James Benn - Billy Boyle

I walked out of his room and shut the door. The hallway was silent, everyone busy in their offices or at lunch. I put the key in the lock and turned it, withdrew it, and started to walk away. Something stopped me. I went back to his door, unlocked it, and then locked it again. For the first time, maybe because of the quiet or because I had lost focus on the search, I noticed something. The key, turning in the lock, made a loud or at least noticeable metallic click clack sound. What would that sound like in the early morning hours, when you were close to waking up? Could someone in an adjacent room have heard that sound just before dawn?

I headed to the stairway to see how far Kaz and Daphne had gotten up on the fourth floor. I wanted to test my theory out in Birkeland’s room. I heard rapid footsteps, heels racing on the wooden floor, and Daphne’s high voice calling out “Billy? Billy, we found it!” I hotfooted it to the stairwell and caught her before she made it all the way down.

“Where?” I asked as I took her arm and turned her around.

“Anders Arnesen. In his room,” she answered breathlessly, “and I found it!”

Major Arnesen. Hmm. I had a strange feeling about him yesterday. He seemed relatively indifferent after I almost took a shot to the head. Had he been the shooter? Was he the killer? What was he thinking about when he left the key in his room?

Kaz was standing in the open doorway. “Billy, we haven’t touched or moved anything. Come, see.”

This room was more like mine, a small guest room, suitable for temporary visits but not outfitted for living space. His bathroom was even smaller than mine, which made me happy.

“It was so easy, wasn’t it, darling?” Daphne gushed as she squeezed Kaz’s arm. “It was terribly gauche going through these people’s personal possessions, don’t you think? But there it was. We didn’t even have to look hard!”

She was thrilled with her find and would probably be walking on air for the rest of the day. Kaz silently walked to the corner of the bed and picked up the mattress. There, lying about ten inches from the edge, was a key.

“Daphne found it just like that. I checked the spare key to this room against it; it’s not the same.”

I pulled the housekeeper’s spare for Birkeland’s room out of my pocket and laid it next to the key. It was a perfect match. Well, well, well.

“Daphne, will you please find Major Arnesen. He should be in his office or the map room. Tell him we need his assistance up here. Don’t let on that we found anything. Then find Captain Harding and tell him we’ll meet him in the mess hall. I need some chow.”

“Shall I tell him what we found?”

“No. Don’t tell anyone anything, OK? Can you pull it off with Arnesen?”

“Darling, at dinner last night I pretended I was interested in the business of fish-processing and canning. I can handle a little white lie with the major.” She winked at me and scurried off.

“What is your plan, Billy?”

“Poke him with a stick, Kaz, and see how high he jumps.”

“I think I will like this part. What do you want me to do?”

“Sit right here.” I motioned to the edge of the bed where the key was hidden. “I’ll ask him a few questions, and we’ll watch his reaction to where you’re sitting. Then we’ll spring it on him.” Kaz grinned like a sly fox in a henhouse and I leaned up against the wall near the window, trying to look casual. I wasn’t sure the presence of the key in his room meant he was the one who put it there, but it didn’t mean he wasn’t either. I thought about how that really meant I didn’t know a damned thing. A minute later, Anders Arnesen walked in.

“Major.” I greeted him with a smile. “Come on in!”

“It is a little strange to be welcomed into one’s own room, Lieutenant. However, I understand the necessity. How are you, Baron?” He nodded at Kaz politely.

“Very well, Major. Searching is quite a tiring business, though. I am glad Billy has given us a respite.” I watched Anders closely. He gave no hint that he was doing anything except engaging in polite chatter.

“Have you found anything yet? I hear you are looking for a missing key.”

He stood with his hands in his pockets, looking extraordinarily nonchalant. He didn’t look like he was in mourning for Knut Birkeland, but, he wasn’t acting like a guilty or nervous suspect either. I watched for the telltale glance at his hiding place, but, aside from his exchange with Kaz, his eyes never darted anywhere. He looked at me idly, waiting for a response. Already this wasn’t going the way I thought it would.

“Word travels fast. Did you know Knut Birkeland well?”

“Actually not very well at all. After our escape from Norway, I saw him only a few times here at Beardsley Hall. I have been busy training the Norwegian Brigade at our base. New volunteers are coming in from Norway constantly.”

“How do they get here?” asked Kaz.

“Every commando raid along the coast returns with a large number of volunteers. When we land near a town the word spreads and young men pack up and return with us. Sometimes a fishing craft will slip through the German coastal patrols and make the journey to Scotland.”

“What did you think of Birkeland’s position on using the Underground Army?”

“I have just requested permission from the king to go to Norway and assess the effectiveness of the underground. I believe it would be a waste of resources to organize and arm this force and not use it. However, if they are not capable of a sustained uprising, it would be criminal to order them into action.”

“Makes sense. What did the king say?”

“His initial reaction was that he wanted me to stay here and get the brigade ready for the invasion, but he promised to think about it. Lieutenant-”

“Major, unless you want to stand on ceremony, please call me Billy. When people say ‘lieutenant’ I can only think about my supervisor back at the Boston Police Department.” I wanted to put him at ease, figuring that he’d assume a friendly approach meant he wasn’t a suspect.

“We are very lucky to have a trained policeman here. Quite a coincidence… Billy.” He smiled and lifted a questioning eyebrow at me. Wow, this guy was confident. He was either innocent or very experienced at interrogations. Or both, which was also possible. An attack is a good defense when you’re being questioned. The interrogator needs to know not to respond, not to give up the rhythm of the questioning by answering the attack. I knew that. Kaz didn’t.

“What do you mean by that?” Kaz demanded angrily, jumping up from his seat on the bed and standing in front of Arnesen, arms akimbo, defending my honor.

“Baron, you must admit it is quite odd. First, our American friend Billy is almost shot yesterday, and then Birkeland is found dead this morning. Beardsley Hall has not seen so much commotion since the days of the Vikings. Before your party arrived, things were very quiet here. One has to wonder at your real reason for coming.” Again, the smile. So disarming. He’d make a great interrogation partner. Kaz was fuming, so I put my hand on his shoulder and tried to calm things down. He sat back down on the bed, his eyes shooting daggers at Arnesen.

“Major, there’s nothing I’d like better than to leave you all here and get back to London-or Boston, for that matter. I just came along for the ride and now I’m stuck with this assignment, just like you’re stuck here with the Brigade instead of taking off for home. So give us a hand, will you?” He studied me for a minute. I could practically see the wheels turning, and I wished I knew what he was really thinking.

“OK, to use an American expression. How can I help you, Billy?”