Writer 1879: Solitary Journey in France

Chapter 624 It's more interesting to be a murderer! (Seeking monthly votes!)
Countess La Rochefoucauld turned to the young lady who was playing the role of a maid.

She was Princess Polignac's niece, Emilie de Polignac, who had just entered Parisian social circles.

The Countess asked, "Miss Maid, you saw that 'mysterious man' when you got off at Rennes station, didn't you?"

Emily nodded nervously: "Yes, I saw it."

The Countess pressed further: "You said he was wearing a light-colored coat, a travel hat, and had black hair at the back of his head, but you couldn't see his face clearly. Am I right?"

Emily continued to nod like a chick pecking at rice, answering according to the script: "Yes, madam."

The Countess continued, "But you described the deceased's clothing earlier—a white fur brimless hat, a blue tweed coat and skirt, and steel blue."

She paused, staring into Emily's eyes: "Your description of the deceased's clothing was incredibly precise. Precise to the color, material, style... every single detail."

But regarding that 'mysterious man,' you only described him as 'wearing a light-colored coat and a travel hat'—very vague. We can see dozens or even hundreds of such men every day.

Why is there such a big difference? Why are you specifically emphasizing the deceased's clothing?

Emily paused for a moment, then clearly panicked.

The Countess pushed two clue cards in front of her: "But look, the 'lady' the newsboy saw at Laval station—"

She was wearing a blue coat and a white fur hat. She gave the newsboy a two-franc tip and remarked, "The cover girl in blue suits me perfectly."

She looked into Emily's eyes: "A two-franc tip, at that small station, is a day's earnings for an average person. Why did she give so much?"

This was so the newsboy would remember her. Remember her clothes, her blue coat, her white hat. The newsboy wasn't lying.

The room was extremely quiet.

The Countess continued, "Then, near Vitre, someone threw a knife out of a window, and it landed on the railway tracks, which seemed to be the scene of the crime."

She then picked up the clue card for the "pawnshop ledger"—

"Then, someone pawned a huge jade in Paris. The cloth wrapped around the jade had white fur fibers and a faint smell of chloroform."

She put down the card and looked at everyone: "Gentlemen, what does this chain of clues point to?"

No one spoke.

The Countess herself answered: "Someone anesthetized the deceased with chloroform, then killed her, and then changed into the same conspicuous clothes as the deceased and continued to ride in the carriage."

At the small station, she deliberately made sure people saw that 'the lady was still alive,' especially impressing the newsboys. Then she threw the knife to mislead the area where the crime occurred, and finally got off the train and turned back.

The play she was to perform was called 'I've Been Waiting for the Mistress.'

Her gaze fell on Emily: "Anyone who can do all this must meet several conditions. First, they must be able to get close to the dead without arousing suspicion."
Second, they can prepare matching clothes and hats in advance; third, they can control chloroform, which is not commonly used; and fourth, they know the deceased's schedule.

Fifth, being able to get off at Rennes station without attracting attention—

She paused, her eyes sharp: "Miss Maid, how many of these five conditions do you meet?"

Emily opened her mouth as if to say something, but didn't.

The Countess picked up the clue card that read "Pry marks on maid's suitcase": "Also, why are there pry marks on your suitcase?"
You said you've been guarding your luggage, but the lock was pried open with a thin thread. Who did it? Why?

Without waiting for an answer, she continued, "And that same white fur brimless hat. You said it was an old item from the mistress of the house, which she gave to you."

But if it's an old item, why are there no signs of wear? It looks newly made.

Emily's face paled slightly, as if a huge secret had truly been exposed.

The Countess put down the card in her hand and smiled: "Miss, you killed Mrs. Frosty Carrington, am I right?"

The room was so quiet you could hear the wind outside the window, and everyone was looking at Emily.

Emily was silent for a few seconds, then let out a long sigh.

Her expression changed; she was no longer the dull, diligent little maid, but a tired, exposed woman.

She smiled, a smile that held both helplessness and relief, and then she uttered her "closing remarks":
"Ladies always think that servants only know how to bow their heads. But those who bow their heads know best where you hide your money..."

Mrs. Rothschild closed the presenter's manual, a satisfied smile on her face.

She stood up and announced: "The reasoning is correct. The murderer is the maid, Countess La Rochefoucauld, you have succeeded."

The Countess breathed a sigh of relief, leaned back in her chair, closed her eyes, and felt a sensation in her heart that defied description.

For more than two hours, she listened, took notes, and thought.

Those seemingly unrelated clues, those contradictory testimonies, those deliberately emphasized details and deliberately concealed silences...

She pieced them together, one by one, like a jigsaw puzzle.

Several times, she considered giving up and just pointing to someone to end the relationship.

But she held back. She told herself to think it over, to listen again, and to observe more.

Then, at some point, all the fragments suddenly pieced themselves together—not that she found the truth, but that the truth found her.

That feeling was more satisfying than winning any hand of cards or any bet.

Mrs. Rothschild said softly to her, "You've worked hard."

Everyone else was just as exhausted.

More than two hours of focused concentration, constantly talking, thinking, guessing, and refuting... everyone was exhausted.

The Duchess of Uizes gently wiped her forehead with a handkerchief: "Good heavens, I've never been so tired. More tired than attending a ball all day."

Princess Polignac picked up her teacup, her hand trembling slightly. "Me too. I played the husband, and I had to keep pretending to be both innocent and suspicious. It was so difficult." Emily, who had just been exposed as the "murderer," seemed the most relaxed.

She tossed the character card onto the table and let out a long sigh of relief: "Finally, I don't have to pretend anymore. I almost confessed when I was being stared at just now."

Everyone laughed.

After resting for a while, servants brought in fresh tea, snacks, and coffee. The ladies chatted in small groups about the games they had just played, exchanging their thoughts.

Duchess Huys suddenly sighed and said with some regret, "It's a pity that this game can only be played once. After you know that the real culprit is the maid, playing it again is just looking for clues in the answers, which is no fun."

The others nodded in agreement. Indeed, the greatest enjoyment of these deduction and puzzle games lies in the guessing and reasoning involved when the answer is unknown.

Once you know the ending, playing it again is like rereading a novel whose ending you already know—it's utterly boring.

Mrs. Rothschild smiled slightly: "Who says the real culprit must be the 'maid'?"

The Duchess of Uizes was stunned: "What do you mean?"

Mrs. Rothschild picked up a card from the table: "You see, the maid's card doesn't directly say 'I am the murderer'."

She then revealed one of the cards separately: "This card is what truly determines who the murderer is."

The card has the word "murderer" printed on the front.

"I gave this card to the real killer during the second act, mixed in with the plot cards. In other words, that's when the killer himself knew who he was."

She looked at the surprised expressions on everyone's faces and said, "So, the same character cards, the same script, but different murderer cards can lead to completely different endings."

Looking at the astonished faces, she felt a surge of excitement at the feeling of possessing an exclusive secret.

She recalled how Lionel had taught her the "advanced gameplay" of this deck a few days earlier.

Lionel designed three different endings for this deck, each pointing to a different murderer and providing different clues for solving the case.

The first version, where the maid is the murderer—that's the version the ladies just played, and it's also the initial version of this game.

In the second version, the husband hired someone to commit murder—the maid was hired by the husband, and the real mastermind was Rupert Carrington.

In the third edition, the Earl's extortion went awry—the Earl was indeed in the carriage that night, but he wasn't there to kill; he was there to extort money from the victim.
An argument ensued, he accidentally killed someone, and then asked his maid to help dispose of the body and jewelry.

The two later advanced versions also added a faction system.

Maid, husband, count, father... for money, for dignity, for honor, they each took their own positions, whether they were aware of it or not.

People from different camps can cross over to each other, and the key points of their testimonies will change accordingly.

Even the victim's father might have helped the murderer cover it up out of fear that the love letters would be exposed and to save face...

So even if the murderer is ultimately pointed to the maid, the chain of evidence in the deduction has been fundamentally changed.

Moreover, when people play this game a second time, they will definitely be more cautious and adjust their testimony strategies, making it less easy for others to find fault with them.

The person playing "Poirot" must make a logical new interpretation based on the new evidence, and cannot simply point at the maid and say "this is the murderer".

Is an "open-book" exam really easier than a "closed-book" exam?
Mrs. Rothschild waved the deck of cards in her hand: "Didn't you notice that there are still so many cards that haven't been dealt?"
If these cards are useless, what's the point of printing them? Do you think the game Lionel invented would be a 'one-off' game?

She looked at the stunned faces and smiled slightly: "We'll replay the game with different murderer cards, and the clue cards and plot cards will also be updated..."

At this point, the summary Lionel gave her after teaching her how to play it came to mind, and she couldn't help but blurt it out.
"In the real world, there is no such thing as 'only one truth.' Everyone has their own truth, and everyone's truth is different."

A long silence followed in the room. Mrs. Rothschild, legs crossed, reclined gracefully on the sofa, smiling as she observed everyone's reactions.

After a long while, the Duchess of Uizes let out a long sigh: "My God... how many times will this play before it's over?"

Then her eyes lit up: "Next time I want to be the murderer! This time I played the husband, and it was so tiring pretending to be innocent the whole time. Next time I want to play a real villain!"

Emily perked up: "I want to be the murderer too! I was caught this time because I had no experience. Next time I'm going to fool everyone!"

Countess La Rochefoucauld couldn't help but laugh: "It seems I'll have to be an accomplice next time and experience what it's like to lie."

Mrs. Rothschild looked at them and nodded almost imperceptibly.

Now, these ladies' interest hasn't waned; in fact, it's soared even higher. And this time, everyone wants to be the murderer.

She smiled and asked, "Shall we begin in a moment?"

"it is good!"

"I can't wait!"

"Come on, let's see if 'Poirot' has the ability this time!"

The ladies responded enthusiastically, as excited as a group of young girls going to a ball.

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And the same scene is playing out simultaneously in countless salons in Paris—

Everyone who has played "Murder on the Brest Express" is talking about wanting to be the murderer next time, to experience the thrill of fooling everyone.

Nobody wanted to be "Poirot" anymore.

After all, being a detective is too tiring; being a murderer is much more interesting.

(End of second update, thank you everyone!)
　What I'm writing here isn't a typical "murder mystery game," but rather its precursor, a live role-playing game at a banquet—"The Murder Mystery."

　　
　
(End of this chapter)