"Murder," said Norman Gale, "doesn''t concern the victim and the guilty only. It affects the innocent too. You and I are innocent, but the shadow of murder has touched us. We don''t know how that shadow is going to affect our lives." -- Agatha Christie, Death in the Clouds
5:00 P.M.
Leo scowled at the line. Out of morbid curiosity he''d sat down to reread the play, and somehow it was worse than he remembered. Who on God''s green earth called their wife ''beloved angel'' — spelt ''beloved angle'', because Philpott clearly hadn''t paid attention in English class — in this day and age?
Once more he considered substituting one of his own plays for this one. True, he''d never actually published the scripts he wrote or tried to have them performed. The only people he''d shown them to were a few of his co-stars, who hadn''t been exactly enthusiastic in their praise. But that didn''t matter. He knew he was no Shakespeare, but he also knew he was a better playwright than Philpott.
He had one play that would do very well if he changed the location of the murder from a train to a boat. The theatre company in Australia had probably never read the play, and if they noticed something different he could always say it was a revised version...
Leo had come up to the deck after a quick bath because he found the interior of the ship unpleasantly warm. Several other passengers wandered past without paying any attention to him. He tuned out their presence so he could concentrate on the script. Gradually it dawned on him that someone was leaning over the rails just in front of him.
He looked up, expecting to see Roberts. He and Roberts had played poker against two other men the night before, and Roberts was convinced one of their opponents had cheated. Leo had no opinion on the subject because it wasn''t his money he''d lost — it was some of the money Philpott had given him — but he didn''t want Roberts to cause a scene.
It wasn''t Roberts. It was an East Asian man, probably one of the Hong Kong businessmen on-board, and he was pointing a camera out at the ocean. Leo watched in bemusement as the man struggled to keep his balance and hold the camera steady at the same time.
He snapped several photos, nodded in satisfaction, and turned away. He saw Leo staring at him and pointed back at the sea.
"A whale," he said in perfect English with only the slightest hint of a foreign accent. "Looks like a southern right whale."
Leo wasn''t particularly interested in animals of any sort, sea or land, but a whale was unusual enough to make him go over to see what was happening.
At first he saw only what looked like a rock barely visible beneath the water. Then it sank out of sight. It reappeared further away a minute later. Again it vanished. This time its tail rose out of the water as it dived. Leo watched with wide eyes. That thing was huge. If it decided to attack the boat...
The other man must have guessed his thoughts — which wasn''t exactly flattering to Leo''s opinion of his skills as an actor — because he laughed softly. "Don''t worry. I have never heard of a ship this size being attacked by a whale."
A rustle of fabric behind him alerted Leo to the arrival of a third person. Miss Patton came up beside him and looked out to see what was so interesting. She was just in time to see the whale''s tail rise out of the water a considerable distance away. She drew her breath in sharply. When Leo looked over he was mildly pleased to see by the look on her face that she was thinking along the same lines as he had.
"This gentleman assures me we are in no danger from it," he said to reassure her.
Miss Patton didn''t look as if she was comforted. Come to think of it, she looked far more shaken than could be put down to seeing a whale. Her face was drained of all colour. Were those tear-marks under her eyes?
The memory of the scene at dinnertime came back to Leo. Ah. No wonder she was upset. No doubt that old harridan had given her an earful for that.
Aside from a few waves the sea was still. The whale had apparently decided it had been gawked at and photographed enough. The other man set his camera down on a chair and took a notebook out of his pocket. He scribbled something in it.
"That''s the fifth variety of whale I''ve seen since I left Vladivostok," he said cheerfully.
"Is whale-watching your hobby?" Miss Patton asked, seeming to notice him for the first time. Her voice was oddly flat.
Leo couldn''t help feeling that she spoke mainly to distract herself from her own thoughts. A strange and most unexpected wave of sympathy swept over him. He felt an absurd wish to take her far away from everyone associated with her old life. He shoved that idea away at once.
The other man was saying, "Not exactly. It is my brother''s hobby, so when he heard I was going to Australia he gave me a book on whales and made me promise to record all the species I saw." He gave Miss Patton a questioning look. "Are you alright, Miss..."
"Patton," she said, rubbing her eyes. "I''ll never be fond of travelling by sea. Always make me feel queasy."
Leo remembered how un-queasy she had seemed both times he''d seen her before.
The other man nodded, but he didn''t look convinced. "Pleased to meet you, Miss Patton and Mr..."
"Leopold Colman," Leo said, offering his hand.
"Seo Yo-han," the man said, shaking his hand. "Or, as your name order would have it, Yo-han Seo."
"Why does China put names round the wrong way?" Miss Patton asked.
Seo smiled wryly. "I am Korean. And I could just as easily ask why English names are the wrong way round."
"Hm. I never thought of that."
A shadow suddenly passed over Miss Patton''s face and she fell silent. Leo looked at her in bemusement, trying to figure out if she had taken offense at having her question turned back on her. No, she seemed to have completely forgotten about the men''s presence. She stared down at the sea with a complicated expression. For a minute Leo thought she was about to jump. He half-started forward to stop her. He looked over his shoulder and saw Seo looked as alarmed and baffled as he felt.
"Miss Patton? Is something wrong?"
When she spoke it was on a completely different subject. "Strange name for a ship."
Leo and Mr. Seo looked at her, then at each other. They both knew they were thinking along the same lines: "Is she quite in her right mind?"
"I don''t quite understand," Leo began.
"Kaiserin Elisabeth[1]. Empress Elisabeth. Or Erzsébet királyné, as Király insists on calling her." Miss Patton giggled suddenly. "Király, királyné[2]... Anyway. Strange to name a ship after her. Almost tempting fate. She was stabbed on a ship, wasn''t she?"
"On her way to board a ship, yes," Mr. Seo said. "You speak Hungarian, Miss Patton?"
She shrugged listlessly. "A little. Couldn''t help picking it up from Király and—" She stopped suddenly, as if she thought she was about to say something she shouldn''t. Leo became increasingly convinced that she was drunk. "Wait, do you speak it? You said your name was Johann; are you half-German or something?"
Mr. Seo shook his head with a faint smile. Leo looked at him curiously, but couldn''t see anything to suggest he was mixed.
"No, I am fully Korean and Yo-han — only one N, and spelt with a Y, not a J — is a perfectly good Korean name. I have travelled widely and learnt many languages. Once I learnt one European language the others were easy to grasp, though I found Hungarian much more difficult[3]. The only language I can''t learn at all is Adyghe[4]. No language should have that many consonants!"
"What''s Adyghe?" Miss Patton asked, finally straightening up and looking as if she was genuinely interested in the conversation.
"It''s similar to Russian[5]," Leo said. "I''m impressed, Mr. Seo. I''ve never been able to learn any languages. Sometimes I can barely speak English!"
Mr. Seo gave him a sidelong glance. Leo got the distinct impression his English skills — or perhaps his accent — had just been insulted.
Miss Patton was saying, "Are you a translator or a professor of languages?"
"Neither. I''m a detective." Leo noticed Miss Patton start. Mr. Seo apparently didn''t notice, and continued without pausing. "Being able to question suspects in their own language is an advantage." He grinned. "Being able to understand what they say to each other when they think I''m an ignorant foreigner is an extra advantage."
Miss Patton said slowly, "Are you... investigating a case now?"This text was taken from Royal Road. Help the author by reading the original version there.
"Not yet. But I expect to find one when I arrive in Australia. That''s why I''m going there; the head of a political party has asked me to track down a politician''s mistress who has absconded with government funds."
"Good heavens!" Leo and Miss Patton exclaimed in unison.
"Do you deal with murders?" Miss Patton asked in an oddly stilted voice.
Leo looked at her thoughtfully, trying to determine if it was a casual question or if it had deeper meaning.
"Sometimes. My most recent failure was an unsolved murder, though I can''t say I tried hard to catch the killer. From everything I heard about him, Ioseb Jughashvili deserved to die and his assassin did the world a service[6]."
Miss Patton had gone very pale. "Do you think some people deserve to die?"
"Murderers and terrorists like Jughashvili? Absolutely. But those sorts of people are mercifully few and far between. I dare say I was wrong to only do the bare minimum of investigating his death. He was killed by a hired assassin who I know will kill again, and his next victim will almost certainly not deserve death."
Mr. Seo fell silent for a moment, staring out at the sea.
"But," he said with an attempt at a cheerful air, "murders aren''t nearly as common as detective novels make out. Most of my cases are jewel robberies, frauds, political scandals, and blackmail."
<hr>
6:40 P.M.
That "Do Not Disturb" sign had been on the door for hours. Mrs. Schmidt had no objection to letting passengers sleep in the afternoon if they wanted to, but it was now past dinnertime and she still hadn''t been able to hoover Cabin 172. She couldn''t afford to wait any longer. She had a schedule to keep, and she had already fallen behind!
She rapped the door sharply. No answer. She tried the handle. The door opened easily.
,,Was für ein Idiot!" Mrs. Schmidt grumbled. The fool had left that sign on the door when she wasn''t even in the room!
She turned to lift her hoover over the threshold. When she stepped into the room she almost dropped the hoover in shock. The passenger was still there after all, fast asleep and wearing ear-muffs.
Mrs. Schmidt tried to back out without waking her. A splash of red on the wall caught her attention. She stopped and frowned at it. That shouldn''t be there. Only the first class cabins used red in their decorating. It clashed with the rest of the blue colour scheme. What was it, anyway?
She set down the hoover and stepped forward to investigate. Her face changed. She recoiled with a yell.
<hr>
6:45 P.M.
"Time of death was approximately three hours ago," Dr. Latimer said.
First Officer Adler looked at the watch on the floor. In accordance with protocol no one had touched it until the police arrived to investigate — which wouldn''t happen until they reached Australia, because the ship''s security officers weren''t equipped to deal with murders. The worst they''d ever dealt with had been a case of assault and battery following a drunken brawl. "Do you think the time on the watch will be the time of death?"
"Possibly." Dr. Latimer closed his bag and stepped away from the body. "I believe there''s a detective on board. We''d better call him in."
"I''ve already sent someone to find him."
A steward arrived a minute later with the detective in tow. Mr. Seo looked at the body and drew his breath in sharply. He let it out again with a sort of low whistle.
"Well, doctor? What conclusions have you drawn?" he asked.
Dr. Latimer pointed to the bullet wound. "She was shot at fairly close range with a gun. I don''t know enough about guns to say what sort, but judging by the damage it was a powerful one. The bullet travelled right through her head and out the other side, taking a considerable chunk out of her skull. Death was instantaneous. Her body is still warm and only beginning to go stiff, so she was killed no more than three hours ago."
Seo nodded. "What was the angle of the bullet?"
"Odd. That''s the only way I can describe it. The killer must have crouched down and fired upwards."
Seo looked around the room. He looked at something on the wall opposite the body. His expression hardened. "I don''t believe cabins usually have holes cut in their walls."
"Of course not," Adler said, insulted at the very suggestion. "Why, that would encourage voyeurs and—"
He broke off in astonishment as Seo moved a suitcase out of the way. A small square had clearly been sawn out of the wall. Seo peered through it. "Right through the wall. Who has the cabin next door?"
Dr. Latimer frowned. "It was originally my cabin. The victim made a tremendous fuss and got her niece moved into it on the first day."
"Her niece, who earlier today shouted that she wished her aunt was dead." Seo frowned at the hole. He ran his finger along the bottom edge. "This was sawn from the other side. Recently, too. No earlier than this morning." He turned his head abruptly. "Only one thing doesn''t fit here. The watch. How did it end up on the floor?"
Neither Latimer nor Adler could answer that.
"She knocked it down in her death throes?" the steward suggested.
"Except the doctor has just declared she died instantly. Do you think she could have thrown her arms up, knocked the watch off the bedside table, then set her arms down on the bed again in a split second?"
"No, that''s impossible. The murderer must have knocked it down," Latimer said.
"The murderer wasn''t in this room at all. They fired the gun through that hole. See the scorch mark on the wood?"
It was all very well for him to think about minor details like watches and scorch marks. Adler had a much more important problem. "Should I arrest the niece?"
Seo didn''t answer for a while. He continued to stare at the watch as if it held all the secrets of the universe. "Yes, I suppose you have no choice. The circumstantial evidence against her is certainly... very strong."
He didn''t sound like he was happy about it. Neither was Adler. He''d never had to arrest a woman before. It didn''t seem right.
<hr>
7:10 P.M.
After dinner a newly-engaged couple convinced their friends and any other willing passengers to join them in an impromptu ball. The band launched into a collection of waltzes by Strauss, starting with "The Blue Danube". Phil turned down Mr. Colman''s first offer to dance. She didn''t feel like dancing. She felt like she was living in a nightmare.
How could everyone keep acting so calmly after a murder? Surely someone else had found the body by now. Had the whole thing been Phil''s imagination? Was Rachael going to walk in at any moment?
The meeting with the detective and his talk of murder seemed even more surreal. Phil found herself wondering if she''d gone mad or if everyone else had.
Mr. Colman had been dancing with another young woman. When the Emperor Waltz finished he left his partner and again asked Phil to dance. This time she accepted. She had never danced with anyone before, thanks to Rachael''s strictures. But what did that matter? The world was upside down and back to front, Rachael might be dead or Phil might be going mad, but Mr. Colman was very nice and she liked him better than she''d liked any man before.
The band began playing "Roses From the South". Phil followed Mr. Colman out onto the ballroom floor.
"I don''t have any ballgowns," she said as an excuse for her embarrassingly plain, old-fashioned dress.
Mr. Colman laughed. "So what? I bought this suit in a charity shop back in 1908[7] and it was out of fashion then."
"I would have expected actors to be more fashionable," Phil said without thinking, then realised that sounded insulting when she had meant it as a simple observation. "I mean, the ones my sister works with. She works in a theatre''s costume department. She''s constantly complaining about actresses demanding she supplies them with fashionable clothes for every day wear."
To her relief Mr. Colman didn''t seem to be offended. "What theatre does your sister work for?"
"Belfast Grand Opera House."
"Then she works with much more popular, better-paid actors than me. The only time I''ve been in an opera house is as a paying customer to see a show." A fleeting shadow crossed his face. "I would like to play Shakespeare in a famous theatre some day, but for now I''m stuck in an amateur theatrical company playing in nonsense like that play I told you about."
Phil felt sudden sympathy for him. "And I would like to travel the world and become famous for something — photography or writing travelogues, I think. But instead..."
She trailed off abruptly as she realised she was no longer tied to her aunt''s wishes. She paled. Luckily Mr. Colman assumed she had been about to say something completely different.
"Yes, people would talk an awful lot about a young woman doing that," he said.
"What don''t people talk about?" Phil muttered rhetorically. "I dare say all these people would have a lot to say if they knew you were an actor."
Mr. Colman nodded with a grimace. "Yes, we do have a bad reputation. Not that some of us don''t deserve it, of course." He looked at her in mild surprise. "I would have expected a young lady like you — especially, not to put too fine a point on it, with an aunt like yours — to be more discriminating in who she associates with. That is to say, most young ladies will have nothing to do with me as soon as they learn I''m an actor. Is it because of your sister...?"
Phil thought about this. "Partly. And partly to annoy my aunt." She refused to think about how nothing could annoy Rachael any more. "And partly because if I didn''t talk to you I''d have no one to talk to except Király, and we have nothing in common. He doesn''t like reading and is the only person I''ve ever met who actually enjoys maths." She paused, considering how to phrase her next words without giving the impression she meant more than she really did. "And mainly because I like talking to you. You''re the closest I''ve ever had to a friend." To make absolutely sure there could be no misunderstandings she added, "And I only mean a friend. Nothing... else."
Mr. Colman nodded without seeming to be remotely offended or disappointed. "I think of you as a friend and nothing more too, Miss Patton. In fact, you''re probably the best friend I have. I don''t dare be anything more than polite to the actresses in the company in case they get the wrong idea, and the other actors are as talentless and boring a lot as ever disgraced a stage."
"Why don''t you join another company?" she asked.
The music drew to a close. As they left the dance floor Mr. Colman said, "I wish I could, but I want to be part of a really prestigious company and can''t afford to get into any of the acting schools. Now that films are popular I''m considering trying those instead, though I really can''t imagine acting without speaking[8]."
Plenty of people were milling about the room. Out of the corner of her eye Phil saw two figures approaching. She thought nothing of it until they came right up to her. Mr. Colman had been saying something about film studios. He broke off in surprise.
Phil stared at the two men. Their uniforms showed they were part of the ship''s crew. And their grim expressions told why they were here.
"Miss Patton?" one of them asked. When she nodded he said, "Come with us, please."
She felt like a spectator watching from a distance as she got up, murmured some excuse to a baffled Mr. Colman, and followed them out of the room. They led her through the hallways until they approached her aunt''s cabin. The door was open and people were clustered around it.
One of the men left her and the other man just beyond the crowd. He shoved his way through into the room. Phil''s perception of noise had changed somehow. She knew the crowd were talking among themselves, but their voices were an indistinct buzz. However she distinctly heard someone say in the cabin indignantly, "You brought her here?"
Another voice, a vaguely familiar one, said, "Do you mean to say you haven''t told her anything?"
"I''ve never had a situation like this before. I couldn''t just tell a young lady I''m arresting her! It wouldn''t be polite!"
Someone made a disgruntled sound. "Get these people out of here and I''ll tell her myself."
Phil still felt strangely disconnected from events. She might as well have been reading about them in a book. Dimly she thought that she should pretend to be shocked when they told her Rachael was dead. She should insist she had an alibi and demand to know why they were arresting her. They knew nothing about the man in Lough Erne. She hadn''t killed Rachael. No one could connect her to Rachael''s death.
Two people emerged from the cabin, followed by a third. The first two shooed the crowd away. Phil hardly noticed them. All her attention was focused on the detective.
Mr. Seo looked suitably troubled as he approached her. "I''m very sorry to have to tell you this, Miss Patton. Your aunt is dead. And..." He broke off, hesitated, then tried again. "I''m sorry, but she was murdered. You are under arrest."
Now was the time for Phil to pretend to be shocked. But she couldn''t. She felt as if one weight had been lifted from her and replaced with another, heavier weight.
She burst into tears.