WHODIDIT?
A CHESS MURDER MYSTERY
It was a gruesome scene when I entered the private quarters
of Mitch Rich, the aptly named wealthiest man in Britain and lately the world’s
leading chess sponsor. He was dead in his bed, with his head full of lead. He
wouldn’t be sponsoring anything again, that was for sure, but it would look
very bad for world chess if they couldn’t bring his killer to book. Which is
where I came in - Inspector Hector, FIDE’s
top cop, though you probably know me better as a Swedish GM.
A couple of IMs had been shot at two other Mitch Rich sponsored
tournaments earlier in the year, but we hadn’t made much progress on those. And
to be honest, no-one had seemed too fussed by that. Now, though, the stakes had
really been raised, especially as the murder had been committed during a major
tournament, which was being hosted by Rich on Hyland Island, his private luxury
retreat off the coast of Cornwall. Many top players were there, together with a
few officials and support crew, as well as a handful of spectators from
Kenilworth Chess Club. The island was only accessible by helicopter, which
meant that the killer was, beyond doubt, still on the scene. Not quite a locked
room mystery, but certainly a locked island one.
As soon as I knew the murder weapon was a gun, I thought of
John Nunn, but he was away somewhere having fun in the sun. And that guy from
Bristol owned a pistol, but as it was made of crystal, it wasn’t the murder
weapon I was looking for. But although none of the assembled chess players had
a record of gun ownership or gun crime, there had been enough previous
incidents to arouse my suspicions. Chris Ward once brought a sword to the board
when his opponent accused him of fraud, while Markus Ragger owned a dagger and
Glenn Flear a spear. And Nihal Sarin shared a name with a nerve gas, which was
well dodgy.
It was time to interview a few people, and I first made a
beeline for the Chinese and Vietnamese contingents. Ding didn’t know a thing,
while Bu, Hou, Ju, Lu, Zhu, Xu and Yu didn’t have a clue. Wei and Le said
they’d been out all day. No progress there.
I had no better luck with the Americans. Wesley So said he wanted
to go before it started to snow. His finances were low and he needed some
dough, though that’s true of most chess players. And with no money or
possessions missing, robbery didn’t seem to have been a motive, anyway. Jeffery Xiong and Andrew Hong said I’d got it
all wrong – it couldn’t have been Sam Shankland, as he was still at home in
Yankland.
My suspicions turned to the Indian group. There was
something fishy about Vishy while Ganguly was very unruly. Pragg still had jet
lag and was as limp as a wet rag, which was a real drag. Humpy was jumpy and
Gupta looked upta no good. Adhiban had a plan (as did Sethuraman and Sasikiran)
but even though I wasn’t their biggest fan, I couldn’t throw them in the can just
for that. But I could certainly keep my
eye on them.
The Kenilworth contingent of tourists were a strange bunch,
too. And distinctly out of place amongst such strong chess players. Maybe
jealousy could have spurred one of them into action? They’d certainly shown
some weird behaviour in the few days they’d been at the tournament. First, Mark
Page, in a rage, had stormed the stage and been locked in a cage until he began
acting his age. Then Joshua Pink had caused a stink by throwing ink over
someone’s mink, after having too much to drink. And most suspicious of all, Phil
Wood was wearing a hood, that was covered in blood and looked up to no good,
though he claimed he’d just slipped on some mud while out walking with Jack
Rudd. But the bullet in his pocket turned out to be a dud. You didn’t have to
be a soothsayer to know that Bruce Baer was bit of a player – currently drinking
wine with the lady mayor - but I couldn’t see him as a slayer.
And everywhere I turned, there were more strange or
aggressive characters ready to confront me. In the dining room, Anish Giri was chatting
with Siri while eating gambas piri piri while Jan-Krzysztof Duda, eating some
Gouda, couldn’t have been any ruder, but said he hadn’t committed the muder. MVL
gave me hell but had nothing of interest to tell (apart from advising me to
sell shares in Dell), and then Shak went on the attack, said I was on the wrong
track and before I could answer back he gave me a smack. This job comes with a
lot of flak. Nick Pert was pretty curt and acted all hurt when he splashed yoghurt
on his shirt.
I interrupted Emmanuel Berg, who was eating curried murgh and he went
on the offensive for his compatriot Grandelius. “Nils feels you’ve had him
kicking his heels making him miss his meals. And a Swede never squeals, so go
spin your wheels.” Though he wasn’t the only one going hungry, as I then mistook
Grischuk for the cook and ordered the duck, but was bang out of luck.
I sat in the bar for a night cap to review what I’d learned
so far. But my thoughts were disturbed when, after drinking too much port that
someone else had bought, Vlastimil Hort started haranguing Nigel Short for
being a bad sport. These chess players are a touchy bunch. And I should know, I’m
one of them too, don’t forget.
Thankfully there were at least a few names I could cross off
the suspects’ list. Ivan Saric and Alisa Maric were both stranded in Harwich,
due to a derailed carriage. Luke McShane and Malcolm Pein had nothing to gain.
And while Gawain Maroroa Jones had taken out big loans to buy some drones and
phones, I knew in my bones he’d been watching “Game of Thrones” on his owns, at
the time of the crime.
I didn’t sleep easy that night, but in the morning I got my
first break. Forensics came back with lots of good info. The murder weapon had
been used before – on the 2 IMs we’d already lost. We’d tracked it’s history and found it had been sold
by auction on the dark web to someone with the username isawt94. I got my first
light-bulb moment on the case. It was time for some action.
I ordered a search of the Indian players’ rooms and we
struck gold. The gun was found in a bag belonging to Pragg and I saw him
visibly sag. “Is this a gag? I’ve never seen it before in my life.” And though
I ordered him to be locked in his room, this was just to buy myself a bit more
thinking time as I knew he was telling the truth. The gun had clearly been
planted there. Probably in a hurry and to be retrieved later.
Because I’d now worked out exactly who did it. The truth
would rock the chess world – a 2700+ super-GM was guilty. (That’s all the English
players, women and KCC tourists in the clear, then!) And I would name him just as soon
as I had got all the players, officials and spectators assembled in the
tournament hall. They say “If you can’t do the time, don’t do the crime”, but when
Inspector Hector is on the case it’s more like “If you can’t make it rhyme, you
won’t solve the crime.”
Have you worked it out yet? Do you need any more clues? I’ll
just say that the murderer may not even have been mentioned yet, but he’ll
certainly be found on the current rating list at over 2700. (Which you can
peruse here.) Which means you've currently (December 24th, 2025) only got 34 people to choose from.
So, thinking caps on and I’ll see you back here in a few
days when all will be revealed.
DISCLAIMER
Any resemblance between characters mentioned in this story and real life chess
players of the same name is purely a product of my invention and your imagination.
I have no doubt they’re all splendid, polite and law-abiding guys and gals in
the real world!
No comments:
Post a Comment