The Four-and-a-Half Minute Alibi

"I'm getting worried. Sam’s not back. The lights are still off at the house. I wonder if they are holding him?" Cassie nodded towards the Maxwells' lakefront mansion across the water from them.

Gabe stopped painting the dock. He looked at the house before turning his gaze to Cassie. "I've been thinking the same thing. All the evidence points to Martin, not Sam. If they're holding him, it's because of who Martin is versus who Sam is."

"I agree. I have a feeling Martin Maxwell is about to get away with murder. I wish we could get back in the house. I know we’ve missed something," Cassie said, still studying the house.

“I bet the police are still sitting out front.” As soon as Gabe said that his eyes met Cassie’s, and then they both looked down at the rowboat anchored to the dock.

"Quick paddle around the lake?" Cassie grabbed her sunhat and dashed toward the rowboat, carefully avoiding the wet paint.

Rowing in unison and trying to look nonchalant, Cassie and Gabe began crossing the lake. "We've tested the timeline a dozen times. Martin would need at least three minutes to go downstairs, put the poison in the maid's drink, and get back upstairs. It's impossible to do it in less time. His wife swears he was by her side the entire night except for the two minutes she took to go into the bathroom to brush her teeth. That's the only thing that gives him an alibi. Amy's toothbrush timer is 2 minutes, and Martin needed at least three to do the deed. How could this be? Maybe she's wrong about her toothbrush?" Cassie rattled off the lingering questions, hoping an answer would appear.

"I've known Amy for a long time. She's meticulous. She's always suffered from OCD. Her timeline is perfect, just like her. I mean, who says they turned the lights off at 9:58 pm?" Gabe adjusted his rowing, realigning with Cassie, who'd forgotten they were supposed to be on a casual sail around the lake. "Is that Sam?" They both squinted and returned the wave to the man walking towards the edge of the mansion's property.

The pair docked, and Sam helped them up the ladder. "Hi Sam, how are you doing? Are you just now getting home? Did they keep you overnight?" Cassie hurled questions at the groundskeeper.

"They let me go around midnight. I've been at my sister's all morning," his voice was low and weak. Flustered, he blurted, "I’m here to check the house. Mr. Maxwell asked me to make sure the place is locked up because they left in a hurry. Said he’s not sure when they’ll be back…if ever.” Sam sounded defeated. “I guess I still work for him, for now anyway. I think the police want me to go down for this. I'm not sure I should even be here." He looked around the property.

Gabe and Cassie exchanged looks, neither knowing what to say next. A few seconds passed, after which Cassie said, "Sam, we don't believe you did this. We want to help you." Cassie slowed down her speech to sound calm. "Since Martin said it was ok for you to go into the house, could we go with you and take another look around? There has to be a way to prove who killed Mary.”

"Sure, let's go," Sam said, dropping his head and leading them toward the side entrance to the house.

Once inside the back hallway, they all stopped and stared at the closed door, still taped off with crime scene tape. A wave of sadness hit them. Mary, the long-time housekeeper, was dead, poisoned by an unknown person, for an unknown reason. More loss could come, too, if the killer was someone they knew. Cassie saw the worry that crept across Sam's face.

Sam muttered, "Where do you wanna go?"

"Let's start with her bathroom. That's the alibi." Cassie followed Sam up the back staircase, Gabe bringing up the rear. On the second-floor landing, an open door caught Cassie's eye.

"What's that room?" She asked, pointing to the room nearest them. She'd never used the back stairway, and it created a different view of the house than she'd seen before.

"That's Mr. Maxwell's train room," Sam replied, now stopped a few steps ahead.

"Train room? When did he get into trains?" Gabe asked, making his way past Cassie, stepping into the room.

"Not too long ago, but he's really into it," Sam began, "after Christmas, he asked me to gut this room, and build it out for him. It used to be one of the guest rooms. Every weekend, when they show up, he's got more trains. He spends most of his time restoring them and running them on these tracks.”

Cassie scanned the room - trains everywhere. A large table dominated the room’s center, featuring a train track and cityscape. She spotted a workbench in the far corner and scooted around the table to get to it. "He's got a lot of tools," she observed, lifting what looked like a soldering iron.

"Yep, he works on them. He said something about making them faster, too. I don't know. He said he’s always loved trains, and this was his new hobby." Sam picked up a train engine and handed it to Gabe.

Cassie noticed a voltage meter on the workbench and a disassembled motor nearby. "He's making them go faster?" she asked, her brain trying to process this new information, unsure where it fit in the puzzle.

"Yes, that's what he said. He's been figuring out how to make them go faster." Sam made his way to the doorway, Cassie and Gabe trailing behind.

The trio climbed the third staircase and entered the floor, dedicated as a private retreat. Cassie headed for the en-suite bathroom. The room, like the rest of the house, was immaculate. The police had limited the crime scene to only the maid's bedroom. Cassie knew that was a mistake, but she was glad she had access to this room again.

"There's got to be something…" Cassie whispered as she looked around, her reflection bouncing off the multiple mirrors. Gabe had joined her in the room, but Sam leaned on the doorjamb.

It was in the reflection that Cassie first noticed something was off. The room was not only a mirrored room, but it was designed to be a mirror image, with identical his-and-her sinks and countertops. But there was a difference. Cassie moved toward the toothbrush charging on the wife's side of the counter. It had a blue stripe on the back, only noticeable in the reflection in the mirror, but it was on the pink base. A glance confirmed her suspicions. The toothbrush on the husband's blue charging station was pink.

"I think I've got it!" She exclaimed, reaching for a washcloth to pick up the pink toothbrush and lay it on the counter. Pulling her phone from her pocket, she opened the clock app, turned on the timer, then turned on the pink toothbrush, careful not to leave a fingerprint.

Gabe, perplexed, asked, "What are you doing?"

"If he can make trains go faster, maybe he can make toothbrushes go slower,” Cassie replied. Sam joined them as they huddled to watch the timer tick away the seconds. The one-minute mark passed, then the two-minute mark. The toothbrush, which should have stopped, kept going.

"I thought it was a two-minute toothbrush?" Sam asked.

"That's what he wanted us to think," Cassie replied, watching the timer hit the three-minute mark. The toothbrush finally stopped at four minutes, thirty-two seconds. They looked up and exchanged smiles.

Cassie took a screenshot of the end time on the timer and called Detective Flynn.

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