22
No Way Forward?
From: Pops
To: Vixie
Dear Vixie,
I could especially use your skills of deduction at the moment, so I have decided to catch you up on the events of the past few hours.
It was of course plain to me that the peculiar passageway which I had discovered at great personal inconvenience must have been specially designed by some person or persons for the purpose of keeping a nefarious watch upon the occupants of the State suite apartments. It was also a means of communication between the two rooms that was at once simple and ingenious.
It is possible the space initially had the innocent purpose of allowing access to water pipes and electrical wires, but there could be no innocent reason for an eye-hole that allowed a view of the bathroom and bedroom. The hole is so small it probably would scarcely ever be noticed by someone inside the State rooms. I also observed that it must have been made for a man somewhat taller than myself. I was obliged to stand on tiptoe in order to get my eye into the correct position.
Notably, both Julbo and Rocco are distinctly above the average height. They are also both thin men and could have ascended the passageway with comparative ease. Although I would not say I am stout, I am a well-set man with large bones and found the task rather uncomfortable.
I watched the mysterious movements of Rocco, thankful that the door between the bathroom and the bedroom was wide open. However, I could see only half of the bed, and at intervals, Rocco passed out of my sight as his lithe hands moved over the object which lay on it. After a time, as my eyes grew accustomed to the position and the light, I was able to finally make out the body of a man.
To be more exact, I could discern the legs of a man in the area visible to me. I was disconcerted by this because I initially believed that Rocco had some unconscious human being helpless on that bed. The legs never moved. Therefore, the hapless creature was either asleep or under the influence of an anesthetic—or (and this was a horrible thought to me) dead.
I wanted to call out, to stop by some means or other the dreadful midnight activity which was proceeding before my astonished eyes, but I managed to restrain myself.
On the sink in the bathroom, I noticed certain strangely-shaped utensils and instruments which Rocco used from time to time. The work seemed to continue for interminable hours until, at last, Rocco ceased, gave a sign of satisfaction, and came into the bathroom, where he took off his coat and very quietly washed his hands. As he stood calmly and leisurely wiping those long fingers of his, he was less than four feet from me. Believe me, Vixie, I was trembling and holding my breath in fear that Rocco would detect my presence behind the woodwork and run off before I could confront him. But nothing happened, and Rocco returned unsuspectingly to the bedroom. I was certain at that point that it was a corpse upon which Rocco had been exercising his mysterious and sinister functions.
It seemed incredible—impossible—that this high luxury cruiseshuttle had such goings on, but I remembered what Feliste Ritzavoy had said to me and realized the truth of the saying anew. As the proprietor of a vast and complicated establishment like the Ritzavoy XI, I could never know a tenth of all the extraordinary and strange occurrences that happened daily under my very nose. Nevertheless, I fell that Fate was carrying things with a rather high hand when it permitted my chef to spend the night hours over a man’s corpse in my State bedroom—the sacred apartment which was only supposed to be occupied by government officials. It was then that I decided this was a little too much mystery for my taste. I am sure that even Feliste Ritzavoy would have been surprised at this.
To top things off, Rocco suddenly grabbed his com-tab and switched off the only two electric lights that were on, flooding the State bedroom in darkness. There was a blinding flash of light, and it occurred to me that the master chef had taken a picture of his work!
The dazzling flash did allow me to make out the features of the dead man. It was Cagginald Lodimmick!
At this point, I can take no more. I must find a way out of this hideaway and capture the fiend! Sadly, you are not here to aid me in my task, and I feel it will be fruitless or take too long and Rocco will be gone with all the evidence.
Love,
Your Pops
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