//------------------------------// // The Suspects: Part 1 - First Murderer? // Story: The Murder of Prince Blue Blood // by Tavi4 //------------------------------// Mrs. Cherry, Colonel Pants, Superintendent Silver and I sat round the dining room table. It was an hour later. The body had been examined, photographed, and removed. A hoofprint expert had been and gone. Superintendent Silver looked at me. “Before I have those four in, I want to hear what you've got to tell me. According to you there was something behind this party tonight?” Very deliberately and carefully I retold the conversation I had held with Blue Blood at The Palace Gardens. I told of the reasons for the party and of Mr. Blood’s intentions. In all honesty, I was rather enjoying myself, describing the details of the conversation and watching the facial contortions of the others. Well, with the exception of Silver, he remained stony faced. It began to irritate me frightfully. At one point I was tempted to ask politely if he could possibly pretense an expression of shocked intrigue, but the thought of potential ramifications overcame my urge. When I had finished conveying all I knew, there was a pause. I was just about to ask if I had not given a sufficient answer when Superintendent Silver pursed his lips. He very nearly whistled. “Exhibits - eh? Murderers! And you think he meant it? You don't think he was pulling your leg?” I shook my head. “Oh, no, he meant it. The Prince was a stallion who prided himself on his Mephistophelean attitude toward life. He was a stallion of great vanity. He was also a stupid stallion - that is why he is dead.” I said with a streak of unintentional sociopathic attitude. “I believe you’re right, Octavia,” said Superintendent Silver, following things out in his mind. “A party of eight and himself. Four sleuths, so to speak - and four murderers!” “It's impossible,” cried Mrs. Cherry. “Absolutely impossible. None of those ponies can be criminals.” Superintendent Silver shook his head thoughtfully. “I wouldn't be so sure of that, Mrs. Cherry. Murderers look and behave very much like everybody else. Nice, quiet, well-behaved reasonable ponies, very often.” “In that case, it's Doctor Hooves,” said Mrs. Cherry firmly. “I felt instinctively that there was something wrong with that pony the moment I laid eyes on him. My instincts never lie.” Silver turned to Colonel Pants. “What do you think, Pants?” Pants frowned. He took the question as referring to my statement and not to Mrs. Cherry's suspicions, much to my relief. “It could be,” he said. “It could be. It shows that Blue Blood was right in one case, at least! After all he can only have suspected that these ponies were murderers, he can't have been sure. He may have been right in all four cases, he may have been right in only one case - but he was certainly right in one case; his death proves that.” “One of them got the wind up - think that's it, Miss Melody?” I nodded. “The late Mr. Blood had a reputation,” I said. “He had a dangerous sense of humor and was reputed to be merciless. The victim thought that Blue Blood was giving himself an evening's amusement, a game of cat and mouse, leading up to a moment when he'd hand the victim over to the police – you. He or she must have thought that Blue Blood had definite evidence.” “Had he?” I shook my head thoughtfully. “That we shall never know.” “Doctor Hooves!” repeated Mrs. Cherry firmly. “Such a hearty stallion. Murderers are often hearty - as a disguise! If I were you, Superintendent Silver, I should arrest him at once.” “I daresay we would if there was a mare at the head of Trotland Yard,” said Superintendent Silver, a momentary twinkle showing in his unemotional eyes, “But you see, mere stallions being in charge, we’ve got to be careful. We've got to get there slowly.” "Oh, stallions - stallions," sighed Mrs. Cherry and began to compose newspaper articles in her head. "Better have them in now," said Superintendent Silver. "It won't do to keep them hanging about too long." Colonel Pants half rose. "If you'd like us to go -" Superintendent Silver hesitated a minute as he caught Mrs. Cherry's eloquent eye. He was well aware of Colonel Pants’ official position and that I had worked with the police on many occasions. I believe that allowing for Mrs. Cherry to remain was decidedly stretching a point for the superintendent. But Silver was a kindly stallion. He remembered that Mrs. Cherry had lost three Bits and seven one fifth Bits at bridge and that she had been a cheerful loser. “You can all stay,” he said, “as far as I'm concerned. But no interruptions, please,” At that moment he looked at Mrs. Cherry, much to my silent amusement. “And there mustn't be a hint of what Detective Melody has just told us. That was Blue Blood’s little secret and to all intents and purposes it died with him. Understand?” “Perfectly,” said Mrs. Cherry. “Of course Superintendent,” said Colonel Pants. Pants walked to the door and called the constable who was on duty in the hall. “Go to the little smoking-room. You’ll find Constable Whiplash there with the four guests. Ask Doctor Hooves if he'll be so good as to step this way,” “I would have kept him to the end,” said Mrs. Cherry. “In a book I mean,” she added apologetically. I smiled at this. “Real life's a bit different,” said Silver. “I know,” said Mrs. Cherry. “Badly constructed.” Doctor Hooves entered with the springiness of his step slightly subdued. “I say, Silver,” he said. “This is the devil of a business! Excuse me, Mrs. Cherry, Miss Melody, but it is. Professionally speaking, I could hardly have believed it! To stab a stallion with three other ponies a few yards away.” He shook his head. “I wouldn't like to have done it.” A slight smile twitched up the corners of his mouth. “What can I say or do to convince you that I didn't do it?” “Well, there's motive, Doctor Hooves.” The doctor nodded his head emphatically. “Well, that certainly lets me out. I hadn't the shadow of a motive for doing away with poor old Blue Blood. I didn't even know him very well. He amused me – he was such a fantastic fellow. Touch of the bazar about him. Naturally you'll investigate my relations with him closely; I expect that. I'm not a fool. But you won't find anything. I'd no reason for killing Blue Blood and I didn't kill him.” Superintendent Silver nodded woodenly. “That's all right, Doctor Hooves. I've got to investigate, as you know. You're a sensible pony. Now can you tell me anything about the other three ponies?” “I'm afraid I don't know very much. Shining and Miss Lyra I met for the first time tonight. I knew of Shining before - read his travel book, and a jolly good yarn it is.” “Did you know that he and Mr. Blood were acquainted?” “No. Blue Blood never mentioned him to me. As I say, I’d heard of him, but never met him. Miss Lyra I've never seen before. Mrs. Shores I know slightly.” “What do you know about her?” The Doctor shrugged his shoulders. “She's a widow. Moderately well off. Intelligent, well-bred mare, first class bridge player. That's where I've met her as a matter of fact, playing bridge.” “And Mr. Blood never mentioned her either?” “No.” “Hm - that doesn't help us much. Now, Doctor Hooves, perhaps you’ll be so kind as to tax your memory carefully and tell me how often you yourself left your seat at the bridge table and all you can remember about the movements of the others.” Doctor Hooves took a few minutes to think. “It’s difficult,” he said frankly, “I can remember my own movements more or less. I got up three times - that is, on three occasions when I was dummy, I left my seat and made myself useful. Once I went over and put wood on the fire. Once I brought drinks to the two mares. Once I poured out a whisky for myself.” “The table with the drinks was beyond Mr. Blood’s chair?” “Yes. That’s to say I passed quite near him three times.” “You assumed he was asleep at this point?” “That’s what I thought the first time. The second time I didn't even look at him. Third time I rather fancy the thought just passed through my mind, ‘How the beggar does sleep’ but I didn't really look at him.” “I see. Now when did your fellow players leave then seats?” Doctor Hooves frowned. “Difficult - very difficult. The Major went and fetched an extra ash tray, I think. And he went for a drink. That was before me, for I remember he asked me if I’d have one and I said I wasn’t quite ready.” “And the mares?” “Mrs. Shores went over to the fire once. Used the poker I think. I rather fancy she spoke to Blue Blood, but I don’t know. I was playing a rather tricky no trump at the time.” “And Miss Lyra?” “She certainly left the table once. Came round and looked at my hand - I was her partner at the time. Then she looked at the other ponies’ hands and then she wandered round the room. I don't know what she was doing exactly. I wasn’t paying attention.” Superintendent Silver said thoughtfully, “As you were sitting at the bridge table, no one's chair was directly facing the fireplace?” “No, sort of sideways on and there was a big cabinet between us, a beautiful piece it was too, very handsome. I can see, of course, that it would be perfectly possible to stab the old chap. After all when you’re playing bridge, you’re playing bridge. You’re not looking round you and noticing what is going on. The only person who's likely to be doing that is dummy. And in this case - ” “In this case, undoubtedly dummy was the murderer,” said Superintendent Silver. “All the same,” said Doctor Hooves, “it must have taken nerve you know! After all, who is to say that somepony won't look up just at the critical moment?" “Yes,” said Silver. “It was a big risk. The motive must have been a strong one. I wish we knew what it was,” he added with unblushing mendacity. “You’ll find out, I expect,” said Hooves. “You’ll go through his papers and all that sort of thing. There will probably be a clue.” “We’ll hope so,” said Superintendent Silver gloomily. He shot a glance at the other. “I wonder if you’d oblige me, Doctor Hooves, by giving me a personal opinion - as stallion to stallion.” “Certainly.” “Which do you fancy yourself of the three to have done it?” Doctor Hooves shrugged his shoulders. “That’s easy. Offhand I’d say Shining. The stallions got plenty of nerve, he’s used to a dangerous life where you've got to act quickly. He wouldn’t mind taking a risk. It doesn't seem to me likely the mares are in on this. Take a bit of strength, I should imagine.” “Not so much as you might think. Take a look at this.” Rather like a conjuror, Silver suddenly produced a long, thin instrument of gleaming metal with a small, round jeweled head. A stiletto. We all leaned closer for hope of a better look. Doctor Hooves leaned forward, took it, and examined it with rich, professional appreciation. He tried the point and whistled. “What a tool! What a tool! Absolutely made for murder, this little toy. Go in like butter - absolutely like butter. Brought it with him, I suppose?” Battle shook his head. “No. It was Prince Blue Blood's. It lay on the table near the door with a good many other knick-knacks.” “So the murderer helped himself. A bit of luck finding a tool like that.” “Well, that’s one way of looking at it,” said Silver slowly. “Well, of course it wasn’t luck for Blue Blood, poor fellow.” “I didn’t mean that, Doctor Hooves. I meant that there was another angle of looking at the business. It occurs to me that it was noticing this weapon that put the idea of murder into our criminal’s mind.” “You mean it was a sudden inspiration? That the murder wasn’t premeditated? He conceived the idea after he got here? Er – anything to suggest that idea to you?” He glanced at Silver searchingly. “It’s just an idea,” said Superintendent Silver stolidly. “Well, it might be so, of course,” said Doctor Hooves slowly. Superintendent Silver cleared his throat. “Well, I won’t keep you any longer, Doctor. Thank you for your help. Perhaps you’ll leave your address.” “Certainly. Two hundred Thoroughbred Estates, W. two. Telephone Field Street No. Two-three-eight-nine-six.” “Thank you. I may have to call upon you shortly.” “Delighted to see you any time. Hope there won’t be too much in the papers. I don’t want my nervous patients upset.” Superintendent Silver looked round at me. “Excuse me, Miss Melody. If you’d like to ask any questions I’m sure the doctor wouldn’t mind.” “Of course not. Of course not. I’m a great admirer of yours, Miss Melody. ’It's all in the mind - order and method.’ I know all about it. I feel sure you’ll think of something most intriguing to ask me.” He said cheerfully. I sat forward in my chair and frowned in my omnipresent contemplating manner. “No, no. I just like to get all the details clear in my mind. For instance, how many rubbers did you play?” “Three,” said Hooves promptly. “We’d got well into the fourth rubber when you came in.” “And who played with who?” “First rubber, Shining and I against the mares. They beat us, Celestia bless ‘em. A complete walkover, we never held a card. “Second rubber Miss Harpstrings and I against Shining and Mrs. Shores. Third rubber Mrs. Shores and I against Miss Harpstrings and Shining. We cut each time but it worked out like a pivot. Fourth rubber Miss Harpstrings and I again.” “Who won and who lost?” “Mrs. Shores won every rubber. Miss Harpstrings won the first and lost the next two. I was a bit up and Miss Harpstrings and Shining must have been down.” I said smiling, “The good superintendent has asked you your opinion of your companions as candidates for murder. I now ask you for your opinion of them as bridge players.” “Mrs. Shores is first class,” Doctor Hooves replied promptly. “I’ll bet she makes a good income a year out of bridge. Shining’s a good player too - what I call a sound player - longheaded chap; Miss Harpstrings you might describe as quite a safe player. She doesn't make mistakes but she isn't brilliant.” “And you yourself, Doctor?” Hooves’ eyes twinkled, “I overbid my hand a bit, or so they say. But I’ve always found it pays.” I smiled. Doctor Hooves rose. “Anything more?” I shook my head. “Well, good night, then. Good night, Mrs. Cherry. You ought to get some copy out of this. Better than your untraceable poisons, eh?” Doctor Hooves left the room, his bearing springy once more. Mrs. Cherry said bitterly as the door closed behind him, “Copy! Copy indeed! Ponies these days are so unintelligent. I could invent a better murder any day than anything real. I’m never at a loss for a plot. And the ponies who read my books like untraceable poisons!”