Page 23 of The Lost Empress

Gen nodded. “That’s right.”

“And I believe that the poison would have to be put into Walter’s soup right before he ate it,” Sherlock offered, pointing down to the floor where the spilled soup was still lying. “You see, the poison not only has a stronger smell the longer it’s in a food, meaning that Walter would have detected that something was wrong, but it also gives the ingredients a strange color.”

Gen noticed that the minestrone soup had a strange tinge of green now, that it didn’t have before.

Sherlock continued to pace. “That means that JoAnne wouldn’t have put the poison into the soup because it couldn’t be done too far in advance.”

“And I was over here on the far side of the room,” JoAnne stated.

King Rudolf nodded. “But Summer and Shannon were over here beside where the soup was sitting, waiting for Walter to ingest it.”

“What?!” Summer exclaimed. “I was over here because I was helping Walter to hold the measuring tape so he could fit the bars for the windows. I didn’t poison him.”

“You were helping Walter to take measurements, both of you with your backs to the counter with the cash register and the food,” Sherlock stated, his hands pinned behind his back as he kept his head down and strode back and forth. “Which gave Shannon, the chance to withdraw the eclipse dust from his mailbag and put it in Walter’s soup when no one was paying attention.”

“You can’t be serious?” Shannon argued at once, pointing to his fallen mail bag still sitting on the floor with its contents strewn on the carpet.

“We are as serious as a heart attack,” King Rudolf stated. “That was induced by an illegal street drug.”

“If I had the drug in my bag, then wouldn’t I be more concerned that a cat was going through it,” Shannon challenged.

“You would,” Sherlock said, toggling his head back and forth. “Which a moment ago, made me think. Then I realized that the envelope that you had the drugs in would be empty now, but Fran was still sniffing, which was why she was after the bag.”

“This is ridiculous!” Shannon boomed, spinning around. “Why would I murder Walter? How would that even be possible for me to do?”

Sherlock held up one finger. “You murdered the bookshop owner because you were in love with JoAnne, who didn’t return your affection, and you believed that to be because she had feelings for Walter. Get the man out of the picture and the unhappy school teacher would suddenly fall for you.”

“I’ve never heard anything more crazy in all my life.” Shannon looked around at the others, pleading for them to come to his defense. They all remained frozen, watching the scene play out and looking to the great detective for the next explanation.

Sherlock held up two fingers. “You had the opportunity to poison Walter’s soup when his and Summer’s backs were to you, when they were facing the window. You would have slipped in front of the counter, with your own back blocking what you were doing from view from JoAnne. The others, Gen, Boon and Bernard were in between the rows of books, making it so they couldn’t see what you were doing.”

“You have no proof of any of this nonsense that you’re spouting!” Shannon complained, throwing his fists into the air.

“And lastly, the means…” King Rudolf bent over, picking up one of the letters that had fallen out of the postman’s bag. “The address on this and all the other mail in your bag has addresses for Venice Beach, which is miles from here, meaning this isn’t even your assigned delivery route.”

“Well-Well-Well, I can explain,” Shannon stuttered.

“That’s quite alright,” Sherlock cut in. “I think we can deduce that your route changed, but you managed to get the mail for this bookshop every day, swinging by during lunch, when you knew that JoAnne would be here, feeding Walter. You’d grown an unhealthy attraction to her during the years of delivering to Spellbound Pages Bookshop and didn’t want to let her go, even when your route changed. So you continued to make an out-of-the-way trip here, all so that you could see her.”

King Rudolf shook his head, clicking his tongue. “How very disappointing for you when you’d take your lunch breaks under the guise of delivering mail here, coming all this way, only to see JoAnne doting on Walter. That had to be very frustrating for you. So very maddening that it drove you to murder the man standing between you and the woman you loved.”

JoAnne sucked in an audible gasp. “Shannon! Is this true?”

“Of course not,” the postman replied, giving her a pleading look. “You have to believe me.”

“That’s what a liar says,” Rudolf stated, holding up the letter he’d picked up. “And your own delivery route would offer you ample opportunities to find the illegal street drug, eclipse dust, which is quite rampant in Venice Beach. There the residents have a lot of money and like dangerous drugs.”

Everyone stared at Shannon in shock. JoAnne was the first to move, striding over to Shannon and looking at him directly. He hesitated before meeting her eyes.

“Tell me the truth,” she began in a shaky voice. “Did you murder Walter?”

The postman glanced behind at the fallen body. He studied the old man for a long moment then returned his gaze to JoAnne. “He was miserable and I couldn’t figure out why you preferred him over me. I just figured that if he was out of the way, you’d finally see me—see that we had a future and get over this romance you’d invented with Walter.”

“Invented?” JoAnne yelled as everyone else gasped from the near confession. “We were friends. I liked him because he was an honest man.”

“He was an old man,” Shannon stated coldly, his eye narrowing. “I put him out of his misery. I heard about the drug because many terminally ill patients were using it to go quickly, stopping their pain. What I did for Walter was kind. He was depressed and rotten to all of you and you know it.” He swung around to face Summer. “He yelled at you all the time and wouldn’t let you buy the shop even though you could actually run it better than him.” Shannon then turned to Boon. “All he did was shoot your ideas down and complain about how you stressed him out.” Finally he returned his gaze to JoAnne. “And you were so kind to him, feeding him lunch every day and he rejected you when you told him how you felt. Then you did the same to me. I was tired of Walter ruining all our lives.”

“What about me?” Bernard asked, floating over.

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