Murder on Christmas Morning

Detective Raines flashed his badge and stepped over the yellow caution tape. A gray, knit cap hugged his nearly bald head and he pulled his wool scarf closer around his neck. Nothing like getting called to a scene on Christmas morning. He gingerly walked up the front walkway that had become slick with the chill overnight. He noticed a few looks from the local law enforcement as he approached the door. This was a predominantly rich, white neighborhood. 

They must not have heard of me. Yet. He thought to himself, nodding at the officers, who just stared at him in return. 

Raines was relieved to see a member of his own precinct as he walked through the door. Officer Dowden had hopes of becoming a detective and was often invited to be on these cases. Raines felt some of the tension leave his body. He'd worked with Dowden before and knew the man respected him. 

“Hey, Detective.” Dowden waved at him and walked over. “Such a shame this happened on Christmas.”

Raines nodded, loosening his scarf. It was much warmer in the Flemming's mansion than it was outside during a brutal Chicago winter. 

“I was only given a few details. Can you give me a rundown before I begin questioning?”

“Apparently the housekeeper found both Mr. and Mrs. Flemming dead this morning. They'd thrown a Christmas party last night. There were about a dozen people here. The bodies haven't been touched, coroner is on his way, but there's no signs of foul play.”

“Thank you, Dowden. Feel free to follow me on this one.” 

Raines pulled his scarf loose and unbuttoned his black, wool peacoat. Why did rich people have to keep their houses so damn hot? 

Raines walked down a hallway into the dining room, where a large oak table lay upon an even larger Persian rug. A perfectly normal sight, aside from the two dead bodies on the floor. 

Mrs. Flemming's dark hair was sleek and neat. There was no sign of a struggle.

As if she just suddenly collapsed, Raines thought to himself.

Her face was serene; though pale and of course, the natural effects of death were beginning to set in.

Looking across at Mr. Flemming, Raines didn't see anything of concern. It was almost as if they were both just sleeping. 

“Where is the housekeeper? I feel I should question her first.”

Dowden pointed across the open room where a pudgy, middle-aged woman was sitting on a green, velvet couch. Her hair fell in tight brown ringlets around her face and she wore a classic maid’s uniform, complete with a neat, white apron and hat. 

“Miss Gulliver? I'm Detective Raines. May I ask you a few questions?”

He reached out to shake her hand, so small in his giant palm. Her cheeks flushed as she nodded. 

Raines sat across from her in an old fashioned armchair. 

“Miss Gulliver, I'm so sorry for these unfortunate circumstances. I know it must have been awful, finding your employers like this.”

The maid nodded, her eyes welling with tears. 

“May I ask about the party last night?” Raines gestured to the numerous Christmas decorations that adorned the rooms. Holly wound itself around the staircase banister like a snake, Christmas lights strewn in. There were at least five Christmas trees throughout the open layout dining room and living room. 

“It was just a few other couples. I didn't even make a full dinner. Drinks and appetizers. Mrs. Flemming was very adamant the theme was Christmas. All the drinks and dishes were Christmas themed.”

Raines nodded, taking in the rest of the room. A bar near the entrance to the kitchen still had several bottles of alcohol on the counter, as well as a few empty glasses. 

“Did you not get to clean up last night?” He asked, gesturing to the cluttered bar.

Miss Gulliver’s face flushed again. 

“I- I cleaned up almost everything, but a few friends stayed and had drinks pretty late. I went to bed. Mr. Flemming tends- tended his own bar.” She responded, faltering over her words as tears streamed down her face. 

“Do you know who stayed behind?”

“The Sullivans. They live a few blocks north of here. But I'm certain they wouldn't have had anything to do with this. The four of them were best friends.”

Detective Raines stood up, brushing melted snowflakes off his peacoat. He walked across the room to the bar. 

“Detective,” Dowden called. “Mr. and Mrs. Sullivan, they are here for questioning.”

Raines had finished walking around the bar, deep in thought. 

“Great.” He rubbed his hands together. 

The couple sat down next to Miss Gulliver, who scooted over to make room. 

“Detective Raines,” he said, extending his hand. Mrs. Sullivan shook it gingerly, her bright blue eyes scanning him.

Mr. Sullivan chimed in. “We had nothing to do with this! This is an outage!” His face turned the same shade as his vivid, red tie. 

“Actually, I know you had nothing to do with the deaths of Mr. and Mrs. Flemming.” Raines said, calmly.

All three sitting on the couch looked astonished. 

“I just wanted to clarify a few things from late last night.”

Mr. Sullivan relaxed. 

“What did you two have to drink at the end of the party?” Raines began. 

“I always have a dry martini. And Leonard here never drinks anything but scotch.”

“Is that why you didn't have any of Mrs. Flemming's Christmas themed drinks?”

Mrs. Sullivan turned her nose up in disgust. 

“I don't like all those frou frou drinks. Holly was always trying to make things so complicated. Most of us in the neighborhood like what we like and that's it.”

Raines nodded. “That makes sense as to why only the Flemmings were killed.”

Mr. Sullivan turned to Raines. 

“Terry was a great friend of mine. I hope you get whoever did this to him.”

“That's going to be kind of difficult.”

“Is it? They said on the way here, you're one of the best detectives in the area.” Mr. Sullivan snorted. 

“It's going to prove difficult because the persons responsible for the deaths of Terry and Holly Flemming, are Terry and Holly Flemming.”

Three pairs of eyes stared at Raines, a fourth pair, Dowden’s, gawked behind him. 

“Detective? Did we hear you correctly?” Dowden asked, trying to sound respectful. “You think it was a suicide? Murder suicide?”

“Terry would nev-”

“Not a murder or suicide at all. An unfortunate accident.”

Raines walked over to the bar again. 

“I'm sure Mr. Flemming was just trying to please his wife. After all, she wanted a Christmas themed menu and her name was Holly. It doesn't get much more perfect.” 

Raines pointed to the front of the bar, where a garland with holly was strung. It was obvious in places that several of the berries were missing, a cluster of leaves lay lonely. All green and no red.

“Mrs. Flemming probably asked her bartender, her husband, to make a special drink for her. What better way to make it special than add the berries that are her namesake?”

“I did see her drinking a drink with berries in it. Terry drank one too. I tried a small sip, but as I stated, not my thing.” Mrs. Sullivan crossed her legs and put her hands over her knee. 

“But you didn't ingest these berries. Are you aware that holly berries are-”

“Highly toxic.” Miss Gulliver put her head in her hands. Of course she would know, a classically trained cook. 

“Highly toxic. It seems Mr. Flemming shared in a deadly cocktail with his wife, but this was nobody's fault but their own.”

“You mean to tell me I was this close to ending up like them?!” Mrs. Sullivan asked angrily, pinching her thumb and index finger together to show how close she'd come to death.

“Had you not stuck to your usual, yes.”

She looked faint. 

“That's awful news, Detective. But I guess a relief, in the sense there's not some madman on the loose.” Mr. Sullivan stated, tears brimming his eyes. 

Raines agreed. 

“Thank you for your time, Miss Gulliver, Mr. and Mrs. Sullivan. Please be on standby until the toxicology reports come back.”

The three of them nodded and Mr. Sullivan helped his wife to her unsteady feet and out the door. 

“If only I had stayed awake. I could have told them those berries were toxic.” 

“You couldn't have known they would ingest them. Hopefully with the press this gets, it serves as a lesson to all. I don't think a lot of people know those berries are dangerous.”

Dowden walked over to Raines, his lanky frame towering over him.

“For a minute there, I thought you were crazy. You really do observe everything though. Congrats on another case closed.”

Raines smiled at him as he buttoned his coat and pulled his scarf taught. When he walked out of that house now, he'd hold his head up high.