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Prologue – Cruise for a Corpse?
Captain Nuclear Master gave the signal to his first mate GeoModder, who was overseeing the casting-off by their trusty deck hand Zopperoni al Collina, and the decrepit paddle steamer The Apolyton left the docks at Cairo on yet another beautiful morning. The summer of 1925 had been glorious, and the thousands of tourists were spending a fortune, which was excellent news for the ship’s purser gjramsey; his ledgers were packed full and he was looking at a certain promotion off this Allah-forsaken glorified barge. The popularity of Nile cruises was also good news for the barman aboard the Apolyton. Since Muslim law forbids alcohol, they had to employ a Skanky young Australian to cater to the needs of their visitors. The large takings behind the bar meant that the provisions for spillages were very high too, and Skanky had been taking full advantage of this all summer.
The ship was full, and the passenger list made strange reading indeed. There seemed to be some kind of convention who had booked most of the berths, and the attendees were behaving very strangely indeed. As the first mate made his inspection tour of the ship, to ensure that all the safety precautions were in order and that nobody came to any harm during the voyage, he was almost knocked over by a short, portly gentleman muttering to himself and fiddling absent-mindedly with his heavily-waxed moustache. GeoModder apologised to the gentleman and cast his mind back to the passenger list, remembering that this was Hercules Poirot, the eccentric Belgian detective, master of the little grey cells, and organiser of the Detection Convention summer tour. In the cabin next to M. Poirot was the French detective Chief Inspector Guynemer Maigret, who was watching the hordes of desperate salesmen chasing the steamer as it left port, hoping to catch the eye of the gentleman leaning over the rail in a shabby raincoat, and to entice him to buy an impractical carpet or a model of the famous Egyptian monuments which seemed to defy their geographical location. This was, of course, Lieutenant Columbo, whose strange manner reminds one of M. Poirot (Some unkind people have suggested that he is Spaced out most of the time, but he is undeniably effective in his job).
Up early to lay his towel on the sunloungers was Oberinspektor Derrick Jamski, but he was more concerned about finding a spot in which he would get the most sun than Jim rahford, who had set up his deckchair to give him the best view of women sunbathing on other boats. Having taken a break from his usual rate of $200 a day, with expenses, he had decided to attend his first Detection Convention, and hopefully meet some of the lovely Egyptian women he had spotted in the brochures. Hidden in the shade, not mad enough even to go out in the midday sun, were some of the English contingent aboard the Apolyton. Sherljocvetk Holmes and his faithful friend DrSpike looked to be suffering from the heat in their suits and high-necked collars, but they maintained their stiff upper lips, and engaged Miss Kassi Marple in polite conversation. She reciprocated and, after enquiring whether they would not be more wise to change their clothes, continued her embroidery.
Some of the more athletic members of the party were exercising with a game of deck tennis, and had made Zopperoni fetch their wayward shots from the river in his rowing boat. Fortunately the Apolyton travelled far slower than Zop’s boat so he was in no danger of exhausting himself. Nor were the tennis players. Bulldog Drummond Miller and Lord Peter “SnowFire” Wimsey were trailing the American pairing of Sonny GF Crockett and Ricardo Tubs by 6-2 and 4-1, without much hope of coming back. “Typical of British tennis”, chuckled the entirely impartial umpire Inspector ADG Morse, as he applauded an ace and watched Zop row back in the other direction to retrieve the ball. The venerable Chinese sleuth Charlie Chaunk preferred deck quoits, but was happy to watch the tennis anyway.
Below decks in the well-appointed bar, the other passengers were trying to escape the annoying questions of their fellow travellers. Lady HongHu a beautiful heiress from provincial China had been sent to Egypt by her parents to “complete her education” (probably before being married off to some ghastly old landowner), and she was making the most of this opportunity. Unfortunately, she had just escaped the attentions of a rich American rapper Jon Cha, known as Pimp Daddy to his fans, but had then been cornered by the randy old industrialist Theben T Wallingford III, owner of most of Rhode Island and far more besides. The value of this education being that men outside of China have the same urges as those within China. Lucky woman. In the other corner, the Earl of Octavian was delighted to notice the arrival of the Duc de Pavelles, because it might allow him a brief respite from the lunatic ravings of a Russian priest he had been stuck next to for over an hour now. So far, nobody had noticed the secret agent Jonny Hungrigberg as he kept an eye on the dangerous monk. The Liechtenstein government had marked the Russian as a possible threat to security and had sent their top man across to keep a close watch on his activities. He was posing as a waiter in the bar, but the fact that he was terribly seasick and lived in a landlocked country did little to convince anyone. Unconcerned by this shoddy display of seamanship, service and espionage, Skanky cleaned the fingerprint detection dust from the glasses and hoped that detectives would be only too happy to have a drink now that they were off duty.
Captain Nuclear Master gave the signal to his first mate GeoModder, who was overseeing the casting-off by their trusty deck hand Zopperoni al Collina, and the decrepit paddle steamer The Apolyton left the docks at Cairo on yet another beautiful morning. The summer of 1925 had been glorious, and the thousands of tourists were spending a fortune, which was excellent news for the ship’s purser gjramsey; his ledgers were packed full and he was looking at a certain promotion off this Allah-forsaken glorified barge. The popularity of Nile cruises was also good news for the barman aboard the Apolyton. Since Muslim law forbids alcohol, they had to employ a Skanky young Australian to cater to the needs of their visitors. The large takings behind the bar meant that the provisions for spillages were very high too, and Skanky had been taking full advantage of this all summer.
The ship was full, and the passenger list made strange reading indeed. There seemed to be some kind of convention who had booked most of the berths, and the attendees were behaving very strangely indeed. As the first mate made his inspection tour of the ship, to ensure that all the safety precautions were in order and that nobody came to any harm during the voyage, he was almost knocked over by a short, portly gentleman muttering to himself and fiddling absent-mindedly with his heavily-waxed moustache. GeoModder apologised to the gentleman and cast his mind back to the passenger list, remembering that this was Hercules Poirot, the eccentric Belgian detective, master of the little grey cells, and organiser of the Detection Convention summer tour. In the cabin next to M. Poirot was the French detective Chief Inspector Guynemer Maigret, who was watching the hordes of desperate salesmen chasing the steamer as it left port, hoping to catch the eye of the gentleman leaning over the rail in a shabby raincoat, and to entice him to buy an impractical carpet or a model of the famous Egyptian monuments which seemed to defy their geographical location. This was, of course, Lieutenant Columbo, whose strange manner reminds one of M. Poirot (Some unkind people have suggested that he is Spaced out most of the time, but he is undeniably effective in his job).
Up early to lay his towel on the sunloungers was Oberinspektor Derrick Jamski, but he was more concerned about finding a spot in which he would get the most sun than Jim rahford, who had set up his deckchair to give him the best view of women sunbathing on other boats. Having taken a break from his usual rate of $200 a day, with expenses, he had decided to attend his first Detection Convention, and hopefully meet some of the lovely Egyptian women he had spotted in the brochures. Hidden in the shade, not mad enough even to go out in the midday sun, were some of the English contingent aboard the Apolyton. Sherljocvetk Holmes and his faithful friend DrSpike looked to be suffering from the heat in their suits and high-necked collars, but they maintained their stiff upper lips, and engaged Miss Kassi Marple in polite conversation. She reciprocated and, after enquiring whether they would not be more wise to change their clothes, continued her embroidery.
Some of the more athletic members of the party were exercising with a game of deck tennis, and had made Zopperoni fetch their wayward shots from the river in his rowing boat. Fortunately the Apolyton travelled far slower than Zop’s boat so he was in no danger of exhausting himself. Nor were the tennis players. Bulldog Drummond Miller and Lord Peter “SnowFire” Wimsey were trailing the American pairing of Sonny GF Crockett and Ricardo Tubs by 6-2 and 4-1, without much hope of coming back. “Typical of British tennis”, chuckled the entirely impartial umpire Inspector ADG Morse, as he applauded an ace and watched Zop row back in the other direction to retrieve the ball. The venerable Chinese sleuth Charlie Chaunk preferred deck quoits, but was happy to watch the tennis anyway.
Below decks in the well-appointed bar, the other passengers were trying to escape the annoying questions of their fellow travellers. Lady HongHu a beautiful heiress from provincial China had been sent to Egypt by her parents to “complete her education” (probably before being married off to some ghastly old landowner), and she was making the most of this opportunity. Unfortunately, she had just escaped the attentions of a rich American rapper Jon Cha, known as Pimp Daddy to his fans, but had then been cornered by the randy old industrialist Theben T Wallingford III, owner of most of Rhode Island and far more besides. The value of this education being that men outside of China have the same urges as those within China. Lucky woman. In the other corner, the Earl of Octavian was delighted to notice the arrival of the Duc de Pavelles, because it might allow him a brief respite from the lunatic ravings of a Russian priest he had been stuck next to for over an hour now. So far, nobody had noticed the secret agent Jonny Hungrigberg as he kept an eye on the dangerous monk. The Liechtenstein government had marked the Russian as a possible threat to security and had sent their top man across to keep a close watch on his activities. He was posing as a waiter in the bar, but the fact that he was terribly seasick and lived in a landlocked country did little to convince anyone. Unconcerned by this shoddy display of seamanship, service and espionage, Skanky cleaned the fingerprint detection dust from the glasses and hoped that detectives would be only too happy to have a drink now that they were off duty.
I've also taken the question mark off the end of HongHu?'s name. She's playing now! 
This is really cool. Law enforcement now outnumbers Mafia 
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