Free A Friendly Game of Murder by J. J. Murphy Page B

of that tub this instant, I said!”
    Instinctively Doyle and Case grabbed Bibi’s arms. Benchley reluctantly reached in the tub and held one of her ankles. He shivered at the strange feeling of it. Woollcott, unhurried, took off his tuxedo jacket, rolled up his white sleeves and carefully reached into the tub for the other ankle. By some unspoken understanding, they simultaneously hoisted the body out of the tub, and the champagne cascaded from it. The sweet, crisp smell filled Dorothy’s nose, and she winced. Then she watched as a small circle of liquid pooled around Bibi’s navel and then drained away as they moved the body. Dorothy moved quickly to cover Bibi with a bath towel—it somehow seemed necessary to lend this undignified girl some dignity, as though the propriety she lacked in life could be bestowed on her in death. The only things left in the tub were the ladle and a washcloth.
    They maneuvered Bibi’s body through the doorway and carried her to the bedroom, where they laid her carefully on the bed. Dorothy couldn’t help but rearrange the towel to neatly cover the girl’s body.
    Dr. Hurst followed them into the room. He staggered toward the bed and dropped his leather doctor’s bag onto the floor. Dorothy was compelled to move out of the way. Dr. Hurst held one of Bibi’s wrists for a moment while he felt for a pulse. He let go of the arm and then applied two fingers to her neck.
    He stood and turned to them. “She’s dead.”
    “Of course she’s dead!” Dorothy said impatiently. “The question is, what killed her?”
    Dr. Hurst’s mouth tightened. “I can’t say.”
    Frank Case said, “Some sort of accident, undoubtedly.”
    “An unusual sort of accident,” Woollcott said.
    “People slip and hurt themselves in the bathroom all the time, unfortunately,” Case said. “Most dangerous room in the house.”
    Doyle cleared his throat and carefully looked at Bibi’s face. “What’s that strange redness around her mouth?” He moved forward for a closer look, then turned quizzically to Dr. Hurst. But Dr. Hurst didn’t answer. He even took a step back to allow Doyle more room to examine the body.
    “Perhaps she drowned?” Benchley offered. “We’ve all heard the old wives’ tale of people drowning in three inches of water.”
    “No,” Doyle said, carefully turning Bibi’s head. “Her hair is completely dry.”
    “Maybe alcohol poisoning?” Case asked. “People can go blind or even die from bad moonshine.”
    “We drank a couple,” Benchley said, indicating himself and Dorothy. “We weren’t poisoned. Fairbanks wouldn’t throw a party with rotgut booze.”
    Woollcott stuck out his tongue. “You drank champagne that a woman was bathing in? I’d expect that from the thirsty rabble, but from you two—?”
    “The alcohol kills the germs, doesn’t it?” Benchley said gamely. “Besides, nothing else was available.”
    “It wasn’t so bad,” Dorothy said regretfully, pointing to Bibi and unable to stop herself from joking when things looked so gloomy. “Unmistakable flavor of tart.”
    Case frowned at her and addressed Doyle. “If not alcohol poisoning, then perhaps an alcohol overdose? Could she have absorbed it somehow?”
    “Through her skin, do you mean?” Doyle said. “Not likely. I’d wager the skin absorbs only trace amounts of alcohol. However, inhalation is another matter.”
    “Drunk by inhalation?” Dorothy muttered dismally. “Now that’s a gas.”
    Doyle nodded. “During the war, the armies of the world experimented with all manner of poisonous gases for debilitating and destroying their enemies on the battlefield. I studied it extensively for the British government. Vapors inhaled through the lungs absorb into the bloodstream much more quickly than through the skin.”
    “Enough to kill her?” Case asked.
    Doyle considered this. “In the same manner in which a drunkard will become poisoned by excessive drink, she’d become progressively