Chapter 42: The 1924 Train Murder Case (15)

“It doesn’t matter. We can vote three times anyway,” Eli replied, appearing remarkably calm.

—For NPCs, the failure to solve the mystery in this scenario meant collective death, but it had no real consequence for them. They could simply restart the scenario and lure in another batch of people, trapping them here forever.

“So, that means we must catch all three murderers,” the group whispered among themselves.

“We may not be able to determine who used the syringe yet, but we can identify the culprits responsible for the knife wound and the gunshot, right? It must be Basalomu and Dale!”

“What about the motive?” Some players, sensing the matter was not so simple, raised their doubts.

“To murder, there must be a weapon as well as a motive,” said the writer, Gil, displeased with the shallow reasoning. “If you reason like this, the murderer will never be caught. Moreover, the six essential elements of a story are time, place, characters, cause, process, and outcome. If someone wishes to kill another yet cannot even present a reason, the story simply fails to hold together.”

The others paid no mind to Gil’s ramblings, caring only whether they could find the murderer and leave the train safely.

“But the outcome is obvious now. Two of the murderers are Basalomu and Dale.”

“But what if we’re wrong? If we let the real murderer go, we’ll die just the same.”

“Well then, it seems we must review everyone’s motives. Yet a murderer never readily reveals their own motive.”

“So we should begin with the murder weapon,” Tang Mu concluded decisively.

“Look, bullets and cyanide aren’t easy to acquire. They require certain qualifications to access. But a dining knife, which can be picked up anytime in the restaurant car, needs no such credentials.”

“As for whether the murder was a crime of passion or premeditated… The challenge of masking the sound of a gunshot is not easily overcome. In fact, given other conditions, the murderer would likely abandon the gun and use a different method.”

“Obtaining dining utensils is just a matter of making use of what’s at hand. Whether with a gun or a dining knife, the methods and circumstances are similarly random.”

“So these two murderers can be categorized; we can profile them psychologically—they likely had prior conflict with the victim but did not expect to find themselves on the same train. Both acted impulsively, committing murder in a short span of time.”

“But injecting cyanide into the victim is anything but random.”

“The cyanide and syringe must have been prepared before boarding. That means the murderer who used cyanide committed premeditated murder and knew in advance that Augustine would be on this train.”

“So, everyone, let’s begin by explaining why we’re on this train at this particular time.”

“Who will begin?” Tang Mu looked around at the passengers in the train’s VIP compartment, seeing no one eager to speak first.

He decided to start himself.

“I’ll go first,” Tang Mu said. “Dale and I are headed to London for school, which is why we boarded the Haier train at this time. School starts in two days—you all know that, don’t you?”

“As for tomorrow, though it’s a day off, I need to visit some relatives in London. So, any doubts about my purpose for taking this train?”

None.

Tang Mu’s appearance was that of a student. His case contained only study materials and clothing. For now, he seemed above suspicion.

“And your maid?” Dale’s case, after all, held a bloodstained dining knife and was the focus of much suspicion.

“She’s my companion and caretaker,” Tang Mu explained. “She came to my house at the age of eight. She’s never left my side, never gone out alone. Her social background is simple—I don’t believe she’s the murderer.”

“Well, let me go next,” said Hunter, the painter, raising his hand. “As I’ve mentioned, I’m on this train to sell my paintings.”

“Yes, you said the art exhibition in London is about to begin. You need to display your oil paintings for others to view.”

“Gil as well,” Hunter added, not forgetting his old friend. “He’s heading to London to collect his payment for manuscripts. It’s all for a living.”

Gil said nothing.

Whenever the matter of collecting payment came up, Gil grew very dissatisfied.

He admitted his talent for writing perhaps paled beside Hunter’s talent for painting.

But he earned his living through his own labor, only his reputation wasn’t as great as Hunter’s.

Still, Hunter always used this to needle him.

Gil felt deeply annoyed; he found himself wishing, wickedly, that the victim had been Hunter, not Augustine. That way he wouldn’t have to endure Hunter’s obnoxious attitude day after day.

“And what about Lady Ottilia and Mr. Hert Arnold?”

“We are heading to London to attend a noble ball,” Lady Ottilia replied, straightening her posture. For her, being invited by high society was a matter of great pride. “The event is scheduled for tonight. Damn this train malfunction—it’s ruined my plans!”

“And your husband? Is he attending the ball as well?”

The group eyed her husband’s physique skeptically.

He was quite overweight…

Clearly not a man accustomed to physical activity.

“Do you think a society ball is just for dancing?” Lady Ottilia retorted, unimpressed with the question. “We attend balls primarily to conduct business. Only a fool would believe a multi-hour banquet requires dancing from start to finish.”

The pickpocket, Mackey, had been rebuked.

Mackey bristled at Lady Ottilia’s sarcasm.

“You act as if we’ve never seen the world. Back when Basalomu and I fought in the Great War, you children were still playing in the dirt!”

“So, Mr. Mackey, you must have considerable expertise with firearms?” Tang Mu seized the opportunity to ask.

“Setting aside the train staff, among us passengers, only you and Basalomu know how to use a handgun.”

“And judging by the bullet hole in the back of the victim’s seat, the shot was fired from your direction and Basalomu’s.”

“So, Mr. Mackey, is there anything else you need to explain?”