James Benn - Billy Boyle

“May I show you the way?”

“Yes, you may, Sergeant Slater. I assume you have someplace for Lieutenant Boyle?”

“Who?”

Daphne tilted her head toward me.

“Oh, sure. Do you have luggage?”

“Yes, in a little red car right out front.”

As they walked down the hall, Slater yelled to one of the GI clerks. “Hanson, get the lady’s luggage and bring it over to the VIP quarters. Then show this lieutenant to a spare room in the officers’ quarters.”

Again, the thumb hooked over the shoulder. Must be a local custom.

After stashing my gear, I visited the quartermaster, showed him my very authoritative orders, and persuaded him to part with some shirts, socks, and skivvies. He didn’t like issuing supplies to someone not in his table of organization, but that was tough. Orders from ETO HQ countersigned by a representative of the Imperial General Staff were hard to ignore. I washed up, put on a clean shirt, and felt like a million bucks heading over to the officers’ mess.

The feeling didn’t last long. Rolf was already there, sitting alone at a table for four. He waved me over. An orderly brought us a couple of beers.

“ Hei, Billy. Welcome to Southwold. You should like the food; it’s an American mess. I must admit I’m becoming spoiled by it.” He lifted a bottle of Rheingold, almost covering it in his big hand, and took a long drink, draining half of it. He put the bottle down and looked me in the eye.

“What can I do for you?”

“Tell me about the morning of Knut Birkeland’s murder. What did you see at Beardsley Hall? Anything unusual?”

He shrugged. “No. It was early. It was dark. I went to the king’s rooms at exactly four thirty…”

“What time did you get up?”

“I had set my alarm for four fifteen. I got up, dressed, and left my room. I didn’t see anyone. It was quiet. The king’s valet had provided a thermos of coffee and some bread and cheese sandwiches. We walked out front to the car and drove away. It was entirely unremarkable.”

I went over it all again, probing for any little thing he may have seen, anything out of the ordinary. I got nothing, except that it was dark and quiet. Not exactly revelations about a country house on the heath at four thirty in the morning.

Daphne and Anders walked in and came over to the table. Rolf stood and made a little fancy continental bow to Daphne. I half stood, then slumped back into my chair.

“Rolf, how good to see you again,” Daphne said.

“And you,” said Rolf. “Please sit and cheer up Billy. I have been unable to help him at all and he seems quite depressed.”

“Still no closer to finding the killer, Billy?” asked Anders as they seated themselves.

“Doesn’t seem so.”

“Are you sure there was a killer? I thought Birkeland left a suicide note,” said Rolf. “Has something else happened?” There was a moment of uneasy silence.

“Rolf,” said Anders, “you had to leave, so you probably don’t know that the key to Birkeland’s locked room was found. In my room.”

“Well, Billy, you seem to have your man!” Rolf lifted his glass in a mock toast to Anders, who raised his hands in surrender. They both laughed and Daphne joined in. It looked like it was going to be a real fun evening. We all ordered another drink, and then my curiosity got the better of me.

“So, Anders, tell us. What’s your big news?”

“What are you up to, min venn?” asked Rolf. Anders looked around and leaned in to whisper to us.

“Let me just say that the king has agreed to my plan.” Anders leaned back and smiled. He had wanted to return to Norway and make contact with the Underground Army to evaluate its effectiveness. This plan had represented a middle ground in the argument between Vidar Skak and Knut Birkeland, and it looked like the king was playing it safe.

“Is Vidar angry?” asked Rolf.

“Yes, of course, but he’s pretending to be very friendly. I’m his next best hope if he can’t convince the king. I’m to make an initial report in thirty days.”

“So you’re going soon?” I asked.

“I fly from here to Scotland in the morning.” He didn’t say anything else, but he didn’t have to. Scotland was the jumping-off point for commando raids and agent drops to Norway. They went in by fishing boat, submarine, or sometimes airplane. So another suspect was getting out of Dodge before I was done with the investigation. I knew there was a war on, but I still didn’t like it one bit.

“Congratulations. You deserve such an important mission,” said Rolf. “But I’m surprised the king let you go. He seemed intent on keeping you with the brigade.”

“I think he finally decided a report from a trusted source was the most logical way to decide about the underground,” Anders answered. “But I shouldn’t say any more. I’d trust one of the musketeers with my life and I’m sure General Eisenhower’s staff is above suspicion, but my orders are top secret. Please do not repeat anything I’ve said.”

“Or didn’t say,” I added.

“Yes, that also.”

“So,” Rolf said, “to change the subject, where is the baron? The three of you seemed to be a team.” He raised his eyebrow at me, as if asking if I had ditched Kaz to get Daphne alone. Or maybe he just had a twitch. Whatever it was, Daphne must’ve caught it, too, because she spoke up quickly, defending me against the insinuation.

“Oh, Kaz is in London, doing some research. He’s looking into who else might benefit from Mr. Birkeland’s death.”

“Good idea,” Rolf said. “Like who would inherit his business, that sort of thing?”

“Yes,” Daphne answered, “and-”

I jumped in. “It’s just a long shot. He probably won’t have any business left to inherit if the raids keep up.”

“We’re ordered to destroy the fishing plants, forbann det! How do you think it feels for Norwegians to ruin their own fishing industry?”

“Whoa, Rolf, hold on,” I said. “I never blamed anyone. It’s Allied policy, that’s all. Don’t get all hot under the collar.”

“It’s bad enough that we have to do it, Billy, but it adds insult to injury that you are investigating the motives of patriotic Norwegians.”

“First, it may turn out that Birkeland wasn’t killed by a Norwegian. Second, if he was, the killer wouldn’t be very patriotic, if he killed the king’s trusted adviser.”

Rolf seemed to calm down. He looked at us a little guiltily. “I understand. I apologize,” he said. “I know you are only doing your duty.”

“As are we all,” Anders said very seriously. He raised his glass. “To duty, wherever it takes us.” We clinked glasses and drank. Dinner came. It was good American food. Roast beef, mashed potatoes, and succotash. But my appetite wasn’t what it should have been. The roast beef sat in a twisted ball in my stomach as I pushed the rest of my food around the plate and looked at Daphne, trying not to be mad at her. It was kind of sweet that she had spoken up for me and real dumb to have let the cat out of the bag.

We talked about the war news for a while. There was a lot of it. We had just sunk some Jap carriers off an island named Midway in the Pacific somewhere. Churchill was in the States for talks with Roosevelt. The Afrika Korps was driving deeper into Libya. Daphne was fairly sure her brother, Thomas, was with the Eighth Army in Egypt but wasn’t certain, and it worried her. That meant her two siblings were in danger. I wondered how she felt, safe here in England. Did she, like Diana, want to tempt fate, too?

After dinner I walked Daphne back to her quarters. She looped her arm around mine and I had a hard time staying mad at her. Since meeting Diana I was beginning to think of Daphne as a kid sister and that made things a lot easier.