The Murder of Prince Blue Blood

by Tavi4


A Game Of Bridge

When we returned to the drawing room a bridge table had been set out. Coffee was handed round.
“Who plays bridge?” asked Mr. Blood. “Mrs. Shores, I know. And Doctor Hooves. Do you play, Miss Harpstrings?”
“Yes. I'm not particularly good, though.” Answered Miss Harpstrings, blushing ever so slightly.
“Excellent.” Said the Prince, “And Major Amour?”
The Major nodded.

“Good. Supposing you four play here.” He gestured to the table.

“Thank goodness there's to be bridge,” said Mrs. Shores aside to me. “I'm one of the worst bridge fiends that ever lived. It's growing on me. I simply will not go out to dinner now if there's no bridge afterward! I just fall asleep. I'm ashamed of myself, but there it is.”
She showed one of her rare smiles.

I smiled to myself.

They cut for partners. Mrs. Sapphire Shores was partnered with Lyra Harpstrings against Major Shining Amour and Doctor Hooves.
“Mares against Stallions," said Doctor Hooves, grinning, “They haven’t got a hope poor dears!” He laughed, “Ah, your deal I think, Mrs. Shores.”

Mrs. Shores began shuffling the cards expertly.

“Mind you win,” said Mrs. Cherry to Miss Lyra and Mrs. Shores, her feminist feelings rising. “Show the stallions they can't have it all their own way.”

Major Amour sat down rather slowly. He was looking at Miss Harpstrings as though he had just made the discovery that she was remarkably pretty.

“Cut please,” said Mrs. Shores impatiently. And with a start of apology he cut the pack she was presenting to him. Mrs. Shores began to deal with a practiced hoof.

“There is another bridge table in the other room,” said Mr. Blood.
He crossed to a second door and the other four followed him into a small, comfortably furnished smoking-room where a second bridge table was set ready.

So, I thought, he has separated the sleuths from the suspects.

Looking around at the uneven number of ponies, Colonel Pants said, “Oh, we’ll have to cut out,”

Mr. Blood shook his head. “I do not play,” he said. “Bridge is not one of the games that amuses me.”

We protested that we would much rather not play, but he overruled us firmly and in the end we sat down - Mrs. Cherry and I against Silver and Pants.

Inevitably, Mrs. Cherry made a witty but rather brazen comment, on the evident battle of the sexes, and then we began.

Mr. Blood watched us for a little while, smiled in a Mephistophelean manner as he observed on what hand Mrs. Cherry declared two no trumps, and then went noiselessly through into the other room.

There they were well down to it, their faces serious, the bids coming quickly.
“One heart.” “Pass.” “Three clubs.” “Three spades.” “Four diamonds.” “Double.” “Four hearts.”

Mr. Blood stood watching a moment smiling to himself. Then he crossed the room and sat down in a big chair by the fireplace. A tray of drinks had been brought in and placed on an adjacent table.

The firelight gleamed on the crystal stoppers.

Always an artist in lighting, Mr. Blood had simulated the appearance of a merely firelit room. A small shaded lamp at his right front leg gave him light to read by if he so desired. Discreet floodlighting gave the room a subdued glow. A slightly stronger light shone over the bridge table from whence the monotonous verbal ejaculations continued.

“One no trump”, clear and decisive, Mrs. Shores.

“Three hearts”, an aggressive note in the voice, Doctor Hooves.

“No bid”, a quiet voice, Lyra Harpstrings.

A slight pause always before Major Amours voice came. Not so much a slow thinker as a stallion who liked to be sure before he spoke.

“Four hearts.”

“Double.”

His face lit up by the flickering firelight, the young Prince smiled. He smiled and he went on smiling. His eyelids flickered a little.

His party was amusing him.

“Five diamonds. Game and rubber,” said Colonel Race. “Good for you, partner,” he said to me.

“Oh, I have my little moments, Colonel.” I said modestly.

“I didn't think you'd do it. Lucky they didn't lead a spade.” Said the Colonel.

“Wouldn't have made much difference, I expect,” said Superintendent Silver, a stallion of gentle magnanimity.

Colonel Pants looked at his watch.

“Ten past twelve. Time for another?”

“You'll excuse me,” said Superintendent Battle. “But I'm by way of being an ‘early to bed’ stallion.”

“I, too,” I said, for I have never seen the exact point of remaining awake for lengthy periods of time accept perhaps when I am in the process of writing a concerto.

The result of the evening's five rubbers was an overwhelming victory for the male sex, much to Mrs. Cherry’s displeasure. I did not mind as much, for I have never fully understood the conflict between the sexes. As a matter of fact, I’ve never fully understood either sexes altogether.

Mrs. Cherry, though being a rather bad bridge player and not feeling particularly happy on the gender side of things, was a sporting loser. She paid up cheerfully.

She owed three Bits to the other players including myself.

“Everything went wrong for me tonight,” she said. “It is like that sometimes. I held the most beautiful cards yesterday. A hundred and fifty honors three times running.” She rose and gathered up her embroidered evening bag, just refraining in time from stroking her hair off her brow.

“I suppose our host is in the next room,” she said.

Prince Blue Blood was in his chair by the fire. The bridge players were absorbed in their game.

“Double five clubs,” Mrs. Shores was saying in her cool, incisive voice.

“Five no trumps.”

“Double five no trumps.”

Mrs. Cherry came up to the bridge table. This was likely to be an exciting hand.
Superintendent Silver came with her.

Colonel Pants went toward Mr. Blood, I was behind him. "Got to be going now, Blood, old boy," said Pants.

Prince Blue Blood did not answer. His head had fallen forward and he seemed to be asleep. Fancy gave a momentary whimsical glance at me and went a little nearer. I was looking over at him. Suddenly the Colonel uttered a muffled ejaculation, bent forward. I was beside him in a minute; I too, looking where Colonel Race was pointing, at something that might have been a particularly ornate shirt stud, but was not.

I bent, raised one of Mr. Blood's hooves then let it fall. I met Pant's inquiring glance and nodded. The latter raised his voice.

“Superintendent, could you, come here a moment?”

The superintendent came over to us. Mrs. Cherry continued to watch the play of five, no trumps doubled.

Superintendent Silver, despite his appearance of stolidity, was a very quick man. His eyebrows went up and he said in a low voice as he joined them. “Something wrong?”

With a nod Colonel Pants indicated the silent figure in the chair.

As Battle bent over it, I looked thoughtfully at what I could see of Mr. Blood's face. Rather a silly face it looked now, I thought, the mouth drooping open - the devilish expression lacking.

I shook my head. Not so much in grief, but more so was I already thinking of the culprit. I gazed absentmindedly over at the four apparent murderers. One of them may have just stuck a second time, if any of them have in fact murdered before, but which one? I pondered the ever-ultimate question in my line of work. The foremost question to ask one self, who did it?

Superintendent Silver straightened himself. He had examined without touching the thing, which looked like an extra stud in Mr. Blood’s shirt, which was not an extra stud. He to raised the limp hoof and let it fall.

The faint sound of the hoof flopping back onto the arm of the chair bought me back to the present. A shame, I thought, I was enjoying deep speculation.

Superintendent Silverstar turned towards the remaining bridge players and Mrs. Cherry. Unemotional, capable, soldierly. Prepared to take charge efficiently of the situation.

“Just a minute, please,” he said.

And the raised voice was his official voice, so different that all the heads at the bridge table turned to him, and Lyra Harpstrings hoof remained poised over an ace of spades.

“I'm sorry to tell you all,” he said, “that our host, Prince Blue Blood, is dead.”

Doctor Hooves and Mrs. Shores rose to their hooves.

Shining stared and frowned. Lyra Harpstrings gave a little gasp.

“Are you sure, stallion?”

Doctor Hooves, his professional instincts aroused, came briskly across the floor with a bounding medical "in at the death" step.

Without seeming to, the bulk of Superintendent Silver impeded his progress.

“Just a minute, Doctor Hooves. Can you tell me first who's been in and out of this room this evening?”

The Doctor stared at him.

“In and out? I don't understand you. Nobody has left this room since we entered it.”

The superintendent transferred his gaze.

“Is that right, Mrs. Shores?”

“Quite right.”

“Not the butler nor any of the servants?”

“No. The butler brought in that tray as we sat down to bridge. He has not been in since.”

Superintendent Silver looked at Shining.

Shining nodded in agreement.

Lyra said rather breathlessly, “Yes - yes, that's right.”

“What's all this, stallion,” said Doctor Hooves impatiently. “Just let me examine him – it may be just a fainting fit.”

“It isn't a fainting fit, and I'm sorry - but nobody's going to touch him until the divisional surgeon comes. Mr. Blood's been murdered, mares and gentlestallions.”

“Murdered?” A horrified incredulous gasp from Lyra.

A stare, a very blank stare from Major Amour.

A sharp incisive “Murdered?” from Mrs. Shores.

A “Good God!” from Doctor Hooves.

Superintendent Silver nodded his head slowly. He looked rather like a porcelain statue. His expression was quite blank.

“Stabbed,” he said. “That's the way of it. Stabbed.”

Then he shot out a question. “Any of you leave the bridge table during the evening?”

I watched their faces. I saw four expressions break up - waver. I saw fear - comprehension - indignation - dismay - horror, but neither Silver nor I saw anything definitely helpful.

“Well?”

There was a pause and then Major Amour said quietly, he had risen now and was standing like a soldier on parade, his narrow intelligent face turned to Silver, “I think every one of us, at one time, or another, moved from the bridge table - either to get drinks or to put wood on the fire. I did both. When I went to the fire Blue Blood was asleep in his chair.”

“Asleep?”

“I thought so - yes.”

“He may have been,” said Silver. “Or he may have been dead then.
We'll go into that presently. I'll ask you now to go into the room, next door.” He turned to the quiet figure beside him. “Colonel Pants, perhaps you’ll go with them?”

Pants gave a quick nod of comprehension. “Right, Superintendent.”

The four bridge players went slowly through the doorway.

Mrs. Cherry sat down in a chair at the far end of the room and began to sob quietly.

Battle took up the telephone receiver and spoke.

I watched him silently.

After a minute he said, “The local police will be round immediately. The Royal family will be informed immediately. Orders from headquarters are that I'm to take on the case. Divisional surgeon will be here almost at once. How long should you say he'd been dead, Octavia? I'd say well over an hour myself.”

I considered this for a brief moment.

“I agree. Alas that one cannot be more exact - that one cannot say, ‘This stallion has been dead one hour twenty-five minutes and forty seconds.’”

Silver nodded absently.

“He was sitting right in front of the fire. That makes a slight difference. Over an hour, not more than two and a half - that's what our doctor will say, I'll be bound. And nobody heard anything and nobody saw anything. Amazing! What a desperate chance to take. He might have cried out.”

“But he did not. The murderer's luck held. As you said, it was a very desperate business.”

“Any ideas, Octavia? As to motive? Anything of that kind?”

I said slowly, just managing to hide a sardonic smile, “Yes, I have something to say in terms of motive. Tell me, did Mr. Blood not give you any hint of what kind of a party you were coming to tonight?”

Superintendent Silver looked at me curiously.

“No, Octavia. He didn't say anything at all. Why?”

A bell whirred in the distance and a knocker was plied.

“That's our people,” said Superintendent Silver. “I'll go and let ‘em in. We'll have your story presently. Must get on with the routine work.”

I nodded. Silver left the room.

Mrs. Cherry continued to sob.

I went over to the bridge table. Without touching anything I examined the scores. I shook my head once or twice.

“The stupid stallion! Oh, the stupid stallion,” I murmured. “To dress up like a devil and try to frighten ponies with his disturbed humor. What foolish childishness!”

The door opened. The divisional surgeon came in, bag in hand; he was followed by the divisional inspector talking to Silver. A constable came next. There was a second constable in the hall.

The routine of the detection of crime had begun.