Tricky Case

“Her brother killed her.” Said detective Malcolm with all certainty, obtaining an astounded look from his partner. “There’s no doubt about it.” His assured words only served to increase the confusion on the young man’s face.

“How can you be so sure? We just arrived at the crime scene no more than five minutes ago.”

“I just know it Michael, I just know it.” Shrugging his shoulders at the skepticism of his companion, the older detective took out a cigarette from his pocket. "Everything points to it." Lifting his hand, the man extended the cigarette to the young man, who proceeded to light it up with his own lighter in a perfectly practiced way. In a relaxed manner, Malcolm took a puff of his cigarette while inspecting the body.

There was only the two of them in the crime scene because they were the ones who were the closest when it all happened. It would take at least fifteen minutes for the other personnel to be dispatched. “Still, I don’t understand how can you arrive at that conclusion so quickly.” The young man Michael inspected his surroundings, searching for any detail in the little apartment that could explain who the killer was, only to be greeted by the sight of the living room filled with furniture of colorful designs. After determining that there was nothing out of the ordinary with the room, He looked more attentively at the body, but still couldn’t find any clue.

The detective let out an annoyed sigh as he walked to a nearby couch and then sat down, his left hand running up and down its floral tapestry. “You know, after months of working with me, one would think that you actually learned something.” The young man groaned a little at that, but detective Malcolm paid him no mind. “Clearly, you haven’t been paying attention.”

Massaging his temples, Michael tried to ignore the constant reprimands of his older partner. “Could you please explain how do you know who the murderer is?”

The detective stopped smoking for a moment, putting down the cigarette, and placing it on top of the wooden table in front of him. His eyes, bordering between annoyance and humor, stared at the young man as He frowned. “The victim” said He, signaling to the corpse of a middle-aged blonde woman on the corner. A number of knife wounds on her chest, staining her white blouse with blood. “Is a woman called Cindy Parker. She lived alone in this apartment. No lover, nor close friends, or at least not in this city. Only her older brother who lives a few blocks away.”

Listening to the explanation, the young man gasped. “But we just arrived. How do you know all that?”

Detective Malcolm sneered. “The door showed no signs of being forced open, nor did any of the windows.” He continued his speech, disregarding the face of his younger partner, who was turning paler by the moment. “What makes me think that the murderer was someone close to the victim, or at least someone who had access to a copy of the door’s key.”

The gaze of the detective became gloomier. His finger tapping on the wooden table again and again as he looked at the young man. Beads of cold sweat started to run down the forehead of the young man and the nervousness was apparent on his face. “The owner of this building lost the copies of every apartment’s key last week, which means that the only copy left is that in possession of her older brother.” The cigarette was still burning on top of the wooden table, but both men were too busy staring at each other to notice it.

“What if the victim just forgot to close the door when the murdered acted? I think we should investigate more...” Said Michael in a low voice that was perfectly heard in the narrow space of the living room. The sound of the finger tapping on the table stopped abruptly and a radiant smile made its way to the face of the old detective. Michael became tense instantly. That smile worthy of a picture was like the grin of the devil in his eyes. That smile that only appears when bad things are about to happen is the main reason why He can’t sleep soundly at night. His legs were trembling without noticing.

Covering his face with both hands, Michael’s voice shuddered as he murmured some sort of prayer. He forced himself to calm down after a brief moment and lowered his hands. “I-I think her brother did it.”

There was a short silence after that. The tense atmosphere seemed to have melted away instantly. Detective Malcolm stood up from the couch laughing. “I think this case is solved, let us wait in the front to explain our findings to the people from the station.” He walked out of the apartment of the deceased woman while his young partner followed him without saying a word.

Stopping for a moment, the old detective turned to face Michael. “Hey, you should come to dinner at my house this weekend, my wife will be making lobster and apple pie. Maybe you should bring your sister too”. The old detective gave him the most radiant of all smiles, but deep inside He only wanted to cry for help.

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