Friday, March 31, 2006

Murder on the Orion Express

Jan the Intergalactic Aviator and I stood looking over the body of Lucky Pierre.

"Are we sure that it was murder?" she asked. "It could've been from when we made the hyperspace jump."

I looked closer at the hole in his chest. "This doesn't look like an accident. What kind of an accident would cause Pierre to be shot in the heart during a hyperspace jump?"

"You got any experience in finding murderers?" she asked.

"I'm no detective, but I am a fan of Herculoid P'oirot. I must've read five or six of those mysteries."

"And that makes you an expert?"

"No," I answered. "But we've got to do something."

I looked around at the rest of the passengers, the businessman was angrily looking at his space phone. I walked over to him.

"Your phone doesn't work?" I ask.

"No," he said in a huff. "Something happened when we jumped, I can't make calls now. Stupid space phone."

"Does that have a camera?"

"Of course," he said proudly. "I get all of the latest gadgets."

"Then I need you to take pictures of Pierre, here," I said, indicating to the body.

"Ew," he sneered. "Who put you in charge?"

"He did." I grabbed the man by the arm and hoisted him towards the body on the floor. "Take pictures."

Jan looked up at me with a frown. "What about the crew? We haven't heard anything from them."

"You're right," I answered. Then I turned to the cameraman. "Keep taking pictures, Donald Chump."

We rushed through the door that leads to the cockpit. There was a small entryway between the cabin and the door leading to the ship's controls. Jan pushed the call button on the control panel.

"Hello?" she asked. "Hello? Is there anybody in there?"


"Hello? Can you hear me?" she said into the speaker again.

Again, there was no reply.

Jan took a small tool kit out of her cargo pocket; pulling out a sonic screwdriver, she started to work on the door.

"Do you always carry your tools everywhere you go?" I asked.

"It becomes a habit," she shrugged. "You never know when you need to fix... a problem. You always wear that hat everywhere you go?"

"Hey now," I held up a finger. Then I heard the businessman say "Ew" again.

Jan and I moved back to the cabin to take a look. The businessman had his nose crinkled up and was clutching his stomach. "Look!" he pointed to Pierre's body.

The hole in his chest had blackened. It was also beginning to open wider as if something were eating his skin. I leaned closer and even took a few cautionary sniffs.

"Molecular acid," I said. "It looks like our murderer put some on whatever killed him. It melted the evidence and half his chest."

"What do we do now?" Jan asked.

"We have less than two hours before we get to Orion," I replied cooly. "And one thing's for sure. Lucky Pierre is dead, murdered, and somebody's responsible."


Professor Xavier said...

I've read a couple of those stories too and if there's one thing I've noticed, it's always the last person you expect. That means that the murder must therefore be - Jon the Intergalactic Gladiator!

Jon the Intergalactic Gladiator said...

What? no, that's silly, why would I murder that jerk that just insulted me and my home planet? I have no motive, no motive at all. Say,what's that overthere?

*runs away*

Lori said...

Donald Chump....That's good!!!

Congrats on your 200th post...and you did it under a year...YAHOO!!!

Have a great day!!!

A Army Of (Cl)One said...

"and one thing's for sure. ...Pierre is dead, murdered, and somebody's responsible"

No that is three thing that are for sure. Also we know you look great in a hat and Hudson is as smart as a turnup.

I think this mystery is as good a solved.

(oh and we know Master Yoda like Bologna sandwichs. But why are you bringing that up, it has no bearing on this case)

Anonymous said...

the butle did it the buttler always does it

Lt. Cmdr Oneida said...

I think Jan did it, if we're going with the least likely person.

Master Yoda said...

Colonel Mustard in the kitchen with the rope, it was.

Or maybe that Murder She Wrote woman, it was. Always where she is, murders happen. Suspicious that is.

And yes, bologna sandwiches I like. Getting at what, are you? The implication I resent!

JawaJuice said...

I confess!!! I confess!!!

…I don’t know who did it!

Vegeta said...
This comment has been removed by a blog administrator.
Vegeta said...

He was murdered huh? Couldn't have happened to nicer guy. Why are you looking at me all of the sudden? I didn't do it. I was on Earth at the time.

flu said...

I hope you can find whoever's responsible...

and shake their hand.

Anonymous said...

It was the guy with the camera phone, Donald Chump.

He couldnt hear his call over Luckys Loud Mouth

Gyrobo said...

As for me, I had means, motive, and opportunity.

Wait... no I didn't.

Therefore, it was the city of Detroit, come to life.

Detroit has had a vendetta against Pierre since they were school chums.

Kristi said...

Be honest now - did you write this entire story just so you could use that blog title? ;)

Jon the Intergalactic Gladiator said...

Which Blog Title, Kristi?

Kristi said...

Murder on the Orion Express

Jon the Intergalactic Gladiator said...

Oh that?

Yeah, I kind of did.

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