20
I Found a Secret Passage!
From: Pops
To: Vixie
Dear Vixie,
After Mr. Leviri left, I wrote my previous message to you. Then, I contemplated the various governing families of Majriti and wondered who might have an interest in the temporary disappearance of Count Yougen. As I did this, I was struck by one point especially: Why had Lodimmick and Julbo maneuvered to turn me out of room no. 1709 on that first night? I felt perfectly sure that it was a willful maneuvering even though the significance of the facts had not struck me until after my talk with Mr. Leviri.
After lunch, I wandered quietly upstairs and looked at room no. 1709. Unfortunately, I could only look at the outside of it because it happened to be occupied, but the guest was leaving that evening for a longer stay on Reitsema. I realized that there was little object in gazing blankly at the outside of a room so I wandered quickly up to the next floor. I was on that floor when I unwittingly discovered no. 1709 is exactly under the State apartments. I immediately issued instructions to the office that no. 1709 was not to be re-booked to anyone until further orders.
I’m afraid it was only then that I saw your note and the notice to watch Rocco.
I do wonder what you are up to and hope all is well with you.
I immediately rode down to Deck 3 to make a preliminary inspection of Rocco in his lair. At the same time, I found it hard to believe that this suave and stately gentleman, this enthusiast of gastronomy was concerned in the machinations of Julbo and other rascals unknown.
This was my first trip to the Ritzavoy XI’s kitchens. I discovered everything in them was new and updated with all the latest from every planet in the system. The two-story area covered nearly one-quarter of the decks 3 and 4. They were walled and floored from end to end with tiles and marble, which enabled them to be washed down every morning.
I learned that visitors are sometimes taken to see the the plate-dryer, the Ritzavoy-spit (a contrivance of Feliste Ritzavoy’s own), the silver-grill, the system of connected stock-pots with fat spigots for dispensing their contents, the automatic linen napkin folder, and other amazing phenomena of the department.
On my visit, I was fortunate to see the artist who sculpts ice into forms of men and beasts for table ornaments and the man who daily invents fresh designs for pastry and blancmanges. Twelve chefs pursued their labors in those kitchens, helped by ninety sous chefs, and a further army of unconsidered menials. Over all these was Rocco, supreme and unapproachable. Half-way along the suite of kitchens, Rocco had an office of his own wherein he thought out those magnificent combinations, those marvelous feats of succulence and originality, which have given him his fame.
My sudden and unusual appearance in the kitchen caused a little stir. I said nothing to anyone merely wandering about amid the maze of copper utensils and white-capped workers. At length I saw Rocco, surrounded by several admiring chefs. He was bending over a freshly-roasted partridge which lay on a blue dish. He plunged a long fork into the back of the bird, and raised it in the air with his left hand. In his right, he held a long glittering carving-knife. He was giving one of his famous exhibitions of carving. In four swift, unerring, delicate, perfect strokes he cleanly severed the limbs of the partridge.
I must say, Vixie, it was a wonderful achievement, and the other chefs emitted a hum of applause. Then Rocco, long, lean, and graceful, retired to his office. I knew visitors never caught a glimpse of Rocco in the kitchens, though sometimes, on a special night, he may stroll nonchalantly through the dining room to receive the compliments of the cruiseshuttle habitués.
When he exited, though, I followed him and found him sitting behind a desk with one hand over his eyes. When I asked what he was doing, it startled him at first. However, he told me he was inventing a recipe for a new mayonnaise. Apparently, he has no need to mix things and taste them when he invents a new dish.
I decided to probe the waters and asked if he had heard Julbo had been arrested in Ventstot. I told him Julbo had been implicated with several others in the murder of Mr. Cagginald Lodimmick.
His indifference was so superb, so gorgeous, that I instantly divined his demeanor was assumed for the occasion.
Then, while continuing my careful watch of him, I let him know the police were planning to perform a thorough and systematic search of the cruiseshuttle tomorrow. I informed him that I did not want him to be concerned about it.
He told me that he would not object to the detectives looking through his rooms.
I finished by asking him to keep everything quiet, of course, on the grounds that the police were not ready to announce it to the press.
I was very well satisfied with the little conversation. It was perhaps dangerous to tell a series of mere lies to a clever fellow like Rocco. It might be difficult to ultimately explain them to him if our suspicions should be unfounded, though. Nevertheless, his manner and a strange elusive something in the man’s eyes had nearly convinced me that he is somehow implicated in Julbo’s schemes.
Love,
Your Pops
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