Reiker For Hire Anthology - Three Novellas: Reiker For Hire - Victorian Detective Murder Mysteries, #4

Reiker For Hire Anthology

3 Novellas

Death Cruise – Hotel of Horror – Murder in the Cards

Copyright 2023 Sylvia Rose, Smashwords Edition

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Reiker For Hire Murder Mysteries

Death Cruise

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Hotel of Horror

Murder in the Cards

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Table of Contents

Death Cruise Chapter One

Death Cruise Chapter Two

Death Cruise Chapter Three

Death Cruise Chapter Four

Death Cruise Chapter Five

Death Cruise Chapter Six

Death Cruise Chapter Seven

About the Author

Website

Blog

As Single Novellas

Reiker For Hire – Death Cruise

Reiker For Hire – Hotel of Horror

Reiker For Hire – Murder in the Cards

Other Books by Sylvia Rose

Lora Ley Fantasy Fiction Series

Gypsy Violin

DEATH CRUISE CHAPTER ONE

German Empire, June 1896

The killer waited.

Darkness filled his eyes with floating shapes. His bones grated on hard wood and he had no room to stretch. He dared not even think, for fear he'd speak aloud. Focus is essential. Breathing deeply, he felt the muscles of his neck and shoulders relax.

Doors and drawers thudded, and voices rose out in the main room. He pictured them in his mind. The man, bald and jowly, would be checking his wallet. The woman, hair coiffed in the latest shade of blonde, gazing at her matronly reflection.

We're not going anywhere, said the man, until I scrape my face.

Herbert Arnold! Hands fluttering. You knew we were leaving early!

You know I read the news before my shave. He pointed to the paper. Escaped Lunatic at Large, a headline read.

We're on vacation. Forget the news. She tossed the paper into the waste basket. We'll have coffee at one of those darling French cafes in Strasbourg. You know it was still part of France less than thirty years ago? It's a lovely day. Do you have your hat, dear? Here's your collar and tie. She flinched. Your skin's like sandpaper. Better shave.

Good idea, Mildred. Why didn't I think of that?

Go on. There are towels in the powder room cabinet.

That place is too small to call a room.

Consider yourself lucky we're on this cruise at all, said Mildred Arnold. Gazing in the vanity mirror, she pinned a feather chapeau into her hair. "The Agrippina II. Our friends are so jealous. You always deride me for those mail-in sweepstakes."

Great. You got lucky. He opened the narrow powder room door. He had a slight disagreement with the doorway. In the end his girth won, and he squeezed into the little space. A cabinet took up half of it. He turned up the lantern and tossed the collar and bow tie on top.

Due to a double boiler and complex system of pipes, Agrippina II boasted the ultimate in luxury engineering – hot running water. Herbert turned a little tap and it drizzled out the faucet. He opened his leather shaving case and splashed water on his face.

With a brisk shake of his head, he reached down to the cabinet. His fingers fuddled with the little door. He felt inside for a towel.

Fierce pain jabbed through his fingers and up his arm. He yanked his hand out and stared in disbelief at the syringe stuck into it. Whatever was in there now burned through his bloodstream. Herbert tried to scream but his mouth filled with bile and he made only a strangled wheezing noise.

What's that, dear? called Mildred. She spritzed herself with rose water. No one answered. Maybe he sneezed. With a moue of impatience she settled into a stuffed armchair and opened a complimentary magazine.

A sickly gurgle came from the powder room.

Hurry up, dear, said Mildred. "We want to catch one of the walking tours through the old town. Looks so quaint in the brochure. Do you have your Kodak? We'll lunch on the terrace at the Parc de l'Orangerie." She glanced at her wrist watch, a slender silver band with miniature clock face. All the ladies wore them these days.

She heard a body thud against the powder room door. It really was cramped. Herbert could barely move without hitting something. Perhaps they should speak to the Captain. She shrugged. Then again, it's a free Rhine cruise. One gets what one pays for.

Are you finished, Herbert? she called.

No answer.

Mildred put down the magazine. She went to the powder room and tried the door. Something held it shut from inside. Herbert? Let me in. She applied her shoulder to the door and shoved. What are you doing in there? Looking at naughty postcards?

The door swung open and she fell through. Her eyes widened. What was left of Herbert sat atop the cabinet. An eye goggled at her.

As she opened her mouth to scream, one of Herbert's ties wound around her neck and compressed her vocal cords. She choked, grasping in vain as strong gloved hands pulled the tie tight. She flailed behind her at an unseen form. Her body shrieked for breath. Her eyes rolled up and her face turned purple. Darkness took over her vision. Her hands fluttered, and flopped at her sides, and moved no more.

The killer kept his grip a few minutes, just to be sure. Four minutes. He felt the pulse of her life ebb and expire. Finally he let go and her body crumpled to the floor. He tossed the tie down beside her. Atop the cabinet Herbert grinned from a lopsided face.

Bon voyage, said the killer. He took off his gloves and black knit mask. The cabin key hung on a hook beside the entrance. With silent step he opened the door and hung the 'Do Not Disturb' sign on the knob. The killer closed and locked the door behind him, and walked on down the hall.

Reiker!

Reiker clapped a hand to his ear and waited for his head to stop ringing. Afternoon, Chief Inspector.

The Chief Inspector came down on him like a vengeful hobbling ogre. He hobbled because, not long ago, a shark bit off his foot and he had a wooden one. He yelled in Reiker's face. What the blazes are you doing here?

Reiker wiped spit from his eye. Just ah, meeting Schneider for lunch.

Schneider looked up from the desk that once had been Reiker's. No, you're not. His mutton chop sideburns framed an unhelpful face.

"You know, Inspector Schneider, a little white lie isn't much to ask, considering you took my job," said Reiker.

Schneider tweaked his mustache. Didn't realize I was in your debt for that.

The wall telephone buzzed. A nearby officer answered. Police.

Sure, Reiker said to Schneider, you're afraid to tarnish your procedurally perfect reputation.

It's for you, Braun, called the officer, holding up the telephone mouthpiece.

I have a stellar reputation, said Schneider. Tap tap tap, said the typewriter. It's a shame you can't say the same. A few officers chuckled.

Are you serious? said Officer Braun on the phone.

My reputation is, I get the job done, said Reiker.

Reiker, hollered the Chief Inspector. Are you still here? Get out. We fight crime, not each other. He grasped the back of Reiker's wool jacket and gave him a push toward the front door. You no longer work here and you can't come in to filch information for your private detective business, and if I ever see you in here again I'll chew your head off to the neck bone.

Reiker straightened his coat. Still haven't forgiven me for retiring, h'm?

The Chief Inspector growled and stalked away. Walls shook as he slammed into his office.

He misses me, said Reiker.

He yells at me instead, said Schneider, but it's just not the same.

I'm not talking to you, said Reiker.

Why, because I wouldn't lie for you? Schneider tapped a sheaf of papers briskly on the desktop and put it in a file.

Are you trying to make me feel guilty? said Reiker.

Is it working?

Keep trying.

Schneider cranked a new piece of paper into his typewriter roller. What do you want, anyway?

Who says I want something? Maybe I'm here to spend time with my erstwhile buddies. Scattered laughter met his words. Reiker grinned, glanced down the hall at the Chief Inspector's closed door, and helped himself to black coffee. They're finally doing the promised renovations of my office and I need a place to sleep for a couple of nights.

Don't you have an apartment yet?

No, that slippery witch of a manageress has nothing free til fall. Still sleeping on the Maneater.

The what?

My office couch. It has a way of sucking you in.

So do you, muttered one of the officers. What about a hotel?

Nice of you to offer, Schmidt, but you're not my type. Schneider, will you shut up that racket a minute?

Schneider paused, fingers hovering over typewriter keys. Unlike some of us, he said, I have work to do.

Oh, you're just full of little gems of nastiness today, aren't you? C'mon Schneider, say yes and I'll go away.

No. Schneider resumed typing.

You won't even know I'm there.

I know you're here. How is it different?

What about a boat trip? said Officer Braun.

They stared at him. He jerked a thumb at the wall phone. Wife won a pair of Rhine cruise tickets. We were planning to board at Heidelberg. Here. He held up a pair of tickets. Turns out we're not going.

Reiker took the tickets. Why not?

Her mother's sick again. Might not get out of the hospital this time.

Reiker patted his shoulder. Sorry to hear that.

Oddly, her health disintegrated when she heard we were going on a week-long cruise without her. He shook his head. Anyway, you can have both tickets. Bring a friend.

I have no friends, said Reiker.

I'm due for time off, said Schneider, whose ears were keen even above the typewriter noise.

So what does that have to do with me? said Reiker.

Schneider sighed. You're right. Even if I went, I'd be stuck with you and your slovenly ways.

There will be other passengers, said Reiker. I'm not planning to change my slovenly ways.

In the office of the Chief Inspector, his private telephone buzzed.

And you know how uneasy I get around strangers, said Schneider.

You have a suspicious mind.

Naturally, said Schneider. It compliments my career choice.

Career? Huh. You'll never get promoted.

You're the one who never got promoted.

Don't knock it, said Reiker They were about to offer me a lucrative desk job.

Right, said Schneider with a sniff. Well, it's probably a cruise for old people.

Officer Braun looked up. The brochure said an exciting adventure of magical moments for young and old alike.

You mean screaming children who run up and down aisles watched by fond smiling grandparents? said Reiker.

Children never used to be so undisciplined, said Braun.

It wouldn't be much fun, said Schneider.

It'll be great, said Reiker. He glanced at the tickets. "The steam wheeler Agrippina II. I've heard of this boat. One of the big pleasure cruisers on the Rhine, three decks, I think. She uses high-pressure steam power and two paddle wheels. Modeled after the original Agrippina, but more glamorous."

The bell rang on Schneider's typewriter, and he made a brisk carriage return. Where's she stop?

Braun scratched his head. After Heidelberg? Worms, then through Loreley Gorge, a couple castles and tourist traps. Check on board to be sure.

I've never been to Worms, said Schneider.

The door to the Chief Inspector's office flew open. Reiker!

Reiker's stomach dropped to his shoes. He drained his coffee. Just leaving, he said.

Get in here, yelled the Chief Inspector, pointing at his office.

Murmurs of 'uh oh' circulated through the room. With a wan smile, Reiker slunk into the Chief Inspector's office. The door thudded behind him. The Chief Inspector strode over in a slightly wobbly way. Sit. He pointed to a wooden swivel chair and seated himself behind his desk.

Reiker sat. I was just leaving. Can you make it fast?

Thunder settled on the Chief Inspector's brow. There's been a murder.

Talk to homicide, said Reiker, starting to rise.

Sit!

Reiker sat.

I would like to engage your services.

Reiker blinked and wiggled a finger in his ear. Seriously? Or is this some kind of setup?

Dead serious. I need a private detective and you're the only one I know.

I'm the only one in town. What can I do for you, Chief Inspector?

The Chief Inspector leaned forward on his elbows, steepling his hands. He tapped his fingers together. "Since you'll be on the Agrippina II anyway, he said, I need intelligence gathered."

Aw, said Reiker. "I knew you missed me. How'd you know I'm going on the Agrippina II?"

The Chief Inspector leaned back and knocked on the thin plywood wall behind him. Just because you can't see me, he said, doesn't mean I can't hear you.

Especially if you put a glass to your ear and hold it against the wall, muttered Reiker.

Just so happens, said the Chief Inspector, "the Captain of the Agrippina II for this trip is Knut Ziegler, a boyhood friend of mine. I joined the police, he went into the Prussian navy. Guess he's doing tourist cruises now. I just got a call asking for help."

Reiker nodded. So you want the cruise tickets, is that it? He tossed them onto the desk. My compliments. He began to stand.

Sit!

Reiker sat.

Crime doesn't take time off, snapped the Chief Inspector, and neither do I. And it's not our jurisdiction. I just want you to investigate. He opened a drawer, took out an envelope and counted off three hundred Marks. Half now and half on completion, that how it works? Knut sounded strange, ranting about missing tourists and murder. Cut the connection before I could get all the facts.

A free vacation and expense money too, thought Reiker. By the time I get back the office will be renovated. Then it's just nag the manageress about an apartment. Sure. I'll do it, he said.

Good decision, said the Chief Inspector with an unaccustomed smile. He held up a finger. Just one thing. Don't tell anyone but Captain Ziegler, who's expecting you at Heidelberg. And take Schneider with you.

That's two things, said Reiker. I have no problem with the first.

Schneider's due for time off. You're a pair of reasonably well-to-do swinging bachelors on vacation, said the Chief Inspector.

Reiker cocked an eyebrow. Reasonably?

The Chief Inspector tossed down another two hundred Marks. Quite.

Right. Reiker made the money disappear into his jacket. What about Schneider?

He'll have his own expense money.

I mean, do I have to take him?

What kind of stupid question is that? Of course you have to take him.

Why? Not much help if he's off duty and out of jurisdiction.

Legally he can still make an arrest, and he's part of your cover. It's a couples' cruise.

Oh yeah? Who's wearing the skirts?

If you don't take him, I'll kill him.

Reiker tried not to smile. Sorry to hear that, Sir.

He has to make three copies of everything. Used up a year's supply of carbon paper in a week. Then the fastidious erasing when he makes a mistake. His file system is a nightmare of cross-references only he can understand. Three secretaries have quit. He requires a written requisition just to take a privy break. He strolls around desks pretending not to inspect every insignificant detail. He writes fifty page reports on workplace efficiency. In triplicate. The Chief Inspector put his head in his hands and sighed.

So you're making it my problem? said Reiker.

C'mon, Reiker, it's a free cruise. He knows nothing about the missing passengers. Just set him in the sun, give him a cold drink and brochures, and you can get a quick look around.

What if I'm giving my second ticket to someone else?

Are you? demanded the Chief Inspector.

Not yet. So what about the homicide? Aren't the police already involved?

Right now it's missing persons.

Persons?

The Chief Inspector played with a pencil. The tour started at the Swiss border. It stops at Strasbourg and Speyer; then up the Neckar River to Heidelberg. He drew an invisible map on his desktop. Follow me so far?

Reiker wrote in his notebook and nodded. Keep going.

Here's what went down to the best of my understanding. Two people got off at Speyer, in fact a lot of people did, to see the old town and the Cathedral. You know it's the biggest Romanesque church in the world, right?

Now I do.

Well, brush up on your art and architecture. You're supposed to be a couple of well-traveled educated gentlemen.

Can't I be my usual slovenly self?

I'm sure you'll find a way. Now, these two people got off and only one got back on. Emilia and Wilhelmine Brecht. Sisters, brunette and blonde. Knut remembers them because they won the cruise in some promotion he doesn't remember. The two women were separated in Speyer, and one sister vanished. The blonde.

They lost a passenger?

Two. Knut called me from Heidelberg. The Chief Inspector nodded toward his private wall phone. Now don't talk, just listen. They docked a few minutes ago. Tragic accident. On the way from Speyer they had a man overboard. Turns out it was Emilia Brecht."

Reiker nodded and wondered. The brunette. Was it a fall? Pushed? Accident? Suicide?

Could be a suicide, said the Chief Inspector. From grief. Despair. Female hysteria, or whatever they call it these days.

Reiker nodded.

But, continued the Chief Inspector, it could have been murder. Whoever made Wilhelmine disappear might be on the ship. Maybe that person killed Emilia too. Pushed her overboard? She got dragged into the paddle wheel. What a mess.

Reiker nodded.

They stopped the paddle wheels to take the body on board. She was badly twisted up. Sent the corpse to the morgue, but the passengers are talking about it.

Reiker nodded.

Aren't you going to say something?

You told me not to.

You never do what I say. Why start now?

How old were these two ladies? said Reiker.

Late fifties. Both widows with comfortable incomes.

Murder? Motivation could be money?

It's possible, said the Chief Inspector, tapping the desk with his pencil. They have plenty of heirs.

What if Emilia killed Wilhelmine, then flung herself off the boat?

Murder suicide? Another possibility. You'll have to talk to the Captain. Go home, pack a bag, I'll give Schneider his vacation money and surprise time off. He rubbed his hands.

I think you want to get rid of Schneider more than you want to solve a murder, said Reiker as he got to his feet.

We don't even know if it's murder, said the Chief Inspector.

Who's going to run homicide if Schneider's not here?

Who do you think? hollered the Chief Inspector, jabbing his thumb at his chest. And there won't be any memos reminding us to save paper, in triplicate. We don't get many murders, anyway. In fact, if you take him along you're preventing one.

Reiker grinned. Schneider had been his assistant for over ten years on the force, and Reiker was used to his foibles and eccentricities. They drove the rest of the station crazy. Right. So we board the boat at Heidelberg?

The Chief Inspector nodded. "Take the train from here and you arrive at Heidelberg in about an hour. The Agrippina II stays overnight and leaves for Worms on the Rhine, after breakfast tomorrow."

I'll see what I can find at Speyer. Is there a ferry?

How should I know? I'm not a travel consultant. I'll have the train tickets waiting for you at the station, that's all. Once you meet Knut, he'll help you with whatever you need.

And the local police? said Reiker. They cooperative?

The Chief Inspector scratched beneath his chin, thinking. He frowned. You know, I don't recall if Knut said anything about the police. He was in a panic, you understand.

Reiker nodded, made a final note and closed his book. At his desk, Schneider was a typewriting dynamo. Clack clack clackety clack. Could be the sound of train wheels, slowing to a stop, as the engineer with mutton chop sideburns peered at you. What? said Schneider.

Chief Inspector wants to see you, said Reiker. He waved to the room and strolled out into the bright afternoon sunshine.

A kitchen knife slammed into a cutting board, spraying blood. Impaled on the knife, a rat twitched, spasmed and died. The Chef pulled up the knife.

Gotcha, damn vermin. He wiped his knife clean on his trousers and picked up the rat by the tail. He stared into its glazed dead eyes. How many's that?

The kitchen apprentice tied on his apron. Seven, Chef Hubert.

Enough for a casserole, you think? Shock came to the face of the apprentice, and the Chef roared with laughter. He flicked the rat into a trash bin. Luxury holiday cruise, my flaming buttocks. Maybe sunny up there - he pointed his knife at the low ceiling, - but down here it's raining rats. Well, scrape the maggots off the pork and we'll have Schweinshaxe on the fine dining menu tonight.

A few people asked for goulash.

That's Hungarian. They want a fiddle player too? Fine then, we'll make a beef stew, they won't know the difference. That ice room isn't cold enough. Cut away the green parts of the meat and use spices to hide unfavorable flavors. Are you noting all this down, Victor?

Yes, Chef Hubert. Spices to hide unfavorable flavors.

That's it. Remember, the meat isn't really rotten. It just tastes rotten.

Victor nodded. He was in his second year of apprenticeship and had already learned a lot from Chef Hubert. Why waste good food just because it went bad?

How many diners? said the Chef.

About forty. The drowning accident and missing person won't be eating but other passengers got on here at Heidelberg. There's always a few more or less. Some have dinner in town.

Ha! Hubert's hand slammed against the wall above the hot grill. The squished remnants of a fly fell into a bubbling pot.

Shouldn't you take that out?

Nah, it's disintegrated now. Boiling kills the germs. He dipped in a spoon and held it toward Victor. Try that and tell me if you taste any flies.

Victor nibbled at the end of the spoon. No, just a burst of paprika heat.

Perfect, said Chef Hubert. So they were murders, were they?

Victor shrugged. A lot of rumors flying around. One went missing, one fell overboard and drowned. They're already calling it the Death Cruise. Just a morbid joke, of course.

The missing sister ever found?

No word. Better start the potatoes if we want enough mash. Victor got a sack of potatoes and began the familiar task of scraping off peel. Food was included in the fare, but as the cruise went on fewer people ate on board. Funny how the other cooks disappear when potatoes need peeling. On a double shift, Victor was stuck with most of the prep.

Hubert took out his dinner roll dough. It was risen. He threw it on a floury board, folded and pounded it. What time is it?

Just before three, first seating at six. Your dough has time to rise again.

Excuse me. A tall man with mutton chop sideburns and curled mustache leaned through the galley door.

Chef Hubert picked up a kitchen knife. No passengers in the galley.

Just a quick word. I'm wondering about this evening's dessert.

Pomegranate soufflé, said Hubert, running his thumb along the knife blade.

No, that won't do, said the man. I have a severe reaction to pomegranate. He tweaked his mustache.

So don't eat it, said Hubert with a scowl.

What about strawberries?

We don't do requests.

We're in Cabin 263.

The assistant looked up from his potatoes. His paring knife paused.

Get out, said the Chef.

Now listen here, my good fellow -

You listen here, said Hubert, advancing on the intruder. It's pomegranate soufflé, and if you don't want it, don't eat it. You get free food. What does it matter?

Schneider pulled himself up to his full height. Beneath his natty leisure suit was the muscle tone of one who was no stranger to boxing and lifting weights. Light glinted from the Chef's knife. For a long moment they stared each other down.

Strawberries, said Schneider.

Out of stock.

It's prime season. Strawberries are on every menu from here to Timbuktu.

That's why they're out of stock. The Chef waggled his knife.

This is highly suspicious, said Schneider.

Is he bothering you guys? A man in a dark brown travel suit and straw boater stuck his head into the galley. He waved. Hi there. We're just leaving. He lowered his voice. Come on, Schneider.

But I want strawberries, whispered Schneider.

Behind his hand Reiker muttered to Chef Hubert, Just smile and nod. He gets these violent attacks sometimes when people make his life difficult. Almost killed a guy on the Danube cruise.

Ah, said the Chef, backing up a step. Whatever the customer wants, he gets.

Excellent, said Schneider. Fresh picked, if you please.

Hubert grit his teeth, smiled and nodded. Reiker ushered Schneider out of the galley and into the narrow corridor. The Chef slammed the door behind them.

Look, said Reiker, I know this is just a vacation but let's not bring any unwanted attention our way.

The Chief Inspector told me live it up as a swinging bachelor, and I intend to do so with flair and finesse. Including preferential menu changes. Relax, Reiker. We're on vacation and I deserve fresh strawberries.

For a moment, Reiker pondered explaining to Schneider they were actually involved in an independent investigation, and Schneider was Reiker's cover, but that was a last-minute stratagem. The less Schneider knew, the better. He'd be sure to overplay it.

An urgent voice came from the next hallway, and Reiker glanced over to see a steward and an older man, probably a supervisor. Apparently the door to 212 had been locked with a 'do not disturb' sign on it since yesterday morning at Strasbourg.

We have to clean the room, the steward said. I knocked, but no answer. Do you think they abandoned ship?

The supervisor opened a small door. Come into the office, Stefan. I have the master keys. We just need Captain's permission to take a look. The steward followed the supervisor into the office, and the door closed behind him.

DEATH CRUISE CHAPTER TWO

Reiker looked at his pocket watch. He had time to go to Speyer, but first, a brief talk with Captain Knut Ziegler. And, put Schneider somewhere he wouldn't hurt himself or others.

Why not go to the top deck and take in the sunshine, said Reiker. You said you wanted to catch up on reading.

Schneider nodded. Yes. He held up three books: The Statistical Occurrence of Homicide; Efficient Office Structure and Management; Forensic Science – A Bold New Frontier. Why? What are you doing?

Getting a ride to Speyer, said Reiker. Thought I'd take a look at the Cathedral and have supper in town.

Sounds good, said Schneider. Count me in.

He swung into a stairwell and clattered up the metal circular stairs. The boat had two polished hardwood decks, three including the sun deck, and a big red paddle wheel on each side. Two steam funnels rose from her midsection. The Agrippina II was named for the famous Rhine steam sailboat Agrippina, in turn named for a famous Roman empress.

After use as a passenger ship, a military vessel and a heavy-haul tug, the original Agrippina met her end in a junkyard in 1846. Larger and more luxurious than her namesake, the Agrippina II was nonetheless lighter, with a shallow draft. She could navigate tributaries and glide beneath arched bridges.

Speyer was on the opposite shore of the Rhine, a roundabout route via Mannheim. Reiker checked the schedule by the information desk. The 15:30 ferry could get him there in plenty of time to look around and ask the right questions.

As Reiker headed back to the cabin he occupied with Schneider, he passed the steward Stefan and his supervisor looking grim. He pivoted on the plush carpet to follow them. They spoke in tones too low to hear as they hurried up a short flight of stairs and turned into the next hallway. Reiker followed casually. Occupied with worries, the two failed to notice.

When they paused at the door of 212, Reiker studied an oil painting on the wall, a big ship under full sail on a choppy blue sea. From the corner of his eye he watched the senior steward rattle the key in the lock. The door opened.

Reiker edged closer as they went into the room. A moment later they emerged, ghastly pale.

You guys all right? said Reiker.

The steward put his hand to his mouth and swallowed. The supervisor shut the door with a quaking hand. Ship business, he said. Carry on.

Okay, said Reiker. When both the steward and supervisor had gone down the hallway, heading for the Captain's office, he opened the door to 212 and walked in. Two bodies lay at odd angles in the powder room.

Reiker crouched beside the bodies. A syringe protruded from a vein on the back of the man's hand. Reiker looked at the syringe from all angles. Seems a toxic substance was injected into the man's bloodstream. The woman's cause of death was uncertain but the marks on her neck and the crumpled silk necktie on the floor were strong hints.

He heard voices outside the cabin and realized he was trapped. He scrambled under one of the beds. A dust ball shot up his left nostril as the cabin door opened and three pairs of feet came in. Reiker held back a sneeze.

The first two belonged to Stefan and the supervisor. The third pair of feet, clad in shining leather, approached the powder room, hesitated and reversed direction in haste. A groan. What is this? How could this happen?

The voice of the supervisor arose. Sorry, Captain. We thought you should see it first. Should we call the police?

What police? said the voice of the Captain. "I'm no doctor but those two people have been dead a couple of days. Stefan says the door's been locked since Strasbourg. Now this on top of possible murders in Speyer. Local police are no good here. It's a job for state police. And you know what happens then. Bellicose bullies pointing pencils. The cruise would be over. Mission failed. The ship seized. My reputation in flames. You know I've never in my illustrious career had a bad spot on my record?

Never had the honor of sailing with you, Sir, said the senior steward. But I hear your record is immaculate.

"Why, when the Agrippina came down the Rhine under full power in 1836, carrying all those brave soldiers, whose commanding figure do you think was at the helm?"

The steward and supervisor exchanged glances. It was unlikely the Captain had served on the original Agrippina sixty years ago. Tall tales aboard ship were common fare.

Ziegler continued. And everyone will be out of a job. You'll all be suspects, especially Stefan.

Me? squeaked the steward. But I didn't -

You don't have to do anything, said the Captain. Often they just want a convenient scapegoat.

And I'm too old to start a new job now, said Klaus the senior steward. I'm retiring next year. If I lose this job I don't get a proper pension.

Doesn't matter if you're in prison, said the steward glumly.

Let's just keep quiet about this, said Captain Ziegler. It's essential our assignment succeed.

You mean the cruise? said the supervisor.

But the police, said the steward.

If we don't tell them, they won't know. You don't go to prison, Klaus has a happy retirement and I retain my spotless reputation.

But it's murder, said the steward.

Did you murder them? said the Captain.

No!

Are you the police?

No, but -

Then how do you know it's murder?

That syringe sticking out of his hand is a hint.

Could be self-inflicted, said Ziegler.

As in a murder suicide? said the supervisor.

What was in the syringe? said Stefan, and stepped forward.

Don't touch it! The Captain's feet recoiled in alarm. You two clean this up. Take what you need from the janitor's storeroom downstairs. Get those bodies out of here. Hide them. Throw them overboard. No don't, they could drift to shore. Make sure to wear gloves and aprons in case of a contagion.

What, said the steward, like the plague?

Or it could be poison, said the supervisor. What if you get it on your skin?

Me? You're handling them too, you know.

But I'm Chief Steward!

Well, now you're a suspect just like the rest of us, and that puts us both on even ground. Come on, let's get this thing done.

Dispose of their baggage, clothes and personals, said Ziegler. Make this cabin spotless, as if they were never aboard the ship at all. Deny everything. We can't allow this … er, inconvenience … to stop us from steaming on.

So this is the game we're playing, thought Reiker as he watched their feet from beneath the bed. He rubbed a finger under his nose as the sneeze reawakened and tried to burst out. Slowly the feeling subsided. He sniffled as the feet moved back and forth. Keys jangled, and the cabin door opened and closed. A key turned in a lock.

Reiker sneezed and inched out from under the bed. Dust balls clung to his shoulders. He brushed himself off quickly and went to the ensuite powder room. Time was essential. Steward and supervisor would soon be back with tools of corpse disposal.

He knelt by the man's body and looked closely at the syringe protruding from a vein in his hand. Much of the hand was corroded but the syringe yet clung. A few drops remained inside.

Reiker pulled out his handkerchief and wrapped it loosely around his hand to guard against a stab by the needle, or leaving fingerprints. Fingerprint analysis was one of the latest breakthroughs in suspect identification. Reiker looked into the little drawer in the cabinet and found an empty glass vial.

He took the needle from its burying place in the hand, and carefully emptied the fluid into the clean vial. He dropped the vial into his pocket and jabbed the needle back into the disintegrating hand.

Reiker rose and crossed the floor silent as a shadow. He noticed a fallen wallet half hidden beneath a chair, put it in his jacket pocket and examined the door lock. Solid. His gun was in his shoulder holster. He could shoot the door open, which would attract all the wrong kind of attention.

He heard noises in the hallway and hid behind a stuffed armchair near the door. A day trip brochure for Strasbourg lay open on the small end table. A lady's slim handbag hung over the chair wing, initials MA elegantly etched in the clasp. Deftly, Reiker took it down to join the wallet in his inside pocket.

The cabin door opened. The steward and supervisor came in with a loaded laundry cart and empty hamper. As they brought their supplies into the room, Reiker slipped out to the hall. He was gone by the time they closed the door.

He hurried down the corridor and emerged on the second floor deck. A couple of golfers practiced their putts. People lounged in wooden chairs, reading or writing or watching passersby.

Agrippina II lay at dock near the Alte Brücke, the arched sandstone Old Bridge of Heidelberg, spanning the Neckar River. Sunlight reflections danced on her hull. Gulls called and rode balmy breezes. A sightseer's paradise, the Neckar was a major Rhine tributary, well traveled since ancient times.

Crew members were already in the river to scrape the hull, check the rudder and clean river weeds from the bright red paddle wheels. People strolled with walking sticks and parasols upon the polished decks. Reiker found the street ramp and disembarked.

People called from booths set up to tempt tourists into sightseeing tours, spicy nighttime adventures or family day trips. A ferry boat pulled up to a small posh crowd at the pier. It would soon be leaving for Speyer and excited confusion ran through the gathered.

Reiker headed for the ticket booth.

You looking for a boat?

At first he thought it was a boy, and was surprised to find a young woman grinning up at him. Bouncy blonde curls gave her the look of a Renaissance angel, and the turn of her mouth hinted at a strong independent streak. She wore the clothes of men, thin wool trousers and rubber boots, a cotton shirt and the omnipresent straw boater, with a colorful ribbon.

What you got? said Reiker.

Come on, I'll show you. Want to go anywhere, I'll take you. Cheaper than the ferry. Name's Addie. She held out a hand. Addie Kranz.

Reiker made a motion, toward the formal hand kiss, and Addie seized his hand and pumped it up and down. Reiker, he managed.

Super, said Addie. Where you going, Herr Reiker? She motioned down the pier, and Reiker walked with her. A number of sailing ships and a few working boats stood at harbor. She pointed to a little red steamboat, like many others flying the black, white and red flag of the German Empire. "That one's mine. The River Maiden."

Wow, said Reiker. She's a beauty.

Isn't she, though? Addie said. "Just had her repainted. My father left her to me in his will. I was a real water rat, used to help him on the