The Laws of Attraction - The Blind Banker

The Blind Banker

     Leanna strode around the flat as the people in blue jumpsuits turned it over. The Detective Inspector- Dimmock was his name- had made her put the same pair of rubber gloves as they all wore. Perhaps he'd lost a lot of money, perhaps his girlfriend broke up with him, perhaps both. Her mind kept swirling around as she attempted to deduce something, anything. But she was no Sherlock.

     She sat on the sofa, watching as they rooted through Van Coon's belongings. She supposed she should do something to help, instead of being idle, so she picked up the pen and pad of paper from the ottoman in front of her, flipping through it to see if there were any notes that might give them any information.

     Then, she stopped. Leanna looked from the pen to the pad and back again. She switched hands so the pen was in her right, then back to the left where it had originally been.

     "Sherlock!" She called. After a few moments, he and John appeared from the bedroom, following Dimmock. Sherlock removed his gloves.

     "What is it? Have you found something?"

     "Where did the bullet go in?" She asked.

     "The right side of his skull."

     "But, then he couldn't have shot himself, because Van Coon was left-handed."

     "Left-handed?" Dimmock asked, not seeing the pattern.

     "Yeah," she explained, "I picked up the paper and pen, and the pen was positioned to be picked up by the left, so he could write."

     "Oh, of course." Sherlock clued in. "Yes, of course! Coffee table on the left, coffee mug handle pointing to the left, power sockets- habitually used the ones on the left. There's a knife on the breadboard with butter on the right side of the blade because he used it with his left. It's highly unlikely that a left-handed man would shoot himself in the right side of his head. So, it wasn't suicide." He concluded.

     "It was murder." Leanna felt a rush inside her, a surge of adrenaline. "Is this what it's like, being in your head?" She asked Sherlock, "It's quite exciting."

     "Isn't it?" He responded pridefully.

     "And the gun?" Dimmock asked, trying to poke a hole in their theory.

     "He was waiting for the killer. He'd been threatened." Sherlock explained.

     "Today at the bank. Sort of warning." John continued.

     "Wait until you get the ballistics report. The bullet in his brain wasn't fired from his gun, I guarantee it." Sherlock told him, pulling on his jacket, scarf and gloves.

     "If the door was locked from the inside, how did the killer get in?"

     "Good," Sherlock told Dimmock, "you're finally asking the right questions." He sounded ticked. Leanna watched as his gaze moved past Dimmock to the door which she had first followed Sherlock in.

      "Leanna," he suddenly grabbed her arm, dragging her backwards, and she let out a yelp of surprise. He positioned her in front of the door and took a step back, looking at the picture in front of him. He pulled out his phone and snapped a shot.

     "What's all this for?" She asked him, blushing as he took her picture. Sherlock ignored her and walked out the front door. John just shrugged and followed him from the flat. She joined them on the streets.

     "I'll meet up with you later." She told them as she walked off, hailing a cab of her own to take her back to Baker Street.

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