Detective Smith and the Lawyer
You yawn a huge yawn. You’re absolutely tired after a long night of work. The day never ends for Detective Smith, does it? After about two hours of sleep, you’re at Mr. Bennett, your lawyer’s office, since you’ve got some funny business going on financially. He was a great lawyer and his British accent made everybody calmer. This was not to mention his brilliancy at organization; unless someone knew his formula they'd think he was crazy. The waiting room is almost full, which surprises you considering the time.
A few hours later, you wake up. You look around and quickly stretch, checking the time. Surprisingly, it’s only 8:30 and only a few people have actually left the waiting room in the hour and a half that you’d been out. You settle back down comfortably, but before you can even drift off you hear an ear-piercing scream. Suddenly a young girl, your lawyer’s new assistant, Lucy, bursts into the room.
“Mr. Bennett! Mr Bennett's done himself in!” she manages to cry before falling to the floor in a dead faint. Everyone in the room is shocked, but you jump up.
“Everyone stay calm,” you say seriously, “I’m a police officer, and I’m going in to check it out.”
Saying that, you walk through the door leading to the lawyer’s office. You walk down the hallway, open the door, and a horrific sight appears in front of you.
You pull out your cell phone and dial 911.
“Yes, my name is Detective Smith. We’ve got a homicide on our hands.”
Captain Jones meets you at the crime scene.
“Smith, old friend! You called in homicide, but everything says suicide to me. Here, look at cause of death; broken neck from hanging. Suicide note written on a memo. Clearly he hung himself. What made you call in Homicide?”
“The note, Captain,” you say, smiling patiently, “the note’s wrong.”
Jones looks surprised. “What makes you say that, Smith? Note’s crystal clear. Here, look.” He pointed at the memo sheet. The note reads:
“I cannot take the pain any more. You all think I am good and aboveboard, but it’s time to show my true colors."
Once again, you smile patiently.
"Absolutely right, captain. Do you know Mr. Bennett's nationality?"
"Well, yes, of course! He was an Englishman through and through."
"Exactly, captain. Tell me; how do you spell behavoir?"
"B-E-H-A-V-I-O-R." The captain replies, exasperated.
"Good, captain. Now, the English spell it B-E-H-A-V-I-O-U-R. Now how do you spell colors?"
"C-O-..." Jones pauses, a look of comprehension dawning on his face. "Of course. Bennett would have spelled it with a U. But the note didn't."
Suddenly he stands up straight and turn around.
"Alright, everybody listen up," he yells, "this is a murder scene. Lock up the place, put up tape and call in Forensics."
You tap him on the shoulder. "Captain," you say cautiously, "maybe we should check out anybody who may have been in the office at any time this morning."
"Good idea, Smith. I'll gather up everybody."
"And, sir, when you're done I'd like to use the office to conduct some interviews with the people."
"As you wish, Smith. Oh, if you want to talk with the girl, Lucy, I can bring her in. She woke up a while ago. Says she was worried about the old guy and unlocked the door at around 8:45. She looks up, recognition hits, she runs out the door. Seems cut and dry to me."
A few hours later you're sitting in the lawyer's seat, studying the room. Lucy the assisstant is sitting nearby.
Jones walks in and takes a seat. Got 'em for you, Smith. They're all outside in the watiiting room. Their--er, what's she doing here?" He asked, clearly about Lucy.
"She's here to corroborate anybody's story. Of anyone here, she'll know if a story doesn't ring true."
"Well, sir," she said timidly, "Mr. Bennett never really let me into his office, and I've only been here a week, so I don't know how much a help I can be."
You don't have a chance to reply as a large, stalwart-looking woman busts through the door. "Murder? And you suspect me!?"
Jones sighs. "Detective Smith, meet Miss Margaret Lamar."
Miss Lamar sat down forcefully, and you tell her courteously:
"Ma'am, it's all routine. You were Mr. Bennett's first client of the day?"
"Correct. But the old fool didn't even open the door for me! I waited and waited and he never came out!"
You look towards Lucy.
"Same with me, sir. I assumed he had been, well, sleeping off a few drinks."
You nod. Bennett certainly wasn't what you would call a teetotaller.
"Well," continued Miss Lamar, "I tried a back door that Mr. Bennett usually kept locked, but to my surprise it was unlocked. I began to open the door when I realized how rude of me it might be to walk in on him. I promptly left, leaving a complaint with the girl here on my way out."
You thank her and Jones escorts her out.
The Captain comes back a few minutes later in with a young, handsome man of twenty-odd.
"Detective Smith, meet Mr. Shane Samuelson," Jones says gruffly, "A teacher at the local high school."
Samuelson smiles affably. "Thank you, Captain. Detective, I hear there's been a murder, is that right?"
"Quite right." you reply, pleased by the man's friendliness, "Mr. Samuelson, you were Mr. Bennet's 7:45 appointment?"
"Mr. Samuelson, according to the file, you and Mr. Bennett had, shall we say, a disagreement recently?"
"Yes, sir. Mr. Bennett had handles some taxes of mine rather badly. Sir, you don't honestly think that--"
You cut him off. "Mr. Samuelson, I suspect everyone, possible motive or not. Now, then, tell me what happened this morning."
"Well, Detective, I arrived early, knowing Mr. Bennett's crowds. I waited for my name to be called, but it didn't. Being suspicious that he was avoiding me, I, well, when Miss Lucy wasn't looking I ducked bahind the desk and went into the workroom. The room has an air vent that looks into Mr. Bennett's office. I noticed it when he tried to print my credit report. So, I stood on a copy machine," (Jones leaves the room, presumably to check it out), "anyway, I look in and see nothing but the front of the room."
"The front of the room," you say in surprise, "so, therefore you could not see his desk, or, consequentially, the body, if it was there."
"I suppose so, sir. I wouldn't know."
At this point Jones comes in and gives a quick nod, mouthing the word "footprint".
You stand up. "Thank you, Mr. Samuelson, that will be all for now."
When the boy leaves, Lucy speaks up. "Sir, it's true. I did leave the front desk once or twice, but it would be very hard for a man to get by the desk unnoticed."
You sit down, looking grim.
To Lucy, you ask: "Can I get Samuelson's file? I want to know all about the little 'disagreement'."
Lucy jumps up and opens a filing cabinet. A few seconds later she pulls out the file and hands it to you.
Looking over the file, you learn just how ugly the fight may have gotten. About $2000 had been lost due to some bad tax filing, plus the lawyer may have speculated with some of the boy's money.
Closing it, you turn to Jones. "Get the next one."
A minute later Jones comes in with a frightened-looking couple. "These are the O'Briens. Appointment number three, 8:15."
After seating them and calming them down, you begin.
"Mr. and Mrs. O'Brien, you were here for a lawsuit settlement.
"Quite right, sir. Dangerous problems with some shaving razors," the man says quietly.
"Mr. O'Brien," you say, deciding you'll get more out of him, " can you briefly tell us your actions this morning?"
Shakily, he begins. "Sir, what can I say. We came here to be advised. We sat in the waiting room, we waited. Mr. Bennett never actually opened his door, which frankly we found surprising."
"And...?" You ask, hoping to spark something.
"And what?" Mr. O'Brien exclaims. "We waited and waited and the girl ran out screaming. That's all I know."
"Sir, can anyone prove that you sat and waited?"
"N-no sir. At least, I don't think so. Everyone was rather groggy this morning."
"Thanks, Mr. O'Brien. Lucy, please escort them out, if you don't mind."
The three of them went out. Private Benson strides back in.
"Got all that, Benson?" asked Jones.
"Clear as day, sir." the Private replies.
"Great," you say, yawning, "I'll just go home now and take a well-earned rest. Call me if you need me. Please don't need me."
"Wait!" Jones cries, "Who is it?"
You yawn once more for effect.
"I can't be 100%, but I definitely know our main suspect."
"Who?!" says Benson frantically.
You smile cryptically. "Isn't it obvious?"
I guess the question is; who?
Edited by Aaryan, 13 June 2012 - 10:35 PM.