Locked-Room Mystery Box Set

by Kim Ekemar

  The chief of police merely shook his head sideways.

  “Sarin gas is a chemical agent that attacks a person’s nervous system”, Asghar explained in a grim voice. “Since you can’t control the muscles used for breathing after inhaling it, you die from asphyxia. After the difficulty in breathing begins, you start to vomit and twitch. Ultimately, you become comatose and suffocate in a series of convulsive spasms. Death occurs within a quarter of an hour of inhaling the gas.”

  The policemen looked in shock at Asghar.

  “Her daughter – that is, my grandchild Leila – had been separated from Nayila in the commotion that followed, when people realised that they were about to be hit by a second bomb, after the first one to hit the target had been of the explosive kind. Leila had the fortune of being swept away by desperate people to one of the riverbanks, before the sarin gas spread. Despite this, she too was somewhat affected by the cloud of gas from the second bomb that Shadid launched, but she survived.”

  “So, your reason for murdering Shadid was revenge, then?” the chief of police, who was recording the confession on his mobile phone, wanted to know.

  Asghar merely responded with a weak smile and chose to ignore his question.

  “How did you find out that Shadid was the one responsible for what you accuse him of?” Ricardo inquired. “And how did you track him to the other side of the world?”

  “It didn’t take much to know that Shadid was the one responsible for carrying out the attack, since the use of chemical weapons itself became an international scandal. Really, with a little patience, anyone can look it up on the Internet. Besides, President al-Assad himself was worried about the negative reporting surrounding the use of the weapons once their deployment became public knowledge, in spite of his attempts to cover it up. The military leadership needed a scapegoat, and they decided to let Shadid take the fall. However, Shadid learnt about their plan and decided to disappear.”

  “How did you find him here?”

  “As I’ve already told you, I was a high-ranking army intelligence officer, and I was quite good at what I did. Later, when I was interchanging information with NATO, they gave me some hints regarding his whereabouts that al-Assad and his henchmen didn’t have access to. A year ago, after having determined that Shadid had gone underground in Argentina with an Israeli passport that he had acquired under the name of Ari Cohen, I found that he was working for a cruise ship company. History tends to repeat itself, doesn’t it? Just like with the Nazis at the end of World War Two, the criminals seek refuge in South America. So, a couple of months later, I flew to Punta Arenas and boarded this ship to find out more.”

  “And then you returned for another cruise, but this time with your granddaughter –”

  “I thought her presence would give me a good cover”, Asghar interrupted him.

  “It must have been difficult to corner Shadid alone”, Captain Abasolo ventured. “Unless the ship casts anchor while the passengers are on an excursion, there are always an officer of the watch and an able seaman acting as lookouts on the bridge.”

  “Yes, that’s something that I learnt on my first cruise with you”, Asghar confirmed. “So, I waited patiently until that moment came, and yesterday I watched how the officer here, whose first name I believe is Ernesto, left the bridge to go downstairs to the deck below.”

  “You became ill the night before from the food we had, and you were taken to your cabin where our medic treated you”, Captain Abasolo pointed out.

  “Well, I had to come up with some excuse for remaining on board when the excursions the following day would take place. The onshore excursions during this quite expensive cruise are of course the whole idea of paying for it, don’t you agree? I swallowed some pills during dinner that provoked the vomiting. On our own in my cabin, it wasn’t hard to fool the doctor that I had truly experienced food poisoning. Then, the next day when the rest of the passengers had gone ashore and I was sitting alone in the Sky Lounge, I watched the comings and goings to and from the bridge to determine when Shadid would finally be alone there. And since I assumed that the ship would stay moored until the passengers who had gone ashore returned, I was hopeful to at some point catch Shadid alone on the bridge.”

  “Go on.”

  “Around three o’clock yesterday afternoon, I knew that only Shadid and one more officer remained on the bridge. Then I saw the officer, Ernesto, coming out and disappear down the staircase. I was completely alone in the Sky Lounge since the passengers who had remained on board preferred the superior view from the Darwin Lounge with its bar. Anyway, at this time there were only a handful of them, as Leila had informed me. There was no one in the corridor that connects the bridge with the lounge I was in.”

  “Was Leila familiar with what you were up to?”

  “Absolutely not!” Asghar said, almost angrily. “I asked her about the passengers who remained on board after lunch when she came to see how I was, that’s all.”

  He suddenly appeared more agitated, Ricardo noticed, as Asghar began tapping his feet. Did he just tell me a lie, he thought, or is he about to? The only time he gets nervous is when Leila’s name is mentioned.

  “And when you knew that Shadid was alone on the bridge, what did you do next?” Ricardo wondered.

  “I walked down the corridor towards the bridge when I suddenly felt the ship’s engine come alive. That both surprised and worried me, because I didn’t know if it meant that some other officer would join Shadid on the bridge. As the captain just pointed out, supposedly there should be at least two crew on the bridge when the ship is in movement. Anyway, I quickly went to the door that led to it. The door wasn’t locked. I opened it and saw Shadid’s back. He asked a question in Spanish that I didn’t understand, and to which I replied a greeting in Arabic. He turned around, worried, gratifying me with the fear in his eyes in the knowledge that he had a serious problem on his hands. Behind him, I could see the bay and the strait with its looming cliffs. Then, as I raised it, he noticed the gun in my hand. Shadid began protesting that he wasn’t ready to die. You should be, I told him, it’s long overdue. After this brief exchange of words, Shadid threw himself at me, and that’s when I shot him. The bullet hit his forehead, and he died instantly. One bad apple less in this world, I’m more than happy to report. I left him there on the floor and, honestly, more than a little worried that the ship kept moving across the bay. The shot was sure to have been heard, I reasoned, so the people in charge of the ship would stop the engines and throw down the anchor. There was nothing I could do about it anyway, so I quickly left the bridge and retired to my cabin located close by on the same deck.”

  “It seems to me as if you planned his murder carefully”, Ricardo said. “What precautions did you take to avoid being incriminated?”

  Asghar didn’t respond immediately; he merely kept tapping his heels against the carpet. Then he showed a crooked smile.

  “I can’t see why I shouldn’t tell you”, he said. “To prevent the blood splattering over me, I put on a light, hooded raincoat and rubber boots. As for the inevitable traces of gunpowder, I had put on a pair of surgical rubber gloves. It took me mere seconds to reach my cabin, where I put the gloves, the boots and the raincoat inside a small bag. Later, when the initial commotion over Shadid’s death had died down, I went out onto the balcony next to the Sky Lounge and threw the bag into the sea.”

  Ricardo leaned forward and looked at him intently.

  “Now, tell me how you managed to get out from the bridge while all the doors remained locked?”

  Asghar again took his time before answering.

  “I think that’s for you to find out”, Asghar said, smiling enigmatically, resting his chin on his hands holding the cane, “and not for me to tell. Perhaps I didn’t kill him, after all, and the only thing I’ve done is to entertain you with a shaggy-dog story … unless you believe I somehow encountered a silver bridge to the perfect escape.”

  In a flash, watching Asghar with h
is infuriating smile tapping away with his feet somehow made Ricardo connect all the disparate information that he had been pondering since yesterday afternoon.

  “I think I just discovered your ‘silver bridge’, Mister Asghar”, Ricardo blurted out. “This is how I –”

  He was interrupted by the two forensic specialists, who entered the Yamana Lounge to tell the chief of police that they had concluded their investigations.

  “In that case, I believe it’s now best to continue at the police station”, Villaverde said and rose. “Handcuff Mister Asghar and take him to the patrol car.”

  He turned to face Ricardo.

  “As for your discovery of a ‘silver bridge’, you can explain it to me when we get there, Detective Inspector. You, too, need to give a formal statement.”

  “Of course, I must”, Ricardo replied. “I also think it will be appropriate to bring Asghar’s granddaughter with us. Antanias is wanted by Interpol, so you should pick him up, too. And of course, Charles Bright needs to come with us to officially report the disappearance of his wife.”

  “I need to have Captain Abasolo come over for his statement, too”, Villaverde added, “but I think that can wait until later today. Right now, we have our hands full as it is.”

  Asghar didn’t appear visibly upset as he allowed one of the policemen to cuff his wrist to his own. Limping heavily, he was led out of the lounge supporting himself on his cane.

  How can this invalid have killed Shadid and then escaped from the locked bridge? Villaverde wondered, mystified, as he watched Asghar being taken away.

  *

  There was a knock on Charlie’s cabin door. When he opened it, he found Ricardo Arriaga waiting outside.

  “We’re now leaving for the police station, and we want you to accompany us to file a missing persons report”, he was told.

  “Of course”, Charlie replied, “just let me get my stuff.”

  “Just bring what is indispensable”, Ricardo said. “You can come back later to pick up the rest of your luggage. The ship won’t be sailing for some time, I can assure you.”

  After picking up his jacket and putting on a baseball cap, he followed Ricardo to the exit.

  In one sense, everything has gone as well as could be expected, Charlie mused as they stepped onto the quay. On the other hand, the police investigation after the unexpected killing on the bridge sure put a spanner in the works when it came to my mission to eliminate Antanias Murad. Well, let’s see if I can’t catch up with him later.

  Then, just as he got into the back seat of one of the patrol cars, he saw the handcuffed Antanias being ushered into one of the other police vehicles. Ricardo got in next to Charlie, and dialled a number on his mobile as the car began to move.

  “Gabriela? As promised, I’m calling you upon arrival in Ushuaia”, Ricardo said. “I’m arriving one day early because the ship’s itinerary had to be rescheduled … I’ll tell you about it when we meet. No, I can’t see you and Eduardo tonight. Tomorrow afternoon? Yes, that’ll be great. Don’t worry, I’ll sleep on board the ship tonight.”

  CHAPTER 24

  Dinner with Cousin Gabriela

  With the exception of his grandmother, this evening was the first time Ricardo had been invited to the home of a blood relative.

  The night before, Ricardo had returned to Stella Australis from the police station with Captain Abasolo after the captain had given his version of the events. Together, they had had dinner together with Dr Bautista, and afterwards Ricardo had made it an early night. He had slept for fifteen hours straight, exhausted by the events during the past days. His buzzing mobile woke him up at noon the following day. It was Eduardo, his cousin Gabriela’s husband, who called to ask when and where Ricardo wanted to be picked up.

  A few hours later, Eduardo found him waiting at the agreed spot in the harbour. He gently chided Ricardo for having remained on board the ship instead of staying at one of his hotels as his guest. Soon Ricardo found himself comfortably seated in his cousin’s dining room, where Eduardo served wine that he promised he only uncorked for special occasions. Gabriela arrived with sizzling platters of food. The conversation promptly turned to the topic that everyone in Ushuaia was discussing.

  “So, tell me, Ricardo, how on earth did you figure out how the murder was done and who committed it?” cousin Gabriela asked, as Eduardo stood up to serve him the red wine to accompany his tenderloin steak. “Our chief of police made an extensive statement this morning, which was reported on the local TV news and in the El Diario del Fin del Mundo.

  “Yes, how were you able to establish that it wasn’t suicide?” Eduardo insisted, when he was seated. “With all the doors locked from the inside, that was the obvious conclusion.”

  “Part luck; part from being observant, which is essential in my job; and to some extent helped by the murderer’s mistakes”, Ricardo replied. “It was the combination of all these things that pointed to events that didn’t quite fit together, but by any logic had to do so. Once I had established that it wasn’t suicide, I knew someone on board the ship must have committed the murder – this was the simple starting point. The next step was to rule out those who had a solid alibi, like the people working in the kitchen, the bridge players and the captain, who I saw with my own eyes rushing up the stairs from below a minute or so after the shot went off. This eventually allowed me to narrow down the number of suspects to nine. Obviously, there are three things necessary to establish in a case like this: the method, the motive and the murderer’s identity.”

  “Don’t be shy about it – please give us the details”, Eduardo said with a laugh. “It is, after all, an extraordinary adventure you’ve been through.“

  “I knew the victim was left-handed, because when we were taken on a tour to the engine room, I happened to be one among the first to enter. There I found him in a brawl with another crew member. Shadid held the man by his shirt with his right hand and threatened him with his left fist, elbow held high. A right-handed man wouldn’t have done that. Later, when I saw the victim lying in a pool of blood on the bridge, the gun he had supposedly used to shoot himself was in his right hand. As an isolated fact, it could be a coincidence, but it made me suspicious. Although all three doors to the bridge were locked from the inside to make a suicide look convincing, I assumed the working theory that it had been murder just to test its probability.”

  “Your observation skills are indeed remarkable”, Gabriela remarked.

  “Apparently, the bullet had passed through the victim’s skull from the forehead to the back of his head and then through the windscreen protecting the bridge”, Ricardo continued. “However, it struck me as an awkward way if one were to commit suicide: that is, putting the muzzle of a heavy gun at a straight angle against the forehead before pulling the trigger. That’s why I examined the shattered windscreen. Most of the blood splattered on it was spread out as if somebody had thrown a bucket upwards against the windscreen, which was consistent with a gun blast. But then there was a patch to the right of the hole that, at a closer look, had a different pattern.”

  “What did you do when you discovered this?” Eduardo asked, captivated by Ricardo’s narrative.

  “Have some more wine, cousin!” Gabriela insisted, happy to find him in her life.

  “Although the cracks in the windscreen seemed consistent with the bullet hitting the glass, the hole itself – albeit jagged – was perfectly circular. Now, you have to understand that the windscreen on the bridge is sloping, with the upper part leaning further outwards than its lower part. Considering the bullet’s path, that should have given the aperture an oval shape when the bullet passed through it. Then I had a lucky break because of the weather.”

  “The weather?” Eduardo asked.

  “Yes … the weather. It was perhaps a couple of degrees below freezing outside and the cold air entered the hole in the window. As I leaned over the windowpane to inspect the hole, my breath was turned into vapour. To my surprise, underneath th
e patch where the blood had run downwards, the vapour on the cold glass made the clear print of a hand appear. From this, I deduced that someone must have finished breaking the windscreen, which the bullet had failed to do by, leaning on his or her right hand while hacking away at the glass with the other hand.”

  “Meaning that, not only did you have a left-handed victim, but also a murderer who was left-handed?” Eduardo cut in.

  “That’s correct”, Ricardo replied. “I’m sure the police in Ushuaia, who are now investigating the crime scene, will confirm my observation – although I’m also convinced that they won’t find any fingerprints.”

  “Why is that?”

  “Apart from my discovery of talcum powder on the glass, I believe Asghar when he said he had put on a raincoat and surgical gloves. For one, he’s a professional, and secondly, he planned the murder for more than six months. But, going back to my initial observations on the bridge – there I was with more than one indication that the faked suicide was really a carefully planned murder, but I couldn’t for my life understand how the killer had escaped. And unless that irritating technicality was solved, there couldn’t be a case against whoever Shadid’s killer was.”

  “Where did you go from there?” Eduardo asked.

  “I persuaded the captain to assemble everyone on board in the ship’s dining room and asked them all to write down their names, in whose company they were and their precise whereabouts when the shot was fired at twelve past three.”

  “Of course, the killer would lie about anything that could relate him or her to the murder”, Gabriela said, while she served them more of the succulent beef, “so what did you expect to achieve through this?”

  “Two things”, Ricardo explained. “I hoped to reduce the number of suspects to those who lacked an alibi. Secondly, and more important still, I wanted to watch who among those writing down their answers would do so using their left hand.”

  “Very clever”, Gabriela said with a smile.