Designer shoes, succinylcholine and soot

Ring. Ring.

I waited exactly 38 seconds before he picked up.

“Hello?” came the voice from the other side.

“James, it's me.”

“Alexis? Is that you?”

“Yes. Did you find the suspect? Did you get the information?”

James hesitated for a moment, “He was dead when I got there.”

“What?” I asked, keeping myself composed, while maintaining the facade.

“Yeah. His body was bruised. Seemed to have been beaten up with a bat.”

I chewed my lip, "When did you get to the scene?”

He said something, but the line began to break up. It didn't matter, I already knew the answer.

"-around— window— size 7 foot prints– lady—”

“Can you repeat that? The line is breaking up.”

There was a crackle of static, “I arrived around 9 am, and the window was opened. The suspect was dead, his carpeted floor had absorbed all of his blood.There were sandy prints leading from the window to the body. The footprints were size 7 and the murderer seems to be a woman. Also I searched the apartment. No sign of the documents.”

“What time did you say that you went in?” 

“Around 9 am. I called the police when I left at twenty past 9.”

“Was the blood wet or dry?”

“What?”

“Was the blood wet or dry? You said that it was absorbed into the carpet. Was the blood wet or dry when you got there?”

“Uh- Dry, I think. No, I'm sure that it was dry,” James responded, though he sounded unsure.

“Isn't that peculiar? Because when I spoke to Detective Meyers at half past 9, he told me that the blood was still wet. ‘The case of the resaturated blood’. That will most definitely catch the public's attention in the Times, don't you think?” I replied a bit too smugly.

“Oh. I didn't check, actually.”

“Besides the point, what other things did you find? And suspicious notes? Plus you mentioned that he seemed to have been beaten up. How did the carpeted floor get 'soaked'?”

“He probably hit his head on the floor, which bled and soaked the floor.”

“That's improbable because Detective Meyers said-”

“Can you shut up about what Meyers said? How do you know that he wasn't lying?”

I grinned on my side of the line, “I'll tell you a secret. I was with Detective Meyers.”

James didn't reply, so I went on, “And I saw the scene. But you missed out one essential clue. There were two shoe-shaped indentations in the carpet near the window. Size 11 and I suspect that it belongs to someone around 6'4. But the most interesting detail is that the shoe prints match the Christian Louboutin Chambeliss shoes which cost about $1200.

“When I arrived at the scene of the crime, at half past 9, with Detective Meyers, I saw the Chambeliss imprints beside the window. I allowed Meyers to keep searching as I headed to the only local shoe store that sells these Chambeliss shoes and asked for a list of everyone who had purchased them over the last decade. I figured that the list would be very short, considering the fact that not many people would be able to afford them. In the last 10 years, only 3 people have purchased a pair. The first was a wealthy man, who died 4 years ago. The shoes were inherited by his eldest son, who emigrated to Paris last year. The second person was a businesswoman who purchased it for her boyfriend, but didn't give it to him because they broke up before she had the chance to. She returned it to the store the following week. The third person was you.”

He cleared his throat, which echoed through the line, “How do you know that an immigrant did not purchase it in their home country and travel here?”

I paused for a moment, “Well that is a possibility, but it's highly improbable. Besides, there are other pieces of evidence.”

“Such as?”

“The information that you told me does not match the scene of the crime. The shoe prints that you mentioned were not sandy, they were sooty. They are high heel prints, which no woman in her right mind would go chimney climbing in. Also, I recall that you have a wife, who wears size 7 shoes. It seems as though you planted that evidence.”

“Then there was the body,” I went on, “You claimed that it was covered in bruises, but that was not the case. Well, it was the case, but not the full case. You did not mention how he had consumed succinylcholine, then was beaten up. There are traces of it in his bloodstream and it can mimic natural death with the precise dose. Not many people are aware of its existence, and it is used to paralyze the patient for medical procedures. You work at the local hospital, where you could have easily obtained it and you are familiar with the effective dosage. Now, answer one question for me.”

He hesitated, then answered, “What? What is it that you want to know?”

“Am I correct?”

He remained silent.

“How about this, I'll hide your tracks, but only if you confess.”

James seemed confused at my request, “Why? Why do you need to be told that you are correct?”

“What can I say? I like to know that I am correct.”

He sighed, “Yes, I did it. Now will you cover my tracks?”

“No. You have to say it properly. Make it a full confession.”

I could tell that he was pinching the bridge of his nose in annoyance, but after 8 long seconds he replied, “I, James Everette Sinclair, murdered Julian Hayes,” he growled as he gritted his teeth, “Now will you do it?”

“No.”

"What? Why not? I did what you asked me to do!”

I smiled, though he could not see my expression, I was sure that he knew that he had been fooled, “I can't be trusted. Also, you're extremely gullible. I am in a room with nothing but a telephone and 13 police officers who all heard your confession.”

The line remained silent for a while before he finally spoke, “I will flee from here. Flee from this country. You will never–”

“I will never do what?” I interjected, "Find you?”

A loud knocking sound could be heard through the line. "What did you do?” James asked, alarmed.

“It seems as though you have some guests. I'm sure that Detective Meyers and his co-workers would like some tea,” I answered.

He hung up.