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Guynemer
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Now that would be a scary avatar...
errr... let me get into character...
Now zat wood be azzcary avatar.
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Jon Miller
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ljcvetko
is the mafia
based upon his last post
JM
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duke o' york
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Chapter One - Worse things happen at sea (but not many)
The first day of the cruise wasn't particularly eventful. The detectives amused themselves by playing mafia in which Sherlock Holmes managed to off most of his fellow travellers before being caught by his friend Dr Watson. The tennis planned for the day was called off because Sonny Crockett decided that tennis was a dumb sport after all and went to leer at the Egyptian women washing their clothes in the river. Beside Jim Rockford, Rasputin, Theben Wallingford III, and pretty much most of those aboard. The sharp-eyed Egyptian washerwoman may have noticed the fez of Zopperoni wobbling around in one of the portholes as he tried to jump up and stare at them too, but Geomodder made him return to washing the floor of the engine room.
At dinner, the captain invited a selection of the guests to dine with him, and announced that the progress of the Apolyton had been so good that day that he estimated arrival in Luxor in about twenty days. Which was a record for the lumbering hulk, although M. Poirot could be heard muttering that a windsurfer would arrive sooner, even against the wind. The crew were particularly pleased with this, as it meant that they would be able to take advantage of extra time off to visit the establishment of one of Pimp Daddy's "associates" before having to return to Cairo, and their date with yet another "associate".
After dinner, the party repaired to the bar, where Skanky promised them a special treat of his own making. Being the honourable gentlemen they are, Sherlock and Dr Watson invited Miss Marple and HongHu to play a rubber of bridge with them, but after a few of the mysterious green cocktails, the wormwood got to them too, and they started arguing whether Mr Bun the Baker could possibly be trumps. It was a very noisy evening, and as the Muslim crewmen sat by with their non-alcoholic refreshments, they could at least amuse themselves by Rasputin's display of traditional Russian dancing, which seemed to be like a more destructive Greek wedding than anything Russian, and left him rolling on the floor kicking his legs more often than any dancing style they had seen before. As the gentlemen formed a lengthy queue for the honour of dancing with Miss HongHu, and she had to come up with a different excuse each time to send them away, the new-fangled "jukebox" broke and none of the more sober members of the party could stop it.
In the end everybody retired to their quarters and managed to get some fitful sleep despite the unholy racket of the Charleston on repeat play, which disturbed the duck who had taken to perching atop the ship's wheelroom and many of the river's other birdlife.
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In the morning, everyone assembled for breakfast in the dining-room, but Columbo noticed that there was an empty chair. Concerned about this, he summoned the captain, and they tried to work out who was missing. Given the terrible hangovers that most of the passengers were suffering from, it was a good ten minutes before they realised that there was indeed someone missing. They went to look in cabin 27, and Dr Watson discovered the body of GhengisFarb rolled underneath the bed. Due to his medical expertise, and the presence of a pair of the standard needlework scissors, found in the drawers of every room, in his back, the good doctor announced that Sonny had been stabbed. With scissors. What looked to be about 53 times.
Needless to say, this sobered everybody up, and particularly annoyed Bulldog Drummond, who had been hoping that he could improve his topspin backhand with the help of Sonny. They returned to the dining room and the captain managed to restore order by banging Zopperoni's head against the gong in lieu of a hammer, interrupting the chatter of many detectives as they discussed possible motives and suspects.
Nuclear Master asked the passengers for suggestions: this sort of thing had never happened on his watch before, and he wasn't too keen on it happening again. He said that there was no chance of stopping the Apolyton now that it was making such good progress (well, it hadn't broken down quite yet), and the question of involving the Egyptian police was scorned by the all those aboard.
Theben Wallingford III had been inspired by the game of mafia played by the detectives the previous day, and suggested that they vote to work out who the killer was. For want of a better, or rather another, plan, this was decided upon, and they agreed to think over the matter for 24 hours and then begin voting at breakfast the next morning.
Everybody then went on their way, with several detectives heading straight for Sonny's room to look for clues, much to the delight of Zopperoni, who had been detailed the grisly cleaning-up operation by the increasingly strict Geomodder.
The clue-hunting was not particularly successful until Jim Rockford walked in, and pulled a hitherto unnoticed piece of paper out from under the bed. To be fair to the detectives, they were on holiday after all, Holmes had forgotten his magnifying glass, and the sight of many was fading, but it seemed to have been ripped from a letter in the struggle. Poirot announced that there was no point in seeking the rest of the letter because the killer had doubtless thrown it overboard when they realised it had been ripped, but on the fragment that remained could be made out three words:
coming to
Olympic
This gave them all much to think about, and they went about their way mulling over the events of the previous evening and trying to spot their co-travellers acting suspiciously.
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24 hours to vote!
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20-05-2004 07:23
Now where has that serving boy go off to? 
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