Casper stood at the forward end of the coach, his back facing the wall. To his side stood Klein, the accused plump man and the policemen.
In front of him stood 13 attendants standing in a semi circle. They shuffled under his gaze, their eyes darting around the room.
"...And that is the quick outline of the crime as Sherlock and I see it." He explained, closing his eyes.
"So the man who couldn't throw out his blood stained clothes and instead had no choice other than to wash it in the loo is our culprit, then?"
The older policeman asked with slight suspicion.
Casper nodded, closing his eyes in thought. "Yep.. that means our killer is one of the crewmen." He muttered, opening his eyes to gaze at them.
"Those who have a shoe size of 11, please step forward." He announced with a smirk.
Some of the men let out sighs of relief while others did not.
In total, out of the 13 crewmen. Only 5 remained.
"Now, let's examine your gloves." He said slowly, reading their expressions.
"Our gloves, sir?" One asked hesitantly.
Casper nodded in agreement and asked in drawl, "Why? Scared?"
He shook his head, "No, sir. I was just curious."
Werchest stepped forward and pulled the man's hand apart, he glanced at it for a moment before nodding in satisfaction. "Good, next."
Hearing that he was clear, the man sighed in relief.
And so, he continued on to the next three people.
After carefully inspecting their hands, Werchest found nothing.
And at last, the final crewmen remained. A slender man with ginger hair and wide rimmed glasses.
"Hmm?" Werchest's eyes shot up as he held the man's hands, "Your gloves are wet. Would you open your hands for me?" He asked, alarmed.
The man clenched his hand tightly and remained silent.
"Open your hands at once!" Werchest commanded.
Gritting his teeth, he obliged.
The man unfurled his hands to reveal a dark rust-brown stain that coated the insides of both his palms.
A collective gasp rippled through the coach.
"Bingo!" Casper said with a playful grin, "Passenger attendant, Eddie Hawthorne. You are the killer." He declared, snapping his fingers.
Instantly, his co-workers turned on him, scorning him greatly.
"Eddie, how could you?!" One asked, puzzled at his behaviour.
"Don't you know the five rules of being an attendant?"
"I knew there was something wrong with you when you joined this train." Another said
The older policeman sighed, "On behalf of the Great Northern Railway transport, I humbly apologise for the misunderstanding, Mr. Crol."
"You're wrong! I didn't kill anyone!" The man pleaded suddenly.
"This blood is… it's… from when I got hurt!" He explained, bringing up his hands for all to see.
"What do you mean?" Casper asked, tilting his head.
The man removed his gloves, unveiling his injured hands where two deep, straight lines ran from his palm to his wrist.
"See!" He said with a smirk.
"What the.." Werchest muttered, shocked at the unexpected development.
Casper's playful grin faded.
"Earlier, whilst I was working. I cut myself through the gloves." He explained slowly, his smirk widening before he masked it in faux innocence.
"You must believe me! It's the truth." He pleaded once again.
"Uhm…" Casper's voice suddenly faded, offering up no rebuttal.
Even he understood, he had no leg to stand upon now.
Damn this world's forensic technology!
"You said that you hurt yourself through the gloves, right?" Klein spoke up suddenly.
"Y—yes." The man replied hesitantly.
"Hmm? Then tell me, why is there no tears in your gloves. Even better, explain why the cut on your hand is clean… to clean in fact.
Klein walked up to the man, and started his reasoning.
"Normally, when a person cuts themselves they unconsciously lean in them yank their hand, thus the wound would be more deep, short and also more jagged.
"Yours on the other hand is clean and long." Klein finished with a smile, "And if there's any doubts, I still have a lot more things to say but I don't want to waste my breath."
Eddie's face was still….. before it twisted into pure rage, his mask of innocence shattered completely as he lunged forward at startling speeds.
"You smug little–" he screamed, pulling out a small butter knife from his pocket.
The blade flashed toward Klein's throat.
Casper's eyes widened as he threw himself at Eddie, his fists raised….. but he was still too slow.
Though Klein was faster.
He stepped inside the arc of the thrust, his left hand snapping up to trap Hawthorne's wrist while his right palm struck the attendant squarely under the chin.
The blow lifted Hawthorne onto his toes. Klein twisted the trapped arm in a sharp circle, using the man's own momentum to spin him off balance.
Before Hawthorne could even gasp, Klein was on him again.
His knee pinned his chest to the ground.
Casper slowed to a halt, ".... Impressive." He muttered in admiration.
The older policeman retrieved the knife gingerly, wrapping it in a handkerchief. "Attempted murder of a witness in front of two officers of the law. That'll add a few years to your sentence, Hawthorne."
"I think I won the contest." Casper spoke up.
Klein looked at him in disbelief, "You?! If it weren't for me you'd have to let him go."
"I took it till the goalpost, you just scored." He argued.
Klein pinched his glabella in disappintment, "And? How does that matter."
"I won contribution wise." Casper reasoned with a pout.
"Yeah well, no one remembers the assist, Casper. Everyone remembers the person who scored." Klein said, heading towards their compartment.
And so they bickered until Wiena and then Babur and finally…. Backlund, where they argued until they got off the platform.
…
As they viewed the train leaving for Pritz Harbour, Klein couldn't help but ask.
"Won't they find out we're fraud detectives?"
Casper froze.
For a long moment he simply stared after the fading visage of the train.
Casper exhaled a short, humourless laugh and rubbed the back of his neck. "They won't find out. They'll first have to reach the last station — Pritz Harbour, hand the culprit over to the railway transport authority, explain the whole messy situation… and maybe, just maybe, they'll feel grateful enough to send a polite note of thanks to the 'detectives who solved the case' care of the Tingen Constabulary."
He chuckled softly before adding.
"Then, after a few long days—perhaps a week, buried under paperwork and telegrams and Christmas post delays—Tingen will finally wire back: "No record of a Detective Inspector James Holmes or Consultant Sherlock Moriarty in our force." By then it'll be far too late. We'll have vanished into the fog of Backlund like proper ghosts."
Casper shrugged, his hands spread out.
"And honestly? They won't pursue us much. We saved their asses, didn't we? Exposed a murderer in their own ranks, cleared an innocent passenger, and kept the whole scandal from exploding across the front pages. The Great Northern would rather forget the entire affair than chase down two helpful nobodies who did their dirty work for them."
He tipped his hat slightly, his eyes beaming with mischief.
"Trust me, Klein. By the time anyone thinks to look twice, they'll think we're long gone — sipping brandy in some quiet club, waiting for the next adventure to find us."
Klein stayed in stunned silence for a moment before nodding in agreement, "I see."
"Hmm," Casper acknowledged.
They then moved towards the street, hoping to board a carriage.
Casper then thoughtfully added, "We can't use those identities again, so your new identity in Backlund has got to be something different."
"I'm already thinking of one," Klein replied, dragging his suitcase.
"You should visit my home sometime, I'm fostering a few gremlins there. They're quite fun."
The two idiots continued conversing, unaware of the young boy gazing at them.
A silver-haired boy — no more than 8 or 9 leaned against a street lamp. His round, chubby face was streaked with melted strawberry ice-cream, pink rivulets tracing down his chin as he licked the last of the cone with contentment.
His eyes — oddly sharp for such a childish face followed the duo until they boarded a carriage.
Only then did he wipe his mouth with the back of his hand and smiled a little smile before muttering ominously, "Interesting…."
___
A/N - Took a lil vacation, so drop em powerstones rahh. We lagging behind like crazy. Anyways, I'll drop 2 chapters tomorrow... maybe 3.