Who Killed Bob?

by Stephen Craig

  ‘And this is the only key’?

  ‘To the best of my knowledge’.

  ‘Well, thank you for your help Mrs Blackmore. We will leave you to compose yourself and I think myself and the doctor will go and take a look in the study’ he turned to the constable. ‘Peters, can you take Mrs Blackmore to the kitchen to get her a strong, sweet, cup of tea and then return to us’?

  Mrs Blackmore went with Constable Peters. The two men looked at each other and the inspector spoke:

  ‘Well Jacobs. Let’s go and see what the study has to offer us’.

  They left the room and went down the corridor where they met Constable Peters coming back from the kitchen.

  #

  5. The Ice-Pick And The Poison.

  The ice-pick sat quietly upon the smooth red leather of what had been Bob’s writing desk. It was not alone on the desk but it had certainly not been here upon this desk yesterday morning. It was an elegant anvil ice pick with a surprisingly heavy weight. It had been ergonomically designed to fit in the human hand and allowed for the controlled and precise scoring of ice. Its anvil head had a sharp pointed ‘tooth’ and the wooden handle was of a rich mahogany. The pick itself was of an extremely sharp stainless steel making it strong enough for ice shaping. It was also strong enough to skewer the back of a human skull.

  This particular ice pick had at no point skewered the back or front of a human skull but if the object was examined it was very likely that a red stain on the actual pick would be noticed. You could be led to believe that this was what a medical professional would call haemoglobin or what a layperson might consider to be blood.

  Inspector Johnson and Doctor Jacobs stood in the open oak doorway of the study and the most immediate thought that had registered in Doctor Jacobs mind was the smell. He looked quizzically at Inspector Johnson and spoke:

  ‘Almonds’. It was a statement of fact.

  ‘Cyanide’? Inspector Jacobs looked at the doctor, then he turned his attention to the constable. ‘Peters, close the door and make sure we are not disturbed please’.

  ‘Sir’. The constable nodded in acquiescence and left the room shutting the door behind him leaving the two elder men in conference.

  ‘What do you think’?

  The Doctor walked over to the desk and looked quickly at the body in the seat. Then down at the desk and more specifically at all of the items upon the desk. ‘Look at this’, he called Johnson over to the desk and drew his attention to the items in front of them.

  Taking the items in order, the Inspector looked at the ice-pick in front of him. He took out his handkerchief and picked it carefully up by the handle. ‘Exquisite’ he said.

  The Doctor nodded, ‘yes, top quality pick’.

  ‘Quite a weight to it’? He was a little surprised.

  ‘An expensive pick for somebody who liked to drink’.

  ‘Look at the end of the pick. Blood’!

  ‘It could be but it strikes me that it’s a little too bright if you ask my opinion’.

  The doctor put his nose to the end of the pick and sniffed. It was not quite what he had expected. It smelt sweet.

  There was a small perfume bottle on the table next to the knife. The bottle was of black glass with a mosaic pattern built up from 22 carat gold and silver leaf. The stopper was also made of black glass and it had a silver band around the neck. The neck was inscribed quite simply, BB. The bottle itself did not contain perfume and whatever had been in it originally had been replaced. Somebody had kindly put a label on the bottle which read:

  ‘Prussic Acid. Very Dangerous’.

  You might think that this was a bluff and that it very possibly contained a harmless liquid but you would be wrong in that assumption. It actually did contain hydrocyanic acid, otherwise known as hydrogen cyanide or more commonly referred to as cyanide.

  Cyanide is not very pleasant and if Bob had indeed drunk this he most certainly would have been dead. The fact that he was already dead does not necessarily mean that he had ingested any of this inorganic compound but it also does NOT mean that he had NOT done so.

  Doctor Jacobs next gave his attention to the intricately and finely decorated fragrance bottle. He did not pick it up immediately, but took out a fine miniature flashlight from the inside of his jacket pocket and shone the light upon it. He noted that he could not see any obvious finger-prints on the non-porous surface and Inspector Johnson nodded at his method:

  ‘No prints, eh’?

  ‘Nothing obvious’ The Doctor turned, ‘If anybody held this without gloves there would be fingerprints showing upon it’. He looked fixedly at the bottle.

  The Inspector spoke. ‘So, how did it get on the desk’?

  ‘Exactly’! Jacobs turned, ‘either the bottle has been wiped very carefully…’.

  ‘Or somebody wore gloves’! The Inspector interjected. Johnson walked across to Doctor Jacobs by the desk. ‘The label says prussic acid and that fits in with the smell, but the lid is on…’ He took a handkerchief from his pocket and picked up the bottle and pulled the stopper ’…very tightly’ he continued. ’How is the smell getting out’? He pulled the stopper off and took a very careful sniff.

  ‘Strange, it doesn’t smell of anything in particular’. ’He put the stopper back on and carefully put the bottle back on the desk where he had lifted it from.

  The Doctor looked at him. ’It’s genetic’. He said.

  ‘Pardon’? said Inspector Johnson.

  ‘A lot of people believe that cyanide smells of almonds but it is actually a bit of a myth. The ability to smell it usually comes down to an individuals genetic make-up’. He looked up ’It is actually more rare for people to smell it than you would believe’.

  ‘But the smell…’? Inspector Johnson looked at The Doctor.

  Jacobs looked down at the desk and at the glass. He did the same procedure with his torchlight and then happy, he sniffed the glass. Looking at the desk he then knelt onto the floor and looked down at a stain on the rug. He sniffed at that too and then stood back up.

  ‘The glass and the rug especially have the almond smell’ he looked around the room glancing past a table with two celery vases and into the corner of the room where there was a drinks cabinet. There was a bottle on the top and it did not have its lid on.

  ‘Amaretto’, he said and pointed to the bottle. ’Spilt on the floor and the bottle was left open’. He looked at The Inspector and said ’I have a feeling that somebody wanted to draw our attention to the cyanide’.

  ‘To draw our attention from something else’?

  ‘Well, once we have toxicology results back we will know for sure but I don’t see any obvious signs of cyanide poisoning on the body’. He glanced across to the body of Robert Blackmore.

  Inspector Johnson walked over to the drinks cabinet and looked over to The Doctor. ’Do you think it possible that some prussic acid was put in with the amaretto to try and confuse us’?

  ‘It’s always possible Johnson, but without getting it tested we are not going to know and I certainly don’t think I am going to take a sip to find out’!

  ‘Good point’. The policeman smiled. He looked down into the cabinet and then up towards the Tantalus. He then tried to open the Tantalus without any success ’locked’.

  ‘Why lock it with one decanter out’?

  ‘Misdirection. Whoever did this is trying to create so much confusion that we will be unable to see the truth’ He looked across to the doctor.

  ‘What do you think…’? he was interrupted as there was a knock and Constable Peters put his head around the door.

  ‘Sorry to Disturb, Sir, But just thought you would like to know that Barbara Blackmore is down and ready to see you’. He vanished and shut the door behind him.

  Inspector Johnson looked at Doctor Jacobs and said ‘In all honesty I don’t think that could have been timed better. The sensible thing would be that we spoke to the sister now’.

  #

  6. His Sister.
<
br />   …five hours earlier.

  Barbara Blackmore lay awake feeling a little unsettled. She thought that she had heard a movement downstairs and was not sure whether she had locked all of the windows. Besides that it was awfully cold so she slowly edged out of bed and walked across the carpeted bedroom where she put her feet into her slippers and reached her dressing-gown down from the hook upon the back of the door. She felt properly attired by the time that she went downstairs to check the windows.

  The windows themselves were all securely locked and she even checked the front door to make sure that it was properly bolted. With a still uncertain feeling hovering around her she went to the bathroom where she washed her hands and face. When she had finished she went back to her bedroom and climbed into bed where she suddenly remembered what it was that had concerned her. She got back up and went and turned the key in the lock before settling back to sleep.

  Barbara Blackmore was, or at least had been, ten years older than her brother Robert. She had lived all of her life with the curse of being the eldest child with a feeling of always being treated with indifference and more importantly, believing that her parents preferred her younger brothers, Robert and Bobby. Some people might conclude that this level of deep routed resentment could cause an unbalanced person to kill and in this story all suspicions do need to be considered. The Inspector and The Doctor were talking to her:

  ‘Can you tell us a little about your brother’? Asked Johnson.

  ‘He worked too hard, he drank far too much and he smoked too much’! she said to the point.

  ‘Hard liquor’?

  ‘Brandy, Whisky, but he also had a sweet tooth and liked Amaretto. He even liked to make his ice-cubes out of grenadine’.

  ‘A little eccentric?’ Inspector Johnson added.

  ‘He had just started smoking a fake cigarette and he took it everywhere - his ‘little one’ he had started calling it. He even kept resting it upon an ashtray in his study’ she had a memory and smiled.

  ‘When did you see him last’?

  ‘Around ten o’clock last night before he went through to his study’.

  ‘You didn’t see him in his study’?

  ‘No, he locked the door when he went in there because he liked to keep his private papers private and if he wasn’t to be found in his study he would usually be in the basement’.

  ‘The basement’?

  ‘Yes, it’s where he kept his chemical cabinet’.

  ‘Right… and did you notice anything strange yesterday’?

  ‘Well… no, not really’. She looked at the two men.

  ‘Miss Blackmore’? Inspector Johnson spoke.

  ‘It was just Bobbi, sorry, Roberta’. She paused.

  ‘Go on Miss Blackmore’.

  ‘Well, Robert and Bobbi had been in the sitting-room and I happened to be walking down the corridor. There were angry raised voices and were obviously having an argument, and I heard him say something about ‘hardly’ - but it made no sense’. She acted a little puzzled.

  ‘Anything else’?

  ‘Just last night, something…’ her voice trailed off.

  ‘Please continue Miss Blackmore’ the inspector urged.

  ‘Well, I got up to go to the bathroom and as I walked back along the landing I looked out of the window and thought I saw Bobby walking outside but I must have been mistaken. There was a lot of snow and it might have simply been a shadow’.

  ‘Any idea at what time…’?

  ‘It can’t have been any later than eleven o’clock. But why would he be out at night in such weather’?

  ‘Why indeed’? The Inspector said. He looked at Barbara Blackmore. ‘How do you keep yourself busy in the days’?

  ‘I have my gardens’ she smiled. Although the weather is bad at present we still have the greenhouse which has additional heating through a generator and that is where I grow the celery’.

  ‘Celery’? Doctor Jacobs asked.

  ‘Yes, Bob loves it’. She stopped and corrected herself. ’He loved it’. She looked genuinely upset.

  ‘So, you like to keep yourself active’?

  ‘Within reason, I am diabetic so I have to be careful’

  ‘Daily injections? It’s difficult I am sure’ the Inspector said.

  ‘Not really. When you have had it as long as I have you know how to manage the condition. There is plenty of insulin around and plenty of syringes as well. You would think that this house was a doctors surgery’ she smiled.

  ‘Why was your brother cutting down on the cigarettes’?

  ‘Health, what else? He had recently received bad news and was trying to do what he could to manage his health and he was lately complaining out the lack of taste in his food’.

  There was a knock at the door and the housemaid opened the door. ‘If you please Miss Blackmore, there is a phone call for you‘.

  She stood, ‘if you will excuse me gentlemen’?

  ‘Certainly, although we may have a few questions later’.

  ‘I’m not going anywhere’. She smiled and walked out of the room.

  Inspector Johnson also stood up. He looked at Doctor Jacobs and spoke:

  ‘We may as well continue to look in the study until Bobby Blackmore is available’. With that, the two gentlemen left the room.

  #

  7. The Hammer And The Knife.

  The claw-hammer was situated at a mid-point on the red leather desk. It was a high quality hammer and highly polished with a twenty-four ounce body that was of a solid one-piece construction. For the users comfort and convenience the handle was of rolled leather which helped to give it a good grip when the device was being held and swung. The head of the hammer which had a strong and sharp claw, could service a multitude of tasks and was ideal for the putting in and removing of nails, cracking the outer layer of a coconut, or indeed the caving in of a human skull. There was not a coconut in the room but there was a nail on the floor.

  Back in the study, Inspector Johnson looked down at the hammer on the table. ‘A typical claw hammer. Well maintained’.

  The doctor picked it up with his handkerchief. ‘Good weight’ he said.

  ‘Why would you have a hammer in here’?

  ‘Why would you have the knife, or the poison’?

  ‘Fair Enough’.

  The doctor inspected the hammer but could not see any signs of bloody matter on its head. Besides, the body had shown no sign of a blunt force trauma. Was this just a red herring to confuse matters? Inspector Johnson had been examining something on the floor and he picked it up and passed it to the doctor.

  ‘Look at this’.

  ‘A nail’?

  ‘A bent nail’!

  ‘So it has been pulled out of something, but what? The wall’? A perfunctory examination of the walls showed no sign of a hole.

  ‘Why is it here’?

  ‘Somebody is trying to stop us looking’.

  ‘At what’?

  ‘At the obvious’.

  ‘Which is’? The Inspector asked.

  ‘Which is not obvious at the moment’ said Jacobs with a grim smile. He put down the hammer and gave his attention to the next item on the desk.

  Next to the hammer on the desk was a knife. There was nothing in particularly special about the knife. It had a twenty centre metre blade and was razor sharp. The blade was made of stainless steel and the handle was made of wood. It would be an ideal tool for chopping vegetables such as carrots and onions and it would also be capable of removing a person’s finger. It could also be used to stab somebody.

  In the room, there were no carrots or onions. If somebody looked at both hands of the body in the chair they would note that all of the fingers were attached but that same person might also note that there was a dried patch of blood around the chest. In fact the body did have a stab wound.

  ‘A very sharp kitchen knife’.

  ‘No marks, very clean. New maybe’? The doctor had a thought but the things were not making sense. He would
be surprised if the knife had been used for anything and there was no blood that could be seen on the blade. The only red fluid he had seen was on the ice pick and from what he had seen and heard already he was quite confident that it was not blood. Just somebody trying to give the impression of blood.

  ‘Nothing obvious’?

  ‘Nothing obvious’.

  ‘We need to look at the deceased’.

  The knife was carefully placed back with the other objects and the two men worked their way around the desk to place their focus upon the body itself.

  #

  8. The Body And A Note.

  The two men now turned their attention to Bob himself. As dead as he was there was still a reasonable amount that he might be able to help them with. Doctor Jacobs started with the face and noted the bluish lips.

  ‘There are white streaks running down from the mouth’ he spoke aloud. ‘They could be corrosion lines. Perhaps an acid burn’? He turned to the detective and added ‘but you would only drink acid on purpose if you wanted to kill yourself. If you drank it by mistake, you would spit it out immediately. The pain would be excruciating’.