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‘‘Is there anybody over there?’’ the boatswain’s mate asked.

Cynthia shook her head. ‘‘No,’’ she said. ‘‘And he can’t be found here. Mrs. Whittaker can’t find out that he died in my bed.’’

‘‘Then what we do is carry him over there and put him in his bathroom. Then we figure out who found him and call the cops,’’ the boatswain’s mate said.

There were two ways to handle the situation, Douglass realized. The legal way, which was to telephone the police and hope the circumstances of his death could be kept private. Or to violate the law (which might well be a felony) and do what the boatswain’s mate suggested. Donovan had told him to handle the matter, and that did not mean getting the police and the press involved. Donovan had told Douglass that he planned to bring Whittaker into COI.

‘‘What we will say,’’ Douglass said, ‘‘is that I was sent by Colonel Donovan to pick him up. When there was no answer at the house, I saw lights here, and asked you, Miss Chenowith, to let me into the house—you have a key?— and we found him there.’’

‘‘If he didn’t answer the bell,’’ she said, ‘‘you would be standing on the sidewalk. You couldn’t see light here.’’

He thought that over.

‘‘I was leaving,’’ she said, ‘‘and found you ringing the bell?’’

She thinks under pressure, he thought with admiration. A very tough-minded young woman.

‘‘The first thing we had better do,’’ Douglass said, ‘‘is move the body. Next we’d better run through what we’re going to say happened.’’

‘‘I was thinking,’’ Cynthia Chenowith said, ‘‘that we have to appear completely natural. A suspicious policeman could cause us trouble.’’

‘‘If you’ll carry his clothes, miss,’’ the boatswain’s mate said, ‘‘I’ll move him.’’

‘‘I don’t know your name,’’ Douglass said to the boatswain’s mate.

‘‘Ellis, Captain, Edward B.,’’ the boatswain’s mate said.

‘‘I want you to understand, Ellis, that if it comes down to it, I will accept full responsibility for what we’re doing here today.’’

‘‘I understand that, Captain,’’ Ellis said.

‘‘There are good reasons for doing what we’re doing,’’ Douglass said.

‘‘Yes, sir.’’ Ellis chuckled. ‘‘I understand that, too.’’

‘‘I don’t mean only with regard to Miss Chenowith—’’

Ellis interrupted him. ‘‘I don’t need any explanations, Captain. And I know how to keep my mouth shut.’’

‘‘I’m in your debt,’’ Douglass said.

‘‘Since you brought that up, Captain,’’ Ellis said, ‘‘I may need a character reference. The candy-ass at the dispensary told me that if I left, he’d have me before a court-martial.’’

‘‘When you’re not at the dispensary, what do you do at the Navy Yard?’’

‘‘Work in the arms room,’’ Ellis said. ‘‘They don’t like China sailors over there, and they don’t know what to do with us when we come home.’’

‘‘Are you married?’’

‘‘China sailors don’t get married,’’ Ellis said simply.

‘‘Would you like to come to work for me?’’

‘‘Yes, sir, I would like that.’’

‘‘You don’t know what I do,’’ Douglass said.

‘‘Whatever it is, it looks more interesting than checking out forty-fives to the duty officers and master-at-arms,’’ Ellis said.


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