Jefferson sat at the small table, quietly analyzing the boy sitting across from him. He looked young, probably about eighteen years old. He was fidgeting with his hands slightly, looking around the room. Silence usually had that effect on people. They didn’t know what to do with themselves. There was something almost hauntingly familiar about his face, but that was a common thing when you interacted with as many people as Jefferson did.

Jefferson, a private detective, was working on his latest case, investigating the death of a wealthy man named Berris Lindon. He was the type of man who everybody in the community knew, with his large estate, sizable fortune, and house full of servants and maids.

 Yesterday, he was found dead in his study. The autopsy confirmed it: murder. Traces of cyanide had been found in his blood. Jefferson had immediately volunteered to investigate; it had been much too long since he’d done anything as interesting as this. The last time he’d had a case this serious to investigate was a couple years back, investigating the murder of a homeless woman. The whole thing had been rather gloomy, and he’d only dealt with petty crimes like small robberies and vandalism of abandoned buildings since. As soon as Jefferson had heard about this case it had piqued his interest.

His first course of action had been to question Berris’s wife, Anneliese Lindon. She seemed like a relatively nice lady, although Jefferson did find it suspicious that she didn’t seem all too distraught over her husband’s untimely death. Jefferson would look into that.

Now, the detective was questioning one of the Lindon’s servants, Harris. He seemed like a bright, intelligent sort of boy, but was obviously nervous because this was his first time having anything to do with a murder.

“Harris. Would you mind telling me where you were yesterday and what you were doing?” Jefferson asked calmly. 

Nodding, Harris replied, “I was in the kitchen helping Mrs. Ross, the cook. She was busy that day cooking a big dinner. The Lindons were having some guests over that evening, but, well, you can see why it all got canceled.” 

“And you were in there the whole day?” Jefferson inquired, to which Harris nodded.  

Jefferson continued, “I believe you. Did you see much of Mr. and Mrs. Lindon yesterday? Were either of them acting strange at all?”

“I was in the kitchen all day, sir, so I didn’t see Mr. Lindon at all, but Mrs. Lindon came down once. She was coming to get a glass of water for Mr. Lindon a little after noon. She does it almost daily, just to do something nice for him. It gets quite hot in this house, especially this time of year in midsummer.”

Jefferson nodded thoughtfully.

“Interesting. Thank you, Harris, you’ve been very helpful. You can go now,” he said.

“Um, actually sir, I was wondering if I could come with you. I’ve always been interested in being a detective. Maybe I could just come and watch your investigation?” Harris asked hopefully.

Jefferson sighed, but nodded, “Fine, if you must.”

…

As soon as Jefferson entered the Lindon House he was met with sweeping staircases and long hallways with elegant furnishings. The floors were beautiful dark wood covered in ornate carpets, tall windows lined the walls, and a chandelier hung from the ceiling. Harris led him up a long twisting staircase to the study, which was equally opulent.

Once Jefferson had heard about the murder and taken up the case, he had specifically requested that the scene remain untouched in case there were any clues that could help in the investigation. The room was smaller than Jefferson had expected, with only a few windows, which made it darker and more foreboding than the rest of the house, fitting considering the circumstances. 

Against the wall on the other side of the room sat Berris’s desk. It was just how it had been left yesterday when the body had been found. The only thing that had been touched was the glass of water which sat atop a small pile of unorderly papers and documents. When the autopsy had revealed poison in Berris’s blood, the water had immediately been tested, and sure enough, it had been poisoned. Jefferson picked up the glass. It appeared to be just a normal cup of water: clear, plain, and odorless. Unfortunately, that’s just what most poisons were like. Undetectable to the naked eye. 

Jefferson sighed and put down the glass. He turned back to Harris, who had been standing awkwardly in the doorway of the study unsure of what he was supposed to do.

“Well, don’t just stand there,” Jefferson said in an impatient tone, “you want to be a detective, don’t you? So come over here and help me investigate!”

“Right, of course, sorry,” Harris answered, walking across the room to stand next to Jefferson. 

The detective looked at the boy expectantly, waiting for him to say something. Harris just stared at the desk with an almost glazed-over expression. He seemed uncomfortable, like he didn’t want to be in the place where someone had just died. Jefferson could understand that, especially since the boy had known Berris for years. The detective had been that way too when he’d started out, but years of investigating crimes like this one had almost desensitized him. 

“So the water was poisoned?” Harris said after a few more seconds of blank staring. Jefferson nodded and gestured for Harris to continue.

“And… Mrs. Lindon was the one who gave him the water. Doesn’t that mean it was her?” Harris questioned.

“That’s what the evidence points to. We can’t be completely sure though. Something may have happened between the time when Berris received the water and when he was found. The maid and the cook have not been questioned yet, so that’s where we’re headed next.”

… 

The maid, Rosie, was the quiet yet fidgety type of person. She spoke softly and looked down at the table, playing with her hands instead of meeting Jefferson’s eyes. 

“So, Rosie, what were you doing yesterday during the time of the crime?” Jefferson said calmly.

“Nothing much, just helping Mrs. Ross with dinner, bringing some tea to Mrs. Lindon, setting the table and all that,” Rosie said in a nervous voice, like she was scared everything she said could make her seem like the murderer.

“Did you see much of Mrs. Lindon yesterday?”

“Just the normal amount, sir. I brought her afternoon tea like always, but that’s about it, I think,” Rosie answered timidly.

“And was she acting strange at all? Nervous, perhaps?” Jefferson asked.

“Not that I noticed, sir,” she squeaked anxiously.

Jefferson sighed. It was evident that he wouldn’t be able to get much information out of this girl. He was starting to wish he’d actually brought Harris into the room while he questioned Rosie. Maybe a familiar face would have eased her nerves a little.

“Can you tell me anything about the relationship between Mr. and Mrs. Lindon?” Jefferson asked her, although he didn’t expect much of a response.

Rosie hesitated, clearly uncomfortable talking about this subject. Although it seemed to Jefferson that she wasn’t comfortable talking about any subject.

“Um, well… there were some rocky moments between the two,” Rosie said hesitantly. Jefferson raised an eyebrow and gestured for her to continue explaining.

“There was an incident a few years back,” Rosie said, “Mr. Lindon had an… affair with one of the maids here.” She said it like the word tasted foul in her mouth. “I really don’t think I should say more than that,” she added nervously.

“An affair? And Mrs. Lindon knew about it?” Jefferson questioned, but he was only met with a nervous nod. He could tell he wasn’t going to get anything else about the affair out of Rosie, so it was time to move on.

“Did you see much of Mr. Lindon yesterday?” he asked.

“A bit. I helped serve him his breakfast, his lunch, brought him a newspaper in the afternoon, ordinary things like that that I do every day,” Rosie answered in her timid voice.

Jefferson nodded, taking in all the information. The maid had been helpful, but if he wanted to learn more he would have to go talk to one of the only other servants who had been in the house yesterday: the cook.

…

Jefferson exited the room and met Harris outside the door.

“Find anything useful?” Harris asked curiously.

“Maybe,” Jefferson answered. “Did you know about Mr. Lindon’s affair?”

The question made Harris visibly tense. Apparently, this was a very touchy subject with all members of the household. 

“Yes, I know about it,” Harris said in a cautious voice. “Why? Do you think that’s why Mrs. Lindon did it?”

“It is pretty suspicious, and provides motive, but we need concrete evidence. We still don’t know anything for sure so let’s not jump to any conclusions. That’s one of the first rules a detective should follow, you know. Things aren’t always, in fact, rarely are, as they seem.”

…

Completely unlike Rosie, Mrs. Ross, the cook, was more than happy to give Jefferson every single little detail about whatever he asked and loved to go on and on and on about the smallest things. Honestly, it was a detective’s dream come true! Well, except for the many rabbit holes to lose time down. Mrs. Ross made sure to go down every single one. Currently, she was giving Jefferson an extremely detailed report of the previous day. Jefferson learned more than he thought he’d ever need to know about how to prepare Mrs. Ross’ world-famous (in the Lindon House) lemon dill salmon, as well as many other random things that Jefferson doubted were going to be at all relevant to the case.

“That’s all very interesting, Mrs. Ross, but could you tell me what you were doing around two o’clock when the murder took place?” Jefferson cut her off right as she started to tell him about which herbs she added to her special homemade salad dressing.

“Oh, well, I was just beginning to make dinner, it was-” Mrs. Ross tried to say before she was cut off once again.

“And you didn’t leave the kitchen at all? You were working on the meal the entire time?”

“Oh yes, until they come running down to tell me that Mr. Lindon’s passed away. Gave me a real fright, too, believe me. I hear shrieking from upstairs and jump so high in surprise that I almost spill a pot of soup all over the floor! It really was too bad, you know, Mr. Lindon would have loved the dinner I was making yesterday,” she said, shaking her head. Jefferson nods sympathetically. 

“I’m sure it all came as quite a surprise,” he says, pausing. Then “Mrs. Ross, I wonder if you could answer some questions for me about the relationship between Mr. and Mrs. Lindon. I have reason to suspect that Mrs. Lindon may have been the one to put poison in the glass. You see, I’ve heard some rumors about an affair that Mr. Lindon may have had with a maid a few years ago. Could you tell me more about that?” He figured that if anyone would talk about it, it would be Mrs. Ross. Her face grew serious.

“Oh, I can certainly tell you about it. Caused quite a stir a few years back, it did. There was a maid, Emilia Pinton. Very sweet, very beautiful. She’d been widowed a long time back; husband died from some sort of illness. Can’t remember what. Anyway, she was hired and brought her little son with her. He still works here, you know. Wonderful boy! Hardworking, helpful, diligent. Why, just yesterday he was helping me with my errands since I was so busy fixing dinner! Helped do the dishes, helped Rosie get ice for some drinks, always fetches the jars on the top shelves for me too, you know-”

“Mrs. Ross, back on topic please.”

“Right, right, of course. Back on topic. Well, a little under a year after Emilia was hired, it came out that she’d been having an affair with Mr. Lindon. Mrs. Lindon was furious, of course. Emelia was fired immediately. They let her son stay and train to be a footman or something since he would have a much better life here than on the streets with Emelia. Of course, there was no way she’d be getting a job, or at least an honorable one if you know what I mean, what with the horrible reference Mrs. Lindon gave her when she left. She wanted her son to have a good life, so he stayed. 

“But I don’t think either of the Lindons ever really forgave each other. Mrs. Lindon was always a bit cold and resentful towards her husband after the whole thing. And Mr. Lindon didn’t handle it well at all. Keeping the whole thing secret to protect himself from the public was clearly much more important to him than the hurt he caused his wife. She did keep it quiet though. In fact, she tried even harder to please him after the affair. She would get things for him while he was working, pay more attention to his weird hobbies, things like that. She would always bring him drinks while he was in his study, too, which is something a servant would usually do. She really wanted him to love her, and he just didn’t. Not as much as she wanted him to. She resented that very much, I think,” Mrs. Ross said sadly.

Jefferson nodded, deep in thought.

“Thank you very much, Mrs. Ross. You’ve been quite helpful.”

… 

Jefferson gathered everyone together in a room. Harris stood by his side, while Rosie, Mrs. Ross, and Mrs. Lindon chose to sit in chairs. A few of the other servants who worked at the household were there too.

“You’ll all be pleased to know that I believe I have found sufficient evidence to make a firm conclusion on who the culprit is in this case,” Jefferson said. “In fact, I’ve already called the police.”

He looked around the room as everyone reacted to the news. Rosie looked nervous as usual, Harris nodded as if proud to be a part in the solving of the case, Mrs. Ross sighed and shook her head as if she was tired of this whole situation, and Mrs. Lindon simply sat with her legs crossed daintily, a rather blank look on her face.

A few minutes later there was a knock on the door, and Jefferson walked over to open it.

“Ah, officer, thank you for coming,” Jefferson said calmly.

“Of course,” the officer said as he walked through the door. To everyone’s shock, he did not walk over to Mrs. Lindon. Instead, he turned and walked straight to…

Harris? 

“What?” Harris said, utterly flabbergasted as he was handcuffed.

“It took me a while to figure it out,” Jefferson explained, “but the clues were all there. The first thing that seemed suspicious to me was something Rosie said.”

“Me?” Rosie said nervously, as if expecting the officer to turn and arrest her instead.

Jefferson nodded and continued, “You said that you saw Mr Lindon in the afternoon. That would have been after he received the drink. Considering the type of poison that was found in the drink, cyanide, he would have already been dead by that point if he’d taken even a sip of that water. Unless the poison wasn’t in the water at all.”

“What do you mean? The tests proved it!” Mrs. Ross exclaimed.

“Yes, but I don’t think that the poison was originally in the water. You mentioned yourself that ice was brought to people's drinks yesterday. Harris himself told me that it gets hot in this house around this time of year. I wouldn’t be at all surprised if Berris Lindon requested that some ice be brought to his study halfway through the afternoon.”

“And you think the poison was melted in the ice?” Mrs. Ross inquires.

“I do. Therefore, Mrs. Lindon is entirely free of guilt. Of course, she was the one I suspected at the start. A bad history with Mr. Lindon could have motivated her to commit this crime, and she was the one who brought him the glass of water after all. But it obviously wasn’t her, since the water couldn’t have been poisoned to begin with. 

“That led me to question further. It must’ve been one of the servants, but who? Rosie was the obvious first choice, as she’s the one who brought the ice to Mr. Lindon in the end,” Jefferson looks at Rosie who looks on the verge of a nervous breakdown, “And the fact that she seemed very nervous to answer any of my questions certainly didn’t help her case. But then something that Mrs. Ross said changed my mind.”

He glances at Mrs. Ross before continuing, “You see, Mrs. Ross, I knew Emilia Pinton. In fact, I’m the one who investigated her murder case a few years ago. But it was only when you mentioned her name that I realized something. I thought from the start that Harris looked familiar, but it wasn’t until I learned that Emilia Pinton’s son was working here that I connected it. Harris looks just like her. He’s her son, isn’t he?”

There are several nods throughout the room. A sad look has filled Jefferson’s eyes, like he’s remembering something from the past that still haunts him.

“Well Mrs. Ross, while you were going on your rant about how wonderful Harris is, you actually let some valuable evidence slip. You said that Harris was the one to get the ice for Rosie. Presumably, because you had your hands full making dinner. That was awfully kind of him, don’t you think?” He looked at Mrs. Ross again, who looked at Harris with an almost betrayed look, who was looking back at Jefferson angrily.

“Fine, you caught me. I poisoned the ice. I knew it would melt and poison his drink, but make it look like normal water.”

“But why?” Mrs. Ross asked.

“Because! He threw my mother out on the streets and didn’t even help her start a new life. He never cared about her; he never cared about anyone! You know it too,” he said bitterly. He looks at Mrs. Lindon, who looks away, not saying anything.

Jefferson glances at Harris before speaking. “I suppose you came along on the investigation just to keep me from suspecting you.”

Harris chuckles callously. “You have to admit, it was smart. I came along solely to keep suggesting that Mrs. Lindon was the murderer. I knew if I went along it would make me seem less suspicious. A murderer wouldn’t volunteer to investigate his own case.”

“Well, clearly it wasn’t smart enough,” Jefferson says coldly before turning to the officer, “You can take him away now.”

After Harris is led away, Rosie looks at Jefferson with wide eyes.

“I can’t believe you figured that out,” she says.

“Well, Rosie, it’s just something you learn as a detective. Things aren’t always, in fact, rarely are, as they seem.”

The End