Unfortunate Circumstances

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Donald “Don” Libertine. Maine Coon. Thirty-five years old. Died from cyanide poisoning. High-ranking member of a veteran’s group I’d left ages ago. Despite being a God-fearing American, he also had a bit of a reputation for being a Casanova. The case turned out to be quick; an open-and-shut one. Don’s wife, Minako, got caught with cyanide salts mixed in with his coffee in their home, and that was that.

Smirnov came to me one day with her case file. He sat across from me, separated by a cluttered desk. Aside from the rumblings of the city outside my window, the office was silent aside from the ticking of the clock on the wall and the tap of his dress shoes on the wooden floor. He lit a cigarette while I leafed through the scarce files in the folder.

I asked, “Why do you want me to look into this case so bad? Isn’t her trial coming up soon?”

“Yes, but nothing adds up.”

“What do you mean?”

“The way the department has gone about the case is too hasty for my liking.”

“You’re the commissioner, can’t you do something about it?”

“I would, but the board is pressuring me to keep quiet and go with it. Everyone insists Minako’s some savage, backstabbing Jap, but I don’t believe it for a second. I’ve seen the way she acted during interrogations, and everything about her screams innocent.”

He snuffed out his dwindling cigarette in my crowded ashtray. He leaned forward in his seat, his now free fingers clasped together in his lap.

“Blacksad, you’re a good man, and I trust your unbiased judgment. I need you to look into this, before it’s too late for her.”

I had a sort of obligation to stick my nose into this case regardless of the circumstances, given my past with Don. In Germany, he’d saved my ass too many times to count. The least I could do was return the favor.

“I’ll do it.”

I went to visit Minako in jail the next day.

She was a Japanese bobtail cat. With her wide, anxious honey-colored eyes and her silky black hair curled into a mid-length wavy bob, I could see why Don fell for her. However, she reeked of cigarette smoke, and for a moment I was grateful for the glass panel separating us, even though it did little to block the smell.

I could sense the cloud of sadness hanging over her head. Who could blame her? Much like me, she had no one, but her wounds were still fresh.

“Ma’am, I’m John Blacksad. I’m here to ask a few questions. That’s it. I promise.”

She sighed. “Go ahead, shoot them at me.”

“How well did you get along with Don?”

“Oh, I loved him, more than anyone could ever know. He swept me off my feet when we first met in Japan. Despite his reputation, I knew he was loyal to me and only me.”

“Alright then. The autopsy said that the poison was self-made. Did you have anything in your house it could have been made of?”

“No! The police insisted it was made from bamboo shoots. Yes, I did use those for my cooking sometimes, but I don’t know how to make cyanide. I didn’t even know you could do that with something like food. I can see why the police think that, though.”

“What do you mean by that?”

“Don’s eaten bamboo shoots before. He was eager to try my more traditional dishes, and he wanted to get into shape. It was to the point where he switched out his sugar for my sweetener.”

She let out a laugh, before punctuating it with a mournful sigh.

“I see. Is there anyone who would have wanted to harm Don?”

“No, I can’t think of anyone, except maybe his friend Harold. They almost got into a fight at a neighborhood party.”

I’d read in the case file that Harold was a dead-end. Despite Harold being an entomologist, he didn’t have the means to bring anything like pure cyanide salts home, as the police deduced in the comments next to his clipped photo. Even so, there was nothing in his house that could have been used to make it nor a sliver of an idea from anyone on how he would have got it in the coffee after the fight, and that’s why he was cleared.

“What were they fighting over?”

She sniffled, tears forming in her eyes. “Don was seeing his wife.”

She hunched over as she trembled in her seat, her voice raising to a bubbling, high-pitched crescendo. “I may have become aware of everything too late, but I would have never killed him over it! I could have fixed what we had, I could have… I could have-”

She broke down into heavy sobs.

Harold was starting to look more suspicious. He may have not brought cyanide home with him, but he certainly could have made it himself.

I said in a hushed tone, “I can’t guarantee anything, but I’ll try my damn hardest to find out who did it.”

She looked up at me, her snow white face gleaming with tears under the harsh light.

“Please do. Please.”

Don had been destined for death, as he’d joked with me so many times in foxholes, but his harbinger of death wasn’t a kraut, much less his wife.

It didn’t take long for me to schedule a visit with Harold. He was reluctant over the phone, but at the end of the call I was able to pressure him into complying with me.

I entered the gated community with its identical Cape Cod houses. It was easy to see how such dysfunction could settle into such a small community, as it can be quite easy for people to stab each other in the back left and right like it’s nothing. Such is the life of rich people with idle time on their hands.

Harold greeted me with a nervous flash of his teeth and a taut handshake, before he led me to the dining room.

I took my seat, before he called his wife in.

“Julia?”

She emerged from the kitchen, with rubber blue gloves on and her long mottled brown and orange tabby fur poking out from her iron-pressed collar.

“Yes, honey?”

“Get us some whiskey and some snacks.”

“Sure, dear.”

With a dip of her head, she disappeared into the kitchen again. It was not long before she came back out with a finely aged bottle of whiskey and a bowl of almonds. She placed them on the center of the table. She planted a kiss on Harold’s ginger cheek, one that seemed to have little effect based on the stone cold look on his face, before she went back into the kitchen.

Once she was gone, I asked, “So, Harold, what is your relationship like with Minako?”

He shoved a handful of almonds into his mouth. He looked a bit startled at the question, before he swallowed his food.

“I didn’t like her that much then, and I certainly don’t like her now.”

“What makes you say that?”

“She’s always got her head in the clouds. Not to mention she’s too polite for her own good. At least that’s what I thought of her before she poisoned her own husband like a soulless monster.”

Julia came out of the kitchen with two shot glasses, and placed them in front of us.

Harold picked up another almond from the bowl and popped it into his mouth. His eyes widened and he spit it out. Silence thickened the air as he turned to glare at his wife.

“I thought I told you to throw those bitter almonds out. You know how much I hate those.”

Julia sputtered frantically, “I-I’m sorry, I forgot.”

“Well, don’t forget next time, Christ.”

With a flustered look, she picked up the bowl and hurried into the kitchen while the ruffles of her dress swayed around. She emerged moments later with the gloves off, and dashed towards the living room.

It was a little uncomfortable to see a marriage fall apart in real time, but I coughed and continued my questions as I poured myself some whiskey.

“Is it true you work with cyanide salts?”

“Yes, but only in a laboratory. I only use it to euthanize bugs. Look, Mr. Detective, I don’t know what you’re playing at, but I’ve already been cleared by the police about the matter.”

He poured himself some more whiskey, and took a shot, while I continued to probe with more questions.

“What was your relationship with the victim?”

“What, Don? We were good friends. I always hated his cocky attitude, but I thought he was a good guy at the end of the day. At least before I found out he slept with my wife.”

He took a swig of whiskey straight from the bottle.

“You know what bugs me about it? They used to be high school sweethearts before the war.”

“So how did you and Julia meet, then?”

“Julia and I met in our chemistry class in university, and the rest is history.”

I twitched an ear. Both of them had a background in chemistry, then. Interesting. I filed that away for later.

“I see. What about your wife? Did she and Minako ever get along?”

For the first time since my visit, the cold facade faded away and a look of deep discomfort emerged in its place.

“Not at all.”

“How so?”

“She thinks I don’t notice, but there’s always these pointed comments she makes towards her.”

“Could you give some examples?”

He shifted in his seat, before looking away from me.

“She constantly complains about how weird her food is whenever she brings it to potlucks, about how her English is good for a foreigner, and so on. It never ends. She always finds something new to pick her apart about. She even rags on her for using sweetener instead of sugar for her coffee. I still can’t see how that’s supposed to be Minako thinking she’s better than everyone.”

“How is she handling Don’s death?”

“Oh, are you kidding me? She’s devastated. She won’t stop crying over him. Who can blame her?”

This changed everything. Everything was stringing together like a tangled mess of paper-clips, and I was hot on the trail.

I rose from my seat, and extended a hand to Harold.

“I understand. Thank you for taking the time to answer my questions. Do you mind if I get something from the kitchen?”

He cocked an eyebrow, but took my hand and shook it, his grip firm and his movements gentle. He stared at me with narrowed eyes.

“Sure?”

I went into the kitchen and dug in the trash can. I plucked out the almonds Julia had tossed out, and placed them into a small plastic bag I then placed into my pocket.

As I left the house, I turned to look at Julia for a brief moment, who was busy vacuuming the living room carpet. The underside of her nose was wet with snot. When she looked back at me, I could only see the glassy, teary eyes of a killer looking back at me.

After gathering the evidence I needed, I returned to the police department the next day. Minako’s trial would be coming up this week, and I needed to act fast.

I knocked on the door of Smirnov’s office.

Nothing.

I pressed one of my ears to the translucent glass of the door, straining to hear any footsteps among the murmur of the police department. I lurched back when I heard the rusty creak of the doorknob opening the door.

Smirnov leaned an eye towards the open crack of the door, looking down at the folder I was holding in my hand.

“You need something?”

“Yes, I’ve made a breakthrough in this case. The one with Mr. Libertine.”

He creaked the door open.

“Really now?”

I nodded my head.

He gestured a hand behind him, inviting me into his office. I’d only been in here a few times, but the wide view of the bustling street behind his desk never failed to intrigue me each time. No doubt he was proud of the view as well. He’d worked for it.

He returned to sit at his desk, while I pulled up a chair. Unlike mine, it was neat and clear, with his pens gathered in a little cup holder and a desk tag that read “John Smirnov: Police Commissioner”.

“Tell me everything.”

I pulled out two bags, one containing the sweetener in Don’s house I’d obtained on questionable grounds, and the bag of almonds. I then handed him a manila folder full of my notes.

He gave the folder an inquisitive look, before he took it into his hands and thumbed it open. I watched him as his eyes darted back and forth while he read the words inside.

“So you claim there was a mix-up with the poisoning?”

“That’s correct. Harold’s wife meant to poison Minako, but killed Donald by accident instead.”

“Bold claim. How are you going to back it up?”

“If I’m correct, then the sweetener in this bag should contain poison from the almonds in the other bag. Not only that, but Minako was known for using sweetener for everything instead of sugar. It’s only because Don started to use it recently that he suffered the way he did.”

“I see. I trust your judgment, so I’ll try my best to put the trial on hold and have my team investigate this.”

It was a few days after we talked before I decided to clean out my office. The clutter was beginning to become a nuisance. I stacked some papers of past records on top of each other and shuffled them. Today was supposed to be Minako’s trial, and I could only hope it didn’t go through. I heard a soft knock on my door.

“Come in.”

To my surprise, it was Minako.

I asked, “What are you doing here?”

She gave me a soft smile. “They let me go.”

“I can see that. What happened?”

“Julia confessed to being guilty during her interrogation. I didn’t realize she hated me so much.”

She bowed down and looked up at me with teary eyes. “I want to thank you for clearing my name. I just-I don’t know what I’m going to do now that Don’s dead.”

I pulled her into a hug. “I’m sure you’ll figure it out.”

“I can only hope so. I still have our son to raise, and I need to be there for him.” She wrenched herself away from me. “What are you going to do now?”

I gave her a slight smile, with my hand on her shoulder.

“There’s an old friend I need to visit at his grave. It’s been a while since we’ve seen eye to eye.”