I needed several things. I needed to know if the division was shipping out soon. I needed to see where Galante’s body had been left. And I needed help. I needed Kaz. Kaz would be an extra set of eyes and ears, not to mention someone smart enough to figure out what was going on. I needed Lieutenant Baron Piotr Augustus Kazimierz.
Kaz had been my best friend since I got shipped over here in 1942. He’d been on General Eisenhower’s staff as a translator, mostly as a courtesy to the Polish government-in-exile. Kaz was the last survivor of his family, alive only because he’d been studying in England when the Germans invaded Poland. His entire family had been killed, wiped out by the Nazis as they eliminated the educated elite of the country. Kaz wanted to serve, but a heart condition had kept him out of uniform. He finally talked his way in, as a translator for Uncle Ike. He was a skinny, bookish kid, and the idea was he could work in an office and do his bit.
Kaz’s father had seen what was coming, and deposited the bulk of the family fortune in Swiss banks. As a result, Kaz was filthy rich. Rich enough to permanently keep a suite of rooms at the Dorchester hotel in London, the same suite where he and his family had celebrated their last Christmas together. I bunked with Kaz when I was in London and felt the ghosts of his past life drift by us in the ornate high-ceilinged rooms. One of those ghosts was Daphne, the love of Kaz’s life. Sister of Diana Seaton. Maybe that’s why I worried about Diana so much. I didn’t want to become scarred like Kaz.
Kaz wore a physical scar as well. An explosion-the same explosion that had killed Daphne-had ripped his face from the corner of one eye down to the cheekbone. The injury and the loss had changed him. For a long time, he hadn’t cared whether he lived or died, and I felt it was my job to keep life interesting enough for him to hang around. Lately, he’d turned a corner. He’d begun working out, building himself up, but for what I didn’t know. All I did know is that he had more brains than ten other guys put together and wasn’t afraid to use the Webley break-top revolver he wore. I could use both kinds of firepower. I decided to radio Colonel Harding and ask for Kaz to be sent down from London.
The column finally passed and the traffic moved along, toward Caserta. I ran through the leads I had to follow. Pay a visit to Bar Raffaele in Acerra and see what the scuffle was all about, and why Landry and Flint went down there to pay damages. Find out whom Louie owed his next paycheck to. Go back and find Major Arnold, Schleck’s second-in-command, and see if he’d be more talkative. Ask Sergeant Jim Cole why he didn’t tell me about knowing Landry and Galante. An infantry division is a big place, about fourteen thousand guys at full strength. He should have mentioned it, even if it was only a coincidence. He didn’t, and I wanted to know why. I also needed to find out how Galante had gotten a squad killed, and why Cole was supposed to know about that. Maybe it was just a rumor that Schleck glommed onto, but if true, it would be a motive for revenge. Then ask the same question around the 32nd Station Hospital, and see what Galante’s colleagues had to say.
It was a lot of legwork, and none of it might end up being important. But it gave me the illusion of being on the right track, and I might get lucky and stumble onto something I’d recognize as a clue. After an hour of stop- and-go traffic, I parked in front of the Caserta HQ and went to see Major Kearns. My plan was to send the radio message to Harding, then look at where Galante’s body was found before it got too dark. Then Cole, then chow, and onto the officer’s club to practice my interrogation skills at the bar. It was a good plan, except that it didn’t hold much promise in terms of solving the murders.
“Billy!” A familiar voice echoed in the hallway leading to Kearns’s office.
“Kaz,” I said, turning to find him behind me. “What are you doing here? I was on my way to radio Harding to ask for you.”
“He sent me immediately, but we had aircraft trouble and I was stuck at Malta for a day. It’s good to see you, Billy.” We shook hands warmly, both of us glad to be working together again. As usual, Kaz looked perfect in his tailored British battle dress uniform, complete with the red shoulder patch with “Poland” inscribed in bold letters. His blue eyes shone eagerly behind his steel-rimmed spectacles, and as usual the Webley revolver was at his hip.
“Do you know what’s going on here?” I asked.
“Yes. Colonel Harding briefed me in London, and I saw Major Kearns twenty minutes ago. He told me to find Sergeant James Cole in CID, and that he’d tell me where you were. But he wasn’t in.”
“I’m glad you’re here, Kaz.”
“As am I,” he said. We stood in silence for a heartbeat, the bonds of mourning, suffering, and hardship still strong-so strong that there were no words for it, none that I understood, anyway.
“Let’s take a walk,” I said, putting my arm around Kaz’s shoulder. “I haven’t seen where Captain Galante’s body was found yet. Then we’ll look for Cole.” We walked through the gardens, beautiful even with tents and vehicles marring the landscape. A waterway led from the palace down the gentle slope to the Fountain of Diana and Actaeon. As we drew closer, the formal gardens became wilder, and smooth marble gave way to rough stone, creating the effect of entering a wilderness.
“Apparently the major was lured here,” said Kaz. “One wonders why he was placed in this particular location.”
“Out of the way?”
“Surely. But why was that important?”
“I don’t know. Not a lot about this makes sense.”
“Ah,” Kaz said as the final pool of water came into sight. “Diana and Actaeon. You know the story?”
“It was explained to me,” I said. “Guy got turned into a stag for daring to look at a naked goddess, then got ripped apart by his own hunting dogs.” A small waterfall descended over moss-covered rocks, between two sculptures. Diana on one side, covering her nudity, and Actaeon on the other, being brought down by hounds. It was an oddly private place, sunken from view, surrounded on three sides by trees and shrubs. Not a bad place to stash a body. “I saw this place once before, but I’d forgotten how hidden it was.”
“The report said Galante’s body was laid out at the wall of the pool,” Kaz said.
“Over here. There are still some chalk marks,” I said.
“Interesting,” Kaz said. “He’s facing Actaeon.”
“So?”
“Perhaps nothing,” he said, squatting down to get a corpse-eye view of the fountain. “It just strikes me as odd. This is a public place, although hidden from view until you come upon it. I don’t think the killer’s objective was to hide the body, at least not for very long.”
“Right,” I said. “He could’ve put it in among the trees and shrubs. That would have bought him more time.”
“I wonder if this placement was a statement.”
“What kind of statement?”
“That Captain Galante had seen something, as Actaeon had. Something that must be kept hidden from human eyes. Once he’d seen it, his fate was sealed.”
“Listen, Kaz, this is a nice quiet place, a good place for a killing. The murderer brings Galante down here under some pretense, strangles him after a short struggle, then rolls his body next to that wall. Short and sweet. No mythological psychiatric mumbo jumbo.”
“Perhaps, Billy. I admit to a weakness for the old myths. The killer might also.” I looked at the statues, and thought about my father telling me there was no such thing as a coincidence.
“You might be right about Galante being killed because he saw something. We have to find out what.” This was why I needed Kaz, to help me see what was staring me right in the face.
“What do you make of the playing cards?” Kaz asked as we trudged back to the palace. The sky was darkening with low, gray clouds rolling in.
“It could be part of some crazy game. Or it could be to throw us off the scent. Maybe these two guys were the only targets, and by using the ten and the jack, he’s got us worrying about the next victim instead of focusing on Landry and Galante.”
“It could have been just one of them, with the second man killed to confuse us.”
“I’m confused enough as it is. The only thing I’ve found out is that Cole held something back from me. He’s only been with CID a short time. Before that he served in the 3rd Division and knew everyone in Landry’s platoon. They all refuse to talk about it, as if they’re protecting him. Colonel Schleck, who runs Personnel for the division, says Galante got a squad killed, and that Cole knows all about it.”
“Do you think it’s true?”
