Getting Away With Murder [FICTOID]

The temperature dropped severely on the deck of the S.S. Snow Queen as it pulled out of Amsterdam.

On the other side of the dikes, quaint old fashioned windmills turned slowly in the breeze; several miles offshore their giant modern cousins turned to generate electricity.

Bardo watched Holland disappear from view then entered the cruise ship’s lounge.  Elderly couples laughed and drank; he ignored them and ordered a wine, sitting by himself in a corner booth.

“I have to admit you were pretty clever,” the inspector said.  She was a fragile looking woman in her mid-30s but Bardo knew that fragility masked great strength.

“Whatever do you mean?” he asked.

“We know you forged his suicide note,” she said.  “We know you doped your childhood enemy and put him under the grindstone of a windmill.  We know…but we can’t prove.”

“Ah.  Well, then come to me when you can prove it.”

“Think you’ll get away with it?” the inspect asked, instantly regretting it.

“First, I have nothing to ‘get away’ from to begin with,” said Bardo.  “Second, if I had done something I need to flee, yes, I am getting away with it.

“Where’s your gun?” he asked, noticing she carried no firearm.

“I am retired,” she said, “in the wake of your successful homicide.”

“Then please, sit.  Let me buy you a wine.”

So she sat, and they talked, and they discussed many pleasant things, such as the ship’s destination and the cypress trees that grew there and the horseback riding and exploring the ancient imperial tunnels.

And in the end she got her man without endangering anyone:  She married him.

© Buzz Dixon