James Benn - Billy Boyle

“Well, I’m glad you got out OK.” This was greeted with silence.

Finally the captain spoke. “The destroyer Diana was on was sunk by Stukas. The wounded were packed like sardines on deck. Most of them didn’t survive a night in the water.”

More silence. Kaz dropped a knife and the dull thud of silver hitting the table filled the room. I looked at Diana, trying to visualize her bobbing in a life jacket in the cold channel water, dead and dying men all around her. She gave her father a look that said, Please, don’t say anymore. She started to speak, stopped, and then seemed to rally. A smile crept back onto her face. She speared an asparagus and looked at me.

“So, Lieutenant, you were telling us about the difficulties of military campaigns?”

I could feel my face redden. I was glad to see she wasn’t so upset she stopped needling me. I raised my glass.

“To our English allies. They still have a thing or two to teach us colonials.”

I drained my glass. Daphne smiled approvingly, in a silent message of goodwill.

There was more wine, and several courses of good country food. The captain explained that the farm provided for most of their own needs, so rationing didn’t hurt them too badly. It was a working horse farm, and even with mechanization, there was still a big demand by the army for horses. He was evidently doing OK. After the servants cleared away the last of the dishes, the brandy and cigars came out. I had never been a big smoker, but I thought I ought to give it a try, since they were on the house. I put the cigar in my mouth before I noticed there was no hole at the end to draw the smoke through. I took it out quickly when I saw Kaz snip the end off his with a little cutter that had come with the box. For the second time that night I felt my face redden. I sincerely hoped they hadn’t noticed. Then I saw Daphne dabbing her mouth with a napkin, hiding a grin none too well.

I gave her a glare as Kaz handed me the clippers. At least Diana wasn’t laughing.

The captain was puffing on his cigar already, getting it going. Finally he exhaled. “Daphne tells me you’re a criminal detective, Lieutenant,” he said.

“Yes sir, Boston Police Department, now U.S. Army.” Criminal detective sounded a little fancier than cop, but I kinda liked it so I let it go.

“Apparently, you are conducting some kind of investigation? Anything you can tell us about?” I looked at Kaz and then Daphne. I wasn’t too sure about who should know what at this point.

“Father is actually very well informed about a number of military matters, Billy,” Daphne said. “He’s a frequent visitor at Chequers.”

The blank expression on my face must’ve said it all.

“Chequers is the prime minister’s country residence,” Kaz explained.

“Oh.”

“That would be Winston Churchill, dear,” added Daphne helpfully. I ignored her as she tried to stifle another bout of laughter.

“Father is too modest to explain,” Diana said, “but during the thirties, when Winston was trying to warn the government about the Nazi threat, he was only a member of Parliament, without much of a following or resources. A small group of influential men, some on active duty and some retired, advised him. Father was one of those. Still is, actually, when Winnie wants to sound out ideas and that sort of thing.”

“Winnie?”

“Oh yes,” Daphne added. “He’s quite a dear. He used to tell us stories of his adventures in Africa when we were children.”

“Suffice it to say, Lieutenant, I know all about Operation Jupiter. I helped Winston work out the naval logistics when it was an entirely British operation. I can only assume that’s why you’ve been consulting with the Norwegians at Beardsley Hall. As for Diana, she already has a top-secret security clearance. MI-5 cleared her before she went over with the BEF.”

Kaz gave a little shrug and nodded his head toward me. I guess we weren’t in a nest of German sympathizers.

“Do you know Knut Birkeland, sir?”

“I’ve met him in London. He advised the Royal Navy on coastal defenses and likely landing spots. Owns a fishing fleet over there, I believe, knows the coastline like the back of his hand, if I remember correctly. Decent chap.”

“Yes, he was. He’s dead.”

“It was supposed to look like suicide, Father,” Daphne broke in eagerly. “But Billy thinks it was murder! We’re helping him investigate. It’s all very exciting.”

“How was he killed?” Diana asked.

“Defenestrated,” Kaz said. “Pushed, thrown, or jumped out a fourthfloor window. Which one depends on whether or not you believe the suicide note.”

I went over the note, the gold coin, the accusations by Vidar Skak, and those who we had identified as being up and about during the early morning hours: Skak, Captain Jens Iversen, Major Anders Arnesen, Lieutenant Rolf Kayser, an unidentified female in the company of Iversen, and of course, the king.

“So,” the captain said slowly, thinking out loud, “if it wasn’t suicide, it was probably one of those individuals? Certainly you can’t suspect the king?”

“A cop… a criminal detective should never assume someone is incapable of murder. But leaving his royal status aside for the moment, King Haakon is one of the least likely suspects. Rolf Kayser is the other. They were out very early, hunting. The timing doesn’t work, based on the condition of the body.”

“Rigor mortis, that sort of thing?” the captain asked.

“Yes. Lividity, too.” I described the condition of the body as I found it.

“But you sound certain that the suicide note was actually written by Mr. Birkeland?” Diana asked, puzzled.

“Yes, it is in his handwriting.”’

“His handwriting, no signs of a struggle inside a locked room,” Diana said as she ticked off these points on her fingers. “How can you say it wasn’t suicide?”

“He wasn’t the type. We found the room key in Arnesen’s room later that morning. How did it get there? Someone may have planted it, or maybe Arnesen thought no one would search every room for the key, but I doubt it.”

“So who does that leave as a prime suspect?” Diana asked.

“Skak had a motive. He and Birkeland were rivals for the position of the king’s senior adviser.”

“Yes,” the captain said, “I seem to remember a difference of opinion about the role of the underground in Norway. Birkeland was dead set against it, right?”

“Absolutely. Skak was just as adamant that they be used in an uprising. Birkeland favored commando raids, even though that meant his fishing fleet was a prime target.”

“Ah, nitroglycerin!” the captain said. “The commandos have been destroying fishing boats and processing plants.”

“Correct,” said Kaz. “I am going to London to try to find out if anyone stood to gain financially by halting those raids. Someone in England, that is.”

“So, Skak has a political motive, and you’re looking for someone who might have had a financial motive,” Diana said. “What about this mystery woman?”

“I have no idea,” I admitted. “Until we find her, anyway. Daphne and I are going up to the Southwold base to talk to Rolf Kayser. He left the hall soon after Birkeland’s death and we haven’t had a chance to question him. I’m hoping he and the king saw something, or somebody, that morning that will give us a lead.”

“It sounds like you’ve gotten nowhere,” said Diana, her blonde eyebrow arched and her eyes aimed at me, drilling me right through the heart.

“That’s not fair!” Daphne protested.

“Unfortunately, it is,” I admitted. “At this point in an investigation, the only thing to do is to go over everything again, carefully. They always make a mistake somewhere, it’s just a matter of patience.”