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Personal Journal of Lieutenant Jean-Baptiste Chevalier de Lisieux
Monday–Tuesday, 12–13 July 2297
Aboard the Jean Bart, en route to Dunkelheim
The murder of Henri Valois has produced considerably less excitement aboard the Jean Bart than one might reasonably expect.
This is intentional.
Captain Vautrin has no desire to announce to several hundred passengers that one of their number has been murdered in interstellar space. Commandant Delaunay shares this opinion. First Officer Beaulieu shares it more strongly. Chief Purser Caron, I suspect, would personally throw the body out an airlock rather than allow the news to interfere with dinner service.
I exaggerate, but the point still stands.
In any case, Valois remains officially the victim of an unfortunate medical incident, and most of the ship appears willing to accept this. There are rumors, naturally. There are always rumors aboard a vessel containing rich people, alcohol, and insufficient work. Fortunately, the rumors presently concern everything from a heart attack to an illicit pharmaceutical treatment.
The truth remains confined to a relatively small circle.
Our investigation also remains confined to a relatively small circle.
Indeed, on the twelfth it remained confined almost entirely to the champagne bar.
Miss Cassart excused herself from our activities shortly after breakfast. She continues to suffer from what Doctor Okafor has described as probable spin sickness, although the symptoms seem irregular. She complained of dizziness, headache, and general malaise, and retired to her room.
Sergeant Blanc spent much of the day with Security, reviewing what records were available and making further inquiries concerning Colette Marceau.
I established myself in a central position from which his efforts could be coordinated efficiently.
Blanc later suggested that I had spent the day drinking while he did the work.
This is an enlisted man's interpretation of the burden of command.
I received reports.
I considered possibilities.
I maintained useful contact with passengers and officers.
There happened to be champagne.
One should not confuse circumstance with intent.
Our most promising evidence came from security recordings taken near Valois's quarters.
The Jean Bart is extensively monitored, though not continuously observed by human beings. Cameras cover corridors, lifts, junctions, public spaces, and major access points. Like all surveillance systems, they are excellent at recording what has already gone wrong.
Several recordings showed a blonde woman in the vicinity of Valois's suite during periods relevant to the investigation.
The image quality was not perfect. Angles were poor. We had no convenient portrait comparison produced under controlled conditions.
Nevertheless, after repeated examination, Blanc, the security personnel, and I reached the same conclusion.
The woman was almost certainly Colette Marceau.
This was troubling.
Marceau now appeared to have:
- vanished shortly after the murder;
- been present repeatedly near Valois's quarters;
- possessed legitimate access throughout the passenger sections;
- and behaved strangely in the days preceding his death.
The evidence was circumstantial.
It was also becoming difficult to ignore.
I admit some disappointment.
I had liked Marceau.
I barely knew her, of course, but what little time we had shared had proven her to be a most agreeable woman, once you cracked that cold shell of hers.
Still, murderer is no easy thing to dismiss, regardless of my personal likes.
By the evening, we were treating her as our principal suspect.
The thirteenth brought little new information.
Miss Cassart again spent much of the day in her room. She emerged briefly, looked pale, complained that the ship was excessively loud despite it being no louder than usual, then disappeared again before I could determine what she meant.
Sergeant Blanc continued the investigation.
By which I mean that he spent a considerable portion of the day drinking with Adjudant Luc Moreau.
He insists this was professional networking.
I find the argument suspiciously familiar.
Moreau is considerably more tolerable than most security personnel. He has the look of a man who expects human beings to be disappointing and therefore experiences little surprise when they are. Blanc appears to have found a kindred spirit.
Between them, they accomplished enough to avoid criticism.
As did I.
First Officer Beaulieu and I discussed our impending arrival at Dunkelheim.
On this point, at least, there was immediate agreement.
There is no reason whatsoever to involve the Germans.
Henri Valois was a French citizen. He died aboard a French vessel while that vessel was travelling through interstellar space. The investigation is being conducted under French authority. We shall shortly enter a German system, but this does not somehow transform a French murder into a German concern.
Dunkelheim is also not the jurisdiction in which I would voluntarily invite outside interference. The planet's history as a Bavarian penal colony has produced a society of great character, according to those obliged to say nice things about it. It has also produced unrest, local political peculiarities, and generations of settlers who regard regulations as negotiating positions.
I see no advantage in allowing such authorities to search a French liner, question French passengers, or develop an interest in Nicolas Ruffin's collection.
Therefore, unless circumstances force us otherwise, Valois died of natural causes as far as Dunkelheim is concerned.
The Germans may continue happily about their business.
We shall continue about ours.
It is a satisfactory arrangement.
The only obstacle is that we still have no idea where Colette Marceau is.