Tuesday, March 11, 2025

The Studied Financier (15)

 When I arrived at the stateroom suite, Nuavy’s maid answered the door. After explaining who I was and that I was interested in looking for her employer, she invited me in anxiously.

“I hope you can put more effort into finding him than that detective,” she said leading me to the sitting area. “He told me Mr. Nuavy probably went on a little mini-vacation to tour the first city the original colonists built. That’s a bunch of malarky! Mr. Nuavy lives by his schedule book and never missed an appointment before this.” 

“What if something comes up?” I asked.

“You always know his schedule, so there isn’t a surprise really. A quiet, orderly, domestic life has much to be said for it. Meals at regular hours; decent, respectable families to dinner—even when his wife is gone there’s no sneaking other women in and out—and no servants are needed at night. There’s much to be said for it. I will say. no one could call Mr. Nuavy vulgar, and my lady at any rate is country-simple, and both of them always most considerate. Regular hours and considerate habits have a great deal to recommend them.” 

When I finished interviewing the maid, I wandered into the kitchen area and found the cook. 

“I heard he had very simple in his tastes—for such a rich man, I mean.”

“Very simple indeed,” he replied. “The meals he and her ladyship have when they’re by themselves—well, there now—if it wasn’t for the dinners, which is always good when there’s company, I’d be wastin’ my talents and education here, if you understand me, Major Thomatian.”

After asking a few more questions in a roundabout way, I then went in search of the personal assistant. I found him shutting the curtains in all the rooms. 

“Ah! Not fond of the view, are you?” I asked.

“Mr. Nuavy believes that sleep cycles are most important. He feels that space travel interferes with them drastically. For that reason, he has the curtains opened and closed every day at the same time. I, personally, feel that if he isn’t here it should make no difference, but who am I to complain?” he replied. 

“I know that sometimes I don’t get back to my cabin until very late, but I enjoy looking out nonetheless. My sleep’s a lot better on the cruiseshuttle though because all the shops close and there really isn’t much to do at 03:00 or 04:00. I have to be up again early each day to deal with some new difficulty that might arise. I have so many options here, though, I no longer need any of my servants except my own personal assistant. If I have to collapse on the bed in the middle of the night, I can chuck my muddy footwear into a corner and toss my clothes in a pile on the floor. By morning, it’s all taken care of as if I never wore the things.” 

“With Mr. Nuavy,” the servant countered defensively, “he’s never lost his good old-fashioned habits. Clothes folded up neat, boots put in his dressing room where they belong. If he gets a stain or scuff, I am told so I can fix it immediately. There is nothing worse than trying to deal with a stain days after the fact.”

“But Mr. Nuavy forgot them the night before last, though.”

“The clothes, not the boots. He’s always thoughtful for others. Ah! I hope nothing’s happened to him.” The man turned away for a moment, and I could tell he was fighting tears.

“Indeed, no, poor gentleman,” I said, resting my hand upon his shoulder for comfort. 

He turned back to me so quickly that I jumped backward. 

“And as for what they’re sayin’,” he said sharply, “that he’d have gone out surreptitiously to do something he shouldn’t have, well, I’d never believe it of him, not if I had to take my dying oath upon it.” After a few moments the anger in his eyes subsided. “If you’ll excuse me, now, I have other things that I must attend to. I want everything in order the moment he arrives back.” 

With that, he left the room. Thankfully, I only had a short while to wait before the gendarme from the detective arrived.


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The Studied Financier (18)

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