The Hindenburg Murders by Max Allan Collins Read Free Book Online

Germany.”
    “What sort of information?”
    “Perhaps you can make certain assumptions yourself. But those with skeletons in their closets—racial, political, religious skeletons, to quote you—might do well to steer Mr. Knoecher a wide path.”
    Charteris shifted on the cot. “Well. Thank you for the warning. He certainly seemed pleasant enough—even innocuous.”
    “Yes. That is his… special gift.” Lehmann rapped on the desk, with the knuckles of his right hand. “I hope you will keep in mind that we never had this conversation. Should Mr. Knoecher and those he works for learn of my… indiscretion, in sharing this information with you… I could well be added to his list.”
    Touching his heart with an open hand, Charteris said, “Ernst, I’m grateful to you—though I doubt I have anything to fear, from Mr. Knoecher.”
    “Mr. Charteris, everyone has something to fear from the likes of Mr. Knoecher.”
    A knock at the door seemed to put a period at the end of the captain’s sentence.
    “Yes?” Lehmann called, in a firm, loud voice that reminded Charteris this man had indeed been a captain and a soldier.
    Chief Steward Kubis peeked in. “Captain, I apologize for interrupting, but there is a matter I wonder if you would mind handling—I prefer not to bother Captain Pruss at this stage of our voyage.”
    “Understood. How can I be of help?”
    “One of our passengers insists that he must feed his dog himself.”
    “His dog?”
    Charteris, still seated on the cot, said, “I think you’re about to meet Joseph Spah, more popularly known as Ben Dova.”
    And Spah, who’d been waiting in the hallway, squeezed his compact frame past the chief steward and joined Charteris and Captain Lehmann in the cramped cabin. The little man in the powder-blue suit and matching sweater-vest had a wooden bowl lettered ULLA in one hand and a bag of dog food tucked under his other arm.
    “Captain, forgive my rudeness,” the acrobat said in German, then he noticed Charteris and said, in English, “Ah! My friend the mystery writer! Leslie, perhaps you will help me convince the good captain that only I can feed my dog.”
    “I think you’ll find Captain Lehmann a reasonable sort,” Charteris said, not wanting to get involved.
    Back to German, Spah continued, words tumbling out of him, “This is the Reederei ’s responsibility, Captain. I wanted to ship my dog to New York by steamer, but your people at the ticket office talked me into shipping Ulla on your zeppelin. They said many, many animals had made the trip, birds, dogs, cats, fish, even deer, no problem. They promised I could feed and handle my dog myself—she’s young and skittish and must be frightened back in your dark hold.”
    “I understand your concern, Mr. Spah,” the captain said, “but I’m sure your dog will be well cared for.”
    “You don’t understand, Captain—this dog is royalty! She is Ulla von Hooptel, with pedigree papers!”
    “Everyone’s a ‘von’ in Germany these days,” Charteris said dryly, catching the chief steward rolling his eyes, “even the dogs.”
    Patiently, the captain said, “Mr. Spah, your dog is in our animal freight room—that’s all the way aft at Ring 62. It’s a precarious passage.”
    “Not for an acrobat!”
    “He’s right, Captain,” Charteris said, and explained who Spah was.
    “For months I’ve trained Ulla for my act,” Spah said. “She leaps at me from behind, and I pretend to fall down. She won’t know what to do without me! She’s such a sweet dog, Captain—please!”
    Lehmann chuckled, as if having a problem so petty were a relief after talk of bombs and Nazis.
    “Mr. Kubis, escort Mr. Spah to his dog.”
    Charteris stood. “Is it all right if I tag along, Captain? I’m not an acrobat but I think I can maintain my footing. Always wanted a glimpse at the innards of this beast.”
    Lehmann shrugged, standing, saying, “I see no harm. Mr. Charteris—we’ll spend more time