...... so I hope to be somewhat better at that than at solving murder mysteries.
Mes mon aimes,
While be it far from me to infer anything but inscrutable and dare I say, on the surface what might be deduced as purely innocent, yet perhaps naive protestations from our esteemed host; we are still faced with the dilemma of how the marine surveyor was found face down in a bucket of International Interspeed, 2-pack antifoul behind internally locked doors in the upstairs library.
As you are already aware, it was Trim who found the unfortunate painted and tainted friend when he went looking for a study on Celestrial Navigation and the Art of Banana Bread Making on Passage.
The poor fellow is as we speak, still in the care and ministrations of the downstairs cook and the amazing recuperative powers of her chicken broth but nevertheless, a crime has taken place in these hallowed halls. A crime most devious and most foul. A crime that leaves many questions still unanswered.
Jeanne reports a shadowy character loitering amongst the fenders at 2.17pm and yet gslabbet swears he was taking tea and scones with her at 2.15 that same afternoon on the west wing terrace. Either gslabbet has discovered the ultimate in 'quick bites' or he is the stingiest host this side of Uncle Scrooge.
And what of delatbabel? What are we to make of their assertions that the blood stained winch handle was in fact simply a glob of Trim's home-made berry jam, deposited there when the butter knives mysteriously disappeared from the galley cutlery drawer neccessitating their resorting to deck equipment to spread their toast? One wonders at just what contortionistic dance would have resulted had they only been able to find a spinnaker pole. Would they have had to resort to a strawberry topping lift?
This mystery indeed will test us all
(That or I've been land-locked too long and need to get back out on the water