Everyone on This Train Is a Suspect

My phone’s reception had continued to deteriorate, and by this point clung to a thread. I sent a text to Juliette. And an email. And another text.

Then I tried to squeeze some backstory googling in. I know, it’s lazy detecting. But cut me some slack. Mystery writers these days always have to find a way to take away their crime-solvers’ phones because otherwise the reader sits there the whole time thinking, Google it! My Golden Age compatriots didn’t have to work around this, there was no Oh no, Sherlock Holmes can’t access his Encyclopaedia Britannicas because someone lost the key to the library!

I started, because I was losing faith in Royce’s medical pedigree, with the symptoms of heroin overdoses. Google begrudgingly (or perhaps that was just me) confirmed the symptoms in Royce’s favor. Next I searched for “Henry McTavish limp,” which didn’t get me much (except for reviews of his second book, his worst received, where limp was used adjectivally), and then for details of his accident, which proved more fruitful. An image of an unrecognizable, purple-faced and heavily bandaged McTavish shuddered onto my phone screen like it was an incoming fax. Surgeons had to almost entirely re-skin his leg. This was in 2004, between the publication of his second and third novels. How had Simone put his writing of the third novel? Kidney stones. Recovering from an accident like that, though, no wonder it had been tough.

Still nothing from Juliette. I began to wonder if I was in internet range but not messaging reception—I’m not really sure if that theory holds up technologically, but it succeeded in making me feel momentarily better until my phone dinged and disproved it. Disappointingly, it was a text from Andy.

“I’ve got my list of suspects. Statistically speaking, it’s most likely to be the ex-husband.”

I sent one back: “Yes, that sounds reasonable. Jealousy. Anger. All good motives.”

Andy messaged quickly. “Great. Problem is she doesn’t have an ex-husband. She does have a husband though.”

I replied: “If she doesn’t have an ex-husband, why is one on your list of suspects?”

There was a pause while Andy, bless him, tried to think.

“Apparently it’s likely,” he replied.

I texted: “Apparently?”

“I fed in all the details here”—he sent me a link—“and that’s the most probable.”

I clicked the link, which took me to ChatGPT, the open-source AI software that had taken the world by storm, much to the consternation of universities everywhere whose students were using it to write their essays. While it was indeed an impressive piece of software, it was quite a scary proposition for both those whose careers were typing words and those who’d seen The Terminator. You could put anything to it, and it would spit you out a response, from “Write me a five-hundred-word essay on ancient Egypt” to, in Andy’s case, writing the bio on his website or “Who robbed the old lady’s flower shop?” Of course Andy was into AI; he’s able to maintain a straight face while using the word fungible, plus he can declare that crypto is the future while arguing he’s been shortchanged coins at a café. I was tempted to type in “How do I call my uncle an idiot but make it sound constructive?” But I didn’t think AI would have the plethora of curse words I required.

I texted him back: “AI is no replacement for the human brain, Andy. But humor me. What are Skynet’s other suspects?”

The good thing about insulting Andy is that sometimes all you have to do is set him up to do it to himself. He replied: “Undercover FBI agent . . . And then a satanic death cult.”

There was a pause, then Andy texted again. “Okay, point taken. Night.”

My internet lagged out, then blipped in. I turned my attention back to my research. This time I went to the Morbund’s Mongrels forum on Reddit. The most recent post was titled The Dawn Rises—Spoiler Discussion. I had half expected the news of McTavish’s death to break, but evidently it hadn’t filtered out yet.

I scrolled through the thread. People were discussing the latest release, and many were anguished about the end of Detective Morbund. One post drew my attention:

MongrelWrangler22 (admin):