Page 8 of The Amsterdam Enigma (The Continental Capers of Melody Chesterton #3)
H earing William Somerset’s name had so thoroughly unsettled Melody that Alessandro could steer the conversation away from Vermeer without her even attempting to bring it back.
Her mind was suddenly so filled with William that she couldn’t say what Alessandro and Rat were discussing.
There was no doubt that she had developed genuine romantic feelings for Captain Somerset in Morocco.
Although their relationship began somewhat unevenly, with her mainly flattered by his overt admiration, over the last few weeks in Morocco, Melody had grown to trust and admire William and thought that he was the kind of man with whom she would happily share her life.
He neither condescended to her nor was he overly protective.
He saw her for who she was, not as an idealised female on a pedestal, but as an independent, strong-willed young woman.
Yet, just as Melody allowed herself to imagine a future with him, he walked out of her life.
His last words to her were, “Be well, Melody. Love well.” She couldn’t pretend not to understand his meaning; William had observed her reaction to Alessandro upon his release from jail, and it revealed everything, as far as he was concerned.
Fatima had rejoined them for dinner, and the group discussed such mundane topics that Melody could occasionally contribute a comment, all the while remaining preoccupied with her thoughts about the handsome captain.
Despite her intention to question Rat further during their walk home, she once again found herself lost in her thoughts.
If he thought anything of her absent-minded replies to his casual remarks, Rat was wise enough not to mention it.
It was only as he walked her to the door of her hotel room that Melody thought to ask, “What do we do now?”
“Well, let us see if Alessandro has any luck with the paper the deceased man was found clutching. If he does, then hopefully that will provide us with what we need to move forward.” Melody couldn’t see any need to argue with that line of reasoning.
Just as she was fishing for her room key in her reticule, Rat said, as casually as possible, “I am taking Miss Edwards to tea at Café Riche tomorrow afternoon, just in case you are looking for me.”
Melody paused, her key halfway to the lock, and turned in astonishment. Her initial thought was one of surprise that her shy brother had found the courage to pursue a young woman. Melody’s second thought was less charitable as she recalled her immediate aversion to Jemima Edwards.
In that brief moment, Melody envisioned how her future might unfold: Rat and Jemima would fall in love, and Melody would, gradually at first, but surely, be pushed out of his life.
They would marry, and ultimately, she would be relegated to seeing her brother only at Christmas dinner and other significant family events.
It never occurred to Melody that the possibility of such a grim future was something she could influence by not acting on her initial reactions to Jemima.
Melody turned to face her brother. “You do not even know this woman, Rat. You bumped into her in the lobby then carried her books up. That is all. She could be anyone.”
Very stiffly, her brother replied, “And yet you allowed Captain Somerset to call on you after a brief introduction at a party. How is that any different?”
How was it different? Melody said the first thing that came to mind, even though it sounded absurd to her own ears. “William was, is, a captain in His Majesty’s armed forces. If that doesn’t suffice as a recommendation of character, I do not know what does.”
Rat made a sound that could have been a snort of derision, or perhaps a sigh of exasperation. Rather than addressing Melody’s clearly absurd rejoinder, he said, “Good night, Melody. I will see you at breakfast tomorrow.”
Melody slept poorly, tossing and turning and never falling into a deep sleep.
As she lay there in the middle of the night, she couldn’t say what ran through her head more: thoughts of Captain Somerset or all the scenarios in which the cunning Jemima Edwards stole Rat away from her forever.
Whenever she managed to put these two thoughts out of her mind for even a moment, memories of Fatima and Alessandro’s apparent domesticity would pop in to torment her.
Finally, as it became clear she wouldn’t be getting any more sleep, Melody got out of bed and donned her wrap.
One advantage of the brutally warm weather Amsterdam was experiencing was that even in the middle of the night, the room remained warm.
Melody didn’t want to venture into the suite’s living room and risk waking Mary.
Instead, she curled up in the chair by the fireplace in her bedroom.
While Melody hadn’t expected to sleep in the chair, she did doze off.
It was only the discomfort of her position that finally roused her.
Glancing at the clock on the mantelpiece, she noted it was seven o’clock.
There was little point in climbing back into bed.
Instead, she might as well bathe, get dressed, and prepare for the day ahead.
Melody had been one of the first guests in the hotel dining room that morning. After two strong cups of coffee, she was finally ready to function. By the time Rat joined her, Melody had ample time to reflect on why her sleep had been so disturbed.
As soon as her brother sat down, Melody said, “I am sorry, Rat. I was utterly unreasonable in my reaction to your outing with Miss Edwards. It was unfair and ungenerous.”
“Thank you. That means a lot. I realise you were out of sorts after hearing that I have taken over Captain Somerset’s mission.”
Although that wasn’t the only reason for her irritability, Melody was content to accept Rat’s words. They finished the rest of their breakfast companionably enough.
As Melody was finishing the last of her second cup of coffee, she spotted what appeared to be Alessandro in the hotel lobby. From her vantage point, she noticed the desk clerk gesturing towards the dining room, presumably indicating where Rat could be found.
“I believe Alessandro is here,” Melody informed Rat.
He turned his head just in time to see Alessandro enter the room. Rat waved, and Alessandro acknowledged him before making his way over to where they sat.
With no preamble of a welcome, he said in a low voice, “Can we speak in your room?”
While the question had been directed towards Rat, Melody set down the coffee cup she was holding and replied, “Let us go to my suite, it is larger and more comfortable than Matthew’s room.”
For a moment, Melody thought Alessandro might be about to ask to speak with Rat in private, but he seemed to reconsider and nodded his agreement.
Five minutes later, they were all seated in her spacious and luxurious suite. Mary had been in the living room when they entered, but she quickly and quietly slipped away into her bedroom.
Alessandro pulled out a piece of paper from his pocket. “I wasn’t able to get the original, but my man was able to get a copy of the scrap Vermeer was holding,” Alessandro explained as he handed the paper to Rat, who was sitting next to him.
Rat stared at the numbers and words that were written. Reading aloud, he said, “Nootmuskaat. 62 zakken. ZKL-3. Huis Jansen. I have no idea what any of this means.”
“Well, I know what nootmuskaat is,” Melody informed them. “It’s nutmeg. I’ve seen it on the menu when I order that delicious rice pudding the hotel serves. I asked the waiter after I ordered it for the second time, and he pointed to what was clearly nutmeg sprinkled on top.”
“What does zakken mean?” Rat asked, with little expectation that anyone would know.
“Sacks,” Alessandro surprised him by answering.
He reflected on what he’d said. “So, sixty-two sacks of nutmeg. I think this is part of a shipping manifest and ZKL-3 are part of the crate markings that help identify the ownership or destination of the shipment at a glance. This helps route the cargo quickly through the docks.”
“How is that helpful?” Melody wondered. She knew Amsterdam was a major shipping hub, which was part of the reason the British and Germans were so intent on winning over Dutch support.
“Is it possible there is nothing interesting about the paper Vermeer was holding and that it just happened to be in his hand when he fell into the canal?”
“That is the other thing my man found out; Vermee was already dead by the time he was thrown in the canal. He was strangled.”
“So, there is no doubt he was killed.” Rat paused after saying this and thought again about what was written on the paper. “What we do know is that Vermeer had uncovered a new cypher being used by the Germans. What if the shipping manifests are the means of communication?”
“What do you know, if anything, about this Vermeer?” Melody asked.
Rat shrugged and admitted, “Very little. As I said, he was Somerset’s contact, and even then, I’m unsure how much was known. My understanding is that his willingness to turn against Germany was quite a recent thing.”
They all sat in silence for several minutes. If Rat was correct, this was a crucial piece of the puzzle. However, with Vermeer dead, it was unclear where their investigation should proceed next.
“If this is a cypher, then do you think you can unravel it with only this scrap?” Melody asked Rat.
He considered the question. “Possibly. Though there is no doubt it would be easier if I had a more representative sample.”
“Then, I think that we need to try to uncover where Vermeer might have obtained this and then attempt to look at other manifests.” As Alessandro said this, another thought struck him. “I wonder if this is a real manifest or if ones containing cyphers are somehow swapped in at some point.”
“There would certainly be less risk of exposure if the manifests were real. Though it would also involve a degree of additional complexity; presumably shipments would have to be coordinated in order to match the manifests.” As Rat said this, he stood and started pacing.
“I believe we have an interesting working hypothesis, which at least gives us somewhere to start,” Rat mused. “However, it could also be entirely wrong.”
Melody laughed wryly. “I learned a lot from watching and listening to Wolfie and Tabby Cat over the years. I know that they always work from the position that one needs to start with a supposition and pivot and adjust as new information became available. No theory is perfectly correct from the beginning. What is important is that one does not become too wedded to an initial idea.”
“Who are Wolfie and Tabby Cat?” Alessandro asked. Immediately, Melody regretted using the nicknames she had given her guardians when she was a small child. It felt like she had unwittingly shared a very personal detail with Alessandro.
When Melody didn’t answer immediately, Rat stepped in.
“Melody is referring to the Earl and Countess of Pembroke.” He offered no further explanation, and Alessandro realised he was unlikely to receive more anytime soon.
However, Rat added, “I believe that Melody is absolutely correct. Let us assume that our hypothesis is correct until we have additional information that proves otherwise.”
Alessandro agreed, though it didn’t escape Melody’s notice that the conte didn’t do so until Rat had essentially repeated what she had just said. She was tempted to make a sarcastic remark about this, but decided to bite her tongue and be grateful that her idea had been accepted.