by the King to have natatorium privileges receives a silver key.”
“How many are there?” asked Taggart.
“I don’t keep a list,” he said.
“Fewer than a thousand?” asked the American.
Gaines laughed harshly.
“Fewer than fifty,” he said imperiously.
“Well, that shortens the list,” Taggart said.
“What list?” demanded Gaines as two men wearing the white coats of laboratory technicians appeared at the doorway by the dead penguins. They stopped in their tracks, apparently waiting for further instructions.
Taggart led Liza back to the locker room. Gaines and Drummond followed them.
“Do you see her clothing?” asked Taggart, pointing at the garments and underwear spread across the floor. “It’s flung in every direction.”
“Perhaps she was in a hurry to get into the pool,” offered Gaines. He frowned as Liza began going through the drawers of the dressing table. “You have no right to do that, you know,” he said to her admonishingly.
“She was in a hurry, but it wasn’t to get in the pool, Colonel. It’s obvious that she came here to meet someone,” said Taggart, starting to go through her uniform jacket and greatcoat.
“I don’t know what you’re insinuating, Major.”
“She was obviously here to engage in some privileged fucking,” said Taggart, removing two foil-wrapped condoms from the side pocket of her greatcoat.
“Fucking?” said Gaines, as if he had never heard the word before.
“A tryst, then,” said Taggart. “In your parlance, a rendezvous … an assignation.”
The colonel’s beaklike nose seemed to curdle.
“Lady Dunbar would never have chosen the natatorium for something like that,” he proclaimed.
“You don’t think there’s been some good fucking in the natatorium over the last two hundred years?” said Taggart.
“You are crude and insolent,” declared Colonel Gaines. “If you didn’t have General Manigault’s misplaced confidence, I would demand...”
“Anything else in her clothes?” asked Liza.
Taggart shook his head.
Colonel Gaines’s cheeks had become as red as hot coals.
Taggart turned to Inspector Drummond.
“Isn’t the Yard investigating the murders of several other young women in this city over the last few weeks?”
The old man looked at Gaines, as if waiting for him to speak. When he didn’t, Drummond said, “Very different circumstances, I assure you.”
“I would like to see those crime-scene reports,” said Taggart.
“We’ll take your request under advisement,” said Colonel Gaines.
“Anglo-American cooperation,” said Taggart. Turning to Liza, he asked, “Anything else?”
She nodded. “I would like to participate in the autopsy when Joss is moved to the morgue.”
“So ordered,” said Taggart.
Colonel Gaines glared at the two of them with a contemptuous sneer and said, “Many of us rightly believe that an occupation by the German Wehrmacht would have been preferable to having you Americans here.”
“You wouldn’t have liked their cigarettes,” said Taggart. “Or their coffee.”
He picked up an empty, silver-capped glass vial from the dressing table and headed back into the natatorium. Stooping next to the marble apron, he dipped the vial into the inch-deep pool of Joss’s blood and covered it.
As they were going out the door past Captain Scott’s penguins, he said, “Get this on ice and take it to the military hospital on Curzon Street for analysis.”
“She was pregnant,” whispered Liza as Taggart continued hobbling up the first marble staircase on his bad ankle.
“You deduced that from your three-minute examination?”
“She told me,” said Liza.
“Uhmm,” he muttered, breathing ever more heavily as they climbed the last set of stairs to the entrance vestibule.
“And her locket is missing,” said Liza. “She had a small gold locket that meant a great deal to her. There is an abrasion on the back of her neck from when it was ripped free.”
As Taggart paused to
“How many are there?” asked Taggart.
“I don’t keep a list,” he said.
“Fewer than a thousand?” asked the American.
Gaines laughed harshly.
“Fewer than fifty,” he said imperiously.
“Well, that shortens the list,” Taggart said.
“What list?” demanded Gaines as two men wearing the white coats of laboratory technicians appeared at the doorway by the dead penguins. They stopped in their tracks, apparently waiting for further instructions.
Taggart led Liza back to the locker room. Gaines and Drummond followed them.
“Do you see her clothing?” asked Taggart, pointing at the garments and underwear spread across the floor. “It’s flung in every direction.”
“Perhaps she was in a hurry to get into the pool,” offered Gaines. He frowned as Liza began going through the drawers of the dressing table. “You have no right to do that, you know,” he said to her admonishingly.
“She was in a hurry, but it wasn’t to get in the pool, Colonel. It’s obvious that she came here to meet someone,” said Taggart, starting to go through her uniform jacket and greatcoat.
“I don’t know what you’re insinuating, Major.”
“She was obviously here to engage in some privileged fucking,” said Taggart, removing two foil-wrapped condoms from the side pocket of her greatcoat.
“Fucking?” said Gaines, as if he had never heard the word before.
“A tryst, then,” said Taggart. “In your parlance, a rendezvous … an assignation.”
The colonel’s beaklike nose seemed to curdle.
“Lady Dunbar would never have chosen the natatorium for something like that,” he proclaimed.
“You don’t think there’s been some good fucking in the natatorium over the last two hundred years?” said Taggart.
“You are crude and insolent,” declared Colonel Gaines. “If you didn’t have General Manigault’s misplaced confidence, I would demand...”
“Anything else in her clothes?” asked Liza.
Taggart shook his head.
Colonel Gaines’s cheeks had become as red as hot coals.
Taggart turned to Inspector Drummond.
“Isn’t the Yard investigating the murders of several other young women in this city over the last few weeks?”
The old man looked at Gaines, as if waiting for him to speak. When he didn’t, Drummond said, “Very different circumstances, I assure you.”
“I would like to see those crime-scene reports,” said Taggart.
“We’ll take your request under advisement,” said Colonel Gaines.
“Anglo-American cooperation,” said Taggart. Turning to Liza, he asked, “Anything else?”
She nodded. “I would like to participate in the autopsy when Joss is moved to the morgue.”
“So ordered,” said Taggart.
Colonel Gaines glared at the two of them with a contemptuous sneer and said, “Many of us rightly believe that an occupation by the German Wehrmacht would have been preferable to having you Americans here.”
“You wouldn’t have liked their cigarettes,” said Taggart. “Or their coffee.”
He picked up an empty, silver-capped glass vial from the dressing table and headed back into the natatorium. Stooping next to the marble apron, he dipped the vial into the inch-deep pool of Joss’s blood and covered it.
As they were going out the door past Captain Scott’s penguins, he said, “Get this on ice and take it to the military hospital on Curzon Street for analysis.”
“She was pregnant,” whispered Liza as Taggart continued hobbling up the first marble staircase on his bad ankle.
“You deduced that from your three-minute examination?”
“She told me,” said Liza.
“Uhmm,” he muttered, breathing ever more heavily as they climbed the last set of stairs to the entrance vestibule.
“And her locket is missing,” said Liza. “She had a small gold locket that meant a great deal to her. There is an abrasion on the back of her neck from when it was ripped free.”
As Taggart paused to
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