When the detective arrived he found a corpse, and a gun. Both were in the master bedroom. Both were cold.
The maid told him she’d heard the shot, and upon going upstairs, had found the man, her boss, dead, and had promptly called 911.That was at 7 o’clock at night.
The wife had not arrived home until 8 p.m., nearly. She had been, she said, jogging. They had called her cell phone, but then found it in the bedroom, charging, the ring alerting them to the phone’s presence.
The detective found no bullet holes in the bedroom, which was all the more curious given that the dead man had not been shot, making the gunshot’s meaning more a mystery.
The maid had been, she said, cleaning up after the children's dinner when she heard the gun go off.
The man's glass of brandy had poison in it, and of course that was what had killed him.
The man, the children said, had poured his own brandy, just after watching the news. He had gone upstairs to change, as he was expected at his weekly poker game that night, a game he would have left for around 7:30.
The children, too, had heard the gunshot. Too little to really know what it was, they had, heading, frightened, down the front stairs, run into the maid, heading up them, apparently feeling the same.
None of these facts made the man's death less a riddle, mused the detective.