‘I repeat, there is no such thing as a perfect murder. However smart a murderer might be, he always ends up making a mistake. We just have to be smart enough to look at it’, Detective John Paris said in his guest lecture.
‘Sir, you've served as a detective for 34 years now with a success rate of about 95.3 percent, which is a remarkable number. Are there any standard rules which you follow while solving the murder’, a student asked.
‘Every murder can be solved in three simple steps:
1. Motive,
2. Opportunity, and
3. The Murder weapon
If you connect these three dots, you will notice that they will lead you directly to the killer’
It was then that I heard a ticking sound. The intensity of sound was increasing with every passing second. I looked at other students in the auditorium but no one seemed to notice it. And then it became unbearable. It stopped only when I opened my eyes.
‘Damm! It was a dream’
I had attended one of his lectures which inspired many of my friends to take it up as a career. And now, one year later, the day I had always dreamed of, had finally arrived. Being late on the first day of work would be a very bad start for my career as a detective.
I had carefully laid out my grey suit the night before. I had set the alarm for 6:30 AM so that I would make it in time. The alarm had failed to go off.It was 7:30 AM.I panicked and rushed out of the bed to get dressed.
It was supposed to be my first day at work. I was going to join as an Assistant to the best detective in the town; Mr. John Paris.
I looked at my reflection in the mirror and found a 25 year old fair lady with a perfect figure and a confident face staring back at me.
‘Ashley Parker, you do look sexy in a suit!’I complemented myself as I wore my thick white framed spectacles.
I had half an hour to reach Mr. Paris’s residence. I had planned to take the metro to Rue Cassini, but now that was out of the question. I raced to get a taxi.
‘Rue Cassini?’ I panted. ‘5 Euros’, he demanded, having noticed that I was in a hurry.
‘It’s your day’, I said as I boarded the taxi, making it clear that I was in no mood for bargaining.
I arrived, breathless, at the office. It was an old building which could definitely use a renovation.
“Résidence de John Paris” the name plate, which lay beside the door,had read.
My knock on the door was answered by one Ms. Clark. She was a heavily built women with a very apparent French accent.
‘You must be Ms. Parker’ she said even as she invited me inside.
‘Mr. Paris has been expecting you for quite some time now’
I looked at my watch. ‘That’s a very polite way of saying that I am 20 minutes late’
You will find him on the first floor, second door on the right.
The old stair case which was crafted out of rose-wood was surprisingly strong.
When I reached the first floor I turned to right and found two doors, only one of them had a sign board which said “Detective John Paris”.
I knocked on that door and waited.
‘Come in’
‘Good Morning Sir’, I said as I entered.
‘It’s a great day, isn't it?’ he said looking outside the window behind the table.
I stood there in silence trying to comprehend his question.
‘Yes. It is, sir’, the words finally escaped my mouth.
He then turned around and looked at me with stern grey eyes. It felt as if he were evaluating me.
He was dressed in a black tuxedo which perfectly complimented his 50 year old muscular body.
He held a cigar in his right hand.His grey eyes which hid themselves behind his spectacles were deep and dark as if they were battling the past ghosts.
‘Ms. Parker, So why do you want to be a detective?’ he asked as he pointed me to sit down.
He remained standing near the window.
I took a couple of seconds to recollect the answer that I had rehearsed.
‘I have always believed that being a detective is the most exciting job. I've loved solving mysteries. I've been reading all possible mystery novels ever since I can remember. Maybe that’s what inspired me to take it up as a career….’, I started.
‘Why do you like mysteries?’ he cut me.
‘Because they excite me, Sir…’
‘You know why I am doing this job?’ he cut me again.
‘Because I hate mysteries. I hate solving a murder’, he said and gave a pause as if he wanted to stress on the words which he was about to speak.
‘Because, for me to solve a mystery, someone in this city has to die; and that is something which I’d like to avoid. I consider myself a cleaner. I clean the city and just because I am cleaning the city doesn't mean I have to like the dirt’
‘For me the most exciting day is when I have no case. And I shall rest only when this city is free of any homicide’, he said.‘I shall rest only when this city is clean’, he rephrased his final statement.
He then took a seat and gave me a file.
‘This is a file of my previous case, go through it and submit a report to me before you leave today’
I made no effort to hide my disappointment.
‘You weren't expecting this kind of work, were you?’he said, having noticed my dismay.
‘I dare say, yes. I was expecting more of an on-field assignment. Hunting for evidences, interrogating the suspects etc.’, I said.
‘Well, fortunately or unfortunately we have no murder to investigate today’, he shrugged.
No sooner did I open the file than I was interrupted by Ms. Clark.
‘Excuse me, Sir. May I come in’, Ms. Clark was standing near the door.
‘Yes, Ms. Clark?’
‘I just received a call from Tom. There’s been a homicide in 12 Main, Royal Circle’
‘OK, I am on it. Thank you, Ms. Clark. I’ll take it over from here’, he waited for Ms. Clark to leave.
‘From the next time be aware of what you wish for, Ms. Parker’, he warned me as he stood up and rushed out of the door signaling me to follow him.
***
‘The victim is one Mr. Douglas, a well-known businessman’, Tom said, before we entered the crime scene.
He then noticed me and extended his hand. ‘Good Morning. I am Tom Peterson. I have been assisting Mr. Paris in his investigation since 2 years’, he said.
‘Good Morning Sir, I am Ashley Parker’, I replied.
‘Ms. Parker, I hope you are fine with dead bodies. Some crime scene could be very disturbing’, Mr. Paris said as we entered the apartment of the victim which had now transformed into a crime scene.
The victim’s body lay on a wooden chair in front of a study table. His face wore a peaceful expression. His eyes were closed, his mouth was slightly open.
If I had witnessed this scene any other day I would believe that this man had fallen asleep while he was studying. But this was no other day. I was in a crime scene and this man was murdered.
‘There is no physical injury on the victim’s body, Sir’, Tom announced as he had scanned the place before we had arrived.
‘Well, that explains the absence of blood’, Mr. Paris said as he started taking a closer look of the victim’s body.
‘We will start off by scanning the whole place for finger prints’, he continued.
‘Before that, there is something you have to see’, Tom kept his voice low with an air of a magician who’s about to reveal a secret.
He pointed us towards a book which lay open on the study table. A red pen lay between the two pages of the opened book.
The book had the number “13” scribbled on it, in red ink.
‘What could the number 13 mean?’ I thought out loud.
‘It could mean many things. The number 13 is considered as a bad omen for a start’, Mr. Paris stated.
‘And then there is Friday the 13th being considered the unluckiest day in a month’, Tom added as Mr. Paris slipped the book and the pen in the evidence box.
‘I want the whole house swept for finger prints, especially this evidence’, Mr. Paris ordered pointing towards the evidence box.
‘Send the body for autopsy and ask Dr. Patel to speak with me once he finds something’, Mr. Paris said even as he examined the house for any other evidence.
‘Sir, the victim’s family is waiting for you. I thought you might want to speak with them’, Tom said.
‘Now, this is the most difficult part of my job’, Mr. Paris murmured as we walked into waiting hall.
‘I am sorry for your loss’ he started.
The victim’s family consisted of his mother and his younger sister. Both of their faces were laced with tears.
‘I am sorry for having this conversation with you right now, but can you think of anyone who can do this to Mr. Douglas’, he asked with concern.
‘No, he is a very good man….He was’, his mother stopped as tears started rolling down from her moist eyes.
‘You should be speaking with Samantha’, his sister suggested.
‘Who is Samantha?’ I asked.
‘She was married to my brother. They got divorced a couple of months back’, she said.
***
‘Samantha is one of the best Prosecutor in the town. And now the richest too’, Tom announced.
‘Richest?’ I exclaimed.
I have just had a look at Mr. Douglas’s will. Guess who is inheriting all his wealth?’
‘Samantha’
‘This will was made before they got divorced and hasn't been changed since then’
‘Now that their marriage has ended, I am sure Mr. Douglas would have considered changing his will’, Mr. Paris continued.
‘That sounds like a motive to me’
Mr. Paris had divided the white board into three vertical columns. One had the heading “Motive” written on it, the other had “Opportunity” and the last had “Murder Weapon”.
He placed Samantha’s photo under the Motive column.
‘Now, let’s see how the best prosecutor in the city defends herself’, Mr. Paris said.
‘She is waiting in the interrogation hall. But there is one glitch’, Tom said.
‘She wants to speak only with a lady in the grey suit’
Both Mr. Paris and Tom turned and looked square at me.And then, Mr. Paris gave me the permission to perform the first interrogation of my career.
‘Ms. Parker, be careful with her’, Mr. Paris said with an air of a father sending her daughter for what could be her last fight.
Ms. Samantha was one of the most elegant women I had ever seen. She was less beautiful and more attractive. She was one of the rare kinds who managed to look gorgeous even without smiling.
‘Good Evening, Ms. Douglas’, I started.
‘It’s Ms. Prairie now’
‘I made a boo boo.That is not a good start’
‘My apologies. Ms. Prairie how was your relationship with Mr. Douglas’
‘He was my ex-husband’, she said without any tinge of sorrow.
‘Where were you yesterday night, might I ask?’ I inquired.
‘I was asleep at my place’, she stated the obvious.
‘Can anyone vouch for it?’
‘I am afraid, no. Mr. Prairie is out of town and I was alone at home’
‘That’s very convenient’
She raised her eye brow and leaned forward
‘Let me remind you what happened. You married Mr. Douglas for his wealth. You got your name on his will, but then the young and beautiful lass that you are, you fell in love with Mr. Prairie. So you divorced Mr. Douglas. But then you would lose the wealth because now that you are no longer with Mr. Douglas he would definitely consider changing his will. The only way to keep the wealth for yourself and marry Mr. Prairie is to kill Mr. Douglas before he could get his will changed’, I said while Ms. Prairie was listening to me with undivided attention.
‘That’s a good move by Ms. Parker. She is attacking Samantha which might force her to a confession’, Tom said from behind the one-way mirror.
‘It’s a good move alright. But is it good enough?’ Mr. Paris said trying to read what’s going on in Samantha’s mind.She wanted to speak only with Ashley because Ashley is an amateur.
‘Give me a confession and I will see to it that you will get a lesser time in prison’, I continued
‘That’s a wonderful theory. And very believable too. But then why would you need a confession? Wait a second you can’t prove it, can you?’ she said leaning back and crossing her legs, with an air of a warrior who had just won the battle for his country.
‘Now, unless you have something substantial to prove your theory I think I have the right to leave’, she said, thus concluding my first and the most disastrous interrogation.
***
‘Hello Dr. Patel. I am Ashley Parker. I am an Assistant Detective’, I said.
‘Hello Ms. Parker. I am Dr. Patel. I take care of the autopsy. I am the weird guy who has conversations with the dead’, he winked.
‘In that case, please tell me that the victim told you who killed him’, Mr. Paris said.
‘The victim’s body isn't talking much, it’s more like an introvert’, Dr. Patel joked.
‘I mean seriously, where did you find this guy? This is the cleanest murder I have ever seen’
‘What do you mean?’
‘This guy died somewhere between 2AM–3AM today. And he died because he couldn't breathe. Period’
‘Would you care to expound on how exactly he died?’
‘I don’t know! The patient has no physical injuries, no injected poison in his blood stream or in his digestive system. No medical history of heart attack or asthma. All the essential organs are as fine as they should be for a 35 year old. Bottom line; I do not know what killed this man’
‘It’s as if he voluntarily stopped breathing unto his death; which, in medical terms is impossible’, Dr. Patel concluded.
‘What do you mean it’s impossible? I can stop my breath for about minute’ I said.
‘You didn't hear me well, Ms. Parker. You can very well stop your breath; and the time for which you can stop breathing can vary anywhere from 1 - 3 minutes. But there is a limit to that; your brain won’t allow you to stop breathing till death’, he said.
‘Then what on earth killed Mr. Douglas?’ Tom gave words to our thoughts.
***
‘Sir, the crime scene came clean. No finger prints were found anywhere in the house. The pen and the book were wiped too. The murderer has gone out of the way to stay clean’ Tom said.
‘Sir, all the doors are closing in. With every passing minute it’s becoming more difficult to solve this case’, I said.
‘Don’t lose hope yet. We still have one lead’, Mr. Paris said as he made a forth column on the white board.
He named it “Evidence” and placed the picture of the number “13” under it.He stared at it for a long time. It seemed as if he was doing some deep thinking.
‘Who must have written this? The victim? No, because everyone has a style of writing numbers. I have cross-checked the victim’s handwriting from his will. He starts writing the number 3 from the top. This is evident because an ink pen blots more where you start writing and flow becomes more streamlined as we continue writing without lifting the pen. But this note is different; here the writer started writing the number 3 from the bottom. That means it is written by the killer. Now comes the next important question. When did the killer write this note? Was it before he murdered or after he murdered Mr. Douglas? Either way he left the book in front of the victim’s body. That means he wanted it to be found by the investigator. The only investigator in the town is me. Oh my god! This number is not about the victim or the murderer, it’s about me. It’s a statement pointed at me. What could it mean?’
***
‘Holy mother of God! I know what the number “13” means’, Mr. Paris said as he moved back with fear and took support of the table.It was as if he had seen a ghost on the white board.
‘What does it mean, sir?’ Tom asked.
Mr. Paris took a piece of paper and starting scribbling.
No of cases I have handled: 257
Success rate: 95.33
No of cases solved: 245
No of unsolved cases: 12
‘I still don’t get it, Sir’, I said after looking at the paper.
‘This note is a challenge from the killer. It’s his way of telling me that this will be the 13 one’, Mr. Paris said his fearful eyes still staring at the white board.
‘This is indeed the perfect murder which I was dreading all my career’, he thought.
***
The next day when I entered the office I found Mr. Paris staring at the picture of the victim’s body.
‘Good Morning, Ms. Parker’, he called out without looking at me.Tom, who was deep in thoughts, was standing a couple of feet behind Mr. Paris.
‘So, Ms. Parker, I was asking Tom to think about what could have possibly killed Mr. Douglas’
‘I am posing the same question to you. Keep in mind the fact that we are dealing with a smart criminal here. So, try to come up with some unconventional theories’, Mr. Paris said.
‘Sir, I have heard some legends about some spiritual leaders who lived a couple of centuries back. They could supposedly hold their breath for days together. And when they did that, people had presumed that they had died, but then after a couple of days they walked out of their grave’, Tom proposed.
‘That’s an interesting theory Tom’, Mr. Paris started even as I moved closer to the white board to have closer look at the picture of victim’s body.
‘So, you are suggesting that Mr. Douglas can walk out of the morgue any time now?’ Mr. Paris smiled.
‘No, Sir. It’s just a legend. And the Legend also has it that these spiritual leaders gained immense control over their mind, and body alike, by meditating for years together’, Tom replied.
‘Think of some other theories Tom, this one is not quiet practical’, Mr. Paris lashed out.
Now, it was my turn.
‘The victim’s face is very calm and composed. It is as if he died while he was enjoying a beautiful dream in his sleep’, I paused.
‘Where are you going with this, Ms. Parker?’
‘I am saying that the victim was in a very relaxed mood when he was killed. Some sort of meditation, or…’ I started.
‘Or hypnotherapy?’ Mr. Paris suggested.
‘That is one option worth exploring’, Tom said in an excited tone.
‘But can someone hypnotize you and make you stop breathing until death?’ I asked.
‘There’s only way to find out’, Mr. Paris said.
He called for Ms. Clark immediately and asked her to book an appointment with Dr. Thomas, a leading hypnotist of the town, at the earliest.
***
Ms. Clark managed an appointment with Dr. Thomas at 7:30 in the evening. Tom went to crime scene to see if he could find any other evidence which could give them a lead. Mr. Paris and I went to meet Dr. Thomas.
Dr. Thomas was an old friend of Mr. Paris. The receptionist had informed us that Dr. Thomas allowed only one visitor at a time. So I decided to wait outside while Mr. Paris went in.
‘Good Evening Mr. Paris what would you like to have’, Dr. Thomas asked.
‘Nothing. Not today. I am here regarding a case. I need to get some things cleared about your area of proficiency’, Mr. Paris said.
‘You have some questions about hypnotism? Shoot them at me right away’, Dr. Thomas replied.
Mr. Paris showed him the picture of the victim’s dead body and said, ‘We are suspecting that this man might have been hypnotized and then forced to stop breathing unto death. Is it plausible theory?’
‘As far as my knowledge can stretch, that is not possible’, Dr. Thomas replied.
‘Hypnotherapy is a psychotherapy used to tap the subconscious mind. Sometimes we can very well make the subject do some things which he can do even otherwise. But we can’t make him do things which are not in control of his brain’
‘For example; after hypnotizing a subject, I can order his brain to do some simple tasks which are stored in his subconscious brain, like walking across the room; it is more like sleep walking. But I can’t have him fly across the room for obvious reasons’
‘Similarly in this case, stopping one’s breath unto death is something which the brain is not programmed to do on its own. Hence the theory is not plausible’, he said.
‘Thanks a lot for your help, Dr. Thomas’, Mr. Paris said.
***
‘What did Dr. Thomas say?’ I asked when we reached the office.
‘He didn't agree with our theory. According to him even if we hypnotize a person we can’t make him stop breathing unto death’
‘I agree with him, but not completely’, I said.
‘There are three levels in any hypnotherapy. In the first level you ask the subject simple questions. Something like, what is your name? Where were you born? etc.’, I started.
‘The next stage is where the actual therapy starts. This is where we get access to the subject’s subconscious brain’, I gave a pause to check if I had the undivided attention of Mr. Paris.
‘But there is a third phase too, wherein you can make the subject do certain simple tasks which are stored in his subconscious memory’, I continued.
‘Yes, Dr. Thomas told me about this. But how do you…’ Mr. Paris started.
‘Making the subject stop his breath unto death is something which is not stored in the subconscious brain. So the brain can’t stop the breathing on its own. However, we can achieve it by indirectly inhibiting the inhaled air from reaching the lungs’, I said.
‘Indirectly?’ Mr. Paris inquired.
‘Yes, for example, we could make the subject role his tongue backwards so that it will block the inhaled air from entering into his pharynx and larynx’, she continued.
‘Within the first 5 seconds, the subject’s lungs will expand in order to pull in more air, but in vain. This is when a sharp tinge of pain diverges from the subject’s lungs. Since the subject’s mind is completely under the control of the hypnotist, he won’t be able to shout or cry in pain. This is the worst way to kill someone, where in the victim is not even allowed to shout or cry as the pain eats him from the inside. The subject will maintain a clam and poised expression even as his organs start giving up one by one with every passing second. The agony ends only with the arrival of death and once the subject dies in silence the hypnotist loses control over his dead brain’
‘Now, all the hypnotist needs to do is to open the subject’s mouth forcefully and pull out his tongue back to its normal position. Fortunately enough, for the hypnotist, it’s almost impossible to get the finger prints from the victim’s tongue’
‘And, this is how it’s possible’, I concluded.
Mr. Paris’s mouth fell open in bewilderment, ‘How do you know all this?’ he asked.
‘I know this because this is exactly how I killed Mr. Douglas’, I confessed.
***
‘Ms. Ashley Parker, why did you kill Mr. Douglas?’ he asked after being sure that I wasn't kidding.
‘Do you remember Mr. Paris, in of your lectures you had said that a perfect murder is impossible. Most of my friends took your lecture as an inspiration. I, however, took it as a challenge. And the three dots you asked us connect; Motive, opportunity and murder weapon. My murder has none of the above. I chose a victim at random, so there was no motive. And since I do not have any motive you wouldn’t check if I had an opportunity to kill him; which I did, by the way. And my murder weapon, as I had already explained, was the victim’s brain’ I said.
‘That, Mr. Paris, is a simple recipe for a perfect murder!’ I said, the pride evident in my tone.
Mr. Paris looked at me in astonishment.‘You were playing with us all the time’, he had to put in extra effort to give a voice to his thoughts.‘Why did you join as my assistant, in the first place?’
‘This game, which I had planned, was bound to be very exciting, I didn't want to miss out on any part of it. And the only way I could be a part of this game at every point of time is by playing for both sides. So, once I had murdered Mr. Douglas, I came and joined as your assistant’, I said, mentally admiring my own master plan.
‘You are one smart criminal’, he said with disgust in his tone.
‘Guilty as charged; smart is, after all, the new sexy’, I laughed.‘Should I tell you a fun fact? When I was a kid I always wanted to be the most beautiful women on earth. But I later learned that being beautiful was not good enough; because beauty is a temporary asset. Every beautiful girl will become fat; eventually she will grow old and ugly. So, I chose to be the smartest person instead. I made books my best friends, I gave up all my friends since they were all nothing but foolish. And look where I have reached now. I have executed a perfect murder, successfully. I have outsmarted you. I am the smartest’, I continued.
‘At the risk of repeating myself I must say,Smart is the new sexy!’ I laughed louder, this time at my victory.
‘You are not smart; you just claim you are smart. What you are, is just an antisocial. You pretend that you do not care about anyone anymore. You just need help. Let me help you. Surrender yourself and I will see to it that you get well soon’
‘Don’t complicate things Mr. Paris, I just hate people; so much that I can pick anyone at random and kill them’, I said.
‘You remind me of what I was, 20 years back. It’s just that we are on the opposite sides. I also, very much like you, considered myself to be the smartest detective in the town. But let me tell you one thing. You are not the smartest. You have just outsmarted a 50 year old man. And let me tell you a secret; being smart is also not good enough. You know why? Because there is always someone who is smarter than you. I found my match in you. You too will find your match sometime, and trust me on this; when you do find him. He will bring you down’, Mr. Paris warned me.
Mr. Paris knew how this was going to end. As much as he loved winning every game, he was tired. He was old. He always knew his winning streak would end one day; and that day had finally arrived.‘I will leave this battle for some other day; for someone else will continue from where I have stopped. Someone else will start cleaning this city’, he thought.
‘But I must say, Mr. Paris, I was impressed by your deductions from the number ‘13’. This number will be remembered as the number which marked your end and therefore my beginning’, I said.
‘And regarding what you said about me meeting my match; someone who is smarter than me; I shall be waiting for that day. I would love to fight him. But for now, adios Mr. Paris’, I concluded.
***
The next day when Tom and I entered Mr. Paris’s office, we found him lying lifeless on his chair. The crime scene resembled that of Mr. Douglas’s case in every possible way. The only difference was that the book in front of Mr. Paris’s dead body had the number “14” scribbled on it.
***
an art, by
Shashank
