‘So, suicide’? The Inspector asked.
‘But where is the glass? If it was suicide he would have at least…’.
‘The glass on the desk’! The Inspector interjected.
‘No. There were no burn marks on the desk or rug. An acid would have marked the desk - especially the leather’. The doctor turned back to the body and continued his examination. ‘Besides, even if it was a small amount, he would have tasted it’. He looked again at the face. He took out his torch and shone it by the lips and into the slightly open mouth. ‘It does look like there is some blood in the mouth’.
‘Had he been drinking coffee’? Johnson asked.
‘Not that I am aware and I didn’t see a coffee cup’. He turned to The Inspector ‘Why do you ask’?
‘On the floor’. Johnson pointed to what appeared to be ground coffee.
Doctor Jacobs looked at what Inspector Johnson was talking about. He knelt down and after briefly examining it he took a small container from his pocket and with a small penknife he scraped a small amount and sealed it up. He had a thought and then passed the container to The Inspector. ‘We should get that examined as quickly as possible’. He stood up and looked at a small amount of blood on the shirt of the body. He unbuttoned the shirt a little and examined the injury. ’Stab wound’, he looked closer, ’but not a massive amount of blood. I’m pretty sure this wouldn’t have been the cause of death, in actual fact, with how little blood there is…’ His words drifted off into thoughts. He looked into the bin near the desk and noted that it contained a cotton bud and a hypodermic syringe. He had a look over the body but could find no obvious signs of an injection point.
The Doctor stood up and stretched and then looked around the room. For some reason, the curtain on the floor in the corner seemed to really stand out of place. He walked over to it. ’Why was this ripped off the hooks’? He leant down to it and examined the material. ’Strange’, he whispered to himself. ’it feels damp’. He stood up and looked at Johnson. ’Everything here is a puzzle’.
‘What about the typewriter’? Inspector Johnson was by the machine, ‘is there anything’?
‘There is a note’, he looked down. ‘It says it had to be and is signed B’
‘B’?
‘Suicide note’? The Inspector was thinking.
‘I certainly think it is meant to appear as a suicide note’.
‘B for Bob’?
‘Or B for Bobby or B for Barbara’ the doctor suggested.
‘Or B for Bobbi - you remember Barbara called Roberta that’!
It’s all confusing…wait’. He looked at the note and could see that it was typed on the back of an official letter. He pulled it out of the rollers and examined it. It was a letter for an appointment for Robert Blackmore to a medical professional in Harley Street and more specifically it held a time and date for an appointment to discuss his ongoing condition and current results. It also confirmed a date for his next treatment session and what would be his next course of chemotherapy. Doctor Jacobs looked up from the letter and spoke:
‘I think Robert Blackmore had cancer’!
#
9. The Gun, The Cigarette and The Basement.
To the side of the perfume bottle there was a polished hand-gun. It was a Smith and Western 686 with a six inch barrel and it was a six shot double action revolver which would fire .38 cartridges. It was a powerful handgun that would do severe damage. If this gun had been fired in the house somebody would have heard it. It was in no way a quiet weapon but in answer to potential thoughts, Bob had not been shot. On the other hand the gun was heavy and certainly could be used to easily bludgeon a person with.
Doctor Jacobs took out his handkerchief again and examined the gun. He opened the chamber and could see that there were still six unfired bullets inside.
‘Fully loaded, if this was fired it must have been reloaded’. ‘Besides, there is no gunshot wound on the body’.
‘If this was fired somebody would have heard the sound’ said the Inspector.
Doctor Jacobs nodded in agreement. He checked the barrel and the handle but could see no blood or hair.
‘I can’t see that this was used to hit him, let alone shoot him’. He passed the gun to Inspector Johnson and added ‘another blind to confuse us’.
Inspector Johnson gave the gun his attention before returning it to the table and both men looked down at the ashtray with the cigarette inside.
The cigarette was actually an ‘electronic’ cigarette which acted as a personal vaporiser for a liquid solution. It had been designed to look like a standard tobacco cigarette and the cigarette itself was formed of three basic components - the cartridge, an atomiser and the battery. The cartridge acted as an equivalent to approximately forty cigarette’s.
Doctor Jacobs leant down and looked at the cigarette. He took a pair of tweezers from the inside of his pocket and transferred it from the side of the ashtray to his handkerchief.
‘A lot of people use these - they think that they are somehow healthier than regular cigarette’s’
‘And they are not’? said the Inspector.
‘Well, the health aspects of inhaling a nicotine vapour into your lungs is still uncertain over the long-term’.
‘So why use them’?
‘Well, they don’t produce toxic smoke - a main cause of lung disease and cancer’ he looked at Johnson. ‘Nothing to burn, so no bi-product to inhale. The only toxin inhaled is nicotine’.
‘And that’s better for you’?
‘As I said, it’s under debate’.
The Inspector looked at the cigarette and then at the Doctor. ‘Could you poison somebody with it’?
‘Possible, but the laboratory would need to test it’.
He put the cigarette back into the ashtray and gave some thought as to what had been said.
Doctor Jacobs looked at Inspector Johnson, ‘well, what next’?
‘The laboratory’?
‘The chemical cabinet in the basement’?
‘Yes, I think we need to see what is kept down there’.
The two men left the study and locked the door behind them. Constable Peters accompanied them along the corridor. There was a padlock on the door but it was already open.
‘Strange security to keep a door like this open‘.
They opened the door and were aware of a little smoke and a strong chemical smell. Inspector Johnson touched the light switch, but no light came on, ‘nothing’.
Doctor Jacobs pulled out his torch and shone the strong beam down the stairs and onto the floor below. ‘glass everywhere. Somebody has smashed the cabinet and spilled out all the contents’. He looked around ‘Can’t go down it’s too dangerous without lights and breathing apparatus‘. He could smell the acrid fumes of chemicals. ’The best we can do at the moment would be to put a secure padlock on the door so nobody else can come down’.
He turned and as the beam touched the wall he noticed a bloody smear. A partial handprint. As he looked at the handle on the door he was aware of some blood on that too.
‘Somebody has cut themselves’.
The men left the top of the basement and instructed Constable Peters to secure the door. As they were turning, a man came down the stairs:
‘Good Morning gentlemen. May I introduce myself? I am Bobby Blackmore’.
Inspector Johnson spoke, ‘Mr Blackmore. I think we need to have a chat’.
#
10. His Brother
…four hours earlier.
Bobby was not in bed, he was outside and carrying a sledgehammer whilst panting in a cold sweat. ‘That should do it’ he thought to himself. ‘It can’t be ignored now, I’m fed up of being ignored’. He walked through the snow whilst it crunched beneath his feet. Just before he reached the door to the house he looked up and stopped. ‘What was that’? he thought ‘ was somebody watching him’? he looked through the snow and into the air. Nothing. His senses were obviously too worked up. Inside he took off h
is boots and coat and listened carefully. It was quiet. He could see a light shining underneath Bob’s study door, but there was no other light that he could see. Everybody else must be in bed. Had it been Bob watching him? Did he know what he had done? - he wouldn’t be happy. He looked again at the study door and considered his actions and what should be done next.
By the time he had gotten up to his bedroom and had changed out of his wet clothing he thought that nothing would matter. By the morning it would be too late to change what he had already done. He reached across to his bedside table where he opened the draw and took out the book that he had been reading -‘A History of The Kings And Queens of England’. Closing the draw, it was not commented that for the last month he had also kept something else in the draw with this book. A gun. In fact, a highly polished hand-gun and at this point two things should be noted as interesting. Firstly, the gun was NOT in this draw any longer and secondly the aforementioned gun WAS now on a desk in the study below.
Bobby Blackmore had been the younger brother of Robert Blackmore until the latter’s death. He really did not want to sit and speak to Inspector Jacobs about what he had been doing last night. At heart Bobby had always been recalcitrant and this had manifested all throughout his days at boarding-school. Now because you know that he had a dislike to authority you could easily begin to suspect that he was a ‘nasty piece of work’ and possibly the black sheep of the family. You might even choose to think that he killed his brother.
He sat in front of Inspector Johnson and Doctor Jacobs and smoked a cigarette that he had lit. He offered them one and they both politely declined.
‘Sorry for you loss Mr Blackmore…’
‘Bobby, please…’
‘but we have a few questions to ask’ the inspector finished.
Bobby Blackmore waited attentively.
‘Can you tell me a little about your Brother’?
‘He worked extremely hard’.
‘He was a chemist I believe’?
‘Yes. He had studied it at University’.
‘And yourself? You liked science too’?
The man looked surprised ‘oh no, I am not an academic. My pursuits are more base. More… of the flesh if you know what I mean’. He looked at the men and continued. ’Barbara was gifted like that. She loves chemistry and they often worked together, Barbara is, sorry… was, an equal to Bob when it came to chemistry’.
‘But it was your brother that had success in the field’?
‘Well, yes… but…’. He paused and continued ‘…it was a sore point’. Bobby Blackmore walked over to the fireplace and lit another cigarette. Inspector Johnson turned a page in his notebook.
‘Did you notice anything of interest yesterday’?
‘Well, Roberta and Bob had an argument’?
‘What about’?
‘Not sure, probably about how he felt the cooking had gone downhill lately. I just heard their raised voices as I walked through the corridor. The reason it sticks in my mind is that they never argued. Disagreements, yes, but never a full raised voice heated argument’.
‘And what about yourself’?
‘What do you mean’?
‘Can you account for your whereabouts yesterday evening’?
‘Oh yes, after dinner, at around seven, I had a knock around on the snooker table - getting some practise in, you know’. He looked at the two men, ’and then later on I went for a little walk outside for a little night air’.
‘At what time was that’?
‘Oh, it can’t have been much later than ten o’clock’.
‘And did you see anybody outside’?
‘In that weather? No I didn’t - I think that only snowmen or madmen would be out in that’! he laughed.
‘Snowmen, madmen and yourself’ the Inspector said.
Doctor Jacobs looked at Bobby Blackmore and spoke, ‘when was the last time you saw your brother’?
‘It must have been eleven-ish. I put my head in the study door and said goodnight. He must not have heard me and as he appeared to be working, I did not want to disturb him’. He looked at the two men. ‘I found out this morning, at about seven o’clock that they had discovered his body’. He seemed to have a thought then looked at the two men, ‘You don’t think he was dead when I put my head in the door’?
Inspector Johnson looked at Bobby Blackmore and spoke, ‘I’m not at liberty to tell you what I’m thinking at present’. He looked at the doctor. ‘I think that will be all for now, we may need to speak to you later’. Bobby walked out of the room.
Once the interview had concluded and the man had left the room the two men thought over what had been discussed. It was at this point that Anna the housemaid knocked on the door and put her head in the room.
‘If you please, Mr Bran, Mr Blackmore’s solicitor is here to see the family. Would you like a word with him before he speaks to them’?
Inspector Johnson answered in the affirmative.
#
11. Mr Bran, The Solicitor Man
Inspector Josephs and Doctor Jacobs were seated in the sitting-room when Anna returned and knocked on the door.
‘Mr Bran, Sirs’ she curtsied and left the room as a short bald-headed man entered the room.
‘Mr Bran, I am Inspector Johnson and this is Doctor Jacobs’. The short man nodded ‘I believe you were Mr Robert Blackmore’s solicitor’?
‘I was’. The man was a professional. Brief and to the point.
‘Had Mr Blackmore gotten a will in place’?
‘Indeed he had’ answered the solicitor.
‘And could you please give us an idea as to how it would work out for his family’?
‘Well, I was going to read the will to them later so I do not see that it would cause much harm’ he looked at the two men. ‘His wife, Roberta Blackmore would get the bulk of his estate, the house, land and money to the approximate value of nine hundred thousand pounds’.
The inspector and the doctor looked at each other as the solicitor continued.
‘Mr Bobby Blackmore would receive a one off payment of four hundred thousand pounds. His sister, Barbara Blackmore, would receive a payment of seven hundred thousand pounds and an additional payment from the estate of fifty thousand pounds each year forward. She was also to be given a small unsealed note. I have looked at the note and it simply says ‘for all of your help’, apart from that there is nothing else.
‘Thank you Mr Bran, if you need to see the family now we will allow you to get on with your business’.
When the solicitor had left the room, the inspector looked at the doctor and said ‘they all got plenty of money out of Robert Blackmore’s death’ he looked at Doctor Jacobs ‘they all had significant motive’!
He looked at the window.
‘I think we should have a look outside, I could do with a little air’.
#
12. A Walk In The Garden
Inspector Johnson and Doctor Jacobs put on their heavy overcoats and went outside via the doors to the French windows in the study. They were accompanied by Constable Peters who had locked the oak study doors from the inside and put the key into his pocket. They intended to examine the immediate surroundings but it had started to snow again and it was extremely cold. There would be no possible footprints. At the patio they stood looking in the window but nothing seemed to be out of the ordinary. Looking up, Doctor Jacobs admired the picture post-card look of the scene, a snow covered house with icicles. He looked up quizzically:
‘Look how there is a gap in those large icicles’.
Inspector Johnson looked up ’Why?, what would you do with an icicle that size’?
‘You could stab somebody’ Constable Peters added and the two elder men looked at the young constable.
‘Not really feasible’ said the Inspector.
‘It would be more the shape of the wound than the knife’ said The Doctor.
‘But there would be a pool of water’?
‘The curtain’.
Doctor Jacobs said the words as he suddenly thought. ’It could explain why the curtain had been pulled down and was damp - to hide a melting icicle’?
‘But why? Aren’t we pretty sure that the cause of death was not by a stab wound’?
‘Everywhere we look seems to point to something else’.
‘Somebody is trying to be too clever’.
‘Somebody seems to be succeeding’.
The three men remained there for a little while in conversation and then they walked across the garden to the garage and the greenhouse.
The garage itself was vast and housed three cars all covered with sheets presumably to protect them from the icy weather should it breach the outer defences of the garage itself. There were a number of shelves in there containing items such as antifreeze, car oil and metal cleaners. This aside, the garage did not seem to be able to give them any further help in their investigation.