Crescent Dawn (Dirk Pitt 21)
“Are you hurt?” Summer asked, moving on to untie the sheet binding Julie’s arms.
“No . . . I’m okay,” she stuttered, fighting back tears of fear and relief rolled into one. “Just a little scared.”
She quickly regained her composure while finding a steady voice.
“He was actually quite gentle. I don’t think he meant to harm me.”
“It was just one man?”
Julie nodded.
“Did you see what he looked like?”
“No, I’m afraid not. I think he was hiding in the bathroom, and I walked right past. He turned the lights off, then threw that pillowcase over my head. I don’t have a clue what he looked like. I just remember that his clothes seemed lumpy or padded.”
The hotel manager soon arrived, followed by a pair of Canterbury police officers. They carefully searched the room, then took a detailed report from Julie, Summer, and the maid. The historian had left her purse in the room, but it wasn’t taken by the thief. Julie looked at Summer with dread when she realized that the only item missing from the room was Kitchener’s diary.
“Typical hotel burglary attempt,” Summer heard one of the officers tell the hotel manager out in the corridor. “She obviously surprised him in the room, and he decided to tie her up before fleeing. I don’t have to tell you that there’s a slim chance of catching the bugger.”
“Yes, unfortunately I’ve seen it before,” the manager replied. “Thank you, Detective.”
The hotel manager returned to the room and apologized profusely to Julie, promising to have increased security on the floor all night. After he left, Summer offered to let Julie sleep in her room.
“Yes, if you don’t mind, I think I’d be much more comfortable,” she said. “Let me grab my toothbrush.”
Julie walked into the bathroom, then suddenly called to Summer.
“What is it, Julie?” she said, rushing in.
Julie stood with a grim look on her face, pointing to a small vanity mirror next to the sink. The room thief had left her a warning, written in her own pink lipstick, on the mirror. Pointed and succinct, it said simply, “Let K be.”
29
JULIE AWOKE THE NEXT MORNING AFTER A FITFUL NIGHT’S sleep. Her sense of fear and anxiety had gradually evolved into a feeling of indignant violation. Rising early, she found herself burning with anger.
“Who could have known that we discovered the diary?” she said, pacing the floor of the hotel room. “We had only just found it ourselves.”
Summer was in the bathroom, fixing her hair. “Perhaps he didn’t actually know about the diary,” she replied. “He might have just been trying to find out what you knew and got lucky.”
“I suppose it’s possible. But why the warning? What is it about Kitchener’s death nearly a century after the fact that someone would still be afraid of?”
Summer sprayed on a touch of perfume, then joined Julie in the bedroom. “I’d say one thing is certain. It h
as to be someone who knows more than we do about either the Manifest or the sinking of the Hampshire.”
“Or both,” Julie concurred. She caught a whiff of Summer’s perfume. “That’s a lovely fragrance,” she said.
“Thank you. It was a gift from a friend of mine in British Columbia.”
“The cologne,” Julie suddenly blurted. “I nearly forgot. The intruder who tied me up last night had the scent of men’s cologne. I’m sure it was the same fragrance as worn by that fellow we met at Lambeth Library.”
“You mean Mr. Baker? Do you think it was him?”
“I’m not sure about anything at the moment, but I think it could have been him. Don’t you remember? He asked us about the diary. I thought it was a bit odd, at the time.”
“You’re right. We’ll check with the library when we get back to London,” Summer said. “I’m sure there’s a good chance the librarian will be able to identify him.”
Julie was slightly relieved, but the revelation only fueled her inquisitiveness.