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Orient Express - East of Stuttgart

Reader mode
Name: Jane Marple
Location: First Class Dining
@Traveler @captain_bond

It was perhaps not as safe to speak so freely of the two leaders as it might have been only a few hours ago before they crossed the border but Jane was not too worried. They might perhaps be on german territory but as brazen and bold as The Gestapo might be at times she was fairy certain they would think twice about attempting to arrest a bored lonesome Cornish heiress for simply expressing something as worry regarding the political unrest of Europe. Especially not since he had also mentioned the Russian's being equally troublesome. It was just good old British conservatism after all. She could understand though that with a name like Leonard Benjamin it might indeed be much less safe to even be in the company of someone speaking such things, even in hushed whispers.
"My apologies. My mind was elsewhere for a brief moment," she aid and dug into her omelette while keeping a discreet eye on the uniformed Gestapo officer taking a seat two tables over.
"It's just ..." she sighed and left the thought unfinished in the firm conviction that Leo understood the sentiment.

"Amazing indeed," Jane agreed and wondered if Leo was testing her.
The situation he described, he had entered the Savoy Hotel with a mysterious woman, was a situation she was more than familiar with, herself being the mysterious woman, though she had almost always left her victims alive, almost always. It was a part of the job she did not much enjoy and on the occasions when it had been necessary, or required she preferred Belladonna, or possibly arsenic.
"You know what they say, Heav'n has no Rage, like Love to Hatred turn'd, Nor Hell a Fury, like a Woman scorn'd, perhaps it was Mrs Murrow who did him in after finding him in the arms of his mistress. How did he die?"
 
Reinhard Müller put his uniform back on shortly after the knock on his door. He checked every detail in the mirror, knowing the pride of the Reich rested upon him and men like him. He took a walk along the various cars, as much to be seen as to kill some time. He would take his time getting to breakfast, he had contacts aboard but he had to approach them carefully, but he wanted to make sure they knew he was here.

He passed through the regular dinning car, he often found the reactions of those seeing him appear to be quite revealing. Those that tried to look inconspicuous attracted his attention more than anything. He loved the feeling of power those looks of dread and fear instilled in him. He noted the woman reading Darwin's works. "Affen in der Tat!" He said in passing, his voice dripping of Roman Catholic condescension as he moved towards the first class car for breakfast.

His blue eyes scanned the early morning diners, looking for reactions as he took a seat and ordered a hearty breakfast. It would be an eventful day, he would enjoy the peace while he could.
 

Name: Count Aleksander
Location: First Class Dining
@Traveler @captain_bond @MsBloom @Shiva the Cat
​
Morning came and Count Aleksander emerged from Estella's sleeping compartment. The count had taken a brief time to freshen up, cleaning himself to look as charming and fresh as he should, knowing Estella would do the same after the previous evening with everything they had committed themselves to, everything they had done...he thought of the singer as he went to retrieve her, knowing the briefcase would be safe for the moment and the key secured still upon his person. With a breathtaking smile that bespoke centuries of nobility and aristocracy, the Count bade her to join him for breakfast...

He did, after all, have another appointment to keep. Aleksander was making his way to the breakfast car...it was likely he would run into Jane Eyelsbarrow and probably Mr. Leo Benjamin, the lawyer, and-.....something was going on, he could feel and sense it in his bones. The Count kept a low profile, dimly aware that there might be something wrong here...when he heard the bark in German, the man in uniform barking out. When the jackbooted thugs had slipped by, Aleksander offered only the most gracious of reactions and a "Sieg Heil" for security...eastern European as he was, who would doubt he was a fascist if he offered it such?

Though he despised the Nazis and their type, he knew better than to advertise that. He merely stepped forth, knowing Estella would be with him...to see who was in the dining car and make contact...if Nazis were here...that could mean his own assignments were bearing fruit. He needed to find out what their intelligence was up to...

And that meant possibly finding Hjalmar and revenge as well...but for now, he decided he would devote himself and Estella to breakfast.
 
Charles Walsh, Dining Cars
@Shiva the Cat

Charles flatly ignored the Gestapo agent, almost looking bored with the proceedings. He suddenly noticed a golden hued jacket in the lower-class dining car, and remembered that his contact was meant to wear that. Finally! He finished his breakfast and paid the bill, then got up and went to the table of the bespectacled woman and held out a cigarette. "Excuse me, may I borrow a match?"
 
Mr. Leonard Benjamin, Esq.
First-Class Dining Compartment
​

Leonard smiled, more relieved than relaxed, as Jane took his lead and spoke about things other than the current state of politics. "You are correct – I don't think there is any force more destructive than a broken and betrayed heart," he agreed.

"I don't know the details of it all. I…did not stay too long to overhear the whispering," he said. "But it did strike me as strange that someone so powerful could be taken down so easily." He glanced up, looked at the waiter, and then back at Jane. "Perhaps they will have something about it in the papers if the train picked up a stack during the night."

He sipped at his coffee, enjoying her companionship despite the entrance of someone in a German uniform. Leonard kept his eyes on Jane. The small hairs on the back of his hand began to stand, almost as if he were standing too near to a lightning strike. Slowly Leonard set the coffee cup down, though he could feel his hand wanting to shake. To steady himself he set one hand on his lap and picked up the fork to nudge the remnants of his breakfast about the plate.

A few moments later he saw the count walk in, and Leonard's eyes lit upon him. He smiled a hello, creases forming at the corners of his eyes and along his jawline, then glanced down to not compromise Aleks should Leo himself come under scrutiny.

"I should not keep you too long," Leo said as an apology to the heiress. "Allow me, please, to cover our breakfast," he said as he placed a few marks on the table and slid them partially beneath his plate. "I really should get to my paperwork." He slipped his chair back and stood, smiling softly at Jane and trying not to appear as if the German officer in the car bothered him. "I hope you have a good – " he noticed Charles standing and walking over to another patron as if he had recognized an old friend. "A good day," he finished, catching himself. "It was a pleasure to start mine in your company."
 
Jeudeth Bakari NPC chambermaid.

Jeudeth had slept poorly during the night. She was always extra nervous when passing through Germany and it affected her sleep. Still she went about her duties with no less precision than any other morning as she moved from compartment to compartment to make the beds, empty bins, ashtrays and tidying up in general. It was perhaps not the most exciting of duties but it was a living after all, and it also meant that she got to see more of the world than just an apartment in Berlin. There were worse things she could do to earn money for herself and her children back home. There were may among the Germans, even among the Nazis, who was more than prepared to pay for a roll in the sack with a dark-skinned woman. It was perhaps no less dull but far a more degrading to make money.

She went about her business until she came to an empty compartment. Usually those were already done but the steward had mentioned to her that the passenger who had booked this particular compartment would board in Munich and had asked her to make sure it was in order before their arrival. She opened the sliding door with her key and found it odd that not only was the compartment not unoccupied but the woman, dressed in nothing but her undergarments lay on the floor with her arms and legs at strange angles. There was also a puddle underneath her of what Jeudeth deduced, from the smell, was urine. This seemed strange to her since no adult would simply void their bladder like that, not unless they could help it anyway.
"Fraulein?" she said cautiously and moved into the compartment to attempt to wake up the woman.
"Geht es dir gut, Fraulein?"
She squatted down and gently nudged the woman and was just about to ask again in French when she realised that the woman's skin was cool to the touch and had a slightly rubbery quality to it. She stood up and let out a blood-curling scream. The strange angles of the limbs, the puddle of urine, the temperature and the fact that she was on the floor, it all amounted to one conclusion. The woman was dead.
 
the spectacled woman
Main Dining Car
@captain_bond

*****
​
The spectacled woman did not seem remotely surprised when the man approached her. Nor did her face show any kind of reaction as she reached into her slim pocketbook and withdrew a book of matches. As she slid them across the table to the man, the words 'Savoy Hotel, London' were emblazoned across the top.

"Help yourself," she said in a curiously flat voice. Behind the spectacles, her eyes watched closely for which one he would take. The man she was supposed to meet would have instruction to take the very middle match from the front row. If he passed that test, then there was just the verbal key to confirm his identity.

"Do you know what the weather is today in Brussels?" the spectacled woman asked, closing her book and holding it in her lap. Something was poking out ever so slightly between the pages, like a bookmark.

Trusting he would know the correct answer, she folded her hands together on the table. "We are being watched, Mr. Walsh," she whispered. "You would do well not to draw so much attention to yourself now that we are in Germany."
 
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Charles Walsh
@xavierrol et al

Charles was about to respond with something along the lines of 'No shit, Sherlock' when he heard the scream. It usually only meant one thing. Allowing the jackboots to take the lead (because, sadly, this was their turf) he hurried towards the source of the scream and looked over the gray-uniformed shoulders at the crime scene and swore. "Damned shame," he said. "May the Reich's justice come down swiftly on the murderer," he said and left them to it.
 
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The night had passed better than Estella might have hoped, with Aleks at her side, but by sunrise both agreed they needed to part at least temporarily. The singer tiptoed back to her own compartment first, praying no one would see her and ask any untoward questions. The last thing she needed was for the train company to unceremoniously dump her in the Reich for breaking a stupid rule about male-female relations.

Thankfully she encountered no one, and when she opened the door to her compartment it at first seemed utterly undisturbed from how she and Aleks had left it the night before. Then she noticed the envelope on the floor. Estella's heart began to pound, sure this was some threat or scheme from Jane (she didn't dare assume it would be anyone worse), but she let out an audible sigh when she realized it was a telegram.

The stamp on the outside read "Strasbourg," which meant it must have been slid under her door while she was...otherwise occupied during the night. After checking to make sure the door was latch behind her, Estella quickly tore it open.

Orient_Express_Telegram_3.png

​
It was the best news she could have gotten, and a genuinely warm smile spread across her face. He's okay. Michael would be there at Sirkeci after all, she just needed to make sure nothing bad happened to the case or herself until then. Easier said than done, of course.

Still, she was feeling well enough to even sing a little as she got dressed and applied her makeup, and when Estella stepped out of her compartment, briefcase in hand, she looked better than she had in days. Aleks would be waiting for her in the dining car, and she felt her appetite finally returning. All was well with the world...for about five seconds.

The first thing Estella noticed was the chambermaid stumbling out of the compartment at the end of the car. She vaguely recalled it was the woman who had come to check on her in the night, and feeling a momentary sympathy, she rushed to the maid's side. "Hey now, what's the matter?" she asked, putting an arm around the dark-skinned woman's shoulders before following her shocked gaze into the room. At first, Estella though the woman inside had merely had a fall, but the smell of piss and the bruises on her neck were all-too familiar to what the singer had seen back at the Savoy.

"Holy shit!" she gasped, releasing the maid and taking several steps backward. "She's dead!"

Her body bumped into something hard, and at first Estella thought the masculine form was that of Aleks, coming to check on her. But when she glance behind her, she recognized the elegant form of Mr. Benjamin, who was no doubt as shocked as the others standing aghast in the corridor.
 
Name: Jane Marple
Location: First Class Dining
@Traveler @captain_bond

Jane had of course read about the murder in The Times, which she always bought at the same international press stand, one of very few routines she allowed herself in her daily life. She had also heard rumours through unofficial channels that there were other government departments looking for that very same mysterious woman though the descriptions given were far apart and if you put them all together all you really had was that it was a woman, though there were apparently witnesses who had been unsure even about that. It might just as well have been a man dressed as a woman. It was not unheard of after all. So basically the mysterious woman was a woman, or a man dressed to look like one, with either long dark hair or short, brown or possibly auburn above medium height, or possibly shorter. Of course this was not something she intended to let Leo know.

She picked at her omelette and mopped up some of the runny bits of fat, eggs and cheese with her croissant. She was about to reach out and put her hands on Leo's when she noticed them about to start shaking but he preceded her by putting one in his lap and busy the other. Instead she washed down the croissant with the last of her café au lait and then as Leo offered to cover her breakfast it dawned on her, the initials on Estella's briefcase, A.H.M ... What a fool she had been. That thought however was interrupted by a scream coming from the first class sleeping car.
 
Mr. Leonard Benjamin, Esq.
First-Class Dining to First-Class Sleeping Carriage

@MsBloom @Shiva the Cat @captain_bond @Vinaein
​

The scream drew everyone's attention. Even though it was through two doors and a pass way away, the sound was unmistakable. Fear. Terror. Raw horror…Leonard didn't even think about what he was doing. He rushed through both doorways, instinct telling him to run towards the chaos instead of away from it, and nearly bumped into the actress. Then she stepped back, her perfectly painted lips expelling an entirely unladylike curse as she released the maid. "She's dead!"

Leonard reached out to steady her with an arm around her waist and the other hand reaching for the terrified maid. The negro was sobbing, her hands over her face. He quickly looked over their shoulders as he collected both women in the doorway and peered into the room beyond. Everything was out of place; the position of the deceased's limbs, the reveal of her last moments, perhaps terrified ones, and…Leo realized, the fact that someone had been murdered in this compartment right next to his own. His eyes went to their adjoining wall – he had heard nothing. How had he slept so peacefully, when this woman was dying practically beside him?

"There, there," he said to the two, then the maid pushed away from him, her eyes trained behind him, and he turned to see uniformed men coming their way, as well as a train steward. He let the maid pull away, realizing that she might be chastised for being in the embrace of a Caucasian. Thankfully Estelle did not have to worry about such things. She was as pale as they came, especially now that she had seen this horrid sight. He tried to turn her away. "Don't look," he urged her, "the authorities will take care of it." He glanced over at the ever-increasing crowd and urged Estelle to back away with him as several officials from the train and the military came in, entering the room and taking their assessment. Behind the crowd he caught a brief glimpse of Mr. Walsh glance in, dismiss the murder as if he saw one every week, and leave.

Leo turned to the actress, his fingers brushing the hair from her face. "Are you okay, dear? Can I escort you from here?" His green eyes studied her and a look of concern etched itself between his brows. The officials would take care of the poor woman in the sleeping quarters – but the actress seemed alone and very small at the moment. He wondered where the Count was. He had seen the two together enough to assume they had become friends.
 
Name: Jane Marple
Location: First Class Dining
@Traveler @captain_bond

Jane was less in a hurry to move towards the scream. If it was, as she suspected, a dead body, what else could cause anyone to let out such a scream, then it would still be there when she got there. She wiped her mouth and walked briskly back to the first class sleeping car where everyone was already gathered in and outside the compartment next to Leo's.
"So ... what's going on then," she asked with feigned disinterest.
 
Under normal circumstances (and considering the small amount of loyalty Estella now felt she owed the Count), the singer would have immediately withdrawn from Mr. Benjamin's arms. Even though his name gave her a little comfort, there was still no making sure of his real origins or goals, and she'd already learned one couldn't be too cautious on this godforsaken train. She was about to step away from him though when another face and familiar voice caught her attention.

"So ... what's going on then," asked Jane, her elegant face utterly unfazed by the scent of death.

Immediately, Estella pressed closer to Mr. Benjamin, even letting him turn her face away from the scene. It was unlikely that small gesture would keep Jane from noticing her, but she would take what she could get. She was happy to slip away from the growing crowd with him, noticing Jane's friend--or partner?--quickly arriving on the scene as well. Between the Nazis and the obvious spies, the corridor was getting very uncomfortable indeed.

But where could they go? Her compartment was only a few scanty doors down the hall, hardly enough to provide protection. Aleks had gone to the dining car for breakfast, but who knew how many more officials would be coming from that very place? She doubted she could reach the Count without encountering more Germans.

"Let's go this way," she whispered to Mr. Benjamin finally, gesturing towards the door to the lower class cars, many of which she recalled as having empty compartments. They were also in the opposite direction of where the rest of the German officials were likely finishing their breakfasts. "You don't want to stick around here either, do you? With all them fellas with the armbands hanging around?" She didn't notice that she had slipped back into her Brooklyn patois.

Estella tilted her head back and looked up at him more seriously now, trying to read his expression for any hesitation or confusion. They would have to slip past the dead woman's door, but beyond that they would hopefully be free, and she could perhaps find some other way to get a message to Aleks about their location.
 
Charles Walsh
Various Locations
@Vinaein @Shiva the Cat

If Charles had any experience with murder scenes (and he did), it was best not to linger too long, even if he was not the triggerman (which he was more often than he had cared for). He retreated back to the dining cars and noticed the Count. "Ah, good morning sir. I'm not certain I caught your name. I'm Charles Walsh, of Universal Exports." He held out his hand for the Count to shake and introduce himself.
 
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Mr. Leonard Benjamin, Esq.
First-Class Sleeping Car to Standard Sleeping Car
@MsBloom @Shiva the Cat

Engine <- First Class Dinning <- First class Lounge <- Dinning car <- Lounge <- Sleeping Cars <- Baggage Car <- Caboose (Crew Quarters)

Jane seemed unimpressed by the sight of death, much as Mr. Walsh had been. Leonard was beginning to wonder if they were birds of a feather. She was unfazed, and as Estella whispered for the two of them to go another way, Leo nodded. She was right – he did not want to stick around, and she had correctly assessed the reason why.

His face was full of protective concern as he helped to shield Estelle from the view as they eased by the authorities. Part of him was thankful that none of the officers tried to stop them and ask if they knew what had happened. Another part of him was scared that the reason why they did not was either because the woman was unimportant to them, or because they already knew what had happened to her. Either option was dire.

There was a moment as they passed the others when he felt the eyes of someone around him, and when Leo glanced over he met the eyes of a uniformed soldier. Trying to remain calm, Leo nodded once as if he was acknowledging their right to be there and continued to move by. 'Please don't stop us,' he prayed silently. 'Just let us go in peace.'

As they reached the doorway, he extended his hand to open the door for Estelle. He could feel his heart pounding in his chest, and he was beginning to feel claustrophobic. For a moment the door seemed to stick. He tried again and it opened, making his skin flush in cold relief as they stepped through into the …pass way. The sound of the door closing behind them was a relief, and soon they were in the…baggage car! He was surprised; he hadn't realized how close they were to the end of the train. "I am so sorry you saw that," Leo said, looking around and realizing that he must have run through more than one set of doors to find the source of the scream.

He glanced back towards the door they had come through, then at the one at the end of the car. It was marked "Crew Quarters."

Leo sighed. "I think we're stuck here for a while, unless you care to pass by the room as they…" he motioned towards the sleeping car. "I suppose we should give them a little time to work things out."
 

Count Aleksander
Various Locations
@MsBloom @Shiva the Cat @Traveler @captain_bond​

Something was terribly wrong and it did not take Aleksander much time to figure out exactly what. As he passed by, he could hear a commotion, along with a thick accent that sounded strangely...French? Cajun perhaps? A blond fellow was bustling out, about the Nazis, wearing a thick jacket. It did not take Aleksander long to discern what had occurred: There had been a murder. No use saying it in any other terms. Murder most foul and unnatural, as he had once heard in a play in England. Someone found dead aboard this train. Unless the perpetrator had been suicidal, that meant the culprit was still aboard.

And after everything he'd heard from Estella, let alone what he had stalking him from his own pasts, Aleksander was not particularly optimistic on this being a coincidence. Not with the barking, strutting Nazi bastards aboard. And of course, this was just when he was aboard with the Nazi agents...whom he had to avoid for more reasons than one...his aristocratic status only went so far through this...only bought him so much..

but he had an idea in his mind. Firstly, Leo Benjamin. He'd been talking to Janes Eyelsbarrow. The second was Jane herself...Estella had not gotten much from her...but Aleksander might be able to. Trade secrets for secrets before he rendezvoused with Estella and set about fixing all of this.

Just before someone simply walked up to him out of the blue.

"Ah, good morning sir. I'm not certain I caught your name. I'm Charles Walsh, of Universal Exports.

Aleksander offered his best smile. Who exactly was Charles Walsh? Was he just as he appeared? But with Nazis aboard, could he take the chance? His mind raced as he tried to make sense of it. Was Charles Walsh a spy or just a man of 'Universal Exports' after he'd been seen in the company of Jane earlier...

Wouldn't espionage be so much simpler if people randomly just ran up and told you things? "Ah...pleasure to meet you. Count Aleksander Zelenski," he offered with a firm handshake, trying to look past.

Searching for Jane now...or Estella, whichever he could find first.
 
Charles Walsh
Various Locations
@Vinaein @Shiva the Cat

"A pleasure, Count Zelenski. Now, I must get back to the dining carriages. Good day to you." With that Charles disengaged himself from the situation and went back to the low-class dining car to seek out the bespectacled woman. Christ, if he's a spy for his home country, then that's just dandy. Still, we might all hate those Jerry bastards, so could be some small hope of cooperation there. He was lost in thought and only came out of it when he emerged into the dining car. Now, where was that woman?
 

The temperature dropped noticeably as they passed into the baggage car, but even if they'd been traveling through the Sahara the singer probably wouldn't have stopped shivering. There was some comfort in knowing they could easily duck behind the stacked trunks and suitcases rising up above them like a miniature city, but they'd also have to pray no sudden stops or changes in speed would send the piles crashing down on their heads.

"Do you have a cigarette, Mr. Benjamin?" Estella asked as she stepped away from him, sitting down on a heavy wooden crate bound for Vienna. She'd been smart enough to keep the briefcase with her the entire time, but she'd foolishly left her purse back in her own compartment. Thankfully with the help of the Count, there was nothing incriminating left behind--even Michael's telegram was still crumpled tight in her fist--but she had no intention of heading back until things had quieted down somewhat, and the body had been moved...well, hopefully not to their current location.

"That poor woman..." she murmured, looking back towards Mr. Benjamin. "Did you know who she was? Her compartment was the one next to yours, right?"

That old suspicion tied to his accent temporarily rose inside her, but Estella shook it off. Instead, she tried to think of the most tactful way to voice the question that had been lingering her mind since the businessman had introduced himself yesterday. "It's ah...a bit dangerous for someone like you--" A pause, and a breath. "--and me, to be traveling through Germany right now, huh?"

She offered him a small smile as she leaned back against the wall of the car. "You must have a real good reason for being on this train. Since we can't exactly go anywhere for the moment, feel like talking about it? Just to pass the time, of course."
 

Despite the cooler air in the compartment, Leonard felt like he could not breath deeply enough. He felt the towering stacks of baggage around them and then noted that Miss Devereaux had sat herself daintily upon his very luggage trunk. He smiled, not mentioning it to her, and thought it was quite apropos.

At her request for a cigarette he unbuttoned his jacket to better reach the cigarette tin within. "Certainly," he pulled out the tin and handed her one before retaining one for himself, then he offered to light hers as she waited. He could almost feel the Gestapo in the nearby car. Not that he knew that they were, in fact, secret police, but any German in uniform unnerved him. He doubted he could walk by a postman without feeling a chill.

As he lit his cigarette the flame glowed across his features, illuminating the aquiline planes of his face. He shook his head when Estelle as him if he knew the deceased. After taking a few draws on his cigarette, he replied, "As far as I knew that room was empty." He let the fag hang from his lips as he tucked the lighter back into the tin and secured them in his inner pocket. Then he lifted two slim fingers to cradle the cigarette and remove it from his face, holding the vice at waist height as he looked at Estelle. "I didn't even hear anything," he said, sharing his incredulity. "My headboard is right against our common wall, and…" he shook his head, a furrow appearing between his eyebrows. "I heard nothing."

He took another drag, held the smoke in, and then let it out slowly. His eyes flitted to her when she mentioned how dangerous it was for both of them to be traveling through Germany. "Ah…yes," he said, lowering his chin as he crossed an arm over his stomach and rested the elbow of the other arm against his hand. He looked around and then pulled another trunk out so that he could sit across from her.

"It's my job," he said. "They're anticipating a greater need for machining factories." He swallowed. War was always a source for increased machine sales. "Light rails," he said. "They're becoming all the rage in the cities." He smiled softly and took another drag. "I might be taking a slow boat around the end of Greece when my assignment is up if this continues as it has been," he said, casting another glance at the doorway.

"You're right. It's not safe for people like me to travel here…but I can't figure out why it would be dangerous to you, Miss Devereaux. You're beautiful, certainly a near perfect example of Aryan beauty, though I do understand the hair might be an issue." He canted his head as he regarded her. Chancing a smile, he added, "Though if you're in Istanbul in six months and want to book a boat ride back to the States I wouldn't mind a traveling friend."
 
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Estella gratefully accepted the cigarette, sliding it between her plum-painted lips and letting Mr. Benjamin light it for her. After a few drags her mind had cleared enough to listen closely to the man's explanation of the night's events, and she turned them over slowly in her mind. He'd spoken to Jane as well in the past, but didn't seem to have any qualms about leaving her behind when things started getting dangerous. Not her partner then, probably just an acquaintance, and most likely without any reason to lie at the moment.

"She was probably strangled," the singer thought out loud, immediately regretting the words as soon as she spoke them. "I-I mean, from the way I've read it in books, you know? The gal who gets strangled always has bruises on her neck, and she...you know." Estella vaguely waved her free hand over her lap to demonstrate that final humiliation the poor victim had suffered. "I hope they figure out who did it though, and they catch the bastard before he can do it to someone else." She shivered and instinctively touched her own neck. One more thing to worry about.

Mr. Benjamin's voice did have a rather soothing quality about it though, and she nodded thoughtfully as he talked about his trade. "You must be real devoted to your work then, huh? Hope they're paying you well enough for putting yourself on the line like that. Ain't no job I can think of worth getting sent to one of them, you know--" Estella leaned forward, her voice dropped to a whisper. "Camps."

Shuddering, she took another long drag off the cigarette, her gaze subconsciously following Leo's towards the door. "I can't figure out why it would be dangerous to you, Miss Devereaux," the businessman remarked. "You're beautiful, certainly a near perfect example of Aryan beauty..."

A noise that was across between a cough and a laugh rocketed out of Estella's throat. "That's real sweet of you, Mr. Benjamin, but you gotta be fucking blind. Me? Aryan?" She made the noise again and tapped the ash off the edge of the case. "Hardly. I didn't always go by Estella Devereaux, you know. That's just a stage name. And when I was younger I was known to frequent the Harrison Street Synagogue in Brooklyn, when Ma and Pop could manage to drag me through the doors. Hell, my big brother had his bar mitzvah there."

She tilted her head curiously at Mr. Benjamin's subsequent invitation. "I hope to God I'm not still in Istanbul in six weeks, let alone six months. Once I'm off this train, I'm gonna do everything I can to get my ass back across the ocean. I've had it with Europe, I'm done," she groaned, making a slicing motion with her hand. "But what would bring you back to the U.S., Mr. B.? With that posh talk of yours I thought you were English. You got business in the States or something?"
 
The mention of strangling and camps sent a shiver across his skin. It was a very real possibility. He might have taken too great a risk in crossing Europe, but he had felt like he needed just one more 'win' to fund his dreams of returning to Stateside and starting his own law firm. Now that he was smack dab in the middle of it, he thought it was too great a risk. But what could he do? He was here. It was too late to go back.

Estella's laugh drew his attention to her. She really had an appealing glint in her eye when she laughed, even it if was at him. "Oh…" he paused, looking at her more closely. "I…did not realize," he said. And then, "You don't say," at her admission that not only had she performed in a Brooklyn synagogue, but her brother had his bar mitzvah there. As she shared her plans with him he took another long pull, enjoying the way the smoke eased his jitters and helped him to think of something other than the commotion in the other car.

Leonard chuckled. "I am English," he said, "born in Bicester, Oxfordshire County. My parents divorced when I was in knickers and mother took me back to Boston, actually." He smiled at her as he shared this tidbit of information. "I only came back when the University of Cambridge gave me a scholarship, and I've been trying to get home ever since." He shrugged, setting his hands on the edge of the trunk and leaning forward. "My mother is a Protestant. I never had a bar mitzvah, though I've been to a few. I suppose that means I haven't truly grown up, now, doesn't it?"

His smile reached his eyes as he looked at her. "I suppose I should have taken my mother's maiden name when I came over here. It was a foolish conceit, and now I'm afraid I may have made a fatal error." He flicked the short stogie with his thumb as he sat there, his eyes boring into hers. "I won't tell anyone your secret," he promised. "Tell them you are American French from Louisiana; they don't expect Americans to know anything, so your accent issues shouldn't cause you harm."
 
Reinhard Müller didn't flinch at the sound of the scream, instead he watched and listened. An English looking fellow practically beat his own men to the scene of whatever trauma befell the screamer. Breakfast would have to wait, but he let the initial scrum of activity settle before beginning to rise. But he paused as an attractive, modern looking woman, casually left her table and followed. Morbid curiosity perhaps, but it seemed out of character given the circumstances. He followed her, his eyes appreciating the shapely curve of her, bum the British called it if he recalled correctly.

He took control of the scene, taking his place at the doorway and blocking the scene from the spectators. Most retreated past him and his men back to the dinning car whence they had come. But one couple he didn't recognize, they must have been in the car when the woman screamed, went the opposite way. It wasn't hard to determine the screamer, the Negress was still visibly upset. He didn't move to comfort her, scanning the scene for himself as he had his men shoo any remaining onlookers away. He called for the conductor and had his men stand watch at either end as he surveyed the scene.

Alone with the dead body he looked casually about the room, showing little concern for the deceased or any evidence that might need preserved. He was careful not to step in the piss on the floor, looking disgusted at the mess. As he emerged from the room he was met by the conductor. "Passports of all those getting off in Stuttgart shall be provided to the local authorities so they can be questioned. they shall also take charge of the body." He stated then continued his instructions, to ensure no one slipped away unnoticed, no one would disembark until they had been matched with their passport and escorted off the train to the local police. They would be unavoidably delayed at Stuttgart but no longer than was necessary to ensure the killer didn't slip away. "I shall have passports of all the occupants of this car as well, and a suitable compartment to conduct my interviews."

He finished his instructions and leaving a guard at the crime scene, headed towards the baggage car. The couple who went this way almost certainly had something to hide, and it was as good a place to start as any with his questioning. Uncertain just what he might find in the baggage car he paused a moment to pull his sidearm from its holster, then opened the door with his free hand. "Guten Tag" He said whether he could see anyone visible or even if they chose to hide, which would look even more suspicious. "Whom do we have here?" He asked in accented by very passable English. Now to find out just what made them so nervous that they headed for the baggage car rather than squeeze past him to go back to the passenger compartments like the others.
 
Estella chuckled at Mr. Benjamin's thought about using his mother's maiden name. "Yeah, that would've been smart. Don't worry about me though. All my paperwork has the name Devereaux on it--fella at the State Department pulled some strings for me--and I really was born in New York. End of the day, these guys got nothing on me." Not exactly the truth, considering how she was continually glancing at the briefcase, but as far as she knew, there was no way anyone on the train could know her birth name or religion.

"So, Boston, huh?" she continued, finishing off the cigarette and crushing the butt beneath her shoe. "Ever take in shows at the Howard? I played a few gigs down there when I was just getting started. I used to get this big Chinese folding fan, and hold it in front of my body so you couldn't see my--"

The story came to an abrupt end as she heard a door open. Not the door to the baggage car, not yet, but the very next one. She had one second, maybe two.

The singer leapt to her feet as though she'd sat on a pin, kicking the briefcase between the crates and utterly concealing it from view. Launching forward, she landed abruptly on Mr. Benjamin's lap, her legs draping over his hips as she pressed her mouth firmly against his. When the intruder stepped into the baggage car, the first thing he would see was the two people locked in a passionate embrace, Estella's fingers playing with Mr. Benjamin's hair as she moaned a little too loudly against his lips.

"Guten Tag," greeted the man who entered. "Whom do we have here?"

The dark haired woman pulled back from her would-be paramour, 'accidentally' pressing his face into the crook of her neck in a weak attempt to hide his identity. "Oh my word!" she gasped, face turning bright red. "I'm...I'm so sorry. We just wanted a little privacy...away from my ah...lover."

Sorry Aleks she thought in apology, hoping for the first time that day that someone really had seen her leaving his compartment. If the train thought she was just another showbiz slut cheating on her latest boyfriend, that was certainly preferable to any real reason she had to hide.
 

Leonard smiled softly at her foresight in changing her name over to the French Devereaux. She was smart. Or else, the fellow at the State Department was. His eyes danced over her as she began to describe her time at the Howard, a well-known club that was famous for its burlesque shows, and for which he was too young to attend when he was still in the States. He had no problem imagining her with a large, colorful fan that just covered the crest of her -

She sat up quickly and in a flash she was on his lap. The press of her body, her legs wrapped around his hips, and the tight grip of her fingers in his hair turned his shocked startled gasp quickly into a passionate one. His lips immediately softened against hers, the play of his tongue darting forth was instinctual, and he felt himself immediately begin to harden beneath the warmth of her body. The question of why she had suddenly accosted him was quickly answered when he heard the click of the door over the train tracks, and the deep German 'Guten Tag."

Shit. Shit, shit, damn it all to hell.

But Estella's cleverness did not end there. He felt her guiding his face into her neck and his lips trailed across the delicate arc, finding her pulse. Even as she gasped, he was lost in the scent of her. He had flicked away the cigarette and palmed his way along her ass and the small of her back on his way to weave his finger through the short hairs at the base of her skull. One eye peeked at the officer from behind her pert jawline, half glaring and half asking the intruder to leave them to their activities.

He saw the cold, soulless eyes and the long face staring at them. This was a man who cared nothing for humanity. His perfect uniform and his short, blond hair offset by the ice in his gaze.

Leonard let out a sigh near her ear. He could feel the wispy movement against his lips as he groaned lightly. In his crisp, British accent he supported her statement. The hand that was not gripping the base of her head had clamped over her thigh, and now he felt the tension in his fingers as he held her. "Just a little privacy," he agreed, "before the Count comes looking for his woman." He turned his face away from the door as if he was looking at her more closely. "She is a fine woman, is she not?"

Just the night before he had been envious of Alexander for his paramour, and now Leonard was holding her. Had kissed her. Though the circumstances were less than desirable, he had a momentary thought, that if this was the last kiss he would remember from his days of freedom, he was glad it was with her.
 
Name: Jane Marple
Location: Sleeping Car/Murder scene/her compartment
@Vinaein @Traveler @Shiva the Cat

Jane was not quite as unfazed by the murder as she might appear but she had seen he fair share of dead bodies and then some over the last 20 years. Oddly enough it aroused curiousity in her rather than fear or disgust. She had always had a mind for working out puzzles and mysteries and her mind was already working at figuring out what might have happened. She managed to catch a glance into the sleeping compartment to get a look at the dead woman. It was not someone she had seen on the train before but there was a vague resemblance about her that she couldn't quite put her finger on. What was unmistakably clear was that she had been strangled, and considering her position and the puddle between her legs she had been strangled where she was found. The question now was who she was, what she was doing there and when she had boarded the train. The latter of those was of course the easiest to deduce. She must have boarded sometime during the night.

Jane also noticed Estella clinging to Leo rather than to her previous friend, the East-European gentleman of old-fashioned style which she found to be a bit odd and made a mental note of it, and of confronting the vaudeville singer about the initials on her briefcase at a later time. Now was certainly not the time or place to draw unnecessary attention to her, especially not since she gathered from the chatter around her that Estella had been the second person to enter the murder scene. Second could mean one of two things, either she had nothing to do with the murder or she had returned to the scene to retrieve something that might incriminate her. What reason would Estella have to murder this woman though. Could the dead woman be an enemy agent having lured Estella into the empty compartment to forcibly take the briefcase to destroy its contents by triggering the explosive locks. Perhaps, and perhaps ... no ... After her own little wrestling match with Estella only a few hours ago she just couldn't see Estella overpowering and strangling someone and make away unseen. It just didn't make any sense. Estella might still be a murderess but Jane was positively certain that she was innocent of this one.

The East-European gentleman was perhaps a more likely suspect. There was something about him she didn't quite trust to be what it appeared to be. The man obviously had secrets of his own. Then there was of course her own breakfast company. The way Leo had rushed off as if there was a fire did strike her as suspicious. It had almost been as if he needed to be the first to arrive, before the Gestapo, before anyone else, perhaps with the motivation of making sure he had not left any evidence behind. The murder had after all occurred right next to his compartment and he had seemingly not heard a thing. That was suspicious indeed since he had made a point of having heard her won little scuffle with Estella which was two doors down from his. He certainly had the opportunity if perhaps not yet a motive but it was Jane's experience that motive often was the last piece to be revealed.

Then there was Walsh of course who had supposedly also slept through the night. It was at that moment it dawned on her. Walsh, a dead woman found in an empty compartment. Could this be the courier he was supposed to meet. If that was the case then this murder might have serious implications. It still didn't remove him as a suspect though. Jane's orders had been clear. Keep a close eye on him. Perhaps the S.I.S didn't quite trust him to not be playing both sides. For all she knew it might even have been a test of his loyalties to have him meet a courier on his way to Istanbul.

As the uniformed Gestapo officer from the dining car took charge of the crime scene and made sure to keep the other passengers away from it. Jane slipped into her own compartment with one last glance around the corridor, her eyes briefly meeting Aleks'.
 
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