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Orient Express - East of Stuttgart

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Estella winced a little as she saw the expression on Leo's face upon rising. She hadn't meant to catch him in the crossfire of her annoyance, but he was gone before she could make a proper apology. Besides, she couldn't exactly have said, "Oh no darling, feel free to stay and watch me change, I don't mind." Actually she wouldn't have minded one bit--she rather liked the way those dark eyes of his watched her--but suppose Aleks should knock on her door and catch her in an indelicate situation? She needed to stay in his good graces more than ever now.

Once she was alone she helped herself to another nip from the silver flask in her valise, then took her time in preparing. A bath would have been divine, but even the Orient Express in all its luxury lacked that one particular facility. Instead she splashed her face with a bit of water from the tiny sink and started her makeup fresh, followed by a change of clothes that were of a more professional cut. By the time she had finished it was nearly noon, and she was ready to face the press.

Strolling back into the Lounge, she glanced towards the table where she thought she had seen Weber sitting in the morning. Either she was mistaken or he was attending to business elsewhere, which gave her time to order a martini that the bar. She was about to sit down to wait for the reporter, when glancing across the room she caught sight of Leo, trying very hard not to be seen. While her first instinct was to join the businessman, Estella couldn't help but think he might still be a little peeved at her for going off at him and Jane in her compartment.

So instead she merely raised her drink to him and smiled, but turned away to scan the room for Weber again. Leo would speak with her if he wanted to, and if he didn't...well, she had other business to attend to anyway.
 

Fritz had indeed been tending to other business but he did make it to the Lounge Car in time for his interview with Estella. But once his eyes fixed upon the lovely actress, she had his full attention once again. "Mademoiselle Devereaux, I'm so pleased that you could join me for an interview." He said politely, his German accent struggling with the French greeting but he was certainly making an effort to make her feel not only at ease, but as a shinning star in the eyes of the press. He gestured towards an open table and pulled out a chair for the beautiful starlet.

Once they were both seated he again presented to playbill he had asked her to sign earlier along with a pen. He opened his reporters notebook and looked at his list of questions but then closed it again. "If I may say, off the record of course, how much of a fan I am. Forgive my lack of professionalism and objectivity but it is just so hard to focus in your presence." He ordered a drink for himself and another martini for Estella and continued some small talk.

Eventually he returned to his notebook, asking a handful of questions regarding her favorite venues in Europe and the States, her plans for her next shows, and the chances of her performing in Germany any time soon.

He had just asked about her wardrobe choices and made a few notes in his book and then out of nowhere added a comment. "Senator Colman sends his regards.' His eyes focused upon hers for the briefest moment of recognition in case she hadn't quite believe what she just heard. He then inquired about any new music she might be considering as if his previous comment was something she had imagined. There wasn't any pre-arranged code words for her to expect such a contact, her involvement with the Senator wasn't exactly common knowledge, certainly not in the press.

"Cigarette?" He asked as he took a pause from the questions and offered one to her from his modest case and took one for himself then presented his lighter for her. He leaned back in his chair, closing his notebook as if signaling their interview was nearing its completion. "I would invite you to my compartment for a more, intimate discussion, but alas poor reporters do not merit the luxury of private compartments." If she were ready to take his bait, it would have to be in her compartment, unless she was not interested in whatever news this man might have from her powerful benefactor.
 

Leo traced the lip of his glass with a finger as he wiled away the hours. He didn't want to be around the wrong people and he didn't want to be alone. No, what he wanted was to be standing outside old Mr. Weinstein's bakery, counting his pennies and contemplating a bagel with lox. He missed those days, before education, class warfare, and war in general had permeated every pore of his being and defined his days. He longed for the press of lips on lips and a night where the pond frogs sounds drowned out the city.

He sipped at his drink and raised his eyes in time to see Estella stride in, her body neatly encased in a sharply cut skirt suit. She looked every bit the movie star, and he could not believe that a few hours ago she had thrown herself into his lap and given him the most delightful kiss he had experienced in a long, long time. He raised his glass at her in return to her smile, nodded slowly, and slid his gaze away. It was better for them both if they stayed apart. Safer for her too; if she could escape with Aleks…well, she should. Anywhere but here.

He had not seen that dapper Mr. Walsh, nor a few others in a while. There had been that woman in those large spectacles. Had that been the same woman who was murdered? He did not remember – in truth he had not paid attention to the others in the cars. Well, he was paying attention now, noting who was talking to whom, who seemed at ease, and who, like he, was acting like they were restless.

A moment later he saw that German reporter come in, and not long after that, the wide-faced man was seated with Estella. Leo watched them in the window's reflection, pulling another cigarette out to keep him company as he kept silent sentry over the woman who wanted to be a star.
 
Name: Jane Marple
Location: Lounge Car
@xavierrol

Having walked almost the full length of the public carriages of the train Jane was about to give up on finding either of the two people she was looking for, Walsh and the spectacled woman who seemed to appear everywhere, except when one looked for her specifically. It was curious and Jane was starting to worry a bit about the safety of Walsh. The one possibility that was left to explain both their absences was that the spectacled woman had lured Walsh into her own compartment and was continuing to play her game of deception away from prying eyes and ears, perhaps also engaging in a game of seduction to further convince him of her fake identity. This perhaps worried Jane even more because it would mean that whether they trusted him or not back ad S.I.S headquarters or not his mission would be compromised and it would be up to her to stop him from bringing the false document to the British embassy in Istanbul. It seemed that her list of things to do kept getting longer with each passing hour.

"Lady Eyelesbarrow, perhaps you would join me for a few moments?
It was the Gestapo officer from before. The one who would have had to board the train just before the dead woman had been discovered, sometime during the night. It seemed a very timely coincidence, almost as if the murder had been expected and the German government needed someone onboard to cover up the real identity of the victim as well as the motive of the murder, which Jane was now certain had everything to do with the spectacled woman, and possibly related to Estella's briefcase as well.

She stopped and looked the uniformed German officer up and down for a while, noticing the slight discrepancy between his smile and his overall demeanour. Perhaps Reinhard MΓΌller had once been a decent man who go caught up in the whirlwind of nationalsocialism because of the miserable conditions Germany had been left with after the peace treaty at Versailles, lured in by a most charismatic leader making promises about rebuilding Germany, against the stipulations of said treaty, and restoring it to its former glory. He was sure to have questions about the goings on during the night and probably a few other things as well. She was confident in her cover though and had no reason to suspect it had been blown, even Walsh, should they have gotten to him first, knew her as anyone other than Jane Eyelesbarrow. It might also be a good opportunity to find out what he knew from the questions he would ask.
"Herr MΓΌller," she replied calmly if perhaps a bit coldly and accepted the chair offered to her by him.
 
It may have been the lack of fear in her eyes that distinguished the lady so much from those Reinhard MΓΌller normally associated with these last few years. That confidence shone like a beacon in the gloom, though the Nazi SturmbannfΓΌhrer was very much a creature of that gloom. He would be an unlikely moth to her flame, instead more likely to want to snuff it out, but he was curious and drawn to her.

He was somewhat taken aback by her pause, having become accustomed to near instant obedience from those around him. He even gave a small snort of a laugh as if to try and ease the tension which seemed to affect him more than the woman before him. Her eyes seemed to peer more deeply than most as if she were measuring his worth. The nature of the Nazi movement and his role in it, made him nearly immune to such scrutiny. Even most of his direct superiors feared him as few felt truly safe in the Reich from men like him.

He ignored her lack of using his proper rank, a simple enough thing and she was quite likely unaccustomed to the rank structure of a para military organization, or so he surmised. Her coldness came through well enough though but in the end she had complied with his wishes. As she sat he slid her chair beneath her, still retaining some measure of manners from the days when Germany was a civilized if still somewhat militarized society.

"I have no reason of suspecting you in any of the unpleasantness of the morning's events, however as a matter or routine, I am questioning everyone in the carriage where the murder took place." His preamble meant to put her at ease whether for her benefit or to get her to let her guard down. "So if you have heard or witnessed anything, unusual, I would appreciate your cooperation so we can bring the culprit to justice." His English was decent with a slightly more American than British dialect as if he had perhaps lived or studied in the States for some time.

"Are you traveling alone?" He asked, his eyes moving to her fingers as if the confirm the lack of a wedding band. "Have you met anyone of...significance, so far on your journey?" His questions had at least a veneer of relevance, but also had a tinge of a school boy inquiring about a girl he might have a crush upon.
 
Mr. Weber appeared just as the clock behind the bar was striking twelve, and Estella offered him a dazzling smile in greeting as they sat down at a quiet table by the window.

Now this was something she knew how to handle: lauding the local venues, coyly deflecting questions about past romances with musicians and bandleaders, hinting at future projects that were nothing more than a pipe dream, and of course promoting her upcoming engagement in Istanbul. "I've never been before, but I heard the club puts on quite a show," she commented as she popped the olive from her martini between her lips. "I've been looking forward to it immensely. I've even been working on a few new numbers right here on the train." Well, that had been her intention at least, before events went to shit.

She was in the middle of detailing the make and model of her current outfit (Chanel, albeit a few years old), when a muttered comment under Mr. Weber's breath gave the singer pause.

Senator Colman sends his regards.

The smile on her face was gone, the glittering light in her eyes utterly extinguished. The expression she fixed on the reporter's face was a mixture of astonishment, insult, and fear. Here? John even had Germans on his payroll? Good god, the man was a spider, constantly spinning a web that would cover the whole world if given enough time.

Estella took a shuddery breath and tried to smile. Maybe she was overthinking things. Lots of people knew she had connections to John Colman. It had been all over the gossip rags in New York more than ten years ago, but the scandal hadn't lasted longer than any other love affair. Sleeping with a senator was great and all, but not too helpful if you wanted to be a movie star. Soon Estella Devereaux was spotted on the arm of this director, or this producer, and the Colman affair was utterly forgotten to the waking world.

But not to Estella. The affair had only been the beginning.

Weber had continued on with the interview as though nothing had happened. Her answers to his questions came automatically and unemphatically, and the singer seemed grateful when she accepted the reporter's cigarette. His unspoken request for a more private audience, however...

She exhaled a small puff of smoke, aimed just far enough away not to blow directly in his face, but near enough to get the point across. "I'm afraid my compartment isn't as private one might hope either, Mr. Weber. People have a nasty habit of popping in to visit at the most inconvenient times." She wasn't just thinking of Jane now, but the cold-eyed Nazi officer, and the snooping chambermaid as well. Estella also wasn't wholly convinced someone might not be ready to listen at the door or though the thin walls either. "But...if you do have some juicy gossip, as I know you newspaper men always do, I'd certainly like to hear it."

Tapping her ash into the glass tray, the singer rose to her feet. "What would you say to a nice little stroll, Mr. Weber? Let's see where the day takes us. Perhaps we can even find a place to have a friendly little chat. Off the record, of course." The singer tipped him one of her famous conspiratorial winks, but her hands were still twitching just a little as she glanced towards the door.
 
Fritz was mesmerized by the sparkling personality of his favorite night club singer, He was particularly delighted with the way she seemed to throw herself into the interview, despite or perhaps because of, the underlying stress only some of which he could imagine.

Estella was clearly in her element and Fritz genuinely enjoyed their conversation. He was even able to relate several of her shows that he had attended in person, making it a more personal connection between them. He hung on her every word and almost dreaded the name drop but it was unavoidable.

It broke his heart how it seemed to take the wind from beneath her wings but he at least tried to keep up the enthusiasm on his end. He did his best to spark some life back into her for her own sake and to not draw attention to them.

The cigarette was as much a life ring thrown to her as it was a courtesy. As if to give her a break from having to talk and to collect her thoughts for a moment. He frowned at her reaction, the smoke blown his way. He probably should have asked for the private conversation before dropping the Senator's name but he couldn't take the risk that she would have simply declined him and then avoided him the rest of the trip.

"That is, unfortunate." He said, crestfallen as he had hoped for something more from her than either of his assignments required but those prospects were beginning to look unlikely.

He smiled at her talk of gossip, nodding at her willingness to listen, and rose to his feet along with the singer. "Well that is my stock and trade, I'd love to go for a stroll." He said as he offered her his arm as if they were about to go for a stroll.

"Which way?" He asked, thinking that there was likely a piano in the first class lounge but that would be less conductive to their business. Whichever direction they headed, when they were in the small alcove between cars he would pull her close, turn to face her, his free hand at her waist. "I really am a fan, I meant every word back there." He said, looking her in the eyes. "I hated to even bring up the other business, but the Senator thought you might need a friend." He said, hoping to reassure her and put her more at ease.

God she was beautiful. He thought to himself, wishing he were bold enough to try to kiss her, but knowing it would probably just scare her all the more.
 
Estella gratefully accepted the proffered arm, quite sure the solidly-built German would have no trouble supporting her if she had another unfortunate fainting spell. Perhaps she ought to have been suspicious of anyone with a Teutonic background: no doubt several of the others on the train would have been. But listening to Weber's chatter reminded her of the good old days in Berlin, dancing at the El Dorado and singing in the long lost cabarets crushed under fascist boots. She didn't exactly recognize the journalist's face from back then, but when compared to the icy gaze of the blond official in the baggage car Estella suspected this particular German might have enjoyed the Weimar days a bit more than the current atmosphere.

"Not that way," she insisted as she followed his glance towards the First Class Cars. Too many passengers there that would recognize her; possibly too many officials as well. Weber seemed like a nice guy, she hardly wanted to implicate him...but oh. His hand was on her hip now, and there was a certain gleam in his eye that was all too familiar to the singer. Her body tensed a moment, trying to sense out his motives. Was he really just a fan, possibly looking for a reason to brag to his buddies back home? Or was this yet another Nazi trick, trying to get her to spill the beans about something she shouldn't?

It was the mention of Colman's name that was giving her pause. Of course the Germans would know about guys like Hoover and Wilson, and probably some higher ups in the military, maybe even a cabinet member or two. But a sixty-year-old senator from New York who only sat on the most boring committees and did most of his politicking on the golf course? It didn't seem likely, and if it was, well then the U.S. really was fucked.

The singer took a deep breath as she made her decision, then smiled and leaned forward. To anyone who might interrupt them, it looked liked Estella Devereaux was locked in a romantic rendezvous with yet another man, a sight that was quickly becoming mundane on the Orient Express. She brought her lips seductively near Weber's ear, and rested a hand lightly on his chest.

"So what does Johnny boy have to say then?" she murmured, grinning as though she'd said something naughty. "Is he sending a knight on a white horse with a tommy gun to get me outta this mess, or what?"
 
Count Aleksander and Leopold Bordeaux
Lounge Car
@xavierrol @MsBloom @Traveler @Shiva the Cat

*****​
Count Aleksander was well and truly not having the finest day of his life or career. The man had allowed himself to baited by the Nazi, frustrating as that was. This whole thing was a damn morass and he was no longer certain who to trust. Aleksander, or "Aleks" as Estella had affectionately nicknamed him...he was at the end of his rope, a hard frown on his face as he punched the wall, just enough so it might hurt his hand and prove his frustration. The throb in his hand brought him back to reality, all while he kept his lips pursed grimly...

TOo much to consider and everything he had not wanted to recall or discuss had welled up thanks to that Nazi bastard. He was of a mind to find Estella, check on her...where was she now? What was she telling the truth or lying about? What could-

"I say, old sport, you look a proper fright!" The voice was cheerful and heavily accepted, the handsome man with short blond hair and blue eyes walking out, cognac in hand. "Reiny was just givin' ya the rundown, was he? I swear, that man is simply not a people person."

"I beg your- "

"Leopold Bordeaux is the man, my friend, former constable in Louisiana. New Orleans about, or NAWLINS as we are expected to say." The man extended a hand, Aleksander taking and pumping it quickly while Leopold Bordeaux simply nodded. "Proper shame 'bout that lady. But then it's certainly lit a fire under all the fellas about here."

"Are they interrogating everyone?"

"Seems to be the preferred course of action when ya get right down to it," Leopold added. "Ain't the first closed murder investigation I've seen. Shame they ain't lettin' me help overmuch. Well, if it's anything, there's two fellas on this train I'm pretty sure are innocent. One of 'em's me. The other might well be you."

Aleksander was slightly taken aback by that. "And what makes you think that?"

"Well, my friend, judging by time of death versus the point I saw you in the lounge the other night...it just wouldn't make sense. That and the fact Reiny just pulled one on ya without you bustin' down...let's just say I think something or somethin' else might be up around here...." He folded his arms. "So what I propose is takin' a gander all about and doing y work. Cuz just between you an' me? I don't trust the Germans here, either. Now, I got nothin' against the long and illustrious career of von Bismarck's countrymen, but these fascists sure don't bode well for the longterm prospects of the world if ya catch my meanin'."

"Yes, I have seen very similar before," Aleksander remarked, still a bit mystified by this. He recalled Charles Walsh and his oddly friendly demeanor, Janes Eyelsbarrow...and Estella...

He wasn't even sure if he could trust this man. But what the hell. "And obviously, we're in this to our necks."

"Poor choice'a words, considerin' the poor lady's departure from this mortal coil, but ayep. Best go find your lady friend. Have a feelin' there's more'n meets the eye to all this...what I recommend? Look into the lady herself. We might find a secret or two there..."

"Do you mean Eyelsbarrow, Deveraux...or the victim?"

"Yep," were the last things Leopold Bordeaux said before he turned to depart.
 
With the lovely American singer on his arm like a trophy, Fritz was happy to go in whatever direction the lady desired. Her resistance to the first class car might indicate her overall anxiety, or perhaps just a desire to not be seen 'slumming' with a less polished man that she was accustomed. It hurt a little to think that but Fritz wasn't going to let it get him down, not now that he had her attention and the beginnings of cooperation.

The reporter was a solid fellow as Estella would realize as she gripped his arm, more than solid enough to hold her frail frame if she were to faint. He did enjoy the way she devoured his attention and adoration, she was hardly the first performer he had seen desperate for such attention, especially as their star was dimming in the ever changing constellation of public opinion. While the reporter didn't need the confirmation of her next tour to realize Ms. Deveraux's chance for a big break were running out, she still had a glamour that appealed, at least to him.

When they were alone between cars, he felt her tense at his more intimate posture. She didn't reject him outright, but she was hardly melting into his embrace. Was she simply humoring him for his information? That was one of the problems with trying to seduce an actress, or a spy, one never quite knew where they stood with them.

But the warmth of her breath on his ear sent an erotic shiver through his stocky body. His hand left the comfort of her hip the slip behind her to the small of her back where he pulled her hips in contact with his. The man's arousal would not likely go unnoticed, reinforced by the sensation of her breasts being pressed between them.

"He is desperately concerned for your safety." He told her as his eyes met hers and he fought his urge to kiss her but he did have a message to convey but it wasn't the one she wanted to hear. He wasn't as adept at mixing business with pleasure as those who made their living in the trade or protection of state secrets. He was severely distracted by Estella's physical presence and his own infatuation. His response was as much his own wishful thinking as anything else.

"I'm afraid I don't have a Tommy gun or a white horse." He whispered back to her, his lips now near her ear as he continued to press her into his body. The lover's embrace made for a perfect excuse to be where they were and he was in no hurry to have to leave. "But if you tell me of your danger, I will do what I can to protect you."

He felt bad for using her desperation in this way, but it was likely for her own good as he couldn't begin to try and protect her if he didn't know all the threats. He was also in no hurry, his other arm snaking behind her until they were in a full embrace, rubbing his body against hers as if they were long lost lovers. He didn't need to act to show his desire for her, it was as natural as his accent. "But you should probably kiss me first, just to keep up appearances." He said, with a somewhat embarrassed smile, Estella was the most beautiful woman he had ever been this close to, and he couldn't help but enjoy the experience.
 
Estella wasn't surprised at the German getting handsy with her; men were men after all, no matter what country they were from. At least she was relatively sure this one didn't want her dead, and considering he might have been her only safe ticket out of the Reich she was content to let him do as he wished. Besides, there was something genuinely sweet in that round face of his as he tried, with valiant effort and minimal outcome, to comfort the damsel in distress.

"He is desperately concerned for your safety," Weber assured her, but the singer only snorted in response.

"Yeah, real concerned, I'm sure," she replied in a voice dripping with sarcasm. Her fingers slowly began to walk up the journalist's chest, tapping playfully against his lips while her eyes glittered behind an empty smile. "So concerned he put me on a train to Istanbul rather than a boat to New York. Makes me think Big Daddy is more 'concerned' about my day job than the you-know-what." Surely if Weber knew who she was and who she worked for, he must have at least known a little bit about what she carried? Or rather, what was now scattered in pieces throughout the train for safekeeping.

Still, either through lust, fantasy, or a surprisingly selfless and stupid sense of honor, the journalist seemed determined to protect her. Again, a sweet gesture, but a dumb one. Pressed up against him as she was, Estella couldn't feel any hidden firearms on his person, and while his hands looked like they could throw an okay punch, the shy look on his face when he asked for a kiss told her he probably had never hit someone in his life. He reminded her of Oscar Leibowitz back in Brooklyn, the grocer's son who waited outside her door every morning to carry her books to school in exchange for nothing more than a smile. Estella had turned him down for dates a thousand times, even kissed other boys in front of him, but every morning there was Oscar, loyal as always. She wondered what had ever become of him.

In Weber's defense though, he at least did have the chutzpah to ask the singer for a kiss, contrived as it was. "So even you have a price, hm Fritzi?" Estella replied, but granted his request all the same. The kiss was brief and passionless on her part, but not unpleasant. When she pulled away, the singer still kept her arms draped around the reporter's neck, fingers running lightly through his hair. "Maybe you'll get more if you really can keep me safe. There's at least one British spy on this train determined to fuck things up for me. That woman who dragged me away this morning. Jane Eyelesbarrow."

Even now she couldn't keep from shivering a little at the mention of the woman. "She knows what I've got and what I'm doing, and while she says we're on the same side she's awful determined to interfere with matters. I think she just wants some glory for herself, but I don't know..." Estella sighed, then rested her head gently on Weber's shoulder. "And then of course there's that blue-eyed bastard rounding everyone up for interrogations. You can imagine why I'm scared of him."

Her body tensed suddenly as a realization dawned on her. She believed Weber was on Colman's payroll. That was all well and good, but how much had Colman told the reporter about her?

Had he told him her real name?

She suddenly broke free of her arms and stepped away, watching Weber with cautious eyes. No way was Weber himself Jewish, not if he still had a job with Jugend. Even if his sympathy was genuine, he was putting himself at incredible risk by canoodling with her in such a public way. And if he was in favor of the Nuremberg Laws, then he might feel a little bit differently about helping her, Colman or no Colman

Estella swallowed hard, trying to collect herself. After glancing around to ensure they wouldn't be overheard, she leaned in close again. "Can you get a message to him? Colman?"
 
It was clear from her response that whatever influence the Senator might have over the dark haired beauty, she was not particularly happy with him at the moment. But something told him that if she did not consider herself in desperate straights, she would not be so welcoming to his embrace and advances. This was the caliber of woman who would not typically look twice at a man like him, let alone allow herself to be held so intimately. Though he knew little of the habit she was making of being intimate with men for the short time she had been on the Orient Express.

He gave her a slightly puzzled look. "Forgive me but, my English is sometimes short when it comes to American slang. What is this 'day job' you speak of?" He asked, hoping to deflect his less than thorough knowledge of her assignment with a lack of colloquial English. But it was indeed the briefcase he sought though not to take possession of it, but to make sure it got into the right hands, at least from his perspective. He smiled as he fingers touched his lips, her empty smile still beautiful and alluring. His lips kissed her finger though his eyes longed for her full red lips.

"You would have found yourself in Scotland Yard before you set foot on a boat headed for the USA." He said softly to her, wanting her to know that there was some design to her current predicament. The British had a highly capable police force but even they couldn't search for her everywhere and her fleeing deeper into Europe seemed the least anticipated path for her. She might be a pawn on Colman's chess board but one he wasn't yet ready to lose, or at least that was the impression he would use to give her some hope, in him at least. It might not be the God's honest truth, but he had already determined she had been selected for talents other than her detective work.

He blushed slightly at her accusation of having a 'price', but he was certain she had done more for less in her career. The kiss may have been trivial to the singer, but the reporter felt a rare thrill as her lips pressed to his for the briefest of moments. But her promise of more held his attention, especially the way she ran her fingers through his hair as she spoke. But he was pulled back to the business at hand as Estella named a British spy. "You know this?" He said, perhaps a bit too urgently but quickly collected his thoughts. "She should be, avoided." He said, pointing out what was already obvious to the singer but at least reaffirming her judgement and showing support. He felt the shiver run through her body and used it as pretense to run his arms up and down her back and pull her closer to him. She felt like a goddess and he was beginning to literally ache for her.

He enjoyed the feel of her head on his shoulder, how she was so desperate for protection and comfort. She mentioned who could only be the Gestapo officer investigating a murder. "Why should you fear him, you are not a suspect in this murder are you?" His emphasis on the recent murder indicating he knew of her being a person of interest in the London murder. "Nor are you a Jew." He said a bit too certain for how little he knew of her, he was not nearly the actor that Estella or even Jane were. But her reaction suggested otherwise, on at least one of those points.

Her sudden distance broke the spell he had been under, the way she pulled away from him suspiciously. It gave him a moment to think with the head on his shoulders rather than the one in his pants. "I might." He said, his voice non-committal as if he were weighing the risks and benefits of helping her beyond the scope of his employment. The way she had pulled away had cooled his passion and his incentive to take risks. He had the means however. As a journalist, it wouldn't raise suspicion if he were to drop a message at one of the lesser stations where there was a telegraph. The train wouldn't stop but it wasn't unusual for a weighted bag to be dropped with priority messages for the telegraph such as breaking news or a teaser for a more in depth report. It would be easy enough to drop a few lines about an upcoming article involving the singer. He only needed sufficient motivation and a clever enough message to be understood by just the right people.
 
Name: Jane Marple
Location: Lounge Car
@xavierrol

"Did I hear or witness anything unusual the previous night?"
The truth was she had not, unless of course you counted the whole business with the briefcase that was and a few more or less odd couplings. This bothered her to some extent. Someone, possibly an enemy agent, had committed a murder a few doors down from where she had been engaged in sex with Estella, and probably while the two were entwined in lust-filled embraces., without her noticing anything. Then again nothing could really be said against her for it. The murder had happened quietly.

She took out a cigarette and lit it not waiting for the officer to offer her a match, took a deep inhale and pulled casually at a crease in her trousers.
"There was a brief disturbance in one of the compartments a few doors down from mine," she said calmly, referring of course to the noises she and Estella had made which had at breakfast been defined as just that, a disturbance in the night.
But what if it wasn't Estella and herself Leo had been referring to. What if it actually was the murder he had heard. This was worth considering she concluded and she would ask him about it when she had the chance.

"Yes. I am travelling alone," she answered his next question and then as he asked her whether or not she had met anyone of significance she shrugged ever so subtly.
"Oh just the usual crowd one finds on trains," she said and smiled.
"A handsome little artiste from the Americas working the Cabarets of Europe when she couldn't become the next Greta Garbo. I am quite confident that you know the type. Then of course you have the East-European aristocracy left with nothing after the great war rearranged the maps rather extensively, as I am sure you are well aware. A few business men travelling well above their station from one end of Europe to the other."
She took a drag on the cigarette again and made a face
"No one really that stands out in my mind."

She looked out the window and tilted her head to the side as if having seen something interesting but in fact she was considering whether or not the Gestapo officer in front of her knew anything about the spectacled woman or even about where Walsh might have disappeared to. Her conclusions was that he probably knew about the latter but not the former.
"One never knows these days though, does one?" she added and turned her head towards the doors where the shapely blonde she had run into earlier appeared looking around before her eyes came to rest on the officer.
"I think your lunch date has arrived Herr MΓΌller. If there was nothing else?"
Jane crushed her cigarette in the ashtray and stood up.
 

Leo kept a low profile as he watched the goings on in the car. He kept an eye on Estella, though she seemed quite capable of taking care of herself. He watched the play of her emotions from afar and thought that it must be nice to be so admired. Obviously the reporter was smitten with her, and when he glanced back, then saw them getting up to leave, together, he felt bile rising up in his throat.

At least she wasn't a suspect in the murder, right? And with a German admirer at her side, perhaps the actress was going to be safe.

He briefly saw Aleks speaking to some American and as they seemed quite engaged with each other, Leo thought it was high time he skipped town, or at least the lounge. He slid his cup to the center of the table, stood, and straightened his jacket before making his way out the compartment towards the first-class lounge. It was nearing lunch, and people were beginning to gather, but he had no appetite for anything aside from fresh air and pulling out of the last stop in Germany when he would feel like he was safer on the train.

Every German he saw was a potential threat. Leo kept his head down, his pace steady, and tried not to look like he was in a hurry as he walked towards his room.

Once inside, he leaned against the door. The lock still needed fixing. It was a minor irritation that seemed much increased because of the murder next door. Once his heart slowed enough that he did not feel like it would jump from his throat, he hanged up his jacket and tie, rolled up his sleeves, and sat down to get to work, thinking that contracts would help ease his mind.

It did not.

About an hour later he gave up. Leo sighed. The room felt stuffy. He slid the windows open a crack, then removed his shoes and laid down. By the time he had fallen asleep, he had counted the tiles in he ceiling fourteen times, and played mind games with the shadows. Munich, Vienna, Budapest…he could make it. Just a little further. Friday morning they'd be free.
 
Weber had a point about fleeing directly from London. Estella had barely escaped as it was, down the Savoy fire escape and half naked at that. How she'd ever managed to grab her bags from her own hotel and make it onto the ship to Calais she'd never know, and ever since then it had been nothing but looking over her shoulder. "Still woulda been nice to go on the Majestic again," she muttered under her breath, shrugging the lost opportunity away into the ether.

What couldn't be so easily shaken off was her comment about the officer. Weber's gaze was still guileless and innocent, and if he doubted the singer's character it certainly wasn't visible on his face. Estella giggled a little as she tried to think of a lie. "Well you see, he caught me and another fella having a...conversation...in the baggage car. Another fan, you know how it goes," she added with a wink, pressing her body a little more firmly against the journalist's. "Anyway, that fella in the uniform didn't like it too much. Dunno if he was jealous or what, but he got real handsy and made some comments to me that are makin' me real nervous. Not everyone's a gentleman like you, Fritzi."

Estella raised her hand a little and smoothed down his hair. "It wouldn't surprise me if that sonofabitch made up some charges on me just to get me alone and at his mercy, you know? So if there's any strings you can pull to keep him off my back I'd be real grateful to you. Honest." She held up her fingers in parody of a scout's salute before pressing her lips lightly to his cheek, leaving a faint hint of her lipstick behind.

The gesture must have done some good at least, since Weber said he might be able to get a message back to Colman. In an ironic twist of fate however, Estella's mind went completely blank about what in the world she would say to the man. Fuck you was the first phrase that came to mind, but it was hardly productive. Nor were the tempting threats that she would spill the beans about his collections of other musicians and actors scattered across Europe, putting their own necks on the line to do his dirty work. For a moment, she did consider insisting he notify her about Eli's release from prison before she followed anymore orders, but again, what weight could she put behind such a threat? If Estella didn't go along with the Senator's orders she'd never get home, and neither would her brother.

"Tell him," she said finally, snuggling close to Weber again and whispering in his ear. "Tell him I want my engagement at Club Maxim to be a limited one. A real limited one. One-night only. After that, I'll do all the singing he wants as long as it's on a ship headed stateside, and beyond that I'm all his."

She paused a moment, suddenly recalling something she'd said to Leo that morning. "And tell him I've got a friend I want to bring home. An American citizen. All above the board, he just needs a ticket back." The singer doubted Colman would be willing to extend such a favor for a man he'd never met, but the bastard had all the money in the world. As long as Leo's papers were in order, what was the harm?

Satisfied with the message, Estella stepped back and patted Weber good naturedly on the cheek, just where her kiss mark lingered. "I think that should just about cover things, don't you Fri--"

The door suddenly opened, and the singer paled. "I mean, Mr. Weber?" Her graceful neck turned, as though she was just now noticing the new arrival. "Your Excellency, there you are!" she greeted Aleks in a voice that was much too cheerful to be natural. "I was wondering where you'd gotten to. Have you met my dear, dear friend from the Jugend, Fritz Weber? Mr. Weber, this is Count Aleksander Janos Zelenski von Krolock, a very esteemed gentleman of my acquaintance."

She took a step back to let the men make their introductions, praying neither would inquire too much about the other's relationship to the singer.
 
Count Aleksander
Between Cars
@xavierrol @Shiva the Cat ​
@Traveler

​
There he was, with little idea what to do next. The former soldier, the count, the spy...having just met a mysterious American. This train had a bizarre amount of layers to it. One after the next, with no telling when it all may end. It was exhausting, he thought with a frustrated edge to his mind. He thoguht of Estella and Jane, what he knew of both of them. he thought of Leo Benjamin and what he knew of the man...to little avail, he thought with a dark frown to his mind...

And the Nazi. He wanted the Nazi dead. He was making his way down, his hands behind his back, trying not to let Muller get to him. That Nazi scum, dredging up his past, with a murder here...but this murder, he thought...this murder, what could it mean? Was it just a random crime? No, of course not. Mr. Bordeaux had made that very clear...which meant there was something else going on.

He had to learn about the victim. But how to do so without arranging suspicion...? He was tracing Estella's steps as he went, one step in front of the other as he traced her steps...he found the door in short order, opening the door...and saw Estella very, very close to someone....in fact, quite cozily pressed to someone.

"Your excellency." It sounded so annoyingly formal. He and Estella were still strangers in many respects, but this...

He had to admit, the vexations Estella gave were very difficult to get through. He had no idea, he supposed, what side SHE was on.

"Herr Weber. You...know the good Lady Estella?" He asked, smiling congenially all the while. "Please do tell! You two go back?"
 
The woman's forwardness and modernity contrasted sharply with her undeniable femininity and sexual allure. It was a combination the Nazi officer found both off putting and irresistible. He watched as she lit then took a deep drag on her cigarette, his peripheral vision appreciating the way her bosom swelled with the act even as his eyes stayed focused upon hers. The tug at the trousers, that particular item of clothing an embodiment of everything he was feeling towards this woman, may have been a nervous tick of sorts. A tell that someone was considering their answer very carefully. In his position he got a lot of that sort of reaction, though the British Heiress was calmer than most.

"A disturbance? Can you be more specific?" He did have an investigator's curiosity about details, such as time, any voices, male or female and other relevant details. He found himself enjoying the woman's company though so far at least his conversation was on official grounds as far as the investigation was concerned. He did pull out a small notebook, jotting items of interest down from time to time.

As his questions got more personal they strayed further away from the murder itself. Germans had been growing accustomed to the free range Nazi officials, especially the Gestapo, had when it came to their discretion and authority. It likely was more difficult to swallow for someone accustomed to their liberties being better founded in the rule of law and not of charismatic demagogues.

He seemed to take notice of her mention of others, hints of recognition from her descriptions. "Names, do you have names?" He asked, an almost hungry expression as he pressed her for more concrete details. But she seemed to dismiss them as fairly trivial encounters and Reinhard found himself both frustrated yet relieved that she hadn't met anyone of import to her.

His eyes were drawn to follow hers in looking out the window at whatever had drawn her interest. "It is a beautiful country is it not?" He asked, a hint of warmth in his voice not often heard by those he was questioning. He could sense a question in her and decided to encourage it. "Is there anything you want to know, or are concerned about? If you like I can arrange for improved security if you are, uncomfortable." He knew plenty about Walsh and the spectacled woman, but had no confirmation she was associated with either.

Again she both surprised and infuriated him when she stood without being given leave. Yes she had technically asked if there was 'nothing else' but she had essentially dismissed him in a way that he was quite unaccustomed, at least since donning the uniform of a Gestapo officer. He felt an urge to insist she sit back down, but he couldn't seem to force himself into a confrontation with her. So he stood reflexively, though too late to pull out her chair. "Until we meet again Fraulein." His heels clicking together as he gave her a small bow but at least spared her the Nazi salute.



He did not attempt to introduce the heiress to the lebensborn but instead signaled the head waiter to seat them at a clean table for lunch. He was less gentlemanly towards the young blonde, allowing the waiter to pull out her chair. She was a beautiful girl, the very ideal of national socialist maiden on the cusp of her duty in motherhood. At least that was the propaganda image, but Reinhard's mind was quickly drawn to the idea that it was merely a step short of state sponsored prostitution. "I trust you have found your accommodations suitable Fraulein?"

He ordered for both of them without consulting her. A subtle reminder of just where she stood in his reckoning. His eyes found hers then very deliberately traced down her shapely form before rising up once more.

"I have need of you to serve the Reich a little early." He told her as their drinks arrived and he waited for the waiter to retreat. He pulled one of the passports from his pocket and showed her the photo of a Leonard Benjamin. "Not much to look at I'm afraid?" He stated, knowing full well that most women would find the young attorney rather attractive. "I want you to meet him, charm him, you know what I mean?" He said, his steely eyes boring into hers to drive home the point that this was not a request.

By the time their food arrived he was of serious appetite and dug in heartily. Letting her think over her task as they ate. As the meal wound down he gave her what would be the true task he had for her. "You will give him a taste of your..." His eyes again went to her generous bosom and fine figure. "...endowments. But just a taste." His eyes met hers again with a threatening look to drive his point home. "And then my dear, I want you to scream. Scream at the top of your lungs."

He held her eyes for several long heart beats before giving her a smile. "Do you want dessert?" He asked, moving on as if he had asked some trivial service of her, not the potentially fatal framing of a sex crime.
 
Name: Jane Marple
Location: Lounge Car
@xavierrol

"A disturbance? Can you be more specific?"
"Not really. It did sound like it could have been a struggle between two people but then again it might as well have been two people simply enjoying themselves carnally without much shame or care for whether others heard them."
Jane maintained her calm and thought about his follow up questions regarding time, what kind of voices she had heard.
"I couldn't say about the time but it was certainly closer to the next morning than it was to the previous evening," She dragged on her cigarette.
"As for voices I suppose one of them could have been a woman, the other I am not sure. It was after all quite muffled considering it was a few compartments away from mine. I do wish I could be more helpful Herr MΓΌller. Terrible thing murder is it not?"
Then as he asked her for names she decided to take a chance to test the Gestapo officer's poker face.
"Well there was one that did stand out. I believe his name was Walsh. Quite a despicable person who seemed to assume I was some sort of high end prostitute."
She knew this story would stick since that was the story she had told Leo who would confirm it if asked without knowing that it had all been for show. She took another drag and blew the smoke pensively to the side.
"Last I saw him he was with a woman in a gold jacket and spectacles. Now I am not one to eavesdrop, of course, but I couldn't help but overhearing them discussing Darwin. Something about finches. It seemed quite coded, if you know what I mean, perhaps those were the two causing the disturbance last night. Perhaps he did find his high end prostitute after all. It could of course also be that the two of them committed the murder together," she said with a sile having both asked a question and made a statement that he would be hard pressed not to react to.

"Until we meet again Herr MΓΌller," Jane said with a simple bow of her head, grateful that he had chosen a more civil gesture to conclude their meeting than the obscene gesture adopted by the Nazis.
She then went back towards the regular dining car since there was not much left of the train going forward except for the engine and a few utility carriages such as the kitchen.


Hedwig Wolff NPC
@xavierrol

Hedwig was nervous about meeting the Gestapo officer who had requested her company for lunch and that was why she had overdressed a bit. She knew what her role was supposed to be in the new regime, the glorious third reich. She was to be bred like cattle but hopefully under slightly more pleasant circumstances. She was also to provide company and entertainment to high ranking officers that could, or should, not be seen consorting with simple prostitutes, but with the exception that she was not getting a single Mark for the services she was to provide that was exactly what she was, a prostitute. One might even be so obscene as to call her a whore. There was not much she could do to refuse though, not if she wanted her mentally challenged younger brother to live and to do so in relative comfort. She had accepted her role for him and no other reason. She was far from a convinced Nazi even if she had learned to play the role almost to perfection.
"They are quite comfortable Herr SturmbannfΓΌhrer," she replied gracefully and with an appropriate hint of gratitude in her voice.

She did find his attitude towards her cold and a bit dismissive but it was something she had learned to accept. She was after all not meant to be marriage material but rather just a vessel for the release of frustrated officers of the reich. She sat down gracefully as the chair was pulled out for her by the waiter and pushed back in again. She smiled but remained silent until he spoke to her.

She looked at the photograph of the clearly not aryan man and nodded. She knew exactly what he meant. It was perhaps not in line with her primary purpose in service of the reich but she also knew that she could not refuse the request. He did seem to give her time to think about her answer while they ate though. Unlike him she did not have much of an appetite but she did finish the meal out of sheer politeness.
"I understand. No more than a taste and then scream at the top of my lungs."
She nodded to confirm her words and then politely declined dessert.
"And where might I find this man then?"
 

Fritz caught the name Majestic but the rest of her words were lost to him but he had a feeling it wasn't a message meant for him. Clearly this woman had regrets but there was little he could do about that now. He wanted to help her, his heart went out to her. But he was also nervous himself, Germany was becoming a much more dangerous place. Also clouding his thinking was that he wanted her, badly. So her confession of being caught by someone in 'conversation' in the baggage car inspired a surge of jealousy. He was certainly not the young man from New York she had tormented in her youth, but he knew well that feeling. It hardened his heart and made him think more of what she so freely offered the 'right' men but denied those like him. But feeling her press herself more firmly into him was like a powerful drug and he could easily grow addicted.

The Gestapo was definitely a complication, more than Fritz had bargained for when he took this mission. It had all seemed so simple in the briefing, and he would get to meet the lovely singer whom had inspired such infatuation in him in his younger days. "Does he have reason to suspect, what you are carrying?" He asked, his concern tempered with lust as his hand swept lower from the small of her back up onto the curve of her shapely bottom. Yes it might make him no better than the brute she was describing, but Estella seemed content enough to use her body to get what she wanted.

"It is not unheard of, but I doubt he is here for you." He was trying to think through the time line and the likelihood that the German intelligence apparatus would have had time to consider her as a target and why the murder? It was possible Estella was simply in the wrong place at the wrong time. "But in any event, some attention from the German media might give him pause." He was sure whatever dispatch he sent would be read by the Gestapo if not by SturmbannfΓΌhrer MΓΌller himself, that might work to his advantage. But his 'message' was getting more and more complicated by the moment. The kiss was well placed and well timed, ensuring Fritz's best efforts, she certainly knew how to play men, at least some men.

Her whispered words in his ear made it difficult for him to focus but she gave him the exact idea he needed to reach each of the intended audiences. This just might work, at least until she tried to add another player into her game. He was just about to tell her that he couldn't help her with that last bit when they were interrupted.

Fritz felt that surge of jealousy once more as he saw the way she looked at the count. Despite her generous introduction, he felt the way she backed away from him as if caught doing something she was ashamed of with him. He adjusted his coat out of habit and in hopes of hiding his visible erection at their close company.

"Count Zelenski" Fritz gave a polite nod of the head but did not seem quite as impressed with the title as Estella. But the insecurities of a small man rose quickly in Fritz's throat as he sought an explanation of their relationship that would not be quite false but also give the impression of significance.

"I have been an admirer of the talented Lady Devereaux for years, having attended many of her performances." He left out that they had never actually met before today and that he was often in the cheap seats often set aside for members of the media. It was an awkward moment and Fritz wasn't quite sure how he could extricate himself. Whether the singer was ready to dismiss him or join him to finish her message. He was just grateful she wasn't asking for him to join her on her boat to the states to be arranged by Senator Coleman.
 
Like many Nazis, Reinhard had been a minor figure before riding the coattails of National Socialism to his current position of power. As such, he lacked the lifetime of skills normally associated with such a position, including keeping his emotions in check. As Jane mentioned the name Walsh his eyes, which had been wandering, suddenly locked onto Jane's. That name held significance to him, though he said nothing specific about him. He want back to a relaxed state as she explained away her own connection to him and idly speculated on his possible involvement. Reinhard actually knew little about the details of the murder itself, probably less than the American Detective snooping about had already discovered.

He did look at her again as she mentioned 'coded' and that might have been Jane overplaying her hand just a little. But once again, Reinhard made the wrong call. He laughed gently. "Perhaps you have been reading one too many spy novels." He dismissed her concerns, placing Ms. Eyelesbarrow squarely where she wanted to be in the Nazi's eyes, an over imaginative minor heiress amusing herself with travel. "This is Germany, we shall stick with the facts of the matter and not go off on wild speculation." He couldn't resist giving her a mild lecture that reinforced his superior attitude of a rising Germany over the waning might of the United Kingdom.

As Ms. Eyelesbarrow walked away his eyes lingered on the shape of her bottom in her trousers. His mind much more on bedding her than arresting her as an enemy agent. He just didn't see most women as having the mental capacities for espionage or the physical strength for murder.

@Traveler @MsBloom
Hedwig was exactly what Reinhard thought a woman should be, beautiful and obedient. So unlike Ms. Eyelesbarrow in so many ways, though why he was still thinking of the older woman when he could have this one just for the asking, or telling. But duty called and there was perhaps another agent to capture and perhaps a Jew to eliminate in furtherance of the Reich's power and glory.

"You will not find him, but let him find you." He instructed her as carefully as he could. "He cannot suspect you are looking for him, but you shall maintain a presence in the lounge. Ignore anyone else, but if you see him, look sad and vulnerable, he is a snake that will sense an opportunity." He told her, trying to disguise human compassion for cynical opportunism. "He may even appear charming, but do not be fooled, he is a dangerous enemy of the state." He was confident the young girl would simply accept his words on the matter. "Do not worry, we will be watching." He assured her, though he did not have nearly the resources he would have liked for such a mission.

@MsBloom

As Reinhard completed his business there was another person he needed to talk with for both personal and Reich business. He headed towards the back of the train, through the baggage compartment, and into the crew's quarters. He found the colored chambermaid alone, checking about to ensure that was the case. "Come with me." He told her, without introduction or explanation, sure that his uniform and his tone would ensure compliance. He led her back into the special car attached to the Orient Express for his use.

He opened the door to what looked like an interrogation room, there was a solid lock on the door and bars on the window. A table with two chairs on either side, one fitted with restraints. "Time to earn the Reich's tolerance of you Jeudith. Tell me what you have seen." He told her, finally having a chance to speak to her directly. Jeudith was a perfect asset for collecting information, practically invisible to polite European society and with a ready excuse to go anywhere on the train.
 


Count Aleksander
Lounge Car
@Shiva the Cat @xavierrol ​

The pleasant expression upon Aleksander's face refused to wane, his eyes flicking between Estella and the German man. His own jealousy simmered deep within his heart for a moment, but he purged it when he saw the way Estella was looking at him. He could not quite explain it, try as he might. Whenever he believed he knew what there was to know about this woman, another layer peeled apart for him to expose some part of her.

And more than that...the man beside her was a complete mystery, meaning he had to play this calm and casual to figure it all out, agitated a she was from Reinhard Muller's investigation. The man addressed him by his title, though, albeit without much weight behind it. Such a thing did not bother Aleksander altogether much. "Ah, indeed," he said. "The Lady Devereaux is a woman of MANY talents," he said. "I am pleased to see another man who appreciates them to such an extent."

He took a step into the room. "I trust things have been well, otherwise? It's been...ever so chaotic on this train of late and I was rather hoping the lady and I might have a chance to enjoy a drink soon enough, when we had been previously interrupted."
 
Mr. Leonard Benjamin, Esq.
Private Chambers to 'Between Cars' near First-Class Lounge
@xavierrol @Shiva the Cat @Vinaein​

Counting tiles did not work, nor did another drink or holding his head near the open window. Briefly he thought about jumping, but being spilled onto the German ground would do him no good at all, and as such, he decided he needed to eat and quell the disease in his core. He dressed smartly, thinking that a well-dressed and as such, wealthy passenger, would get less grief than a poorer one when dealing with those who favored the Aryan race.

His jacket was a heavy corduroy weave, thicker to account for the cold between cars, and well-suited to match the embellishments woven into his vest and tie. He chose to don a smart and subtle boiler cap since the noon hour had passed and he did not know if he would have a chance to change for dinner later. It was always better to be overdressed than under, he supposed. After running a comb through his hair and a hand over the stubble at his jaw he decided he looked presentable to the world.

Again, he traversed the connecting rooms between cars, weaving himself through other passengers. It seemed unusually busy for this time of the day, but they had a few more passengers than they had on the other journeys he had taken, and when he pulled open a door leading to the small compartment between cars he was surprised to find that the back of a head he was looking at happened to belong to one Count he was coming to know fairly well. Leo's eyes widened slightly when he also recognized Estella, and that reporter fellow Leo had seen talking to her earlier.

"Oh, pardon me," Leo said, holding the door wider in case he had barred their progress. They must have been coming from the first-class lounge or dining cars, a few sections forward. "I…hope I'm not interrupting." His eyes went to Estella, then to her two male companions. Perhaps this was more to her liking, he did not know, but he could not get the sudden memory of her sprawled across his lap and her lips against his from his mind. He felt the hot flush of embarrassment flush his cheeks as he realized that he had not yet had a chance, or reason, to apologize to Aleks, who the attorney felt had the most claim to call the actress 'his.'
 
Estella tried to hold on to Weber's reassuring words as the two men made their acquaintances. The protection of the spotlight, particularly a German spotlight, was a paper shield against the iron will of the Reich, but it was better than nothing. And as far as she knew, the officials had no reason to suspect what she had been carrying. If she could prove without a doubt she had nothing to do with the murder, which in and of itself was a pretty circumstantial accusation, she'd be home free.

In the meantime, she just had to keep playing the part. "Lady Estella he says!" she chuckled, giving Aleks a playful shove on the shoulder in the the hopes it would loosen up the tight line of his mouth. "That was Pauline Stark in that King Arthur picture a few years back darling, not me. Though I always thought I'd make a good Queen Guinevere," she added with a wink so perfectly angled it seemed directed at the count and the reporter at the same time.

But if juggling two men was challenge enough, the handsome businessman from Boston had just the right timing to up the ante. "Oh Leo, there you are! I was worried that fellow in the boots might have eaten you in one bite the instant my back was turned. Everything all right?" Her smile was cool, but there was no hiding the flickering in her eyes as they moved between the three mens' faces. Chorus girls back home always liked to dream about juggling their beaux, but Estella was beginning to find the logistics somewhat challenging.

Thankfully, Aleks was clever enough to find an exit from the predicament. As he gestured towards the door to the First Class Lounge, the singer nodded her head emphatically. "What an excellent idea, Your Grace. Now that the gang's all here, I think a beverage is certainly in order. Although..."

Her gaze shifted back to Weber's face, lingering there with heavy meaning behind her eyes. "Mr. Weber, if you have any correspondence to attend to--you know, with your editors--I'd hate to keep you from it." If he had a way of reaching Colman by the next stop, it would be better to get the message about coming home sent off sooner rather than later. "But of course we'd be more than happy to have you with us, wouldn't we gentlemen?" She linked one arm through Aleks' and the other through Leo's before either could argue.

"Now then, if that piano I saw in the corner is in tune and we can scrounge up some spare fingers to play it, then the first person to put a martini in front of me gets a special serenade," the singer added, turning towards the door to the lounge.
 
Though technically sheltered from the wind and elements, the connector between cars was noisy and cramped. Three was certainly a crowd and the addition of a fourth left little space between any of the occupants. The easy conversation between his would be paramour and the other men hit Fritz like a punch to the gut but he he was hardly unaccustomed to such results. He hid his frustration and jealousy reasonably well, perhaps from more practice than he cared to admit. Even coded as it was, Estella's words rang clear as a dismissal, at least until such time as she had done his bidding.

He decided to maintain what grace he could under the circumstances and hopefully to burnish his usefulness and by extension desirability to the pretty singer. It was of course part of his assignment to report back in any event and with the mood already broken there seemed no time like the present. "Yes, of course, my editors shall be very eager for news of you. Perhaps we shall talk again soon Fraulein?" He said as he kissed Estella's hand and nodded to the two men now linked arms with the object of his desire.

Back at his compartment, alone for the moment, he sat dawn and scrawled a carefully crafted note on telegraph paper. "Fresh from London, the incomparable Estella Devereaux is laden with new material for a one night only performance at Club Maxim before making her triumphant return to her fans in New York City. Her new accompanist will be traveling with her to the delight of their fellow travelers." He read it over once then headed to the Conductor to have it included in a telegraph drop at the next station. It should be vague enough to avoid suspicion but included enough to let his employers know of the girl's intentions and desires.

His task completed, Fritz went back to the lounge car. He thought he could hear the faint sounds of singing coming from the lounge but it might have just been his over eager mind playing tricks on him. He ordered a warm German beer and sat miserably alone at a table and stewed in his pent up but ultimately denied arousal.
 
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Count Aleksander
Between Cars -- First Class Lounge
@Shiva the Cat @xavierrol @Traveler​


Aleksander was attempting to rationalize his way through the conversation. No mean feat currently, not with everything currently battering his mind from within, a tiny storm of details and doubts that refused to abandon him. He didn't know Weber and certainly didn't trust him completely, but that could have applied to anyone on the train. Even Estella. Maybe especially Estella....

Could he truly purge her from the list of suspects? Could anyone purge him from it? Well, he thought...it wasn't like he could present as innocent. For all they knew, he drained the life's blood of innocent maidens by night. Who would know otherwise? He only grinned at Estella's playfulness and good nature, giving a dramatic sigh to push back. "Yes, I did indeed say 'Lady,'" he said...with her referencing...movies now. Maybe. And then...

"Ah, Mr. Benjamin," he said, evidently pleased to see the other men, directing Estella aside for drinks....and he was pretty sure that remark about 'editors' and 'correspondence' were code. He'd have to try to get that out from Estella later. "Mr. Weber. Perhaps we can talk later? I confess, it has been a....trying morning," he said, the memories of Herr Muller lingering in his mind..."

With Estella a chain linking him to Leo, he put one step in front of the other.

"Piano indeed...I've been known to dabble if you would like a song to go with our drinks? It is a number called 'Children of the Night.'"
 
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