Who Killed Bob?
Stephen Craig
Who Killed Bob?
(The First Dr. Jacobs Mystery)
By Stephen Craig
Copyright 2013 Stephen Craig
Revised Edition
Thank you for your support.
All characters in this story are fictitious and any resemblance to real persons, living or dead, is purely coincidental
Contents
1. Simply The Beginning.
2. Her Husband.
3. His Wife.
4. Inspector Johnson And Doctor Jacobs.
5. The Ice Pick And The Poison.
6. His Sister.
7. The Hammer And The Knife.
8. The Body And The Note.
9. The Gun, The Cigarette and The Basement.
10. His Brother.
11. Mr Bran, The Solicitor Man.
12. A Walk In The Garden.
13. Celery And Rhubarb.
14. So, Who Killed Bob?
15. After The Events.
Was it her husband?
Was it his wife?
Was it an ice pick,
A hammer or a knife?
Killed by a sister, jealous with rage?
Murdered by a brother?
To begin, turn the page.
1. Simply The Beginning.
The outside environment was extremely cold. The last month had been one of the coldest since records began and the bitter winter weather had shown little sign of abating. Both snow and ice had dominated the landscape and the one singular road that lead up to the house which stretched over a small precarious wooden bridge, was extremely treacherous. During the days where the sun had shone brightly in the clear skies, the ice had thawed and dripped and as this in turn had frozen, large and small icicles had formed and these now hung around the many parts of the outer layer of the house. This included outside of the French windows of the patio area which led into the study that belonged to Robert Blackmore. Yesterday there had been seven large icicles but at this moment in time there were only five.
Inside the house there were a number of rooms. Four large bedrooms, a kitchen, a sitting room, a billiard-room and a bathroom. There was an attic at the top that was very dusty and at the bottom of the house was a reasonably large basement. Currently there was no electricity running in the basement but with the issues of the other rooms aside and at this moment in time - there is only one real room of interest. That room is a study and more particularly it is the study of Robert Blackmore. To his friends and family he was quite simply known as ’Bob’ but at this moment in time Bob was unable to be of any assistance.
Bob was dead.
Of this there can be no doubt. He was not pretending and his body was cold and lifeless as it sat motionless in the eerie silence of his study. The room itself was partially darkened and the only light came from two sources. Firstly it came through the large French-windowed doors out to the patio and this light came in because one of the heavy crimson curtains that were usually drawn at night, had been ripped from its hooks and now lay pooled in the far corner of the room. The patio doors themselves were locked and bolted from the inside.
The main door to the room, which was made from a heavy oak material, was closed and a key was securely in the lock. Unsurprisingly this door was locked too.
Bob’s leather chair was of a large and high-backed Queen Anne style with speckled leather and brass studs and was pulled a little way back from his desk - which itself was half-way towards the heavy bookshelves which were situated at the back of the room. In this way his body was shrouded in darkness.
The second source of light came from a long brass desk lamp that shone upon the red leather face of his writing desk and upon his desk were a pen, an ashtray and cigarette and a photograph of his family. These items were usually here. There was also an overturned drinking glass of which its contents had been spilt across the corner of the desk and were now dripping hypnotically onto the rug below.
Also on his desk were an ice-pick, a claw-hammer, a kitchen knife, a bottle of prussic acid and a hand gun. These items were not usually here and in fact none of these items had ever been in this room before the events of this evening.
Against a wall in the room was an occasional table upon which sat two Victorian celery vases. Light shone onto the first and it contained celery and a clear liquid which could be assumed to be water. The second vase had a shadow cast upon it and if you looked quickly in passing you might assume that it too contained celery and water.
In the other corner of the room was a drinks cabinet. On the top of this cabinet was an open bottle of Amaretto and a Tantalus designed for two decanters. One decanter was inside the Tantalus and the apparatus was most definitely locked. The second decanter was inside the open door of the cabinet. It appeared in this dim light to contain a dark fluid and the glass stopper was sitting at its side almost as if a fine wine had been left to breathe. Also inside of the cabinet was an ice bucket which contained (one would assume) ice that had already began to melt. The liquid that was pooling in the bucket was of a dark colour.
Where the moonlight shone into the room and cast light upon the dark wooden parquet flooring something could be seen upon the floor. If you were observant and took the time to give this item a closer inspection, you would see that it was a steel nail and that it was slightly bent out of shape.
There was also a corner table with a type-writer sitting upon it and there was a sheet of paper in the rollers which had typed words upon it. The words simply read:
It Had To Be.
B.
Bob usually stayed late in his study and he and his wife slept in separate bedrooms. Therefore at this moment it is true to say that it would be a sensible conclusion to draw that she would NOT know that he had NOT gone to bed.
That is unless she had actually killed him.
Either way, the fact is that Bob was dead and that his body would not be discovered until the morning. Very likely not for at least another six hours.
Therefore, that is where this particular story shall begin…
#
2. Her Husband.
…six hours later.
Roberta Blackmore’s husband was already dead although at this moment in time we must assume that she was not aware of this fact. If you do choose to believe that she did know and that she had been the person that killed him then that would be rather a strange assumption because you have not even met her or yet come to hear her part in this story. Have a little patience and the truth will be discovered - just not at this point.
Let us continue the story.
As alluded to several times previously, Roberta Blackmore’s husband, Robert Blackmore - also known as ‘Bob’, was dead. He was downstairs very cold and very stiff.
Robert Blackmore had lived quite a relaxed and relatively uneventful life and was not the sort of person that you may have expected to have had an enemy. In fact to all extent and purposes of the outside world he did not have any enemies. Certainly not in the conventional sense. He was, or had been, forty-eight years of age and he had made his fortune in life through hard work and a love of science.
In his relatively short life he had made several prominent discoveries in his field of which a number had been sold onto large pharmaceutical companies and these had proven to be very profitable indeed.
Bob had always loved chemistry and both he and his sister shared a great interest in the subject - so much so that he kept his own chemical cabinet in the basement downstairs so that he could perform experiments whenever he so wished. With the contacts that he had built in the industry he was able to build up a significant collection of chemicals and had done so in such a way that questions were never really asked. Paperwork was signed but the footprints would and could never be traced back.
In all honesty, Bob kept this cabinet locked at all times. Whilst he liked to experiment he was not reckless with other people’s safety. The basement door was securely locked and the key to the chemical cabinet was locked also and kept on his person at all times.
Only somebody in his own immediate family could have ever had the opportunity to take the key or make a copy without him noticing. But why would anybody want access to his chemical cabinet?
It would have only been in recent months that an attentive person may have noticed a change in his habits. He had cut down a little on the amount he drank and he just had the one cigarette now. He had changed his lifestyle a little to what may have been considered healthier but he never realised just how little time he had remaining on the Earth. In fact until the last moments of his life and until the last seconds as he gasped for breath, he never realised just how much he wanted to live.
But at that point death was inevitable and nothing that had happened beforehand could be changed.
Bob had died alone in his study whilst looking at a photograph of his family. His wife Roberta. His Brother Bobby and his sister Barbara were the only people that he had ever cared for.
#
3. His Wife.
…six hours before.
Roberta Blackmore, also affectionately called ’Bobbi’ by her family, was not asleep. In fact she was very much awake and fully clothed. She was also ever so slightly out of breath and sitting here at her dressing table, a table which was filled with scent bottles and make-up, she was thinking. They had argued earlier in the day about ‘it’. It was subject that he hated discussing and Bob had shouted at her until she thought he was going to pass out. His face had gone bright red and she knew that he must have been feeling stressed because he pulled out his cigarette and started puffing. She had known the conversation was over when he had knocked back his glass of brandy and stormed out of the room to go and continue his work in his study. She had heard him lock the door but was not at all surprised because she knew that he liked to work in secret. Bob liked to keep much of his work secret and she wished that she knew more of his secrets. This one in particular was hard enough to keep away from the rest of the family, but Bob had insisted. She knew that he would likely be going through notes and that then he would end up going down to the chemical cabinet which he kept locked and closed in the basement. He had spent his life with a love of the sciences and especially chemistry. If only he loved her as much as he loved those bloody chemical bottles.
Now, lying here, a thought crossed her mind. It was malevolent but she had after all, been drinking. The walls were pretty solid in the house and sound would not easily carry upstairs. She had decided to act and now fully dressed, she opened her bedroom door and went out. On the landing she waited and listened but there was nothing. Nobody around. Barbara and Bobby must be sleeping.
Downstairs, she stopped and put her ear to the study door. She thought that she could hear Bob in there and guessed that he was probably reading and having a drink. She would not have been surprised if he did not also have a cigarette in his mouth. If she was going to do this she needed to act now. Looking up and down the corridor, she hesitated for only a moment before making her decision. He would be very sorry that he had not give her more attention.
She opened the door and set out to get her revenge before returning to her bedroom. No attention was drawn to a perfume bottle that had been sat upon her dressing table for the last three months but was not there now. It was actually sitting upon a desk in the study below…
It was almost nine o’clock in the morning and the family had all been gathered and informed of events. They had been informed that Bob was dead. He had seemingly been discovered by Roberta who had been informed by Anna that Bob was not in his room. The key to the study had been nestled in the lock of the door and she had entered the room with Anna to find her husband dead in his chair. Nothing more or less. No tears then, Just shock. Just shock…
With the slight passing of time there was now the socially required level of shock amongst all of them. Suitable tears and large glasses of brandy for their nerves. Anna the housemaid had made a call through to the local police station and she had been informed that somebody would be with them as quickly as possible.
Roberta Blackmore now looked extremely upset. She had never wanted it to end like this and in the stark reality of the morning she realised that Bob would have died knowing her anger. He would have died knowing that she was unhappy with his decision and her opinion was that he should not have kept it a secret. She had loved him but things like that should not be hidden. She held tightly onto her glass of brandy and took a large gulp. It was going to be a very long day. The police would be here soon and it would all have to come out anyway. In hindsight it had all been so futile…
It was not long after when the housemaid walked to the door to answer the ringing bell. Two men stood outside, one was obviously a police constable. The second man removed his hat and opening his overcoat took out his identification and passed it across.
‘I am Inspector Johnson. We have had a report that there is a body here’!
The maid ushered them in and as the constable passed by her he added:
‘Sorry it took so long to get here. The bridge was down and we needed to get ropes to cross’.
She took them to the comfortable seats in the hallway and asked them to wait a moment while she informed Mrs Blackmore that they had arrived.
#
4. Inspector Johnson And Doctor Jacobs.
Roberta Blackmore was attentively speaking to a very nice police constable and with a little irritation to Inspector Johnson from the local village police station. They were seated in the finely furnished sitting-room of the house which was decorated in an assortment of light creams and pale blue colours and it was certainly not a place that welcomed dirt. Inspector Johnson must have trodden in some slush outside and there were now several faint footprints that stretched across the room to the settee that he sat upon. It was from this mess that Bobbi Blackmore’s irk stemmed but she pushed it from her thoughts as she turned to the Inspector and spoke:
‘Firstly, Inspector, You must know that I loved my husband very much’.
‘I’m sure you did, Mrs Blackmore’ the Inspector looked into her eyes. ‘I know that it will be painful, but I do need to ask some questions’.
‘Please, Inspector, ask your questions and I will answer them to the best of my ability’. She smiled and flickered her eyelashes.
‘When was the body discovered’?
‘It was around seven-thirty when Anna came up to my room’
‘Anna’? He wrote the name into his notebook
‘Our housemaid’. In the background, the door-bell rang.
‘And how long has she been with you, Mrs Blackmore’?
‘It has been at least twelve years. It was just a year or so before my husband and I were married’. She took a handkerchief from her cuff and dabbed at her eyes.
‘I am very sorry Mrs Blackmore and I know that this is difficult’. he was aware of footsteps in the hallway and a knock at the door. The housemaid who had shown him in, who he presumed was Anna, came into the room and announced another visitor:
‘Doctor Jacobs, madam’. She left and a grey haired gentleman walked into the room. His confident stance and smart blue suit and tie showed him to be a man of manners. Inspector Jacobs recognised him as the local police doctor and surgeon and he nodded to him and spoke:
‘Mrs Blackmore, may I introduce Doctor Jacobs.
‘I am very sorry for your loss madam’ The Doctor smiled and bowed his head.
‘Please Mrs Blackmore, if you could continue’? Inspector Johnson’s spoke.
She looked away from the Doctor and towards the police Inspector and with a slight smile, she spoke:
‘As I was saying, Anna has been with us for around twelve years. She came to me this morning to say that Bob was not in his bedroom when she had taken his breakfast up’
As she was speaking she rubbed at her hand and Doctor Jacobs noted it was bandaged with a fresh bandage.
‘Seven-thirty. Bob was usually an early riser but he would have spoken to Anna the moment he got up. His usual time for getting downstairs would be six-thirty’.
‘And he didn’t wake you’?
‘We slept in separate bedrooms Inspector. We had done so for many years’.
‘So Anna informed you that he was not in his room’?
‘Yes, it was all very strange’
‘So what did you do next’?
‘We checked around the house briefly and when we came to the study we found that the door was locked’.
‘From the inside’?
‘No, the key was in the lock on the outside’.
‘And then’?
‘We went inside and there he was. Pale, colourless, cold. Sitting in his chair…’ her voice trailed off and she began to cry’.
‘I am very sorry Mrs Blackmore. I know this must be extremely hard for you’. Inspector Johnson smiled, ’is the key to the study still in the door’?
‘No, I have it - I locked it when we came out’. She removed the key from her purse and gave it to him.
