Child's Play

Chapter #8: Spider-Man

“D’you think he’d lost a lot of money? I mean, suicide is pretty common among City boys,” John suggested to Sherlock and me with crossed arms. 

I was beside him with my own hands in the pockets and Sherlock (who was currently without his coat, normal black gloves, and scarf) on the other as he pulled on white gloves. Police officers were all around the flat. A photographer was taking pictures of Van Coon on the bed and a forensics officer was dusting for fingerprints on the nearby mirror. If I kept quiet enough, I could hear distant voices of the officers moving about.

“We don’t know that it was suicide,” Sherlock said.

“Come on,” John said, turning his head as Sherlock kneeled beside a suitcase. I came over beside him and leaned against the wall. Sherlock opened the lid of the suitcase, revealing the content inside. “The door was locked from the inside; you had to climb down the balcony.”

I glanced over at him. “But why would he want to commit suicide, though? If that message was definitely for him then wouldn’t someone be after him?”

“Less he decided to kill himself before he could get killed,” John answered.

I bit my lip. “That just doesn’t sound right, John.”

“Been away three days, judging by the laundry,” Sherlock cut in. He was staring into the laundry that took up all of the suitcase. I took a step closer as his hand came and went to the indent that was deep in the centre of it all. I moved back, though, when Sherlock straightened up until he was standing at his full height and looked back and forth between John and me. “Look at the case. There was something tightly packed inside it.”

“Thanks – I’ll take your word for it,” John told him, giving the detective and the suitcase the briefest of glances. I snorted, coming over next to the doctor and bumping his hip with mine.

“Problem?” Sherlock asked a bit confused. 

“Yeah, I’m not desperate to root around some bloke’s dirty underwear,” John told him as he bumped me back.

“Blu?” Sherlock asked then, looking at me.

I shook my head, ignoring the baffled look that came into his eyes. “I’m good, thanks. The day I touch another’s undergarments is the day I’m happily married. Until then…”

Sherlock frowned a little. I gave a small smile and rolled my eyes as he walked past and moved so he was at the foot of the bed. “Those symbols at the bank – the graffiti. Why were they put there?”

“What, some sort of code?” John asked.

“Obviously,” Sherlock said as he started to inspect the dead man from top to bottom. “Why were they painted? If you want to communicate, why not use e-mail?”

“Well, maybe he wasn’t answering,” John said.

“Oh good. You follow.”

“Nope.”

I resisted the urge to laugh at the look Sherlock gave the doctor. I don’t think I did well in trying, though, because a look got thrown my way next.

“What kind of a message would everyone try to avoid?” Sherlock asked, just making John more confused. “What about this morning – those letters you were looking at?”

This time I gave Sherlock the confused look as John said, “Bills.”

“It has to have been a death threat, right?” I said, gaining John’s attention. Sherlock was too focused on prying open Van Coon’s mouth. “Why else put it in the bank for specifically one person to see? And there’s the fact that the one line of graffiti had covered the man’s eyes in that portrait. Perhaps being hinted at the idea of ‘see no evil’?”