"They were all present tonight," Howell noted. "Lord Calvin Henke and Justin Zyrr both stayed close to the Queen. The Honorable Michelle shadowed the young Crown Prince."
"The House of Winton and its offshoots have always been clannish," Seltman said. "Although I don't have Jean's gift for analysis, I still suspect that the Queen's next candidate will be a family member. Paula, I suggest that you begin to lay groundwork for why this would be unacceptable."
"I'll do what I can," she promised. "Certainly, Earl Howell can't. It would look too much like self-interest."
Jean Marrou stood, balancing herself lightly against the back of her chair. "If we are finished with tonight's discussion, I believe I will make my way to my hotel. If I'm too late screening my husband, he'll screen and wonder why I'm still out."
"You could screen from here," Seltman offered.
"No, I would be more comfortable among my own things." She smiled. "Besides, if I am to attend the viewing during the Queen's vigil, I need to rise early to make some inquiries."
"Good night then," Seltman said.
The earl, with the instinctive social courtesy of his rank, rose and walked her to the door.
Deep in her own thoughts as she left the hotel, Jean Marrou switched off the small computer unit that regularly scanned her environment and reported on those present. Even if she had not been distracted, it is doubtful that she would have taken note of the security guard who held the door for her or bothered to run a cross-check to learn that she had encountered the man before at the estate of the Earl of North Hollow.
As predicted by many, Lord Jacob Wundt was not confirmed as Regent for young Queen Elizabeth. After heated debate, a vote was taken and Parliament sent its regretful refusal.
"We'll wait until tomorrow to name Aunt Caitrin as our next choice," Elizabeth said to Dame Eliska and the Queen Mother. "That will give ample opportunity for the pundits and politicos to guess."
"Should I put out any hints?" Paderweski asked.
"No," Elizabeth said decisively. "I think not. Simply state that I regret the result of Parliament's vote and will be reviewing their objections to Lord Wundt before selecting my next nominee."
"Acid, Beth," Queen Angelique commented. "Your father would be proud."
"Thanks," Elizabeth grinned. "Now, I believe I have a few hours in my schedule to spend with Justin. If you would excuse me?"
"Of course, Your Majesty," Dame Eliska said, concealing a slight smile.
"Have fun, dear," Queen Angelique added. "And give Justin my love."
Ariel romping beside her, Elizabeth hurried off to her suite in King Michael's Tower. Justin, his handsome features somber, was waiting. After they had embraced, Elizabeth sat him down firmly and planted herself in his lap.
"Tell me, Justin," she said. "I don't need to be as sensitive as Ariel to know that you have found something out—and that you don't like what you've learned."
Taking a deep breath, Justin said, "I have every reason to believe that you were correct in believing that the King was assassinated."
As concisely as if he were presenting an experiment report, Justin told her of his visit to the Indigo Salt Flats, of his meeting with Daniel Chou, and, finally, of their conclusions. When he finished, Elizabeth's eyes shone with tears.
"I knew," she whispered, "but I so wanted to be wrong."
"You might as well have been for all the evidence we found," Justin said flatly. "Chou is right. Negative evidence won't hold up in court. We need something more."
"Chou is checking the records for who was at the Flats that day?" Elizabeth queried.
"That's right."
"Then we can't despair until we know what he learned. Justin, you must be my ears and eyes in this. With the Regency confirmation and the wake, I cannot spare attention."
She squared her shoulders. "Until we know beyond a shadow of a doubt that this is the Kingdom's business, I must apply myself to ongoing problems."
"Problems?
"Nothing that I can't handle with Cromarty and Mother's advice, but the existing business of the Star Kingdom didn't stop simply because the King died. Already there are those who are trying to use this period of transition to their advantage."
"That's hardly fair!"
"No it isn't, but my Parliament is filled with canny politicians. I may not agree with their tactics, but I'm rather like a starship captain who takes battle damage in a skirmish and then finds an enemy squadron bearing down. There simply isn't time to complain about fairness."
Justin nodded agreement and chuckled. "It still isn't fair."
"True," Elizabeth squeezed his hand, "but it could be worse."
"How?"
"I could be facing this without you."
Chou wasn't very hopeful when he met Justin late that morning.
"I've checked," he said, "and I have the names of everyone on duty on the chalet on the day of the King's death and for a week before. No one on the list has the least blemish on record, not that I expected to find any."
"No," Justin agreed. "Anyone on report would have been put on duty elsewhere. The Star Kingdom doesn't take risks with its monarchs."
"And," Chou continued remorselessly, "I've run mock-ups based on the available data and there are numerous ways the accident could have been caused. The most likely is a small receiver set mounted on the ski and controlled by remote."
"Wouldn't that have been found during the diagnostic?"
"It would if it was set in the ski's own works," Chou said, "but if it was placed in a strap or within a bit of decoration . . ."
"Or if the person doing the diagnostic chose to overlook it," Justin added. "Did you find out who dissuaded the King from using the ski set that Beth gave him?"
Chou nodded. "It was a member of the King's Guard named Padraic Dover. He's a native of Gryphon and has an impeccable record."
"I've met him," Justin said. "He's been on the Palace staff since Beth was eight or ten. That doesn't make him a likely suspect."
"No," Chou agreed, "but that's exactly what we need to look for—an unlikely suspect. There is no one who is likely."
The two men sat in silent meditation, Chou stroking his drooping mustache, Zyrr frowning and chewing on his inner lip.
"I suppose I'd better speak with Dover," Chou said at last. "Do you want to attend?"
"Why don't I speak with him?" Justin suggested. "If you call on him he's going to know that something is up. Even if he's innocent, a casual mention of the interview could start rumors."
"The PGS questioning a member of the Queen's Own," Chou mused. "Yes, it might raise questions. You can talk to him more casually. But I'd like to be present—concealed—if possible."
"We can work something out. Can you get into my suite at the Palace without being noticed?"
Chou merely smiled.
"Then before I leave here I'll try to set up an appointment with Dover so you know when to meet us."
Twenty minutes later, Zyrr had made the appointment for later that same day. Returning to the Mount Royal complex, he was accosted by Michelle Henke.
"Hi, Mike."
"Justin! You're the very man I was hoping to find."
Zyrr doubted that the Honorable Michelle had found him by accident. Already, the confident young woman left little to chance.
"What can I do for you?"
"It's Monroe. He's becoming increasingly despondent. We're worried that he's going to suicide. He won't tolerate anyone but immediate family near him, so we've been taking turns sitting with him, but right now everyone is scheduled elsewhere. Michael and I are set to be at the viewing next; Calvin is out meeting with some of the young turks, trying to sway their vote for one of Beth's projects, Mom is—"