AKA in which Life is like a Mystery... or something. Thanks again to everyone bothering to read this story. Enjoy!
The most curious thing about Rey's room in the TARDIS was the window. Not the room's existence; despite what she had been led to believe that first adventure, it wasn't always go-go-go twenty-four/seven. Somewhere to rest and recharge was only practical, and it was thoughtful of the TARDIS to provide her with her own place. Though to be honest, the room itself was a pretty curious thing.
For instance, some of the more personal items of the decor she hadn't accumulated yet. She attributed their presence to the fact that they were staying in a time machine. Still, they were clearly her things, and it was clearly her room. She could see herself in every choice, from the sky blue color of the walls to the double-wide bookshelf. The clothes in the dresser were all things she would wear, and while many of the souvenirs she'd gotten—or would eventually pick up—were curious, there was nothing she outright rejected as "not her." Obviously, she had decorated the room some time in her future, and the TARDIS had simply brought it back to her now.
When everything was considered, it all made sense. Thus, Rey was left with the window to occupy her interest. Perfectly circular and with a diameter of two and a half meters, it took up most of the wall to the right of the bed. It was actually set into the wall a bit, and the bottom was padded with pillows so she could sit or lie as she pleased. A light at the top indicated that she probably did so often, likely with a book in hand.
The second she saw it, all Rey could think was yes. This was the perfect window. No other could compare, and her life would be emptier if something ever were to happen to it.
What made it curious wasn't the size, shape, or perfection, but the view. Just that she had a view in and of itself was odd. Since the TARDIS's interior and exterior didn't match, it was difficult to find a wall where the other side was actually outside. She could also move her rooms around, to make things more confusing. Still, Rey was fairly sure that the other side of her bedroom wall wasn't outside. She was even surer that the view she had wasn't the same view from outside the TARDIS.
An ocean waited for her on the other side of the window. Sometimes the water was the most vibrant of blues, sometimes it was sea green, and sometimes it was inky black. Traffic consisted mostly of schools of fish and other aquatic animals, some of which she was almost positive weren't from Earth. A time or two she saw the flicker of a long fin, a humanoid arm, or long, fine hair.
Curious.
The oddity didn't make her like the window any less. In fact, if anything, Rey loved it more for its quirks. Still, as it was prone to do, the curiosity itched. Was it a real ocean, held back only by a thin pane, or was it just a projection? She didn't hear any seaside sounds, smell any salt in the air, or feel like the room was rocking. Maybe it was a metaphor? The TARDIS was technically a spaceship as well as a time machine. So far, she didn't have any urge to break the glass and find out, but she might ask the Doctor about it soon.
Not now. Now, she was preoccupied with brainstorming. The Doctor had told her to pick a person, any person, in all of history. She was back with his previous regeneration this time. Donna was there too, strangely relieved when Rey landed.
"Anyone?"
"Anyone," he confirmed.
That left her with so many options. Cecilia Payne-Gaposchkin, Nikola Tesla, Rosalind Franklin, Vincent van Gogh. Her head spun with possibilities.
Rey thought back to her personal "library" back in the hospital. Truthfully, it was little more than a small handful of books and a few clippings shoved in the bottom drawer of her little bedside table. She had a feeling that her doctor knew she was squirreling materials away but thought they were harmless enough that he let her keep them. Her stash had been found and confiscated a number of times in the past, but she always tried again.
It probably said something about futility and stubbornness.
Rey walked around the TARDIS console, letting her fingers drift along the controls. She knew exactly who she wanted to see. "Agatha Christie."
"Agatha Christie?"
She nodded. The Thirteen Problems was the first book she had ever kept. The cover had been torn away, and it sat squished between the blue journal and On the Origin of Species. It was long gone now, but she'd had it memorized since she was seven.
The Doctor grinned. "Alright then. Agatha Christie." He flipped a lever definitively.
The TARDIS touched down a few minutes later in the middle of a large garden on a beautiful day. "Oh, smell that air. Grass and lemonade and a little bit of mint. Just a hint of mint, must be the 1920s."
"You can tell what year it is just by smelling," Donna asked.
"Oh yeah?"
"Or he can see the car over there," Rey pointed out. Like the nosy people they were, the three decided to follow it and see what was going on. Beneath an awning, Professor Peach exchanged a few pleasantries with Reverend Golighty before rushing up to the manor's library. He insisted on being alone, leaving the garden party behind.
"Never mind Planet Zog. A party in the 1920s—that's more like it," Donna decided.
"The trouble is we haven't been invited." The Doctor reached into his coat pocket only to frown and pat his torso in confusion. Rey held up the psychic paper with a twitch of her lips. Pick pocketing the Doctor was amusing. A little tricky since his pockets were bigger on the inside, but the challenge just made success that much more satisfying.
Donna insisted that they dress for the occasion. While the Doctor remained in his brown pinstriped suit, she and Rey had fun rummaging around the wardrobe. Quite frankly, it was absolutely ridiculous in there. The clothes were more like costumes, and there seemed to be no end to them. Finally, Rey settled on a blue spring dress with a pale cardigan and matching gloves. It was long enough that she wasn't uncomfortable, and the tassels made it fun to twist around. She felt rather catlike in her fixation with them.
"What do you think?"
The Doctor grinned and offered an arm to the both of them like a gentleman, leading them to join the party. Tables were now set up on the garden lawn, and the household staff was finishing up with the refreshments. As soon as they approached a footman attended to them straight away, asking for drink orders.
"May I introduce Lady Clemency Eddison," Greeves, the head butler, said when they were finished.
An older, petite woman approached. "Lady Eddison!" The Doctor held his hand out for hers enthusiastically.
She eyed him warily. "Excuse me, but who exactly might you be… and what are you doing here?"
"I'm the Doctor and this is Miss Rey." She thanked her stars that the Doctor hadn't used her full name. She didn't hate it, per say, but it never felt right. Her first name was a little peculiar, and she had known someone who went by a shortened version of her middle name, so Rey it was, short and simple. "And Miss Donna Noble… of the Chiswick Nobles."
"Good afternoon."
Donna curtseyed and, in a terribly fake posh accent, added "Topping day, what? Spiffing! Top hole!"
"No, no, no, no, no," the Doctor whispered. "Don't do that. Don't."
"Hello," Rey said simply.
Lady Eddison looked them all over once more, not as discrete in her judgments as she thought she was being. Rey took an instant dislike to her.
"We were thrilled to receive your invitation, my lady. We met at the ambassador's reception."
Not wanting to admit she didn't remember them, she played along. "Doctor, how could I forget you? But one must be sure with the Unicorn on the loose."
"A unicorn?" He perked up. "Brilliant. Where?"
She had meant, of course, the jewel thief who went by the moniker, not the actual creature. Or maybe not so mythical. The Doctor had taken Rey to a planet ruled by intelligent horned equestrians that might as well have called themselves unicorns. They were completely friendly until you managed to offend one, and then it was all out war.
"He's just struck again," Lady Eddison informed them a little too gleefully. "Snatched Lady Babbington's pearls right from under her nose."
"Funny place to wear pearls," Donna commented.
"May I announce the Colonel Hugh Curbishley, the Honorable Roger Curbishley." As Greeves spoke, a younger dark haired man pushed his rather rotund father, who sat in a wheelchair, towards them. Lady Eddison further introduced them as her son and husband.
"Forgive me for not rising," the Colonel said. "Never been the same since the flu epidemic back in '18."
"My word," Roger exclaimed, attention instantly captured by Donna. "You are a super lady!"
"Oh! I like the cut of your jib. Chin-chin."
"I'm the Doctor." He shook Roger's hand. "This is Rey." She stayed silent as the rest exchanged pleasantries. Davenport, the footman, soon returned with their drinks, along with Roger's unordered glass. The two shared a heated look. Like his mother, he wasn't as discrete as he thought he was. Rey wondered if conspicuity ran in the family.
"How come she's an Eddison but her husband and son are Curbishleys," asked Donna.
"The Eddison title descends through her," the Doctor explained. "One day, Roger will be a lord."
The other guests quickly began filing in one by one. Robina Redmond and Reverend Arnold Golightly had both been already announced by Greeves. Lady Eddison took it upon herself to introduce the guest of honor. Everyone applauded as Agatha Christie strode across the lawn with a purposeful grace.
"Oh, no. Please don't. Thank you, Lady Eddison. Honestly, there's no need." She stuck her hand out to shake Donna's while giving out her name.
"What about her?" Rey gave Donna a slight nudge, reminding her of why they were there in the first place.
"That's me," Agatha replied, amused.
"No! You're kidding!"
"Agatha Christie," the Doctor declared, shaking her hand. "I was just thinking about you the other day. I said, 'I bet she's brilliant.' I'm the Doctor, this is Rey, and this is Donna. Oh, I love your stuff! What a mind! You fool me every time. Well, almost every time. Well, once or twice. Well… once. But it was a good once."
Rey rolled her eyes. "Ignore him." Agatha had a firm handshake. "He often forgets to stop. It's lovely to meet you."
"You make a rather unusual couple."
"Oh, no, no, no, no. We're not married."
"We're not a couple," Donna stressed. For some reason, it wasn't an uncommon conclusion people drew about them. Every time Rey had been with them so far, someone made the assumption Donna and the Doctor were romantically linked.
"Obviously not—no wedding ring."
"Oh… you don't miss a trick," the Doctor praised.
"And I'd stay that way if I were you." Agatha leveled her an even stare. "The thrill is in the chase, never in the capture."
"Mrs. Christie, I'm so glad you could come," Lady Eddison said. "I'm one of your greatest followers. I've read all six of your books. Uh, is, uh, Mr. Christie not joining us?"
"Is he needed? Can't a woman make her own way in the world?"
"Don't give my wife ideas," the Colonel joked.
"Mrs. Christie, I have a question." Roger stepped up to them, adding to their slowly growing circle. "Why a Belgian detective?"
"Excuse me, Colonel." The Doctor took the newspaper sitting in his lap. While the other guests wondered after Professor Peach, he called Rey's and Donna's attention to the date.
"What about it?"
"It's the day Agatha Christie disappeared," Rey answered. "She'd just found out her husband was having an affair."
"You'd never think to look at her smiling away," Donna commented
"Well, she's British and moneyed," the Doctor rationalized. "That's what they do—they carry on."
"Or," Rey offered, "she's decided not to define herself by a man." Donna grinned, and the Doctor smiled at her fondly. She cleared her throat and tried to ignore the warmth grown under her collar. "No one knows what happened today. She just vanished. They'll find her car by the lake tomorrow morning. Ten days later she'll turn up at a hotel in Harrogate claiming she can't remember anything about the last few days. It's a mystery."
"But whatever it was…" The Doctor began.
"It's about to happen," Donna finished.
"Right here and now." Rey couldn't remember the last time she was this excited. Scratch that, she could. Every adventure with the Doctor was filled with excitement. She just couldn't remember the last time she had felt this excited this often. In a small voice, she thanked him. "I love my present."
He practically preened.
"Present," Donna asked.
"Birthday present."
"It's your birthday?!"
Technically, her birthday was the day of the earthquake. Between the jumping and time traveling, however, she hadn't had a chance to celebrate it. Not that she had a celebration planned anyway. How the Doctor found out, she didn't know. Maybe a future her told a past him or something.
"A little while ago. Or in eighty-five years."
"But I haven't got you present." She sounded so disappointed, much to Rey's confusion.
"I don't need a present from you, Donna. Just traveling together is enough."
"The Doctor's given you a present," she countered.
"He insisted." Loudly. And when Rey still hesitated, he declared he would do so regardless if she agreed or not. "I always celebrate birthdays," he'd claimed. "Especially yours." She didn't quite understand the sentiment, or why he singled her out, but it was easier just to nod.
Donna didn't look very reassured, but Miss Chandrakala, Lady Eddison's personal maid, ran out of the house yelling about a murder in the library and effectively distracted her. The Doctor and Rey took off in tandem, racing together to the scene of the crime. They arrived first, followed shortly by Donna and Agatha. By the times Greeves entered, he was already kneeling by the body. Rey made a cursory examination of the room, trying to commit it to memory.
"Bashed on the back of the head. Blunt instrument."
"His watch broke when he fell." She craned her neck to read it properly. "Time of death is roughly 4:15."
"Bit of pipe. Call me Hercule Poirot but I reckon that's blunt enough," Donna added.
The Doctor examined the papers on the desk. "Nothing worth killing for in that lot, dry as dust."
"Hold on, the body in the library," Donna asked the two of them quietly. "I mean, Professor Peach, in the library, with a lead piping?"
They heard Lady Eddison and the Colonel demand to see the scene from the doorway. The other guests were right behind their hosts. Agatha suggested someone call the police, and that was when the Doctor did his thing. He whipped out the psychic paper. "You don't have to. Chief Investigator Smith from Scotland Yard, known as the Doctor. Miss Rey and Miss Noble are the plucky young girls who help me out."
"I say," Lady Eddison gasped.
"Mrs. Christie was right. Go into the sitting room. I will question each of you in turn."
"Come along," Agatha prompted. "Do as the Doctor says. Keep the room undisturbed." They scurried out, leaving the trio in the library.
"'The plucky young girls who help me out,'" Donna quoted.
"There were no policewomen in 1926," the Doctor defended from his position stretched out on the floor. He was looking for more clues.
"Marie Owens is believed to be the first woman given the power of arrest, in 1891," Rey supplied offhandedly. "Edith Smith was the first in England, 1915." When she glanced back up, both the others were blinking owlishly at her. "I read it in a book. The hospital gets boring."
Donna opened her mouth to say something, paused, then thought better of it. "Why don't we phone the real police," she asked instead.
"The last thing we want is PC Plod sticking his nose in. Especially…" The Doctor used a pen to pull something from a crack in the floor, "now that I've found this. Morphis residue."
"Morphis? Doesn't sound very 1926."
"Gets left behind when certain species genetically re-encode."
"The murderer is an alien," Rey concluded. "Which means one of the guests is one. That aside—a murder, a mystery, and Agatha Christie…"
He sniffed the residue. "So? Happens to me all the time."
"Isn't that a bit weird," Donna asked. "Agatha Christie didn't walk around surrounded by murders. Not really. That's like meeting Charles Dickens and he's surrounded by ghosts. At Christmas."
"Well—"
"Oh, come on. It's not like we could drive across country and find Enid Blyton having tea with Noddy. Could we? Noddy's not real, is he? Tell me there's no Noddy."
"There's no Noddy," he confirmed while Rey did a final sweep of the room.
"You should ask Agatha about the paper in the fireplace," she commented as they walked out. The white scrap of paper was gone now, and only people near the burnt out cinders had been Donna and Agatha.
The Doctor beamed proudly at her. "Next thing you'll be telling me it's like Murder on the Orient Express and they all did it," Donna continued.
"Murder on the Orient Express," Agatha repeated questioningly.
"Oh yeah. One of your best."
"But not yet," Rey mumbled. "You're eight years early."
Agatha hummed. "Marvelous idea, though."
"Yeah, tell you what—copyright: Donna Noble, yeah?"
"Anyway," the Doctor said, trying to move the conversation along. "Agatha and I will question suspects. Rey and Donna, you search the bedrooms, look for clues. And more residue." He pulled out a large magnifying glass from his pocket. "You'll need this."
"Is that for real," Donna deadpanned.
"Go on. You two are ever so plucky."
Rey took the magnifying glass. "I prefer intrepid," she offered before heading upstairs with Donna. They searched the rooms one by one until they came across a locked door at the end of the corridor.
Out of nowhere, Greeves materialized behind them. "You won't find anything in there."
Donna jumped. "Oh! How come it's locked?"
"Lady Eddison commands it so."
"If nothing's inside you won't mind us having a look then," Rey challenged. "Unlock it."
"Why's it locked in the first place," Donna wondered while Greeves reluctantly complied.
"Many years ago, when my father was butler to the family, Lady Eddison returned from India with malaria. She locked herself in this room for six months until she recovered. Since then, this room has remained… undisturbed."
That was odd. Lady Eddison was the type who would either flaunt having survived and recovered from her illness, or she'd destroy all evidence and never speak of it again. A sealed room, untouched and unchanged, was uncharacteristically sentimental.
The door creaked as it opened. Despite the appearance of an ordinary, albeit very dusty, bedroom, Rey felt like she was standing in front of a crime scene. No, not a crime scene, a memorial. Traces of a life lingered, evidenced by the bed and sparse but practical furniture. A teddy bear sat upon the mattress like an offering, worn around the middle from being hugged tightly and often.
She didn't like the way this was headed.
"There's nothing in here," Greeves observed, trying to rush them out.
"How long has it been empty," she asked.
"Forty years."
"Why would she seal it off? All right, we need to investigate. You just… butle off." Donna shooed Greeves away and shut the door behind him. Reminded of her own doll, Rey picked up the stuffed toy. She hoped it had survived the earthquake intact. It was an old thing, worn and raggedy, but even after fourteen years she couldn't let it go.
A buzzing noise in the distance was steadily moving closer until it was all she could hear. Something instinctively inside of Rey rebelled at the sound. The hair on Rey's arms all stood on end. She felt like flinching or flailing or hiding away beneath her sheets.
Oblivious to her visceral reaction, Donna made her way to the windows. Thick, heavy curtains flanked them. "1926, they've still got bees. Oh, what a noise! Alright busy bee, I'll let you out. Hold on. I shall find you with my amazing powers of detection." She spoke the last few words in a terrible Belgium accent.
Rey straightened up, refusing to be done in by simple noise. She handed Donna the magnifying glass and threw the drapes open only to bite back a curse. Hovering outside the window was the biggest wasp she had ever seen by far. It was easily over two meters tall, angry and ready to lash out.
"That's impossible," Donna exclaimed, dropping the magnifying glass in shock.
"I think we found our morphic alien," Rey said without taking her eyes off it.
Using its stinger, the wasp broke through the window glass. While Donna yelled for the Doctor, Rey grabbed the fallen magnifying glass. Wrestling her nerves down, she forced herself closer until she was in the perfect position to catch the sunlight with the lens.
A terrible burning smell hit her nose so visceral that it was like a punch to the face. The wasp screeched in pain, flailing as much as a wasp could flail while still in midair. Pulling her by the arm, Donna dragged Rey back out into the hall, slamming the door behind them just in time for it to catch the wasp's stinger. The wood gave way to the pointed end, but there wasn't enough force behind it to push the stinger all the way through.
The Doctor and Agatha came rushing up the stairs. "There is a giant wasp," Donna gasped.
"What do you mean, giant wasp?" He looked to Rey for clarification but she just shook her head."Giant wasp" pretty much summed it up. Between the pounding of her heart and the buzzing still crackling in her ears, she couldn't think about anything else.
"Rey?" The Doctor was careful not to touch her, ignoring Donna's and Agatha's bickering over the size of the insect. "Still with me? Do you need anything? Water? A blanket? Somewhere nice and quiet and dark to lie down?"
"I'm fine," she tried to say, only for her voice to come out as a croak. The Doctor's frown deepened. Clearing her throat, she pushed past the thick and heavy feel of her tongue and repeated herself more clearly. "Sorry, but I'm fine."
"You sure?"
She took a deep breath to center herself. This was England, 1926, a party with Agatha Christie. "Yes."
"Look at its sting," Donna exclaimed, and they all refocused their attention back on the matter at hand.
The wasp had flown off by the time the group returned to the room. Agatha studied the broken-off stinger with fascination. She reached out to touch it. "I wouldn't," Rey advised, noting the viscous fluid clinging to it. It could have been venomous.
"Let me." The Doctor pulled out a vial from his pocket. Using another pen, he spooned a sample of the goop into in before seating the top with a stopper. "Giant wasp… Well, there are tonnes of amorphous insectivorous lifeforms but… none in this galactic vector."
"I think I understood some of those words," Agatha admitted. "Enough to know that you're completely potty."
"Lost its sting, though," Donna pointed out. "That makes it defenseless."
"Unless it's capable of growing another one," Rey said.
The Doctor nodded. "Creature this size? Gotta be."
Agatha shook her head. "Uh, can we return to sanity? There are no such things as giant wasps."
"Exactly! So the question is: what's it doing here?"
A loud scream interrupted their trek back downstairs. Moments later, they found Miss Chandrakala laying in the drive, a fallen gargoyle crushing her. She had just enough life in her to leave them with a cryptic message before she died. "The poor, little child."
The buzzing was back. As they ran, Rey steeled herself. It was just an insect. Granted, it was a giant insect, but she was the one chasing it this time, not the other way around. As if reading her thoughts, Donna made a comment on exactly that. Agatha kept insisting it was a trick, even with it clearly in her sights.
The wasp hovered at the top of the stairs. "Oh, but you are wonderful," the Doctor exclaimed. She grimaced and tried to focus on her own heartbeat, her breathing, the hands of the grandfather clock near them—anything but the buzzing.
Tick. Tick. Tick.
Predictably, it didn't react well to being called out. The wasp turned and rushed at them. Its stinger already re-grown, and now it was gleaming with venom. They ducked just in time for it to pass over their heads. Donna held the magnifying glass up threatening. "Oi! Flyboy!"
Remembering the pain, the wasp retreated. "Don't let it get away," the Doctor ordered. "Quick, before it reverts to human form!" They chased it into an upstairs hallway. "Where are you? Come on! There's nowhere to run—show yourself!" The doors in the corridor opened at once. Every single guest stepped out, looking at them strangely. "Oh… that's just cheating," he complained.
Everyone ended up collecting in the sitting room. Lady Eddison was in tears when she heard what happened to Miss Chandrakala. "My faithful companion," she wailed. "This is terrible!"
"Excuse me, my lady. She was on her way to tell you something," Davenport reported.
"She never found me. She had an appointment with death instead!"
Part of it was for show, but beneath Lady Eddison's theatrics was genuine despair. "She said 'the poor little child' before she died. Does that mean anything to anyone?"
"No children in this house for years. Highly unlikely there will be." The Colonel looked at his son disapprovingly.
"Mrs. Christie, you must have twigged something. You've written simply the best detective stories," Lady Eddison insisted.
"Tell us… what would Poirot do," Reverend Golighty asked.
"Heaven's sake! Card on the table, woman! You should be helping us," Colonel Curbishley demanded.
"But—I'm merely a writer."
"But surely you can crack it," Robina said. "These events, they're exactly like one of our plots."
Donna nodded along. "That's what I've been saying. Agatha, that's got to mean something."
"But what? I've no answers. None. I'm sorry, but I've failed. If anyone can help us, it's the Doctor, not me." Looking a bit strung out, Agatha quickly excused herself from the room, away from everyone's demands. The group broke apart again, no one happy and everyone with their own share of questions.
Later, when she and Donna came to Rey and the Doctor with what they found in the bushes outside, Agatha looked much better. Rey didn't know what the two girls talked about, but she hoped it helped. Things were tense enough with murders and suspicions flying around. No one needed to be ganged up on and have the crimes magically figured out demanded on them.
Inside the case was a range of tools. Rey recognized the ones for lock picking, but some of the others were a mystery to her. Professional criminal often preferred to have their own set, customized for their various needs. "This is something a thief would have."
"The Unicorn," Agatha quickly concluded. "He's here!"
"The Unicorn and the Wasp," the Doctor mused.
Greeves approached them with a tray of drinks. He walked in a practiced manner: soft steps, little to no rustling of his clothes, even quiet breathing. It was like being served by an invisible man. Or a ghost.
"What about the science stuff," Donna asked. "What did you find?"
"Hm, Vespiform sting. Vespiforms have got hives in the Silifax Galaxy. For some reason, this one's behaving like a character in one of your books." The Doctor took a sip of his drink.
"Come on, Agatha. What would Miss Marple do," Donna prompted. "She'd've overheard something vital by now because the murderer thinks she's just a harmless old lady."
"Clever idea. Miss Marple—who writes those?"
"December, 1927," Rey whispered.
"Um, copyright: Donna Noble. Add it to the list."
"Rey…" The Doctor's voice came out strangely. Too throaty and strangled. "Something's inhibiting my enzymes." He jerked forwards suddenly and cried out in pain. She and Donna rushed to his side as he began convulsing. "I've been poisoned!"
"How do we help you," she asked quickly. He couldn't die like this. Not this easily, and not this soon.
Agatha sniffed his drink. "Bitter almonds—it's cyanide. Sparkling cyanide!"
The Doctor ran to the kitchen with the three girls hot on his trail. He staggered and grabbed Davenport by the footman's lapels, partly to steady himself and partly to get the man's full attention. "Ginger beer."
"I beg your pardon?"
"I need ginger beer." He ran to the shelves and practically knocked half of it over with his jerky movement. A few mouthfuls of the stuff went down his throat. The rest of the jug he poured over his head.
"This gentleman's gone mad!"
"I'm an expert in poisons" Agatha insisted. "It's fatal! There's no cure!"
"Not for me! I can stimulate the inhibited enzymes into reversal. Protein! I need protein!"
Rey searched the kitchen. "Walnuts," Donna declared upon finding a bag full of them in the pantry.
"Brilliant!" He shoved his mouth full of them and tried to give the next instruction.
"We can't understand you," Donna cried. He shook one of his hands. "How many words? One. One word. Shake? Milk? Shake? Milk? Milk! No, not milk. Um, shake, shake, shake—cocktail shaker! What do you want, a Harvey Wallbanger?"
He swallowed. "Harvey Wallbanger?"
"Well I don't know!"
"How is Harvey Wallbander one word?"
"Doctor," Rey insisted.
"Salt! I was miming salt! Salt I need something salty!"
Donna shoved a bag at him. "What about this?"
"What is it?"
"It's salt."
"That's too salty!"
"Here!" Rey thrust a jar at him. He downed the contents in one go.
"What's that," Donna asked.
She wrinkled her nose. "Anchovies."
Still chewing, the Doctor tried gesturing again. He held his hands up with his palms out. "What is it? What else? It's a song. 'Mammy.' I don't know, 'Camptown Races?'"
"'Camptown Races'," he echoed incredulously.
"Well, alright then. 'Towering Inferno.'"
"It's a shock! Look! Shock! I need a shock!"
Donna huffed. "Alright then, big shock coming up."
She grabbed Rey's shoulders and pushed her at the Doctor. Their lips met in a, quite honestly, disgusting and horrific combination of fermented ginger, tiny fish, nuts, and too much teeth. In fact, as she jerked back, Rey actually tasted blood beneath the wretched fusion of foods that should never have been mixed. Her bottom lip was bleeding a little, nicked by one of his incisors.
He threw his head back. A plume of black smoke was expelled from his mouth and he groaned. "Ah! Detox. I must do that more often. I mean the— the detox."
"You're terrible at charades," she said to Donna, wiping her mouth and trying to put what just happened out of her mind. It was just the cut that was making her lips tingle. She was helping him—what just happened was no different than what Amy and Rory had gone through with the Siren. No, it was even less than that. That had been about trust, this was purely for shock value. She would do it again in a heartbeat if it meant saving the Doctor, but she would die happy if she never had to.
All the books always made such a big deal about a person's first kiss, but she didn't feel different. Nothing had changed. She wasn't suddenly older or more mature. Her lips and been pressed against someone else's, and she could really say that she was better or worse for it. If anything, she would say that the Doctor had been more affected by what happened than she. For the next few hours, he could barely look at her.
The weather of a perfect day gave way to a brewing thunderstorm that night when they all collected in the dining room for dinner. She sat next to the Doctor and stared at her yellow soup. The mood was somber, heavy with grim all the tragedies that had happened under the sun.
"A terrible day for all of us. The professor struck down, Miss Chandrakala cruelly taken from us. And yet, we still take dinner."
"We are British, Doctor." Lady Eddison's voice was as stiff as her posture. "What else must we do?"
"And then someone tried to poison me. Any one of you had the chance to put cyanide in my drink. But it rather gave me an idea."
"And what would that be," Reverend Golighty asked pleasantly.
"Well, poison." The group collectively tensed and stopped eating. "Drink up. I've laced the soup with pepper."
"Ah, I thought it was jolly spicy," the Colonel remarked, not quite breaking the tense mood, but softening it.
"The active ingredient in pepper is peperine. Among its traditional uses is as an insecticide." Rey's explanation coincided with a crack of thunder, which earned her a few probing looks. "Or so I've heard," she tacked on, feeling uncomfortable.
"Oh, anyone got the shivers," the Doctor asked. No sooner were the words out of his mouth that thunder struck again. The lights blinked out and a particularly strong gust of wind forced the windows open and extinguished all the candles at once.
"What the deuce is that," Colonel Curbishley demanded to know.
"Listen," the Doctor ordered. Rey's stomach dropped, and knowing what was coming next made her glad she hadn't eaten anything yet. The buzzing of the electricity was gone, replaced by something much louder.
"No… no, it can't be," Lady Eddison gasped.
Agatha stood. "Show yourself, demon!"
"Nobody move," the Doctor shouted. "No, don't! Stay where you are!" The Vespiform appeared and there was chaos. Greeves ushered Donna out of the room. The Doctor grabbed Rey's wrist and pulled her with him. "Out! Out! Out! Out! Out!" She grabbed Agatha along, but only the five of them had run to the other room. The Doctor pulled a sword down from a wall display, intending to go back. "Not you, Agatha. You've got a long life to lead yet," he told her when she made to go back. "Rey, stay with them."
"Well we know the butler didn't do it," Donna remarked sarcastically.
"Are you okay," Rey asked, relaxing a little when she received an affirmative response. She then ignored the Doctor's orders and ran back in the dining room. With another buzz, the lights flickered back on. The Doctor stood with the sword held out to defend against an enemy that had already retreated.
"My jewelry…" Lady Eddison felt at her neck. "The firestone—it's gone! Stolen!"
"Roger…" Davenport was staring at his lover's body in horror. The younger Curbishley had been stabbed in the back and was hunched over his dinner on the table.
Robina screamed. Lady Eddison walked over to him on shaking legs. "My son… my child!" For the second time that day she burst into tears.
Leaving the family to their grief, Rey, the Doctor, Donna, and Agatha moved to the sitting room. The fire thoroughly warned them, melting through the cold horror and bathing them in an orange glow. It was almost possible to forget what had just happened. "That poor footman," Donna said from her spot on the sofa next to Agatha. "Roger's dead and he can't even mourn him. 1926. It's more like the dark ages."
"Did you enquire about the necklace," Agatha asked.
"Lady Eddison brought it back from India. It's worth thousands."
"Something doesn't add up," Rey said with a frown. She stood by the fireplace, captivated by the flame's flickering movements. Watching it helped her think, even if it did dry out her eyes. "The Vespiform can fly, has a venomous stinger it can re-grow, and the advantage of a hidden identity. It could kill us easily, but instead it's acting like this."
"Every murder is essentially the same," Agatha said. "They are committed because somebody wants something."
"What does the Vespiform want," the Doctor wondered aloud.
"Doctor, stop it. The murderer is as human as you or I."
He paused, suddenly coming to a new conclusion. "You're right. I've been so up with giant wasps, I've forgotten." He stepped towards Agatha. "You're the expert."
"Look, I told you, I'm just a… purveyor of nonsense."
"But you aren't," Rey pointed out, moving to take a seat beside Agatha. The woman was such an idol of hers that she couldn't stand to just listen to the author disparage herself anymore. Books were how Rey escaped. Some people met up with friends or went on vacations, but the only way Rey could get away was by reading. Agatha's stories were some of her favorites. She lived through them, right alongside every character.
"You know people. Your stories are so good because your characters are real. You get them—hopes, despairs, passions, angers. This isn't just a murder, this is a mystery, and if anyone is going to solve this, it's you."
She wasn't sure if her pep talk really helped. For all her love of books, she was terrible at words herself. But Agatha's back stood a little straighter, and she stopped looking at the ground. At her behest, they gathered the survivors into the sitting room, ready to solve the case once and for all.
"I've called you here on this endless night because we have a murderer in our midst," the Doctor told them. Standing in front of the fireplace meant that the flames lit him in an enigmatic light. He'd taken on the role of the narrator with gusto. "And when it comes to detection, there's none finer… Ladies and gentlemen, I give you Agatha Christie."
She moved to take his place while he took a seat next to Rey. "This is a crooked house… a house of secrets. To understand the solution, we must examine them all. Starting with you… Miss Redmond."
"But I'm innocent, surely," she protested.
"You've never met these people and these people never met you. I think the real Robina Redmond never left London. You're impersonating her!"
"How silly. What proof do you have?"
"You said you'd been to the toilet—"
"Oh, I know this," Donna interrupted from the sidelines. "If she was really posh, she'd say 'loo'."
"Earlier today Miss Noble and I found this on the lawn," Agatha continued. She held up the case they'd all been examining right before the Doctor was poisoned. "Right beneath your bathroom window. You must have heard Miss Noble and Miss Rey were searching the bedrooms and you panicked. You ran upstairs and disposed of the evidence."
"I've never seen that thing before in my life," Robina denied straightforwardly.
"What's inside it," Lady Eddison asked.
"The tools of your trade, Miss Redmond. Or should I say… the Unicorn. You came to this house with one sole intention: to steal the Firestone!"
Knowing she was caught, the woman who claimed to be Robina dropped the act. Her posture instantly shifted to something not quite so stiff, and her accent slipped to that of a Cockney one. "Oh, alright then. It's a fair cop. Yes, I'm the bleedin' Unicorn. Ever so nice to meet you, I don't think. I took my chance in the dark and nabbed it." Standing, she pulled the necklace out from under her dress strap. "Go on then, ya nobs, arrest me. Sling me in jail." The Doctor caught the necklace as she threw it.
"So is she the murderer," Donna asked.
"Don't be so thick. I might be a thief but I ain't no killer."
"Quite," Agatha agreed. "There are darker motives at work, and in examining this household… we come to you, Colonel."
"Damn it, woman! You with your perspicacity! You've rumbled me!" Without a problem, Colonel Curbishley stood up in his wheelchair.
"You— you can walk? But why," Lady Eddison asked.
"My darling, how else could I be certain of keeping you by my side," he implored. Rey thought it was a terrible excuse. Manipulative. Selfish. Insulting. "You're still a beautiful woman, Clemency. Sooner or later, some chap will turn your head. I couldn't bear that. Staying in the chair was the only way I could be certain of keeping you. Confound it, Mrs. Christie! How did you discover the truth?"
"Um, actually, I had no idea," Agatha admitted awkwardly. They all felt awkward. "I was just going to say you were completely innocent."
"Ah… Oh."
"But a manipulative tool," Rey told him honestly.
"Well, shall I sit down then?"
"I think you better had," Agatha said.
"So he's not the murderer," Donna concluded.
"Indeed not. To find the truth, let's return…" The Doctor handed Agatha the Firestone. "To this: far more than the Unicorn's object of desire. The Firestone has quite a history. Lady Eddison."
She sniffled. "I've done nothing!"
"You brought it back from India, did you not? Before you met the Colonel. You came home with malaria and confined yourself to this house for six months, in a room that has been locked ever since, which I rather think means—"
"Stop, please," Lady Eddison begged.
"I'm so sorry. But you had fallen pregnant in India. Unmarried and ashamed, you hurried back to England with your confidante, a young maid, later to become housekeeper, Miss Chandrakala."
"Clemency," the Colonel exclaimed. Of course, after the revelation of his secret, he had no right to judge her. What a couple they made; secrets all around. "Is this true?"
"My poor baby. I had to give him away. Oh, the shame of it."
"But you've never said a word!"
"I had no choice. Imagine the scandal, the family name. I'm British—I carry on."
"And it was no ordinary pregnancy," the Doctor concluded.
Lady Eddison looked at him, horrified. "How can you know that?"
"Excuse me, Agatha, this is my territory. But when you heard that buzzing sound in the dining room, you said 'It can't be.' Why did you say that?"
"You'd never believe it."
"The Doctor has opened my mind to believe many things," Agatha coaxingly told her.
She held out for a moment longer before giving in and telling them the story. Forty years ago in India, she saw what she thought was a falling star. She met a man and fell in love, and the man showed her a secret. "I loved him so much it didn't matter," she told them tearfully. "But he was stolen from me. 1885, the year of the Great Monsoon. The river Jumna rose up and broke the banks. He was taken at the flood, but Christopher left me with a parting gift—a jewel like no other. I wore it always. Part of me never forgot. I keep it close. Always."
"Just like a man," Robina snidely added. "Flashes his family jewels and you end up with a bun in the oven."
"A 'poor little child,'" Agatha quoted. "Forty years ago, Miss Chandrakala took that newborn babe to an orphanage. But Professor Peach worked it out. He found the birth certificate."
"Maiden name," Rey concluded, recalling what Agatha revealed was written on the scrap of paper she plucked from the library fireplace.
"Precisely."
"So she killed him," Donna accused.
"I did not!"
"Miss Chandrakala feared that the professor had unearthed your secret," Agatha continued. "She was coming to warn you."
"So she killed her."
"I did not!"
"Lady Eddison is innocent. Because at this point… Doctor?"
"Thank you." He stood and took over. "Because as this point when we consider the lies and secrets and the key to these events, then we have to consider… it was you, Donna Noble—" He pointed dramatically at her.
"What? Who did I kill?"
"No, but you said it all along, the vital clue: that this whole thing is being acted out like a murder mystery. Which means… it's was you, Agatha Christie." He pointed at her next.
"I beg your pardon, sir?"
"So she killed them," Donna concluded.
"No, but she wrote. She wrote those brilliant, clever books. And who's her greatest admirer? Other than Rey, I mean. The moving finger points… at you, Lady Eddison."
"Leave me alone," she wailed.
"So she did kill them"
"No." Rey knocked the Doctor's arm back down. "Please stop that and just tell them who it is."
He rubbed the sore spot. "Okay, to the point. Everyone, just think. Last Thursday night, what were you doing, Lady Eddison?"
"Uh, I was um… I was in the library. I was reading my favourite Agatha Christie thinking about her plots, and how clever she must be. How is that relevant?"
"Because something else happened Thursday night," Rey said before the Doctor could unnecessarily complicate things again. She turned to face the Reverend.
"I'm sorry," Golighty asked.
"On the lawn this afternoon you told the tale of those boys breaking into your church."
"That's correct… They did. I discovered the two of them: thieves in the night. I was most perturbed. But I apprehended them."
"Alone," she commented.
The Doctor picked up on her tone. "A man of God against two strong lads," he asked. "A man in his forties? Or, should I say, forty years old exactly."
"Oh my God!"
"Lady Eddison, your child—how old would he be now?"
"Forty. He's forty."
"And he's come home," Rey told her.
"Ha! This is poppycock," the reverend exclaimed.
"Oh," the Doctor asked. "You said you were taught by the Christian fathers, meaning, raised in an orphanage."
"My son! Can it be?"
"You found those thieves, Reverend, and you got angry. A proper, deep anger for the first time in your life and it broke the genetic code. You changed. You realized your inheritance. After all these years you knew who you were. Oh, then it all kicks off 'cos this…" He held up the Firestone. "This isn't just a jewel—it's a Vespiform telepathic recorder. It's part of you, your brain, your very essence. And when you activated, so did the Firestone. It beamed your full identity directly into your mind. And at the same time, it absorbed the works of Agatha Christie directly from Lady Eddison. It all became part of you. The mechanics of those novels formed a template in your brain."
"That's why he's been killing like this," Rey concluded, picking up the train of evidence. It made sense, she supposed, in the way impossible things made sense when you were around the Doctor. Or maybe it was just that the Doctor made you more aware of impossible things so that you come make sense of the previously nonsensical?
"Yup. It's what he thinks the world is. Turns out we are in the middle of a murder mystery. One of yours, Dame Agatha," the Doctor finished and sat on the sofa arm.
"Dame," Agatha echoed.
"1971," Rey mumbled.
"Oh, sorry, not yet."
"So he killed them? Yes? Definitely," asked Donna.
"Yes," Rey confirmed.
"Well, this has certainly been a most entertaining evening. Really, you can't believe any of this, surely, Lady Eddizzz—"
"Lady who?"
"Lady Eddizzzon…" Rey held back a flinch as the buzzing threatened to return. The Doctor teased Golighty, hoping to provoke him into revealing himself. He didn't have to try hard. "Damn it! You humanzzz! Worshiping your tribal sky godzzz! I am so much more! That night, the universe exploded in my mind! I wanted to take what wazz mine. And you, Agatha Christie, with your railway station bookstall romancezzz—what'zzz to stop me killing you?"
"Oh, my dear God!" Lady Eddison reached out. "My child!"
"What'zzz to stop me killing you all?" He transformed before their very eyes, shedding his human form and morphing into the wasp.
"Forgive me," she begged.
"No, Clemency!" Between Curbishley and Greeves, they managed to pull her to the door. "Keep away! Keep away, my darling!"
Agatha held the Firestone up in the air. "No! No more murder! If my imagination made you kill, then my imagination will find a way to stop you, foul creature!" She dashed out of the room, leading him away from the others. The Doctor, Rey, and Donna followed after her.
"Wait," Donna yelled. "Now it's chasing us!"
They made it outside, slamming the manor doors behind them. Up ahead, Agatha was already behind the wheel of her car. The Firestone sat in the passenger-side seat as she drove past, honking to horn to grab Golighty's attention. He easily broke free through the doors and resumed his pursuit.
"Over here," Agatha called. "Come and get me, Reverend!"
"Agatha, what are you doing?"
"If I started this, Doctor, then I must stop it!"
"Come on!" He ushered them to another car.
"You said this is the night Agatha Christie loses her memory," Donna shouted. With the top down, the wind roared in Rey's ears, drowning out the sound of the wasp.
"Time is in flux, Donna! For all we know, this is the night Agatha Christie loses her life and history gets changed!"
"But where is she going?!"
"The lake," Rey yelled. They drove past a sign pointing to the Silent Pool. "Her car is found by the lake in the morning."
"What's she doing," the Doctor asked.
Agatha stopped her car and rushed out. She had the Firestone in her hand, dangling it like a cape before a bull. "Here I am! The honey in the trap. Come to me, Vespiform."
"She's controlling it," Rey realized.
"Its mind is based on her thought processes. They're linked."
"Quite so, Doctor. If I die, then this creature might die with me."
"Don't hurt her," he yelled to Golighty. "You're not meant to be like this. You've got the wrong template in your mind."
"He's not listening." Donna plucked the Firestone from Agatha and tossed it in the lake. Before anyone could do anything else, the Reverent dived in after it. Bubbling like it was boiling, the water glowed purple. "Hold do you kill a wasp? Drown it. Just like its father."
"He couldn't help himself," Rey protested.
"Neither could I," Donna said. The look in her eye told Rey that she had noticed how uncomfortable the buzzing had made her.
"Death comes as the end," Agatha said. "And justice is served."
"Murder at the vicar's rage," the Doctor proposed. Donna rolled her eyes. "Needs a bit of work."
"Just one mystery left, Doctor. Who exactly are you?" The words were barely out of Agatha's mouth when she suddenly doubled over in pain.
Rey was quick to catch her before she hit the ground. Unable to handle the weight, her legs buckled quickly beneath her. "It's the Firestone," the Doctor exclaimed. "It's part of the Vespiform's mind! It's dying and it's connected to Agatha!"
She began to glow the same purple as the water, but it soon faded and she relaxed, unconscious. "It let her go," Rey said. She didn't know how to feel about that. "The Reverend chose to save her life in the end."
"Is she alright though," Donna asked.
Both girls looked to the Doctor. "Oh, of course! The amnesia! Wiped her mind of everything that happened. The wasp, the murders."
"And us. She'll forget about us."
"We've found the answer to another riddle," she said consolingly. Sure, it was disappointing that Agatha wouldn't remember her, but it couldn't be helped. And forgetting was better than dying.
The Doctor nodded. "The mystery of Agatha Christie's disappearance. Tomorrow they'll find her car abandoned by the side of the lake. And a few days later she'll turn up at a Harrogate hotel with no memory of what happened." They dropped her off in the TARDIS, watching as Agatha walked in a bit of a daze. She paused at the stone steps in front of the building and looked back without really seeing them. "No one'll ever know," he remarked as they dematerialized.
"Lady Eddison, the Colonel, and all the staff—what about them," Donna asked.
"A shameful story. They'd never talk of it. Too British. While the Unicorn does a bunk back to London Town, she can never say she was there."
"But what happens to Agatha?"
He dug around in one of the storage spaces beneath the grating. "She still has a great life ahead of her," Rey told Donna. "She marries her second husband in less than three years, sees the world, gets knighted." She nudged the Doctor. "And never stops writing."
"You really do admire her, don't you," Donna asked. She nodded, unabashed. "It's a shame though. She never thought her books were any good. And she must have spent all those years wondering."
"Thing is, I don't think she ever quite forgot," the Doctor said. "Great mind like that, some of the details kept bleeding through. All the stuff her imagination could use."
"Like Miss Marple."
"I should have made her sign a contract."
"And—where is it? Hold on… Here we go. 'C.'" He pulled out a chest and rummaged around. "That is 'C' for Cyberman." A silver chestplate was tossed to the ground. "'C' for Carrionite." Next went a crystal globe with three old women yelling in it. "Oh, wait till you meet Martha."
"Who?"
A bust of Caesar was set down next. "And… Christie, Agatha." He held up a paperback copy of Death in the Clouds triumphantly. The cover displayed a giant wasp. "Look at that."
"She did remember."
"Somewhere at the back of her mind, it all lingered. And that's not all. Look at the copyright page."
Donna flipped the book open. "Facsimile edition published in the year… five billion!?"
"People never stop reading them. She is the best-selling novelist of all time."
"But she never knew."
"No one ever really knows how or if they'll be remembered," Rey supposed. "They can only hope for the best. Maybe that's why she kept writing."
"The same thing keeps me traveling," the Doctor stated. "Onwards?"
"Onwards," they agreed.