Richard Marsten: Murder in the navy

“Yes,” Norton said briefly.

“I’m Ensign Le Page, officer of the deck.”

“How do you do?” Norton said.

“The Captain is expecting you, gentlemen. I’ll tell him you’re here.”

“Thank you.”

Le Page picked up a hand phone resting on the platform amidships. He said something into the phone and then turned to face the two agents.

“He’ll see you now. He’s in the wardroom.” Le Page snapped his fingers at the gunner’s mate who was standing watch with him as messenger. “Take these gentlemen to the wardroom,” he said.

The gunner’s mate nodded and began walking forward. Norton snorted and followed him, aware of the inquisitive eyes on him. Dickason looked up at the stack, and then at the mast, and then at the bridge, like a sight-seer in New York City. The messenger took them into a passageway and knocked on a door.

“Yes?”

“OD asked me to bring these men to you, Captain,” the gunner’s mate said.

“Show them in,” Commander Glenburne said from behind the closed door.

The gunner’s mate opened the door and then stood at attention while Norton and Dickason stepped inside. He closed the door behind them, and Glenburne rose and extended a tanned hand. He was a man of about fifty-two, tall and lean, with a complexion burned brown from years of standing on an open bridge. His grip was firm, and Norton had never liked these manly characters with the too-firm grips.

“Gentlemen,” Glenburne said, “glad you arrived. Have a seat, won’t you?”

Norton and Dickason made themselves comfortable at the long table.

“Coffee?” Glenburne asked.

Dickason seemed ready to say, “Yes,” but Norton replied, “No,” for both of them.

“Have a nice trip?” Glenburne asked.

“We came by plane,” Norton answered.

“One of our Navy planes, eh? Got to hand it to—”

“The Army brought us,” Norton said.

“Oh.” Glenburne cleared his throat. “Well, I suppose we’d better get right down to business. You know all about the dead nurse, I suppose.”

“Yes,” Norton said.

“Hell of a thing. Haven’t got enough worries, they have to leave a corpse in my radar shack.” Glenburne shook his head. “Well, you boys will clear all that up.”

“Yes,” Norton said.

“I’ve already appointed an investigation board,” Glenburne smiled. “Figured we’d snoop around and see what—”

“Have you restricted all your men to the ship?” Norton asked.

“Why, no. I mean, that is, it never occurred to me. Do you suppose—”

“If one of them is a murderer, it might be a good idea,” Norton said dryly.

“Yes. Yes, of course. I’ll — I’ll do that. I’ll have that done at once.” The Captain walked to a phone and connected himself with the quarter-deck. “Le Page, get me the Executive Officer. Send him to the wardroom. Get me Masters, too, will you?” He listened for a moment, and then replaced the phone. “Masters is my communications officer. He’ll take you to the radar shack, show you where the girl was found. I imagine you’ll want to get started right away.”

“Yes,” Norton said.

“I’ll ask Mike... Reynolds, my executive officer, to restrict the men to the ship. I’m certainly glad you gentlemen are here. My investigation board hasn’t—”

“Captain,” Norton said, “I hope this board of yours isn’t going to get underfoot.”

“What?” Glenburne asked.

“Your investigation board. A lot of amateurs dickering in murder are liable to screw up the works. Do you understand, sir?”

“Well, yes. But...”

“You can have your board, if you like. Please don’t misunderstand me. I sincerely hope, though, that they’ll confine their investigation to—”

“I had hoped they could be of assistance. After all—”

“ Con -fine their investigation,” Norton said over Glenburne’s voice, “to a compilation of the facts for the ship’s record. In other words, we’ll welcome evidence, but we don’t want them working at cross purposes with us.”

“I see.”

A discreet knock sounded on the wardroom door.

“Come in,” Glenburne said harshly.

Mike Reynolds opened the door and stepped into the room. “You sent for me. Captain?” he said.

“Yes. I want you to restrict all the men to the ship, starting at once. Cancel liberty for all watch sections.”

“Yes, sir,” Reynolds said.

“Captain,” Norton said.

“Yes?”

“That order includes officers, too, I hope.”

“Officers?”

“I assumed that ‘men,’ in Navy jargon, means ‘enlisted men.’ I want the officers restricted, too.”

“But surely you don’t think—”

“Captain, until I know better, even you may have killed that nurse.”

“I see.” Glenburne forced a smile that didn’t quite come off. “All right, Mike,” he said. “Restrict all officers and men to the ship.” He turned to Norton. “I hope this will not include my investigation board.”

Norton shrugged. “All right, give your board free rein.”

“Thank you. Take care of that, will you, Mike?”

“Yes, sir.” Reynolds walked to the door and opened it, catching Masters in the act of raising his fist to knock. Glenburne spotted Masters and said, “Come in, Chuck, come in.” Masters stood to one side while Reynolds stepped into the passageway. He winked at Reynolds and then went into the wardroom, closing the door behind him.

“Chuck.” Glenburne said, “Mr. Norton and Mr. Dickason, the FBI men we’ve been expecting. Gentlemen, this is Mr. Masters, my communications officer.” Glenburne cleared his throat. “He is also a member of the investigation board.”

Norton took Masters’ hand. “How do you do?”

Masters returned the grip, and then shook hands with Dickason. “Gentlemen,” he said.

“I told these gentlemen you’d show them the radar shack, Chuck. You can do that right now, if you like. That is, I have nothing further to say.” The Old Man looked miffed, and Masters wondered what had happened before he’d arrived.

“Yes, sir,” he said. “If you’ll come with me, gentle—”

“Oh, yes,” Glenburne said, “one other thing. If you’d like, I can find quarters for you on the ship. I’m sure some of my officers wouldn’t mind—”

“We’ll stay in town, thank you,” Norton said.

“I see.” Glenburne cleared his throat. “Well, good luck.”

“Thank you,” Norton said. He followed Masters and Dickason out of the wardroom and into the passageway.

“Right up this ladder,” Masters said over his shoulder. The FBI men followed soundlessly. When they were in the passageway outside C.I.C., Masters said, “This is the radar shack. We’ve kept it locked since the day of the murder.”

“The body’s been removed, hasn’t it?”

“Yes. But we chalked the deck for you. So you’ll know where she was lying. We haven’t touched anything in here.”

“Except the doorknob,” Norton said dryly.

“Sir?”

“You’ve got your hand all over it right this minute,” Norton said. “How many other people have smeared the prints that might have been on that knob?”

Masters drew his hand back suddenly, as if the brass knob had magically grown hot. “I’m sorry. I didn’t think.”

“Is the door locked?” Norton asked.

“Yes, sir.”

“Has it been locked since the day of the murder?”

“Yes, sir.”

“Was it locked when you discovered the body?”

“Yes, sir.”

“All right, open it. What’s down the hallway there?”

“The radio shack, sir,” Masters said. “And beyond that, the boat deck. Through the hatch there.”

“All right, open the door.”