Enceladus

Maybe it was Hargen Mosch. Perhaps it was Murgle Flooshc. Or even Gentler Frain.

But it was certainly not Walderon Packle, for he had been on Ganymede-- Jupiter's big-ass moon-- some four hundred million miles away from Saturnalian Enceladus!

In case future readers are not familiar with the crime I allude to, I will clarify. Though in my mind there is no need, for surely all will remember the great murder of the poison pool, as it has already been dubbed the most heinous crime of the 22nd century in these farflung parts of our solar system.

True, the inhabitants of the Saturnalian and Jupiterian moons are few and far between, so crimes are seldom. Perhaps that is why this crime has garnered such sensationalist coverage even as far as the more populated Martian colonies, because no one ever dreamed that one of the elite voyageurs to those distant realms could ever go mad enough to perform a murder.

But it happened. The body of Arbi Esser was found in the sole manmade pool on Enceladus-- at the Fourteen Thousand Rings to Rule Them All Resort-- with breathtaking vistas of both the roaring geysers of that moon and of Saturn's ethereal rings. And her body was thumping a primordial thump, reverberating with a hard pounding of the chest while she lay quickly-molding and purple, when the hotel's staff of androids recovered her body. Worms and devilish bacteria began to force their way out of her bones, and by then all was lost. Esser was dead, victim to a horrendous deep-space nightmare and agonizing end.

I was called in to investigate, as I was residing on the nearby moon of Sashanalia (once and still sometimes called Titan) and had made a name for myself after solving the mystery of the disappearing salt mines on Phobos in 2109. The robotic staff was friendly enough and after viewing the security footage, I could safely rule them out. For the night before, a humanoid figure was caught on the cameras, entering into the pool room and putting a long finger down into the water... this must have been the contamination which would claim the life of Esser.

I studied that year's flight records and customs reports, which didn't take long, for only four men besides myself had crossed the Asteroid Belt that year: Hargen Mosch, Murgle Flooshc, Gentler Frain and Walderon Packle.

"Watch out for that Packle," the shivering robots said to me. "He's been around here when the geysers shoot their zenith, and he always has his way with us."

"I concur, Packle's a jerk and wank, but we can't convict him on that. We have him on Ganymede for the last stellar month. That leaves Hargen, Murgle and Gentler. They've all been busy setting up the Tetris Base on Tethys."

"It's not unthinkable that one of them could've soared past the lunar scans without being detected," noted Andro the Android.

"Yes, I think it'd be best to summon them all here so I might make a proper interrogation of them."

"Even Gentler?" asked Andro the Android. "You've been friends with that boy for many long years of summer."

"Even Gentler. What kind of detective would I be if I dismissed a suspect from suspicion on account of friendship? The stars are no place for such earthly sentiment."

And so Hargen, Murgle and Gentler were summoned to the resort on Enceladus, and made to look upon Esser's rotting body, now in a sterile glass coffin, mangled and deformed, dissolving as we spoke.

"Gentlemen, I will make this short," said I. "Hargen and Murgle, you have never laid eyes on this woman."

"True," said Murgle.

"Therefore you'd have no reason to wrong her, especially not in the horrific fashion in which it's been done. Gentler, on the other hand..."

And here I looked to my friend.

"You know this woman, Gentler."

But Gentler would not speak. I was made to go on:

"Gentler, this is the woman you have adored since you first laid eyes on her. On that day, you and her spoke-- average words to her, but words that changed your life forever. Words that would never leave you, words that would haunt you and keep you awake at night... words that would make you go on wanting and wanting more from that sweet, sweet mouth. And so you began to write to her... but she would not respond. Still you did not lose hope! You sent payment after payment, futile donation after fruitless fruitless gift. And you continued because at least then she would thank you. But after years of giving and giving... you started to feel like you needed more. More than just thank you. You wanted to feel her touch. Or at least to see her again and share more words in the flesh! But still she would go silent when you asked for that, and that, gentlemen... is a motive."

I took no pleasure in it, but there I was, accusing my old friend of the killing, for the simple truth that he was the only one out of these three who could've possibly held any connection to the murdered girl.

Gentler's defense was short and swift; he stood, and with quiet conviction said the following:

"It is true I had loved Arbi Esser since the moment she spoke to me. And I never ever needed more than what she gave to me on that day: the simple assurance that is such a thing as true beauty in this Universe. True and pure perfection... is what she was. And that's why I continued to serve her all these years. I never wanted anything more than to serve this goddess. And while I understand why my passion for her may give you reason to doubt my innocence, I can say whole-heartedly that I could never have done a thing to harm this woman in all the eternal days of Saturn."

They all laughed at him, and sent him to the Martian penal colony, for obviously he was guilty. After all, the conviction had my stamp of approval! And I was by far the most trustworthy and respected man in the Saturnalian system.

But alas... now I feel something of a guilt. Not enough to confess it to the world, but enough to write it down here... on my deathbed.

Gentler Frain was quite honest in his defense. Gentler Frain did not kill Arbi Esser; he adored her with the strongest and purest adoration in all the galaxy.

I killed her.

For I knew they would give me full reign of the investigation. And then I would accuse my friend, and send him off to a life of labor, to settle our account.

For one day long ago, this Gentler Frain had challenged me to a round of decoding before the Sashian priests of Planet X, as that ancient world made its approach to the Sun after thousands of years in the shadows. He set me up for failure, that Gentler Frain, and asked me where he had eaten after hiding it in the code of Menstrual Socks Slave Bakery.

He had set me up for failure. The encoded restaurant was Main Street Sports Bar, a place I knew well and following the acronym MSSB should have been able to guess. But all day long he had filled my mind with talk of bakeries, and so I fixated on bakeries. I was unable to guess that Menstrual Socks Slave Bakery was actually code for Main Street Sports Bar.

And so I was laughed off the elevated stage, with Sashians watching from above, below, on all sides and in all dimensions... those otherworldly gods found me to be the stupidest Earthling they had ever witnessed.

Thus I vowed vengeance on Gentler. And vengeance have I tasted... and as I lay here dying, I laugh to myself most heartily.

For no one ever suspects the detective.