The Mark of Merlin

CHAPTER TEN

When I woke, the room was brilliant with sunlight reflecting off snow. I hadn’t realized my windows faced due east. I lay there for a moment, logy in brain and body. I yawned fit to pop my jaw, covering my mouth belatedly. My watch registered ten and, positive it had stopped the previous night, I wound it. Then I realized Merlin was absent.

I was out of the bed in a single motion, grabbing up my robe on the way to the door. The floor was icy under my bare feet as I flew down the stairs and burst into the kitchen, ignoring the three men, eyes only for Merlin in the corner.

He raised his head weakly, whining a greeting. I could see him gathering his body to rise. The pain of his wounds forced a yip out of him. I signaled him to stay, hurt to the quick of me that my entrance caused him the least unnecessary pain.

I fell on my knees beside him, crooning softly, stroking his muzzle and ears, kissing him, talking to him, in an excessive display of relieved affection. He licked my face, something he rarely did, and lay back with a sigh, letting me fuss over him, answering me with his own version of a croon, deep in his throat.

“He’s all right,” I told the world, dashing tears from my cheeks, only that moment aware I was crying with relief. “He’s all right?” I questioned, turning to DeLord for confirmation.

“Fine. Drank a half gallon of water,” DeLord nodded. “Very good patient. I know plenty could take lessons from this dog.”

“You bet,” Turtle rumbled.

“You!” I began, pointing to the major at the far end of the table. I got to my feet and marched myself over to him, for once at an advantage because he was seated. “You drugged that coffee.”

“Damn well told,” the major agreed. “You were out on your feet and too damned stubborn a little fool to know it.” Having delivered this considered opinion, he calmly continued to eat his breakfast.

“Flapjacks, Little Bit?” asked Turtle, rising and going to the stove.

I glared at him, indecisively. The major wasn’t going to let me pick a quarrel with him and neither was Turtle.

“Okay, okay,” I said, not the least bit gracious, flopping into a chair. “Pull your diversionary tactics. I’ll wait.”

The lieutenant, with what I now realized was an habitual gesture on his part, ducked his head and smoothed the scar crease. I sighed with exasperation.

“You are all alike, all of you, and that includes my fine four-footed friend.” Merlin answered with a placating whine, raising his head from his quilt a few inches before he sighed plaintively and laid down again. I jerked my finger over my shoulder at him, tapping my foot. “Can’t say anything around here.”

“Sleep well?” asked the major politely, but even his mouth twitched in an effort not to laugh at my frustration.

“No fault of yours.” I glared.

“Drink this and shut up,” Turtle ordered, putting coffee in front of me.

“Is it safe?” I asked sarcastically.

Turtle snorted and turned to tend his flapjacks. I sipped rebelliously because I was not going to get anywhere. They had been perfectly justified and I had better adjust to it. As if he sensed my softening, the major leaned forward, touching my arm lightly so I’d look at him.

“Do you remember identifying DeLord last night?”

I glanced, startled, at the lieutenant and then remembered. That did much to restore my battered self-esteem.

“Yes, and I was right, wasn’t I?”

The lieutenant nodded.

“Well,” Major Laird continued, scratching the back of his neck with his forefinger, “he told us why he was masquerading. And it is serious.”

“Dad?” I cried out so sharply Merlin whined. I absently signaled him to stay down.

“No, no, your father knew about it,” DeLord hastened to say. “Although, to be quite candid, I had to suspect him, too.”

“The stamps?” I queried, adding facts up.

The major held up his hand for me to slow down with wild guessing. The lieutenant grinned.

“She’s quick.”

“Let us explain the whole thing, will you, Carlysle,” the major suggested patiently.

“Then Dad was murdered!”

“Carlysle!” the major snapped in an authoritative tone.

DeLord’s hand went up to interrupt the major’s reprimand.

“Yes, only I didn’t know that until last night. It puts another complexion on the whole situation.” His fingers lightly pressed my hand. “Believe me, had we any idea that would happen, we would have acted with more dispatch. But we had only circumstantial evidence that points to the One Hundred and Fifteenth Regiment. As far as my superiors were concerned, it was a serious but not an acute situation. Naturally, I could take only the colonel into my confidence when I was assigned to the case. Matter of fact,” and he grinned ruefully, “the major was one of my prime suspects.”

Incredulous, I stared at my guardian.

“You see, Miss Carla, it had to be someone with enough sophistication to know what to loot.”

“Loot? It was looting?” I glanced at Turtle.

“Yes, looting. Not just trinkets or ghoul jobs on corpses. But items of intrinsic or tangible value. Jewels, stamps as you suggested, even some rare letters and a rare and immeasurably valuable Book of the Hours. Very old, more than priceless to its custodian. These are things an educated man would know to steal.”

“But why was my father murdered?”

“Your father had identified the thief to his satisfaction. He was obviously murdered to keep from disclosing what he knew.”

“For a mess of jewelry and stamps?” I cried, appalled at the horrible, horrible wastefulness.

The lieutenant shook his head slowly from side to side.

“I’m afraid it was more than a mess of jewelry and stamps. The estimated value of the losses is close to several hundred thousand dollars.”

I stared in stunned silence at the lieutenant.

“It took us some time to narrow down our search when the initial reports came in after the Falaise-Argentan pocket was wiped out. There were items stolen by the German Seventh Army that should have been recovered in their baggage vans and weren’t. I was detached from CAO to the MF Double AS

“

“The what?” I asked.

“The Monuments, Fine Arts and Archives Section. So the French wouldn’t find their art treasures on a quick trip overseas to America. All soldiers are light-fingered. Then we found ourselves with too many potential masterminds.” The lieutenant stroked his head but he didn’t smile. “When your father and I crossed paths in Paris that time, I eliminated him completely. I asked him to request a replacement and I’d make sure it was me. Then I could work directly in the regiment without being suspected. We checked everyone. Including you, Major.”

The major was frowning in concentration and suddenly his face cleared. He pointed directly at the lieutenant, snapping his fingers as his thoughts crystallized.

“That lecture on autographs! Bonaparte, Louis, ye gods. I thought you’d gone into battle shock. We were at the assembly area at Montcarnet, right?”

The lieutenant nodded. Regan Laird’s face clouded again, the muscles tightened along his jaw, and his eyes turned bleak.

“That leaves us with

“

“That’s right, Laird.”

“Warren!” I exploded out of my chair. “Warren killed my father.”

“We believe so,” DeLord said quietly.

“Believe so?” I echoed, aggravated at his calmness.

He sighed. “Believe me, I sympathize, Miss Carla. Unfortunately, although my earnest private desire is to arrest Warren immediately - “

“But weren’t you and Dad on the way to arrest Warren the night he murdered Dad?”

DeLord shook his head. “Your father had laid a trap for the looter with several valuable stamps and some jeweled crosses. We had to find them in the thief’s possession, you know, to press charge. Frankly, I hadn’t suspected Warren. I had my eye on one of the Third Battalion smart operators. I thought at the time your father was going to order Warren back to HQ. He should’ve after that stunt with the beetfields!” The lieutenant’s face was grim. “Now I know why, against all logic, your father had to keep Warren on the line.”

“Fer Chrissake!” Turtle growled softly.

“So, after your father died, I had to go on alone, set up another trap which also meant the necessity of -“

“Sucking up to Warren?” Turtle interrupted again, his eyes narrowing.

DeLord nodded. “The bait was taken and then I couldn’t find it!” He grimaced with distaste and dismay. “And that was the hardest blow. It had to be Warren because he was the last person to handle the items. But he didn’t have them and I searched, believe me, I searched. I even drugged his coffee one night to search him personally. And I had to find out how he disposed of the loot. There were some mighty valuable pieces involved by then and they’ve got to be recovered.”

“And my father’s murder is less important than - “

“No, no,” DeLord hastily interrupted, his eyes shocked at that suggestion. “But I didn’t know that until last night. Now the serial number has been filed off the Colt but I think we can get enough to reconstruct it and trace the issuee. Unfortunately, Miss Carla, we have to have proof to bring an officer to court-martial. Proof of murder and proof of grand larceny.”

“But I’m no longer army,” I said through my gritted teeth “and I don’t need any further proof. Warren’s waiting for me in Boston.”

I swung my chair around, grabbing for the pile of letters on the sideboard. The major caught my arm as I passed him and jerked me sharply to my feet. I tried to twist free but he was on his feet, hands on my shoulders, shaking me hard.

“But I’m not having my ward up for murder. Now you stop this ranting around right now

” he gave me a neck-snapping shake, bruising my shoulders with his powerful hands. “You’re army as long as I’m your guardian. Just remember that, Carlysle. And I give the orders. I expect them to be obeyed.”

He forced my chin up, his eyes glinting angrily down at me.

“You don’t go off half-cocked into a battle if you want to win it.” Again he shook me but not so hard, because I knew he was right and he sensed it. “You want Warren? Not half as bad as DeLord, Bailey, I, and the U.S. Army want him. And you’re going to help get him because, my dear ward, you’re the new bait. Someone tried to burgle this house last night. Two attempts no three, were made in Cambridge. Now sit down, and listen.”

He gave me a little push and I stumbled back into my chair, rubbing my shoulders absently.

“We think he’s after the gun. DeLord believes he might be after more than that .”

Merlin interrupted with a bark. His head was turned towards the front of the house and his manner, despite his weakened condition, was alert. He barked again with more strength and struggled to rise.

Turtle was halfway through the corridor before I could force Merlin down. The open door gave a clear view of the front windows and the police car that slid sideways on the snow to a stop in front of the house.

“The shots last night?” DeLord asked.

“The burglary at Mrs. Everett’s,” I countered flatly.

Merlin growled, an angry frustrated snarl of a growl. His head slewed around to the rear of the house. I grabbed at the major’s arm, pointing.

“We’re surrounded,” I cried out, for a navy patrol, led off by two Dobermans straining at their leashes, came tramping out of the scrub at the rear of the house.

“Those shots!” the major said conclusively.

“Christ! Shore Patrol!” Turtle grated out. Two blue jeeps had drawn up beside the police car and armed men were piling out of all three cars.

The policeman gesticulating at the house was cut off bluntly by a gesture from the SP officer. Just then Turtle yanked open the door.

“Whaddya want?”

And the second patrol banged on the back door.

I fell on Merlin to keep him down. DeLord came to my assistance as the major, his face set, went to deal with the rear assault group.

“Let’s see your papers, Major,” a stern voice ordered Laird through Merlin’s snarls.

The Dobermans, aware of another dog’s presence, set up a deafening hullabaloo. I heard a noisy scrambling over the incensed barking and the back door was slammed, cutting the canine chorus down appreciably.

“This is all snafu.” DeLord grinned at me over Merlin’s writhing body.

“Goddamitall, Merlin, at ease!” I ordered, slapping his muzzle in my desperation to keep him from opening his wounds. He whined piteously at the unexpectedly severe reprimand. With an aggrieved expression in his eyes, he had to content himself with growling at the Dobermans who were still roaring outside.

“Come in, Ensign,” Laird was saying. “May I inquire why my house has been surrounded?”

“Your papers, Major!” the shore patrolman repeated flintily. The man had entered the back hall far enough to see the lieutenant and me sprawled across Merlin’s body. He stared at us, turning slightly to expose the drawn thirty-eight in his hand.

“Shut your dogs up, Ensign,” I cried, “Mine’s been wounded and I’ve got to keep him quiet.” With those Dobermans sounding off, Merlin would not relax.

“Ensign, I’m Lieutenant Robert DeLord, Provost Marshal, on special assignment with Major Laird and Sergeant Bailey.” The authority in his voice was incongruous with his semirecumbent position.

The coastguardsman had to crouch to see the lieutenant.

“If you’ll muzzle your dogs, I can get up and show you my identification.”

“Belay those dogs, mister!” the ensign bellowed, his volume equal to Turtle’s parade voice. The Dobermans were silenced.

At this point, Turtle stomped back into the kitchen, his face black with indignant anger. A police officer and another shore patrol j.g. followed him. I could see two men taking positions at the front door. One carried a tommy gun at the ready.

“You get up, Merlin, and I’ll whip you. Whip you. Hear?” I muttered savagely before I scrambled to my feet. Cold air swirled around my bare toes.

“Close that door!” I cried.

“Chrissake, Lieutenant, they think we’re Nazis, landed by sub last night!” announced Turtle at the top of his lungs, his Dorchester accent unmistakable. No Nazi was that good an imitator.

Laird was now showing the ensign his orders. The sandpeep’s manners thawed considerably.

“Thank you, sir. Lieutenant?” and the ensign took the major’s papers over to his j.g.

The kitchen, large enough for many, seemed awfully crowded with armed and angry men.

“These look all right,” the j.g. remarked dubiously, passing them on to the policeman who waved them aside. He had been staring in an unpleasant way at the major.

“Eyah. I know Laird.”

At the curiously antagonistic comment, Regan Laird turned his face slightly to the left so that his good profile was in full view of the policeman. The man nodded coldly.

“Eyah, that’s Regan Laird.”

“Beatty,” the major said by way of greeting.

“Who are these others, then?” demanded the j.g.

The policeman lifted heavy shoulders in a shrug.

“I’ll vouch for them,” the major said quickly. “Both the sergeant and the lieutenant served with me in the Fifth Corps.”

“The lieutenant says he’s provost marshal,” the ensign tacked on.

DeLord bore the keen scrutiny with poise.

“Know about the shooting last night?” the shore patrolman asked.

“Yes.” DeLord’s flat answer was intended to discourage further questions.

“I have to ask for an explanation, lieutenant,” the j.g. insisted, shifting his weight.

“Will you tell them to shut that front door?” I hissed, seizing my opportunity.

“Who are you?” the policeman asked.

“I’m James Carlysle Murdock,” I said, with a grimace, steeling myself for the inevitable reaction.

“My ward,” the major inserted. “The daughter of my commanding officer who was killed in Europe.”

Questions were effectively silenced and the intruders shuffled nervously. I saw the j.g. give a signal and I heard the door close.

The policeman was looking at me speculatively now.

“I want to know about those shots, too,” he asserted, looking from me to the major. Laird gestured to DeLord.

I made a quick bet with myself, and won. DeLord ducked his head and fingered his scar.

“We had an unexpected visitor last night,” the lieutenant said, having gathered his thoughts together. “Naturally we took off after him. So did the dog and when the burglar’s accomplice took a shot at Merlin, well, naturally we took defensive action.”

“Did it occur to you that you would alarm the coast with such unauthorized gunfire?” the j.g, snapped in an acid voice. “Don’t you guys know there’s a .” He stopped. He had the decency to look abashed as his eyes darted to the major’s ruined face. His own countenance turned bright red with embarrassment. Turtle’s surly growl indicated his opinion of the navy.

“No, I’m afraid it didn’t,” DeLord replied with more humility than I’d have used under the circumstances. “For one thing,” and I couldn’t see why he felt he had to justify our actions, “Miss Murdock’s dog was seriously wounded. For another, we have no way of communicating with the authorities.”

“Well,” the j.g. grumbled, “this isn’t our jurisdiction at all then.” He saluted the major, jerked his head significantly at the ensign in lieu of an order. The front-door party of patrolmen withdrew with what I considered rather bad grace since we were not at fault.

“A moment, Ensign,” DeLord said after Turtle closed the hall door on the first group. “Any of your men trained in veterinary skills? I’d appreciate someone looking at the shepherd.”

“Sure, Lieutenant, just a minute.” The ensign was not at all disgruntled.

“That can wait,” said the policeman officiously. “I’ve a few questions.”

“They’ve waited this long, they can wait a little longer,” I retorted, glaring at him.

He turned his head in my direction slowly and gave me a long look, compounded of annoyance that I had spoken in the first place, then insolence as he realized I was older than I looked.

“It won’t take a moment,” the lieutenant assured Beatty diplomatically.

I began not to like this young man suddenly.

Beatty ignored the lieutenant, pulling a slip of paper out of his pocket. He consulted it for a moment.

“I’ve been asked by the Cambridge police to question a James Carlysle Murdock concerning a burglary in her boardinghouse room . Burglary! And you had one last night, too? Whatinhell’s going on here?” and he glared around menacingly.

The ensign returned with a sailor who pushed past the major with a polite excuse and suppressed curiosity.

“Evans has had some training, miss,” the ensign said and we all stepped aside for the sailor to look at Merlin.

“Merlin! Friend,” I told the dog as Evans, his face lighting with admiration for the shepherd, bent slowly, his hand extended.

Merlin whined, licked his lips, but let the sailor examine his head.

“That’s a bad crease, miss, but it’s clean.”

“We dug a bullet out of his shoulder,” the lieutenant said.

Evans turned back the quilt and whistled. I heard him pull in his breath sharply as he saw the wound. He put the quilt back and stood up.

“That’s beyond me, sir. And he’s too good a dog not to have the best.”

Evans turned to me, his face eager. “Ever thought of donating him to the K-9 Corps?”

Turtle snorted. I held up a warning hand.

“He’s been in, sailor,” I said gravely.

I know it was outrageous to imply that Merlin had seen service and been retired honorably but I didn’t want him belittled any further with explanations after his heroism of the night before.

Evans’ eyes widened and he saluted.

“There’s a good vet in Hyannis, miss. With the ensign’s permission, I’ll give him a call. He’ll come out if I say so.”

“We’d appreciate it, sailor,” the major said smoothly, moving to my side, his manner, for some reason, protective. I glanced up at him inquiringly and caught, out of the side of my vision, the smirk on Beatty’s face. I didn’t like it.

“Thank you, Evans,” I said, not to let the major do the honors for me exclusively.

The Coast Guard contingent left with expressions of apology and good will. Merlin growled low in his throat as the Dobermans’ baying announced withdrawal.

“All right, now,” Beatty said. He pulled a chair from the table and sat himself down, opening his heavy coat, taking out report forms, and a pen, his long, lantern-jawed, mulish face disagreeable.

“I want a few things cleared up on the civilian level,” he said nastily.

I saw the lieutenant ease himself out to the study.

“There’s been some hanky-panky heyah that I don’t miss even if you pulled rank and all on them sandpeeps.”

“I’m sorry, officer,” the lieutenant said smoothly. He held out to the policeman a small leather case and a folded sheet of army issue paper. “This matter is now classified.”

“Whatinhell you say?” He reluctantly took the papers from DeLord. His eyes widened with outraged surprise. “I don’t believe it. Burglaries? Classified?”

“I’m working out of Fort Edwards at the moment. Call CID for verification. This is my code number.”

I began to like the lieutenant again.

“I don’t like it,” Beatty said flatly. He thrust the chair back angrily as he rose. “I don’t like it one bit.” He waved a finger under DeLord’s nose, his anger growing with each shake. “And don’t think for one moment, Lieutenant, that I’m not going to call Edwards. There’s something godal-mighty fishy about this. Burglaries! Shooting!” He turned to include me in his catalog. “Wards! Hell. I know you too well, Regan Laird.”

“Now, wait a minute,” Turtle growled, placing himself belligerently in Beatty’s path. “You don’t - “

“You look familiar, Sergeant,” Beatty interrupted him pugnaciously, his lantern jaw jutting out. “You at Edwards?”

“Bailey’s just back from Germany,” Laird intervened. At his stern look, Turtle stood aside as Beatty, casting one more meaningful sneer over his shoulder, stalked out the door. Merlin’s soft snarl summed up my feelings exactly.

“I don’t think we’ve seen the last of him,” the lieutenant remarked ruefully, his hand reaching for his head.

“Leave that damn thing alone,” I snapped with irritation, pulling a chair near the stove and curling my cold feet under me.

“Edwards does know?” the major asked hopefully.

“Oh, indeed, they do,” DeLord replied. “You know this Beatty fellow?”

The major sat down heavily, lighting a cigarette and inhaling deeply before he answered. “Beatty and I have had a few run-ins before.”

“Speeding?” I taunted flippantly.

The major shook his head. “Long before I started driving, Carlysle, and long before he got on the force. I came here for summers as a child, you know.”

“No, I didn’t know,” I said caustically.

He ignored me. “If my memory serves me correctly, the initial engagement was fought over some crabs.”

“Crabs?” Turtle exploded. Merlin barked.

“Crabs,” the major reaffirmed, amusement lighting his face. The lieutenant began to chuckle. “I believe we were about ten at the time. I lost all the crabs I’d caught - a whole morning’s work - and came home without the net and with a black eye.”

“And Beatty?” I prompted hopefully.

“Oh, he was crabless too, and minus a front tooth.”

“And you’re still fighting over that?”

“No,” Laird allowed, setting his jaw against what he had no intention of discussing. “There were a few other minor disagreements.”.

Turtle chuckled understandingly and had that special look which I had learned meant members of my sex were involved.

“However,” and the major’s attitude changed abruptly as he turned to me, “it only points up my reasons for wanting you out of here.”

“That?” I exclaimed, gesturing at the door where Beatty had exited.

“That!” Laird repeated emphatically. “I don’t trust Beatty’s discretion any further than I can throw him. And I would if it’d serve any purpose. It’s going to be all over Orleans that I have a good-looking adolescent ward - “

“I am not adolescent,” I objected strenuously. I did not fail to catch the other adjective and treasured it.

“Shut up. And that’s going to ruin your reputation.”

“But Turtle and the lieutenant are here

“

“Turtle possibly constitutes a chaperon but the lieutenant? Sorry, Mrs. Grundy says no.”

“A backhanded compliment if ever I had one.” DeLord chuckled and then hastened, spurred by Major Laird’s angry look, to add his weight to the argument. “But the major’s right, Miss Carla. Beatty is no gentleman.”

“Now, wait a minute,” I suggested, my dander rising on several fronts, “there’s one helluva lot more at stake than my reputation. About which I’m not worried.” I glared at all of them impartially. “Have you so easily forgotten my father’s murder? You started to outline what we were going to do next to trap Warren. And I warn you, all of you, I’m not giving up that little item. I want Warren up for court-martial, you, the major, the shore patrol, Beatty, and the entire town of Orleans notwithstanding.” I looked at each man belligerently, knowing I had a very strong case.

“Furthermore, Merlin can’t be moved. And if I’m not here, he plain won’t eat. You’re not going to sacrifice him to convention, are you? Because I won’t.”

“That C. G. rating said he’d call the vet,” the major said evasively. “Maybe he can be moved.”

“Over snowy roads, in a jeep?” I asked sarcastically. “Ever done it, wounded?” and bit my lip because the look on Turtle’s face, not to mention the major’s, gave me a definitive answer to that. I swallowed and changed my tactics. “That burglar last night wasn’t Warren because Donald Warren would have frozen solid with fright if Merlin were anywhere near him. But I’ll bet Warren hired him.”

“How would Warren know where you were?” the major countered.

“Ahh,” I cried in exasperation. “He wrote me at the Cambridge address, didn’t he? He was to be in Boston the twenty-eighth, he and his precious Marian. One quick phone call to Mrs. Everett to arrange a state visit from Lieutenant Colonel and Mrs. Donald Warren, sweetly simpering, sympathetic, solicitous sickening!” I waved my hands, erasing the scene. “And Mrs. Everett who is a sweet lady is not very bright. ‘Oh, I’m so sorry. But she’s staying with her guardian on Cape Cod,’” and I mimicked the Dorchester accent. “Sure they know where I am. And you may be damned sure they didn’t tell their second-story man my dog was here, particularly if it’s the same thug who tried to burgle Mrs. Everett’s.”

“Which brings up another point,” the lieutenant interrupted. “I’d like your permission to go through your father’s footlocker, Miss Carla.”

“Of course. We’ve been theorizing entirely too much.”

“Get dressed first, Carlysle,” the major ordered as I led the way upstairs.

I got as far as the door to the little back room before Regan Laird caught up with me. He picked me up bodily and turned me around. He marched me back to my bedroom and thrust me inside. The room was frigid as I’d left the door open.

“It’s freezing in here,” I complained as he shut me in.

“Too bad. Teach you to shut doors in the future. But you don’t leave that room until you’re warmly dressed.”

“I want to be there when - “

“We won’t touch your father’s things till you’re present,” he snapped. “Now dress. On the double.”