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There is something funny about the phrase “as dead as a doornail.” Why? Because I am dead and I don’t look like a nail of any sort. I lie on my living room carpet, hands stretched out, the knife stuck to my back...such a backstabber. I hated them all my life! And what is the purpose of killing me? It is not like I would have lived much longer, I was eighty-five, for God’s sake! I lay here, the blood turning thick as I stared at the painting on the wall. It is such a hideous painting. I bought it for so much money, I was duped. I am waiting for the morning when my caregiver arrives to discover me on the floor. But I feel they are still around, looking for something. Searching every room.
It is around 7 AM that she rings the bell. She bangs the door. She yells out, “Mr Smith!” Oh no, she is going back. Come back here, you fool! The criminal must still be upstairs. I hear them come down the wooden staircase and exit from the back door. Now the useless caregiver lady is back. Oh, she called the police, I see. Too late, the culprit is gone. They broke my window trying to get in. Who do you think will pay for that, young man? My useless son or rebellious granddaughter?
Oh no, don’t scream! Souls are far more sensitive than humans. As a human, I was short of hearing, as a soul, her scream made me want to run away, but I would not, unless they found my killer. Oh, the cops are picking me up now, got to go. It's a Sunday, so they discuss work on the case won’t start till the Coroner examines me on Monday. Let me hand over the narration to someone else to tell you the story. I would be busy for a while.
Monday mornings ruin the mood. Although technically my job has no set working days or hours, and I can take a vacation on Monday, it still feels gloomy. It's weird how we are routinely accustomed to things from childhood.
I walked out of my house without an umbrella today. Turning the corner around the block, I cursed myself for it started raining. London weather, I tell you. I hugged my coat closer to feel less chilly as I walked into the cafe and ordered a Latte to go.
“Name, please, sir?” The woman at the counter asked, holding up the marker. I grunted inwardly. No matter how often I tell them, they never get my name right, so what is the use?
“Ved.” I shortened the name, hoping she would get it right. She poured the steaming brew and handed me the cup. “Vad,” it said. What a start to the day! That was when my phone rang with the police commissioner's number. I flipped it open and answered eagerly.
“There has been a murder at Highgate.” He said in a gruff voice. “I will send you the address.”
“Anyone famous?” I was eager. Either that or the media was on to him; otherwise, he would detest calling a private investigator on board.
“He was an author.” The phone pinged with the address.
Let me introduce myself to you, who read this. I am a private investigator, Vedang, who helps the London Police catch criminals from time to time. Solving crime has been my choice of career ever since I started reading Feluda, Sherlock and Bomkyesh, the Bengali Boy’s guides to crime detection. I was twenty-three when I had my first case in Kolkata. After a few years, I shifted here. Londoners give more respect to their PIs for sure. So I am settled here, in Fulham, in a single-room apartment. The perks of being a self-employed man are that I can do things at my own pace and rule, but the bad part of it is that I have no routine. I wake up when I want to, and barely sleep when there is an unsolved crime on my desk. My aspiration? That someday I would be immortalised like dear old Kiriti or the Famous Five in books.
I hailed a taxi that took me there. The media outside answered my question as to how famous the author was (I tried googling, but I must admit I’m not much of a reader like you). The media are like houseflies on filth. They smell dirt from afar and flock together to hound the life out of healthy people. They do the same to the police. I could spot the commissioner from behind the barricade and waved at him. He called me inside, and I stepped into the Highgate address of Mr Steven Smith.
“Good Morning, Ved. This is Officer Miller. He is presiding over the investigation.” The commissioner introduced me to a middle-aged British man with a moustache that reminded me of the ones with whips in water-coloured portraits, who once ruled over us.
“Vedang Sen.” I shook his hand. He looked a little stumped and unsure of the pronunciation. “Ved will be fine.” I forced a smile. Living away from home could have a lot of perks, but one of the most annoying things was the mere struggle of telling them your name.
“He is a reputed private investigator from Calcutta who has now settled here. He previously helped me with a murder case and…”
“Kolkata.” I corrected the Commissioner subtly before stepping on the other side of the yellow-taped crime scene. "It's Kolkata now."
“The old man was lying on the floor face down here.” Officer Miller showed me some crime scene photos. The outline of the body was marked in chalk. I could see he was face down, arms stretched in the middle of the living room. “No forced entry.”
The photos showed him lying on the floor, eyes open as if he were staring at the painting on the wall. I looked closer at the victim. Brown hair, blue eyes. His fair skin is almost deprived of melanin, unlike my brown one. I stood up and walked around the place a little. Perhaps I was wearing a frown. Some of the white police officers stared at me first with a little disapproving glance. I don’t blame them. It is not often that they see their bosses call upon an Asian man from a country they once colonised to solve their crimes. But let me tell you this, before a Sherlock, there was always a real-life Daroga Priyonath solving serial killing cases in the streets of Calcutta. Maybe they don’t know that, but you should. Ah well, where was I? Yes, the windows were all shut, curtains closed. I used my gloves to bring it closer to my nose and smell it. No smell of cigars or perfumes, just a dead body. I eyed the sink; the utensils were for one person’s dinner. Nothing to give the killer away.
“The back door was open in the morning. It seems like the killer took his own sweet time.”
“Someone he knew?” I immediately deduced. Miller shrugged. “That is a possibility.” I went to check the locks myself to make sure they did not miss something. The front door was bolted shut till the police opened it after breaking the window adjacent to it. The back door was wide open, so assuming the perpetrator escaped from there, the Canine unit was called, and the dogs lost the scent as soon as they crossed the hedges of the house.
“Probably had a car standing there,” Miller spoke.
“So there can be more than one perpetrator?” I deduced again.
“We have made a list of family and friends.” He invited me to go with him to interview them.
“His son Robert has a business on Wall Street; he’s flying here as we speak.”
“So his family is in the US and he is here?”
“No, his daughter-in-law lives on Mayfair Road with his granddaughter, but is currently in the hospital after ankle surgery. Miss Ashley is an athlete.”
“Famous?” I asked curiously.
“Ever heard of Ashley Mongomery?” He asked.
“The famous sprinter?” I raised my brows ‘But Montgomery…”
“Her father disapproves of her sport, so she changed her last name for the games. Won’t make him famous, she says.”
“Well…”It was odd that someone ran away, and we have a sprinter here. “Let's start with her.”
“Yes, I also made contact with his lawyer, accountant, housekeeper and caregiver. He had a few friends he played poker with every Saturday.” Miller read out his list.
“So they saw him last Saturday?” I asked, narrowing my brows.
“Yes, just the day before the attack. Estimated time of death as set by the coroner is between 10 PM and 2 AM”
“What was the old man doing, awake?” I was curious. It was unusual for old people to be awake at that time. I checked the kitchen. No sign of alcohol, smoke or coffee. I opened the door to his study room and peeped in. The typewriter sat in the middle of his desk. It was a Hermes 3000. But no pages were tucked in. A few half-written pages sat beside it. I tried to read a few lines. It looked like he was writing an autobiography. I picked it up with the police’s permission. Did he badmouth someone enough in his new book to be killed for it? There were pictures of his family on the desk. His wife, his son and his family, and he with his granddaughter. I observed them for a while, then placed the frames down. The Smith family seemed quite formal in their portraits.
I walked upstairs through the wooden staircase, imagining if the killer would have done that. For them to go upstairs, they had to be familiar with the place, looking for something. Everything seemed to be in order. Burglary was ruled out. It had to be anyway because there was no way an old man like him would be killed by a burglar.
Beside the master bedroom on the upper floor was the laundry room. I peeped in for a look, a little disinterested. There were clothes in the basket, and I suddenly noticed some washing powder over them. That was odd. Who would sprinkle washing powder on the clothes in the basket? I looked up at the cupboard racks. There were no half-used packets of washing powder. The two kept there were brand new. The container was empty.
“That is odd,” Miller spoke my mind. “Why would someone kill for washing powder?”
“Get the powder tested,” I suggested. “It does smell like regular powder, though.”
“Let's start interrogation with the poker club,” Miller suggested.
The average age of the five members who played at his table last Saturday was eighty-three. Most of them could not even hear properly.
“He looked quite normal.” The first one said. “As normal as we look at this age.”
“He came with that caregiver.” The second one whispered. “I never liked her.”
“Why?” I leaned in, hoping for some lead.
“She forces him to have medicines, that’s why.” He shook his head.
“He was planning his granddaughter’s birthday party.” The third one said, “In a yacht”
“They were close?”
“Pretty close. She visited him every weekend.”
“Did she come this Saturday or Sunday?” I was keen. He could not tell. But what his friend added was that Mr Smith did not get along well with his son. His son was a businessman, but he was not doing well. He had taken two loans from his father and promised to pay them back, but the money often led to heated arguments between them. So much so that he stopped visiting altogether. I noted it down.
“Anyone else?” I asked. “Did he talk about being followed or … being scared?”
“He is scared of the darkness.” Number one said abruptly.
I found it best to take their leave.
By the time I circled back to the crime scene, Miss Ashley had arrived from the hospital, where her mother was, along with the housekeeper and caregiver. She had blonde hair, brown eyes and was tall and athletic in build. She wore a fitness watch on her right hand, and her hair was done up in braids. Her loose t-shirt and jeans seemed to align with the kind of clothes people in their early twenties wear. She seemed inconsolable as the housekeeper soothed her.
“I swear if I had known…”
“Did you visit him this weekend, Miss Montgomery?” I asked. I couldn’t help but notice she had taken after her mother more than her father. She did not have the Smith family's brown hair or hazel-blue eyes.
“I wish I did. I was so busy with my mother’s hospitalisation… Oh, I wish…” She sobbed. The Housekeeper handed her a napkin.
“Please, Mr Policeman…” The woman interrupted.
“I am a detective.” I corrected her. “I am not the police.”
“Don’t harass her. She is distraught.” She did not care who I was, but of course, for the mistress.
“I have no will to harass her, but I have to do my job,” I replied coldly.
“It is okay.” Ashley sobbed. “Why would someone do this to him?”
“That is what we will find out,” I called the housekeeper in while Miller took the caregiver’s statement. She was an immigrant woman in her fifties. She said she cooked his dinner and left around eight, just like she always did. Mr Smith was watching the news in his armchair as usual when she placed his supper and left. He neither drank nor smoked and stayed up only till 9.30. Miller suggested we should look into his phone records. Find out if someone called him, inviting themselves, making sure that he stayed up.
The Housekeeper followed me upstairs. She was a plump woman in her fifties and had a way of neatness around her. “Look around, check if something is missing,” I suggested. She went into the master bedroom first. She looked around keenly and pointed at a corner, “There was a horse there.”
“You mean this one?” I picked it up from the lower shelf.
“Yes. But it was there…” She pointed again. “Or were there two?" She looked confused. "Well, we found only one," I told her. She admitted that Mr Smith did not let her touch his showpieces because the previous housekeeper broke an expensive sculpture he had brought from Italy. So she might have been wrong. But if the horse was misplaced, that meant the killer did look around the bedroom, but kept everything back carefully. They took the risk and took their time confidently. Either they knew nobody would disturb them, or they were comfortable around here. So much so that they knew they could give an excuse when caught. I walked up to the curtains and smelled them again. The bedroom curtains were drawn apart in Victorian style, unlike the living room. That was odd. Generally, when people had the habit of drawing their curtains, they would do so in their bedrooms first, then the common areas at night. I asked the officers to check the drawn curtain of the living room for a fingerprint. It must have been drawn by the perpetrator. I was looking for anything, a scent of cologne, cigarettes of a brand or even alcohol. Nothing. By this time, the housekeeper had moved to the laundry room while I observed the horse. Was it moved deliberately to throw us off, or did it have some meaning? Just a plain white porcelain horse standing on three legs.
“This is odd.” I heard the housekeeper speak as I walked in behind her. “There is washing powder missing.” She pointed at the empty rack.
“Did you do his laundry?” I asked without showing much interest. She shook her head. “Miss Montgomery insisted she did that.”
“Despite her busy schedule?” My brows shot up.
“She was guilty of leaving her grandfather because of her differences with her father. She wanted to make up for everything.” The housekeeper nodded. “She loves him a lot.”
As soon as we came downstairs, the housekeeper mentioned the missing washing powder in awe, and colour faded from Miss Montgomery’s face. I was about to ask her if she knew something when a Bentley Continental honked outside and a man in his fifties walked in. He was in a suit and tie as though he was going to a corporate meeting. He made all our clothes look shabby as he eyed us and then addressed Ashley, “Come with me, you are not answering them without a lawyer present.”
“But Dad, they are helping us out.” Ashley protested.
“Yes, and before you know it, they will accuse us of killing him.” He held his reluctant daughter’s hand as she protested again and took her away.
“For a man who just lost his father, he sure looks grief-stricken.” Miller smiled sarcastically. “We should summon him to the interrogation.”
“I think he will lawyer up and stay mum. Why not try Miss Montgomery again…”
“With him around…” Miller sounded doubtful “She won’t talk to uniformed officers.”
“Where can I find Ashley alone?” I asked as Miller handed me her schedule. Her practice sessions would be my next stop.
The Smith Lawyer, Mr Douglas, ran a firm Uptown. At first, when we took an appointment to see him, he thought we had arrived to threaten his clients with arrest. However, when we questioned him about Mr Smith’s will and testimony, he eased out and decided to help. Mr Smith was leaving everything to his granddaughter instead of his son.
“Why is that?” Miller asked.
“They did not quite get along, I guess. But you cannot use this to frame my client… he was in NYC.” Douglas stopped as Miller smiled and shook his head.
“I am not framing anyone. I am looking for a motive.”
“You and I both know what is the most powerful motive,” I added.
“Money and Revenge.” Miller quipped.
The Lawyer said it made no sense because even if he were dead, his son would not get a penny. He was right on that one.
The Accountant who took care of his books, however, had something interesting to say.
“Mr Smith had made a trust fund for Miss Montgomery when she was ten years old. She was supposed to get the money when she turned eighteen. But before she turned eighteen, her money was drained completely. It led to a fight between her and the family.”
“Who had access to the fund?” I enquired.
“Her parents and her grandfather. She accused everyone and stormed out on her eighteenth birthday. She had not lived with them since.”
“But now she's got everything back…”
“Well…” The accountant shook his head. He handed me the financial records.
“Turn to page six,” he pointed.
“Her grandfather took out the fund he made for her?” I raised my brows in shock. “Why?” The accountant shrugged. “I have no idea, but he did keep it all in a separate account under his name and …” he turned to the current statement, “He withdrew the same amount a few days ago, last Tuesday.” I stood up in shock. There were no rolls of money in the house. Where was the money?
One thing about being a detective that can creep you out is the fact that one has to be a stalker. I have been stalking Miss Montgomery since early morning and have yet to find a window of time when she is alone. I was sitting in my blue Mini Cooper, still waiting. It's almost lunchtime, and my stomach churned. Ah, my prayers seemed to be answered as she entered a McDonald's. I put my cap and glasses on and went in five minutes after her. She was across the eatery, with a friend perhaps. The man looked older than her, and it did not take much deduction to say he was an athlete, too. I ordered my takeaway and walked up to them.
“Miss Montgomery, can I ask you a few questions?” At first, she was startled, for she did not recognise me. I opened my glasses. The man with her seemed to be overprotective.
“Hey, are you a reporter? Leave her alone.”
“No, Jacob, he is with the police.” She stopped him with a hand gesture as I pulled a chair to sit down with them. They did not protest.
“Miss Montgomery, I want to ask a few unpleasant questions. Should we go somewhere private?”
“This is my coach, Jacob. You can say anything in front of him. He is like a brother to me. He and his wife took me in when I was …” She stopped.
“I heard about you walking out on your family,” I reassured. She sighed.
“They took away all my money. I am sure it was Dad; he gambled it away.” She looked frustrated.
“Was it true that you were close to your grandfather?” I enquired.
“Very close.” She said firmly, “he looked out for me.”
“So he did. Any idea what was done with the trust fund?”
“I told you, Officer, he gambled it. He left for New York soon after. My Dad…”
“I am not an officer.” I corrected her politely. “So now you are getting your Grandfather’s properties?” She looked irked.
“Are you implying something?” She was about to get up.
“I told you not to talk to them.” Jacob sneered. “They abuse the victims.”
“Stop.” I blocked her way. “I am not accusing you, Ashley. But I strongly believe you know something. And if you do, and if I am right, you hold the key to finding out who did this to your grandfather.” Ashley’s jaws tightened.
“I know nothing.” She said firmly and began to walk away.
“So there was no money in the house?” She stopped briefly at my words as Jacob appeared confused.
“I have no idea…”
“I think you do. And if you don’t help me out, I will put you up on the suspect list. You know by now I have enough reasons to.” I slipped her my card with my number on it, “Call me if you change your mind.” I was walking towards the car, determined to not look back at them, and give myself the power over their minds when my phone rang. It was Miller.
“The Washing powder has come clean. No fingerprints either. The killer must have used gloves. Also, you were right. There was a call made from a telephone booth down the street around 9.45 PM. It lasted 15 seconds.”
“Do we have any cameras around the area?” I asked as I got into the car.
“We do, but unfortunately, it is a blind spot. All we can see in the footage is a hooded figure. About 5’7’’. No skin colour, no determined gender.” He disconnected the call. I glanced over my shoulder at a distraught Ashley being soothed by Jacob. Both looked around the same height. I went back to the police station.
“So let's interrogate her.” Miller sounded excited. That is a good lead.” I shook my head.
“No. Let her come to us. If we give her an official summons, she will feel intimidated and lawyer up.” Miller was about to go on a rant that I was giving her too much leverage when my phone rang.
“Mr Sen?” The lady sounded unsure on the other end.
“Speaking…”
“This is Ashley. Can we talk?”
“Meet me at the coffee shop down the road from the station.” I picked up my keys and smiled victoriously at Miller. “Patience, you see.” I winked and left.
We were at the street-side seat of the cafe she had picked up as she began to talk.
“So…” She cleared her throat. “Jacob doesn’t know, so I…” I nodded and urged her to go on without pushing her much.
“Umm… the trust fund, it is true that my father was planning with his business partner, Mr Omair, to take it.”
“And?”
“My grandfather had quirky hobbies. He had a horse that recorded voices with a hidden device inside.” I straightened myself. “Was it porcelain?” She nodded.
“He had a pair, one with the device and another normal. He would replace them if he needed to record something." My mind raced. The Housekeeper saw one horse … where was the other?
“He found out using that about their plan and…”
“And he withdrew the fund, made you blame your dad?” I questioned. She nodded. “I was sixteen when it happened, we made a plan that I would storm out on my eighteenth birthday, blaming him, and my grandfather would find an excuse to throw him out.”
“Why did he need an excuse for…”
“Because of his gambling addiction and loans… he used to steal money from Grandpa too, and threatened to harm us if he did not indulge. Grandpa wanted some leverage over him.”
“Then?” I asked eagerly.
“Well, he was supposed to give the money back to me when I was training for the Olympics… but…” She bit her lips.
“But he did not.” I finished her sentence.
“I don’t blame him. For a brief while, I had fallen into the wrong company doing wrong things that eluded me away from my path until Grandpa found Jacob and told him to rescue me.”
“So he knew Jacob?” She nodded. “His brother worked as a stenographer for my grandfather once.”
“So, after you came to the right path, why did he not transfer you the promised money?”
“He fell sick and was under supervision.” Ashley bit her dry lips as she spoke. “Even when I visited him, he either had the caregiver around or the housekeeper. My father doubted it was a setup, so my grandpa thought everyone around him was his spy. The moment he changed his will, my dad knew.”
“Then what happened all of a sudden that he wanted to transfer the money?”
“He did not transfer it; he withdrew it. One morning, he called me and said he had a brilliant plan to fool my father and lose the trail of the money altogether.” She cleared her throat. “He said he would tell me all about it on Sunday.”
“The Sunday he was killed?” I raised my eyebrows.
She nodded. “You see, my mother had her ankle surgery on Friday, and I was there with her all weekend. So I couldn’t make it…” Something in her voice made me feel like she was unsure whether I would believe her. “Now the money is gone,” I murmured.
“Yes, but more than that, he was killed. Someone killed him.” Ashley was teary.
“Anyone else knew about the plan?” I enquired.
“I told my mother about the frame job after my father left for New York. She said she suspected it, but I did not tell her about the withdrawal.” That was all I needed to know. I thanked her and left.
I was barely home when my phone rang, “Ashley Montgomery had been attacked outside a cafe.” I was shocked.
I rushed to the crime scene to find Ashley being attended to by the Medical staff.
“What happened?” I asked Miller.
“The bullet grazed her.” He said with a shrug. “She is fine, and the CCTV caught the same hooded man, driving away in a white Beetle. We are now trying to see if we can spot the same Beetle down Mr Smith’s street that night.
“Now they have a gun,” I murmured. “This is getting dangerous. Put her under witness protection.”
“Witness?” He raised his brows, confused at me.
I took him aside and updated him.
“We should talk to the mother.” He said immediately, “She is at the hospital.”
Mrs May Smith looked just like her pictures, as if she had not aged. I heard from my mother once that the rich never age. Perhaps that joke holds here. She welcomed us with a smile and lamented how terrible she felt to not be able to move much, and all the organising of the funeral fell on her husband’s shoulders.
“How was your relationship with his father?” I eyed Miller, looking keenly at her operated foot as if to verify if it was real.
“Steven was a great man. He was a good father and grandfather. I was a fan of his writing when I met Robert. Little did I know he was Steven’s son. I am shocked that something…”
“You know he trapped your husband in the false accusation of stealing his daughter’s trust fund?” Her jaws tightened at my words.
“Well, I know that no legal action was taken. He simply moved.”
“Did you not feel angry about his treatment of your husband?”
“Not when he was looking out for my daughter.” She shook her head. “I would have done the same in his place. Robert with his gambling and…” The nurse interrupted her with a tray of medicines.
“Your sister is here for the night.” She informed.
We decided to take her leave. Miller walked out of the hospital and checked his email. The Autopsy report was here.
“That is odd.” He was thinking out loud.
“What is?” I narrowed my brows as he handed over the report.
“Blunt force trauma?” I asked. “But why stab him then?”
“Just to make sure.” Miller shrugged, “They also confirmed the knife came from his kitchen.”
“Was the murder not premeditated?” I wondered now.
“Could it be possible?” Miller sipped his afternoon tea and spoke from across the desk. “That the killer came for something else and when he refused…”
“Could be, but for that, we need evidence.”
“The trail of money…” Miller nodded. I jumped up as something hit me.
“She said wherever he went, the caregiver went with him, right?”
“So?”
“So we ask her where she had taken Mr Smith from the date of withdrawal to the day he died…”
“Will she remember…”
“We can try… if she knows something, she could also…”
“Blackmail?” He asked with a slight smile in the corner of his lips.
“Now we are at every possible angle. Money, Revenge, Blackmail, Burglary…” I shook my head and took my coat and umbrella. It was raining outside.
The Caregiver lived in the old immigrant’s lane. She was from Mexico, and her entire family lived in a one-room apartment on the street.
“Can we talk?” I asked as she shook her head.
“We already talked to the police.”
“I know that, Ma'am, but something came up.” She frowned at my words.
“Miss Ashley was attacked.” The woman uttered words of disbelief in an undeciphered native language and then invited me in.
“Is she okay?” She asked a little more composed than before. I nodded. “The bullet grazed…” My eyes fell on the countertop with pictures on it. Of her son, daughter, and grandkids.
“You took Mr Smith everywhere?” I enquired. She nodded without slight denial.
“Did he pay you well?”
“Enough to keep me in the job, sir.”
“So apart from his regular visits, did he go somewhere else in the past few weeks?” She frowned at my words and rolled her eyes as if to recollect.
“Umm… the doctor… the poker club… the… oh yes, he went to the bank.” She nodded.
“And what did he do there?” She shrugged.
“Regular withdrawals, I guess. He does not let me enter with him. I sit in the car.”
“Did he bring back any bags or … envelopes?” She shook her head. “No, sir.” I frowned at that. I could have looked disappointed for a moment because she asked, “Is something wrong, sir?” I shook my head. “Where else did he go?”
“The party planner on Wellington Street. Mr Xavier.” She took out her appointment book to check. “He was planning a party for Miss Montgomery.”
“I see,” I noted down the address. “Anywhere else?”
“The jewellery store. To buy her a gift, of course.”
“Of course.” I nodded. I asked to see her appointment book, which she readily showed me. I thanked her and left.
“Doesn’t seem like a blackmailer to me, she was very open with information.” I updated Miller.
“That horse you talked of, the coroner said a porcelain statue could be a potential blunt instrument.”
“Did the killer take it with him then?” I suggested.
“It's a possibility, especially if it recorded something.” Miller nodded.
“Not many know about the recording device, right?” I wondered.
“Only family, I guess.” Miller agreed.
“It's odd that the same recording device that caused Robert to leave was used…”
“I will go talk to him.” Miller sounded eager.
“No, wait for me.”
Mr Robert Smith was sitting on the couch of the lounge area of the hotel he was staying at, his lawyer accompanying him. We expected that the moment we made an appointment, but we did not expect to talk to him in the lounge.
“Wonder why he doesn’t want us to come to his room,” Miller murmured as we walked up to him. “I have a strong urge to tell him to show us his room.
“Try, he won’t without a warrant.” I quipped.
“Wonder what he is so protective of.” Miller shook their hands.
“As you have been notified, we think he suffered blunt force trauma and … a statue is missing.”
“Do you not do your jobs well? You said there was no burglary.” He sounded gruff.
“It's the murder weapon,” I said firmly. “One of the porcelain horses that…” I stopped as Robert chuckled. The Lawyer gawked at him.
“Don’t tell me someone killed him with that! Karma does work.” He shook his head.
“Are you amused, Mr Smith?” Miller looked irked. “That is an odd emotion to have when your father is murdered.”
“I am sorry, I have never been close to him. I have never set foot in that house since I left.” He shook his head. “But what do you want from me?”
“Do you have any idea about the trust fund money?”
“That again!” He snapped. “The old man framed me. I was a fool. He took away Ashley’s money and never intended to give it back. He blackmailed me with his sources to leave the country.”
“Why do you think he took it away? He had given her the fund.”
“Well, Detective, it is wrong to speak ill of the dead but…” Robert lowered his voice, “My father was not exactly a good man. He was a regular at the poker club. What does that tell you?”
“That you got your gambling habits from him?” Miller made his smile vanish.
“The fact that he needed the money and played everyone like a piano.” Robert snapped.
“Well then, where did the money go?”
“How am I supposed to know?” He stood up. “I am not allowed to say anymore,” he turned to his lawyer, who agreed.
“Very well, we will keep you informed.” We shook his hand.
“I have a strong urge to look into his finances,” Miller said as we came out of the lounge, a free croissant in hand.
“Do it.” I insisted. “I am going to the bank to get hold of the CCTV.”
As it turned out, Mr Smith did meet someone inside the bank and handed him the bag of cash. The man then exited the building and drove in a blue car down the road before Mr Smith came out. The face of the man was visible, but he was not in the database. His demeanour in the video made two things possible. Either he was a seasoned criminal, or he did not know he was doing something wrong. His height and build did not match the hooded man either. He was taller and leaner.
“That is a dead end.” Miller tossed the snaps taken from the CCTV on his desk and opened his notebook.
“We have to visit the party planner and the jeweller. I feel those are dead ends, too.” He shook his head.
Xavier’s Party Planning office was bigger than I anticipated. He had a ton of uniformed employees running about, planning everything from weddings to funerals. The secretary checked our cards and informed Mr Xavier, who invited us in immediately.
“I assume you are here for the Smith case.” He shook our hand. “Such a good soul. We were planning his granddaughter’s birthday and now his funeral… It's so sad that…” He was one of the talkers. Ones who could sound like podcasts, and talk for hours in different trajectories. A policeman’s dream.
“When did you meet him and how did he pay you?”
“A cheque.” Xavier nodded. He then rang up his secretary to know if they had met up a day before Mr Smith went to the bank.
“When was the party?”
“The first weekend of next month.”
“Can we see what he ordered?” Xavier showed us all the forms and receipts. As we walked out of the office to the parking lot, I noticed a familiar car.
“Miller! This is the car from the bank!” I almost screamed. We rushed to the car, and it was locked. We called the office security and asked whose car it was. “It belongs to Mr Montgomery.” We were a little startled. “Bring him in.”
It turns out that Montgomery was not a random surname Ashley chose after abandoning her family. It was May’s maiden name. And the man the car belonged to was her Uncle John.
John was now sitting in the interrogation room, looking nervous as we watched him on the monitor. He surely looked like the CCTV image, tall, about 6’3’’ and lean. He also had blonde hair like Ashley.
“So how do you plan to go about it?” I asked Miller. I must admit that the police are far better trained in interrogations than any private eye can be.
“Well, he is involved somehow; we need to know how much.” Miller nodded, checking his notes. “The CCTV catches him driving uptown to the same jewellery store where Mr Smith went to buy Ashley’s gift.”
“Coincidence much?” I raised my eyebrows.
“I think not. He also has debts.” Miller waved Montgomery’s financial records in the air. Then we stepped into the interrogation room. It is a common tactic to make the interrogated suspect as uncomfortable as possible. The leg of his chair was loose, compelling him to sit straight rather than lean on the back; it was squeaky, too. The water we offered him was served in an unclean glass. We watched him wince at it and prefer not to have it. He rubbed his hands constantly as if he were cold, and yet drops of precipitation trickled down his forehead. We were swaying between trying the Reid Technique and playing good cop, bad cop. Through Reid, I planned to accuse him first and then when he denied it, I would give him a plausible explanation to fall back on, all the while Miller played the good cop and stayed by his side. Then I would exit the room in a huff, and he would start talking to Miller.
“So, Mr Montgomery.” I pulled my chair uncomfortably close to him. The room was dark and cold, and only the lamp above the table swayed a little, making our shadows dance on the walls.
“Call me John.” He forced a smile.
“Mr Montgomery.” I exerted. “You have been caught on the CCTV taking a bag of cash from Mr Smith.” To make the point strong enough for him to not deny it, I placed the screenshot of the CCTV footage of him getting into his car on the table. He eyed it once. “So the question is not if. The question is where. Where is the money?” John cleared his throat and looked away as I kept staring at him.
“Well.” He used his handkerchief to pat the sweat off his forehead. “Mr Smith saw me at the event management office. I work as an accountant there. He immediately called me home.”
“So you were at his place? When?”
“The Wednesday before the last… his last.” John stammered a little. Miller cleared his throat. “It's okay, don’t be afraid if you did nothing wrong. You just followed his instructions, right?” He nodded slightly.
“And why did he call you home?”
“He said that he needed financial advice from someone he could trust.” John looked up at Miller and eyed me. “He was looking for a way to make sure Ashley’s trust fund was safe. As her uncle, I…”
“How close are you to your sister and Ashley?” Miller enquired. “You are the only brother?” He nodded. A classic way of connecting is by talking about personal lives.
“Yes, I have two sisters. I am not very close to either, but we meet up every Friday night for dinner and drinks and catch up. It's been our thing since college.”
“Was the plan so this Friday too?” I enquired.
“Umm… no, you see, my sister is in the hospital. But we met on the one before that. And we plan to meet again after the funerals.”
“What kind of a man was Mr Smith?” Miller asked.
“Extremely generous and kind. He helped me find my first job and even took my other sister, Margaret, in when she was in trouble.”
“Trouble?” I asked.
“Yes, she was caught in a robbery she did not commit.” He said readily, “She must be in your files, she has cleaned all thanks to Steven. Robert never liked us.”
“So you don’t get along with Robert?”
“Honestly, I have not met him in over a year. He barely stays here, and when he does, I don’t visit my sister. I have no desire to know from a gambling failure how I should lead my life.” He looked irked.
“So coming back to that day, what did you do at the jewellery store?”
“Mr Smith gave me a task in confidence I can’t…” He shook his head.
“Mr Smith is dead, and someone killed him because of the money.” I slammed my hand deliberately on the table. It hurt a little, but it startled him enough.
“Believe me, sir.” His voice trembled. “I got nothing to do with it.”
“Where were you on Tuesday when Ashley was attacked? You know about that, right?” He nodded. “I visited my sister in the hospital that day, and she told me it was on the news.”
“And where were you around 9 PM?” He scratched his head. “At home, I suppose. I was babysitting the neighbour’s kid, you can ask.”
“We will, but you need to help us out,” Miller said softly. “Why did he give you the money? Why did he trust you?”
“He had always admired me as a hard worker with bad luck, sir. He told me to buy diamonds with the money. I took the pouch back to him on the day he went to the bank itself. He gave me a cheque as a fee.” John showed us his bank statement.
“And then you stole the diamonds from him on Sunday?” I said suggestively. “You knew he could identify you as the thief, so you killed him?”
“No, NO, Sir!” He protested, “You must believe me. I had nothing to do with it.”
“And you attacked Ashley because she would probably find out you knew about the diamonds and could do this.”
“I would never hurt her; she is like my daughter.” John shook his head.
“Yet you barely see her,” I suggested. John inhaled.
“Back then, the entire family had boycotted her; I could not be in anyone’s bad books. So I… she never reconnected after that.” He scratched his head again.
“Where were the diamonds hidden?” Miller enquired.
“In a washing powder box in his laundry room,” John said immediately. “He told me, John, you know where a thief never looks? In your dirty laundry. He winked at me with a toothless grin and instructed me to put the diamonds in that box. Then I asked him if it was safe with his housekeeper and caregiver around too… he said only Ashley did his laundry, and he would tell her about it the next time she visited him. But then my sister was in the hosp…”
“So you are trying to say that Ashley did not know about the diamonds?” Miller frowned. We shared a glance. It was highly unlikely, given how she reacted to the missing washing powder. She knew he had a plan to outsmart her father and made no enquiries.
John was confident that nobody knew about it except him and Mr Smith.
“You see where that leads you…” I said suggestively.
“If I were the killer and thief, why would I help you?” he cried. “And I did not harm Ashley.”
“Maybe you had an accomplice,” I said in a monotonous tone. “Please let me go, I have a job they can fire me from.”
“Not until you give us names.”
“What names, Sir? I know nobody who would harm him like that.”
We left him alone in the interrogation room and appointed someone to keep an eye on him.
“What do you think?” Miller asked.
“Well, for one, I think Ashley lied to us. She either met her grandfather or called him. Either way, she knew.”
“But that doesn’t make her a suspect, right? If she knew, she would also know it was a matter of weeks till her birthday when she would get the fund as a gift, finally after waiting so long. Why kill him? Why plan an attack on herself?”
“Perhaps to avoid suspicion. Maybe she felt that you suspected her, so she hired someone to attack her after you left. If it were Jacob, you would have recognised him, so the attack happened afterwards.”
“Or she wanted to frame her dad once again… for the properties. She must have known he changed the will, too.”
“Are these athletes so underpaid that they get this desperate?” Miller sounded remorseful. “It's so sad when they represent the country to the world, work hard and…”
“We need more proof to arrest anyone else now. John is already in custody, and it won’t be long before his sisters or niece come to know of it. If they are linked to the crime or aided John, they would become careful.
“Let’s rewatch the CCTV again. At the Smith house and the cafe where Ashley was attacked?” I suggested. “Maybe the uniformed officers missed what we won’t.” Miller agreed. It was five hours of footage for both. Every frame needed to be frozen and analysed. I would be awake all night on coffee.
By the third hour, I was drained. My eyes were paining. But I had to go on. Miller took a stroll around the room and came back to his seat. We hit play.
Ashley’s attacker had the same white Beetle car, but they drove past in the shootout, wearing a surgical mask to avoid detection by CCTV. It was the same hooded person. But little could be seen.
We were then watching the footage from outside the Smith house in the morning. The hooded figure ran towards a white Beetle car and got in.
“Freeze it.” I jumped. Miller was startled. “Go back a few seconds.”
“What is it?” he narrowed his eyes.
“See that, a strand of golden hair sticking out of the hoodie when she runs.”
“Yes, she tucks it in. How did we miss that?” Miller sounded excited.
“Our killer is a woman.” I inferred.
“And we think we know who.” Miller smiled.
“But then she must have an accomplice who attacked her,” I suggested.
“John can. Or Jacob.” Miller suggested. “We should see what we get from raiding John’s apartment. The Officers have applied for permission from the judge. We will get the orders by the end of the day."
Ashley was held up in the interrogation room while John was locked up in the overnight cell. We needed to file something against him in the next twenty-four hours, or we had to let him go. If we did, there was a chance he would make a run for it. Guilty or not, nobody liked it when the police were after them. Ashley seemed more relaxed than John. Her demeanour suggested that she was helping us out. I let Miller do her interrogation while I watched. Meeting her had eliminated the chances of my making her uncomfortable. Miller sat down with the papers.
“Is there any lead?” She enquired.
“Well, a few. A white Beetle with false number plates for one. I have some questions to ask you. But first, I must read to you the right to remain silent, anything you say can and will be used in the court of law. You can ask for an attorney…”
“Am I being arrested?” Ashley interrupted.
“No, Ma’am, just questioned,” Miller reassured. “Do you understand your rights?”
“Yes, I do.” Ashley nodded.
“Great, let’s start then.” Miller opened the file.
“When was your last call with your Grandfather?”
“Friday night. I told him I was in hospital with my mother and could not see him that weekend.” She looked teary. “Oh god. I should have.” Miller ignored her rant and showed her no sympathy.
“And it lasted for?” He checked his file again. Ashley shook her head. “Ten Fifteen minutes?”
“The record says thirty-five.”
“Could have been.” She shrugged. “He asked about my mother.”
“And what else did you talk about?”
“If he had taken his medicines, if the caregiver was still there, he said no.”
“And then he proceeded to tell you about the diamonds…” Miller said suggestively.
Ashley’s brows were raised.
“What diamonds?”
“Miss Montgomery, you are saying you did not know about any diamonds?”
“I have no idea what you are talking about.” Ashley’s jaws tightened.
“Well, that is weird since you seemed upset when we talked about the missing washing powder.”
“That is your evidence?” She snapped. “I want a lawyer.”
“Of course, but then we have more… wait for it…” Miller placed the photo of the blonde woman on the table.
“Here is a picture of the killer exiting the building…” He pointed at her hair. “Do you see something?”
Ashley tilted her head and let out an untimely laugh. She forgot that she was in an interrogation room, being accused of murder, when she looked amused. She leaned in.
“Your evidence is a blonde woman? And I am the only one on earth?”
“The only one with a motive.” Miller nodded. “The diamonds, the will, and revenge on your father. Maybe you wanted to frame him for this one, too. We checked his flight records. He was in NYC that day. And you constantly led us to him.”
“How on earth would I know where the diamonds you claim to have been there were? Why would he say something like that over a call? And I may be angry with my dad, but I won’t frame him. I am educated enough to know it doesn’t work that way. I may be an athlete, but I'm sick of how you elites treat me as dumb.” She banged her fist on the table. Miller looked composed.
“Well, if your grandfather did not, maybe your uncle did. Maybe you two did it together?” Miller suggested coldly. “Was he the one to attack you to get us off your trail?”
Ashley looked genuinely shocked. ” My Uncle? John? What has he got to do with this? I haven’t seen him in the past few…”
“ We have a warrant for your home, car and storage. Also, we need your DNA Sample.” Miller placed it on the table.
“I want my lawyer now. I am done helping you.” She sneered. Miller smiled.
“Of course, right after I cuff you.”
“You can’t arrest me.” Ashley got up agitated and tried to resist. “I was attacked too, I am a victim.”
“We can and we will.”
“Are you getting paid by my dad to frame me? Did the caregiver spy on me for him?” She yelled at Miller, trying to lung at him.
Two uniformed female officers came in and cuffed her after a struggle. She was dragged away. Miller was gathering his papers as I looked away from the monitor. Something bothered me. In my years of experience, my hunches were never this wrong. I never suspected her. It was odd. Something was not fitting.
Miller walked in with a smile.
“We will wait for the execution of the warrant and lab reports now. I am sure we will find some evidence to link her and John to the crime.”
“I don’t know…” I looked unsure. He looked irked.
“We have not slept peacefully in a week. It's finally over. Let it go, case is closed.”
He thanked me for my help and shook my hand. I came out of the station still looking unsure. It was raining again, and I rushed to my car. I was at the wheel, driving home, still unsure. It bugged me to be wrong, perhaps. I stopped the car on my street, and that was when it struck me. Ashley wore her watch on her right hand. She was not a leftie, but it was some sort of style statement, perhaps. I rummaged through my file and found the picture of the blonde woman tucking her hair in. There was a watch peeping from behind her sleeves. On her left hand. I rushed back in.
“Miller, see this.”
“No, you see this, maybe you were right.” He interrupted and pointed at the screen. What was I looking at?
It was Ashley Montgomery. At least at first glance, it looked as if it were. Only older. A woman in her late forties, same build, same hair.
“Margaret Montgomery. Arrested for robbery and Battery charges, released on bond to Mr Smith.” I leaned in. “But why would…”
“I sent someone over to her apartment. She had not returned home in the last few days. She was running behind on rent, and her electricity and water supply were cut off for non-payment of bills.”
“Seems like she was having a tough time finding a job after her arrest.”
“Oh, she left the job Mr Smith gave her because it was beyond her.” Miller shrugged. “ Do you think John told her?”
“Let's ask him again.”
“John.” Miller started politely. “You are in big trouble.” His face looked a little pale as he stammered. “Wha… what do you mean?”
“I mean, we found this in your apartment trash.” Miller placed the plastic-wrapped broken horse on the table. Although it had been washed, there were traces of blood along the edges of the thing. “I am sure the blood is Steven’s.” John began to sob inconsolably. “You have to believe me, Sir, I am being framed; someone knew I was helping out. Someone planted the evidence on me.” He sobbed, hiding his face in his hands. “ I would never hurt him or Ashley.”
“Calm Down.” Miller pushed the glass of water to him as he drank. “If you want us to help, think and answer carefully. Do you think Ashley could do that?” John looked a little startled.
“Are you trying to pit me against my family? That will not work; they are my family. Although we don’t see each other that much, I still care and protect…”
“Could Ashley have planted evidence?” Miller interrupted firmly. The man held his ruffled hair as if he would tear it.
“That is impossible. She did not even know where I lived.”
“Who knew where you lived, John?” Miller asked again.
“Only my sisters.” He cried.
“Did you tell them about the diamonds?” Miller enquired.
“Sir, please…”
“Tell us the truth once and for all, otherwise you will rot in jail for a crime you didn’t commit, John. Do you want that?” Miller banged his fist on the table.
“I am sorry. I am so sorry. I don’t remember. I might have… “ He cried again, hiding his face. Miller frowned.
“What do you mean you might have? Did you or did you not tell someone about the diamonds?”
“I intended to tell Ashley and May, not anyone else. Believe me. I told her mother, hoping she would let Ashley know. But I did not say diamonds. I jokingly said the old man thinks hiding something in washing powder keeps them safer than lockers at home. I said it like a joke. Then I asked if Ashley was coming by, and I had some good news for her.” He stopped to breathe.
“Then?” Miller urged him to go on, eyeing the timer on the recording device.
“She was not coming, so I pulled May aside and told her about the diamonds. She had always been so worried about Ashley’s future that I thought she would be happy.” He sniffed and wiped his nose on his sleeves. “She was so happy.” Miller urged him to go on.
“I turned and I saw Margaret appear at the threshold. Like she was just there. I was a little worried. I told May she should not be trusted. May said I was like the world judging her for the burglary, where she was with the wrong people at the wrong time. But I never thought she could harm Ashley.” Miller let the man sit there as he walked out, and I immediately posed my question.
“But why did May never tell Ashley about the diamonds, but the story about hiding things in washing powder?”
“Maybe she did not want Ashley to know about the money,” Miller murmured. “Was she involved?”
“Or maybe she was saving her? Whoever did this was ready to kill for it. There is only one way to find out. Units reported seeing Margaret at May’s hospital. I have an idea.”
We sat in the hospital room adjacent to May’s, disguised as staff, in front of the CCTV set-up. According to our plan, we sought help from Robert to nab the culprit, and he was protective enough about Ashley to help her. He took a bouquet for his wife and placed it down by the bedside table. The base had a hidden device on it from where we watched and listened in. A message beeped on my phone. It was from the officers at Ashley’s house; the hoodie worn on CCTV was found in her apartment under the couch.
“Where were you?” May asked feebly as we watched with bated breath as Margaret walked into the room the moment Robert exited the door.
“It's getting out of hand, I swear, if they get close to me, I will not hesitate to harm Ashley.” May gasped at her words.
“I did as you told. I listened to you. I did not tell Ashley that I saw you with that hoodie or the bag of diamonds. Don’t harm her.” May sobbed.
“Oh shut up, you will alert the nurse. It was my bad that I thought you were under the influence of Anastasia when I came here. That was on me. I don’t wish to harm you; you raised me. But…” She looked agitated as she paced the room, “Your daughter led them to John. Is there any guarantee she won’t lead them to me?”
“I reassured you she doesn’t know about your case or lifestyle. She had not been in contact…”
“Can I ever make you shut up without killing you? Margaret grunted. “I swear if you were home instead of this stupid hospital…” May was out of sight from the camera, but she sounded scared.
“What happened?” Her voice trembled. “I thought they arrested John. Isn’t that what you wanted?”
“Yes, but I mistakenly left the hoodie at Ashley’s when I crashed there while she was with the police.” May sounded even more scared at her casual demeanour.
“What?” May was startled. “How did you get in?”
“I can duplicate the old man’s keys and not hers?” Margaret smiled. “You underestimated me, Sis.”
“I thought you planted your evidence at John’s. Don’t you dare frame my child. I will not cooperate even if you kill me then.”
“Keeping it at John’s wasn’t safe. It was a woman’s hoodie, so I…” Margaret shrugged casually.
“Is Ashley arrested? Is that why she did not come to visit?” May sobbed again. “Oh, Robert came for that. I should have known. I should have known.” She reached for the room bell, but Margaret stopped her.
“Calm down.” She snapped. “The Police are at her place. I can’t contact her.”
“Good lord. Now? What if they come to ask me?”
“I am going off the grid for some time,” Margaret spoke as May looked unsure. “Tell them you don’t know. If you don’t cooperate, there are people around you, observing your every move. You go to the police, and Ashley dies.”
“You can’t leave.” She sounded helpless. “I came into surgery because you said I should… Had I known it was a trap…”
“Nobody will suspect you; you were here all the time.” Margaret snapped.
“You aren’t coming back, are you?” May’s voice trembled. “You terrible, terrible animal…”
“If you lived the life I lived, sis, you would think twice before choosing those words." Margaret was dangerously close to May. I eyed Miller to confirm if it was safe to go on. He seemed relaxed.
May snapped. “I should have never trusted you or invited you to stay.”
“Too late, Sis. Try going to the police, I will not only take down Ashley, I will also frame you as a co-conspirator.”
“I will tell the police if you do that. Nobody will believe you then if you say I was involved.”
“Look at you, being full of morals when you could be an accomplice. I offered you some of it. God knows you need it too.” Margaret rebuked,
“I can be penniless, but I can never harm my daughter or steal her money.”
“Robert would never leave Wall Street, and Ashley can’t be trusted. Who knows what she would do once she gets her money and joins the Olympic teams?” Margaret spoke, “I am your real family, but you don’t get it, do you? Did Steven think of you ever?” Margaret was trying to manipulate May.
May sobbed.
“I did so much for you, Margaret, I have always believed you were in the wrong situation…”
“Pray, dear God, are you that naive, sis? I was not. I was part of it. Do you think it's easy to kill another human being?” She shook her head. “Steven was good to me once.” She sat down beside May.
“Believe me, sister, I don’t wish to do this, but I have to. My accomplice will be waiting downstairs. I'd better go.”
“Prove what you mean then.” May sounded firm and made Margaret stop. “What do you mean?” She asked.
“Prove that you are family and give me some share of the money to keep quiet.” I must say at this point, I could hardly breathe. Was May playing some sort of trick, or had she turned?
“So I do the hard work, and you think I will just give in to your little blackmail? How cute.” Margaret chuckled.
“You could not sell the diamonds yet, could you?” Her smile faded at May’s words. “That’s why you are scared.”
“I am not stupid enough to try selling ten diamonds in this town after the news broke. I have my people and my ways.”
“Who are these people?” May enquired. Robert sat up straight in his chair.
“She knows.” He said between his teeth.
“What?” Miller asked.
“She knows she is under surveillance. There is no way she wants to know such details and land in trouble. She is a very soft person…”
“What did you tell her?” I asked suspiciously.
“Get well soon.” Robert shrugged. “But I never get her flowers so…”
“The less you know, the better your chances of living. I don’t want to harm you, don’t make me.” Margaret sounded irked.
“Now!” Miller ordered his men as they barged in and surprised the sisters.
“Hands in the air.” I could hear them shout.
It was almost evening when I sat in front of a monitor again, watching Miller interrogate Margaret Montgomery. John’s statement was used to identify Margaret in the footage, but we wanted more information. How she did it, and who else was involved.
It took Miller six hours to coax her into believing that giving away her co-conspirators and accusing them could lead to a lesser sentence for her. I did not think Margaret would give in to that bluff, but she did. She started talking. She talked about a woman, Sara, whom she met in Jail briefly and mentioned the rich in-laws of her sister. Sara introduced her to her brother, Kevin. Margaret was unable to get a job and pay her bills, so she was getting desperate. Stealing a few pounds from her siblings was no longer useful. She wanted something big, and the opportunity fell in her lap when, on Friday, she overheard John talking to May. They met over drinks, and she made a drunken John tell her more about it. She added something to his drinks, and he slept through the night to forget it in the morning. She contacted Kevin and hatched the plan. She called Steven after the caregiver left and asked if she could come over. She sobbed and said she wanted to mend her ways and thank him. The old man agreed. She planned to simply steal the diamonds, but she soon realised that she could not go upstairs with Steven conscious. She had picked up the horse figure he was cleaning from the kitchen counter and struck him on his head, hoping to temporarily disable him as she looked around. But when she came downstairs, she found he was dead. Panic set in, but Kevin said to throw them off, she needed to take the murder weapon with her and exit through the back only after dawn set in to avoid suspicion. What she did not know was when the caregiver came around. She looked around the house to find other things and failed, and then took the kitchen knife from the counter and stabbed him to make it look like a targeted murder of hatred rather than anything else. Nobody except John and May knew about the diamonds, and it was her idea that May go into surgery to prevent her from telling Ashley yet, knowing quite well when Ashley would visit. May did not think it could be anything but concern. It was always a plan to frame John. That way, he would be eliminated from the claim over their parents’ farm, too. Two birds with a bullet. Kevin was going to sell the diamonds before anyone got to them.
“But that was a ruined plan because your detective got to it faster than we thought; we could no longer sell them in this town.” I smiled involuntarily in pride. It was a weird kind of validation coming from a criminal.
“So Kevin took it out of town, and he was waiting for me to join him. I could not disappear, suddenly making anyone suspicious. But then May said she saw me take out a pouch on the day of her surgery. I had to stop her. So I thought a false attack on Ashley would scare her enough. I followed her and waited for the detective to leave. I took Kevin’s car because my backup plan was to frame him if I got caught.” Margaret did not look like she regretted what she did. She sat there, looking stoic, watching Miller gather his papers. She refused a lawyer and said she was ready to go back into the system. The outside world was not for her; she was always a misfit. Miller dispatched units to the Motel she named and did not find Kevin. He was on the run, but they found the diamonds. Kevin was reported as dangerous and on the run throughout the country. It was a matter of time till we found him.
Ashley Montgomery insisted we attend her grandfather’s funeral, especially after Margaret’s arrest and Robert's leaving for NYC to avoid the drama. May was fine and co-hosting the event mostly out of guilt for what her sister had done. Ashley was to inherit his properties that very day when Miller showed her the pouch of diamonds.
“Unfortunately, this is evidence now. But you can claim the value back from the Government once the case is closed.”
“Thank you, officers.” Ashley shook their hands and turned to me. “Detective.”
“What will you do with the fund?” I could not help my curiosity get the better of me. Ashley smiled as though she expected the question.
“I was thinking of turning it into a fund for underprivileged athletes who represent the nation.”
I nodded and said it was a good idea. It was evening when I left. I started my car and was heading home when my mother called.
“Hey, when are you coming home for the holidays?” She asked.
“Why? What’s the plan?” I enquired.
“We are planning a trip to Kalimpong.” She quipped.
I haven’t been getting many comments or interactions lately, and it’s making me wonder if anyone’s reading the stories. If you do happen to read them, I’d really love it if you could drop a quick comment sometime. ❤️