The Curious Case of the Broken Window

by Bryan Porter

protect them before the event, but once a crime is committed we must give them up to the law.”

  My words seemed to rally the Count, and with an effort his back straightened and his face became stoic.

  “Then it seems I have no option.”

  For a short time I must exclude myself from the events that followed as I forced by duties to attend another matter, what I repeat are the events that transpired in my absence.

  So it was that I was not there to stand by my friend, the count of Samerand when inspector McMurdy placed the iron cuffs once more. Mrs. Cartwright wept openly and touched his hand, telling him that she would do everything in her power to help him, the good Baronet at her side.

  “Inspector McMurdy. Surely with these upon my wrists you could give me and Mrs. Cartwright a chance to speak privately.”

  The inspector seeming placed in good humour with his arrested accented, allowing my friend fifteen minutes in the study.

  Now I must take a step back from my person, and as best I can relate the events that transpired as they were to me later by the Count.

  Having been left on their own, the Count took her hand, squeezing it tenderly before leading her to the duvet, and having her sit in it while he placed himself in the large sitting chair across from her.

  “I am sorry this happened to you.” Mrs. Cartwright said.

  My friend smiled sadly folding his hands on his lap. “You were always the most fetching creature.”

  “And you are still a flatterer.”

  “Tell me, Louise. What happened to you that would make you do this?”

  The question took Louise Cartwright off guard, and she faltered for a minute. “What do you mean?”

  “How could you involve yourself in the death of your own husband?”

  She flushed and stuttered. “Surely, you don't...” but when she saw the look in her eyes, her demeanour changed. Her back straightened, her eyes cold, and voice lower several degrees.

  “I was involved because I had no other choice.”

  “Your husband learned about the affair?” Said the Count.

  Mrs. Cartwright's eyebrows moved up a fraction at the question. “Yes, he caught me with Richard tonight, and flew into a rage. He said he would expose our shame to all of London. I would have lost everything, and Richard's marriage would have been ended. The poor dear, I knew he couldn't afford to lose his betrothed. He is, in truth, lacking in the means to support his lifestyle. His marriage was to secure are a large dowry that would alleviate any debts he had acquired.” 

  “That was when the two of you followed him into his study, and Mr. Burton shot your husband.” 

  “My dear Count. Even after all these years you don't miss much. Yes, Richard shot him, but my dear husband was able to get a hold of the pistol before he fired, while tearing Richard's glasses off with the other. If he fought a little harder he might have survived, but as they struggled the pistol went off.”

  “And in his death throe's, he crushed the spectacles, embedding the glass so you couldn't remove them.”

  “Yes.”

  “So you smashed the window, and removed the wire rims so as to let Scotland Yard believe that the glass was from the window.”

  “It had the bonus of making them believe that the killer was outside the room.” She said with a wicked smile. “Then all that was left was to send you a message. Knowing you as I do, I realized that the inspector would peg you for the suspect.”

  “And you counted on my sympathies to misdirect my investigation.

  “It did work out that way.” She said brushing her dress over her thighs to press out the wrinkles. “Now you will be executed for the death of my husband, and I will live as the rich distraught widow.”

  “Ah, well. There is one flaw in all that.”

  “And that is?” Mrs. Cartwright said with smug self assurance.

  “That you have just told the entire truth to my good friend inspector James Wright.”

  I came out of where I had been hiding behind the drapery, to the increasing pallor of Mrs. Cartwright. Going to the door I opened it for inspector McMurdy and Constable Morris. Richard Burton was lead by the constable with irons cuffed around his wrist.

  “H...How?”

  “My dear, you don't pay very close attention to the time do you.” Said the Count holding up his watch. “I still have two minutes left. I assume inspector that this clears my name?” 

  “It certainly does.” Said McMurdy, approaching Mrs. Cartwright like a viper, and soon she too was in irons.

  The last time I saw Mrs. Cartwright her posture had become was meek, and her beauty distorted by terror of what must have known was to come.

  It was sometime later that we found ourselves in the Tomas & Harding Gentleman's club, having been rejoined by inspector McMurdy.

  “I must ask apologizes Count, and add that I have never in all my years neither seen nor heard of anyone such as yourself.”

  “You do me honour.” Said my friend.

  “There is one thing more, I would like to know. How did you come to the truth?”

  “Surely, with the conclusion you can surmise how I reached it.”

  “Surely, I cannot. It is still as muddled to me as ever.”

  “Really? Then I will do my best to help you. If you had perceived it, the study gave us all our facts that we needed. The first I saw was the fire place, and a burnt scrap of a letter.”

  “What could you make from a burnt scrap?”

  “Not much I admit, but from the grade and the remains of the Houston legal firm mark 

  I realized that the paper at one time was a legal one.”

  “I saw no mark.”

  “It was not complete; if you looked closely you would have seen the tips of an eagle, along with a slight greenish tinge in one of the few on mark sections gave it away. So I knew that before his death, Mr. Cartwright was writing a legal document, but if you examined his desk you would have seen that it was neat an orderly. In fact it appeared as if it had not been touched. This told me that someone was in the room to cover it up, so even if the gun man had been outside someone in the house had aided him.”

  “It does seem to come together.” Said McMurdy.

  The next clue as you know was the glass embedded in his left hand.”

  “Yes, you figured out that the glass was in fact from Mr. Burton's spectacles.”

   “Well do be fair, I did not at the time know who they belonged to, but I observed that when you gazed through them, your sight was magnified, leading me to a man with poor eye sight. I compared this with the glass from the window to be certain. After that I noticed a peculiar smell emanating from his right hand.”

  “Gun Powder?” Asked I.

  “Yes, but also the hint of lavender.”

  “Lavender? How the devil did that get there?” Chimed in McMurdy. 

  “As you became aware, I have known Mrs. Cartwright for many years. I have observed that she had the habit of spraying all of her personal items with lavender. Something like an artist’s flourish.” The Count did not go further into detail of how he knew she marked all of her personal belongings.

  “With this, I realized that Mrs. Cartwright was involved, and thus she must have removed any signs of gun powder. I further went on to prove that the murder had been in the room.”

  “How so. Count? The next thing you did was get us to stand up the body.” Said McMurdy.

  “Exactly. If you will remember I had you stand up the body, and from that I measured, using strings, the angle at which the bullet it travelled. From this I knew that if the shot had come from outside, it would of come through the siding, and not the window. Since there was no hole in the wall, the killer most of been in the room with the victim.”

  “But, how did you know that Mr. Burton was the killer?”

  “It was quite simple. If you had observed Mr. Burton's nose you would have seen two small impressions on either side. These are common to those who wear glasses for several
years, and yet he wore no glasses. There was a chance that I was wrong, but with the way that Mrs. Cartwright glanced at him as he spoke, the closeness at which they stood, and his upcoming marriage I was certain I was right.”

  “And if you had told me before, I would have put it down to conjecture.” Said McMurdy sombrely.

  “Quite so. I knew you would not hear me out so I needed further proof. A full confession would.”

  “And now we have to murders sitting in Scotland Yard awaiting their punishment.”

  “Yes.” It was to my eye that I saw the thin mask that my friend wore, and I knew beneath the relaxed expression was the most bitter pain.”

  “Count.” I said though what I hoped to say I knew not.

  My friend waved it away. “It's alright, Wright.” He said before standing up.

  “Leaving?” Asked McMurdy his heavy jowls moving as he spoke.

  “Yes, it was time that I was off.” Said the Count, and with a half-hearted goodbye he was off into the dark London night.

  As I seek to give all the facts that are involved in any of the adventures I have had with the count of Samerand I feel it necessary to relate the fates of Mrs. Cartwright, and Baronet Burton. With the expert testimony of myself, Inspector McMurdy, and the good count Robert Burton was convicted of murder, while Mrs. Cartwright was found guilty of adultery, and being complicit in her husband’s murder. In another time perhaps she would have lived out her days, but on August 8, only two weeks after the events, Lord Burton and Mrs. Cartwright were executed for the murder of Mr Henry Cartwright.