The Killer's Game

The Webley and the Collier

I only had to look at all my gathered evidence, and all the facts. I folded my hands behind my back, and scraped my throat in order to get attention of the policemen gathered around the crime scene.

'Gentlemen, I can say with certainty,' I pointed my cane in direction of the dead woman slumped over in the corner of the room, 'that miss Everdeen has been murdered. And by whom.'
An officer came closer to examine the dead body one more time, and frowned.
'All evidence points to suicide, she's even left a letter! Why are you even here? The case is closed, lady,' he said. His voice was old and overused. There was a slight rasp in his voice as well. However, I thought otherwise.
I sighed and put my cane beside me once again. 'Untrue. If you were to focus at the details rather than the obvious trail the killer has left, you can see my tale rings true. For example,' I walked to the dead body and knelt down there. I grabbed miss Everdeen's chin, turning the head and showing the right-hand temple.
'Miss Everdeen was killed by a bullet from a Collier revolving shotgun, explaining the shattering of the skull. However, the gun we found at the crime scene was a Webley's revolver.' I stood up again, pulling my skirts straight. 'That would be enough to think of this as a murder. Secondly; miss Everdeen was left-handed.'
The policeman frowned again. 'How would you know? You said you didn't know her personally.'
I nodded and crossed my arms. 'As is the truth. However, take a minute and look around her house. Everything points to a left handed woman. Look at the way she put her cups on the counter. All handles point to the left. Her sketching pad, the pencils lay on the left-hand side. Take another look at the pad, and look how many smudges she has made by accidentally wiping her sleeve across the page. Shooting yourself in the right-hand temple whilst being left handed is extremely difficult. Besides that; she couldn't have written that letter.'
'Why so?'
'She's an illiterate. She's known for letting others write her notes for her, ask her son. She's attempted to learn the alphabet, thus explaining the big chart of letters hung on her wall.' I nodded to the childish-looking chart with colorful letters painted on it.
'Any more evidence for a murder required, gentlemen?' I asked, looking around the room. Some of them shook their head, and others just looked on.
I nodded. 'Amazing. Other information her son has given me is that her husband, sir David Smith, had left for the army. Miss Everdeen was known to be a cougar, therefore she had many partners whilst her husband was on duty.'
Seeing that the policemen were once again clueless about my assumption, I sighed and patted my finger on the end of my cane.
'Letters, gentlemen, the letters. The ones that have been piling up by the door, those are. Numerous names, Donovan, Garrison, Jefferson- all those names are no coincidences. They are men that visit the same pub every week, nonetheless that she went there as well, given her receipts and eyewitnesses. She wasn't able to read them, hence is why she ignored them. Also, her husband came home 2 weeks ago, given the records of the army.'
'So you think mister Smith has murdered his own wife because she slept with others?' a younger policeman asked, stepping forward. Bright lad, he might be going places.

I nodded. 'Yes, again going from eyewitness reports and acquaintances' claims, mister Smith was known for his extravagant tantrums.'
'And you think that should exclude everyone else?' an older policeman said. 'You're ruling out legit possibilities.'
'What other possibilities were there? She was a loved woman, she cared and loved others more than any woman in London. Nevertheless, the men she slept with were all unmarried, so their wives couldn't have done it.'
The policemen were all baffled by my claims, and I just looked at them, hoping they'd say something.
'As for that- domestic murders are a b below my expertise. We've got a suspect now, gentlemen, and on that note, I'll be off.'
I nodded as a gesture goodbye, and left the house. Walking outside, I could see my coach already waiting for me, with the coachman already opening the door for me. I smiled and greeted him.
'Good afternoon, mister Bird,' I said as I took his helping hand and got into the coach. He gave me a quick nod and walked to his spot on the front side of the coach.
'Solved another murder, then, milady?' mister Bird asked me. I sighed as I put my cane beside me on the bench.
'More or less. Another domestic murder, and you know how much I dislike predictable murders.' I sighed and grabbed my pocket watch and checked the time. Half past four, I'd be back just in time for tea.
'I'm betting ten pounds on her husband,' mister Bird said grinning. I nodded and crossed my legs.
'And ten pounds earned, Mister Bird. Like I said, a predictable domestic murder.' I clacked my cane against the side of the coach to signal that I was ready to depart. 'Ever so dull,' I added.