The Transatlantic Conspiracy (11 page)

“Right, but I can't imagine he would break into someone's compartment and then kill two people upon discovery,” Rosalind said. “So either it wasn't him, or else he had quite a different purpose than theft.”

“And also, I suppose now would be a foolish time to stage a robbery,” Alix noted.

Rosalind paused and stood still. “How do you mean?”

“Well
. . .
the second day of the journey?” Alix shook her head. “If the man were a thief, if he had more courage and cleverness than we are giving him credit for, then he would also have better sense. He'd wait until the last day. Wait until we are pulling into the station. The police might never catch him then. But if he committed a crime last night? The entire train would be in an uproar over the theft. Baggage searched, rooms examined.”

Rosalind nodded slowly. Alix was absolutely right about that. “He would have no place to run to,” she said. “A whole week left before landfall. He'd be discovered for sure. What could he have been thinking? That he would escape in a submarine? It's ridiculous.”

Alix looked down at her hands, her lips twisting into a narrow frown. After a while, she looked up at Rosalind. “So you think Cecily was killed
. . .
for another reason?”

Rosalind nodded. She disliked the very notion, but there it was. “As unthinkable as it is, it's far more plausible than the idea that someone would kill her simply for the sake of robbing her when they had no hope of escape for five days.”

“Who would want to do such a thing?” Alix asked. “And why? Cecily was the kindest, gentlest person in the world.”

“I know,” Rosalind said. “Mistaken identity, perhaps? Someone else was the intended victim, but the killer got the wrong room?”

“But as with robbery, why not wait until the end of the journey?” Alix asked.

“I
. . .
I don't know.” Rosalind sighed and pressed her palms against her temples. This was going to get them nowhere, and in the meantime she would drive herself mad with questions and uncertainty. “There must be a reason.”

Alix stood and quickly took Rosalind's hands in hers. “We
will
find the answer. Please don't do yourself harm trying to unravel it all.”

Rosalind took a few deep breaths and nodded. “Of course.”

“Now, I am going to reserve a table for some late breakfast,” Alix said. “I think it is very important that you and I try to act as normal as possible while we are trapped down here, yes?”

“Yes, you are right, Alix,” Rosalind agreed, taking another deep breath. “Normalcy. We should set a routine and follow it. Though I don't know how much I can bear being around people.”

“We will try a little bit at a time,
ja?
” Alix said. “I do hope that I am not included in ‘people.' ” She looked away, the cloud of sorrow again haunting her face. “I don't think I want to be alone right now.”

Rosalind reached out to give Alix's hand a firm squeeze. “You're certainly not ‘people,' Alix,” she said. “You're a friend. And while I don't think I can bear a crowd for very long, I don't want to be alone, either.”

Chapter Twelve

W
hile Rosalind was relieved to spend the day entirely in Alix's company, she couldn't help but dwell on dark thoughts, regrets, and guilt. She found herself reliving the events of the previous night, questioning whether Cecily's murder had been avoidable. If it was somehow her fault. If she had only gone to check on her friend
. . .
If she had only stopped by on her way to the ball
. . .
If she had only
. . .

After eating, they ensconced themselves in a corner of the Red Parlor. As they settled into the plush armchairs, the speakers in the room crackled to life with a loud whistle. Rosalind immediately tensed. She exchanged a nervous look with Alix. Was the captain going to mention what had happened? Surely, no
. . .
A double murder would be cause to panic.

As always, the captain's tinny announcement came first in German and then in English. “Good day, ladies and gentlemen. This is your captain speaking. We hope that you are enjoying your journey after last night's festivities. Today we are entirely at sea and tomorrow we will stop for the evening at the Neptune Station, in the middle of the Atlantic.”

Rosalind sighed. “Just when I thought that a walk might do me some good,” she joked grimly.

“You sound like Cecily,” Alix said. She chuckled softly, but then the two of them looked away and fell silent. The captain was babbling in German again. Suddenly Alix started glaring at the nearest speaker. “Of all the
. . .
” she muttered.

“What is it?” Rosalind asked.

Alix held up a hand for silence. But Rosalind did not have to wait long for her answer, for the captain began repeating the latest portion of his message in English:

“Now, you may have heard some rumors regarding an unfortunate incident that took place onboard the train last night. I shall not go into details. Rest assured that everything is under control and there is no cause for concern. Please disregard any gossip you may hear regarding the matter. I would caution you all against idle speculation. Do not disturb your neighbors with unfounded rumors. Thank you, that is all.”

Rosalind felt her cheeks burning with anger. So that was his strategy for quelling panic. She couldn't believe it. Idle speculation? Rumors? Gossip? He'd just engaged in all three. Worse, he was treating Cecily's death like it hadn't even happened.

“They don't want anyone finding out,” Alix said.

“Of course they don't,” Rosalind hissed. “More to the point, they don't want all the passengers demanding that they reverse course, return to Hamburg, and give them their money back.”

“I suppose they would.” Alix nodded with understanding.

“I certainly would,” Rosalind said.

“Shouldn't we tell someone?” Alix asked. “People deserve to know.”

Rosalind nodded, looking off across the room. Her eyes came to rest on a man reading a newspaper at one of the nearby tables. He glanced in her direction, but when he realized that he had been seen, he quickly buried his nose back in his paper. But Rosalind recognized him. He had been with Bauer the night before. And he had been in the library car that first evening, pretending to be the librarian. Only he wasn't a librarian. He was one of Bauer's henchmen.

Lowering her voice, she said to Alix, “You see that man there?” She nodded slightly in his direction with her head.

“Yes,” Alix answered, sounding very confused. “Why?”

“I think he works for Inspector Bauer,” Rosalind said. “He was the one who raced after him in the dining car our first night aboard.”

Alix's eyes became as wide as saucers. She huddled back into her chair, suddenly afraid.

“You don't think he's
. . .
he's spying on us, do you?”

“I'm certain of it,” Rosalind replied. “I think Bauer is having us watched, to be sure we don't tell anyone about what happened.”

The sense of panic was even stronger now. Rosalind gripped the armrests of her chair in an effort to steady herself.
Bauer is just taking precautions.
He doesn't want a panic
, she reminded herself. Father wouldn't have wanted a panic, either. They were young, and they were female, and so Bauer didn't trust their discretion. It was that simple.

Rosalind rose to her feet and grabbed Alix's hand. “Come along,” she said, “let's get some fresh air.”

•••

The race to the
arboreal car, while tugging Alix along behind her, felt rather like a dream—or more accurately, a nightmare. Rosalind kept looking over her shoulder to be sure Bauer's man was not following them, though there were so many nondescript men in suits about that it was impossible to determine which of them might be with the police. The only real clue she could think of was that a policeman could not afford the expensive clothes of a gentleman, so she kept alert for any men in First Class wearing cheap, drab suits.

“Rosalind, please go slower,” Alix begged. “You are hurting my arm.”

“Oh
. . .
” Rosalind said, pausing to turn. “I'm so sorry
. . .
” Her voice died when she saw one of the porters moving down the corridor behind them, carrying an armload of boxes. His mouth was concealed behind his burden, but Rosalind could see his eyes. Was he following them? Was
he
one of Bauer's men as well?

“My, you're in a hurry, Fräulein Wallace,” a voice said.

“Oh, my goodness!” she exclaimed. She whirled around and almost slammed into Erich. He was alone. “Herr Steiner! I am so very sorry!”

Erich looked perplexed, but he kept smiling. “Good afternoon,” he said, straightening his tie. He glanced at Alix and gave her a polite nod. “And hello to you, Lady von Hessen. Fancy meeting the two of you here.”

“In the corridor?” Alix asked.

“It doesn't seem all that far-fetched,” Rosalind agreed.

“No, no,” he said with a short laugh. He furrowed his brow. “What I mean is that Jacob and I were very concerned when you disappeared last night. We were afraid we may have done something to offend you.”

“Oh. Oh, goodness, no—” Rosalind's throat caught. “It's just
. . .
Well, it's complicated.”

“I can only imagine,” Erich said. “To have missed such a wonderful ball, you must have had something important to attend to. But it is amusing, because I have spent all day looking for you to apologize and to inquire what might be the problem. And now here you are.”

Rosalind swallowed, willing herself not to cry. “I assure you, our disappearance last night is nothing to do with you.”

“I am relieved to hear it,” Erich said genially, either not noticing their distress or pretending not to. “And Jacob will be relieved as well.”

“We're just going to the
. . .
” Rosalind began.

“Yes?” Erich asked, a little too eagerly.

“We're just going to the arboreal car,” she finished.

“Oh, what a coincidence,” Erich said. “I was thinking of going there, too. May I join you?”

“Well, um
. . .
” Rosalind stammered.

“Say yes,” Alix breathed in her ear.

Rosalind laughed awkwardly. But she rallied and gave Erich a nod.

“Your company would be much appreciated, Herr Steiner,” she said.

Oh, God, why did everything in life have to be so confusing?

•••

By the time he'd
led the way to the arboretum, she'd reined in her muddled thoughts. The rush of fresh air was a welcome relief, despite the crowd of First Class passengers who'd clearly had the same idea. Spotting an empty clearing with a pair of wrought-iron benches, Rosalind slumped into one of them, grateful to be off her unsteady feet. Alix sat beside her.

“Now then, what became of you two last night?” Erich asked as he seated himself on the bench across from them.

“Umm
. . .
” Rosalind said. “I am terribly sorry, Herr Steiner—”

“I would prefer that you called me Erich.”

After a little hesitation, Rosalind nodded. “If you insist, Erich.”

“I do, Fräulein Wallace,” Erich said, his eyes twinkling.

“If I am going to call you by your Christian name,” Rosalind said, “presumably you ought to do the same. Erich.”

“As you like, Rose—”

“You may continue to call me Lady von Hessen,” Alix interrupted.

Erich blinked, but his smile didn't waver. “As you wish, my lady. Now then, last night
. . .
”

“I am sorry,” Rosalind said, “but I really don't wish to speak about it.”

He leaned forward, his expression one of deep concern. “Yes, of course, as you like,” he said. “Never let it be said that I am a man who intrudes upon a lady's private affairs.”

“Thank you,” Rosalind said. “It is appreciated.”

“But of course,” Erich told her. “Mmm, tell me though, did you hear that announcement from the captain a few minutes ago?”

Alix fidgeted beside her. Rosalind started to feel queasy. “We did, yes,” she answered.

“I do not want you to think me a gossip,” Erich said, lowering his voice, “but I have a tidbit to share about that.”

Rosalind leaned back against the cold metal of the bench. This was awkward. Yes, she was curious about what Erich might think he knew, but under no circumstances did she want to be caught discussing it.

“Oh?” Alix asked in the silence, her tone both demanding and skeptical. In that one word she had summed up Rosalind's true feelings on the matter.

Erich slid forward in his seat. “I heard that there was a robbery last night,” he whispered. “Can you believe it?”

Rosalind stopped breathing.

“No,” Alix said dully. “You can't be serious.”

Was that sarcasm? Rosalind eyed her. Why was Alix playing along? That would be a horrid thing to do, wouldn't it, knowing what they knew? But perhaps it was simply her way of managing her grief. Or it might be more than that: a shrewd effort not to draw attention to themselves and their loss.

“Of course, there is no need to fear,” Erich said quickly, straightening his posture. “I understand that they caught the man. Some Second Class passenger. People these days, you know. You cannot trust anyone, can you?”

“So it seems,” Alix agreed softly. She stared down at her lap.

“Erich,” Rosalind said, “how did you come to hear about this? Who told you?”

Erich seemed surprised. “No one told me,” he replied. “Well, Jacob did. He overheard it at breakfast. I thought you might be interested. It's exciting
. . .
isn't it?”

Rosalind wanted to scream. Exciting? No, that would not be her word of choice to describe last night's horror. But it seemed Erich was simply trying to impress her with some idle gossip. The captain's strategy had been tailor-made to backfire; she could imagine
everyone
on the train gossiping now. Still, if Erich and Jacob had found out about Bauer's inane theory regarding the botched robbery, who might be spreading the rumors? No wonder Bauer's men were stalking her: they probably suspected that she and Alix were the source. The situation was staggering in its irony.

Alix's mouth twisted into a frown. She stood. “I think
. . .
” she began. “I think I am going to find Jacob and have a few words with him.”

“Not on my account, I hope,” Erich said breezily. “It's just a rumor, you know. Though I am certain Jacob would be glad to see you.”

Alix nodded. She placed a hand on Rosalind's shoulder. “If I do not see you before this evening,” she said, “dinner?”

“Yes, of course,” Rosalind agreed.

With that, Alix gave Erich another polite nod. But as she left, she said something in German that made him raise his eyebrows.

“What did she say to you?” Rosalind asked once Alix had vanished in the direction of the sleeper cars.

Erich snickered. “She said that she would leave you in my care, and that she expected me to behave as an absolute gentleman. On pain of death by hatpin.”

That made Rosalind smile, if only briefly.

“I don't know what good talking to Jacob will do,” Erich continued. “He just overheard some idle chat at breakfast.”

“Perhaps,” Rosalind agreed, “but I suspect she will feel better for it.”

“There's no danger,” Erich reassured her.

Rosalind opened her mouth, but no words would come. She wanted to play along now, too, as Alix had. She wanted so desperately to agree with Erich. But the lump in her throat swelled once more. A tear fell from her cheek. She brushed it aside and sniffed, staring straight at him. “Erich, Cecily was murdered last night.”