Murder at Midnight by C. S. Challinor Page B

thing.” Zoe pointed at the dart in Rex’s palm, as her mother put a consoling arm around her.
    “Wouldn’t the dart need a bow or something?” Flora asked. “Or are those only for arrows?”
    “Perhaps we should do just that,” Rex agreed with Zoe. “And that’s a very good point, Flora. There may well be another part to this missile. Humphrey, what was used to launch these darts in the tropics?”
    “Blowpipes. They’re still in use by the indigenous peoples of South East Asia and South and Central America. They literally blow these darts through pipes. The longer the pipe, the greater the force and subsequent distance.”
    “Are they accurate?” Rex asked.
    “I expect so, since their survival can depend on them. And they’re virtually soundless. Have you ever come upon these darts on your travels?” Cleverly asked his female companion.
    Everyone listened attentively for the answer, trying not to look too obvious.
    “I have not,” Margarita stated.
    “What are the pipes made of ?” Rex inquired of the professor.
    “Bamboo, I believe.”
    “But you could use any material, right?” Jason queried. “A metal tube, or hollowed-out anything.”
    “I remember a murder mystery film where a clay pipe was featured,” Helen said. “At least, I think it was clay. It wasn’t very long. About five inches or so, and it had colourful designs on it.”
    “That seems a bit short,” the professor contended. “The blowpipes used in Borneo are about two metres, longer than the shooter.”
    “In primary school we used straws to blow spit wads at our teachers,” Jason said. “Same principle as peashooters.”
    “I bet you were the worst offender,” Flora remarked.
    “What do you mean? I was the best!”
    “I don’t think we have any straws here,” Rex said.
    “Wouldn’t it depend on the distance required for the target?” John asked no one in particular. “Blowpipes are used to shoot tranquillizer darts into dangerous animals from a safe distance. I saw that on a television documentary.”
    “Where on the floor did you find this?” Rex asked Vanessa.
    “By Catriona’s chair when you and John were examining her. I had dropped my cracker and stooped to pick it up, thinking the cream cheese might make a mess on your rug. The olive had rolled under the chair behind the claw foot. That’s where I found that—that thing! I cleaned up the cheese with my paper napkin,” she hastened to add, although Rex barely heard her apology, so engrossed was he in the find, inspecting it from every angle. It was a highly curious object, the like of which he had never seen.
    “Well done, Vanessa,” he said. “We might never have found it so soon otherwise. It’s too dark.”
    “What now?” Alistair inquired. “If we don’t believe Vanessa shot the dart …”
    “Oh course I didn’t!” she remonstrated. “I didn’t even know what it was.”
    “It may have fallen after it pierced Catriona’s thumb,” John said. “Perhaps it got kicked under the chair, accidentally or otherwise. It was pitch black in the middle of the room when she collapsed, remember. Perhaps the person who shot her couldn’t find the object. I don’t see how it could have been shot into her, though. For one thing, the plaster over the point of entry is intact.”
    “It must have been removed and replaced,” Alistair said. “The dart might not have been shot at all, just stabbed into her at close range.”
    Vanessa let out a small scream and Margarita kissed the silver cross at her throat. Rex apologized for upsetting them and decided to pursue the investigation more privately. The last thing he needed was hysteria. In any case, no one seemed able or willing to shed further light on the blow-dart or the circumstances under which it might have been used. Perhaps he might be lucky enough to find the dart that killed Ken Fraser as well, if, in fact, there were two.
    To that end, he undertook a careful search of the hall and broom