The Crime on the Norwegian Sea Page 4

  “We’re not spies,” said Dash resolutely. “I’m a detective from Eye International. We’re here to deliver you to the ship’s captain: I’m certain that you’re the one who murdered Hermann Bauer!”

  Ms. Turner raised an eyebrow in confusion. Agatha explained the situation.

  When the woman heard about Bismarck’s death, her face fell. “Poor man.” She sighed. “He seemed nice.”

  “Calling him nice won’t get you off the hook,” said Dash drily.

  “Why in tarnation would I want to kill him? I won the auction for Bismarck’s goods. I don’t have any motive to kill him.”

  “W-wait up,” stammered Dash. “What auction? What goods?”

  “Don’t tell me you didn’t know!” Lilian looked startled. “Bismarck brought us all on the cruise to sell some valuable information . . . to the highest bidder!”

  “That solves the blackjack mystery!” exclaimed Agatha. “Your bets weren’t related to the game at all . . . You were raising bids to buy Bismarck’s information!”

  “What information?” said Dash. “What did he want to sell?”

  “An engine prototype,” replied Lilian, starting to grin. “Or the formula for a new super-tanning sunscreen. Or maybe the schematics for a next-generation cell phone. In any case, it’s nothing criminal. We all specialize in trading top secret industrial information. But we’re just the middlemen . . . None of us knew what Bismarck was selling. That’s our rich employers’ business!”

  “Yeah, so, who’s your rich employer?” Dash interrupted.

  “That’s a professional secret, buddy!” Ms. Turner laughed. “If you think I’ll tell you, you’re dreaming!” Then her face became serious. “We didn’t do anything illegal. The auction was conducted in the usual way, even if it was top secret. I made the best offer, and Bismarck’s information was mine. We made an appointment. Before he left the ship, he was going to give me a flash drive with the information, and I would have paid the amount we’d agreed on. But somebody did him in and stole it first. What a mess . . . The boss isn’t going to be pleased when he hears this news!”

  “As far as I’m concerned, you could still be the assassin.” Dash sounded suspicious. “Let’s say you decided not to pay Bismarck at the last minute . . . but you got your precious information all the same. That’d be worth . . .”

  “Lilian Turner is innocent!” declared Agatha firmly.

  Dash stared at her, stunned.

  “I already knew it couldn’t be her. When we were watching the video, I could see she was petite. She would barely have reached Bismarck’s shoulders. Not only that, but she suffers from rheumatism. How could she have surprised the victim from behind and strangled him?”

  “Well . . . ,” Dash admitted, scratching his head. “You have some good points.”

  “Brains of the outfit, huh?” Lilian Turner looked at Agatha, impressed. “I’ll tell you exactly what happened. One of the other two bidders in the auction couldn’t face losing, so he decided to murder Bismarck and steal the flash drive that I rightfully won. They’re the two suspects you ought to investigate!”

  Lilian leaned closer, speaking in a conspiratorial whisper. “Miller, the young Brit, is kind of a hothead . . . but he seems harmless to me. The more likely suspect is that Japanese fellow. He’s a shadowy sort. He’s a martial-arts fanatic and spends all his time working out at the gym. Believe me, he doesn’t take defeat well. I could be wrong, of course . . . But I’d bet my hat he’s the one who attacked Bismarck and stole my flash drive!”

  “There’s only one way to find out if you’re right, Ms. Turner,” said Dash. “Let’s go find him!”

  “I’ll join you!” said the peppery Texan. “I bought that top secret info, and I want it back.”

  “Thanks for the offer,” said Agatha. “But it would be best if you went back to your cabin for now. If the culprit sees us together, he might suspect something’s up. We need to be very discreet and solve this mystery by tomorrow morning!”

  The three detectives and the ex-spy said their good-byes in the spa’s locker room.

  Dash Mistery could not get his robe off fast enough. Beneath it, his whole suit was drenched in sweat.

  “Kentaro Takagi,” said Dash, bringing up his profile on the EyeNet. “Forty-one years old, born in Okinawa. Ex–secret agent from Naicho, Tokyo’s intelligence service. Expelled six years ago for reasons that were never revealed, he now works for a variety of private citizens. A black belt in nine martial arts, he practices Bushido, the ancient art of the samurai, which is a true life philosophy. He seems like a real tough guy!”

  The three detectives went straight to the place they expected to find Kentaro: the Parsifal Dojo, the King Arthur’s biggest gym. Inside, there were tennis and racquetball courts, and even a skating rink.

  Agatha, Dash, and Chandler sneaked into the men’s locker room. There was only one set of clothes hanging up, those of the last person visiting the gym. Agatha recognized the black outfit and the crocodile jacket that Kentaro Takagi had been wearing at the casino a few hours earlier.

  “This guy isn’t going to be easy to crack,” said Dash with a nervous laugh.

  “Well, we’ll have to get him talking one way or another,” Agatha replied. “Look what I found in his jacket pocket!”

  She held up a small rectangular object, plated in gold. It was a flash-drive stick.

  “It’s exactly the same size as the slit in the lining of the briefcase,” said Chandler. “It must be the flash drive that the culprit stole from Bismarck . . . after he murdered him!”

  They entered the gym on tiptoe. It was deserted, and a profound silence hung in the air. There was only one guest, immobile in the middle of the room. He was sitting with legs crossed on a mat, wearing a red silk kimono. He had his back to the trio.

  He appeared to be contemplating the view out the window. Even though it was late, the sky shone with luminous twilight. The arctic sun would soon rise again over the sea.

  Dash shot a knowing look at Agatha and Chandler. Then he approached on tiptoe.

  “Don’t take another step!” commanded Takagi without turning around.

  Dash froze.

  “What do you want?” snarled the Japanese athlete.

  Dash gathered his courage. “Takagi, we’re taking you straight to the ship’s captain. You murdered Hermann Bauer, admit it!”

  The man did not move a muscle. Agatha and Chandler stepped forward. Takagi stood up in one swift movement, turning to face them. His face was fierce. A split second later, a wry smile crossed his face as he sized up Dash.

  “You’re . . . giving an order to me?” he sneered. “Listen, you impudent brat, how do you plan to do that? Get lost, or there’ll be trouble!”

  “Don’t make us use force,” said Chandler, taking a step forward.

  Takagi did not lose his cool. Loosening his belt, he slipped off the kimono. His chest and arms were covered in multicolored Japanese tattoos, in which dragons, fish, and cherry blossoms intertwined. His muscles rippled like serpents.

  Unimpressed, Chandler took another step forward.

  “You want to face me in combat?” Kentaro hissed. “Do not be pathetic!” He cracked his knuckles, took a deep breath, and flexed his muscles. “You stand no chance against me! My body is as flexible as bamboo and as strong as steel. My hand is more deadly than a katana, the lethal Japanese sword!”

  “Less chat, if you don’t mind,” said Chandler, raising his fists.

  The warrior gave a deep bow. His eyes blazed.

  “Very well, sir. I respect your courage! I will allow you the honor of succumbing to my most powerful move: the Ninety-Nine Dragon Punch! A lethal technique, passed down through the centuries by an ancient secret order of warrior monks! Only a select few have ever had the privilege of . . .”

  But Kentaro did not finish his se
ntence. Chandler, impatient, gave him a left hook to the face. The Japanese man staggered backward and fell to the ground, unconscious.

  “I beg your pardon,” said the butler. “But we’re in a bit of a hurry.”

  Takagi recovered his senses a few minutes later. By then, Chandler had dragged him to the locker room and propped him on a bench while Dash procured a bag of ice to help with his black eye.

  “Ah, why didn’t you finish me off?” Takagi lamented. “Defeat is worse than death for those of us who follow Bushido, the samurai code of honor!”

  “Enough of that,” Dash cut him off. “Now confess: You killed Bismarck and stole the secret files on the flash drive, didn’t you?”

  “Lies!” thundered Takagi. “I don’t know what you’re talking about. I accepted my defeat at the auction with honor. Then I went straight to the gym to meditate and purify my spirit. I’ve been here ever since.”

  “And yet we found this in your jacket,” said Dash, holding up the gold flash drive. Takagi grimaced.

  “I’ve never seen that before,” he said coldly. “Someone must have put it there to frame me.”

  “Dash, try connecting the flash drive to the EyeNet and see what’s on it,” said Agatha thoughtfully. “Maybe Mr. Takagi is telling the truth.”

  Dash immediately followed her instructions. In seconds, the EyeNet scanned the contents. A look of amazement flashed over the young detective’s face.

  “I—I can’t believe it,” he stammered. “It’s empty!”

  “Maybe the culprit deleted the data after he copied it?” Chandler hypothesized.

  “If so, the EyeNet would be able to recover it,” replied Dash. “But this flash drive is brand-new. It’s been analyzed by one of my programs. I guarantee you that it’s never been used or tampered with!”

  “That means there are two possibilities,” Agatha concluded. “Either this isn’t the stolen flash drive . . . or it was the one in Bismarck’s case, but it was just a decoy! The top secret information he was selling could still be hidden somewhere else.”

  “Okay, but that doesn’t explain what this was doing in Takagi’s pocket!” Dash noted. “And he’s definitely strong enough to have strangled Hermann Bauer.”

  “I’m being set up, I tell you!” exclaimed the Japanese man. “I bet the real villain is that arrogant Englishman, Miller. On my way to the gym, I crossed paths with him in the hallway on Deck Eleven. He must have slipped the flash drive into my pocket then. What a snake!”

  Kentaro Takagi’s eyes burned with contempt. “That coward must have attacked Bismarck. Then, when he realized the flash drive he’d stolen was blank, he decided to get rid of it, and transfer the blame to me at the same time. Miller is a former thief, very skilled with his hands. He’s set me up!”

  “Why should we believe you?” Dash pressed. “Is there anyone who can testify that you left the casino and came straight here . . . without paying a little visit to the victim’s cabin first?”

  “As I said before,” Agatha interrupted, “I think Mr. Takagi is telling the truth. He couldn’t have killed Bismarck!”

  “Why not?” grumbled Dash.

  “I read a book about the Bushido samurai code a while ago. Bismarck was strangled by someone who attacked him from behind, right? But for a Japanese warrior to attack an enemy from behind would be extremely dishonorable!”

  “I’d rather die!” cried Takagi. “I am no coward who attacks with such treachery. I always meet enemies face to face!”

  “So, if Takagi is innocent,” Chandler considered, “then the assassin has to be . . .”

  “Miller!” cried Dash. “Let’s go find him!”

  Takagi stood, giving a deep bow to the ex-boxer. “Noble warrior, you beat me in a fair fight and punished me for my arrogance. I wish to remedy my mistake! I will follow you faithfully and help you flush out this snake, Miller!”

  Chandler scratched his head. He was much more at ease taking orders than giving them.

  Agatha told Takagi that it would be best if Miller didn’t see them together. “It gives us the advantage of surprise,” she explained. In the end, the Japanese man was convinced to return to his cabin.

  The three detectives made their way to Deck Four, where they found the cabin of the last of their three suspects, Herbert Thackeray Miller. They arrived at his door and found it locked.

  “Here we go again.” Dash sighed. “Who knows where he’s gone?”

  “In this case,” said Agatha, “the Englishman’s absence gives us a certain advantage. If we are going by elimination, we can assume he must be the culprit. So if we can sneak into his room, we can search for proof to incriminate him beyond any doubt.”

  “Do you want me to break down the door?” asked Chandler.

  “That won’t be necessary,” said Dash, eyeing the electronic lock. “Thanks to one of the apps on my EyeNet, I can get us inside in no time!”

  The magnetic lock on Herbert Miller’s cabin opened with a sharp click.

  Dash held up the EyeNet, flashing a smug smile. “See? Opening doors on this ship is child’s play!”

  The room reflected the Englishman’s vanity: the air was thick with eau de cologne. There were scented candles and floral bouquets on the nightstand. The cabin was perfectly tidy. Agatha noticed just one thing out of place: a black silk tie lying on the carpet.

  She took a tissue, bent over, and picked it up, being careful not to leave fingerprints. “It looks like Miller must have been wearing this for a while,” she commented. “It’s crumpled and twisted in a strange way.”

  The tie had two loops at the ends. The fabric looked stretched, as if it had been subjected to strong tension.

  Meanwhile, Dash searched the room.

  “Everything looks in order,” he commented. “Are we sure he’s really the murderer?”

  “I’m sure of one thing,” whispered Agatha, showing him the tie. “This was used to strangle Bismarck. In other words, dear colleagues, we have found the murder weapon!”

  “Murder weapon?” said a shrill voice with a posh English accent. “Who are you, and what are you doing here?”

  The two children and Chandler turned. Young Herbert Miller had just appeared in the cabin doorway. He was still wearing his spotless white suit. He stared at them, wide-eyed and anxious.

  “Miller, we’re taking you to the ship’s captain!” cried Dash. “You’re guilty of murdering Hermann Bauer!”

  “M-murder?” he stammered. “What the deuce are you talking about?”

  “Don’t play dumb,” said Dash. “After you lost the auction, you went to Bismarck’s cabin, strangled him, and stole a flash drive containing top secret information. When you discovered that the flash drive was blank, you slipped it into Takagi’s pocket. Then you got rid of the murder weapon, throwing it here on the rug . . . Am I right?”

  “You’re dead wrong!” snapped Miller. “It’s true, after I lost the auction, I left the Excalibur Casino immediately. But a gentleman knows how to accept defeat . . . I took in a bracing breath of sea air, and went back to the casino straightaway to play blackjack with more skillful opponents.”

  “So why is the tie that was used to strangle Bismarck here in your cabin?” asked Agatha.

  “I have no idea!” Miller said, throwing his arms wide. “Someone must have put it here without my knowledge. It couldn’t be mine. Check my wardrobe, if you don’t believe me.”

  Chandler opened the closet door. Jackets, shirts, pants, and ties were neatly hung inside . . . all in shades of white, cream, and ivory.

  “I can’t abide black!” exclaimed Miller. “Loathe that color. I never wear it.”

  “The fact that the tie doesn’t match doesn’t prove a thing,” said Dash, pointing a finger. “You could have taken the black one out of Bismarck’s own wardrobe!”

  “I don’t think so,”
said Agatha. “I’ve only seen Bismarck wearing a bow tie.”

  “There were no neckties in his wardrobe,” confirmed Chandler. “Only more bow ties!”

  “Besides,” said Agatha, “you just proved how easy it is to force locks on the King Arthur’s cabins. The real assassin wouldn’t have had any trouble opening the door and throwing the tie on the rug!”

  “The girl’s right!” Miller said. “I’m completely at your disposal. I would like to help you find whoever killed Bismarck. I can assure you that I had nothing to do with the matter!”

  Discouraged, Dash sat down, holding his head in his hands. “It’s official. I’m going to be kicked out of school! Three suspects and they all have alibis . . . I just don’t get it!”

  “There are two possibilities,” said Agatha. “Either one of them lied and is really the culprit . . . or we’ve been on the wrong track all along, and the person who killed Bismarck wasn’t one of the three blackjack players!”

  “We just need to find out who owns that tie,” observed Chandler.

  “Or simply remember who wore a black tie during the auction,” replied Agatha, chewing her lip. Then her face lit up. “Of course! The camera!”

  “What camera?” asked Herbert Miller, stunned.

  “The one Chandler left on the slot machine in the Excalibur Casino,” she replied. “It’s still there and has probably been recording all night!”

  “Yes!” Dash confirmed, patting his pocket. “That battery should last for days. Everything it has filmed is saved on the EyeNet.”

  Dash pulled out the titanium device and turned it on. The camera had recorded four and a half hours of footage.

  “Go back to the blackjack game,” Agatha suggested. Dash complied with a few taps on the touch screen. The scene reappeared before the detectives’ eyes. Bismarck was wearing a bow tie, just as Agatha remembered. Ms. Turner, of course, was not wearing a tie. Herbert Miller was wearing the same ivory tie he still had on, and Kentaro Takagi had no tie at all.