“We’re all glad you found that bomb in time. No fingerprints, of course, but plenty of useful evidence. I’d hate to see it destroyed.” Agent Sheffield settled into his chair, rummaged in his breast pocket, and pulled out a cigarette case.
Jim shot Mary a comical look, and she had to look away so she wouldn’t laugh. All business, this agent—more concerned with the evidence in the bomb than a whole shipload of men.
Mary smoothed the skirt of her pale gray summer suit. “Agent—”
“I’m impressed with your keen observations, Ensign.” He lit his cigarette.
“Only because of Miss Stirling.” Jim gestured her way. “If she hadn’t raised my suspicions, I wouldn’t have investigated.”
Agent Sheffield turned to her as if seeing her for the first time. “Tell me again what you have.”
“Yes, sir.” Mary laid the notebook on the desk and repeated everything she’d told him two weeks earlier. “As you see, I’ve recorded each person’s possible motive, means, and opportunity, plus my notes.”
“The gossip.”
Her mouth tightened. “I transcribe conversations.”
“Entire conversations.” Jim leaned his elbows on his knees. “She can take shorthand over two hundred words per minute.”
Agent Sheffield leaned back in his chair and blew out a column of smoke. “All right. Tell me your theories, Miss Marple. Although you’re too young to playthatamateur sleuth.”
She’d pretend she hadn’t recognized his patronizing tone. “The obvious suspects are any Nazi sympathizers, perhaps members of the German-American Bund.”
“I agree. Any names come to mind?”
“No, sir. A lot of people suspect Heinrich Bauer, but he’s never said or done anything wrong that I know of. He just happens to be German.”
“A suspiciously silent German. Does he talk to you?”
“No, sir. But it all seems rather obvious, don’t you think? The swastika and the ‘Sieg Heil’? If he wanted to be subtle, he failed.”
Agent Sheffield tipped his head in an indulgent manner. “One thing I’ve learned in this business is criminals have immense egos. They want to draw attention to their cause or to their own brilliance. And the folks in the German-American Bund are thugs. They don’t know anything about subtlety.”
Mary sat forward. “But do they want to be seen as saboteurs? They want to rally Americans to their cause, not drive them away. It seems more likely that the saboteur is an interventionist who wants to make it look as if the Nazis are wreaking havoc. That would fan a public uproar, wouldn’t—”
“The other thing I’ve learned in this position.” Agent Sheffield rocked forward, and the front legs of his chair thumped on the floor. “The obvious scenario is usually true. The obvious suspects are usually guilty. Framing is very rare outside of Hollywood.”
Mary tucked away her theory that an isolationist could be framing an interventionist, making it look as ifhewere framing a German. Agent Sheffield would burst into laughter at her convoluted logic.
Jim turned his cap in his hands. “Mary’s idea makes sense to me. I think the saboteur wanted the bomb to be found. Why would he hide it in a busy place like a handling room?”
“If it weren’t such a crudely designed bomb, you wouldn’t have discovered it.”
Jim gave Mary an apologetic look.
“Listen.” Agent Sheffield thumbed through Mary’s notebook. “I can’t tell a bright young girl not to think, but you’d be better off not trying to figure this out. Let us do our work. Now that we have facts and evidence, the investigation will go into full swing. And your notes might prove useful. I appreciate the work you’ve done.”
“Thank you, sir.” Somehow his condescension allowed Mary to accept his praise. “And I’ll continue—”
“No!” He fixed a strong gaze on her. “Leave the investigation to the professionals.”
“I can still take notes. They might—”
“No. Absolutely not. It’s only a matter of time until people figure out you’re spying on them. This saboteur is dangerous. He was willing to kill two hundred men for his cause. He won’t hesitate to hurt you. Leave it to us.”
Mary rose from her chair, her legs wobbly. “Thank you for your concern, sir.”
“And thanks for listening.” Jim stood and shook the man’s hand.
