West of Guam Read Online Free PDF Page B

stern, the rear of the boat,” Jo said slowly. “It isn’t far. You’ll find steps there—they lead down to the ship’s brig, jail, or what-not. That’s where we’re going, Burker.”
    The private’s body stiffened. Jo Gar slipped his right hand into the right pocket of his duck trousers.
    “If I were to squeeze the trigger again it would not click, Burker,” he warned. “Possibly you know why.”
    The former orderly’s face was turned towards Gar’s. His facial muscles were twitching. He smiled with an effort.
    “You got me wrong,” he stated. “I don’t know what you’re gettin’ at.”
    Jo Gar smiled with his thin lips. He spoke in a low voice.
    “You contradict yourself, Private,” he advised. “However, I want your nerves to relax. I want you to have quiet. Please walk aft, Private. That’s—fine.”
    It was five minutes of four. The Thomas was steaming westward; a mild breeze was kicking up some white through the blue-green tropical water. The water, however, was not rough. It was very hot. Colonel Dunbar drank ice water, and cursed. Major Jones dabbed at his face with a damp handkerchief. He would have preferred to wipe his face, but his bristling mustache prevented that.
    “The men are holding up well, all things considered,” he stated. “This murder has given them something to talk about. I hear they are laying bets—”
    “Hell!” The colonel snorted the word. “What sort of bets?”
    “Three to one that this Jo Gar won’t produce the killer before we reach port,” the major stated. “And I don’t see how the odds got that low.”
    The colonel snorted again. “From what I hear he’s asked questions of about everybody on board,” he stated. “And he’s learned nothing of importance.”
    Jo Gar bowed slightly from the open door of the cabin. The colonel reddened. He muttered something about “gum-shoes.”
    Jo spoke cheerfully.
    “I have located the murderer of Captain Lintwell, Colonel,” he announced.
    The commanding officer stared at Jo. Major Jones stared, too. He spoke crisply.
    “Who, Mr. Gar?”
    Jo seated himself in a chair. He smiled faintly at the colonel.
    “I said that I had located him. But there are a few questions, first.
    He is aboard the transport.”
    Major Jones swore. The colonel looked disgusted.
    “I dislike such humor, Mr. Gar,” he muttered. “Of course he’s aboard.”
    “He might have gone over the side,” Jo pointed out. “He might have been someone not accounted for in the roll call check-ups. Someone who came aboard at Guam.”
    The colonel grunted. Major Jones smiled cynically.
    “But he wasn’t,” Jo said quietly. “And therefore Private Burker is confined under guard—”
    “Burker!” The colonel’s face was red. “That dumb orderly? Are you sure, Gar?”
    Jo fingered one of the peculiar, brown-papered cigarettes, of which he seemed to have an unlimited supply.
    “The murderer of Captain Lintwell,” he stated slowly, “was not dumb, Colonel. You may remember that sergeant who ran wild—Schaeffer. He injured two of the ship’s crew. He is still in the ship’s hospital, and in bad shape. Investigation showed me that his Service Colt had never been found. Lieutenant Grace, his immediate superior, felt that he had thrown it overboard.
    “I had doubts. Particularly so, after my examination of all the .45s aboard, after the murder. None had been cleaned recently—and that was what I had thought I might be able to determine. Sergeant Schaeffer did not toss his Colt overboard, before he was calmed down. It was used to murder Captain Lintwell.”
    Colonel Dunbar stared at Jo Gar.
    “Burker!” he muttered. “And I thought he was dumb—talking about going—‘up front’—after being aboard three weeks!”
    Jo Gar smiled. “That struck me as peculiar, when you told me about it, Colonel,” he stated. “So I looked over his service records. He was a seaman for eight years, before he entered the army, some two years