Murder on the Orion Express

Digesting the Truth

Beckett spent an unusually enjoyable afternoon in his own company, reading and contemplating the events of the last 24 hours. He emerged at 6.59pm and made his way to the dining room. As he had requested, the room was indistinguishable from the previous evening right down to the colour of the candles and the napkins adorning the table. Beckett was surprised to see that apart from Weezle, all of the other passengers were already there.

"Mr Beckett, we arrive back on Earth in the morning and we are most anxious to bring this sorry tale to a conclusion. I think I speak for all of my fellow guests when I ask, do you have a murderer for us?" Grey was seated, if you could call it that, in the same place as the evening before, an attendant standing to attention behind her jar. Her question was met by a general chorus of affirmations from those assembled there.

"We cannot rule out wicked spirits as the perpetrators of the deed," said Mrs Evans, thrusting a finger in the air.

"Can your wicked spirits kill a man with one blow to the head?" asked Dr Purchase.

"What if one of Mrs Evans' creatures took control of one of us and made us kill Black?" said Gudmunson, taking a large gulp from his wine glass. "Who then is the killer, Beckett? The possessed or the possessor?"

Beckett took his seat and smiled graciously. "Having considered all of the facts, I am confident that there was no interference from the spirit world in this particular case."

Andrea White leaned forward. "It's true then, you know who the murderer is?"

"Ah, here he is right on cue." Beckett indicated to the door, where the sullen figure of Reginald Weezle had appeared. "We are about to get started, Mr Weezle. Please join us. I believe Miss White has reserved a place for you. Now, are we all present?" Beckett looked to Pilkington, who nodded in the affirmative. "Excellent, then let us begin."

"Get on with it, Beckett. You think it was me, don't you?" spat Weezle as he took his seat. The room fell silent, awaiting a response from the great detective.

"Mr Weezle," said Beckett, narrowing his eyes. "You are indeed the most likely suspect. There is an overwhelming body of evidence that points in that direction. One could almost say that there is too much. The motive is there, you not only knew Black, but you had fought as vicious adversaries on opposite sides of a bloody war. In fact, as you admitted to me earlier, you wanted to see Black dead and were prepared to kill him should the opportunity arise. We must assume from your military training that you possess the skills necessary to commit both the poisoning and the brutal killing of poor Cox.

Then, what of opportunity? You say you spent the night in the company of Miss White, a fact she verifies, however, you are lovers and it is not a stretch of the imagination to conjecture that Miss White is lying about your movements last night.

Which leads me to my next point. What of Miss White? I believe her affection for Mr Weezle is most real, but is it strong enough to prompt her to commit murder on his behalf? She knew the spectre of Black continued to haunt her lover, but would that alone provide her with sufficient motive? With Black gone, a great weight would be lifted from Mr Weezle's shoulders and they could live out their days together happily.

I will admit to being somewhat of a stranger myself to ways of the heart, however, in my professional career, there is rarely a case that does not involve some element of romantic attachment. Having said all of that, I am very confident in stating that neither of them are the murderer.

Why, you ask? It is simply a matter of the couple placing more value on life than death. After deciding to take this trip together and finally confronting the prejudice which their relationship unfortunately elicits, why would they endanger their future happiness? They had everything to lose and nothing to gain, so I conclude neither is the murderer."