The White Ghost (22 page)

Barney and I shook hands as I tried to dispel my cop's suspicions. I couldn't help it. Being raised in the Boyle household meant a constant state of awareness, observing what people said and did in order to discover the hidden meanings behind even the most innocent of jokes, comments, and silence. As my dad always said, there are no coincidences, and nothing is ever as it seems.

“Barney came along for the ride that night to man the thirty-seven-millimeter cannon we'd scrounged from the army,” Jack explained.

“We didn't get off a shot,” Barney said, “but the timbers we used to lash down the gun came in handy. The guys who couldn't swim hung onto them. Probably saved a few lives.”

“This time we'll have real firepower,” Jack said. “No more jury-rigged single-shot cannons. Two forty-millimeter Bofors guns, how's that sound?” The crazed gleam was back in Jack's eyes, and I left the two of them to talk about gunboats and killing plenty of Japs. Barney had a jeep and said he'd take Jack to his new boat, so I promised Jack I'd visit him onboard the 59 at Sesapi, but I can't say I looked forward to it.

I drove to
our quarters and told Kao to have some dinner ready for Kaz and me in an hour or so. Then I headed down to the PBY base, passing Captain Ritchie on the road. He ignored me, which is the best possible relationship to have with a senior officer. I sat in the jeep, waiting for the PBY to come into sight, thinking through everything that had happened since Kaz left. I'd have to tell him about Deanna. Kaz liked new and interesting experiences, not ones that reminded him of the past. I was worried how he'd react to the news. I did my best to keep him distracted, but memories of Daphne were always at the edge of everything, as with all great losses.

Trying to think of less depressing matters, I began to catalog all the events and people in this case of triple murder. What had I learned about all the known suspects? Was there a wild card out there, someone whom I didn't even suspect, or perhaps even know?

I went through all the names and faces I'd encountered, but all that did was leave me with the vague feeling that I'd missed something. Maybe it was vital, or maybe a meaningless loose end. But there it was, that empty space behind my eyes, where sat the niggling feeling of questions begging to be formed and asked, maybe even answered.

I'd given up by the time the PBY came into sight and landed as gracefully as a twenty-thousand-pound twin-engine aircraft can manage in heavy, rolling waves. It moved to its mooring as a launch departed shore and took on three passengers, Kaz included.

“I believe I have had enough of air travel for quite a while,” he said as we drove back to our quarters. “I would almost prefer luxury accommodations on a steamship at this point. With smooth waters, of course.”

“And no submarines,” I said.

“Or Kawanishis,” he countered. “Perhaps we could wait out the war on Tulagi, and book cabins on the first decent passenger vessel that comes along. Unless every ship in the Pacific is sunk first.”

We went on in the same vein for the rest of the drive, dreaming up exotic means of transportation, none of which involved enemy encounters. It didn't seem right to blurt out news of Deanna's death then, so I waited until we were back at what passed for home, sitting on the verandah, whiskey in hand, watching the last glimmering rays of sun descend over the horizon—which looked far too much like the Japanese Rising Sun banner.

“Deanna Pendleton has been killed,” I said, after a healthy drink.

“What? An accident?”

“No,” I said. “She was knifed. In Chinatown, by someone who knew what he was doing.”

“Tell me every detail,” he said, sitting bolt upright in his chair. So I did. I gave him a blow-by-blow description of meeting Jack, finding Deanna, speaking with Jai-li, and the subsequent medical report from Doc Schwartz, along with my discussions with the Coastwatchers and the ubiquitous Cosmoline.

“You are certain Kennedy is not involved?” Kaz asked.

“I can't say for certain,” I said. “He can be a bum, but it's hard to see him killing a woman.” What I didn't say was that Jack was used to getting his way. Deanna was the kind of woman who didn't give in to the male ego, and Jack's ego was formidable.

“Are you sure?” Kaz said, giving me a hard look. I nodded, keeping my darkest thoughts to myself.

“And someone may have tried to kill me,” I said, changing the subject. I told Kaz about the runaway fuel drums.

“Someone may be getting nervous,” he said.

“I sure am. Tell me, did you find Dickie Miller?” I asked, now that the bad news was out of the way.

“In hospital, yes,” Kaz said. “He is still quite ill and weak, but he should recover. He had nothing but good things to say about Daniel Tamana. ‘Smart chap for a native,' that sort of thing. I got the sense he actually respected him, but found him hard to categorize. He said they got along well in the bush, but he wondered how Daniel would get along in the world of Europeans after the war.”

“John Kari told me he was thinking of politics,” I said. “There's talk of independence for the Solomons after the war. Maybe Daniel would have chosen the same path. The Solomons will need educated leaders.”

“Miller said Daniel had talked about that as well. He said it might be the only place for him, as a spokesman for his people. Daniel said he doubted he could ever go back to village life or be accepted as anything other than a native outside of it. I had the feeling Miller felt sorry for him at some level.”

“That's pretty thoughtful on Miller's part,” I said. “Not that it helps us much. Did you find out anything useful?”

“Only that Miller said nothing seemed amiss with Daniel on their voyage to Henderson Field. He said Daniel was with him every minute, until he was put on the transport plane. All that does is confirm what we thought, that it was something Daniel saw or heard on his way to Tulagi.”

“And now we know that our four Coastwatcher friends were all on the same vessel Daniel was,” I said, filling Kaz in on my visit to the PT tender, and what I found out about Daniel and John Kari both working on Pavau.

“Miller said Daniel enjoyed his time on Pavau. He wanted a Coastwatchers assignment there, but apparently Hugh Sexton vetoed the idea. Since it is a relatively small island, it would be easy for Japanese patrols to run them down. Daniel claimed he knew every path, hiding place, and secret cove on Pavau, but finally agreed it would place the natives in greater danger.”

“How so?”

“The Japanese would have fewer villages to terrorize on a small island. If they suspected Coastwatchers were there, they could simply start killing natives until one of them betrayed their location, or at least the likely location of the radio. Without a radio, there's no use for a Coastwatcher.”

“That makes sense,” I said. “Not that it's helpful. Did he say if Daniel ever met John Kari?”

“Not that he knew of. Since Kari was the only one you actually saw in Chinatown, he seems to be the most likely killer,” Kaz said. “But what would his motive be?”

“No idea,” I said. “Money or love, that's what Jack reminded me when we first got here. I'd told him back in Boston those were the two most common motives for murder.”

“You are sure Kennedy is not involved in the other two killings?” Kaz asked.

“Yes,” I said. “There's nothing to connect him with Daniel Tamana. He did see Sam Chang that night in the hospital, but Chang was alive when he left.” I told Kaz about the report I'd given Ritchie and his promise to allow us to stay on to investigate.

“Now that Kennedy is in the clear,” Kaz said, “isn't it time you told me what grudge you have against him? Not his family, but him personally?”

“Kao,” I yelled. “Bring out the bottle.”

Kao fetched the half-empty bottle of whiskey. Then he carried out plates of fish, rice, and taro and placed them on the low table between us. I filled our glasses and figured there was enough to get me through the story, as long as Kaz didn't hog the bottle.

“It was the spring of 1937,” I said. “I was still a rookie and pulled duty with the vice squad one night. They were going to raid a brothel on North Street. Queen Lil's, it was called. Fancy place with a doorman and a reputation for clean girls.” I stopped to take a few bites of fish and wash it down with the whiskey. “Lil hadn't kept up her protection payments, so it was time to teach her a lesson. We weren't supposed to arrest any of the girls, only the customers.”

“Why?”

“Because she needed them working, to keep the cash flowing to the powers that be,” I said. “The idea was to show we could embarrass her clientele whenever we wanted. If we kept that up, Queen Lil's would just be another cheap whorehouse in the Black Sea.”

“The Black Sea?”

“That's what they call the area around North Street and North Square. It's near the docks, with a lot of brothels and bars catering to sailors. A good deal of gambling, too. Queen Lil's was at the top of the heap in the Black Sea, and her payments were probably a considerable source of income for the higher-ups. So it was a delicate operation. No damage to the premises, and leave the girls alone. Collar a bunch of customers and haul them away.”

“Wouldn't that hurt her business even more?” Kaz asked. “I'd think the public exposure would keep the elite clientele away.”

“I thought the same thing at first,” I said. “It was only later I learned that the men were never booked. They were tossed in the paddy wagon in front of Lil's and taken within a block of police headquarters. They paid a fine on the spot and were cut loose.”

“A bribe,” Kaz said. “But Queen Lil did not know that either.”

“Exactly,” I said. “Anyway, we go in like gangbusters, making a lot of noise and grabbing guys with one leg in their trousers. A vice detective has me check the back door and then the top floor. When I get up to the third floor, there's a sitting area at the top of the stairs. Plush red velvet chairs. In one of them, sitting with his legs crossed and smoking a cigar like he didn't have a care in the world, is a young skinny kid. Nice suit.”

“He hadn't been taken away?” Kaz said.

“Nope. He looked calm, like he had every right to be there, and to be left alone at that. Two detectives walked right by him, and he gave them a little nod, enough to send a message: you can't touch me.”

“Which you did not take well to, if I know you.”

“Right. So I asked him who he was and what he was doing there. He smiled and said he was Jack Kennedy, and he was waiting for a friend. I asked where his friend was, and he showed me a room down the hall. A uniformed cop, a sergeant, was standing guard at the door. I was confused and didn't know what to do. But vice had given us our marching orders, and I didn't want to get in trouble with them. Or with my father, since he'd hear about how I did from his pals. So I grabbed Kennedy by the arm and hustled him downstairs.”

“Did you know it was Ambassador Kennedy's son?” Kaz asked.

“No. Back then I mostly read the sports section and the funny pages. All I knew was that he was some Harvard rich kid, out catting around. He kept telling me I was making a mistake, which is what a lot of these clowns say.”

“But I get a sense you may have been,” Kaz said.

I nodded, and dug into the food and drink to fortify myself.

“How was I to know at the time?” I said. “When we got outside, this Kennedy kid asked if we could wait for his friend. The paddy wagon was crammed full, so I said fine. We had plenty of squad cars, and I said we'd give them both a ride to the station. While we're waiting, another kid comes up and starts asking Jack what's up. Turns out it was his older brother, Joe Junior.”

“Was he visiting Queen Lil's establishment as well?” Kaz asked.

“Apparently. He began to get testy with me for taking Jack into custody, and with Jack for allowing himself to be caught. Joe worked himself up to the point where I was ready to smack him with my billy club, but Jack laid a hand on my arm and shook his head. It was strange, my own prisoner touching me like that. I should have had him in cuffs, but somehow I never thought to do it. He was so confident, I couldn't picture him doing something as low as running off. I took his advice, and told Joe to hold his horses. It was a bit tense, until Commissioner Timilty showed up.”

“That's the police commissioner you mentioned before,” Kaz said. “The man who demoted your father because he investigated Joe Senior. Why would the commissioner of police be present at a raid on a brothel? Isn't that unusual?”

“He wasn't there for the raid. Turns out, he was a regular at Queen Lil's. That was the friend Jack had been waiting for. The guy behind the door guarded by the police sergeant.”

“Oh no,” Kaz said.

“That was almost the end of my career, then and there. Timilty tore into me like I was responsible for the entire raid, and then demanded to know why I was harassing upstanding young men like the Kennedy brothers, and did I know who their father was. It went on like that for quite a while.”