First, some housekeeping.
I'm going to be in the UK for two weeks as of Mon 24 July. Among other things this means I shall be as quiet as a mouse for those two weeks (squeek) so don't get alarmed if I go silent.
Lots of train travel in my future, so let's have a train piece.
The 1930s are Britain's Golden Age of trains. Cars exist and are clearly the way of the future, but there aren't yet the roads to accommodate them. If you're going anywhere for any kind of distance, odds are you're doing it by train. Or alternatively, if you're being murdered in a picturesque way, you're doing it by train.
Agatha Christie's a premier exponent of death by choo choo. You've got the Mystery of the Blue Train, originally set aboard the Plymouth Express; the 4:50 From Paddington; and, of course, the Orient Express.
Why so train-happy? Well, it's an interesting way of setting the same old locked door problem outside the country estate, or the library. The plot might be exactly the same, but the location is exotic, interesting, and just familiar enough to be relatable without being so familiar as to be overdone.
Plus, trains have the same attraction as cruise liners: they have that element of luxury, cheek-by-jowl with the third-class passengers. The Flying Scotsman is probably the most famous steam train in the world and in its heyday was without peer. Luxury? Its first-class accommodation is as good as anything you'd find on the Orient Express. Plus, you can't beat the views all the way up to Edinburgh, non-stop from London. Eight and a half hours. That's about how long I'll spend flying to London, but I'm sure the accommodations on the Scotsman would be more comfortable.
All that said:
Flying Dead Man
Rumors circulate that a very special auction is to be held aboard the Flying Scotsman on the return leg from Edinburgh to London. The prize is [insert useful Mythos text here] but the catch is that the auctioneer is a dead man.
The deceased is Alan Laughty, a well-known bookseller from Edinburgh who, it's said, was on his way to London to negotiate the sale of his prize when he died of a heart attack while having a shave in the luxurious barbershop aboard the Scotsman. Nobody was able to find the text among his possessions, and many looked.
According to the story the auction is to be held precisely one year to the day from the date of Laughty's demise, aboard the Scotsman, in the barbershop, which will be closed off to the public for the duration of the exercise. A prominent member of [Mythos Cult] is making the arrangements and paying the bribes to make this happen. All moneys go to the widow and orphans, naturally. Presumably, if this works as intended, the book will appear at the barbershop.
First, the investigators have to score an invitation to this ghoulish little auction. Then they have to beat out the competition ...
Option One: Dead Man's Prize. Hounds who do a little digging find out that Laughty was, when he was alive, a prominent member of [Mythos Cult]. However, he was in bad odor with the Cult's hierarchy; they felt he was holding out on them, keeping some of the best items - including [Mythos text] - for himself. The prominent member of [Cult] arranged for Laughty's death but didn't realize he'd have the last laugh from beyond the grave.
Option Two: House Cleaning. [Cult] has a problem. It knows that one of its own killed Laughty. It doesn't know who, and there are three prime suspects. [Cult] arranged this little charade to flush out the killer. What [Cult] doesn't realize is the actual killer has hired the Hounds to act as their go-between. After all, reasons the killer, why risk your neck when you can risk someone else's?
Option Three: Tell No Tales. Laughty was poisoned by one of the train's staff, who wanted him dead for unrelated reasons. Now, it seems, Laughty is about to return. What to do? Good job there's still plenty of poison ... after all, the best witnesses are dead witnesses.
No comments:
Post a Comment