Murder at Kolt-Headquarters – Part Two

In Part One, Kolt’s Special Lockdown Edition was being guest-edited by the world-famously tempermental glamour model Carolina de’Longhi.  But she had gone too far in her demands, and someone had killed her.  Suspicions were running high as the police investigation continued.  Charles takes up the story.

Boxer was waiting for me at my front gate.  His turban had turned from white to a pale blue in the evening twilight.

“Charles, I have been with the police commissioner all afternoon.  I have permission to tell you what we have discussed.”

“Must I promise to tell no one, living or dead?  Just give me a quick summary, if it will keep you from bursting.”

“This is serious, Charles.  That is why I have been consulted.  Obviously, a woman has been murdered.  We know only certain characteristics about the killer, which I am NOT allowed to disclose.  The rest of the story I may divulge, however.  The building doors were not locked that afternoon, and there was no doorman, no patrol before the curfew hour.  The guard who checked later said that the outer doors were locked.  The victim had a key.”

“What about the hotel staff?  No one wondered where she was?”

“There is a night entrance which she had used each night before.  She did not appear for breakfast, obviously, and her bed had not been slept in.  The police do not think she returned to the hotel before she was killed.”

“That’s enough for now, Boxer.  I need a clear head for tomorrow.”

“Oh?  Why?  If I might ask.”

“I’ve got a Zoom meeting with colleagues from work, and I must look sharp – and be sharp.”

“And I must look for something sharp – I am ready to scalp this awful hair off my head.”

The Zoom meeting went well, and I was set to head over to Boxer’s house, when I saw him waving at me from the old woman’s window across the street.  Both had facemasks on, but Boxer was not turbanned as usual.  The woman’s husband was the third in the trio of wavers.  Boxer signalled for me to wait, and I soon heard the doorbell. 

“Charles!  Look at my beautiful haircut!  Is it not a marvel of shapeliness?  But – I must ring the police as soon as I tell you – I have solved the murder!  And all thanks to the hairdressing skills of the old couple across the way.  But I think you would enjoy coming along, being in on the kill.  Be ready!”

Boxer had telephoned the police, who had notified the KOLT staff to return to work the next day.  I had heard only whispers as I tried to listen in.  Three police cars pulled up to our houses that next afternoon, and we all headed to Postgasse, where the KOLT entrance was.

The staff were all there, the police commissioner taking charge of the meeting.  We were all excitedly nervous, but only Boxer and I knew that one of the staff was the killer.

“I have here the murder weapon – this quite magnificent pair of paper shears.  I have also a sheet of magic paper, which will reveal the murderer – or murderess.”

Paul, the editor-in-chief, laughed nervously.  “Magic paper, eh?  Perhaps we should print KOLT on it in future.”

“We shall see, sir.  Now, if you would like to go first – just cut a thin strip off the sheet of paper with these scissors.  That’s right.  Good.  Now, you next.  Good.  And now you.  Fine.  And you, Miss?”

Maggie dropped the paper and looked ready to faint.  Adrian picked the sheet up and handed it to her.  She cut the next strip of paper off.  The sheet was getting smaller at each cut.  Then only Adrian had still to cut the paper.

But something was wrong.  He couldn’t do it.  The scissors didn’t cut.  Instead they merely folded the paper.

The commissioner spoke up.  “Oh, I’m sorry!  My fault.  We’ve been using the wrong scissors.  These here are the murder weapon.”  And he pulled out an identical pair (well, nearly identical) and told Adrian, “Here, you try these, Mr Portmann.”  Two policemen appeared at the door.  Adrian hesitated, sweat beading his brow.  Finally, he took the second pair of scissors and cut a strip from the sheet quite easily.

Adrian still held the weapon in his hand.  His eyes widened as he calculated the risks he could take.  Then he dropped the scissors to the floor with an exhausted sigh.  Maggie moved over to Paul and put her hand in his, whispering, “I thought you had done it.”

       *                     *                     *                    *

“Now, where was I?”  Boxer had broken off his monologue to refill my glass.

“Getting your hair cut.”

“Oh, yes.  Did you know that both Herr and Frau Etz from across are retired hairdressers?”

“How did you find that out?”

“I saw him outside with a new haircut, and I asked where he had it done.  He said his wife cuts his hair and he cuts hers.  Needless to say, I booked an appointment on the spot.  They were ever so friendly.  And, do you know what?”

“What?”

“Charles, do you remember when Frau Etz waved back at you last month?  What hand was she using?”

“I don’t remember that much detail.”

“Well, it was her left hand.  She is left-handed.  You see, she had put down her scissors when doing my hair, and her husband wanted to take a snip, but he couldn’t use her scissors.  She has left-handed scissors, and he’s right-handed.”

“I think I see.  Go on.”

“That one clue the police had to go on in the murder was that the stab wound to the neck was inflicted by a left-handed action, given the angle, the position, and so on.  So, I had the police check the weapon, and they were indeed left-handed scissors.”

“So, the murderer was Frau Etz in disguise?”

“Charles!  I think your brain needs a trim.  Do be serious.  Oh dear.  Now I cannot get that image of Frau Etz out of my head.”

“I’m sorry, Boxer.  Shall I try to figure out the rest?  Left-handed fatal stab, by left-handed killer, with left-handed scissors.  And all the police needed, in order to extract a confession, was to expose a left-handed KOLT staffer.”

“Excellent, Charles!  And Adrian was obviously left-handed.  Think of some of the victim’s complaints about his office – lamp on the wrong side, pencil sharpener, as well.  Books arranged oddly, things turned around.  None of these details is conclusive alone, but added together, they pointed to sinistrality.”

“But what was the motive?”

“Irma Schuh, alias Carolina de’Longhi, had been blackmailing Adrian for years over an earlier matter of bigamy.  He had been trying to get her to stop and took every chance he could to be near her.  Evidently, this time she taunted him to breaking point.”

“But that makes no sense, Boxer.”

“A mind full of revenge and lust for control is not always a sensible mind.  He had returned to the office thinking only to convince her to stop the blackmail.  Instead, she laughed in his face and left the office.  He went into a rage and picked up the scissors and stabbed her from behind.”

“But what about fingerprints?”

“Adrian was smart enough not to wipe them off.  Of course his fingerprints were on the scissors – they were his.  Not premeditated murder, no, but meditated, nonetheless – contemplated, shall we say.”

“A cowardly thing to do!” “Perhaps, but we all have a breaking point, Charles.  Now, shall I trim your hair for you?”

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