier nodded.

“We've gone over things pretty carefully,” he said. “We haven't got anywhere in the Vennell murder, though I'd hold Mick O'Rourke on suspicion, I think. But in the case of Babe Harron—Tim Burke is—”

He stopped, shrugged. Mears said:

“There's strong circumstantial evidence against him, Miss Vreedon.”

Sonia said in a voice not quite so steady:

“But you've got to listen to me—you've got to!”

Crozier shook his head. “I haven't got to,” he said a little wearily. “You're prejudiced in Burke's favor. I haven't got to do anything. But I will listen to you”

Sonia Vreedon drew a short breath, smiled just a bit. She said:

“Now, please!”

Crozier nodded. The plane engine's roar was becoming a drone in the distance. The detective turned away, but Sonia stood still, her head tilted a little, her eyes on the plane. Then she turned away, too.

I looked at the plane, and when I looked away from it, Coach Mears was shaking his head, and Doc Vollmer was rubbing stubby fingers together and looking down at the deck surface.

“She's a fighter—that girl,” Mears said in a low tone.

“It's simple enough—she's the daughter of a brilliant lawyer,” Doc Vollmer stated.

I reached for a cigarette. “It's simpler than that,” I muttered. “She's in love with Tim Burke.”

Just before noon a big seaplane circled over the Virgin several times, glided for the water, and taxied near the yacht. It was a hot, clear day, and most of us were aft, under the awning. Tim Burke was nervous; he moved round a lot. And Risdon watched him closely. Burke had nice eyes and a swell pair of shoulders. His face and hands were burned almost black by the sun. I tried twice to get him talking, but didn't succeed. The only person he talked with was Sonia, and he looked at her more than he talked to her.