Infinity Plus: Quintet

by Neil Williamson

  Dhow-lin was angry. "You can rely on me to do that," she said.

  I walked with Dr. Vanchovy to the room on the first floor, Dhow-lin muttering behind us.

  Poor Yasque – I felt sorry for her now – lay stretched out on her mess of a bed, neck exposed and head flung back, a rough blanket covering the rest of her body. As Dhow-lin and Dr. Vanchovy surveyed the room I tip-toed over to her body, for I had seen a slip of white neoprene in her hand. I took it and said, "Look, she wrote a note to somebody."

  Immediately Dr. Vanchovy said, "Put that down, boy! You are contaminating the evidence!"

  But it was too late. I had read it. It said:

  You will never get it. That's final. Stop hounding me.

  Dr. Vanchovy snatched the slip from me, a black expression on his face. Dhow-lin scolded me, saying, "Can't you keep your fingers to yourself, boy?"

  "Sorry," I said. Secretly, I was wondering who Yasque's nuisance admirer might be. She bedded mostly men, I knew. Anybody, really, if they paid.

  I watched as Dr. Vanchovy examined the body. He slipped a few bits and pieces into his pocket, including the necklace of small globes, then led us back to the common room. There he solemnly addressed us.

  "Yasque has been poisoned. Now then, I notice that our two famous chess players can see the steps up to the corridor on the first floor. Praes-lin, who have you seen go that way this evening?"

  Praes-lin scratched a flea bite on her arm then replied, "Only three. Jizhaqar went up there, and later Aqa. And Baylockell. He went up there last of all."

  Dr. Vanchovy nodded. "Then we have three suspects, and one of them is sure to be the murderer. Aqa the belly dancer, Jizhaqar the tambourine player, and Baylockell, lately of the Temple of Pure Justice. Tomorrow morning I shall begin my investigation."

  "What shall we do with these suspects tonight?" asked Dhow-lin.

  Dr. Vanchovy turned to me. "Boy, run along and request doorwomen from the Temple of the Goddess. They will ensure nobody escapes the inn." He turned to a frowning Dhow-lin to add, "Yasque once worked there, so they will agree."

  I could not help it. I had to speak out. "But what of the note?" I asked. I wanted to be part of the investigation.

  Dr. Vanchovy frowned and said, "Leave the question of the note to me."

  He looked very much the professional detective bothered by a serving boy. I blushed, and lowered my gaze to the ground.

  ~

  It is now time to tell of the events that followed the discovery of the victim.

  The Temple of the Goddess could spare only three doorwomen. Two guarded the front and rear doors of the inn while the third watched the upper floor windows. It was not ideal, but at least they were wearing light-amplifying contact lenses.

  To my surprise Dr. Vanchovy instructed me to guard the room with the body all night, and under no circumstances to let anybody in. Even Dhow-lin was banned. I racked my brains as to why I should have to perform this onerous task, deciding that because too few doorwomen had arrived I was to be an extra line of security. In fact my brains were active all night, as I pondered who might have killed poor Yasque, the drifter so lost in this terrible city. You can be sure that I came to no conclusion.

  When Dr. Vanchovy returned next morning I slept for a few hours, while he prepared the common room for the interrogation of the suspects. Before he began he paid a visit to the scene of the crime. Hunched over, he searched the drapes at the window, at length uttering a muted cry and bending down to push his right hand under the couch there.

  "So!" he said. He pulled out an intricate knife with a needle-like blade and a twirled handle. Immediately I recognised it as typical of poisoned stilettos used by priests of the Temple of Pure Justice.

  "Baylockell was here," I gasped.

  "Yes, my boy," replied Dr. Vanchovy. "I think he is to be my main suspect."

  Holding the knife between thumb and forefinger he approached Yasque's body and peered at the neck, before touching the blade to her, just below the ear.

  "An exact fit," he remarked. "Come downstairs, boy. With your estimable employer Dhow-lin we will begin the interrogations."

  This we did. The four of us sat in the common room. To be frank, I was excited, but nervous also. I hardly knew Yasque. It was the skill of Dr. Vanchovy and the inexorable progress of the deductions that amazed me. I watched as he preened himself like a perfumed peacock; the eyepatch had gone. But how I wanted to be a detective that morning!

  We had cleared the room so that none would hear any intimate details. I was the official recorder, taping the conversations onto a bio-rec. Baylockell frowned throughout the interview. He was a tall man, moustached, sallow, with dark eyes and a serious expression. As befitted a former man of the Temple of Pure Justice he showed no emotion, nor any real interest in the proceedings. He just answered mechanically.

  "Baylockell," Dr. Vanchovy began, "do you recognise this knife?"

  "It is from the Temple of Pure Justice."

  "Yes. So I thought. This knife was found under a drape at the windowed end of Yasque's chamber. Can you shed any light upon how it might have got there?"

  "No," Baylockell answered.

  "Would you agree that it acts as evidence against you?"

  "Circumstantial evidence, maybe. But I did not enter Yasque's room, nor have I ever seen that knife."

  "So you say," Dr. Vanchovy said, leaning forward.

  "Anybody could have entered Yasque's room by the window."

  "The window was locked and has not been forced. For somebody to enter, force would have been necessary."

  "So you say."

  Dr. Vanchovy tried another tack. "A note was found in Yasque's hand. It tells of a lover who was forcing himself upon her. You, perhaps."

  "No. Yasque was a cheap floozy who slept only with customers. I have never sullied myself with her."

  Dr. Vanchovy sat back as if estimating the tolerance of his suspect. His eyes narrowed in an overly theatrical gesture. "I put it to you," he said, "that you had been forcing your attentions upon the unfortunate Yasque, and when she refused you, telling you to stop hounding her, you poisoned her with your temple knife."

  "Nonsense," said Baylockell. It seems odd now, but he actually seemed bored with the whole affair. I tried to guess his thoughts. He seemed guilty to me.

  "Do you deny that you passed her door on the first floor corridor?"

  "No."

  "What were you doing in that corridor?"

  Baylockell replied, "I went to visit a drugs merchant who was staying the night."

  "Can you prove that?"

  "Find the merchant and you will have your proof."

  Dr. Vanchovy turned to Dhow-lin. Before he had even asked his question she said, "Yes, there was a drugs vendor staying in a room off that corridor, Glaanijk-lin of the Mercantile Quarter."

  "And where is he now?"

  "He went to the south of the city," said Dhow-lin. "He told me he doubted he would return."

  Dr. Vanchovy frowned. "Convenient for you," he told Baylockell.

  "Nevertheless," Baylockell replied, "he is my reason for walking past Yasque's room, and he will provide my alibi for the time I was not drinking in the common room."

  Dr. Vanchovy clicked his tongue. "A most unsatisfactory state of affairs. Very well, for the moment I am done with you."

  I departed the common room, my work over for the time being.

  It was then that I received a surprise. Who should accost me in the kitchen but Aqa, distressed, tears beginning to form in her eyes.

  "What is it?" I asked.

  She put her hand on my arm and replied, "Something awful has happened. Jizhaqar is in a terrible state."

  "Why?"

  "Because she entered Yasque's room last night, and she told me that Yasque was stretched out dead on her bed!"

  ~

  Goddess! I had been told by my precious Aqa that Jizhaqar had seen Yasque dead before either Aqa or Baylockell had passed by. I was astonishe
d. This could only mean that Jizhaqar was lying and had for some unknown reason killed Yasque. She had been the person who had planted the knife in order to implicate Baylockell.

  I decided not to disturb Dr. Vanchovy with my news. You must understand that this was in part because I had already angered him with my behaviour; but I also wanted to see how Jizhaqar would react under questioning.

  First, however, it was Aqa's turn to be interrogated.

  She was first asked, "Did you enter Yasque's room?"

  "No, I didn't."

  "But you did pass by?"

  "Oh, yes," Aqa replied. "I go past that room every night to collect my dancing gear from the store room."

  Dr. Vanchovy turned to Dhow-lin and said, "Is this true?"

  "Yes, it's true. Besides, Aqa has no motive. She liked Yasque."

  Dr. Vanchovy returned his gaze to Aqa and said, "For the moment I have no more questions. You are dismissed."

  Then it was Jizhaqar's turn.

  She was very nervous. A tall, lithe woman of about thirty, she seemed now a shrunken child, pale, with dark rings under her eyes. She almost tripped over as she made her way to the chair that stood opposite Dr. Vanchovy.

  "Now, then," he began. "You were seen passing along the corridor off which Yasque's room lay. Is this true?"

  "Yes."

  "What were you doing there?"

  Jizhaqar squirmed in her seat. "I can't remember exactly. I live here at the inn. I go as I please."

  "Hmmm. And did you enter Yasque's room?"

  "No."

  I tried to conceal my shock at this answer. Jizhaqar did not know that Aqa had relayed to me what she had been told. Jizhaqar was lying to Dr. Vanchovy, thinking that nobody in the common room would know otherwise. As you can imagine, my suspicions were immediately aroused. Yes, she told Aqa that she had found Yasque's body, but we had no proof of that. Jizhaqar could have lied to Aqa, as she had lied here. Also, as I sat there, my mind a buzz of thoughts, I recalled an incident between the two women in which Jizhaqar had angrily denounced Yasque as a drunkard. Could there have been a rift between the two, leading to the murder?

  Dr. Vanchovy was continuing his interrogation. I wanted to interrupt, but I dared not. It was at this point that I decided to undertake my own investigation. I too would be a detective.

  That afternoon I spoke in secret with Aqa. To tell the truth I had a second motive, for I hoped we could form a stronger friendship, one that might even lead to a proper relationship. I would not say that I loved her, but she had certainly caught my eye... as would any belly dancer, I suppose.

  We discussed the situation in her boudoir. I had never been there before, and at first found myself distracted by the glittery clothes and exotic perfumes arranged neatly about the place. Dr. Vanchovy would have thought himself in heaven!

  Aqa repeated what Jizhaqar had told her. "She said that she had gone into Yasque's room and seen the body lying on the bed, exactly as Dr. Vanchovy described last night. She said she was scared, shocked, and that was why she did not report what she had found. She did not want to approach the body. She hoped Yasque was just blind drunk."

  "But why did she go into the room?" I asked.

  "She didn't say. But I got the impression that she wanted to speak with Yasque."

  "There is the matter of the note," I said. "I think it is the crux of this whole case." I moved close to Aqa, in a conspiratorial fashion. "We must do our own investigation. I've just seen Jizhaqar lie to Dr. Vanchovy. She told him she never entered Yasque's room."

  Aqa nodded. "There's something odd going on."

  I continued, "The note was written in Yasque's hand, and said, 'You will never get it. That's final. Stop hounding me.' What could that mean?"

  Aqa shrugged her lovely shoulders and said, "I don't know. Maybe Yasque possessed something owned by Jizhaqar."

  I considered this. We had all interpreted the note as one referring to matters of the bed, but perhaps that was a mistake. Also, what if Jizhaqar was telling the truth? Suppose somebody else murdered Yasque before the three suspects passed her room? But no. The chess-playing twins were adamant that they had only seen the three. Yet that implied the knife was an anomaly.

  Earnestly I told Aqa, "I'm going to get to the bottom of this. If the murderer was one of the three suspects then that knife doesn't fit. Yes, it is a poisoned weapon, but that doesn't necessarily mean it was used to kill Yasque."

  "Dr. Vanchovy said she had been poisoned through a neck wound."

  "Yes," I admitted. "But think, Aqa. Suppose you wanted to implicate someone else, for instance Baylockell? If you knew he would be drinking at the inn on the night of the murder, where would you go to get that type of knife?"

  "The Temple itself."

  "As will we. Come on!"

  And so, like two excited children, we made our way east to the Temple of Pure Justice. That day the rain fell from an especially dark sky, so we took torches to find our way. The streets were a phantasm of lights and reflections, of neon and torchlight. How easy it was to imagine that this was our last year, in the gloom, the methanous stink, the fecund vegetation of our crumbling city. How difficult it was to believe that beyond the walls of Kray no other human being stood on the face of the Earth; that all outside was deadly green.

  It was during this walk that Aqa and I first held hands. You will not doubt me when I say my heart sang.

  The Temple was a structure of bakelite and steel, all perpendicular lines and right angles, severe and forbidding as the moral code of the priests inside. I quailed when I saw it was guarded by seven-eared automata in the form of daemons. There was blood on their sabre teeth. One human guard faced us, an old man dressed in a long coat of felted luminous moss. He refused us entry to the temple because we could not demonstrate our ethical purity.

  But I had an idea. From a wall screen I accessed the temple's diary, where they described the day's services, listed priests available and dispensed news.

  "Look at today's news page," I said.

  Aqa read it out. "Sacred knife stolen late last night or early this morning. Food reward for safe return."

  "Don't you see?" I said. "The knife wasn't in Yasque's room last night. Somebody put it there this morning to implicate Baylockell. All we have to do is find out who slipped in before Dr. Vanchovy found it and we have our murderer!"

  ~

  What, then, had I learned so far?

  Well, I knew that Jizhaqar had lied to Dr. Vanchovy, and I knew that the knife from the Temple of Pure Justice had been placed in the room between my leaving guard duties for a well earned sleep and Dr. Vanchovy finding it. I also knew a note had been written by Yasque to some unknown person: You will never get it. That's final. Stop hounding me.

  And that was about it.

  To be frank with you, I was still confused at this point. If Jizhaqar had lied to Aqa then she would seem to be the murderer. On the other hand, if she was telling the truth, then somebody had murdered Yasque before the three suspects passed her door, an apparent impossibility. Jizhaqar, then, seemed to be the murderer.

  I suspected that the knife found by Dr. Vanchovy had been stolen from the Temple of Pure Justice during the night. If I could show that Jizhaqar had not been in her room that night I would be able to prove her guilt. Yet how could she have escaped the guarded inn? I considered the possibility that she already owned such a knife, but of course that was absurd. There had to be another explanation.

  By now it was time for Dr. Vanchovy to bring us together in the common room and reveal who the murderer was. We all gathered, and I set up the bio-rec, plugging it into an analytical pyuter. Dr. Vanchovy looked dapper in a powder-blue overall, and again I noticed he was no longer wearing an eyepatch, his infatuation with that particular fashion seemingly over. Dhow-lin and the three suspects were also there. Of the latter, Jizhaqar was petrified, Aqa seemed disorientated, while Baylockell was as calm as ever.

  "I begin by pointing out the evidence," said Dr. Va
nchovy. "We have a victim, Yasque, who was poisoned. We have three suspects, all of whom have an opportunity to commit the murder. We have one main piece of evidence linking one of the suspects to the crime. This is what happened. On the night of the murder Baylockell had an argument with Yasque over the affair he wished to conduct with her. She spurned his advances and he poisoned her, using the envenomed knife that he had carried since leaving the Temple of Pure Justice. In his fit he hid the knife in the first available place, then departed."

  Then I looked into his artificial eye and had the answer.

  I stood up. "No," I said in a clear voice.

  Dr. Vanchovy was too surprised to stop me from continuing.

  "I have something to say," I said.

  Dr. Vanchovy laughed. "I cannot fault your eagerness, boy." He waved me on. "Pray give us your version of events."

  So I began my reconstruction of events on the night of the murder.

  "Last night," I said, "Aqa and I went to the Temple of Pure Justice, where we discovered that a stiletto knife had been stolen. It is my contention that the knife was placed in Yasque's room after I finished guard duty, long after the facts of Yasque's murder were known to us all in the Spired Inn. Now what I have been asking myself is this. Why was the knife placed in the room so long after the murder? The answer is that the murderer must have realised it would be needed after Yasque had been found. It was needed in order to implicate someone else. Do you get my drift?"

  "No," came the reply from several confused people.

  "Yasque was not dead when Dhow-lin found her."

  Silence.

  "You must have a reason for saying that," Dhow-lin told me.

  "I have," I assured her. "I believe the murderer did not initially intend to kill Yasque, but only to drug her, in order to reclaim an item owned by Yasque. This is what the note is about. It refers not to matters of the bed, but to an actual object. Yet something happened after the drugging that made Yasque's death necessary. What was that event, I wonder?"