Chapter 54
CHAMBERS KNEW THAT THE ports of New Orleans, given the snakelike bends and twistings of the Mississippi, were spread out rather than massed at one spot.
He parked in a cracked asphalt lot at the end of Henderson Street and walked toward the warehouses that sat along the river.
The nearest one had its huge doors, set on rollers, open to the heat, and within he could see shadowy figures of large floats, stored here by various Krewes to be brought out during the Mardi Gras parades.
Turning right and walking to the end of the warehouse, he glanced southward.
At the end of the short roadway between warehouses, the muddy brown of the Mississippi was clearly visible—along with a paddle wheel steamboat moored on the near side of the river.
He approached it slowly, intimidated by its opulence.
Gleaming white with red trim, it was gigantic and imposing, with three decks and a pilothouse perched on top.
The name of the boat, FANT?ME, was painted along the side in gold on black.
Two tall stacks in glossy black, with petaled tops, rose amidships, from which twin trails of smoke lazily issued.
Although it was obvious that retrofitting was still being done within the gleaming superstructure, it seemed the engine, or boiler, was already going.
An oversize Stars and Stripes fluttered from a tall jack staff in the bow.
High on the hurricane deck, forward of the two stacks, stood a brass bell, gleaming in the afternoon light.
The final touch was the magnificent stern wheel, also painted bright red, that reposed beneath a brass-clad paddle box.
Chambers could see members of the crew busy on the decks, moving this way and that, dressed smartly in blue blazers with gold buttons and trim.
He had been quite surprised by Magnus’s call that morning inviting him to the interview.
Even more startling was his insistence that Telligren had been murdered.
After receiving the call, Chambers had not been able to get in touch with Pendergast to tell him he’d be coming along for the meeting.
He wasn’t sure how his unpredictable partner would react to it, so he’d arrived early to intercept Pendergast and give them a chance to talk briefly so they wouldn’t be tripping over themselves.
He was also increasingly concerned about how Pendergast would handle the interview, given his absurd declaration the night before that Magnus himself was the killer.
This interview promised to be complicated—and quite possibly even ugly.
At that moment, in the distance, he spied the slender figure of Pendergast, striding along the wharf, his black suit jacket flapping behind him. Pendergast had already seen him, apparently. Chambers waited.
“Well,” Pendergast said, coming up, looking as cool and inscrutable as usual. “If it isn’t my partner, Agent Chambers—what an unexpected pleasure.”
He held out his hand and Chambers took it.
“Am I to assume Dr. Magnus called you?” Pendergast asked.
“He did,” said Chambers, surprised Pendergast had guessed. “He, ah, also seems to believe that Telligren was murdered.”
“Does he indeed?” A troubled look briefly flickered across Pendergast’s pale face before it returned to its neutral detachment.
“I thought,” said Chambers, “we might take a moment just to get our questions in order. So that we present a united, professional front.”
“An excellent idea,” said Pendergast. He paused to make a brief but careful survey of the craft’s superstructure. “Agent Chambers, would you be willing to allow me to lead the questioning?”
“I’ve got to be honest with you, Pendergast: I’m concerned about where you might go with the interview. I mean, do you still think he killed Telligren?”
Pendergast did not answer, and it was hard to tell what he was thinking.
“I’m concerned you might accuse him,” Chambers said.
“It would be counterproductive to do so,” Pendergast replied. “I won’t level any accusations, I assure you. I will be most correct in my questioning.”
“Good to know. But your questioning might still give him the idea he’s under suspicion.”
“He already knows I suspect him. But I promise you, Agent Chambers, I’ll be respectful.
I will ask him why he thinks Telligren was murdered and who he thinks might have done it, and we can hear out his explanation.
I hope you’ll listen to his answers and observe him closely.
” A hesitation. “You see, I believe Magnus intends to… how shall I put it?… toy with us.”
Toy? Chambers didn’t know what Pendergast was talking about. “All right,” he said. “I’ll let you take the lead. But if you start going off the rails, I’ll cut you off fast. Is that clear?”
“Eminently so.”
“Good.” Chambers glanced at his watch. “Five minutes to two. Let’s go.”
A gangplank or stage had been swung out on a boom from the bow, ready for boarding passengers, and they walked toward it. Two crew members, who seemed to be waiting for them, stood at the railing and helped them aboard.
“We’re here to see Dr. Magnus,” said Pendergast.
“He’s expecting you,” said one. “This way.”
They followed him along the deck and through a set of doors into an astonishingly opulent saloon, with rich brocaded wallpaper, cut-glass sconces, polished brass, and a brace of crystal chandeliers.
A staircase led upward to higher deck. They ascended and followed the crew member to a stern cabin along an outside walkway, where he knocked at a small, unmarked door.
A moment later the door opened, and Magnus stood there, also in crisp nautical dress, blue blazer, white pants, and a snowy captain’s hat with a black brim decorated with gold laurels, braid, and anchors.
Magnus’s curls, equally gold, spilled out from under.
“Come in, gentlemen,” said Magnus, stepping aside.
They entered a snug little study, beautifully paneled in oak, with an elegant Persian carpet on the floor, a small chandelier above, and two walls of books in rare bindings.
In an illuminated glass case at one end stood a violin with a bow and a label, in script too small to read at a distance, along with a few photographs and objets d’art.
“Welcome,” he said as the crew member withdrew, shutting the door.
“Please sit down.” He took Chambers lightly by the elbow and steered him toward a plush red-velvet chair, one of a pair opposite an antique desk.
Chambers sat and Pendergast took the other, while Magnus sat himself behind the desk in an old leather chair.
“I’m so glad you could come,” said Magnus.
“I’ve been terribly worried. I wanted to share with you my thoughts on the death of my mentor.
I apologize for bringing you to my study with such haste; I would normally have preferred to give you a tour—of the private quarters, anyway; the rest of the vessel is still being heavily renovated.
The electronics were the first thing to be updated—stuffing the bridge, in particular, with so much cutting-edge nautical equipment that a large crew is not needed—only a single helmsman, in fact, is necessary.
And that is often me. But that also meant clearing out spaces full of antiquated equipment—and, more to the point, redoing the living quarters and staterooms.”
Chambers removed a small tape recorder. “May we record?”
“Of course. Please.”
Chambers pressed the button and quickly went through the preliminaries. “Now,” he said, “I’d like to turn the questioning over to my colleague, Agent Pendergast, who’s expressed an interest in asking you a few questions.”
“By all means,” said Magnus, turning toward Pendergast, a look of pleasant anticipation gathering on his face.
There was a silence, then Pendergast spoke. “Tell me, Dr. Magnus: what is your theory of Dr. Telligren’s death?”
“Thank you for asking,” he said. “I believe my friend was murdered.”
“Indeed?” Pendergast asked.
“Yes. Someone was in the room when he died. Someone who filled out that crossword puzzle you took away.”
“And how do you know this, Dr. Magnus?”
“The handwriting was not Telligren’s. As I told you, the doctor was in the habit of completing the Times-Picayune crossword just before going to bed. But he never used block letters like that. Someone else completed it.”
“And who was this person?” Pendergast asked.
“That’s in fact the reason I wanted you both here—as law enforcement. To hear my suspicions as to who this person is and why I suspect him.”
“Very well,” Pendergast said. “Whom do you suspect?”
“I’m not quite ready to name him, I’ve got no proof. My suspicions rely on… a set of various observations.”
“Such as?”
Magnus hesitated again, then turned to speak to Chambers. “There was a person at the crime scene whom I saw surreptitiously removing evidence. A person, moreover, who had no business being there.”
“What evidence?” asked Chambers, deciding to take the lead.
“I’ll get to that in a moment. This person, furthermore, had a strange and unaccountable antipathy toward Dr. Telligren. He’d recently accused the doctor of heinous criminal behavior.”
“What sort of behavior?” Chambers asked.
“Of being no less than an accessory to murder. Not only that, but the day before Dr. Telligren’s death, this person directly threatened him with personal violence.”
“And how do you know this?” Chambers asked.
“Dr. Telligren told me.”
“What about the autopsy?” said Chambers. “It was pretty conclusive that a heart attack was the cause. How do you explain that?”
“Agent Chambers, that is perhaps the most salient point of all. My suspect has deep medical knowledge. He knew Dr. Telligren had a weak heart. There are several drugs that could be administered to a person with a bad heart to induce a cardiac event—ergotamine derivatives, for example, or sumatriptan. My suspect came that night, administered the drug, and then did the crossword puzzle while he waited for Telligren to die.”
“So how did Telligren ingest this drug?”
“I think the murderer had previously spiked Dr. Telligren’s sherry bottle. He knew that he had a glass before bed, at the same time he did the crossword. Now tell me, Agent Chambers: what would you, as an FBI agent, conclude, given this evidence?”
“Your suspect would certainly be a person of interest.”
Magnus turned. “Agent Pendergast, we haven’t heard from you the last few minutes. What would your thoughts be on the suspect?”
Chambers turned to Pendergast expectantly and was shocked to see the expression of dark amusement on his partner’s face. “Dr. Magnus,” said Pendergast, “you certainly are a droll fellow.”
“Why, thank you,” Magnus replied.
Chambers felt confused. The exchange had suddenly gone over his head, as if Pendergast and Magnus had been sharing a private joke he’d been unaware of.
“So clever of the murderer himself to twist the facts in this way,” Pendergast said, and then to Chambers: “Magnus is about to accuse me of this homicide, of course.”
“What?” cried Chambers.
“He’s right,” Magnus said. “My suspect is you, Agent Pendergast. You visited Dr. Telligren that evening. You drugged his sherry. You waited while he died, coolly doing the crossword puzzle. And you did all this because you believed he was responsible for those horrific serial-killer deaths—deaths that Dr. Telligren somehow created with nefarious medical experimentation but would never, of course, be charged with. You decided to play the avenging angel, didn’t you? ”
Chambers stared at Pendergast, aghast, and then at Magnus, as he mentally ticked off each damning point the man had made.
Could there be truth in such a terrible accusation?
Chambers had known several law enforcement officers who’d taken their work so intensely and emotionally that at times they had been tempted to take justice into their own hands—especially if they suspected the suspect was getting away with it.
None of them, of course, had followed through…
The voice of Magnus intruded into his thoughts. “It is a well-known phenomenon: certain law officers killing a suspect they feared would evade justice.”
Chambers stared at Pendergast, who looked back with a neutral expression.
“How well do you know your partner?” Magnus went on. “As I understand it, he’s new to the FBI.”
Chambers tried to pull his thoughts together. It couldn’t be true. But why wasn’t Pendergast defending himself?
Magnus went on. “I looked into his background, Agent Chambers. It’s the strangest thing—the last half a dozen years of his life are a blank.
Not only that, but he comes from a family in New Orleans with a long history of mental illness and criminal behavior.
His great-aunt poisoned her entire family, for example; she’s currently locked up in an asylum in New York.
And from what I could learn, his brother seems guilty of a long history of criminal acts—although he’s a clever man, not to mention an elusive one. ”
Chambers stared at Pendergast, who remained unperturbed. “What have you to say to these accusations?” he asked.
“You may recall,” Pendergast replied coolly, “that I warned you Magnus was likely to toy with us.”