He swept the brandy decanter from the table with a violent movement and sent it flying against the starboard wall. It smashed and a shower of glass and Armagnac sprayed my back.

“I never thought they’d be profitable!” he shouted. “They’re too big. There weren’t many ports that could handle them. I was sure they were a passing fad.” He clenched his fists and his face took on an angry, brooding look. “But then I started losing orders and I just couldn’t get them back. And Martin! Goddamn him to hell! I saved him from prison. I gave him his life back. And how did he thank me? By building that damned Lucella Wieser and flaunting her under my nose.”

“Why didn’t you just build your own at that point?” I asked irritably.

He bared his teeth at me. “I couldn’t afford to. The steamship company was overleveraged by then. I’d mortgaged a lot of my other holdings and I couldn’t find anyone to lend me that kind of money.

“Then I found Phillips and his pathetic wife and I saw a way at least to get some orders. But last fall your damned cousin started nosing around. I knew if he got onto the truth we were all in trouble, so I sicced Paige on him.”

“I know that part. Spare me a rerun—these sentimental stories make me gag … What made you blow up the Lucella?”

“That crack of Martin’s—had I deliberately run the Ericsson into the wharf? At first I was wishing I could blow up my whole fleet and collect the insurance. Then I had a better idea. Get rid of the Lucella and close the upper lakes to the big ships at the same time. I can’t keep the Poe Lock shut forever. But I’ve got three of those bastards stopped up at Whitefish Bay. They’ll have to trundle tiddlywinks between Thunder Bay and Duluth for the next twelve months and there’s no place big enough for them to dock for the winter up there.”

He laughed crazily. “I can carry a lot of freight this summer. I should be out of the woods by next spring—I’ll be able to start capitalizing some new freighters next year. And Martin should be wiped out by then.”

“I see.” I felt tired and depressed. I couldn’t think of any way to stop him. I hadn’t left a trail of my investigation. I hadn’t even told anyone about the documents taped in my old copies of Fortune.

As if reading my thoughts, Grafalk added, “Paige told me you had those invoices Boom Boom threatened Clayton with. Sandy went over there early this morning—no kids with bread knives to get in his way. He had to tear the place up a bit, but he found them. Pity you weren’t there. We wondered where you were.”