As the ship pushed against the dock, Warren watched the maneuvers from his vantage point for a bit, then slid back into the vent. He used the crate for a makeshift chair and was content to eavesdrop on the German voices he did not understand. The growing sounds coming from the dock made his hideout noisy, but bearable. However, the steam whistle suddenly going off a few feet away nearly deafened him permanently. It seemed like an eternity of multiple blasts struck him as he covered his ears in pain. Finally, he felt the ship bump into the dock.

Nervous about more pain from the steam whistle, Warren carefully stood on the crate to look out. His vantage point gave him a partial view of the crewmen scrambling around on the main deck as they pulled the lines tight to the pier. His nerves did not get any better when he saw the gang of uniformed men running on to the ship.

After listening to the hubbub going on below him, Warren felt relative safety for the moment. He believed there was more time before they searched inside his vent. Warren bet on the authorities would search all the nooks and crannies inside the ship, including the cargo areas. He suspected, or rather prayed, the search would take quite some time.

Warren took a seat on the box while considering his next options. His first thoughts came to Amber. Early in his panic, he briefly considered going back to her cabin. Still, he still could not trust her. She wanted something from him, but that didn’t mean she wouldn’t betray him, especially to save her own neck. However, Amber was his alibi, so he needed to contact her again.

If he could get away from the ship, he would find her. Someone clearly set him up as the fall guy for two murders. She was also a witness to his innocence. That meant the murderer might decide to kill her to keep her quiet.

Great, I can’t trust her, but I can’t let her go.

Warren thought the authorities would inspect the obvious places without delay. No doubt, they would interview everyone as well. He couldn’t just walk off unless he got clothing from the crew quarters. He quickly decided the idea was too risky.

Taking a deep breath, Warren thought back to one of the few old movies he remembered. One cliché was the big reveal. It came when the police took the suspects to a location to interview them, and the murderer would panic. If the police followed the same pattern, they would gather the passengers into the lounge to interview them. It might work, but he needed to find a way past the guards at the gangplank to the dock. Or he might have to wait until dark and slide down the rope to the pier. All he could do was to wait for an opportunity. He stood and carefully surveyed the crowd on the passenger deck.

Below Warren’s position, Amber waited while she listened to the passengers. Most of the conversations focused on their guesses and rumors, adding to their concerns. Cut off from getting to shore and uncertain of what would happen next, each traveler suspected the others as they looked around. The countess continued to stew at her treatment, repeatedly haranguing her poor servant standing next to her. The newly married couple looked on tolerantly, occasionally smiling at each other while they sat on their bags of luggage. One man who stood apart from the others caught Amber’s eye. She heard the little man was a professor of some sort, who had the stateroom next to Warren’s. He keenly observed O’Malley’s men, who stood by the gangplank.

“It’s terrible what happened to Tony,” a woman’s voice came from behind her.

Amber turned to see Krupin’s two shipboard companions standing behind her. Neither appeared upset. In fact, both eyed her like vultures over carrion.

“Yes, it is terrible,” she agreed, wondering at the reason for the sudden conversation.

The woman stepped closer. “Sugar, I know we’ve not been introduced. My name’s Mary, and this is my—uh…friend, Harry. I reckon we should have a long chat, you and us.”

“I’m not sure what you mean,” Amber replied deliberately.

 “Oh, but I’m sure you do, Miss Fane.” She said as she placed her hand on the woman’s shoulder.

Mary smiled at her, revealing crooked teeth. Her eyes sparkled.

“Tony may have not told me much about his business, but I got to meet a lot of people at his parties. You know, people of influence like the district attorney.”

She emphasized the words with her southern drawl.

“I’m sure that has nothing to do with me,” Amber told her as she carefully removed the woman’s hand from her shoulder as if she touched something dead.

“Come now, you’re too modest, sugar. A little bird told us you have an interest in Mr. Baker,” Mary said with a grunted laugh as she came face to face with Amber.

“As I understand it, you had a concern about the man and his blackmail racket.” Her smile turned bitter.

“I reckon that means we will talk soon. I mean, since rumor has it you were asking about Baker so much during our trip, some people might be interested in why you are so interested in a murderer. You know how things can spread unless you put a stop to them.”

“Since Y’all society types like being so professional, here’s my card.” Mary gave the slip of paper to Amber before stepping closer to the woman.

She leaned forward to whisper in Amber’s ear.

“Don’t make us wait, dear. You have an attractive face, and my hatchet man has a bad temper.”

Amber glanced at Harry; his cold eyes drilled into her. While she tried to act like she wasn’t frightened, the woman felt an icy chill.

Before Amber could respond, First Officer Holtz spoke up after he walked over from a huddle with the captain and the harbor police. He directed the passengers back to the lounge. When the Countess complained, one of O’Malley’s men interjected forcefully.

“Madam, don’t get yourself in such a lather,” he told her with a thick Boston accent. “This is a murder investigation, not a social call. The sooner we complete this investigation, the sooner we all get off this boat. The crew will have your bags and trunks ready when you leave.”

Helene glared daggers at him while slowly following the small crowd to the back of the ship. Amber hurried next to the woman’s servant, happy to retreat from the intimidation. He glanced back at the woman and her thug while she tried to make sense of the threat.

From his loft, Warren barely heard the exchange, but a grin crossed his lips when he watched the passengers heading to the stern.

Yeah, I could write your damn script!

However, his gaze shifted as recognized the sounds of someone climbing the ladder near his location. Warren stayed down in the vent while he listened to the conversation of two of the harbor police who climbed on the top of the bridge. He ducked down as far as he could, half expecting someone to carry up a ladder to look inside the opening above him. As he held his breath, the noise of the searchers slowly faded for a moment, and he let out his breath.

Just as he was about to move from the uncomfortable squatting position, he heard footsteps coming closer to his hiding place. After several agonizing moments, the search party finally left.

“Let O’Malley know we’ve checked the funnel deck!”

The cop’s thick accent made Warren refuse to move for a while longer before he finally peeked out.

While Warren really wanted to hold out until dark before leaving his hiding spot, the close encounter with the police unnerved him. He was on borrowed time. He figured the authorities would start combing through every place again, along with the crew. That meant more people running around. Also, he knew someone would eventually decide to look inside the ventilation shafts.

He overheard O’Malley call out to his men to work their way into the ship again. The harbor policeman also ordered a crewman near the gangplank to join with his officers in the search. It reinforced Warren’s growing belief that he needed to hurry. Considering his options, Warren found the only way off the ship for him was going over the side and swimming to the dock.

Yeah, that’s the ticket. Get in the water in the middle of the day and see who notices me first.

Internal sarcasm aside, Warren had no better ideas. He decided to risk it. Slowly, he crawled out of the vent.

On the dock below, he watched as the workmen milled around in their work. They paid no attention to one person at the top of the ship. Twisting around, he slipped, nearly falling face first on the deck. Warren landed hard as he rolled across the steel deck. Lying motionless for a moment, he wondered if someone on the bridge below might have heard him. Feeling very exposed, he let out a slow breath, realizing nobody was paying attention to his antics.

Cautiously, Warren walked over to the edge. Finding no one below him, he quietly slid down the ladder. When he came close to the hatch leading to the bridge room, he listened before glancing inside. The room was empty.

A short blast of a steam whistle came from a nearby tug, nearly causing Warren to jump out of his skin. Hurriedly, he went to the port side which faced the harbor. Taking a deep breath, he forced himself to move to the next ladder. He briefly surveyed the empty passenger deck below. His heart threatened to burst as Warren hurried down the steps.

Warren went to the chain railing at the edge of the ship. Trying to appear casual as any wanted murderer could, he stepped forward until he reached the first lifeboat. Discovering a coiled rope hooked to one of the mechanical arms holding the wooden craft, he picked it up. Scanning the deck again, he dropped the end of the rope into the water. Warren cast about a last look on the deck before he silently went over the side of the ship. Quickly, he slid into the water below.

Trying to swim in the filthy water, Warren reconsidered his actions. Moving through all manner of garbage and waste that made him want to puke, he found himself covered in filth. He also decided half the bay water carried a thick layer of oil and fuel. While he made his way down the hull of the ship, he came upon a broken wooden box floating along. He awkwardly held over his head and felt himself suitably camouflaged, like the rest of the trash.

Warren paddled his way toward the stern of the ship. The filth nearly overwhelmed him, while his increasingly heavy wool clothing made him struggle. When he reached the large opening between the vessels, the wanted man doubted the wisdom of leaving the ship. The distance between the ship and the dock, which held police and workers, meant he had to swim underwater in the muck to get to the edge of the dock. It took him several minutes to steel himself for the disgusting swim coming before he pushed away from the ship.