Mike Ashley - The Mammoth Book of Locked-Room Mysteries And Impossible Crimes

“And the cause?”

Ross bit his lip.

“I’d rather have the body brought out where I can make a full inspection.” He hesitated again. “Before I do, I would like my colleague, Doctor Fane, to have a look. Doctor Fane is a criminal psychologist and I have great respect for his opinion.”

Evans stared at the doctor, trying to read some deeper meaning behind his words.

“How would a criminal psychologist be able to help in this matter unless…?”

“I’d appreciate it all the same, captain. If he could just take a look?” Ross’s tone rose persuasively.

Moments later, Gerry Fane was backing out of the same toilet door and regarding his travelling companion with some seriousness.

“Curious,” he observed. The word was slowly and deliberately uttered.

“Well?” demanded Captain Evans impatiently. “What is that supposed to mean?”

Fane shrugged eloquently in the confined space.

“It means that it’s not well at all, captain,” he said with just a hint of sarcasm. “I think we should extricate the body so that my colleague here can ascertain the cause of death and then we can determine how this man came by that death.”

Evans sniffed, trying to hide his annoyance.

“I have my company’s chairman waiting on the radio, doctor. I would like to be able to tell him something more positive. I think you will understand when I tell you that he happens to know Mister Gray. Same golf club or something.”

Fane was ironic.

“ Knew , I’m afraid. Past tense. Well, you can tell your chairman that it rather looks as though his golfing partner was murdered.”

Evans was clearly shocked.

“That’s impossible. It must have been suicide.”

Hector Ross cleared his throat and looked uneasily at his friend.

“Should you go that far, old laddie?” he muttered. “After all…”

Fane was unperturbed and interrupted him in a calm decisive tone.

“Whatever the precise method of inflicting the fatal wound, I would think that you would agree that it looked pretty instantaneous. The front parts of the head, below the eyes and nose are almost blown away. Nasty. Looks like a gunshot wound to the mouth.”

Evans had recovered the power of speech. Now, as he thought about it, he realized the very point that had been puzzling him. It was his turn to be sarcastic.

“If a gun was fired in there, even one of low calibre with a body to cushion the impact of the bullet, it would have had the force to pierce the side of the aircraft causing decompression. Do you know what a bullet can do if it pierces an aircraft fuselage at thirty-six thousand feet?”

“I did not say for certain that it was a gun,” Fane maintained his gentle smile. “I said that it looked like a gunshot.”

“Even if it were a gunshot which killed him, why could it not have been a suicide?” the chief steward interrupted. “He was in a locked toilet for Chrissake! It was locked on the inside.”

Fane eyed him indulgently.

“I made a point about the instantaneous nature of the wound. I have never known a corpse to be able to get up and hide a weapon after a successful suicide bid. The man is sprawled in there dead, with a nasty mortal wound that was pretty instantaneous in causing death… and no sign of any weapon. Curious, isn’t it?”

Evans stared at him in disbelief.

“That’s ridiculous…” There was no conviction in his voice. “You can’t be serious? The weapon must be hidden behind the door or somewhere.”

Fane did not bother to reply.

“But,” Evans plunged on desperately, knowing that Fane had articulated the very thing that had been worrying him; the missing weapon. “Are you saying that Gray was killed and then placed in the toilet?”

Fane shook his head firmly.

“More complicated than that, I’m afraid. Judging from the blood splayed out from the wound, staining the walls of the cubicle, he was already in the toilet when he was killed and with the door locked from the inside, according to your chief steward there.”

Jeff Ryder stirred uncomfortably.

“The door was locked from the inside,” he confirmed, defensively.

“Then how…?” began Evans.

“That is something we must figure out. Captain, I have no wish to usurp any authority but, if I might make a suggestion…?”

Evans did not answer. He was still contemplating the impossibility of what Fane had suggested.

“Captain…?”

“Yes? Sorry, what did you say?”

“If I might make a suggestion? While Hector does a preliminary examination to see if we can discover the cause of death, will you allow me to question Gray’s colleague and then we might discover the why as well as the how?”

Evans lips compressed thoughtfully.

“I don’t feel that I have the authority. I’ll have to speak to the chairman of the company.”

“As soon as possible, captain. We’ll wait here,” Fane replied calmly. “While we are waiting, Doctor Ross and I will get the body out of the toilet.”

Hardly any time passed before Moss Evans returned. By then Ross and Fane had been able to remove the body of Kinloch Gray from the toilet and lay it in the area between the bulkhead and front row of the premier class seats. Evans cleared his throat awkwardly.

“Doctor Fane. My chairman has given you full permission to act as you see fit in this matter… until the aircraft lands, that is. Then, of course, you must hand over matters to the local police authority.” He shrugged and added, as if some explanation were necessary: “It seems that my chairman has heard of your reputation as a… a criminologist? He is happy to leave the matter in the hands of Doctor Ross and yourself.”

Fane inclined his head gravely.

“Will you be diverting the aircraft?” he asked.

“My chairman has ordered us to continue to our point of destination, doctor. As the man is dead, it is pointless to divert in search of any medical assistance.”

“Good. Then we have over three hours to sort this out. Can your steward provide me with a corner where I can speak with Gray’s colleague? She tells me that he is his personal secretary. I want a word without causing alarm to other passengers?”

“See to it, Jeff,” Captain Evans ordered the chief steward. He glanced at Fane. “Don’t they say that murder is usually committed by someone known to the victim? Doesn’t that make this secretary the prime suspect? Or will every passenger have to be checked out to see if they have some connection with Gray?”

Fane smiled broadly.

“I often find that you cannot make general rules in these matters.”

Evans shrugged.

“If it helps, I could put out an address asking all passengers to return to their seats and put on their seat belts. I could say that we are expecting turbulence. It would save any curious souls from trying to enter this area.”

“That would be most helpful, captain,” Hector Ross assured him, looking up from his position by the corpse.

Evans hesitated a moment more.

“I am going back to the flight deck. Keep me informed of any developments.”

Within a few minutes of Evans leaving, there came the sound of raised voices. Fane looked up to see the stewardess, Sally Beech, trying her best to prevent a young man from moving forward towards them. The young man was very determined.

“I tell you that I work for him.” His voice was raised in protest. “I have a right to be here.”

“You are in tourist class sir. You have no right to be here in premier class.”

“If something has happened to Mister Gray then I demand…”

Fane moved quickly forward. The young man was tall, well-spoken, and, Fane observed, his handsome looks were aided by a tan which came from a lamp rather than the sun. He was immaculately dressed. He sported a gold signet ring on his slim tapering fingers. Fane had a habit of noticing hands. He felt much could be told about a person from their hands and how they kept their fingernails. This young man obviously paid a great deal of attention to maintaining well manicured nails.