James Benn - Billy Boyle

“We have a little experiment to perform. Your room is two doors down from Birkeland’s, right?”

“Yes.”

“You and Kaz stay here with your door shut. I’m going down the hall. Tell me what you hear.” I left the room and went to Birkeland’s door. I unlocked it, trying to be as quiet as I could. The key turned in the lock and the mechanism rotated with a clear metallic clack. I opened the door, closed it carefully, and locked it. Clack. It was a distinct sound, not really loud, but probably more audible in the quiet of night. I walked past Anders’s door, stopped, then walked back and knocked. Kaz let me in.

“Major, please tell me what you heard, in detail.”

Arnesen closed his eyes and held up one finger. “First, your footsteps down the hall.” Another finger came up. “Then the faint sound of the key turning the lock, twice. I assume you unlocked and then locked Birkeland’s door. Then, and probably only because I was listening for it, the sound of your footsteps going by my door.” He ended with a fourth fin-ger up and opened his eyes. I looked at Kaz, who nodded his agreement.

“So this experiment, it was to show that others on this floor could hear the door being locked?” Arnesen asked.

“Yes. Did you hear anything like that last night?”

“Billy, my American friend, you have discovered what every man on this floor discovered when the female staff moved in!” Arnesen started to laugh, adding, “Congratulations!” Now I was really off my rhythm.

“What are you talking about?”

“Of course these old locks make a terrible noise at night, when everything is quiet. They echo in the hallway off the wooden walls and floor. I was here six months ago just after they brought in female clerical and housekeeping staff. The king’s staff had grown so large Jens decided they needed additional help. Late-night visitations were forbidden, but that first night it sounded like a symphony of locks as men left their rooms to meet their newfound girlfriends. As Skak and Birkeland were at opposite ends of the building, and were early risers, no one ever tried to bring the girls up here.”

“But what’s so funny?”

“There was a crackdown on the nocturnal visits, and several officers were disciplined when they were caught in the act. They learned to leave their doors unlocked at night, and slip out quietly. You could walk down this hallway at night and probably every other door would be unlocked and the room empty. So even if Birkeland or Skak were awake, they wouldn’t hear any coming or goings. Excellent, Lieutenants!” He gave each of us a mock bow. “You have uncovered a dastardly plot to steal the virtue of young English women!” By now he was almost howling with laughter. That did it. I was mad. At my own stupidity mostly, but it was never fun to take things out on myself. So I went for Arnesen. I flipped up the edge of the mattress.

“Do you think this is funny?” I picked up the key and held it in front of his face. My dad had taught me to hold off confronting a suspect with a piece of evidence long enough for the guy to think he’d gotten away with it. Let him feel relief at having put one over on you, he used to say. That way he’ll have even farther to fall when he finds out he’s wrong.

I watched Arnesen. Not just his eyes, but the muscles in his face. I wanted to see his fear when he realized I had found his hiding place. The shock of being found out, the little twitch that gives off the aroma of guilt. He had been riding high, laughing at us, and I was going to enjoy watching him reveal himself.

There was none of that. Genuine amazement, round-eyed surprise showed on his face. He was still half laughing as the fact that Knut Birkeland’s key was in his room dawned on him.

“What’s that doing here? Who put that there?”

Now I’ve seen plenty of guys who have been through questioning try to fake it. Everyone tries too hard, tries to show you how honest and innocent they are. The trouble is, as soon as you start thinking about it, it’s harder and harder to sound convincing. Because the really convincing thing is when you aren’t prepared, because you are innocent. You sound just like Arnesen did.

“Were you off on a nocturnal adventure last night, Major?”

“No. I have not had time to get to know any of the women here.”

“So how could anyone but you have put this key here?”

“First, Lieutenant, you are holding the answer to that in your hand. There are spare keys kept by the housekeeper. Anyone could walk through the kitchen area and pick them up, as you did.” I had to admit he was right. I had to find the housekeeper myself to tell her I was taking them.

“And secondly, why would I be so stupid as to keep the key to Birkeland’s room? I could always get in later with the spare, if that’s what I wanted. And if I needed to get rid of it, I could have easily found another open room as I’ve explained, and hidden it there.”

Anders stopped, the cold logic of his words hanging in the air between us. It made no sense, he was right. What did make sense was that someone else had done just what he suggested he could have done himself. He rubbed his chin with his hand, thinking it through. It looked like the same thought occurred to him at about the same time.

“So someone did kill Birkeland and then hid the key in my room.. ..”

I could see he was considering the possibilities. I was trying to stay one step ahead of him and find out if he knew anything he wasn’t telling us. Kaz beat me to the punch.

“Maybe you were next on the list, Major,” said Kaz, “and when you weren’t here, perhaps the person thought framing you would be the next best thing.”

I had to admire Kaz for that one. It was the first thing we threw at Anders that shook him. His eyes widened fractionally and he hesitated just a second before agreeing it was possible. He nodded his head but turned away, not meeting our eyes. Or not letting us see his. Once he collected himself, he turned around, as if his thoughts had just wandered. I decided to leave on a high note.

“That must be it,” I agreed. “Better watch your back, Anders.”

“I will, Billy. It seems there are enemies on all fronts.”

Kaz double stepped to keep up with me as I strode down the hallways of Beardsley Hall, fists slammed into my pockets and a black cloud over my head. I didn’t feel like chatting and Kaz mercifully got the point, remaining unusually silent.

I was fuming at looking like a rookie in front of Kaz and Anders. I hadn’t placed much stock in that key being proof of Anders’s guilt, so I didn’t mind that it hadn’t worked out. We took a shot and missed, no big deal. I hated being shown up about the locks, though. I was certain that within the hour my big “discovery” of the loud locks would be making the rounds, getting a big laugh about the American detective and his powers of deduction, or was it seduction? Ha ha. It reminded me of what my kid brother, Danny, said after his first few months at college. He took a class in sociology and said a sociologist was someone who would do a year’s worth of research to find out where all the whorehouses in town were, when all you had to do was slip any cabbie a sawbuck.

I had no idea what a sociologist did for a day’s pay, but I felt about as low as that dumb guy doing all that research. The worst thing-well not actually, but it sure felt that way at the moment-that could happen to a cop in an investigation was to look stupid or be the butt of a joke. It’s hard to put the fear of God in someone who’s laughing at you. You’re more than likely to beat the guy like a drum, which may feel satisfying at the moment, but doesn’t get you anywhere. And it wasn’t an option here in merrie olde England anyway.