11
On the Ritzavoy XI a great ball was given that night in the Celestial Sphere Dance and Music Hall. I learned about the affair when I saw it on the calendar, and I knew little about it except that it was an entertainment hosted by a Mr. and Mrs. Salas Leviri and exclusively for the friends who were travelling with them. Who Mr. and Mrs. Salas Leviri were I did not know, nor could I find anything about them except that Mr. Salas Leviri was a prominent member of Themisto’s Stock Exchange and a great financier as well as philanthropist. I also discovered that his wife was a stout lady with an aquiline nose and many diamonds, and that they were very rich and very hospitable.
My father came into the office in an uproar.
“I don’t like it!” he said. “After the murder last night, I do not want a ball or any sort of celebration where masses of people will gather in my cruiseshuttle that evening.
“But Pops, this ship makes a lot of money by renting out its salons for parties such as these.”
“I don’t care. Who am I to need more money? I am depressed and uneasy after everything that happened last night. Plus, I don’t like the name Salas Leviri.”
“Don’t be silly, Pops,” I countered. “I’m sure there are plenty of people, especially from some of the other planets who would find your name silly.” I was not going to mention that I found Elevixie to be a silly name because I was named after his favorite great-aunt. “Besides if you’re depressed, a party is just the thing to relax you.”
“Well, I happen to have a desire to show these so-called plutocrats that their wealth is nothing to me. Now that I am the owner of this operation, I want them to know that they cannot walk all over Baron Theodorick Thomatian. They need to quickly learn that for two pins and a whim I would buy them up, and the whole planet Themisto to boot.”
“Now, Pops, this isn’t some mining industry. This is hospitality. You have to be nice to the guests so they will keep coming back. If Mr. Ritzavoy knew you were going to run his magnum opus into the ground, he would not have sold it to you.”
“Well, I could close the Celestial Sphere and forbid the ball, but I would let Mr. and Mrs Salas Leviri name the amount of damages suffered by them.”
“The thing is that if all these people are at the ball, it will give us the perfect opportunity to look around the ship and see what we can find.”
“I suppose that what I can do in Hraindoral, I can’t be so highhanded about here.”
A wave of relief passed through me knowing that neither Mr. nor Mrs. Leviri would ever have the least suspicion about the narrow escape they had from looking very foolish in the eyes of the four hundred fifty or so guests invited to the Celestial Sphere that evening.
The Celestial Sphere was built as a ballroom with two side areas for a live band. A balcony, supported by arches faced with gilt and lapis-lazuli, ran around half of it, and from this vantage, men and women and chaperons who could not or would not dance were able to survey the scene below. What Pops and I did not know—and that I doubted many people knew—was that higher up than the balcony there was a little barred window in the end wall from this the cruiseshuttle authorities might keep a watchful eye not only on the dancers, but also on the occupants of the balcony itself.
At eleven o’clock Pops, afflicted by his vexatious spirit, and I found ourselves gazing idly through the little barred window. We had been wandering about the corridors of the cruiseshuttle, opening different locked doors, and it was quite by accident that we had lighted upon this small room which had a secretive view of the ball. Except for the light from the chandelier of the ballroom the little cubicle where we stood was in darkness.
“I wonder which is Mrs. Salas Leviri?” I said, looking through the window. “Do you think she really wears so many diamonds as the rumors say?”
The sound of violins and a confused murmur of voices rose gently up to us.
“Umphl” said my father. “Curse those evening news agencies!” he added, irrelevantly but with sincerity.
“Pops, you’re very horrid tonight. What have the evening news agencies been doing?”
“Well, my young lady, they’ve got me in their stories for one, and you in them for another; and they’re manufacturing mysteries for fun. It’s young Lodimmick’s death that started ‘em of course.”
“Well, Father, you surely didn’t expect to keep yourself out of the news. Besides, as regards to news, you ought to be glad we aren’t in Hraindoral. Just fancy what our news would have made out of your buying this shuttle last night.”
“That’s true,” her father assented. “But it’ll be all over Hraindoral soon, all the same. The worst of it is that Ritzavoy has gone off to Majriti.”
“Why?”
“I don’t know. Sudden fancy, I guess, for sightseeing.”
“What difference does it make to you?”
“None. Only I feel sort of lonesome. I feel I want someone to lean up against in running this cruiseshuttle.”
“Are you feeling ill? Or are you someone posing as my father?”
“I admit it’s unusual with me to desire help of any kind,” he sighed. “But perhaps you haven’t grasped the fact, Vixie, that we’re in the middle of a rather peculiar business.”
“You mean about poor Mr. Lodimmick?”
“Partly Lodimmick and partly other things. First of all, that Miss Surcer, or whatever her wretched name is, mysteriously disappears. Then that Lodimmick took my room, and we caught that rascal Julbo conspiring with him at three o’clock in the morning. Then your precious General Ribereus arrives without any servants—which I believe is a most peculiar and wicked thing for a General of his status to do—and moreover I find my daughter on very intimate terms with the said General.” Here I rolled my eyes. My father always had a bad habit of disliking any gentleman I met. “Young Lodimmick goes and dies, and there is to be an inquest. Then Count Yougen and his servants, who were expected here for dinner, fail to turn up at all—”
“Count Yougen hasn’t come?”
“He hasn’t. General Ribereus is in a deuce of a stew about him, sending messages all over Majriti. Altogether, things are working up much livelier than I expected when I bought this place.”
“Do you think there was something between Julbo and Mr. Lodimmick?”
“Think! I know! I tell you I saw that scamp give Lodimmick a wink last night at dinner that might have meant—well!”
“I thought you had seen that wink as well,” I said.
“Why, did you see it, too?”
“Of course, Pops. I was going to tell you about it.”
He grunted.
“Look there, Father,” I whispered, pointing to the balcony immediately below us. “Do you see who that is?” The man wore a bald patch on the back of his head and was propping himself up against the railing of the balcony, gazing down at the dance floor, but I was sure I recognized him.
“Well, who is it?”
“Isn’t it Julbo?”
“Great Scott! By the beard of the governor, it is!”
“Perhaps Mr. Julbo is a guest of Mr. Leviri?”
“Guest or no guest, he goes off this cruiseshuttle, immediately even if I have to throw him out myself.”
“I guess it’s good for him that we are still docked.” I grinned, following my father out of the small room.
By the time we arrived on the balcony, we could see nothing of Julbo, neither there nor on the ballroom floor itself. My father quietly whispered a wicked expletive, and we split apart to search the room in vain. Upon meeting again, we took the twisting stairway instead of waiting for the elevators and returned to our original post of observation, hoping the vantage ground would allow us to find the dismissed employee again. To our surprise a man was already in the dark little room, watching the scene of the ball as intently as we had been doing. Hearing our approach, the man turned with a start.
It was Julbo.
My father and I exchanged a look and moved to block the door.
“Good evening, Baron Thomatian,” said Julbo calmly. “I must apologize for being here.”
“Force of habit, I suppose,” my father said dryly.
“Just so, sir,” he smiled, his eyes glinting.
“I fancied I had forbidden you to re-enter this cruiseshuttle?”
“I thought your order applied only to in my professional capacity. I am here tonight as the guest of Mr. Leviri.”
“In your new role of man-about-town?” I asked, unconvinced.
“Exactly.”
“I don’t allow men-about-town or Mr. Leviri’s guests up here, my friend. The door is clear it is for employees only.”
“For being up here I have already apologized,” he said a little too sharply.
“Then, having apologized, you had better depart. I suggest you follow me to the exit. That is my disinterested advice to you,” my father’s jaw was set.
“I can find the exit myself. Good night, sir.” We did not move from our places blocking the door.
“On the contrary, you shall follow my father, and I will follow you. We wouldn’t want you to slip into any other cubbyholes where you might have had a habit of hiding,” I said.
“And, I say, Mr. Julbo,” my father added. “if Mr. or Mrs. Leviri, or any other person in the galaxy, should again invite you to my cruiseshuttle, you will oblige me by declining the invitation. You’ll find that will be the safest course for you.”
When we finished escorting him, we both headed into the Reception Office.
“My dear, Vixie, I know your mind is turning the same way as mine. Do you have the guest list?”
“You know I do,” I said, popping on the ship’s main com-tab and pressing my hand against the passlock. The screen took up half of one of the office walls, and I could have allowed my father to help with any project on the same screen. However, he would be at a loss as to what he was looking for, so I quickly pulled it up on my own.
Before midnight, we had ascertained that the Leviri’s invitation list, though a somewhat lengthy one, contained no reference to any such person as Julbo.
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