Flowers
Detective Story : Flowers
Short Story, By Prabir Rai Chaudhuri . All Copyright Reserved 2020.
The house was still in disarray. A busy party, the inspector thought as he made his way through the living room and up the stairs to the crime scene. Lawyer Sidacini was lying cold in his bed. His son Giacomo came in with the inspector and headed for the window. Shortly afterward two women came in, one tall and dark, the other a tiny blonde. At first glance there was nothing to suggest murder. The case seemed like a waste of time to him. He ran a hand through his thick white mane. He was about to turn on his heel, but a sense of duty made him ask:
<<Why the police?>>
<<A stupid obsession of my sister.>> He cast a sidelong glance at the brunette woman.
<<Carla, Sidacini. I made the call after the maid discovered the body.>>
<<Why?>>He looked impatiently at his watch he had real murders to deal with.
<<Dad had been sick for days, he feared they were poisoning him.>>
"It's true and even the doctor finds it plausible." The blond little girl interjected.
<<And who are you?>>
<<My name is Shirley Sinclair. I am a friend of Carla.>>
<<Too little to talk about murder.>> Giacomo smiled in the shadows.
<<Was the window open?>> asked the English voice.
<<I opened it. I was hot.>> Giacomo replied in a neutral tone.
<<That's enough! I have no evidence for an investigation!>> The inspector grew impatient.
<<But the doctor, yes!>> exclaimed the two women.
<<The doctor?>> asked the inspector.
"He's Carla's partner." Giacomo intervened contemptuously, to clarify his opinion of the man.
"And you're broke!" his sister retorted.
<<Okay, I'll investigate if you really want to waste my time, but I'll just listen to the doctor tomorrow.>>
That evening the doctor was robbed at home and his office was destroyed by fire.
The commissioner hung up the phone, which had become red hot. He had been in that town too short a time, and apparently he had been wrong to underestimate a case that, judging by the orders, had absolute priority. The lawyer was too prominent a personality to ignore such glaring coincidences. He took a breath, memorizing the scene of the <<crime>>. A room locked from the inside, windows closed. A spartan room: the bed where the victim lay, a very large wardrobe, a chest of drawers and a nightstand on which were placed some flowers. A nice mystery, not to mention the fire and the theft to the detriment of the doctor.
He had decided to return to the crime scene, but he didn't expect to find the little blond boy snooping around.
"What is he doing here?" he asked, angrily.
<<I was checking a theory.>> She replied candidly, in her irritating accent, continuing to fiddle with the wardrobe.
<<And please?>>
<<The doctor will have told you that the food was carefully controlled.>>
<<Yes>> He nodded, continuing to observe her.
<<And that the stolen analyses were, however, unequivocal.>>
<<So what?>> He asked, increasingly irritated by that damned accent.
<<Well I think the poison was administered after the check.>>
<<Look, I stick to the facts. Can we stop with the nonsense?>> At that moment a click resounded in the room.
<<I knew it!>> exclaimed the blond wren.
<<So?>> He asked, glancing at the passage that had opened behind the wardrobe.
<<Let's see where it leads!>> There was enthusiasm in that annoying voice. Despite himself, he followed her along the passage. It led outside. And it looked like it had been used recently. Strange indeed, he thought. Things were getting complicated.
He was in his office. He had discovered that the poison had not been ingested, but rather inhaled, in small doses, up to the lethal one. After a careful analysis, he had understood what had been the means used by the murderer. Flowers. The servants had confirmed that the daughter always brought flowers to the victim, both in the study and in the bedroom. However, they had found traces of poison, albeit slight, only in the second vase. Why? He was mulling over this detail, when the door opened.
<<But how did you get the idea to arrest Carla?>> The English wren was in front of him, furious. He leaned over the desk to look at her.
<<He had a motive and the opportunity>>
<<The motive? Giovanni had it too.>>
<<He is excluded from the property.>>
<<In the old will. According to the new one, a sum awaits him, although not a very large one. And he is full of debts.>>
<<So what?>>
<<Don't you understand? It was him!>> That woman was worse than a thorn in the side.
<<Him?>> he asked skeptically.
<<Remember the window? I think he did it to avoid breathing in the poison.>>
<<It could be, but the lady could have gotten the poison.>>
<<For that matter, even John.>> What if that annoying woman was right?
<<Do you have any evidence?>>
<<No. But we can set a trap for him.>>
<<A trap?>>
<<Yes. Through the passage.>> And he went on to explain his reasoning.
They had spread the word that the police had discovered how the killer had administered the poison to his victim. They had not mentioned the flowers, a detail that the inspector had kept to himself, revealing it only to Carla, who was still in prison. Frankly, he was still convinced of her guilt, even if he was starting to have doubts. They had not even mentioned the passage, but only evidence to be checked the next morning. That evening he was there to check the outcome of that trap, while Shirley was in the dark room. He strongly doubted that anyone would rush to check the passage.
And instead, shortly after, armed with a torch, Giovanni entered the room and headed towards the wardrobe.
Shirley turned on the light and confronted him. An argument led to the man confessing. Then he pulled out his gun, pointing it at the woman. At that moment he and his men came out of the bathroom to arrest him.