The Suicidal House Guest
Doctor Paul Yancy tiptoed out of the sickroom, closing the door behind him. “Uncle Ben needs peace and quiet,” he told his brother and sister-in-law.
“The flu has left him weak and depressed. But the old man should make a full recovery.” “Thank goodness,” replied Fritz with as much sincerity as he could muster.
Uncle Ben had been staying with them ever since he got sick two weeks earlier. Every day Fritz had to remind himself of the 30 million good reasons why he and Caroline had to be hospitable to the cantankerous old man. “Call me if he gets worse,” Paul said as he left the house. “Why can’t Paul take Uncle Ben in?” Caroline whined, not for the first time.
“Very simple,” Fritz explained again. “The nicer we are to the old buzzard, the more he’ll leave us in his will.” A minute later, they heard the television go on in their Uncle’s ground floor room. “At least when he’s watching T.V., he’s not making demands.” Caroline sighed. They listened as Uncle Ben channel surfed for a few minutes, and then switched off the set.
An hour later, Caroline brought in his lunch on a tray. That’s when they found Uncle Ben dead, a half-empty glass of water on his nightstand along with a completely empty bottle of liquid sleeping drops. As the body was removed, Officer Warren inspected the room.
It seemed to have every convenience for a bedridden man. He counted all the electronic or battery operated devices: the T.V. set mounted in a ceiling corner, the radio/CD player within easy reach, the portable phone, the remote control for the blinds, an intercom, and, last but not the least, the remote control to adjust the bed.
“According to the medical examiner, the overdose killed him in just a few minutes,” a rookie officer informed his superior. “Since the bedroom window was locked from the inside and no one was seen entering the room, I think we can call this a definite suicide.” “Definite murder,” Officer Warren countered.
What was it about the room that made warren suspect murder? And whom did he suspect?