"S" is for Suspect--The Tale of Tesla
"My God… forced back into a life of crime…" --Tesla.
It was exactly 9:42 in the evening, the rain was falling quite hard of the house, there were several candles lit because the power was out, smoke curled up from somebody's pipe, and a very important person had been murdered. In short, it was going to be a very rough evening, and rougher still by the looks of the crowd sitting round Inspector Pinkerton. They were all, all eight of them, all suspected of killing the very important person--one Doctor James Philemon, a resident of local parts.
The night was particularly stormy, but it was a calming storm--the kind that would put even a nervous child to bed. Still, the power had gone out, so the entirety of the room--the locked room, since Inspector Pinkerton did not wish for any suspects to leave--the entirety of the room was dotted with candlelight. Inspector Pinkerton paced around the room, calmly calculating as his eyes moved from person to person.
It was his pipe that was smoking. Pinkerton wished to have a good smoke around 9:45 every evening, and tonight he decided to attend to his habits a little earlier than usual. Perhaps this was a good thing; the clientele in the room was rather disagreeable, to say the least. It was not guaranteed that only one person was the killer; indeed, all eight of them might have been involved, directly or not. In a sense, they already were, so Pinkerton concluded that, until proven otherwise, they were all of them guilty.
From a clockwise position, if Pinkerton was facing the only door in or out of the room, there were exactly five men and three women in the room. Their histories were clouded, and up until recently, Pinkerton had not known their names. He simply addressed them as Sir of Ma'am; in fact, he was only truly knowledgeable enough with one suspect to call them by name, and this was a scrivener named Tesla. Everyone else, by some definition, was an alien.
The body--that is, Dr. Philemon--had been found dead in the kitchen. There were no stab wounds, and he was not bleeding abnormally. Now, before the doctor had sat down for his supper, he had received a minor cut on his left hand, somewhere above the knuckle of his index finger, so he was shedding blood, just not at an alarming rate that might suggest foul play. He was also in his slippers, but this was logical since he usually bathed after supper.
When Dr. Philemon was discovered (by his assistant, who was one of the suspects), he was slumped over his meal, which had consisted of roast with mixed vegetables and a little bit of cheese. The roast was still warm when examined, and not eaten at much, so it was assumed that Dr. Philemon had died almost as soon as he began eating. After filing through the doctor's medical file, Pinkerton found no cause for allergic reaction to the food. Though Philemon had a physical imbalance for cat hair and certain arachnids, he could take any food and not be harmed by it.
Five minutes into his investigation, Pinkerton had already assumed that A) the doctor had not died of allergic reactions (there was not a trace of cat hair in the house, not even in the trash cans), B) he had not died from any stab wounds, since he was not bleeding profusely, and C) he had been killed almost as soon as he began eating. The case was not an easy one, but Pinkerton had seen far more difficult ones, with far more suspects and far less time to dig through everything. This one, though, would certainly prove a challenge.
The suspects, every single one of them, had been gathered inside the room as soon as the doctor was pronounced dead. Inspector Pinkerton, a well to-do gentleman who usually did well on enigmatic murder cases, had been called to close the case by the end of the week. He promised a conclusion within two days' time; so far, he was faring well.
Aside from Tesla and the doctor's assistant, there were six others gathered in the room that had been pointed out. Inspector Pinkerton visited each of them, one by one, and made his usual inquiry. From a brief grilling, he learned that Philemon had had several people over at his house during the time of murder. Some had reasonable alibis for their presence, others did not.
Clockwise, there was Tesla the scrivener, who had been the doctor's personal scribe for some time now. Though he lacked outstanding characteristics, Tesla was competent in his field, and was known to legally forge many documents in his employer's stead (which had came from his early years working for organized crime). His methods were very precise and he was quite meticulous, but as a suspect, he had no real reason for murder, save his wages were low.
After Tesla was the doctor's personal assistant. The young man had studied under Philemon ever since he entered medical school, and the two grew to be friends. This assistant respected Philemon greatly, and had hoped to one day fill in the older man's shoes. He also had no real reason to kill, but he was the first to know about the doctor's death, and so was added to the list because of his unbelievable speed.
One of the invited guests had been an obscure but talented appraiser. The doctor, himself a fairly rich man, had hired somebody to come over and assess the value of several paintings. Though this man did not know Philemon well, he knew of his riches, and could have easily stolen several valuables himself were the doctor dead.
The doctor's current mistress, a classy and civilized lady who sometimes smoked from a hookah, had given a polite guffaw when fingered as a suspect. Though harmless on the outside, she and Philemon often had quarrels and fights, which would usually end well but sometimes festered on. The lady was not particularly wealthy, but she also had no interest in the doctor's gold. She was merely suspected for the occasional threat uttered to the man.
Aside her was Philemon's chief chef. This big woman, who obviously knew how to eat just as much as she knew how to cook, was a stubborn sort who always preferred her diners to smile at her meals. Temperamental and very disagreeable, the cook had been getting lots of negative feedback from her employer, and could have easily snuck something nasty into the roast before serving it. Many fingers pointed to her.
There was also the doctor's sister, who had practically estranged herself from the family. Though by no means a black sheep, the girl was nevertheless trouble, for she often engaged in…… questionable occupations, many of which involved areas around her bust, waist, or both. The two never agreed, and the sister was growing poor, and a death in the family would have guaranteed her the doctor's money.
There was also the main architect of the house. This man, unlike everyone else, knew the build of the house quite well--too well, in fact. He knew of every secret chamber and hidden passage, and could have crept around as he saw fit. Because of this knowledge he was suspected, even though his mind was simple and incapable of killing.
Finally, there was one last man in the room, the father of a patient of the doctor's. Early in his career, Philemon was unable to save the life of a young girl. The event had always been a curse on his mind, but a bigger curse still was on the father's lips. The man had been horribly angry with Philemon, and even swore revenge. That had been five years ago, but because of this event, he had been pulled into the room and suspected of murder.
With the eight suspects surrounding him, Pinkerton placed his hands behind his back and started to smoke on his pipe. With this number of people to interview, it would have taken him quite a while to really get anywhere, but he had plenty of time. He had promised to crack the case in two days, but his superiors would have been pleased enough by seven. He was sure, even if it took him hours on end, that the mystery would not go for three days. He started with the people who were almost certain to have not been involved, so he walked up to the doctor's assistant first.
"Now, sir," he began, "can you tell me where you were when you first learned of Dr. Philemon's death?"
"Yes, inspector. I was in the kitchen at the time. I wanted to get something to eat for dinner, and when I came into the room, I saw the doctor dead."
"I see." Pinkerton grumbled and nodded his head in thought. "Young man, you have knowledge in operative skills, correct?"
"What skills?"
"Forensics. You know how to use a scalpel, correct?"
"Yes, sir, I am licensed to use any medical tools except those specified by Dr. Philemon."
"I see. Young man, could you tell if the doctor had any abnormal cuts in his body?"
"I could sir, but he did not have any, other than the one on his hand." Pinkerton grumbled again, and sucked on his pipe.
"So you were simply hungry when you went into the kitchen."
"Yes, sir. I don't care for food now, obviously."
"And would you have any reason to… say, murder Dr. Philemon?"
"No, sir!!" exclaimed the assistant. "I studied under him for several years now. He's my mentor, sir! I could never bring myself to kill him, for any reason! Besides, I wanted my medical degree, and I could only get it if I studied under him. Now I'm stuck until I can find another physician to study under."
"I see." Pinkerton paused, and gazed at the assistant. With a sigh, he waved him away. "You certainly sound convincing. You have a plausible alibi, and since by killing him you would bring destruction upon yourself, I believe that you are innocent of the crime. But stay inside this room; I may need your testimony later."
"Yes, sir." The assistant sighed with relief, and slouched in his chair a little.
"Just like that," muttered the chef. "You're letting him go just like that?!"
"Ma'am, I can find no logical reason why this young man would want to end the life of his own teacher," argued Pinkerton. "I have reason to believe he is innocent; therefore, until I find proof otherwise, he shall be." The chef snorted and crossed her arms, but remained silent. With the assistant out of the way, Pinkerton went to the next least-likely suspect, in hopes of narrowing the list down further.
"Tell me, sir--what is your relationship to Dr. Philemon?"
"Uh, I was the architect that made his house, sir," answered the man.
"I see. And, do you remember where you were when you heard about his death?"
"Yes sir, I was at home reading the comics when I got a telegram from the police. They asked me to come over here and report."
"Ah!" The inspector smiled, and tapped the young man's arm. "So, I have your permission to confirm this claim by wiring the police department?"
"Yes, sir. They'll vouch for me." The inspector smiled, and shook his head.
"No, I suppose I can believe you. Besides, a telegram will take up too much time. I'm sure that, if you permit me, then I can believe you. You're off the hook, son, but stay here so I can get more information."
"Yes, sir."
"Hmph, rotten little…" The chef grumbled again, but was silenced by a glare from Pinkerton. He decided to save her for later.
One by one, Inspector Pinkerton sifted through each of the suspects, gaining much more knowledge about the crime but almost nothing about the criminal. The appraiser that had been hired was a stiff man, who continually insisted his innocence. He ended up admitting his lust for Philemon's money, but assured the inspector that he would have gotten a portion anyway--not from foul play, but as a fee for his work. A man in his position, he noted, did not go and do something rash like killing people over money.
Philemon's mistress, though distressed over the sudden death, also revealed nothing new. She admitted to wanting a portion of his gold as well, but assured the inspector that there were at least twelve other people he could interview that would back up her alibi. She had been at the opera at the time, and had only recently been able to come by, so after ascertaining that she could not have killed him, he left her for the others.
Philemon's sister was a tougher nut to crack. Pinkerton had to use several good grilling methods before she admitted to having spiteful thoughts towards her brother. But she assured him that there was only discord between them, and not murderous hate. Besides, with her broken arm (here she presented it to the inspector quite loudly), she would not have been able to perform any killing other than a stabbing or a clubbing, and neither applied.
Tesla was also a difficult person to coax, but with the proper amount of wholesome persuasion, Pinkerton was assured that the scrivener was not responsible for the death. True, Tesla was not getting fair wages, and this might have made him angry, but certainly not homicidal. Besides, he had been in the study the whole time--the doctor's assistant even proved it by taking the whole company to the study. Tesla was able to even pinpoint the very book he had been scribbling in--in fact, the very line he had scribbled when he heard the news. With such evidence, Pinkerton was forced to move onto the last two--the chef and the vengeful father.
As Pinkerton badgered the chef, Tesla sighed with relief. So, his ploy had worked. They did not suspect a thing. The doctor's patient was naïve; Pinkerton believed them simply because of their cooperation. He really and truly did not suspect a thing…
After an hour of interrogation, the cook came clean and fessed up to planning for the murder of Philemon. She was not charged with attempted murder, however, because her plans involved either strangulation, food poisoning, or stabbing, and it was clear that none of these methods were used. She was then proved innocent of murder, although the authorities would have to look into her plans for murder.
The dead patient's father was also technically clean. He, too, had been serious when he planned vengeance, but his business kept him away from the doctor's residence. Since he lived overseas, and had no connections to the doctor's land of residence, it was completely impossible for him to commit the murder, directly or otherwise.
After clearing everyone present, Pinkerton sat down in a stupor. So far, all suspects proved to be innocent of the crime. They had all good reasons why they could not have killed him--or would not have, for some--and each one was cleared of any charges. Tesla, however, smiled wisely as he left to go home. This one event, though relieving now, would plague him for the rest of his life. Even as he attempted to retire into a quiet life in Antei, this dirty business he had secretly been involved in would haunt him forever.
The End
Closing comments: So, how did he do it? Dr. Philemon was not stabbed, nor strangled, nor shot by a projectile. He had no allergy to the food, and it had not been poisoned by the cook. Philemon owned no animal that gave him an allergic reaction, and no animal could have crept in without the meticulous Tesla noticing. It was proven that Tesla was in the study at the time of death, and this room was on the opposite side of the house.
So, how did he do it?
There are clues scattered about in the story. If you pay close attention, you'll discover how he was able to do the murder, and get away with it. Scroll down for the answer, but only do so if you are stumped and cannot come up with a conclusion. Again, try solving the mystery yourself before scrolling down.
Remember that Dr. Philemon was wearing slippers when he dined--he always wore them at dinner, because his habit was bathing after his final meal of the day. Also, remember that he had a medical problem with arachnids--that is, he was probably violently allergic to them. Tesla, knowing the doctor's schedule due to his scrutiny, would have known when exactly the doctor would dine. Knowing about the man's ill reaction to arachnids, Tesla released a venomous spider in the room near the doctor's chair, and then left the room to attend to his studies. The doctor might have seen Tesla leave (probably just thinking that he had gotten himself a snack), but he would not have suspected anything. By the time the spider crawled up to Philemon's exposed foot and bit him, Tesla would have made it to the study and would have plenty of time to continue his work. The bite of the spider, though very poisonous, would also be very small--too small for a private investigator like Pinkerton to notice.
The case would remain unsolved.