He arrived at the dining car shortly after Imogen did, looking sombre and grave. His collar was rumpled, his tie lopsided and loose. The jarring scream had awoken him from his rather pleasant sleep, and he had hastily dressed in the dark. The reason for his dishabille was going to be apparent, soon enough. When it was revealed that Pixilicious had been a sociopath, and the most likely reason for the death of Ladysky, he merely nodded to himself, having suspected her as the culprit, despite voting for Valerian.
He took a deep breath, glancing at the lady next to him. For a moment, he considered lying, pinning the blame on Imogen, so she would be safely disembarked. He would miss her company sorely, but better to have her alive than risk the chance she could be the next victim.
But however chivalrous the motive, it would not be an honest one. Sighing, he cleared his throat and addressed the assembled company.
"Friends, Imogen had nothing to do with Pixilicious' death. And neither did I. I know this because..." --and here he blushed, and glanced askew-- "because we shared a suite last night. We were together the whole time. There was no way one of us could have left without the other knowing."
He slipped his hand into Imogen's glove, giving her fingers a squeeze. "That only leaves Beguile's Mistress and Esoteric Myobi as the culprit. I do not know which of them is the guilty party, but it had to have been one of those two. I'm going to say Beguile's Mistress, and pray to God that I am correct."