Post by Enchant on May 22, 2006 11:01:37 GMT -5
This is Chief Inspector Jack Pachuta with the case I call Charmed to Death.
He had a way with words. Who knows what impact this had upon his murder? Martin Webster, millionaire recluse, had gained world fame as a linguist, merging words with their meanings, and authoring books used by scholars to research the evolution and richness of the English language. When I was called in to investigate his death, only one word came to mind - puzzling.
Webster was found dead early one morning by his maid. His body was seated at his desk in the study of his secluded home. He had never married, preferring instead to spend the 63 years of his life immersed in the nuances and intonations of the spoken word. His corpse was face down with his head resting on a list of words. The hilt of a Spanish dagger which he used as a letter opener protruded from his back. The dried blood from the gaping wound helped tell the deadly tale of a man who had been attacked from behind.
A telephone was in his left hand, perhaps indicating he had time for one last plea before death overcame him. Later we found he had used his phone's auto dialer to call his niece, Kristin Cutler. His final words, recorded by her answering machine were, "I was charmed." His voice tapered off as the shroud of death enveloped him. What could this cryptic message mean?
And, the words on the list that had been the focus of his attention at the moment of his death seemed ordinary yet poignant - GANG, CRASH, STRING, PRIDE - and, finally - MURDER! Did they hold some hidden clue?
Upon interrogating Kristin Cutler, I found she was an artist and Webster's only living relative. The daughter of his lone sibling, a sister who had died many years ago, she had recently been at odds with Webster due to a silly quarrel. The disagreement, it seemed, centered around Kristin's decision to become the fiancee of Robert Foot, a zoo keeper whom she had met at a party. Her uncle had disapproved of the anticipated marriage, claiming Foot was a rogue and only wanted to share the Webster family fortune which should rightly go to Kristin. "I could never murder Uncle Martin," she assured me. "I wouldn't have harmed him." Why wasn't she home when the fateful phone call was placed? Well, she pointed out, "Robbie and I were together last night, inspector. We lost track of the time, but that's unimportant. We don't need money to make us happy."
However, talking to the maid, Rose Finch, I received a different opinion. "My husband, Herbert, and I have been employed by Mr. Webster for the last 12 years," she said. "Herbert has been both a butler and a confidante to the old gentleman. We know Robbie Foot was like a fishbone in Mr. Webster's throat. It's too bad we had the night off or we would have been here to see for ourselves what happened." Holding her in his arms, Herbert added, "I can't think of anyone who would have wanted to kill him. He was such a nice man and always treated us very generously."
As I walked toward the door, a large luxury car pulled up. It was Alexander Denton, Webster's attorney and long-time legal consultant. He told me he was there to take care of some important issues which he had been working on for the old fellow. Webster's death did not alter the fact that Denton's work must be completed.
"I heard about his death on the radio this morning," Denton told me. "I had to take care of a few pressing matters before I could get here. It's strange how things work out. My client had just signed a new will last week. Two clerks in my office served as witnesses. Not many people know that he had made some very difficult, personal decisions to - shall we say - redistribute his wealth."
When I asked what those decisions were, Denton declined to say. "You'll have to wait with everyone else, inspector" he said. "But, I can tell you this much. Mr. Webster became highly involved in some of the animal rights issues which are being championed by my law firm. He wanted to make sure his patronage would continue no matter what might happen to him. I, of course, will make sure those wishes are carried out."
It was a cool autumn day. Walking around the grounds of Webster's home, I couldn't help but take note of the brilliant fall colors, and the dazzling sunset before my eyes. A squirrel carrying an acorn dashed across my path, and a covey of quail bobbed its way through the nearby forest. In the distance, I heard a honking sound. Looking up I noticed that Canada geese were on the wing. Skeins of several hundred geese in their v-shaped formations headed toward warmer weather now that chilly winds had begun to blow.
Suddenly, it was all very clear. The words, the message, whodunit. It all made sense. All that remained was to confront the guilty!
Who will be the first to figure out the answer? If you decide to answer, please explain your answer. You may take a gander as many times as you wish, but The true answer will be released in one week. Good luck and have your wits about you.
He had a way with words. Who knows what impact this had upon his murder? Martin Webster, millionaire recluse, had gained world fame as a linguist, merging words with their meanings, and authoring books used by scholars to research the evolution and richness of the English language. When I was called in to investigate his death, only one word came to mind - puzzling.
Webster was found dead early one morning by his maid. His body was seated at his desk in the study of his secluded home. He had never married, preferring instead to spend the 63 years of his life immersed in the nuances and intonations of the spoken word. His corpse was face down with his head resting on a list of words. The hilt of a Spanish dagger which he used as a letter opener protruded from his back. The dried blood from the gaping wound helped tell the deadly tale of a man who had been attacked from behind.
A telephone was in his left hand, perhaps indicating he had time for one last plea before death overcame him. Later we found he had used his phone's auto dialer to call his niece, Kristin Cutler. His final words, recorded by her answering machine were, "I was charmed." His voice tapered off as the shroud of death enveloped him. What could this cryptic message mean?
And, the words on the list that had been the focus of his attention at the moment of his death seemed ordinary yet poignant - GANG, CRASH, STRING, PRIDE - and, finally - MURDER! Did they hold some hidden clue?
Upon interrogating Kristin Cutler, I found she was an artist and Webster's only living relative. The daughter of his lone sibling, a sister who had died many years ago, she had recently been at odds with Webster due to a silly quarrel. The disagreement, it seemed, centered around Kristin's decision to become the fiancee of Robert Foot, a zoo keeper whom she had met at a party. Her uncle had disapproved of the anticipated marriage, claiming Foot was a rogue and only wanted to share the Webster family fortune which should rightly go to Kristin. "I could never murder Uncle Martin," she assured me. "I wouldn't have harmed him." Why wasn't she home when the fateful phone call was placed? Well, she pointed out, "Robbie and I were together last night, inspector. We lost track of the time, but that's unimportant. We don't need money to make us happy."
However, talking to the maid, Rose Finch, I received a different opinion. "My husband, Herbert, and I have been employed by Mr. Webster for the last 12 years," she said. "Herbert has been both a butler and a confidante to the old gentleman. We know Robbie Foot was like a fishbone in Mr. Webster's throat. It's too bad we had the night off or we would have been here to see for ourselves what happened." Holding her in his arms, Herbert added, "I can't think of anyone who would have wanted to kill him. He was such a nice man and always treated us very generously."
As I walked toward the door, a large luxury car pulled up. It was Alexander Denton, Webster's attorney and long-time legal consultant. He told me he was there to take care of some important issues which he had been working on for the old fellow. Webster's death did not alter the fact that Denton's work must be completed.
"I heard about his death on the radio this morning," Denton told me. "I had to take care of a few pressing matters before I could get here. It's strange how things work out. My client had just signed a new will last week. Two clerks in my office served as witnesses. Not many people know that he had made some very difficult, personal decisions to - shall we say - redistribute his wealth."
When I asked what those decisions were, Denton declined to say. "You'll have to wait with everyone else, inspector" he said. "But, I can tell you this much. Mr. Webster became highly involved in some of the animal rights issues which are being championed by my law firm. He wanted to make sure his patronage would continue no matter what might happen to him. I, of course, will make sure those wishes are carried out."
It was a cool autumn day. Walking around the grounds of Webster's home, I couldn't help but take note of the brilliant fall colors, and the dazzling sunset before my eyes. A squirrel carrying an acorn dashed across my path, and a covey of quail bobbed its way through the nearby forest. In the distance, I heard a honking sound. Looking up I noticed that Canada geese were on the wing. Skeins of several hundred geese in their v-shaped formations headed toward warmer weather now that chilly winds had begun to blow.
Suddenly, it was all very clear. The words, the message, whodunit. It all made sense. All that remained was to confront the guilty!
Who will be the first to figure out the answer? If you decide to answer, please explain your answer. You may take a gander as many times as you wish, but The true answer will be released in one week. Good luck and have your wits about you.