my research on Kitchener.”
“Not an old secretary, or perhaps the wife of a fellow officer?” Summer asked.
Julie shook her head.
“How about a pet name for one of his aides?”
“No, I should think there would be references in his correspondence somewhere, but I don’t recall seeing it.”
“It doesn’t seem right that he would trust a casual acquaintance with the document. How about the other name, Emily?”
Julie thought for a moment as she waited to enter a traffic roundabout that led to downtown Canterbury.
“I can recall two Emilys, actually. Kitchener’s maternal grand-mother was named Emily, though she was long dead by 1916. Then there was his oldest brother, who had a granddaughter named Emily. I’ll have to check my genealogy records when we get to the hotel to see when she was born. Her father, Kitchener’s nephew, was named Hal. He used to visit Broome Park rather regularly.”
“So the younger Emily would actually be a cousin to Aldrich?” Summer asked.
“Yes, that would be correct. Perhaps we can talk to Aldrich about her in the morning.”
Julie had reached the city center and drove Summer slowly past Canterbury’s famed historic cathedral. A few blocks away, she turned into the Chaucer Hotel, one of the city’s modest old inns. After checking into neighboring rooms, the women met for dinner in the hotel restaurant. Summer devoured a large plate of fish and chips, not realizing how hungry the day’s excursion had made her. Julie nearly matched her appetite, pushing away a plate cleaned of pasta.
“If you’d like to walk the meal off, we can take a stroll over to the cathedral,” Julie offered.
“I appreciate the tour-guide offer,” Summer replied, “but, to be honest, I’d like to spend some more time analyzing Kitchener’s diary.”
Julie beamed at the reply. “I was hoping you’d say that. I’ve been anxious to study the writings since we checked in.”
“There’s a quiet lounge off the lobby. How about we order some tea and take another pass through the diary there? I’ll take notes while you read this time,” she added with a smile.
“That would be lovely,” Julie agreed. “I’ll go get the diary and a notebook from my room and meet you there.”
She climbed the stairs to the second floor and entered her room, then hesitated when she noticed her work papers strewn across the bed. The door suddenly slammed shut behind her as the lights were flicked off. A shadow approached as she started to scream, but a gloved hand quickly covered her mouth before her voice could resonate. Another arm slipped around her waist and pulled her tight against the assailant, who seemed to be wearing padded clothing. Then a deep voice grunted in her ear.
“Don’t make a sound or you’ll never live to see the dawn.”
28
Summer waited in the lounge twenty minutes before phoning Julie’s room. Receiving no answer, she waited another five minutes, then went upstairs and knocked on her door. Her concern heightened when she noticed a “Do Not Disturb” sign dangling from the doorknob. She saw a night maid was working her way down the corridor turning down beds and convinced her to check Julie’s room. Opening the door and turning on the light, the maid gasped in shock.
Julie was seated on the floor with her arms behind her back and tied to the bed frame with a sheet. Another sheet was wrapped around her ankles, while a pillowcase covered her head. A desperate wiggling of her arms and legs revealed that she was very much alive.
Summer burst past the maid and ripped the pillowcase off Julie’s head. Julie’s wide eyes looked at Summer in relief as the American untied a knotted stocking that was wrapped around Julie’s head in a gag.
“Are you hurt?” Summer asked, moving on to untie the sheet binding Julie’s arms.
“No… I’m okay,” she stuttered, fighting back tears of fear and relief rolled into one. “Just a little scared.”
She quickly regained her composure while finding a steady voice.
“He was actually quite gentle. I don’t think he meant to harm me.”
“It was just one man?”
Julie nodded.
“Did you see what he looked like?”
“No, I’m afraid not. I think he was hiding in the bathroom, and I walked right past. He turned the lights off, then threw that pillowcase over my head. I don’t have a clue what he looked like. I just remember that his clothes seemed lumpy or padded.”
The hotel manager soon arrived, followed by a pair of Canterbury police officers. They carefully searched the room, then took a detailed report from Julie, Summer, and the maid. The historian had left her purse in the room, but it wasn’t taken by the thief. Julie looked at Summer with dread when she realized that the only item missing from the room was Kitchener’s diary.
“Typical hotel burglary attempt,” Summer heard one of the officers tell the hotel manager out in the corridor. “She obviously surprised him in the room, and he decided to tie her up before fleeing. I don’t have to tell you that there’s a slim chance of catching the bugger.”
“Yes, unfortunately I’ve seen it before,” the manager replied. “Thank you, Detective.”
The hotel manager returned to the room and apologized profusely to Julie, promising to have increased security on the floor all night. After he left, Summer offered to let Julie sleep in her room.
“Yes, if you don’t mind, I think I’d be much more comfortable,” she said. “Let me grab my toothbrush.”
Julie walked into the bathroom, then suddenly called to Summer.
“What is it, Julie?” she said, rushing in.
Julie stood with a grim look on her face, pointing to a small vanity mirror next to the sink. The room thief had left her a warning, written in her own pink lipstick, on the mirror. Pointed and succinct, it said simply, “Let K be.”
29
Julie awoke the next morning after a fitful night’s sleep. Her sense of fear and anxiety had gradually evolved into a feeling of indignant violation. Rising early, she found herself burning with anger.
“Who could have known that we discovered the diary?” she said, pacing the floor of the hotel room. “We had only just found it ourselves.”
Summer was in the bathroom, fixing her hair. “Perhaps he didn’t actually know about the diary,” she replied. “He might have just been trying to find out what you knew and got lucky.”
“I suppose it’s possible. But why the warning? What is it about Kitchener’s death nearly a century after the fact that someone would still be afraid of?”
Summer sprayed on a touch of perfume, then joined Julie in the bedroom. “I’d say one thing is certain. It has to be someone who knows more than we do about either the Manifest or the sinking of the
“Or both,” Julie concurred. She caught a whiff of Summer’s perfume. “That’s a lovely fragrance,” she said.
“Thank you. It was a gift from a friend of mine in British Columbia.”
“The cologne,” Julie suddenly blurted. “I nearly forgot. The intruder who tied me up last night had the scent of men’s cologne. I’m sure it was the same fragrance as worn by that fellow we met at Lambeth Library.”
