The Richard Deming Mystery MEGAPACK™: 15 Classic Crime & Mystery Stories
- Автор: Деминг Ричард
- Год: 2015
- Язык: английский
- Год: Wildside Press
- ISBN: 9781479406159
- Жанр: Другие детективы
Электронная книга - «The Richard Deming Mystery MEGAPACK™: 15 Classic Crime & Mystery Stories». Краткое содержание книги:
Ellen gave him a quick glance. “What do you mean?”
“Maybe I’m over imaginative, but I got the impression the big-shouldered man looked out the window to see if any witnesses were around. I know this sounds melodramatic, but if that picnic group hadn’t been there, I suspect they were planning to take over the boat.”
Ellen’s eyes grew enormous. “You’re kidding! Why would they do a thing like that? You think they’re criminals running from the law?”
“Criminals on the lam wouldn’t pick a conveyance that only travels four miles an hour,” Faraday said drily. “I don’t think they were just looking for any old boat. I think they came down here with their brand new fishing togs this morning as a deliberate excuse to meet us and get aboard this particular boat.”
“But that’s ridiculous,” she said. “How would they know we’d be here? We didn’t know ourselves we were going to anchor here until we pulled in last night.”
“Our trip was no secret, Ellen. Anyone who wanted to take the trouble could easily have found out about it. And at fifty miles a day, they could just as easily keep track of our progress from shore.”
“But why?” Ellen asked. “What on earth would be the percentage of going to all that trouble to hijack an old tub like this? They couldn’t get away with it anyway. It won’t go anywhere but downstream.”
“Did you get the impression they might be foreigners?” he asked.
“Foreigners? Of course not. They’re from Massachusetts.”
“I could say I was from the moon, but that wouldn’t make it so. Just for the sake of argument, let’s assume they’re a couple of foreign agents. Begin to make sense?”
She stared at him. “Your formula,” she breathed.
“Theorem, not formula,” he said patiently. “I don’t know what good it would do a spy, even if he got me to explain it, because they can read the theorem in any scientific journal in about a month. If they’re looking for the formula for the new rocket fuel the news magazines have been playing up, they’re chasing the wrong guy. I couldn’t tell anybody how to build a rocket fuel.”
“There’s no reason spies would know that, after all your publicity as the man who will send us beyond the stars. I think we should get in touch with the FBI.”
“My work isn’t top secret,” Faraday said reasonably. “Or at least it shouldn’t be, and probably won’t be when Max Abbott and Earl Laing get through pounding some sense into those pinheads in Washington. Besides, what would we tell the FBI? That a couple of men claiming to be electronic engineers from Massachusetts offered to buy passage on our boat?”
“It was you who suggested they were spies.”
“I’ve been reading too much Ian Fleming,” Faraday said. “But I still think there was something shady about them. I think we’ll get out of here and pick up water farther downstream.”
He went over to the gangplank, drew it aboard and started the motor. As soon as it turned over, he pulled in the anchor, engaged the prop and steered the boat out into the channel. Then he cut the motor and let the houseboat drift.
Ten miles downstream they spotted a boat livery. Faraday restarted the motor and pulled over to the dock to take on drinking water. They didn’t discuss their strange visitors any more all day, but when it began to grow dark and Faraday showed no sign of looking for a mooring, Ellen didn’t ask any questions. He knew by her silence that the two men were still as much on her mind as on his.
“I thought we’d go on a few miles after dark,” he said laconically. “I’ll set out the running lights.”
He lit four Coleman lanterns and set them fore and aft, to port and starboard, then started the outboard motor.
“We may as well make a little time,” he said. “I don’t want to run in the dark too long.”
The outboard motor was twenty-five horsepower, which would have pushed the twelve-to-fifteen-foot boat it was designed for along at a clip of from thirty to thirty-five miles an hour. But was barely enough to give the heavy houseboat headway. Against the current the boat would have stood still. With the current helping, it moved along at about eight miles an hour.
About two hours after dusk the lights of Natchez appeared ahead.
“We’ve made nearly seventy miles,” Faraday said. “Guess we’ll call it a day.”
Every night up until now he had moored on the west side of the river, because the main channel tended to hug that bank. Tonight he steered over to the Louisiana side, well out of the channel.
Without comment Ellen went to the bow and began taking soundings with a leaded line as they neared the far bank. As the flat-bottomed boat drew only three feet, there wasn’t much danger of running aground, and there wouldn’t be a serious problem even if they did, but Faraday liked to know what kind of water he was getting into.
They edged over a sandbar which showed a depth of only four feet before the water began to deepen again and they found themselves in a small, currentless cove. The Coleman lanterns threw enough light for Faraday to see the river bank. It was low and marshy and there was no sign of habitation along it. A dozen feet away from the bank he cut the motor and threw out the anchor.
Ellen came back from the bow, glanced toward the Mississippi shore and said casually, “Think they can see our lights from over there?”
“There won’t be any to see, except through our windows, in a couple of minutes,” he said. “From that distance nobody will be able to tell if the windows are in a houseboat, or just in a cottage near the bank.”
He shut the valves of all the Coleman lanterns except one, and carried that into the galley. They had a cup of coffee, then he carried the lantern into the bunk room they were using so that they could see to undress for bed.
“You think maybe we should have contacted the FBI just in case?” Ellen asked as he kissed her goodnight.
“They probably weren’t foreign agents,” he said. “They couldn’t find us here anyway. They’d be looking fifteen to twenty miles back on the other side of the river. Stop worrying and go to sleep.”
The next morning he wished he had called the FBI.
Ellen was still dressing when he entered the galley. He came to an abrupt halt in the doorway when he saw the two men seated side-by-side on the opposite side of the table, facing the door. They were dressed the same as the day before, except that their hats lay on top of the refrigerator. Two small overnight bags stood on the floor in one corner.
“How the devil did you get here?” Faraday demanded.
“We borrowed a rowboat,” the thin-nosed man said. “Since we lacked the owner’s permission, we thought it would be unwise to keep it. We set it adrift.”
The bulky man said, “Your lights made it just as easy to keep track of your boat as in the daytime. We appreciate your lighting them.”
Faraday heard a gasp of surprise and turned to find Ellen behind him. He moved on into the galley.
“Since you have no boat, I guess you’ll have to swim,” he said ominously. “Want to dive in yourselves, or be tossed overboard?”
The tall man raised his hand from his lap. There was a thirty-eight revolver in it. Ellen emitted another little gasp.
“Sit down, both of you,” the man with the gun suggested.
After staring at the gun for a moment, Faraday quietly pulled out a chair for Ellen. When she sank into it, he sat next to her, so that they faced the two men on the other side of the table.
“We don’t want any trouble,” the tall man said. “If you cooperate, we will let you enjoy the rest of the voyage. If you insist on being difficult, we will have to tie Mrs. Faraday to her bunk.”