Taurus Express

Finally, the problem was solved and I was free to do what I wanted to do. I must say I was exhausted but on the other hand that was my job and my love - puzzling out crimes, finding out who had done it. After that very important case in Palestine, I was in Aleppo (Syria) waiting to start my journey by the Taurus Express. I talked with Lieutenant Dubosc just seconds ago. My sleeping compartment was, well it was fine by me, not too luxurious. I thought about resting for a while, curled up in a corner and then let the sleep overtook me.


This is the photo of the Taurus Express, unfortunately not taken by me.

Ah, better. Time: half past nine. What do I need? Hot. Steamy. Black. Cafe. Mot juste.
I walked out and headed straight to the restaurant-car.

There was only one occupant whom I recognized as the young English lady the conductor was talking about.

   Miss Mary Debenham

Tall, slim and dark, I gave her more than 28 years of age. She was reminding me of a cosmopolitan, with the way she asked the attendant for more coffee. I could smell her knowledge and experience from where I was standing. I was trying not to seem obvious of my amusement, studying her with curiosity. I quickly made my judgment: it was as clear as sky that wherever she went, she could take care of herself with perfect ease. I must say she was beautiful, with the delicate skin, black waves of hair and her eyes - cool, impersonal and grey. Without doubt, I couldn't call her 'jolie femme' - she was a little too efficient to my taste.

My observation was interrupted by another person entering the restaurant. It was a man. He was tall, between 40 and 50, lean, with brown skin andslightly grizzled hair around the temples. That was the colonel from India.

 Colonel Arbuthnot

The man gave a little bow to the girl, said hello and sat on the chair opposite her. His eyes rested on me for a moment but knowing the English mind I knew he thought: 'Only some damned foreigner'. They were not too chatty but I could catch some information about them. Later on we walked out together and I noticed something: Colonel Arbuthnot was really susceptible and Miss Debenham's manner was slightly repressive. Just a minute later I became a witness to colonel's sudden outburst. It was an odd comedy I was watching, I must say.

Meanwhile, we arrived in Konya, they went to stretch their legs and I stayed inside but after 10 minutes I decided that a breath of fresh air wouldn't be such a bad thing after all, so I bundled up and descended gingerly on the platform...

What's it about?

I walked out beyond the engine when I heard voices. I quickly discovered that those two voices belonged to Miss Debenham and Colonel Arbuthnot. The words they said made me incredibly curious. 'What has to be over?' I thought. They may have quarrelled. They spoke little to each other and the girl looked really anxious the next day. But more curiosity was about to come...

When something caught fire under the dining car, the whole express was stopped but what made me intrigued was the reaction of Mary Debenham. She was afraid of the delay as time was really important for her but I asked myself:  'Why?'. Almost ten minutes later the train started again and the girl's worries were needless.
Ugh, I really didn't like that kind of travelling. I was separated from my travelling companions on the boat and didn't see them again.
On arrival at the Galata Bridge I drove straight to the Tokatlian Hotel.



At the hotel there was an unexpected telegram for me:

'Development you predicted in Kassner Case has come unexpectedly please return immediately.'

Ah, that meant one thing - I'm going straight to London as soon as possible.
I asked the concierge to book a ticket to London for me on the Orient Express.
When I was going to order, I felt a hand being placed on my shoulder. It was M. Bouc. We chatted for a while, then he walked away and I started eating my meal. I was looking around when two people caught my eye. The first one was a man of thirty, clearly an American.
Hector MacQueen

The other, who really had attracted my attention, was also a man between sixty and seventy. He was slightly bald but all I could think of him was that he had benevolent personality, except one thing. His eyes. They were small, deep set and crafty.
Mr. Ratchett


When he looked at me there was something strange in his eyes. Tension, I thought, but it was more odd than that. When he passed me by he had an expression of a wild animal. I said that to M.Bouc and asked him about his observations but they only made me more curious about what was to come...

ISTANBUL TRIESTE CALAIS

I must say that the problems I had with my compartment were irritating but in the end everything turned out positive thanks to my friend M.Bouc. Thank God he had that high of a position there. I found myself in the compartment No.7 with an interesting young man - Hector MacQueen. As the Orient Express started its three-days journey through Europe, I could sense that something was going to happen but I couldn't say what was that and why I had such a bad feeling...

The following day I was a little late in entering the luncheon-car. I spent the morning going through the notes of the case that was calling me to London.
I sat with Bouc and started talking. And again I found some interesting figures to occupy my eyes and my mind.

There were three man sitting at the opposite table.
1. the big swarthy Italian
2. the neat Englishman
3. the big American in a loud suit (possibly a commercial traveller)


When my eyes passed on I spotted one of the ugliest woman I had ever seen. M.Bouc explained quickly that that was Princess Dragomiroff. A russian cosmopolitan, extremely rich.

Between those people I also saw Mary Debenham with two other women. The first was elder and extremely talkative . The second was a tall middle-aged woman in a blouse.

And where was Ms. Debenham there would also be Colonel Arbuthnot with his gaze fixed on her. But why weren't they sitting together? I couldn't answer that question, surely not then.

At the far end against the wall, there was a middle-aged woman in black. Scandinavian or German. Maybe a German lady's maid.

There was also a couple. A well built man and beautiful young lady, who M.Bouc introduced as representatives of Hungarian Embassy.

When nearly everyone left, I was greeted by Mr.Ratchett. Surprisingly he knew who I was. He asked for a protection, he claimed that someone is coming after him, meaning someone wanted to kill him. He wanted me to take care of his case. But my answer was no. He asked why. As honestly as I could I told him I didn't like his face and with that I walked out of the restaurant-car.

Standstill

Our train arrived in Belgrade at 8:45 pm. It was due to our stay there for a half an hour so I descended to the platform. I didn't stay there for long - the cold was bitter and the snowing was really heavy then. I had been informed that my suitcases had been moved to the compartment No.1 and my friend, M.Bouc had moved into the coach from Athens. I went in search of him. He was too polite but I couldn't say no to him.

 Me seeing how cold it really was, brrr

At 9:15 pm the train pulled out of the station, shortly after that I said good night to my friend and made my way to the compartment No.1 which was right next to the dining-car.

On the second day of my journey, the barriers between me and my companions were breaking down. I was glad they did. Time was passing rather slowly. I was entertained by the people on the train though and I wasn't grumbling.

After chatting with Mrs Hubbard I walked straight to bed and slept till a few hours later that I awoke. I knew what it was that had woken me - a loud groan, almost a cry, somewhere really close. Suddenly I heard a ting of a bell, sharp, that made me sit up and switch on the light. I noticed then that the train was at a standstill. Strange, really strange...

I got out of the bed and opened the door just as the Wagon Lit conductor came hurrying along the corridor in order to knock on Ratchett's door. Ratchett,who had the next compartment, the closest to mine. After he knocked the second time a voice came from behind the door: 'Ce n'est rien. Je me suis trompe.' The conductor run quickly where the light was showing. I returned to bed, relieved. I glanced at the watch, it was 12:37 am. I had troubles going to sleep again. First of all, I missed the motion of the train and second, I didn't have the condition to do so. The 'tinging' of the bell was really infuriating, Mrs.Hubbard was really impatient but when the conductor said the last words to her: 'Bonne nuit, Madame.', I pressed my own finger in order to ask him for a mineral water. I got the information that we were snowed in. We were between Vincovi and Brod that time. I drank the water and was trying to fall asleep when I heard a thud, like something heavy had fallen against the door.
In one quick motion I got to the door and looked out but everything was quiet and peaceful. It must have been just my nerves. I got back to bed and fell asleep...

A friend in need is a friend indeed

When I woke up, we were still at standstill. I went to the dining-car. Everyone was talking animatedly, there were no barriers then. They were worried that they were late for something. I remained with them through all morning in the dining-car, watching, talking and of course eating. Everyone was really impatient, except, which was really strange, Miss Debenham, who as far as I remember was very impatient when we were only 10 minutes late to Istanbul. That got me thinking but the thought passed quickly. Later I was asked by my friend, M.Bouc to join him in his compartment, so I did as he asked. I followed the Wagon Lit conductor to our destination, then he tapped on the door and we walked in. That wasn't his compartment, it was one of the second-class, larger than the rest. I spotted M.Bouc sitting on the small seat, he cried: 'Ah, my good friend, come in. We have a need of you.' 

'Aha,' I thought 'That's going to be interesting...'

M.Bouc 

What happened?

I sat down facing him and asked what had happened. He said that 'one of the passengers lied dead in his berth - stabbed'. Which passenger? Who did it? Why? The questions in my head started to form and they needed to be answered. I would love not to take that case but M.Bouc was too miserable without me. I knew what my task was - to solve the case, to find out who murdered that, wait, woman or man? Man. Mr.Ratchett. The one whose compartment was just next to mine.

Hector MacQueen's information

I decided that first I needed to talk to his assistant - Hector MacQueen. Then I would see the body and the crime scene. That was going to be a very interesting day indeed...

12 suspects and 1 body

I wouldn't have said that that case was easy. The circumstances, the suspects, the evidence, it was all too mysterious and too complicated. I had to do something to make it easier for me. I made notes which would be shown in the next post.

My 12 suspects and me in the center 

And that's the plan of the coach with names of every suspect

That case wasn't easy. That case was terribly complicated but I knew I could solve it...

The Armstrong Case

The note we found in the Ratchett's compartment gave us a clue, maybe not for everyone but for me it was crucial.

'-member little Daisy Armstrong.'

- the note said. That was very important for the rest of the investigation.

I remembered a few things about that case and that's for all those who knew nothing about Daisy Armstrong.

Now you know. Ratchett, was as a matter of fact, Mr.Cassetti - a kidnapper from America. That made me think there was a really big possibility of crime of vengeance.

After I interrogated everyone and looked at the crime scene I couldn't possibly make a judgement who had done it. Everything was too innocent to my liking. I couldn't figure it out.

This is the description of the crime scene:

The information I got was good but not sufficient enough. I didn't know what to do. So I decided to sit for a while and just think...

Thinking helps, it's not a crime.

Daisy Armstrong. 


Vengeance.


Who? 
Why? 
Why now? 

12 suspects. 
12 wounds. 


The Man.
The Woman.


The Pipe cleaner.
The Handkerchief.
The Wagon Lit conductor's tunic.


Elena? Maybe Helena? 


An actress.


Everyone has an alibi.


Why?
Who?


Armstrong family.


That's the clue!

Final Casting

I got an idea while I was thinking: 'I will do a casting.' Each of our suspects could easily fit in the roles in Armstrong life. 


That's the way I see it:


- Pierre Michel (Wagon Lit Conductor) the father of Susanne, Armstrong's      nurse-maid who committed suicide 


- Colonel Arbuthnot - a friend of Armstrongs'


- Hildegarde Schmidt (the German lady's maid) - Armstrong's cook


- Cyrus Hardman - a police officer in love with Susanne


- Mrs Hubbard - in fact Linda Arden, Mrs Armstrong mother


- Antonio Foscarelli - the chauffeur


- Countess Andrenyi - actually Helena Goldenberg, the younger sister of Mrs. Armstrong


- Count Andrenyi - as the husband of a younger sister to Mrs. Armstrong. He wouldn't leave his wife without a help


- Greta Ohlsson - Daisy's nurse


- Miss Debenham - Mrs. Armstrong's secretary and Daisy's governess


- Hector McQueen - his father was Armstrong's lawyer


- Masterman - Colonel Armstrong's batman during the war and later his valet


The last thing I had to do was to confirm it with all the suspects...


Was I right???

The End

When I told everyone what I had known, they started talking. My suspicions were absolutely correct. I got some details, the one that the brain of the operation were Hector MacQueen and Miss Debenham. Honestly, I didn't think of that crime as something really, really bad. The man had kidnapped and murdered a sweet, little, innocent girl. There isn't anything more cruel and bad than murdering innocent child. That's why we, me, M.Bouc and Dr Constantine, decided that we should give the Yugo-Slavian police the best version of the crime - the one with the murderer getting out of the train through the window at the standstill - that way they wouldn't suspect those 12 actual murderers. Smart, wasn't it?

I was proud. Again, I assumed right. I found the murderers, they weren't punished but in that case it was the best way out of the situation. Besides, the place wasn't the best too, right?

What am I going to do now? Maybe have some rest. Yes, that's a great idea.

Goodbye my friends!


Thoughtfully yours,