Relationship Advice

The body looked like a broken pretzel. The twists and turns suggested some confusion. Perhaps each body part had a different plan at the end. Here he was, Winston Hathaway- laid out with no dignity or purpose- on a beautiful oriental rug amidst the wisdom of the world resting in books on the shelves of his fine private library. His smoking jacket and silk pajamas presented an odd mix of sophistication and casualness. 

Accustomed to murder scenes, Shirley scanned the room visually slowly and methodically. She then knelt beside poor Winston, lowering her face to a couple of inches above the body. Her nostrils flared rapidly as she smelled every inch of Winston. She saw the detective in the corner step back as he emitted a slight gasp. It did not seem respectful to smell a body but Shirley was not interested in social graces at this point. There was a murderer on the loose and no time was to be wasted. 

Having completed her olfactory investigation Shirley jumped to her feet and began to circle the corpse as if in some exotic dance. Usually the male leads- but of course he could not at this time. As she circled the corpse a second time she made frequent glances around the room. Then at the end of the second circling she suddenly dropped to the floor placing her head next to the corpse’s right hand. Her eyes slowly scanned along the victim’s right arm and hand all the way to an extended middle digit pointing to the bookshelf. 

The distressed spouse sobbed quietly in the hallway. She had reported earlier to the detective that she was aroused by a noise in the night. Fearing a burglar was in the house Helen stated to the police that she sent Winston to investigate downstairs. She had told the police she heard a shot. Terrified, she hid under the bed for perhaps a half hour in fear for her life. Hearing nothing further she ventured downstairs to find poor Winston in this current position. 

Shirley ignored Helen’s sobbing as she pursued the books on the shelf in the trajectory of Winston’s middle finger. Amidst the finest literature and some obvious early editions of some importance, Shirley paused over a new book with a bright white glossy paper covering . It seemed quite out of place amidst the leather bound books of classic fine literature surrounding it. Shirley examined it carefully spending a good deal of time on the title page and the table of contents. The book was entitled “Relationship Advice”. 

The detective spoke- “Do you have any clue who could have been the intruder- obviously caught in the middle of a burglary attempt”. Shirley smiled and responded- “Yes. Our perpetrator is about 5 feet 6 inches tall. She’s sitting out in the hall right now”. The detective gasped and protested- “How could you deduce such a thing. She clearly is in shock and grieving”.

Shirley responded- “When I first arrived I bent down to introduce myself to the the wife who was crying softly, curled up on the hall floor. I detected a slight odor of gunpowder which may have come from her examining Winston. 

I then saw the murder scene. It appears that Winston was engaged in some struggles with his wife over her demands. He purposely offered his third finger to her following his shooting. He carefully pointed to the volume entitled “Relationship Advice” on the bookshelf. She had noted sarcastically on the title page- “You will read all the great books but not the one book that will save your marriage”. 

True to her prediction, the book shows no evidence of a single page being turned. He appeared to have kept it untouched on his shelf to taunt his long suffering wife”. Added to that, she did not have any blood on her hands or clothing suggesting she did not touch Winston following her firing the fatal shot.

The detective sighed- “I wonder what was the final straw?”. Shirley responded- “Why that’s elementary. Judging from the slight smell of urine on Winston’s body, he likely got up about an hour before sunrise to toilet, then wandered into his beloved library to relax a bit before breakfast. I think you’ll find the toilet seat is still up”. 

As the body was wheeled away to the hearse and Helen was escorted in handcuffs to the patrol car, Shirley spoke to the detective. “The irony is that poor Winston would probably still be alive if he took his wife’s advice and read the book”. The detective nodded in agreement- “A happy wife- a happy life”.