“He was poisoned.” I said. “What’s your name?”
She hesitated. “Terese,” she said. “Terese German.”
“Frank Compton,” I introduced myself in return. “How well did you know Master Colix?”
“Hardly at all,” Terese said, looking at Kennrick again.
“You didn’t talk to him?” Kennrick asked.
Terese hunched her shoulders. “Mostly I read or listened to music.”
“But you must have at least occasionally talked to him,” Kennrick persisted. “You’ve been sitting together for the past two weeks, after all.”
“He’s the one who did all the talking,” Terese growled. “Mostly about his job. Oh, and he showed me a few holos of his family, too.”
“He was married?” I asked.
A shadow of something crossed her face. “No, they were pictures of his parents and brothers,” she said.
“Are you married?” Kennrick asked.
“Is that any of your business?” she countered stiffly, giving him an icy look.
“I was just wondering if you were traveling alone.” he said in a tone of slightly wounded innocence.
“Then ask that,” the girl bit out.
“Our apologies,” I said hastily. “Are you traveling alone?”
“Yes,” she said.
“Do you remember Master Colix mentioning feeling ill prior to tonight?” I asked.
“Not to me,” she said. She let her glare linger on Kennrick another couple of seconds, apparently making sure he got the message, then looked back at me. “As far as I could tell, he felt fine. At least, up to a couple of hours ago.”
“What did he say?” I asked.
“Nothing,” she said. “But he was shifting in his seat a lot and making these funny noises.”
“What kind of noises? What did they sound like?”
“Mostly uncomfortable-sounding grunts,” she said. “Like his stomach was bothering him.”
I gestured toward her abdomen. “Like the way your stomach was bothering you a minute ago?”
“It’s not the same thing.” she said tartly.
“How do you know?” I countered.
“I’ve got some stomach trouble, that’s all,” she insisted. “Nothing I’m going to die from.”
“Okay,” I said, wondering if Colix had been thinking the same thing up to the point where the doctors started poking hypos into him. “What happened then?”
“I was just wondering it I should give up and go to the bar for a while to get away from the noise when he got out of his seat and headed back to his friends,” she said.
“How long ago was this?” Kennrick asked.
“Like I said, a couple of hours,” she told him.
“Any chance you can pin it down a little more closely?” he asked.
“No, I can’t,” she said. “I was trying to sleep. I wasn’t exactly looking at my watch.”
“That’s all right,” I assured her. “Did anything in particular happen just prior to that time? Had he just returned from the dining car, or had a snack?”
“Or had he been talking to anyone other than you and his other seatmate?” Kennrick asked.
“He hadn’t been anywhere or done anything that I saw.” Terese nodded at Kennrick. “And the only visitor I saw was you.”
I frowned at Kennrick. “You were back here this evening?”
“Early afternoon,” he corrected. “I was working on the plans for a traditional Shorshic halfway-celebration meal for next week and wanted Master Colix’s advice on menu and procedure.”
“I low long was this before the uncomfortable grunts started?” I asked Terese.
“Oh, hours,” she said. “He had dinner afterwards. And if he had any snacks, I didn’t see them.”
Dead end. “Did Master Colix go anywhere else this evening? Maybe back to talk with his colleagues a couple of rows back?”
“No.” Terese hesitated. “Actually, I had the feeling he didn’t get along too well with them.”
“How so?”
“For one thing, he didn’t want to sit with them,” she said. “The Nemut in the aisle seat offered to trade with him right after we left Homshil, but he turned him down.”
I looked at Kennrick. “And you didn’t notice any of this undercurrent during your meetings on Earth?”
“No. but that doesn’t necessarily mean anything,” he said. “Shorshians are very good at social compartmentalization. They can all behave in a perfectly friendly way in a business setting even if they personally can’t stand each other.”
“Not even now that they’re on their way home?” I asked. “Wouldn’t one of them have at least mentioned it?”
“They wouldn’t have mentioned it to me,” Kennrick said. “I work for Pellorian Medical, so wherever I am is by definition a business setting. Ditto whenever the Shorshians are with any of the four Filiaelians in our group.”
“Are any of the Filiaelians in this car?” I asked, glancing around.
“No, they’re all up in first,” he said. “And I doubt any of them has made the trek back here since the trip started.” He cocked an eyebrow. “But the fact the Shorshians won’t talk about their problems to me doesn’t mean they won’t open up to you.”
I made a face. “In other words, it’s time for me to nudge, shake, or otherwise drag Master Bofiv back to the land of the living?”
“Just be persistent,” Kennrick advised. “As you saw, they do wake up eventually.”
He headed back toward Bofiv’s scat. “Nice guy,” Terese muttered.
“He’s all that,” I agreed, getting back to my feet. “Thanks for your time.”
I joined Kennrick at Bofiv’s row. The Shorshian was still lying on his back, his inner eyelids closed. As far as I could tell, he hadn’t moved at all since our arrival. “Master Bofiv?” I called softly, giving his arm a cautious shake.
There was no response. “Master Bofiv?” I called again, wiggling the arm a little harder.
Still nothing. I glanced toward the front of the car, wondering if there might be a Spider nearby who I could commandeer for this duty. There wasn’t, but I did note that Terese was leaning around her seat watching us.
I turned back to Bofiv. “Master Bofiv, I need to talk to you,” I said. I shook his arm again, still without effect, then reached up to try patting the side of his neck.
It was cold. Not cold in the way a sleeping person’s skin might get if he forgot to tuck his blanket all the way up to his chin. Bofiv’s skin was much colder.
I pulled out my flashlight and flicked it on. The deep shadows had hidden his skin earlier, but I could see now that it had the same mottling that Colix’s skin had shown there at the end.
I gazed down at his empty face, a hard knot forming in my stomach. No one was going to be nudging, shaking, or otherwise dragging Bofiv back to the land of the living. Not anymore.
I looked back at Terese. She was still peering around the side of her seat, her curiosity starting to drift over into uncertainty. “What’s the matter?” she stage-whispered.
“Do me a favor,” I told her. “Go find a conductor and tell him that I need him and another Spider back here right away. And have them get Dr. Witherspoon out of the second/third dispensary and bring him along.”
Terese got out of her seat, her eyes on Bofiv’s still form. “Is he sick?” she asked.
“No,” I told her. “He’s dead.”
“Without tests I can’t be certain,” Dr. Witherspoon said as he straightened up. “But in my opinion, he died from the same poison that killed Master Colix.”
I looked down at the dispensary’s treatment table, where the late Master Bofiv now lay side by side with the late Master Colix. It was a cozy fit. “Great,” I said. “We’ve got a pattern going.”
“God help us all,” Kennrick muttered. “What are we talking about, Doc, some kind of plague?” He looked pointedly over at the server Spider again standing unobtrusive vigil on the other side of the dispensary. “Something new the Spiders’ fancy sensor net let slip through?”