A/N: I'm not entirely sure what happened, but I went on an all-night rampage and finished this story. I still need to check through it to try to make sure I don't have some gaping plot hole in there, but I'm pretty sure I can move to daily posts now. Also, it means I'll be able to edit and post the 20th chapter on 20 May 2020, and the 21st chapter on the 21st, etc. It isn't something that matters, I know, but I can't resist.
Chapter 20
The Evidence of the Betazoid Lady's Maid
"Ah, well," Plormot acknowledged, picking up the final passport. "There is still one last suspect for us to interview. Tehf Toloe, a betazoid."
Summoned to the dining compartment, Tehf Toloe entered and stood, respectfully waiting. A perfect aid and traveling companion to aging royalty. Plormot motioned for her to sit and she complied, hands folded neatly and the three observed her as a calm, placid being. Perfectly respectable, though Plormot suspected she lacked an overly calculating mind.
Contrary to his methods with Hannah Lee, Plormot was nothing but gracious predictability with Miss Toloe. He was at his most kind, his manners were of the upmost precision, setting her at ease.
"We wish to ask you everything you know about what happened last night," Plormot continued. "We realize you cannot give much bearing on the crime itself, but as we understand it, you may have seen or heard something of value. Do you understand?"
Her face remained kind and set in its expression of well-meaning. She was eager to please, but bemused.
"I don't know anything, sir."
"It may mean nothing to you, indeed, but you may have information that may mean something to us." Again, the blank, good expression.
"Like what, sir?"
"For instance, your employer, the Princess Nehn, sent for you last night."
"That is correct."
"At what time?"
"I do not know, sir. I was asleep when the purser came and told me." Indeed.
"Yes, yes. So you have no idea roughly when this was?"
"No, sir. I did not check the time, so I have no idea."
Plormot inwardly stifled his exasperation with such clueless answers. Was this woman truly so insulated, so lacking in curiosity? He marveled at her unquestioning mind.
"Were the ship's engines running?"
"I don't know. May be so, or perhaps not. I don't notice these things."
Unquestioning.
"Is it usual for the Princess to send for you this way?"
"What way? Oh – there isn't usually a purser. The Princess doesn't have one in her service. I live on site, and she'll buzz for me directly."
Plormot found he was suddenly an admirer of the Lieutenant's sharpness, and of Mrs. Valy'r's imagination.
"No, no. I mean, was it usual for her to call for you in the middle of the night?"
"Oh, no. It isn't unusual, sir. The Princess often requires attention at night. She does not sleep well."
"Alright, then. She calls for you and you get up. Did you put on a robe?"
"No, sir. I put on some clothes. I wouldn't want to go to the Princess in my pajamas."
"It's a bright robe, isn't it? A formal red?" Plormot employed his usual tactic of posing an assumption to be either agreed with or dismissed by the other party.
She stared at him.
"No, sir, it isn't."
"What color is it?"
"Color?"
"Yes, the color." Would this entire interview be like pulling whiskers? Plormot took a breath.
"The color of your robe," he started again. "What is the color of your robe?"
"No color."
"My dear Miss Toloe, what does that mean?"
"I don't have a red robe, sir." Her well-meaning face was stressed, now. "I don't have any robe at all. I've never owned one, and my pajamas have always served me adequately."
Such a linear thinker, she was, and such a stickler for implications in people's wording, Plormot was. Having finally realized the misunderstanding, he felt a bit annoyed at the woman's simple and linear mind. Needing to put her at ease again, however, he broke into a hearty laugh at the mistake. Such a funny mistake! The quadrant is filled with little misunderstandings like these, and surely they could share the humor!
She mustered a nervous, though very confused, giggle at Plormot's urging.
"Continue, Miss! A little pleasantry on my part, that is all. So you went along to the Princess Nehn. And what did you do when you got there?"
"I gave her an anti-inflammatory, for her pain. And I read to her to distract her and lull her into drowsiness. When she was sleepy enough, she told me to go, so I left and returned to my own bed."
"What time was this?"
"I don't know, sir. I had no reason to check. Sometime in the night." Plormot suppressed his need to shake his head.
"How long had you been in the Princess's compartment?"
"Perhaps half an hour, sir."
"Good, continue."
"Well, I got her another blanket, to keep her joints warm. Then I poured her some water in case she needed any in the night, or in the morning. Then I left."
"And then?"
"Nothing. I returned to my bed and slept."
"Did you meet anyone in the hall?"
"No, sir."
"You are sure? For instance, you didn't see a woman in a red robe and gold trim?" Her eyes nearly bulged at his returning to the robe business.
"No, sir. Aside from the purser, there was no one around. Everyone was asleep."
"So you saw – directly, with your eyes – the purser?"
"Yes, sir?"
"What was he doing?"
"He was coming out of one of the compartments."
"Coming out? As in, he was fully inside the room, and was stepping into the hall? Facing away from the room?"
"Yes, sir."
"What?" Mr. Douqh leaned in, a frown growing. "Which one?" He was likely concerned with the implication of one of his crew. But, his spontaneous reaction had startled Miss Toloe, and Plormot shot him a reproachful look.
"It would be natural, perfectly natural, for the purser to answer bells in the night. Do you remember which compartment it was?"
"It was near the center of the section, sir. Two or three doors down from the Princess's room."
"Please fill us in on the details of what happened."
"Well, we nearly collided. It was when I was returning from my compartment with the Princess's extra blanket."
"And he was coming out of a compartment and almost ran into you? Which way was he going?"
"Towards me, sir. He apologized and passed me and continued down the hall. A bell started ringing, but I think he had something else to attend to first, because he didn't go for it."
"The poor purser," Plormot mused, "he had such a busy night. He must have run a 33 yul* before the night was up. From waking you, then answering all the bells..."
"It wasn't the same purser to sent me to the Princess, sir. It was another one."
There was a moment's pause before Plormot reacted.
"Another purser. Had you seen him before?"
"No, sir."
"But you knew he was a purser?"
"He was wearing a ship uniform. What else could he have been but a member of the crew?"
"Do you think you would recognize him if you saw him?"
"I think so, sir."
Plormot gave hushed instructions into Mr. Douqh's ear. Douqh rose and sought out the attendant by the door while Plormot continued with Miss Toloe in that easy, relaxed manner he'd adopted for her.
"Have you ever been to earth, Miss Toloe?"
"No, sir. But I've seen travel destination advertisements for it. It looks to be a beautiful planet."
"You may have heard of who the dead man was. He boarded under a false identity. In truth, he was responsible for the death of an Earth child."
"Yes, I heard, sir. Mrs. Valy'r has been saying. I may be biased by her and the opinions of others on board, but it seems only just that he's dead."
And Plormot saw the unabashed sadness wash over the woman's face. She was truly a tender soul, who felt things keenly. It made her attentive to the Princess's needs, surely. She seemed to embody an ache for the bereaved family entire systems away.
Mr. Douqh had returned and whispered into Plormot's ear, who straightened and turned to Miss Toloe.
"The Orion Express's crew are entering in. Will you tell me which one you saw last night as you were going to the Princess with that extra blanket?"
Upon her consent, the purser, chief engineer, several attendants and other crewmen entered. Though only Bael, the purser should have had access to that section of the ship during those hours, Plormot had had Douqh fetch them all.
But the woman, having scanned the assembled crew, immediately shook her head.
"Sir, none of these men are him."
"But these are all the crew on board. Are you sure you aren't mistaken?"
"I am certain, sir. These are all tall or very broad men. The one I saw was smallish. He was not furred or tailed as some of the crew here are. When he apologized to me for bumping into me, his voice surprised me because it was so high in pitch. I remember him well, sir. None of these men are him."
* 33 yul – A standard running distance, akin to a 10k. Sourced from reddit's HFY story, 'The Human Race' by Sacamoto. I highly encourage anyone interested to look it up. It's a short, delightfully fun read, broken into three parts.