Xeries Episode 3: The Baker Street Murder
“So you see,” I concluded, “it would’ve been impossible for the murderer to get to the Kitchen, grab the knife, and return to the Library in time to kill Mrs. White.”
“Ohhhh,” said Gerilynn in comprehension.
“Besides, I had the “knife” card,” I informed her with a grin.
“You know, Aaron, it’s just CLUE; you don’t have to take it as seriously as your job,” Kami said with a chuckle.
“I know. I guess I get caught up in the excitement of solving a mystery.”
Gerilynn, Sim, Kami, and I were at Gerilynn’s house enjoying a fun evening of CLUE and some various snacks, which to my disappointment, didn’t include chocolate.
“You know what would go good with my sweet victory? Chocolate,” I announced.
“Aaron, you know Kami can’t stand that stuff,” Sim told me, rolling his eyes.
“But it’s so good!”
“Is not. And it’s bad for your health!” Kami jumped in.
“Anyway, it’s getting late, and I still have some work to do on that car for the Mayor’s birthday, so I’d better get going,” Gerilynn said, getting up from her seat.
“Yeah, I have some…er, studying to do tonight,” Sim said, heading for the door.
We all said out goodbye’s, then went our separate ways. I decided to go back to the office to finish typing up some notes from my last case. Hit and run incident. The police were having trouble finding the guy and asked for my help. All the clues I found pointed to a dental assistant down the road from the scene of the crime, but I knew better. It was the dentist. Not only are dentists all evil, but his alibi didn’t pan out, After a not exactly legal interrogation (which may have included me threatening to pull all of his teeth with a rusty pair of pliers), he confessed. Another scumbag brought to justice. Oh, and the victim was fine: the pet turtle’s shell protected him from any injury.
When I had finished typing up my summary and filed it away, I sat back in my chair and started to think. I thought about some of the cases I’v had before, which weren’t so easy to handle. Like the Baker Street Murder…
Three Years Ago
“I’ve gotta warn ya, Tigah: it ain’t pretty.”
I nodded to the officer, indicating I understood. But I had to go in; it was my job. So I stepped over the crime scene tape and entered Apt# 5 at 357 Baker Street.
The officer had been telling the truth. As the hallway opened up into the living room, the people in the room ( two uniformed officers, a coroner, and a detective) stepped back, allowing me to inspect the crime scene. It was an average apartment: you walk in and there’s a small kitchen; past that, it opens into the living room, where on your left is an entertainment center with a coffee table in front of it, and a couch on the far wall with a window behind it; to the right of the couch is a small closet, and a hallway leading to the bedroom. Unlike most apartments, there was a dead girl in the middle of this one. She lay sprawled face up between the table and the couch, wearing only her nightgown, with a handgun in her left hand.. A pool of blood, now mostly soaked up by the carpet, surrounded the tangle of blond hair on her head. A large blood splatter decorated the wall behind her, and there was a hole in the right side of her head. On the coffee table, a piece of paper caught my attention: a suicide note, explaining that she could no longer bear the pain of the guilt she had, and realized this was the only way to relieve it.
After a few moments of silence, one of the officers filled me in on the details. “The vic’s name is Linda Warner; age 22; she was a student at the local college; lived alone; found by a concerned neighbor who hadn’t seen her leave for classes in the morning and tried knocking on the door, When no one answered, she let herself in using a key Linda kept just under the door in case of emergencies. Found her like this. There’s no prints on the gun, besides her’s. Also, we talked to the neighbors, and nobody heard a gun shot, but they all said a helicopter passed right over the building around 10:30 pm, same as the estimated time of death.”
I just nod, noting different things in the apartment: the position of the body, the open door of the closet, a key on the floor, the blinds on the window…
The man I assumed t be a detective approached me. “I’m Detective Bruner.”
“I’m Aaron Tigah, private-”
“Yeah, I know,” the detective said, cutting me off. “Listen, the only reason we called you in is because we’re short on detectives. They’re mostly working that serial killer case, and I got stuck with this one. They were ready to call it a suicide, when I noticed something was wrong-”
“That the gun is in the left hand, but the bullet entrance is in the right side of he head?” I guessed.
“Yeah, that’s right. Personally, I don’t think we need you, but if it’s what the captain wants, who am I to argue?” he said, shrugging his shoulders.
“Right, can I ask you a question?” I said, blowing him off, directing my attention on the lady officer in the room. “Do you have a closet in your home?”
“Yes,” she answered, a little caught off guard by the odd question.
“Do you leave the door open?”
“No.”
“And your windows, do they have blinds?”
“Yes.”
“Do you close them when you’re getting ready for bed?”
“Yes. Why?”
“Well, the closet door is open, and the blinds are open, too. Odd for a girl about to go to sleep.”
“Yeah, that’s just what I was thinking,” the detective informed me. “Also, there’s an interesting email on the girl’s phone.” He handed the phone to me, and I read the email, sent by a bioboi133: “I don’t understand, after all this time? How could you!? I love you! I thought we had something special!” I looked at the reply, which said “Well you thought wrong.” I looked through a few of her pictures, mostly self shots of her in various scenic places around town; a few with some friends, one of which I recognized.
“We’re tracing the screen-name now,” the detective told me. I handed him my card, and told him to call me when they had a name, then turned to leave. “What will you be doing,” he demanded. “I’ll be at the college, talking to her friends. I’ll give you $50 if you find the name of bioboi133 before I do,” I challenged him, then left.
I knew a guy in one of the pictures on the phone. His name is Celegaude (pronounced “sell a god”). He’s a student at the same college. He’s a bit of a loner, so I was surprised to see him in the cell phone of an attractive girl. He does tend to be hyper sometimes, so maybe that has something to do with it. I found him at the college after asking a few people. He was outside sitting at a park bench, reading. “Anything good?” I asked as I approached.
“Oh, just biology. There are a few interesting things. But I doubt you came here just to ask me about my literature, huh, detective?”
“Just a private eye, and yes, you’re right. You know a girl named Linda Warner?”
“Yeah, we take a few classes together. Did something happen?”
“Yes actually. She was found murdered in her apartment this morning.”
“God, that’s awful!”
“We’re you two close?”
“Not really. I gave her a few tips in photography class. The only pictures she could take were with her cell phone.”
“And she demonstrated that.”
“Yeah, she took one of us during our walk in the college garden after I helped her. She noticed I took pretty good nature pics, so that’s why she asked me to give her some pointers.”
“And how did her boyfriend feel about that?”
“Wait, Linda has a boyfriend?”
“Hm, I guess not. We’re there any boys that showed an interest in Linda?”
“Well, there was Leonard. Leonard Skinner.”
“Like the band?”
“Yeah. He hates it. Anyway, it was obvious she didn’t feel the same way. All three of us are -well, were- in biology together.”
“Let me guess: Room 133?”
“Yeah, that’s right.”
“Thanks a lot, you’ve been a big help.”
So to Room 133 I went. Luckily, class had just ended. I asked the professor where Linda usually sat and he pointed it out to me. Just as I guessed, there was a young man directly behind the empty seat, still scribbling in his notebook. “Leonard,” I ask as I approach his seat.
“Yes. And you are?”
“I’m Aaron Tigah. I’m a P.I. I’d like to ask you a few questions.”
“Regarding what?”
“Your relationship with Linda Warner. You mind if I record this?” I asked, pulling out my mini recorder.
“Go ahead. I was her tutor. She wanted to become a doctor, but wasn’t understanding this class, so she asked for my help.”
“So it was nothing more serious?”
“No. Strictly business.”
“Then why did you send her that email?”
“Excuse me?”
“The one asking her ‘how could she?’ And that you thought you had something special.”
“Oh. Alright, I’ll admit I liked her-”
“I believe your email said ‘love.’”
“I was upset! I had been tutoring her for 3 semesters, all for free, because she had been coming on to me, flirting with me all the time. When I finally asked her to diner, she turned me down, and told me she didn’t need me anymore since she was understanding everything now! After all that time!?”
“And she didn’t even care?”
“No! Not the slightest sign of guilt in her face.”
“That’s too bad. So last night was the last time you tutored her?”
“No. She called just before I got there. That’s when she told me she wasn’t home, and not to come over. Ever.”
“I see. Thanks for your time,” I said, then turned to walk away. As I did, he returned to writing in his notebook. “Mr. Skinner,” I called out, “you’re left-handed?”
“Yes,” he answered, looking up.
“Neat, me too. Have a good one.”
When I returned to my car, my cell phone buzzed.
“Hello?”
“Hey, Mr Tigah, Detective Bruner here. We tracked down that screen-name. The guy not only goes to the same college, but also has a gun registered in his name. Bioboi133 is-”
“Leonard Skinner, yeah I know. He’s at the college, room 133. Have your guys pick him up; he’s our shooter. Also dust the key on the floor, it’ll have his prints. I’ll explain when I get back at the apartment.
When I arrived at the apartment, the body has been moved, and the good detective was standing near the couch, waiting for my explanation. I let him listen to my conversation with Skinner, then started.
“There are a few major things that point to Leonard. Notice how he responds to my question about his relationship with Linda. He used past tense: ‘I was her tutor, she wanted to become a doctor.’”
“He already knew she was dead.”
“Right. Also, he is left-handed. The gun was found in Linda’s left hand. After he shot her, her made it look like a suicide by putting the gun in her hand: since he’s a lefty, he automatically put it in the hand he himself would use. One more thing, in the suicide note, it says she felt guilty, which is the same word Skinner used. He wanted her to feel guilty for breaking his heart. But she didn’t. And he couldn’t stand it.
Now here’s what I believe happened: Leonard gets the call, and is irate. He drives to her apartment anyway. since he’d been tutoring her for 3 semesters, he knew where she kept her emergency key, so he lets himself in and wait for her in the closet. He was probably going to wait for her to go to sleep, but when that helicopter passed over, he realized it was perfect since it could mask the sound of the gunshot. After he shoots her, he rushes to write the letter and plant the gun, dropping the key when he goes to get something to wipe the gun with.”
“Wow. All this because he couldn’t tutor her anymore?”
“No. All this because she used him, and she didn’t love him back. And he couldn’t handle that.”
His prints were indeed on the key. He confessed, and is now a transfer student from college, to prison, where hopefully he’ll learn that you don’t always get what you want, and that good lovin’s hard to find.
) It’s got me thinking. About 2 things mainly.
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