"Those are Ood!" the Doctor said.
"Odd? Well… yes, I suppose," Mr. Rudd said, replacing the bell on the table.
"No, you don't understand, this is 1962, and you have an alien waitstaff," the Doctor tried, a look of incredulity on his face.
"Oh, the poor man isn't from our little village. He's never seen anything so alien before," Mrs. Bantry said. "Don't worry Mr. Rudd, you see to your wife. I'll straighten this out with the Doctor." She grabbed him by the arm and led him away. "Come along and bring your young lady-friend. I'll explain everything."
The Doctor followed along limply as she led him down the staircase. "She's not my… This is impossible…" he said. "Pandora?"
Pandora hurried to follow along.
Mrs. Bantry stopped just down the stairs and out of earshot and turned to face them. "Since you aren't from around here, you wouldn't have heard, but some thirty years ago a ship like no other crashed on our little island. You called them aliens, Doctor, but I suspect they aren't simply foreign to us, but from another world entirely." She pointed upward to emphasize her point. "This was back when my husband and I lived in the manor. The pilot of this ship was in a bad way and his crew were dead. We'd never seen anything like them before, but we summoned Dr. Marple to see if he could help.
"When he arrived, the alien pilot was still alive. He kept trying to say something to us, but of course no one could understand him. The doctor couldn't make heads or tails of his circulatory system, and he didn't know if any of the pain-killers that he had might just do the poor beast in, but needle and thread had to be the same whatever planet you come from, so he got to sewing. For all the good it did in the end.
"While he set to his grizzly work, the Colonel and I searched the ship for more survivors. We came upon a locked door, but we heard movement behind it. We couldn't open it ourselves, so we called upon St. John Ambulance, and then the whole village knew about it. Soon all the strongest young men from the village were taking a turn at the door and finally we got it open.
"We discovered the creatures you just saw. They were strapped into benches, which must have protected them during the crash. And they were holding their brains in their hands. Some of the younger women who hadn't yet seen what war could be like, fainted dead away. A clever cobbler named Smith came up with those protective globes so that their brains wouldn't be injured and so that no one would have to see them.
"Well, they followed us around, and they didn't seem to know how the ship worked, but they were eager to help. The Colonel would tell them to fetch something and they'd run to do it. We didn't know what else to do, so we put them to work. We knew what the government would do to them though, so the village agreed that we had to hide them. We buried their ship and dressed them up. They don't speak, but they seem to understand English alright. We couldn't tell them apart, so the Colonel had me sew Greek letters onto each of them. They've learned to respond to this like a name. There's Alpha, Beta, Gamma, Delta and Epsilon." She paused for a while, seeming to go over it in her mind, in case there was anything else she forgot. "Yes. When my husband died and I decided to sell the manor, it was a condition of the sale that whoever bought it would have to keep them on. Mr. and especially Mrs. Rudd took to them immediately, and I knew they would be cared for."
She breathed deeply and clasped her hands. "That's it. Now you know everything about our unique waitstaff. Now that you are in on our island's big secret, we shall have to ask that you swear to keep it. If the word were to get out, I feel certain someone would get it in their mind to save us from them."
"Oh, you can count on us, Mrs. Bantry," the Doctor said with a great big smile. "Pandora could keep secrets professionally, and I don't do a lot of talking. Tell me, have you ever noticed any redness around the waitstaff's eyes, Mrs. Bantry?"
"Redness? No, I can't say that I have. Why, is it important?"
"Never mind, forget I mentioned it. You'd have remembered if you'd seen it, I'm sure."
They returned to join the others up on the landing. One long roll of thunder was accompanied by several flashes of lightning that felt close by. Someone had thought to cover Mrs. Badcock's body with a blanket.
The Ood were all still just standing in a row, holding their orbs in one hand. Pandora could now see the Greek letter patch on the breast pocket of each one. So far as she could see, this was the only difference between them. The Doctor walked straight up to question them. "Now, which one of you made the lady's drink?"
The Ood in the center inclined his head slightly. The Doctor stepped over in front of him.
"Gamma, what did you put in her drink?" the Doctor asked. The Ood inclined his head again, but was otherwise silent.
"Maybe yes or no questions would work better," Pandora suggested.
"Ssh, Pandora," the Doctor said over his shoulder. "Rum, citrus and syrup over crushed ice. So you were making daiquiris. Oh, I love a good daiquiri!"
"Yes, that's right," Marina said, stunned. "But how did you-?"
The Doctor ignored her unfinished question, instead addressing the Ood again. "Does the lady often ask you to make daiquiris for her?"
"Are you suggesting that —" Mr. Rudd started indignantly.
"Ssh," the Doctor repeated, and Mr. Rudd found himself quieting. "I'm trying to establish his familiarity with the drink. Perhaps he accidentally added the wrong ingredient, but no. It seems it's been her favorite lately." He went silent, just looking at Gamma and nodding occasionally.
The Doctor chuckled and turned to Pandora. "He does like to talk, doesn't he. Enjoys the sound of his own thoughts, you might say."
"Doctor, a woman is dead here," Pandora reminded him in an urgent whisper.
"Yes. Of course," the Doctor said, forcing a serious expression. "Gamma is certain that he made your drink just as normal, Mrs. Rudd. But that doesn't mean that the bottles weren't tampered with."
"Doctor, how are you sure he's not lying?" Pandora asked.
"An Ood, lie? If you'd spent any time around them, you'd know how laughable that is. The Ood are beyond reproach. Though they are easily susceptible to mental control, you can always tell by the red eyes." He raised his voice. "Everyone put down your drinks. One of these bottles may have been poisoned."
One of the men spit a mouthful of his drink back into his glass and set it down. A few simply let go of their glasses, letting them fall to the floor and shatter. The rest started placing their drinks on tables. The Ood instinctively left their places in line to clean up.
The Doctor let them go about their business and walked to the serving table. He pulled the glass stopper off of each decanter in turn and sniffed at the contents. He seemed uncertain of one or two and tasted them as well. In the end he dismissed them all. He turned and found Pandora there. "The serving containers are clean, but don't tell anyone. I want them all alert for anything they may see or hear. Someone here is a murderer, and if Marina was the intended target, they will no doubt try again."
"If the poison was in the drink, but it's not here, then how…?" Pandora asked.
"Either the drink was poisoned after it was mixed, or the glass itself was poisoned first. I think that the glass itself is an unlikely target though. If the poisoner intended to kill Ms. Gregg, there would be no way to be certain she'd have drunk from that particular glass until after her drink was in it. We should separate everyone who had access to her glass and interview them individually." He leaned in closer, watching over Pandora's shoulder as Mr. Rudd administered to his wife. "You are a fan of Ms. Gregg, Pandora, are you not?"
"Not as much as Lola Brewster, but, yeah."
"Tell me, what do you know about her husband?"
Pandora started to look behind her, but stopped herself half-way there. She turned back to the Doctor and spoke quietly. "Well, I can tell you he's number five. He's a producer or a director or something, but I've never paid much attention to that."
"That's quite a lot of marriages. And she was married to one of Lola Brewster's husbands as well?" the Doctor asked.
"Yes… Her third husband, I think. He was an actor too, Robert Truscott. He did a lot of westerns. But like I said, I'm not super caught up on her private life," Pandora said.
"That's alright. I was more interested in this one anyway. Jason Rudd. Is it possible that he administered the poison? Killing someone in front of a crowd like this is very risky, and also rather dramatic, if you catch my meaning."
"Look, Doctor, I may not know much about him historically, but I've been watching him here today, and he seems to genuinely care for her. I'd even go so far as to say he's in love. The way he looks at her when no one else is paying attention to him…"
The Doctor nodded. "That's as good as sworn testimony in my book. Still, I'd like to get him alone and find out what he saw."
He stepped out into the middle of the room, and began surveying his surroundings. He was standing right where Marina had been originally. He mentally placed Mr Rudd just off to the right, and Ms. Zielinsky just behind him. He imagined Mr. Preston bringing the greeting line of people up the stairs. He looked out past them to see two tall thin windows framing a painting, possibly a Rafael, of the Madonna and child. She was holding him up in the air and the two were smiling happily, their halos just touching. The imaginary line of people approached him, mingled for a bit, then moved off to the left and behind.
The Doctor, having completed his mental model, looked up at the real people standing around him. "Ladies and gentlemen, I have ruled out any chance of accidental poisoning, or inadvertent overdose. I need you to separate into small groups of three to four."
The Doctor looked to the Ood. "Alpha, would you please take the mayor and the vicar to a comfortable room nearby. You, the reporter. Sorry, I didn't catch your name. Would you go with Beta and Mr. Fenn to another. Gamma, please escort Mrs. Brady, Mrs. Rudd and Ms. Zielinsky to a third. Delta, I'll need you to go with Mr Rudd, Mr. McNeil and Mr. Preston to another. Epsilon, please take Ms. Brewster, Mrs. Bantry, the mayor's wife and Mr. Badcock to yet another."
"I'd like to stay with my wife until the ambulance arrives, if that's alright, Doctor," Mr. Badcock said numbly.
"Yes, of course. How insensitive of me. Oh, and the photographers. Pick a group to go with."
"And just who put you in charge?" asked the mayor.
"Mr. Mayor, I am an investigator of some skill, capability and experience." He pulled out his psychic paper and showed it to the man. "I am a Doctor of Criminology, and have consulted with the constabulary on many occasions. Ever heard of the Hangman of Bastanchury Road?" he asked.
"No," the mayor began.
"That's because I solved the case before it hit the papers. Now, I will come around to collect your stories of what you saw here this afternoon. Before the evening is out, we will discover this murderer!"
The lights dimmed momentarily as the windows blazed with a hot white light, and thunder cracked deafeningly outside.
The Doctor wanted to check the alcohol decanters in the downstairs sitting room while the other party guests were taken to the various rooms and given time to settle. When they passed the double doors at the front of the house, the Doctor pulled out his sonic and locked them securely before proceeding to the sitting room.
"Doctor," Pandora said while he was sniffing at one of the stoppers, "Have you ruled out Mr. Badcock already? It seems suspicious to me that he didn't want to be up there with his wife."
"Yes, I must admit that that is odd, but it also removes him from suspicion. Even if he had motive, he had no opportunity. Consider his options." The Doctor paused to sniff another decanter. "She didn't have a glass when she left here. In fact the glass she had is sitting over there still, on the fireplace mantle," he said, pointing. "It's possible that he could have paid someone up there to poison his wife while he stayed down here with his alibi, but that's not what happened. The killer poisoned Marina Gregg's drink. What happened then? Did the killer cause Mrs. Badcock to spill her drink and then trust that Marina would give her own drink to the victim? Without ever sipping from it herself? No it makes no sense. It's more likely that Marina was the intended victim, and Mr. Badcock would have no motive there. We should let the man grieve in solitude." He set the last stopper back in its decanter. "No, it was a long shot, but nothing here is poisoned either. Let's go interview the first group."
"Yeah, about that. Why those small groups? Why not individuals?" Pandora asked.
"You ever hear that logic problem where you have to weigh nine metal cubes to figure out which one is different?" the Doctor asked as he started walking.
"Sure, you weigh them in groups, and once you know the group with the odd weight, it's quicker to find the individual cube," she replied.
"Exactly. We've got a murderer, a potential victim, and statistically speaking at least one witness who saw something useful. I want to see how their behavior changes as I mix up the groups."
"I don't get it. In the logic problem you don't mix up the groups," Pandora said.
"Yes, well, our problem is a bit more complicated. We've got one cube that weighs too much, another cube that weighs too little, and a bunch of cubes that may or may not be magnetic. The point is, observing their behavior in small groups will tell us something important about the individuals in those groups. I'm going to talk to each of them individually, but while I am, I want you to play your people-watching game on the other ones. Let me know if anything sticks out or strikes you as strange."
"Okay, I get it," Pandora said as they arrived at the first room. The Doctor opened the door and the two of them stepped inside. Pandora closed the door behind them.
The mayor, the vicar and the female photographer were in the room along with the Ood, Alpha. The Doctor rubbed his hands together, looking around at the room. There had been an animated conversation going when they opened up the door, but now everyone was looking at the Doctor with nervous anticipation.
"Let's start off with names. I'm the Doctor, this is Pandora. You all know Alpha… apparently. And you are?" he asked the Mayor.
"Julian Bledsoe," the mayor said, sticking out his hand and grinning, probably by reflex. The Doctor took the proffered hand and shook it. "Out of curiosity, if you didn't know my name, how did you know I was mayor?"
"The look of a politician is universal," the Doctor said and turned to the vicar.
"John Steele. I've been vicar in St. Mary's since before the war. I knew Mrs. Badcock well, and it's my great shame that I didn't think to perform resuscitation myself. It may have made the difference." The vicar kept his thin hands clutched in front of him.
"Don't beat yourself up about it. Shock affects us all, and her death could only have been prevented by the timely arrival of the ambulance." The Doctor turned to the photographer.
She had a business card at the ready, having pulled it from a pouch at her side during the other two introductions. She handed it to the Doctor. "Margot Bence, Lifemode Studios."
"Excellent, lovely," the Doctor said, giving the card a quick glance and sticking it into his hoodie pocket. "I think I'll speak to the mayor first. Mr. Bledsoe, if you could come over here please, and if the rest of you could give us a bit of privacy, thank you."
The mayor, Pandora and the Doctor stepped over into one corner of the large room, while the photographer and the vicar moved into the one opposite. Alpha stood alongside one wall, at attention, with his orb in one gloved hand the entire time.
"Mr. Bledsoe, if you could just go over the events of this afternoon as you saw them, please," the Doctor said.
"Well, when my wife and I arrived, the Greeks were busy pulling all the food in from outside. You see, the weather had just started to turn, but it was obvious it was going to get much worse. We were led into the sitting room and got to meet some of the Americans. Movie stars and producers and the like, you know. I was quite comfortable in such company, but my wife loves the pictures, particularly the romantic ones. She's quite a fan of Lola Brewster and Marina Gregg both. She knew we were going to meet Ms. Gregg, but we were suddenly in the company of Ms. Brewster, and I'm afraid she was a little star-struck," the Mayor said.
"Yes, and closer to the time of the actual murder?" the Doctor said with more politeness than impatience. Pandora was listening to their conversation, but she was watching the vicar and the photographer across the room.
"But that's just it, you see? I didn't realize that a murder had taken place until you announced it. When we were called, we ascended the staircase and Ms. Gregg greeted us very graciously. She knew who we were, which was nice. She and her husband offered us a drink, and we talked for a while. The vicar came up next and there were a few people already there, so we got out of the way and joined them. Mr. Rudd and Ms. Gregg spoke to the vicar for a while, then he came over to join us while they greeted the next people. I didn't pay them any notice really until Mrs. Badcock spilled her drink. She made a fuss about cleaning it up, and how she'd managed to ruin her dress as well. Ms. Gregg said nonsense, and that the staff would take care of it and daiquiris don't stain, and then she insisted that Mrs. Badcock take her drink. She had the same sort, and she hadn't yet touched it. The Greek that was there, I don't remember which one it was, mopped up the spot with some towels and then left. We went back to talking and I'm afraid the next thing I noticed was when Mrs. Badcock slumped out of her chair. My wife screamed, and you came running. That was it."
"Did Mrs. Badcock seem like she wasn't feeling well?" the Doctor asked.
"I really wasn't paying attention. I suppose at some point someone pulled out a chair for her, so she must not have been entirely well, but I'm afraid I didn't see."
"Did you know Mrs. Badcock before this afternoon?"
"I'd seen her around," the mayor shrugged. "Mrs. Badcock was the sort you didn't see much until she started complaining about the pipes or something. She never noticed when you got something done, she'd only notice what you haven't done yet, or didn't get right."
The Doctor nodded his understanding. "Mr. Bledsoe, being responsible for the town's well being and listening to the complaints of all the Badcocks out there must be very stressful. Do you ever take anything for the anxiety?"
"Well, I have the occasional drink, like any other red-blooded Englishman, but never to excess, if that's what you're implying. The truth is the job isn't all stressful. I enjoy solving the problems of day-to-day life."
"I see," the Doctor said. "Thank you Mr. Bledsoe. You've been most helpful. I may have some follow-up questions after talking to the others, but we're done for now. Could you send the vicar this way? Thank you."
The mayor walked across to where the vicar and the photographer were still speaking. Pandora leaned in toward the Doctor. "What was that about his drinking?"
"Nothing. I don't care about his drinking habits. I was trying to determine whether he has a prescription for hyetheldexylbarboquindelorytate. Whoever killed Mrs. Badcock had access to the drug, and I don't think you can just pick it up at the local chemist. Did you notice anything peculiar about the other two?"
"Well, I can tell you that the photographer isn't a local. She and the vicar didn't know each other," Pandora informed him.
"No," the Doctor confirmed. He pulled out the business card briefly and showed it to Pandora. "The address for her studio is in London."
Just then, the vicar approached.
"Thank you for your time, Mr. Steele," the Doctor said. "Could you please tell me, from your perspective, what happened up on the landing around the time of the murder?"
"Are you quite sure it was murder, Doctor? I can't imagine anyone had it out for poor Mrs. Badcock," the vicar said.
"It can be no doubt that it was murder, but it does appear that Mrs. Badcock was not the intended target. Ms. Gregg was. But the question, please, vicar, what did you see?"
The vicar looked troubled. "I climbed the stairs, Ms. Gregg and her husband greeted me, very graciously. They offered me a drink, but I declined. I didn't really have much to say. I don't go to movies much, I don't even have a telly. I'm just here to support St John Ambulance. Heather - Mrs. Badcock was next, so I made room and joined the mayor and his wife, while she spoke to Ms. Gregg. I didn't see her spill her drink, but I heard her apologizing for it, and then Ms. Gregg insisted that she take her own drink, while the Greek cleaned it up."
"I'm sorry, the Greek?" the Doctor asked.
"Yes, the um," the vicar said. He looked over his shoulder at the Ood, then turned his back to him and wiggled his fingers in front of his mouth to pantomime the oral tentacles. "Waitstaff," he finished. "We call them Greeks on account of the letters they wear. I didn't see which one it was."
"Alright. And what about when Mrs. Badcock collapsed?"
"Ms. Gregg and her husband had moved on to speak with Cherry Brady by then. It looked like Heather was having a sort of dizzy spell. Mr. Rudd's assistant brought her to a chair and helped her sit. Soon after that, she just sort of spilled out of it, and lay motionless. As I said before, I wish I would have done something, but I just stood there. I heard someone scream, but it was far away. I could only see her eyes. Nothing else seemed real. The next thing I knew, you were running past, and it was like the world started moving again."
The Doctor just nodded. "Reverend, you've performed your share of funeral services, you've spent time with the dead and with the grieving. People come to you with their troubles and their sins. Do you know of anybody who was taking something for depression or anxiety? Do you, yourself, ever take anything to help cope with other peoples pain?"
The vicar straightened up to his full height. "No sir, I do not. The Lord is my strength. And I know of no one reliant on chemical substitutes for His grace."
"I'm sorry, reverend, you understand I had to ask. If you would be so good as to send Ms. Bence my way? Thank you."
The vicar turned and left, and the Doctor leaned toward Pandora. "Anything?"
"No. Nothing. It's hard to pick a story for the Mayor. He seems to change it quite often."
The Doctor smiled. "Like I said. The look of a politician is universal."
Margot Bence joined them. She was a woman with raven hair in a pixie cut with a short felt jacket and short skirt who had the strap of a camera over one shoulder and the strap of a small leather pouch around the other.
"Ms. Bence. Someone who sees things professionally, and shares the things she sees. Tell me, what did you see?" the Doctor asked.
Ms. Bence wore a bored expression. "A lot of the usual. A couple rich fools showing off their opulence and condescending to the common man. I didn't get any photographs of the murder taking place, if that's what you were hoping for."
"Hope springs eternal. Still, perhaps you saw something, even without your camera up, that may turn out relevant, if you'll indulge me," the Doctor prompted.
"Marina Gregg was at the top of the stairs with her next ex-husband. She needed three photographers where one would normally do, because she wants to pick through the photographs for just the right one. Then a stream of worshippers ascended the stairs to stroke her ego. One of them, an older woman, spilled her drink and received another, but she was out of shot when she fell. I knew something was going on, because someone screamed, but I didn't know what it was until you rushed past and yelled for an ambulance." She shrugged.
"You don't have any particular love for Ms. Gregg, do you?" the Doctor prompted.
"In my line of work, you see a lot of celebrities. You learn quickly to see past the glamour, and at that point, an ugliness can be exposed, and from what have seen, Marina Gregg is uglier than most."
"Some would say that her charity work is proof that she's a good person," the Doctor argued.
Margot scoffed. "Tell that to her adopted children."
"I wasn't aware that she had children," the Doctor said. He looked sidelong at Pandora for some confirmation, but she shrugged.
"She adopted three children, took them away from families that were more fruitful than they were well off, because she believed she couldn't have kids of her own and she desperately wanted to be a mother. But she soon tired of them, and when she later became pregnant, she sent them away," Margot told them. Then she added, "At least that's how the story goes."
"Ms. Bence, you aren't local, and you have no connection to St. John Ambulance. If you dislike her so much, why did you accept the job here?" the Doctor asked.
"The job came through Mr. Rudd's assistant, this Zielinsky woman. I've made a name for myself because I find interesting angles to shoot, and I have an eye for just the right timing, just when that eyebrow crooks, or the moment the smile parts to show teeth. She insisted, and before I knew that Mr. Rudd was married to Ms. Gregg, I'd signed the contract."
"I see. Ms. Bence, let me be frank. The fashion industry is known for rampant drug use, and as this death is drug related, I must ask. Do you ever take Calmo?"
"Doctor, I will be equally frank. I've taken a lot of things in my time, many of them banned substances, but all of them have been uppers. I've never had any need for a downer like Calmo, and I certainly didn't bring anything of the sort here."
"Thank you Ms. Bence. That'll do for now." Margot began to walk away, and the Doctor raised his voice to speak to the room in general. "Please remain in this room. Send Alpha out for me if you require anything. Remember that there is a murderer out there, so wandering about isn't safe. Pandora, with me please."
He stepped out of the door and held it for her, closing it behind her. Out in the hallway again, the sounds of the storm raged loudly outside. Rain pelted the windows while the wind howled vocally. The occasional flash of light was followed nearly immediately by a loud crack of thunder. "You knew nothing about Marina's children?" the Doctor asked Pandora.
"I'm sorry Doctor, I just didn't follow her private-life. I remember, vaguely, that she had some sort of tragedy and backed out of a film. She didn't work for several years afterward. That's really all I know," Pandora said.
"Hmm. Perhaps it's time we speak with someone who has been following her private-life. The reporter," the Doctor said.
Pandora caught him before he got to the door. "Doctor, you know that Ms. Bence was lying about her reasons for taking the job, right?"
The Doctor studied Pandora with a thoughtful expression, then turned without a word and opened the next door, and the two of them stepped inside. The reporter was there conducting an interview with Ardwyck Fenn, and another one of the photographers looked on, while the Ood, Beta was standing with his back to the wall, nearby.
"Gentlemen, I'm afraid I must interrupt your interview to conduct one of my own. If you would step over here — I'm sorry, I still don't know your name…"
The reporter flipped his notebook and approached them, hand outstretched. "Dunn, sir. Silas Dunn with the Herald," he said. He shook hands, first with the Doctor, then with Pandora. "How about a little tit-for-tat? I'll answer your questions about the murder, and you answer my questions about the man who's going to solve it. Eh?"
"I'm afraid that's going to have to wait. If Ms. Gregg was truly the target, the murderer will likely try to finish the job, so time is of the essence. Now, briefly tell me what you saw this afternoon at the top of the landing."
"Well, I was one of the first to be called up. They greeted me and offered me a drink. I informed them that I was on duty. You see, the Herald made a substantial donation to St. John Ambulance to get me this invitation. The two of them agreed to grant me an interview after the fête, and so I stood aside and took notes on who else attended." He flipped his notebook open again, and went back several pages. "First it was the mayor and his wife, then the vicar. Shortly thereafter, Ardwyck Fenn," he indicated the other man in the room with the eraser end of his pencil, "joined them at the top of the stairs, but he mainly talked to Mr. Preston and Ms. Zielinsky. Then it was Mrs. Badcock, the victim, and Mrs. Brady and Mr. McNeil. Now, Ms. Gregg had finished talking to Mrs. Badcock and had moved on to Mr. McNeil when Mrs. Badcock's elbow was jostled and she spilled her drink."
"Wait, her elbow was jostled? By whom?" the Doctor asked.
The reporter found the line in his notebook where he'd written it down. "Yes, definitely jostled. I didn't write down who did it, but there was a lot of milling about. Who could say who did it?"
"Okay, go on."
He found his place in his notes again and continued. "Mrs. Gregg says, 'Don't worry about it at all. Daiquiris don't stain. We'll have it cleaned up in a moment, Delta please? Now here. Take my drink. I had a daiquiri as well, but I haven't touched it yet.' The Greek patted down her dress, then the floor and left with the soaked towel. The couple of the hour greeted Mrs. Cherry Brady. Ms. Zielinsky got a chair out for Mrs. Badcock and she sat with her drink. No more than two minutes later, she fell out of the chair. She looked dead to me. Then the mayor's wife screamed." Mr. Dunn closed his notebook. "And that's when you come in."
"Did you notice whether Mrs. Badcock was feeling unwell before they got her a seat?"
"Sorry sir, I remember it like I wrote it. I was mostly watching Mrs. Gregg and who she was talking to at the time. The locals like it when their name gets in the article. I mentioned the bit with the Greek, but I didn't much notice Mrs. Badcock, they were already done with her."
"I see. Now, on a different subject, you've followed Ms. Gregg's life and career for some time, correct?" the Doctor asked.
"Yes sir, I like to ask a few questions that'll get the readers talking, so I've got to know a bit about the celebrities," the reporter said with some pride.
"What can you tell me about her children then?"
"Oh, that's a sad subject indeed, sir. She went through three husbands, always wanting children. First there was an estate agent, name of Alfred Beadle. She made it big shortly into their marriage and suddenly he wasn't enough for her. Then she married a foreign Prince from one of those tiny European countries. That didn't last very long either, and she married another actor, Robert Truscott. When she realized they couldn't have children either, she adopted three underprivileged children; two boys and a girl. When her marriage to Truscott fell apart, she latched on to the children for a time, but she found love again with the playwright, Isidore Wright, and at last she was pregnant. But the baby came out wrong. Too early by a few months, it was an imbecile and deaf or something. Had to be kept in a hospital. After that she had this breakdown, and started in on drugs. She got fired from set and lost a few roles. Didn't work at all for, well, must be a decade." He shrugged. "Sad, really."
"And what happened to her adopted children?" the Doctor pressed.
"Well, she sent them off to schools, didn't she? One went off to Australia, another came here to England, the other stayed in the States. She put money in accounts for them through childhood. At some point they changed their names to keep reporters away. But all that was twenty years ago or more, and no one really knows what happened after that."
"Alright. That's it for now," the Doctor said.
"You won't forget about our little interview, now, will you?" Mr. Dunn asked with a sly shake of his finger.
"Top of my priority list, right behind this little murder thing," the Doctor said.
Mr. Fenn swapped spots with the reporter then.
"Mr. Fenn, why did you need to attend to Ms. Gregg right when you did?" the Doctor began.
Mr. Fenn coughed apologetically. "I didn't need to, I must confess. I was just trying to get away from that insufferable boor of a woman. I know it's horrible to speak ill of the dead, but that's how I felt at the time."
"I see. You must have been very disappointed to see her again so soon, up on the landing. What did you see when she came up?" the Doctor asked.
"Well, as you can imagine, I did my best to avoid her, so I had my back to her most of the time. I remember that she didn't know what to ask for when she was offered a drink, and Ms. Gregg suggested a daiquiri. Then she was telling that same dull story of having met Ms. Gregg before. As if she would possibly remember. She probably met a hundred fans that day, and that day was just one of hundreds like it. I looked around again when I heard the glass hit the rug. Of course it had to be that woman, and Ms. Gregg was an absolute angel about it. She gave up her own drink, and didn't show how put out she was at all."
Mr. Fenn sighed deeply and knitted his eyebrows in concern. "Of course, you know how it ended up, but this is what I was thinking at the time. You must understand, I had no idea what was really happening. Mrs. Badcock sipped at her drink and said it was lovely. Ms. Gregg went on to greet another gentleman, but I saw that Mrs. Badcock was looking a little dizzy. I remembered that she had been drinking water downstairs, had made a point of it, actually, and I assumed she just wasn't used to the alcohol. I pointed her out to Ella Zielinsky because I was afraid of getting stuck talking to her again, and Ella rushed over to get her a chair to sit on. Ella had only just gotten back to me when Mrs. Badcock rolled out of the chair and onto the floor."
The Doctor nodded. His eyes darted back and forth as he fit this new information in with what he already knew. "Mr. Fenn, do you take the medication Calmo?"
"I do. Or, well, I have. You'd be hard-pressed to find an actor in Hollywood that doesn't have a prescription," Mr. Fenn admitted.
"Did you bring some with you today?" the Doctor asked, excitement in his eyes.
"No, I didn't, but don't you see? I wouldn't need to. I'm certain that every medicine cabinet in this manor has some Calmo in it. Both Ms. Gregg and her husband take it. It's as common as aspirin where we're from."
The Doctor took an involuntary step backward as he processed this. "Then, anyone in the house could have gained access to it."
"I'm afraid so," Mr. Fenn said with a shrug.
The Doctor walked toward the door as if in a daze. Pandora followed him out and before closing the door, stuck her head back in. "You should stay in here. Send your Greek for anything you need. Remember that there's a murderer out here somewhere and you're safer together." Then she closed the door and turned to the Doctor.
"Are you alright, Doctor?" she asked.
"I don't know," he said. "I was certain that once we discovered the source of the poison, it would be obvious who the killer is. Even if you discount the people who wouldn't know they kept it — and you can't because, who doesn't look through the medicine cabinet when you use somebody's bathroom? But even if you did, that still leaves half a dozen suspects." He paced for a while, then stopped and looked Pandora in the eye. "We'd better talk to Ms. Gregg and Ms. Zielinsky."
The Doctor opened up the door to their room and let Pandora enter first. The Ood, Gamma, was standing on his own against the wall, as usual. Mrs. Brady was sitting on her own, crocheting, while Ms. Gregg and Ms. Zielinsky were speaking quietly over a table on the far side of the room.
"Mrs. Brady, Cherry, isn't it?" the Doctor asked.
"Yes, Doctor, that's right," she said, smiling up at him and folding her crocheting.
"Cherry, did you see anything unusual this afternoon, up on the landing?" the Doctor asked.
"Well, I don't know what unusual is for such occasions. I watch a lot of movies while my husband is at work, and I've imagined being up on screen with them. In far-away places, in times long gone, in a forbidden romance." She smiled and blushed deeply. I've always imagined what it would be like to be famous and to meet my fans. But it wasn't like that at all. I always thought that someone who spent their life acting the big parts would be able to pretend engagement and interest, but I suppose after thousands of fans, it gets to you."
"What do you mean, Mrs. Brady?" the Doctor asked.
"Well, I waited my turn at the top of the stairs behind Mr. McNeil. I was so excited to be this close to Ms. Gregg that I was sure everyone could hear my heartbeat. But then, while Heather Badcock was speaking, this expression came over Ms. Gregg. To be more accurate, it was more like a lack of expression. She just sort of stared blankly off into the distance, not at Heather. Not really at anyone, I think. It reminded me of something."
"Yes?" the Doctor prompted.
"Well, it made me think of a line from that old Tennyson poem, 'The Lady of Shallot'." She closed her eyes for a moment, then began reciting.
Out flew the web and floated wide-
The mirror crack'd from side to side;
"The doom is come upon me," cried
The Lady of Shalott.
Mrs. Brady looked up at the Doctor. "I know the poem doesn't describe her face, but that's how I always imagined it. That look the Lady wore when she realized her doom was at hand."
"Ah, yes," the Doctor nodded. "Always loved Alfie's poetry. That was from his Camelot collection. I really should never have taken him there. Anyway, after that, did you see anything else?"
"After that, she sort of snapped out of it. She got the Greek to pour a drink for Heather and moved on to Mr. McNeil. Heather just sort of stood around for a bit, not knowing what to do. I do suppose she was rather in the way, but do you know what the odd thing was? I just about think she spilled her drink on purpose."
The Doctor was silent for a while, considering this. "Thank you, Mrs. Brady, that was most helpful."
He took Pandora over to a corner and spoke with her in hushed tones.
"Doctor, didn't the reporter say that she was jostled?" Pandora asked.
"That's just what I was thinking. But it's been established that Mrs. Badcock wasn't used to drinking. And perhaps he didn't actually see her get jostled. Maybe he just saw her arm fly out and he made the assumption."
"I guess that makes sense. Neither one of them seemed like they were lying, or covering something up…"
The Doctor opened his mouth to say something, then turned suddenly and said, "Ms. Zielinsky, would you join us?"
Ms. Zielinsky left the table and walked across the room toward them.
"It's Ella, correct? Ella, what is the nature of your job here?" the Doctor asked.
"I'm Mr. Rudd's personal secretary. I schedule and keep track of his meetings. I approve his agenda and make sure he's prepared. I write any speeches he needs to give, and I run errands for him," she said succinctly.
"Do you fill his prescriptions for him?" the Doctor pursued.
"Yes," she confirmed, a questioning tone to her voice.
"Can you confirm that he has a prescription for Calmo?" the Doctor continued.
"Yes, certainly. He and Mrs. Rudd both do. As does Mr. Fenn, as does Mr. Preston. There's nothing so odd about that." She was definitely on the defensive now.
"You understand that the murder victim was given a giant overdose of this drug, and you see nothing so odd about it?"
Ms. Zielinsky took a step back. "No, what I mean by that is, it wasn't Mr. Rudd. It could have been anyone, but it wasn't him." She was breathing heavily, almost panting for breath.
"You miss my meaning Ms. Zielinsky," the Doctor continued, "You were the last person to come into contact with the victim. You had access to both her and her drink while you were helping her into a chair, and you had access to the drug that killed her."
Ms. Zielinsky's breathing became more and more labored, and she didn't answer the accusation. Instead she held her fists clutched to her chest and croaked, "My atomizer. I need my—"
"Over here," Ms. Gregg called out. "You left it on the table."
Ms. Zielinsky rushed over to the table and pressed her atomizer against her face, breathing deeply several times. She looked back up at the Doctor with a relieved expression. "I didn't kill Mrs. Badcock," she said. She started coughing, and returned her face to the atomizer while she walked back over to them.
"I didn't really think you did, Ella. I just wanted to see for myself how much in love with Mr. Rudd you were," the Doctor said gently.
"She what?" Ms. Gregg cried out, straightening to her full height.
"No!" Ms. Zielinsky said, pulling the atomizer away from her face. She went into another coughing fit. When she pulled her hand away from her face there were specks of blood on it. She began coughing again, blood spraying out with every hacking breath. She collapsed against the Doctor and he lowered her gently to the floor. She went limp, and the atomizer rolled out of her lifeless hand.
The Doctor felt at her neck for a pulse, then put his ear close to her mouth. Finally he stood and pointed his sonic screwdriver at her. "She's dead." He bent and scooped up her atomizer. He wiped the inside of the mouthpiece with a finger, then rubbed it against his thumb. "Powder," he said. He touched his tongue to it and spat. "Calmo. She was murdered, Pandora. Right in front of me, and I couldn't stop it."
Pandora could see a rage on the Doctor's face, barely controlled, and it scared her. "Forget the cubes and the balance, Pandora. I need to see Mr. Rudd, Mr. Preston, Margot Bence and Ms. Gregg right now, out in the hall. Ms. Gregg, with me." The Doctor stormed out of the room, flinging the door open to bounce off the wall. He headed straight for the first room again.
Pandora followed him out, but stopped for the briefest of moments, watching the Doctor huff away with a worried expression on her face, then she turned and headed to the fourth room. She poked her head in. "Mr. Rudd, Mr. Preston, we need you out here." She left the door open and ran back to join the Doctor at the first room. She tried to think of anything to calm him down, but was drawing a blank.
The Doctor stepped inside the first room and looked around. "Ms. Bence, please step outside. Mr. Mayor, reverend, please remain here." He started to swing the door shut again, then noticed something and thew it wide again. "Where's Alpha?"
"We sent him out for you several minutes ago," Ms. Bence said. "I was thinking that if we could find a way to develop my film —"
"Alpha never came for me," the Doctor said dismissively. He went to the second room and opened the door. "Beta, have you seen Alpha?"
The Ood inclined his head slightly. The Doctor left the door open while he went to the third, fourth and fifth rooms. In each he asked the Ood if it had seen Alpha.
"Alright, everybody out!" he yelled over the sound of the raging storm outside. The rest of the party-goers emerged from their rooms, confused. "Ms. Zielinsky has been murdered, and now Alpha is missing! Ms. Gregg, Ms. Bence, you are with Pandora. Mr. Rudd, Mr. Preston, you are with me. The rest of you, form into groups and search the house. We must find Alpha!"
The Doctor pulled Pandora aside. "Watch Margot very closely," he whispered. "If she tries anything at all, be prepared to intervene." Then he ran off and grabbed Mr. Rudd and Mr. Preston by the shoulders, leading them out of the room.
The Doctor and his companions searched each room they came to, starting with a book-lined study, then on to a linen storage room and then the kitchen. They pulled open every cupboard and closet, poked through laundry carts and potato bushels. They searched in ovens, behind curtains and inside the walk-in freezer.
"Doctor," Mr. Rudd finally said. "Do you suppose Alpha wandered off while looking for you, or do you think something has happened to him?"
The Doctor frowned at him. "I'm trying not to think the latter, but it's difficult. I can't come up with a solid reason why Alpha would go off of his own accord."
"I hate to think of the poor Greek out there, defenseless with a murderer around," Mr Rudd continued, rolling up his sleeve and plunging it into a rubbish bin half-full of food scraps.
"I've narrowed down my list of suspects, and I don't think anyone has reason to hurt one of the… Greeks."
"Who do you suspect?" Mr. Rudd asked, shaking potato peels and coffee grounds off of his arm.
There was another loud crash of thunder. The Doctor looked up for a moment, a puzzled look on his face. "That's odd," he said.
A scream came from across the manor. Once again, the Doctor was off and running before anyone could react. The lights flickered as the Doctor ran full-tilt up the stairs. He paused at the landing, but heard no further screams. The rest of his group had time to catch up with him before the Doctor spotted an open door ahead and the shadow of a group of people within the room drawn onto the floor outside. He took off running again.
The Doctor got to the room just as Pandora's group got there from the other direction. He found the Mayor and his wife along with Mr. Fenn and Mrs. Bantry standing in the room in front of an open cupboard. Laying on the floor between them was the prone body of the Ood. The Doctor ran to the body and began examining it. He flipped the body over and saw immediately that the umbilical had been neatly sliced in half. He pulled a jeweler's loupe out of a pocket and looked at the cut very closely.
He turned and walked directly up to Pandora.
"Now, this is very important. Something has come up and we need to solve this murder immediately. Did you at any point suspect that Margot was trying to get Marina alone?"
"No, but…"
"Did you feel as if she was uncomfortable around you, that she wanted to get away, or get you away?"
"No," Pandora responded more definitively.
"What is the meaning of these questions?" Margot asked.
The Doctor ignored her. "And the three of you came running in here together. She had ample opportunity to try something if she wanted too, but she didn't."
"Just what on Earth are you talking about Doctor?" Marina demanded.
"I'm talking about measles, Ms. Gregg, German measles, to be exact." The rest of the groups had gathered there by this time. There were murmurs going through the crowd upon seeing the dead Ood.
The Doctor seemed terribly impatient. "I don't have time for this nonsense. I had narrowed the killer down to one of two people. Margot, who may have wanted to kill Marina, because she is her adoptive mother, and she abandoned her all those years ago, but it was clear Marina had no idea that Margot was her daughter."
Ms. Gregg looked in horror and sudden recognition at Margot. Margot returned her gaze with nothing but contempt. "But since Margot didn't try again to kill Marina at any point, then my original supposition must have been correct," the Doctor continued.
Mr. Rudd spoke up, "And your original supposition was…?"
"That your wife caused Mrs Badcock to spill her drink on purpose so as to hand her her own drink, the one that she herself had poisoned."
The Doctor turned to Mrs. Brady. "You said earlier that you thought 'she spilled her drink on purpose'. Due to the imprecise nature of the English language, I misunderstood at first. I thought you meant that Mrs. Badcock had spilled her own drink on purpose. But what you meant to say was that Ms. Gregg spilled Mrs. Badcock's drink on purpose!"
"Yes," Mrs. Brady confirmed. "That's exactly what it looked like."
"But that's preposterous," Mr. Rudd said. "What possible reason could Marina have had to want to kill a woman she didn't know?"
The Doctor sighed. "Fine. To understand that, we have to go back to the scene of the crime. To the landing at the top of the stairs!"
The Doctor took off running, and the group followed. When they arrived, the Doctor took Mr. Rudd by the shoulders and positioned him just so. "There. Now do you see?"
Mr. Rudd was flummoxed. "I'm afraid I don't know what I'm supposed to be seeing? Cause for murdering a stranger? No, Doctor I don't."
"But they weren't strangers! They had met before! Mrs. Badcock was bragging about it right here," the Doctor said and stood in Mrs. Badcock's spot, "how she had put on a lot of makeup despite the fact that she doesn't usually wear it, got herself out of bed and bravely went to see her idol the great Marina Gregg! What Marina realized while standing right here was that this was also a point in her life of great impact. Mrs. Badcock had had German measles, and she passed it on to your wife that day. But Marina was pregnant, and German measles, in the early stages of pregnancy, causes —"
Marina broke in. "Causes severe birth defects and brain disfunction." She was staring over the staircase at the painting there between the two windows.
The Doctor leaned in close to Mr. Rudd and pointed. And here she was, looking at a portrait of the Laughing Madonna and thinking of her own child. And she was standing face to face with a woman who had only been an idea until then. A mysterious figure that had somehow infected her and caused her child to go from a joyful gift to an unbearable curse. How many times do you think she'd imagined seeking out that figure, finding them somehow and murdering them? It never mattered, because it was fantasy, but suddenly, here and now, it was all real. The figure was before her, a real person, and she wasn't contrite in the least. She was bragging about it, about how sick she was that day. In your wife's mind, she practically said she did it on purpose. Your wife had plenty of Calmo on hand, and no time to think about things and cool down. Your wife killed Mrs. Badcock."
The Doctor stood back and let that sink in. Ms. Gregg was past the point of denying it. She actually seemed a bit relieved to have the truth out.
"But what of Miss Zielinsky?" Mrs. Bantry asked.
"She must have seen Marina put the pills in her own glass, or else purposely bump Mrs. Badcock. It was certain that someone would, given how many people were in the room, and how many eyes would be focused on the famous Marina Gregg. Miss Zielinsky decided unwisely to blackmail Marina, because she secretly loved her boss, Mr. Rudd, and she wanted Ms. Gregg out of the picture. And she ended up dead for her troubles. But none of this is important right now! It's distracting us from the true issue here."
"What could be more important than the issue of three murders?" the vicar called out.
"But that's just it! Surely you have constables, or someone who can take over now that the murderer is discovered. I'm no longer interested in that. The fact is, Marina had no reason to kill Alpha. He was a loyal and attentive servant. Even if he had seen something, he never would have betrayed her."
"What are you saying, Doctor?"
"I'm stating the obvious. We have a second murderer in our midst."
