Midnight's Tragedy

Detective Charles Osbourn was sitting in his armchair, sipping coffee from a decorated earthen mug on a regular Thursday morning, in the company of his tape recorder when the telephone rang. He and his wife had become immune to it ringing every morning, exactly at this hour. Despite submitting tens of written applications for a mistaken swapping of numbers with the news agency in the directory, nobody cooperated to make the desired changes. Although it was no news that Charles himself could get anything done, he preferred not to misuse his status for menial chores.

The retired Head of Security for the Royal Treasury and a detective for almost as long as he could recall, the Osbourn family was one of the most talked-about houses in town, owing to his fame. The chronicles of the detective’s past cases were as familiar with even small children, as their curriculum. He was a man of resilience and had a sixth sense when it came to mysterious happenings. He could propound perspectives that even the criminals would have missed. He was a man of fewer words who despised social obligations but nobody could recount observations better than him. That is primarily why the last of the royal descendant in the line of the Purtova clan, also the town mayor and an aristocrat, trusted him with his life. Mrs Rita Osbourn now worked as the head keeper of the Villa, on Charles's recommendation, as his fame was not enough to feed them their daily bread among other things.

The phone would ring thrice every morning, followed by utter silence around the house. However, that morning, it kept on ringing. Mrs Osbourn picked it up, looking rather tired. She spoke hurriedly as she had to rush to check on the arrangements of the town’s biggest wedding. The man on the other side requested for Charles. It was the head of security of the Villa. She would have asked him for an appointment reference, but it concerned the family his husband had served all his life, diligently. She hesitated for a moment but signalled her husband. 

 ----

The town of Cremary was asleep when Adele Purtova, the people’s princess and the only legal heir of Mayer Antonio Purtova, breathed her last. A brutal murder took place in the Villa just a day before her wedding to the Russian doctor, Vladimir Ivanov. It was believed that even the moon turned away and sobbed the entire night, hiding in a blanket of dark clouds, almost flooding the town. 

“He’s here.” informed the guard to the head of security. Jonah himself descended to accompany the detective upstairs. He greeted Charles like a disciple bowed his head in front of his master and followed after him. The place was no less familiar to detective Osbourn than his dwelling. He knocked outside the mayor’s bedroom. Rumi Purtova answered. Antonio was lying inside the covers, an arm on his head, while Rumi stood by her husband, wiping her cheeks.

“I’m so sorry for your loss.”

“It’s as much yours as it is ours.” the mayor said in a low voice. He sat up and patted on the side of the bed, looking at Charles with teary eyes. He walked up and sat on the corner, facing his oldest friend. Antonio never considered him anything less than family. He was involved in all their affairs and catered to every requirement like a brother. Although Mrs Osbourn called them ‘fake shows’ for not paying her husband adequately, Charles had no complaints. 

“Please do whatever you have to. I don’t want my daughter’s soul to rest uneasily.”

“I bet it was that boy all along. He fought with her over giving up her wealth” exclaimed Rumi, sobbing into her handkerchief.

“I’m here now madam. I will leave no stone unturned to do right by the princess.” Charles assured the mayor and got up to leave. Jonah followed. When he was sure they were alone in the stairway, he asked Jonah to tighten and alert the security at and around the Villa. 

 ----

He walked straight to the spot of murder. Adele’s room was already sealed by the town police. “Detective!” greeted a police officer. “Didn’t think you’d show up soon so we did a little investigation ourselves.” Charles discarded his subtle remarks and stepped inside, carrying a copy of the investigation report. 

“Throat slit, murder weapon missing, time of death – uncertain” he murmured the facts to himself. He saw the victim’s body on the bed; mouth wide open, eyes that had lost their sparkle and skin paler than the colour of her walls. The sheets were soaked with blood that flowed from the slit open throat. Her golden locks were drenched in it too. 

“We investigated the housekeeper who came to take the laundry from the room. Her scream woke the palace and the guards came in.” 

“So, the princess’s room had no security through the night?” interrupted Charles.

“She didn’t like the guards hovering around her room at night” Jonah justified.

Charles walked around the room alone, trying to remember all that he inferred. The windows of her room were shut from inside which meant that the killer used the door. The sheets weren’t crumpled and her legs lay straight, meaning no signs of struggle. They would still have to search for fingerprints, but it seemed useless to him since the handle of the door was cleaner than the door itself, which meant this killer wouldn’t have left a trace of fingerprints. There was no dirt on the floorboard, neither any impression of sweat. This could only mean one thing. “They covered the soles of their shoes,” he whispered, looking at the wall with the portrait of the to-be bride.

There was one thing certain about the case though, something that blazed the trail for strong suspicion on selective people. Whoever intended this crime, was unhappy with the princess’s decision. And it was fair to assume so because three days ago, Adele Purtova had publicly declined the inheritance of their family treasure. She intended on moving to Glasgow with Vladimir after taking the sacred vows, to pursue Russian literature. This meant that none of the family members could live off their accumulated wealth anymore. So, with her father at the helm of the affairs, the wealth in the treasury was to be put to public use, to accelerate development in their country town.

 Jonah was waiting outside the room when Vladimir arrived. He was on his way to the Royal church that morning to ensure the arrangements were for their big day when he got the call he never expected. 

He ran up to the head of security, shouting indistinctly in the hallway.

“How did you let this happen? Where is my bride?” he roared at Jonah, grabbing him by the collar. A swarm of gunmen arrived at the spot and pulled him away. Charles stepped out at once, shutting the door behind him, and ordered the guards to let the man be. He then hugged Vladimir, something unexpectedly unlikely of him, and calmed him down. He said it would be in the best interest of everyone if they could remember Adele with her smiling face. 

“I want to see her!” Vladimir sobbed bitterly. 

“That cannot be permitted. Commoners cannot grieve royals in their premises” interrupted Rumi, hugging her torso. Antonio walked beside her. He looked rather old than his age. “Jonah said you were driving when he called. Were you trying to escape?” “Rumi please!” Antonio nudged her softly. “Please let Charles take care of this boy, won’t you Charles?” 

“Rest assured please; this is a very difficult time for all of us. Let’s try to be together?” Charles insisted and accompanied Vladimir, whose face had swollen to a bright blush, to the dining room. 

 ----

 He closed the doors behind him and asked Vladimir to take a seat, while he roamed around looking at the china bowls that were placed very elegantly inside the crockery cupboards. 

“I’m very sorry for your loss son,” he started “she was like a daughter to me. I always tried to keep her away from any influence that could impact her negatively. I know you loved her deeply and were always supportive of all decisions that she took. I mean, look at how philanthropic and selfless our princess was. Who could have imagined this day? She was indeed one of the purest souls I knew, guess she’d taken it after her mother” 

“I’m not quite sure about that reference detective. The only trait she did inherit from her mother was her stubbornness.” Vladimir replied. His resentment filled voice intrigued Osbourn.

“I didn’t quite follow up, son” Charles waited.

Vladimir wiped his tears and spoke, “Did you not listen to her public address? She practically donated their family’s lifelong wealth. There was no way her mother would’ve let it be, especially after she brought home an unsuitable doctor.” He got up and walked next to Charles. “The day before her address, I tried to convince her to not take this step. I was happy with the fact that she would be living with me but she wanted to do something ‘more’. She wanted nothing to do with the money but forgot the weight of implications of her next big step. Look what it did to her!” 

“Are implying that it might have been someone in the family?” Charles questioned, closing in on the distance between them. 

“I wouldn’t say no,” Vladimir spoke and left the room.

The deal that Adele Purtova struck had to be signed by the treasurer, Antony Purtova, and herself before it could be validated. However, she was to sign the documents on her wedding day, which meant that the treasurer’s sign alone could not have diluted the Royal treasury. 

Charles saw no reason for any family member to approve the deal. None of them had a stable income that could cater to their expensive interests. The next afternoon, he arranged for the financial statements and other important documents of the family members and traced the various account holders. Surprisingly, or rather coincidentally, Rumi Purtova wasn’t the designated holder of any substantial account. A charity run by her was funding an untraceable organization that was entitled to its share from the treasury. This peculiar information interested the detective. He went back to the villa and tried to gather information from their house-help on their relationship but his doubts turned evidential when he eavesdropped on Rumi, who was whispering to Jonah about Adele finally uniting with her mother in heaven.

Charles rushed back home, securing the important documents. He gathered from the marriage registration that Antonio married Rumi in 1964, which was 23 years ago, however, the college application for literature at Russian University read that Adele was 26 years old. Thus, Rumi was her stepmother, who had no children of her own. 

----

The next morning, as Charles inquired Jonah. Jonah disapproved of a family member having anything to do with the case. But the detective wanted to know how a person could slide inside the Villa, let alone the princess’s room with him as the head of security. Jonah tried to explain how many times Adele had his men dismissed from her premises because she didn’t want to get used to it. He pointed out that she wanted to adjust to being a better wife to a commoner. 

“Wives of commoners don’t get stabbed in the middle of the night, Jonah” Charles interrupted. “she was still our duty; your duty till she was in the Villa.”

“I wouldn’t have let a mosquito hurt her sir; you know that. I just wanted her to have all the things in the way she wanted them while she was with us. She gave away her family tradition for good for that gentleman. Although I have been told that her mother wanted to keep a share of hers safe in her charity, she refused.”

“By ‘her mother’, who’re you exactly referring to?” Charles asked.

“Madam Purtova, of course! Who else, sir? She is the one who owns the Royal Charity. She donates a large amount to an orphanage every Christmas. Such philanthropists, both mother, and daughter!”

“By what name does this orphanage run, Jonah?”

Jonah fumbled. “It’s... it’s the Princess Adele Orphanage in Petersburg.” Rumi Purtova entered the room as soon as Jonah finished speaking. She had tied her slick brown hair tight in a bun and her black dress complimented her bony frame. She was an upright woman in her 40s, with the aura of a Queen.

“You sent for me Charles?”

“Yes Madam, please take a seat. I have a few matters to discuss with you.” 

Jonah got up to leave but Charles asked him to wait. He stood behind Rumi. 

“We were just talking about the Royal Orphanage in London that you donate every year to, on New Year’s.”

Rumi looked puzzled but immediately gathered her focus. “Oh yes! Of course, the orphanage is like a home to me Charles. Its children are like my own.” Jonah was asked to leave, his face flushed with embarrassment.

“Pardon me, madam, but did you also consider Adele your child, in the same way, a child whose wealth interested you?” Rumi’s face was flustered. Her disapproval and confusion rendered her speechless. “What do you mean Mr Osbourn? That I killed my child? That I killed...” she started sobbing hysterically. Charles waited. “How could you even say that!” “I didn’t, madam. I never said that.” He retracted Adele’s birth certificate and placed it in front of Rumi. Next, he showed her the various account statements that traced her charity money being used for fulfilling her expenses, via the pseudo-organization. 

“I suppose the person least attached and most affected by the actions of the princess was you, Madam. I never said you killed her, but I have in front of me all the reason to believe that you did.”

She held her head down and spoke after a long pause, tears flowing down. “I do accept to have betrayed the family, but I would never, ever touch her. I brought her up like a daughter. Antonio never wanted any other child for the sake of her. And I agreed. So even if you don’t like it, I was and will always remain her mother.” She left.

----

Charles reached home late that evening. He knew he had to grill Rumi more for her to confess. In his mind, he’d already visioned how she would have planned the drill and executed it. He thought it might be time for him to use the lie detector as he had identified the prime suspect. 

He called for his wife but she was outside, grilling potatoes. He got the ladder himself and searched for it above the kitchen cupboard. He lunged at a plastic bag and grabbed it forward. It contained a black cloth. He took it out and felt it on his face. It was a micro-fibre cloth, the same fabric he’d guessed had been used by the killer for his shoes. Without saying another word, he put it back and searched for his wife’s flats. He looked inside the closet, under the bed, even in the bathroom. But he couldn’t find anything. He rushed outside in the kitchen and saw his wife wearing a black shoe. He walked outside barefoot and asked his wife to do the same. “Take off your shoes Rita, the grass feels nice today.” Surprised at his reaction, she followed. He picked up the shoes and walked towards the kitchen. When he looked at the sole, his worst fear came true. 

The sole had been scribbled and patches of microfiber still stuck in the crevices. Without turning back, he rushed inside and locked the doors. Rita ran after him but he didn’t stop. He dialled Jonah and asked him to send a cover. He heard Rita banging on the door. 

Charles stood in front of her, holding a shoe in his hand. He showed her the sole and a teardrop splashed on his cheek. 

“Why?” he asked.

Rita stood frozen in place, tears washing down her face.

“Why!” he shouted.

“Let me in, please” she begged him. “I’ll tell you everything, I promise.” 

He knew she wouldn’t let him out alive if he did. So, he waited till the guards came in. He had never felt so defeated in his entire life. A woman, he thought he knew, did something he could never think of. And to someone as harmless as the princess, to a family as caring as the Purtovas. She should have been indebted to them forever, but instead, things took the ugliest possible turn. He looked at her through the glass door as she kept banging it. The woman in front of him was not his wife, she was a murderer. And it wasn’t in his nature to show any sympathy to one. She had access to the rooms in Villa, and she often had to stay in late to prepare chores. He could now trace her trail.

----

A statement reached Charles the next morning after Rita was arrested. She had confessed to the murder of the princess. She reasoned that a portion of the wealth belonged to her family, especially her husband, who had served the mayor without asking for any favours. She accused the family of using his abilities and making sure that he would live off in penury so that he could never rise to their power. 

She wrote she had no regret of her actions and the fake princess had no right to give away the money that rightfully belonged to her husband.

A note stuck to the report. 

Try not to hate me. It read.

Charles wiped a tear from his face and crumbled it before dumping it in the bin.

The phone did not ring that morning.