Murder on the Orion Express

The Murderer

A collective sigh of shock rang out through the room. Beckett stood in silence, as he looked gravely around the room. Eventually, Pilkington spoke sadly.

"A valiant effort, Beckett. You left no stone unturned and I commend you for your hard work. It seems my time on board the Express will sadly come to an end."

A broad smile appeared on Beckett's face. "I am not yet done, Colonel. As I said, with the information provided by the suspects, I could not find the real killer. Dr Purchase is not in my mind a suspect and he is the one who has provided the last piece of the puzzle. The Orion Express has been in operation for over 50 years. In all that time, it has never had need of a medical officer. Again, is it not an usual coincidence that on his very first trip a double murder occurs? And coincidence of coincidences, the famous detective Beckett is also aboard? This is too much to take, my friends. Two murders, seven suspects, a doctor to provide a medical opinion and a detective par excellence all together on the same ship? The very idea makes my head spin. Let us forget for a minute about the "how" and "why" and ask about the "who." Who could possibly have the power to make such an unlikely series of events transpire? I rule out, Lady Luck, leaving only one possibility ... Colonel Pilkington.

There is a long waiting list for the Orion Express. It was not just chance that transpired to place us all together on the same trip. Pilkington is the one who decides who gets to travel. Black is the common link between you all and like you all, Pilkington also wanted him dead."

"But why, Beckett, why?" whispered Purchase, almost breathlessly.

Without any warning, Pilkington jumped up with rage in his eyes and shouted vehemently, "Why revenge of course, why else!" He grabbed a silver steak knife and flung it across the room straight at Beckett's head. Beckett elegantly stepped to one side, allowing the cutlery to clatter harmlessly on the wall. On Beckett's orders, two attendants stepped behind Pilkington, placed hands on his shoulders and sat him back down. Beckett spoke once more.

"The rest is simply a matter of timing. You see, Colonel Pilkington was married once. It just so happened that his wife left him around the same time as he was discharged from the army. She did not die, did she, Colonel? She left you for someone else."

Pilkington began to sob into his hands. "I loved Mary so much. She was my life."

"To add insult to injury, she left you for another man – Virgil Black. I had my suspicions, but when I saw the likeness between your wife in the photograph in your office and that of Black's daughter, I knew they were correct. Once I had established that fact, the events of the evening become clear. You had ordered your staff not to serve any more alcohol to Black, yet there was an empty whiskey glass beside his bed. He did not leave here with it after dinner and you were the only one with authority to bring it to him. After we had all gone to bed, you arrived at Black's cabin with the drink containing the poison. Black himself re-locked the door from the inside, before drinking the poisoned whiskey. Poor Cox was not part of your original plan, but once he had seen you enter Black's cabin, you had no choice but to kill him too. From your military training, you knew the quickest and easiest way to kill him. I imagine you waited until later in the night to kill him to throw me off the track."

"But why us, Beckett? Why drag all of us into this?" asked an astonished Grey.

"Because, my dear Grey, Pilkington believed if he created a puzzle where the pieces did not fit, the truth would never emerge. That was to be my part in the farce. If not even the great Beckett could solve the mystery, he would surely go free. But therein lies his mistake, for most humbly I do declare, that Gabriel Beckett is indeed a great detective, and for him, no crime is unsolvable."