Murder Is At Hand.

Chapter 6.

"Not a clue where I'm going with this" I murmured. Instead of going to the lounge, I had changed my mind, and was now sitting on a tiny upstairs balcony, completely alone, and hoping Commander Armstrong was going to keep his appointment. My doubts were coming from a little sketch on a napkin I had started doodling. It was supposed to be one of the roses on the climbing plant a few metres away, but currently it only looked like a flower if I squinted, and also looked suspiciously like a toilet bowl if I turned it on its side, so I drew a few extra lines and decided to label it a contemporary piece.

"Miss Winter?"

I quickly flipped the napkin the other way up and looked around. Commander Armstrong was standing by the balcony door, and as he crossed over to sit on the chair opposite me I surreptitiously slid my feet off it and sat up straight.

"You've taken your time coming to talk to me" he commented, and I nodded politely.

"The testimonials of the men in the room are the most important evidence I have. Therefore, I decided to leave them until last."

I was spouting nonsense, I knew that, but I hoped the Commander wouldn't ask any more awkward questions. That was my job.

"So" I continued brightly. "Tell me everything you remember about the evening. From when you entered the room, to when Grange died. I mean everything."

The commander regarded me heavily. I didn't back down. I needed his evidence, since Newham and Nesbitt were both ill in bed and chances were their memories weren't going to be up to scratch. We sat in silence for a few minutes until the Commander gave in.

"Very well" he said. "I entered the room at about nine o'clock. I..."

"Who organised the game?" I asked suddenly, interrupting him. When he glared at me, I corrected myself.

"I mean, how did it come about that a man in your position and rank came to be playing poker with two soldiers and a lieutenant?"

The commander's glare intensified.

"You suspect me of murdering the boy?" he said weightily.

"I suspect all three of you" I replied calmly. "I even suspect Nathan Grange himself. It could have been suicide. It's my job to remain impartial until enough evidence has been collected. And, if I may say so, what you say to me now will undoubtedly be the most solid evidence I'm going to get, since Newham and Nesbitt are both ill. Now, who organized the game?"

The commander paused, as if he was thinking.

"It wasn't organised" he told me gruffly. "I was walking back from dinner when suddenly that soldier boy, the one that's still alive, Nesbitt or something, poked his head out the door and asked if I'd join them for a game. He was very... persuasive."

I nodded.

"Thank you. Now, go on from there."

The commander hesitated again, seemingly gathering his thoughts.

"As I said, it was about nine when I entered the room. We sat down-"

"Can you remember where you all were sitting?" I asked. "Sir?"

My addition of 'sir' seemed to calm the irritated bubble that rose in Armstrong's features. He sighed.

"I believe I was facing the door, with Lieutenant Newham on my left. The dead boy was opposite me, and the other on my right."

"Did you...stay that way for the whole evening?" I asked curiously. That description didn't add up with what I knew to be true. Grange's body had been on the chair facing the door.