Sherlock
Kelvin and the Deceiving DeathThe battered trees blew helplessly against the walls of 226 Copper Street. The winds screeched through a crack in the wall. And, in the distance, if you listened carefully, a piercing scream echoed through the nightÉ.
"Good morning, Kelvin," Dr. Millikan said as he entered 226 Copper Street on a stormy Monday morning. "I trust you slept well."
"Hardly," Kelvin replied from where he sat in his favorite chair. "I thought I heard a woman scream about 4 o'clock last night."
"It could have been the wind, of course. We had quite a storm," Millikan commented.
"Yes, I suppose you're right," Kelvin said.
Millikan turned toward the tea service and poured himself a cup of tea. He sat down and raised the cup to his lips.
"Millikan."
"Yes, Kelvin?"
"Go to the door," Kelvin stated. "We're about to have a visitor."
Millikan pulled open the door, revealing the Captain of Police.
"Good day, Dr. Millikan," the Captain said as he stepped into the room.
"You wanted to speak with me?" Kelvin asked.
"Yes, I did," he replied. "It has come to our attention that a Miss Lillian Van Allen was brutally murdered at her home. Her relatives have requested that you investigate." She was discovered by her sister early this morning."
"Where did Miss Van Allen live?" Millikan asked.
"Two doors down, actually," the Captain stated before leaving.
"Well, let us go to the Coroner's office," Kelvin said. "I should like to see the body."
And so the two went outside to the waiting cab. Neither spoke during the ride to the Coroner's. As they entered the building, a bolt of lightning struck out of the still cloudy skies.
In the morgue, the bare light bulb flickered. The door creaked as Millikan and Kelvin stepped in.
"Good morning," the Coroner and his assistant said. "This is the body you requested to see."
Kelvin and Millikan stepped over to take a closer look.
A long, sharp knife protruded from the victim's chest.
"HmmmÉ. Interesting. Quite interesting," Kelvin said to himself.
"What is it, Kelvin?" Millikan Asked.
"How long would you say Miss Van Allen has been dead?" Kelvin asked him.
Millikan looked at the body.
"From the rigimortis, I'd say 36 hours," he said.
"Exactly," Kelvin said. "ButÉ there is no blood around the stab wound. Miss Van Allen was already dead when someone stabbed her. Once someone is dead, their heart stops pumping blood and the blood coagulates in the veins."
"What killed her?" Millikan asked.
"That's what we're going to find out," Kelvin replied. "Do you have the autopsy report?"
"Right here," the Coroner said, handing Kelvin the report. "I found high quantities of hydrochloric acid in her system. The hydrochloric acid can prove poisonous."
"So she was poisoned then!" Millikan said. "After all, hydrochloric acid looks just like water."
"Not so fast," Kelvin replied. "Hydrochloric acid would burn if she swallowed it and there is no sign of injury to her mouth. Besides, the autopsy report also says she was
smothered."
"Let's go talk to some of Miss Van Allen's relatives. Maybe we will come upon an interesting lead."
Right away, Kelvin," Millikan said as he followed Kelvin back into the waiting cab.
When they arrived at the deceased's home, they found three people already there; her sister, her brother, and her father.
"Now, I understand, Mrs. Beaker, that you found your sister's body," Kelvin said.
"Yes," she replied." "She hadn't been feeling well all this week. When I went up to her bedroom to check on herÉ. she was dead." Mrs. Beaker started to cry as she finished her sentence.
"Had you seen your sister anytime during the last two days?" Millikan asked.
"No," Mrs. Beaker replied.
"What about you gentlemen?" Kelvin asked.
"Before we answer, may I ask why you need this information? I thought my daughter was killed during the night," her father, Mr. Van Allen, asked.
"I'm simply trying to organize the events leading up to Miss Van Allen's death," Kelvin stated.
"Are you implying that one of us was involved?' Mrs. Beaker asked.
"I'm not at liberty to say quite yet," Kelvin said.
"Well, I was attending to business in Norway," the father said. "I arrived here on the 8 o'clock train."
"I was attending a lecture in Paris yesterday," the brother said. I left Friday night and didn't return until late this morning."
"Yes. Thank you for your time," Kelvin said as he and Millikan stood up. "We'll show ourselves out."
Before they left, though, Kelvin walked around the house.
"One of those three relatives is a killer," Kelvin said as they arrived back at 226 Copper Street.
"What makes you say that?" Millikan asked curiously.
"Nothing was damaged in the house. The doors and windows were intact. The killer had to be someone the victim knew well. Yet, the report shows that neighbors told police that Miss Van Allen was a recluse. She hardly ever left her house and she never spoke to anyone except those three relatives."
"So, all we have to do is narrow the suspect list from three to one," Millikan said.
"Precisely," Kelvin said. "Would you care to accompany me on a visit to each relative tomorrow?'
"Of course," Millikan replied. "But wouldn't it make more sense to go separately so as not to arouse suspicions?"
"Excellent thinking, Millikan. I shall visit the younger Mr. Van Allen and Mrs. Beaker. You shall visit the father."
* * * * * * * * * *
"Would you like some tea?" Mrs. Beaker asked as she escorted Kelvin to the parlor late Tuesday morning.
"Yes, please," he said as they sat down.
Mrs. Beaker gave him a cup of tea from the tea service on the table next to her.
"Were you close to your sister?" Kelvin asked.
"Yes," was the reply.
"Since your sister died before leaving a will, her estate and possessions will be divided among your brother, father, and yourself. Are you aware of that?' Kelvin asked.
"Yes, I was just informed of that today," Mrs. Beaker replied.
"May I ask how your sister came into possession of so much money?" he asked.
"Our grandfather. Lillian was always his favorite. When he died, he left her his estate and the factory. She sold everything soon after his death. Father was president of the factory and never found another job."
Mrs. Beaker's eyes started to fill with tears. She took her handkerchief from her pocket and raised it to her eyes. As she did, Kelvin spotted a red stain on one of the corners. He thought of an idea. He started to cough violently.
"Can I trouble you for a glass of ice water?" he asked between coughs.
"Of course. I'll go get a glass," Mrs. Beaker said. As she stood up and walked toward the kitchen, her handkerchief fluttered to the floor.
After making sure she was gone, Kelvin quickly switched her plain, white handkerchief with an identical one of his own."
"Here's your water," Mrs. Beaker said as she returned to the parlor.
"Thank you," Kelvin said, accepting the glass. He drank about half the glass. "I feel much better now. I must be on my way. I have just realized that I am late for an appointment."
"Are you sure you're alright? That cough sounded rather bad," Mrs. Beaker asked as she opened the door.
"I'm fine. Thank you once again for you hospitality," Kelvin said as he left.
Next he visited the laboratory of the younger Mr. Van Allen. Actually, he was properly addressed as Dr. Van Allen. The laboratory was sparingly furnished and had aging, worn-down equipment.
"Hello again, Mr. Kelvin," Dr. Van Allen said as they sat down in his tiny office off the lab. There was no emotion in his voice, neither sadness nor coldness. "I'm very busy. Might I ask what brings you here today?"
"I just have a few questions to ask you. You're a scientist. Why do you think someone would poison your sister with hydrochloric acid? Why wouldn't they use something simpler like arsenic? That poison is colorless, usually tasteless, and it doesn't linger in the victim's body. Also, you can get arsenic anywhere. Only people such as scientists have access to the acid used on your sister," Kelvin started.
"What do you mean by that?" Dr. Van Allen asked. Anger was beginning to rise in his voice.
Before Kelvin could answer, someone knocked on the door.
"Come in," Dr. Van Allen said. One of his assistants opened the door and slipped into the room.
"Forgive me for bothering you, but we seem to be having trouble with some of the equipment," the assistant, Brugge, said quickly.
"What now?" Dr. Van Allen asked as he followed Brugge out the door. "I shall be a few minutes, Mr. Kelvin. Please make yourself comfortable."
Taking his opportunity, Kelvin looked around the tiny office for any evidence that would connect the scientist with the murder. A quick search of the desk in the center of the room turned up nothing. He then opened the drawers of the filing cabinet. Flipping quickly through the papers, Kelvin came across an interesting document. It read: "The Bank of London is closing your account for insufficient funds."
Kelvin quickly put the document in his pocket and continued searching.
Another document he found read: "Scientist Suspect of Lab Fire. Dr. Van Allen has become the subject of arson investigations. Because he is under suspicion, he will not be receiving any insurance money for the damages."
This Kelvin also pocketed. He was about to resume his seat when he noticed a shabby wastebasket sticking out from under the desk. He pulled it out and glanced through it. One thing caught his attention. He pulled a shredded, folded paper from the wastebasket. It looked like a train ticket. Not wanting to be caught snooping, Kelvin hid the ticket in his jacket before he could examine it further. He took his seat in front of the desk just seconds before Dr. Van Allen came back into the office.
"My assistants seemed to be having some trouble with their experiment. They're doing titrations and apparently some acid used in the lab spilled over a triple-beam balance and other instruments," he said.
"What acid are they using? Hydrochloric?" Kelvin asked.
"Yes, as a matter of fact. You use the acid to do titrations," Dr. Van Allen replied. There was a long silence between the two.
"Well, I really must be going," Kelvin said, standing up and breaking the silence. "Thank you for giving me some of your time."
With that, he left the building.
Dr. Van Allen was left alone in the room. He looked around it and noticed the wastebasket that Kelvin forgot to move back. The doctor dropped to his knees and rifled through the trash. A look of fear passed over his face as he realized what had happened.
Meanwhile Millikan was visiting the elder Mr. Van Allen.
"My daughter's death has been quite devastating," he said as he talked to Millikan. They were sitting in the parlor of Mr. Van Allen's small house.
"Forgive me for asking," Millikan started, "but how did it come that you're daughter lived in luxury, but the rest of you do not?"
"My father-in-law left everything to her. I always considered him to be a little crazy in the head. And Lillian didn't give any of us a single cent. But she was still my daughter and to be stabbed and poisoned is horrid," Mr. Van Allen said.
"She was also smothered. Didn't your other children tell you that?" Millikan asked.
"Smothered! I didn't know that she was smothered too! My children told me that she was poisoned and stabbed," he exclaimed.
"The Coroner found traces of a fabric matching her pillow in the back of her throat. Also, her pupils were dilated and her airways were collapsed," Millikan told him.
"Oh, my God. That's horrible," Mr. Van Allen exclaimed. He put his hand to his face and then flinched.
"Is there anything wrong with your hand?" Millikan asked him.
"I cut it, that's all," Mr. Van Allen replied.
"I can bandage it for you right now," Millikan said. "I have my supplies with me."
"That's fine with me," was the reply.
As Millikan was bandaging the cut, he noticed a few fibers extending from the wound. He took a pair of tweezers, removed the fibers, and placed them into a container.
When he had completed his work, he left the house and returned to 226 Copper Street. Kelvin was already waiting for him.
"What have you found out, Millikan?' Kelvin asked.
"Mr. Van Allen seemed to have no knowledge of his daughter being smothered," Millikan said. "But I did find these fibers in a cut in his hand."
He pulled out the case containing the evidence and handed it to Kelvin.
"Millikan," Kelvin said. "Gather the relatives and the Captain of Police. I've solved the murder."
* * * * * * * * *
"Can we get on with this?" Mrs. Beaker asked as the relatives sat in Kelvin's parlor.
"I'm sure you all are wondering who the murderer is, considering all of you played a part in it," Kelvin said.
The family started gasping and sputtering.
"Mr. Van Allen, you smothered your daughter. Millikan found fibers from the pillow in your hand."
"Next, Dr. Van Allen entered the bedroom. You thought she was drunk because there was a half empty bottle of wine on the bed stand. You gave her a shot of hydrochloric acid between her toes. You didn't think anyone would find the puncture spot. Also, you trashed your train ticket, hoping no one would ever notice that you weren't on that train to Paris on Friday night."
"Finally, you, Mrs. Beaker entered the bedroom. You thought your sister was asleep. You quickly stabbed her with a knife taken from the kitchen. When you were cleaning off the handle, a bit of rust, caused by oxidation, got on your handkerchief."
"To finish, all of you did these acts for the money," Kelvin concluded.
The relatives were silent as the Captain of Police called in his men and led them off.
"Captain," Kelvin said, "I solved the murder, but it is up to you and the courts to decide whether to charge them all with murder or with attempted manslaughter.
Once everyone had left, Millikan and Kelvin sat back down.
"Well, you've done it again, Kelvin," Millikan said.
"Millikan," Kelvin said.
"Yes?"
"Get the door. We're about to have a visitor."