A Murder Most Dapper | A Werewolves in Space novella

The Brasslantis Grand Express

"Oh, does he?" Mortimer asked. "Well, I suppose there's no use hiding it. Yes, we were once colleagues before Quimby's rise to fame."

"Have you heard of the murder that took place this morning?" Oliver asked. "I'm afraid Professor was framed for it, and I'm here to solve the case of the real murderer."

Mortimer places a hand over his heart, the other hand twirling his deviously curled mustache. "Oh my! How dreadful."

"Yes, and it's lucky we ran into you," Juliet added. "Perhaps you could tell us a thing or two about the Professor's past enemies. Someone who would frame him for something like this."

"Quite right, Jules. And is it true you presented inventions at the same event, and Professor Stirlingwell's invention blew yours out of the water?" Oliver asked.

"Oliver!" Juliet scolded. "Have you no tact?"

"It's alright," Mortimer said. "It's no secret, after all. Yes, we both presented an air purification system that would assist with breathing in areas with irritants like tanning yards or paint shops. His invention was much better received than mine due to it's added bells and whistles. The steam-power was much more visible and showy in his, so naturally the crowd took to it."

"A shame we found out a few years later that there were other ill effects from his invention," Juliet said somberly. "A shame, I heard yours would have been a healthier alternative."

Oliver nodded in agreement, then suddenly stopped. "Wait, an ex-colleague of the defamed professor who has reasonable cause to frame him."

Juliet gasped. "Oliver, you're right!"

Oliver stood, brushing some of his hair down into his eyes as he stood with bad posture and took out his smoking pipe. "Mortimer Deckerton, where were you between last night and this morning, before the event at the University?"

"Oliver, while that's a brilliant observation I really think we should call Captain Dappersby for something like an interrogation," Juliet said.

"Nonsense, Juliet. The greatest detective on Mars can handle this!" Oliver proclaimed. "Mortimer Deckerton, answer the question!"

"I'm afraid I have no alibi. I was simply at home last night." Mortimer smiled.

"Ah ha!" Oliver said. "I knew it!"

"Yes, yes. Quite convenient for your case, isn't it?" Mortimer continued. "Quite convenient indeed. Say, you don't have any evidence, do you?"

"As a matter of fact, we do have evidence," Oliver said, a little less confident now. "The murder weapon had the initials P W on it."

"P W, hm?" Mortimer said. "And my initials are M D. Not exactly a match, is it?"

"Well, no," Oliver mumbled.

"I'm afraid, my dear boy, you've come across your first red herring," Mortimer said. "On the surface I look like the ideal suspect."

"But in reality, you were just a distraction in my case. Yes, of course Mr. Deckerton. I'm sorry for any alarm I've caused."

The train whistle blew, signaling the next stop.

"Ah, that would be my stop. Lovely meeting you, good luck with your investigation, detective," Mortimer said. 

"Quite right, lovely to meet you," Oliver said. And Mortimer left the car and exited on the platform.

"Oliver," Juliet said. "I have a feeling you were onto something with Mr. Deckerton."

"Oh, Juliet," Oliver said. "You poor fool. There is simply no way you could understand the nuances of a case as delicate as this one. Of course Mr. Deckerton seems the perfect suspect to you, someone with no history of cases and red herrings and all that."

"But-"

"Now, Juliet. Do quit harping on him before you cause a scene," Oliver scolded. "He isn't a suspect, and that's final."

Juliet huffed and crossed her arms. Her frustration at Oliver had grown tenfold since they had boarded the Brasslantis Grand Express, and he was becoming downright obnoxious. She turned away from him so as to not even see his face until their next stop. And that is when a glint of brass on the floor caught her eye.

She uncrossed her arms and unfurrowed her brow. 

"Well, hello," she murmured, leaning forward to see better. "What's this?"

Taking one of her many handkerchiefs from her corset, she picked up the small item and brought it closer to investigate. Gasping, she turned to Oliver and tapped his shoulder. 

"Oliver!" Juliet cried. "Look!"

The greatest detective on Mars leaned in to see. "A cufflink?"

"Yes, but look at the engraving," Juliet pointed excitedly.

Oliver leaned in to see the fine lines that marked the surface of the cufflinks. P W was written in a delicate scrawl. "Yes, P W. This must have been dropped by the murderer!" 

"Yes!" Juliet said, standing up with excitement. "Now you see it?"

"Right!" Oliver said. "The murderer must be on this train!" 

"What?" Juliet faltered. "No, it means it was dropped by Mortimer Deckerton! Look."

Juliet turned the cufflink upside down and pointed at the letters again. "You see? The letters P W turned upside down, are actually a lowercase m and d!"

Oliver snorted a laugh. "Preposterous. Who places their initials on something in lower case?"

Juliet made a frustrated sound in her throat. "Oliver, if you would just consider-"

The whistled blew again, signaling that the train was about to take off.

"No time, Juliet. I must investigate the entire train before we reach the next stop. Hopefully the murderer hasn't already departed at this station!" 

"But, Oliver-"

"Come, assistant. To the next car!" Oliver cried.

And the two of them harassed the entirety of the Brasslantis Grand Express, before being unceremoniously removed at the next stop for disruption of the other guests. But Oliver knew in his heart he was nearly onto the right lead. The murderer was close, he could just about taste it.