The Mystery on the Train A deafening screech caused three doors to come flying open and a different head popped out of each one. The conductor smiled at them from the end of the corridor, rising to his feet. "Please, there is no problem," he assured them. "At this point in our journey, the journey gets a little rough. It is just the noise from the train, that is all." "Bloody mechanics," snorted the heavily built man with a sandy moustache. "Is this train safe, then?" "Oh yes, sir, there is nothing to worry about," Igor, the young conductor, repeated. "We will arrive in Moscow in about twenty minutes." The man grunted once and returned to his compartment. The lady opposite him, whose extraordinary hat filled most of the corridor, looked down at the rather short man from her rather tall height, aided by stunningly impractical heels. "If that is the case, I should like a pot of tea and a tray of biscuits delivered to my compartment as soon as possible. Don't forget: cream, not milk, and always in its separate jug - silver, not any of this tin rubbish." "At once, Mrs Der Layman." Igor bowed and the lady retreated into her compartment. He breathed a sigh of relief and gave a nervous smile to the one remaining passenger, her chestnut brown curls cut into a neat bob. She looked the sensible type, he thought, pretty but clever, the sort of girl who became a teacher or a nurse. So English. He wondered what she was doing here, far from home. He glanced once at the card on her door, written in an upright hand: "Miss Vera Cartwright". "Can I help you, miss?" he asked. Vera responded in his native Russian - fluently, but with a strong English accent. "Oh, no, thank you. I was just wondering if the other gentleman was alright." He hid his surprise well at her choice of language. "The other gentleman, miss?" "The man in the compartment opposite. He didn't come out, and that noise would have woken the dead." Igor smiled. "He may be asleep, miss. I'm sure he's quite alright. I will wake him when we reach Moscow." The girl nodded, flashed him a smile, and turned back to her compartment. Igor was right about the track, Vera mused, as the words of her book began to jolt before her eyes. The rhythm of the train had now escalated to a cacophony of metallic grating and groaning, which continued for several minutes. Relaxing or reading was rendered impossible, so she put away her book and instead watched the countryside unfurl before her eyes. It wasn't long before the train began to slow and the journey became quieter, and Vera peered ahead to see the largest of Moscow's stations wind into view. The snow on the ground sparkled... like magic. She put on her hat and coat, for she knew the train might well stop for twenty minutes and she needed to stretch her legs. The narrow corridor was blocked with people and shouts. The Mrs Der Layman was talking quickly in a high voice, the man with the moustache talking slowly in a low voice. And Ivor was pushing between them, his slight frame swamped by the much taller passengers, all gathering around the door of the elderly businessman. Vera added her voice to the commotion. "What's going on?" Igor looked up at her in relief. "Miss! It's that man you were worried about. I came to inform him that the train was arriving at Moscow, but his door is locked and I cannot seem to wake him." "You have a pass key! Why the hell don't you open it up?" muttered the man, turning sideways to get through the corridor to his own room. "Idiots, the lot of you. Now, stop disturbing me. I have some extremely important business to be getting along with." He slammed the door to his compartment. Mrs Der Layman sighed. "Honestly. A little calm will always suffice in a crisis, a little calm. Remember that, dear." She patted Vera's shoulder condescendingly. "Now then. Get the door open, quickly, before we fear the worst and call the police!" "Yes, yes, madam, I will -" Igor fumbled in his pocket for the key and unlocked the door. "Mr Harvey, sir? Mr Harvey? Are you alright?" Igor's scream shattered the air. "Oh my god!" Vera pushed her way behind Mrs Der Layman into the tiny compartment. It was identical to her own - a small bed which doubled as a sofa, a sink, and a small wooden cabinet. Lying in the bed was the body of an elderly gentleman, blood trickling from a wound in his chest. "Oh!" Mrs Der Layman sank to the floor in a sea of purple. Ignoring her, Vera stepped over her unconscious body and felt for a pulse. Her eyes flashed up at Igor. "I'm afraid he's dead. Get some brandy for Mrs Der Layman, and take her back to her compartment." When they had left, Vera regarded the scene. A bottle of sleeping tablets stood on the cabinet, only half full. Mr Harvey's wire-rimmed glasses were neatly folded next to them. The murder weapon - a sharp kitchen knife - was still in the body, although Vera had more sense than to touch it. Igor entered the room, still pale. "I took her back to her room, miss. One of the train staff is looking after her. Can you help him, miss? Are you a nurse?" "A governess, I'm afraid. Not really equipped to deal with injuries other than bruises and scratches. However, he is still warm, and that wound looks painful. I would guess that he was killed at some point during that noisy piece of track, which would have muffled his screams." Igor nodded. "That would make sense. I left the corridor for most of the last hour to talk to my colleague, so anyone could have come in here. When I leave, the pass key is on my desk... oh god, this is my fault!" "Of course it's not your fault," Vera said briskly. "Can you give me a list of all the passengers in this corridor?" "Of course, miss. Other than you and Mr Harvey here, there is the English lady Mrs Der Layman, and the General Culling." "I'm going to need to talk to both of them." "Yes, miss." Mrs Der Layman did not appreciate being interrupted. "Are you suggesting I had something to do with his death? I was in here all the time during that piece of rough track, resting - well. Trying to rest, anyway. It was near enough impossible to do anything!" Vera nodded. "I know. I'm just trying to work out where everyone was. You didn't leave the compartment, then?" "Not at all. I didn't hear a scream or anything else either, not that I would have done over that noise. Now, if you'll excuse me. I've had a terrible shock and need to rest." If possible, General Culling was even less co-operative. "What are you suggesting? For god's sake, I didn't hear a thing! Get out of here." "What were you doing when he was killed?" asked Vera. "I don't know. Listening to the radio, I think. There was a rather good programme on after lunch." "To the radio? On that noisy stretch?" "Huh? Oh no, after the programme it got a bit noisy. I had to turn it off. Stayed in here the rest of the time, didn't see or hear anything. Now move it." Vera sighed, and left him to himself. Who killed Mr Harvey?
Driving Death The paramedics, having cut away a large section of the wrecked car door, pulled the distraught girl out of the driver's seat. Despite a two-inch long cut on her forehead that was bleeding freely, she was otherwise uninjured. "Lydia," she sobbed, as they prepared to stitch her cut, "Let me see Lydia!" A paramedic with a short grey beard touched her shoulder gently. "I'm sorry, Kara," he said, "Lydia's dead." "No!" She shoved him away violently. "No, no, no, she can't be, she can't be!" Another paramedic brought an oxygen canister forward and placed the mask over Kara's mouth and nose. After a few deep breaths, she began to calm down. "My name is Max," said the grey-haired paramedic. "We've called the police and they're on their way. But we need to ask you, how much can you remember about before the crash?" Kara took another deep gulp of air and removed the mask. "We were driving back from the auditions," she recalled. "We rounded the corner and the sun was low in the sky so it dazzled me." She gestured back towards the town, and Max squinted against the sharp orange rays of the setting sun, silhouetting the city skyscrapers against the sky. "I squinted and couldn't control the car properly. I felt a bang, and suddenly we were off the road. Then - I don't remember anything, until you started cutting me from the car." Max nodded reassuringly. "Was that your car?" he asked her, looking at the smoking wreck. Kara shook her head. "Mine and Lydia's shared. We took it in turns - she drove us in, and I drove back. We were so happy - we'd each got a part in this pantomime, she was the lead and I was her understudy. We have ourselves a flat in the next village along. Best friends, ever since primary school..." she trailed off, another tear snaking down her face. Max patted her hand, comforting yet somehow unconvincing, and rose to talk to the police who had just arrived on the scene. "I think you need to question Kara further," he said slowly to one of the men in uniform. "Something tells me this wasn't an accident." How did he know?
The Assassin Professor Whyte sat back in his leather armchair and poured himself a glass of wine. He swirled it gently around the glass, absorbing its fine fragrance, before taking his first sip. Perfect. He opened his eyes and sighed at the state of the room. Stacks of papers filled his office, leaving only a small track of clear floor space to which led from the door to his desk, and the metal safe at the back of the room was almost obscured. He really would have to do something about it soon. Maybe tomorrow. Or next week. He closed his eyes and enjoyed another sip of his wine. An almost inaudible squeak made them snap open again in confusion. He glanced at his watch - a quarter past one in the morning. Probably someone returning from a late night, he thought to himself, shutting his eyes again. Nothing unusual. It wasn't until he felt a cold draft from the opened window that he decided to investigate. Rising, his eyebrows creasing into a single line over his forehead, he pulled the black figure from his window-frame into his room. Calmly, he shut the door, and pulled off the man's balaclava. "Well, young sir, to what do I owe this pleasure?" The man straightened up, a terrible scowl on his features, and raised a gun to waist height. "I've come to kill you, Whyte," he growled. "Of course. Whereabouts would you like me?" replied the elderly professor. "Eh?" "To make your alibi look strong. So the police aren't going to catch you." The face relapsed back into a scowl. "The police'll never catch me!" "Excellent." Whyte eased himself back into his chair. "Then we have something to celebrate." The assassin looked confused. "Huh? I'm going to kill you!" "Oh, I know," replied Whyte. "Have a drink with me?" "Come again?" "A drink. With me." Whyte poured out another glass of the excellent claret. "I highly recommend it." "Oh." The assassin peeled off his thick black gloves and took the slender stem of the wine glass, draining it in one. Whyte smiled to himself, knowing now that the assassin would not kill him. How come?
PUZZLES ----------------------- Dating Tanya wants to go on a date and prefers her date to be tall, dark and handsome. Of the preferred traits - tall, dark and handsome - no two of Adam, Bond, Cruz and Dumbo have the same number. Only Adam or Dumbo is tall and fair. Only Bond or Cruz is short and handsome. Adam and Cruz are either both tall or both short. Bond and Dumbo are either both dark or both fair. Who is Tanya's date? -------------------------- The Party Yesterday in a party, I asked Mr. Shah his birthday. With a mischievous glint in his eyes he replied. "The day before yesterday I was 83 years old and next year I will be 86." Can you figure out what is the Date of Birth of Mr. Shah? Assume that the current year is 2000. ------------------------------- Females A is the father of two children - B and D who are of different sexes. C is B's spouse. E is the same sex as D. B and C have the two children - F who is the same sex as B and G who is the same sex as C. E's mother, H who is married to L, is the sister of D's mother, M. E and E's spouse, I have two children - J and K who are the same sex as I. Note that no persons have married more than once. Also, there are more number of females than males. Can you tell how many females are there? ------------------------------- Four Men Four men - Abraham, Bobby, Clinton and Denial - are standing in a straight line. One man is fair, handsome and unscarred. Two men who are not fair, are each standing next to Abraham. Bobby is the only man standing next to exactly one handsome man. Clinton is the only man not standing next to exactly one scarred man. Who is fair, handsome and unscarred? -------------------------------------- The Secret Agent The secret agent X emailed a code word to his head office. They are "AIM DUE OAT TIE MOD". But four of these five words are fake and only one contains the information. The agent X also mailed a sentence as a clue - if I tell you any one character of the code word, you would be able to tell the number of vowels in the code word. Can you tell which is the code word? --------------------------------- Mathematicians There are 4 mathematicians - Brahma, Sachin, Prashant and Nakul - having lunch in a hotel. Suddenly, Brahma thinks of 2 integer numbers greater than 1 and says, "The sum of the numbers is..." and he whispers the sum to Sachin. Then he says, "The product of the numbers is..." and he whispers the product to Prashant. After that following conversation takes place : Sachin : Prashant, I don't think that we know the numbers. Prashant : Aha!, now I know the numbers. Sachin : Oh, now I also know the numbers. Nakul : Now, I also know the numbers. What are the numbers? ---------------------------------------
Mathematicians There are 4 Sprint call center operators waiting to help you with you bill - Brahma, Sachin, Prashant and Nakul - having lunch in India. Suddenly, Bob opens up his Sprint phone bill and thinks of 2 integer numbers greater than 1 and says, "Something is wrong with this invoice. Bob is put on hold waiting for Sachin. Sachin (answers the phone)....listens patiently and puts Bob on hold and says "let me get my supervisor". Brahma (the supervisor) explains to Bob "The invoice amount of the numbers is..." and he whispers the amount to Prashant. After that following conversation takes place : Sachin : Prashant and I don't think that we know the numbers, Bob". Prashant : Aha!, now I know the numbers. Sachin : Oh, now I also know the numbers. Nakul : Now, I also know the numbers. Bob..."What are the numbers?" Stay tuned.....next month when Bob's gets a credit.