WhoDunIt, a fun contest for mystery lovers
by Alan Zacher and Erika M Szabo
On a rainy Thursday morning, Mrs. O’ Brian was found dead in
her one-bedroom apartment in the inner-city of St. Louis by her caretaker and
the apartment complex manager. According to their statements, Mrs. O’Brian
didn’t come to the door as usual when Flora, her caretaker knocked. Worried,
she asked the manager to open the door, and they’ve found the old lady in the
kitchen, dead, and the apartment ransacked.
Homicide Detective Chance was assigned to the case.
According to the coroner’s report, Mrs. O'Brian died sometime between eight and
midnight the night before. The cause of death was asphyxiation as the result of
someone holding a soft, thick material to her face until she stopped breathing.
Although she had some bruising on her arms as if she tried to fight off the
attacker, the coroner didn’t find any evidence under her fingernails.
By Friday, Detective Chance found out that Mrs. O’ Brian had
lived there for many years, had a moderate income, and she was a lady of
routine. She rose every morning at six AM. After bathing and dressing, she ate
her breakfast of a bowl of cereal while she watched the morning local news on
the small TV that sat on top of the kitchen table. On Mondays and Thursdays
from eight AM until noon, Flora, her caregiver, came to help her with cleaning,
laundry, and cooking. On Tuesday mornings, Mrs. O’Brian ordered a taxi and went
to buy groceries at a small family-owned store, the Kroger’s, five blocks south
of her apartment building.
Detective Chance visited the store and finding the owner
asked if he knows Mr. O’Brian. “Of course, she’s been shopping here every week
for years. A loyal customer, she was just here Tuesday. I hope she knows that
she had won the jackpot,” the owner of the store told the detective, smiling.
But his expression turned sad when the detective told him that she was
murdered. “Oh, I’m so sorry!” he cried out. “She was such a sweet person.”
“How did you know she won the lottery?” the detective
inquired.
I know because every week she’s been buying one ticket and
always playing the same numbers, her birthday and of her late husband’s
birthday. She told me many times that if she would ever win the lottery, she
would have an animal sanctuary built and gather all the old, unwanted animals.
Life is so unfair!” he cried out. “Just when her dream comes true, she dies.”
After gathering all the information, he could, the detective
didn’t have any proof, only suspicion. He asked the most likely suspects to
gather in the modestly furnished living-room of Mrs. O’Brian’s apartment,
hoping he could flush out the murderer.
Two women arrived first. They sat on the floral-printed
sofa, nervously glancing at the detective who stood by the window deep in
thoughts, and the police officers standing by the door. Flora, a middle-aged,
plump caregiver, Mrs. Banks, the manager of the apartment complex, a tall, bony
woman with a pointy nose and dark hair combed into a tight bun.
Flora leaned closer to Mrs. Banks and whispered, “Oh, my!
Who could be so cruel to smother a sweet old lady to death? I’m going to miss
her.” She sniffed and wiped her eyes with a tissue.
“Terrible!” Mrs. Banks nodded. “Just terrible. Who could
have done it?”
“I never trusted this shifty-eyed janitor,” Flora whispered.
“I never had any problems with him, but you never know… We
don’t really know people.”
As if talking about the devil, Gerard Ochs, the
disheveled-looking janitor of the apartment complex in stained overall walked
in and sat on the sofa close to Mrs. Banks. “There is a leak in apartment C,”
he said to the manager. “I shut off the water; I’ll fix it later when we’re
done here.”
Mrs. Banks nodded and looked up as Tricia O’ Brian, a
twenty-three-year-old known drug addict niece of Mrs. O’ Brian walked in. She
sat down and clasped her hands trying to hide the tremors of her fingers.
Scanning the nervously fidgeting bunch, Detective Chance
began talking, “The coroner’s report of Mrs. O’ Brian states that she had
been murdered. Everyone in this room had access to her apartment. According to
her phone records, on late Wednesday night, she called every one of you, most
likely to tell you that she won the lottery jackpot. Therefore, you all had a
motive to kill her and steal the winning ticket!”
He towered over the niece, Tricia O’ Brian, “You are a drug
addict, you have no job, and I suspect, you’re always in need of money.”
“But I… I didn’t get her message until…” she stuttered. “Until
you told me this morning when you found me at my boyfriend’s apartment. You
see, we had a party last night and… I didn’t hear the phone…”
The detective gave her a pitying look, turned, and stared at
Mrs. Banks. “Your husband has gambling debts and the loan sharks are threatening
him. You live in the complex and you have a key to this apartment.”
“It wasn’t me!” Mrs. Bank shouted. “I drove to the casino
shortly after eight, dragged my no-good husband out of there by the ear, and we
had a huge fight in the parking lot. The police were called, and they took us
to the police station. We didn’t get home until four in the morning.”
The detective took a step toward the caregiver. The
middle-aged woman squirmed when the detective looked into her eyes. “Flora,
let’s talk about that morning when you and Mrs. Banks found Mrs. O’Brian
slumped over at the kitchen table, dead.”
“As I told you then,” Flora said wringing her fingers on her
lap. “I kept knocking and pushing the doorbell, but she didn’t answer. I got
worried, and I went to wake up Mrs. Banks to let me in with her master key.”
The detective shook his head and leaned closer to Flora. “But
that’s not what happened. You have a key to the building and a key to your
clients’ apartment. I know; I checked with the two other residents here that
you are taking care of. You let yourself in. What happened after that?”
Flora’s eyes widened. “No! I never had a key to Mrs.
O’Brian’s apartment. She was paranoid about that, she never gave me a key. I
swear!” Detective Chance gave her a sharp look, and then he turned to face the
janitor.
The detective now faced Gerard Ochs, the janitor. “You have
been stealing jewelry from these residents for years,” he accused. “You’ve been
careful, you take only one piece of jewelry at a time.”
The janitor drew a sharp breath. “How do… how do you know?”
“Because you’re stupid enough to use the pawnbroker only a
block away from the apartment complex.” The detective motioned to one of the
uniformed officers standing by the door. “Arrest him and take him to the station.”
Flora jumped up. “Murderer!” she shrieked.
“I didn't do it!” Gerard screamed as the officers handcuffed
him. “I'm a thief but I'm no killer!”
“What happened to the lottery ticket, detective?” came
Tricia's shaky voice. “I'm her only relative, and I could really use the money
right now.”
“Mrs. O’Brian gave the ticket to her lawyer and named him the executor of her new will to have the animal sanctuary built. She took care of everything the afternoon before she was murdered.”
Detective Chance had all the information he needed to arrest the murderer.
The conclusion of the story and the killer will be revealed Sunday, the 14th of March
Click on the link to find out who the killer was
https://asmallgangofauthors.blogspot.com/2021/03/who-is-killer-did-you-guess-right.html
The contest is over, but we still have a few complimentary audiobooks. If you like to listen to audiobooks, request a complimentary copy below
