The White Ghost (Billy Boyle World War II Mystery Book 10) by Benn James R

Author:Benn, James R. [Benn, James R.]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: Crime Fiction / Mystery
Publisher: Soho Press
Published: 2015-09-01T05:00:00+00:00

Chapter Twenty-One

The next morning, Yeoman Howe kept my coffee cup filled as I pecked away at a typewriter outside Captain Ritchie’s office. Which was fortunate, since the bourbon and ice had gone down smoothly last night. I needed the java to counteract a headache and to withstand Ritchie’s prompting to get on with it and type faster. He was definitely the type of officer best experienced through a haze of alcohol.

I worked it like a police report. Short sentences and to the point. I kept the statement focused on Jack and Daniel Tamana, no mention of the other murders. Jack had recently met the deceased. He found the body of the deceased on his morning walk from the hospital grounds. No evidence of any connection between the two other than a brief conversation the day before. Lieutenant Kennedy had been cooperative in all respects. Well, that was laying it on a bit thick, but thick was what Ritchie wanted.

I dated and signed it, and handed it over to Yeoman Howe, who brought it into Ritchie’s office. I helped myself to more coffee with a heaping teaspoon of sugar. One thing about the navy; they had all these ships, and besides fighting, they carried tons of supplies all over the world. Cold beer, ice, sugar, the kinds of things in short supply in North Africa and Sicily—on army bases, at least.

“Very good, Lieutenant Boyle,” Ritchie said, waving the report in my direction as Howe returned to his desk. “See Yeoman Howe if you need anything, and keep me posted.” He shut his door and I could hear him whistling a tune. “I’ll String Along With You,” of course.

“I’m at your service, Lieutenant,” Howe said. “The captain’s a happy man this morning.”

“I live to make captains happy,” I said. “Can you find out if Lieutenant Kazimierz is coming back from Brisbane today?”

“I’ll send a radio message. They’ll have a manifest for the PBY flight and I can find out if he’s on it.”

“Okay. I’m heading over to Sesapi. I’ll call or swing back here later this morning.”

I drove the now familiar route to the PT base at Sesapi, wondering what the payoff would be for Ritchie. A promotion? A job after the war with the Kennedy business empire? Maybe politics? Well, good luck to him, whatever it was. He’d find out soon enough there was always a price to be paid, even when you thought you were square with the Kennedy clan.

I parked the jeep and walked around the fuel dump this time, the odor of gas heavy in the humid air. The tepid harbor water did little to cool the oppressive air. Men were already stripped to the waist, glistening with sweat as they carried supplies aboard PT boats, cleaned machine guns, or worked on engines in what shade they could find. Speed was their best defense, and lives depended on those engines being in top shape. Jack had been idling on only one engine when he’d been hit, and I’d heard him harshly criticized, since it had given him no time to get out of the way of the destroyer.

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