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“Lured backstage?”
“It’s a locked, off-limits area. The killer had a key. And I say ‘lured’ because it is hard to imagine a passenger going back there without some good reason.”
“Any suspects?”
“Not yet. We’ve questioned the sister, who said only that she was to meet her sister at the theater ahead of time, hoping to get an autograph from Braddock Wiley. They knew no one else on board and hadn’t made any acquaintances—their goal, she says, was to be together, not meet men or socialize. She said they have no enemies, haven’t had any incidents or altercations on board. In short, Berkshire seems to have been a random victim.”
“Any sign of rape or a sexual assault?”
“I’m not a doctor, Captain.”
Cutter turned to the chief medical officer. “Dr. Grandine?”
The doctor cleared his throat. “Captain, this is really terrible, a shock to us all—”
“Any sign of rape or sexual assault?” came the crisp repetition.
“You must understand we have no facilities on board to do an autopsy, and in any case I’m not qualified. My training in forensic medicine is minimal and many years out of date. We’ve refrigerated the body for medical examination once we reach port. I haven’t examined the body in detail—and any effort to do so on my part would only create a problem for the M.E. later.”
Cutter stared at the doctor, his eyes glittering with his obvious low opinion of the man. “Show me the body.”
This demand was met with disbelieving silence.
“Very well, but I warn you it isn’t pretty—”
“Doctor, you will confine your comments to factual matters.”
“Yes, of course.” Very unwillingly the doctor unlocked a door at the back of the office and they filed into a cramped room that—among other things—functioned as the ship’s morgue. It smelt strongly of chemicals. Along the far wall were nine stainless steel drawers for holding cadavers. Nine seemed like a lot, but Kemper knew well that plenty of people died aboard ship, especially given the average age of the cruise ship passenger and their propensity, once on board, to overindulge in the food, drink, and sexual departments.
The doctor unlocked one of the middle compartments and slid out a drawer beyond, revealing a semi-transparent plastic body bag. Kemper could see a vague, pink thing inside. A queasy feeling formed in the pit of his stomach.
“Open it.”
Kemper had already examined the body, hardly knowing what to look for. The last thing he wanted was to see it again.
Hesitantly, the doctor unzipped the bag. The commodore reached over and spread the zipper apart, exposing the naked body. A huge, cleaved wound, splitting the chest and penetrating the heart, stared back at them. The smell of formalin rose up.
Kemper swallowed.
A cultivated voice sounded behind them. “Excuse me, ladies and gentlemen?” Kemper turned to see, in utter disbelief, Pendergast standing in the door.
“Who the devil is this?” demanded the commodore.
Kemper rushed over. “Mr. Pendergast, this is a
very
private meeting, and you must leave here immediately!”
“Must I?” Pendergast drawled.
Kemper’s queasiness was replaced with irritation. This was the last straw. “Pendergast, I’m not going to warn you again—”
He paused in midsentence, mouth open: Pendergast had removed his wallet and flipped it open, revealing a gold FBI shield. Kemper stared at it in disbelief.
“Why aren’t you escorting that man out of here?” the commodore asked.
Kemper couldn’t quite find the words. Any words.
“I had hoped to complete this voyage incognito, as it were,” Pendergast said. “But it seems the time has come to offer you my assistance, Mr. Kemper; my professional assistance this time around. The sad truth is, Ispecialize in this sort of thing.” He glided past Kemper and strolled up to the body.
“Mr. Kemper, I told you to get this man
out
!”
“Commodore, I’m sorry, it seems he’s a federal agent . . .” Again words failed Kemper.
Pendergast showed his shield to each person in turn, then went back to examining the body.
“He has no jurisdiction here,” the commodore snapped. “We’re in international waters on a British ship registered in Liberia.”
Pendergast straightened up. “Quite true. I realize I have no authority here, and remain at your sufferance alone. But I should be surprised if you refused my help, seeing as how none of you appear to have the faintest idea what to do aboutthis .” He nodded to the body. “How would things look if it were later revealed that the ship’s officers refused the help of a special agent of the FBI who was highly trained in evidence gathering and forensic work?” He smiled coldly. “At least, if you accept my help, you’ll have someone to blame later—no?”
He cast a pale glance around the room.
Nobody spoke.
Pendergast clasped his hands behind his back. “Doctor? You should take vaginal, anal, and oral swabs from the victim and check for the presence of sperm.”
“Swabs,” the doctor repeated in a low murmur.
“I assume you have Q-tips and a microscope handy, yes? I thought as much. And surely you know what a sperm cell looks like? A drop of Eosin Y will bring up the highlights. Second, a careful visual examination of the vaginal and anal areas should reveal any telltale swelling, redness, or injury. It is essential to know as soon as possible if this is a sexual crime or . . . something else. Also, draw blood and do a blood alcohol reading.”
He turned. “Mr. Kemper? I would immediately place plastic bags over the victim’s hands, securing them tightly at the wrist with rubber bands. If the victim fought her attacker, the fingernails might contain traces of skin or hair.”
Kemper nodded. “I’ll do that.”
“You’ve saved the victim’s clothes?”
“Yes. Sealed in plastic bags.”
“Excellent.” Pendergast turned to address the group as a whole. “There are some unpleasant truths that need to be said. Two people have disappeared, and now this. I believe the disappearances are co
“Mr. Pendergast—” Kemper began to object.
Pendergast held up his hand. “Let me finish, if you please. A serial killer on board—who is escalating . He was content to toss the first two overboard. But this one—no. This was much more dramatic—much more in keeping, in fact, with the earlier murder I’m investigating. Why? That remains to be seen.”
More silence.
“As you point out, the killer had a key to the backstage door. But do not be fooled into assuming the killer is a crew member.”
“Who said it was a
crew