The Lost Scribe of Justitia

The Statement: Part I

Petrich answered the door to what was either a waif of a boy or a very thin young woman. It relieved him that a name was given forthright or else it may have ended up one embarrassing situation for them both. Once sorted, Petrich was only too happy to let Ms. Fitzhugh enter and have a seat. He even offered tea that had just been sent by a porter.
Ms. Fitzhugh pleasantly declined, but asked if she could take a quick photo. Petrich remained standing.
"Should I smile?" he asked as Ms. Fitzhugh stood and focused the camera from her waist.
She lifted her face to him. "Ultimately, it does not matter. I just need it for my files. Do you feel like smiling?"
Petrich shook his head. "Not necessarily."
"Then don't. Just remain very still."
In just a few seconds there was an audible click, and Ms. Fitzhugh slid out the exposed film and tucked it into another compartment.

(Petrich Hollenburg, curtesy of the personal photo archive of Gabriella Fitzhugh)

"Thank you, Master Hollenburg." she said, placing her camera aside and taking out a notebook and pencil. "I am going to ask you some questions before I examine your compartment. Do you comply?"
Petrich sat opposite of her, where Dietfried usually sat. "Yes. I comply."
The questions were easy for Petrich. He only told the truth when Ms. Fitzhugh asked him questions concerning his travel itinerary. Throughout, her expression never changed, and she wrote her notes in efficient short hand script, so she never had to take her grey eyes from Petrich's face, as she listened intently. It was like watching a sight impaired woman (or boy) reading a book for the blind.
She asked if he noticed any difference between the private car he rode in on and the car he was currently riding out. It never occurred to Petrich that they would be different cars completely. It would, however, stand to reason that the Rykindella would have multiple private rail cars that could be switched out easily enough.
       Petrich considered the question carefully, then answered. "The head conductor mentioned the windows being braced shut. It would depend, of course, of how permanent that bracing is. I distinctly remember opening the window while traveling last week to vent it out."
      "I will be having a look soon enough, and having you with me is impertinent, if that is at all possible.  We'll see to some gas masks."
       "Yes, ma'am. Anything to help."
       "One more question, Master Hollenburg, and it is of delicate nature."
        Petrich tilted his head curiously. "Yes?"
        Ms. Fitzhugh inhaled through her nose and looked at the closed door of the guest bedroom where he had slept.
          "Due to the time of the gas bomb incident in the rail car, where you were not, I will need the name of the other who stayed here with you and Captain Baugainvillea last evening.  For questioning, you understand."
           Petrich rolled his eyes heavenward and sighed. "Yes. That is of the delicate nature, isn't it?"
          "If it is of any consolation, Master Hollenburg, I am of no opinion of your evening activities. It is all for the investigation of which I must conduct thoroughly."
          Petrich nodded. "Yes. I understand. The fact of the matter is, Ms. Fitzhugh, I didn't even know her name. That is information only Captain Baugainvillea can provide, I'm afraid."
          "Very well."  Ms. Fitzhugh replied, closing her notebook. "That will be all for now. If you have the time, let us go to your private car."
       They donned the canvas face masks and entered the room.  Ms. Fitzhugh immediately investigated the windows.
         "These look to be bolted shut." she replied with a muffled voice, her face that of some sort of bizarre alien. "Not a hurried job. Do you see anything that might suggest that this is, indeed, a totally different rail car?"
           Petrich looked about, although it was not easy through the glass eye windows of the mask. At first it was the same as he remembered. . . Except for the Rykindella swan emblem. These used a different color palette and was of an older style.  There was no emerald on the breast.  He told Ms. Fitzhugh who promptly took a photo of each emblem just as she had taken one of the dismantled metal canister of the gas bomb before stowing it away in a heavy canvas knapsack.
         After the discovery of the emblems, the other differences popped up readily. Petrich pointed them out to Ms. Fitzhugh who snapped more photos. Once she was satisfied, they exited the room, closing the door and was a good distance from it when Ms. Fitzhugh gave Petrich the signal to doff the masks.
        They both took in deep breaths and both had damp hair from sweat.  Wearing one of these heavy masks for a long period of time would surely bring more harm than good, Petrich reckoned.
         He eyed the knapsack carrying the gas bomb canister. "Is it safe, carrying that bomb in there?" he asked.
         "The gas within has defused to the point of no longer being dangerous within the confines of the canvas sack. I plan to take it back to my office for further testing."
          Petrich returned to Dietfried's car to find Dietfried within, waiting for them. He had just lit his pipe and grinned as a rotten hearted schoolboy for reasons Petrich was not privy to know. 
          Ms. Fitzhugh's expression read as though she had never seen Dietfried before.  She looked at Petrich, gave a short bow. "Your cooperation is greatly appreciated, Master Hollenburg. May I be free to call on you if I have any further questions?"
         "By all means, Ms. Fitzhugh." Petrich replied bowing back, "Thank you for your assistance."
          Dietfried remained seated, blowing out great streams of pipe smoke. "I should like a turn now with the police inspector, Petrich." he said, wolfishly, "She's had the boy, now it's time she had the man."
           "Stop being vulgar." Petrich scoffed, "This is serious business."
            "Then I should think they would have dispatched a serious official!"
           Petrich looked from Dietfried to the young expressionless woman with the grey blue eyes that never left Dietfried's face, then back at Dietfried. "I can't hardly believe it gets much more serious than this."
         "If you are choosing to waste my valuable time, Captain Baugainvillea, I could very well simply add you to the suspect list and question you in wrist shackles at the next stop with armed police. The wire has already gone out for such an arrangement for anyone not peacefully complying to my questioning." Ms. Fitzhugh replied calmly, but then her tone remained low and cold as a freezing bucket of water. "So, which is it?. . . CHOOSE!"
          Petrich jumped just a bit, and Dietfried stared at the inspector. "Well, I certainly will NOT be questioned as any sort of suspect bound in chains!" he complained, "So, very well then. For the safety of my dear friend, ask what you will."
          "You can begin with the names of the women who spent the last evening here."
            Dietfried looked at Petrich, his eyes narrow. Petrich shrugged. "She knows. I just. . . never asked the name of the woman who came to me. So, I could not answer the question."
           "And. . .what will be done with that particular tidbit of information?" Dietfried asked, a slight whisper of nervousness in his voice. "I do have the right to know just how my answers will be used whether or not they are against me, don't I?"
         Ms. Fitzhugh, pencil poised, looked at him. "You didn't know their names, either. Did you, Captain Baugainvillea?"
        "Yes I did!" he replied aghast, "Susannah Something-Something, and her young cousin Patricia. .hmm. . Something."
         If it wasn't so very shameful, Petrich would have laughed out loud. Instead, he paced the room, with his arms across his chest, and slowly shaking his head.
        Then Dietfried had an epiphany, and clapped and snapped his fingers. "Yes! Susannah Wheatcroft! That's it! Ha! Yes! Her husband is Colonel Wheatcroft of 123rd regiment who fought. . .in. . .the. . war. .." Dietfried's voice trailed off as both the inspector and Petrich both stared at him in a sort of disgust.  He looked back at them in genuine surprise. "What??"
         Ms. Fitzhugh shook her head in wonder as she wrote the names and flipped the page in her notebook and continued her questioning.