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64. Small town mysteries

A small village in the countryside - Active crime scene

One hour and a half later

"Anderson, what can you tell us about this idyllic village?" Sherlock promptly starts the minute he and John arrive in front of the victim's house.

"That it is not idyllic at all, for starters," the forensic scientist replies, escorting the two of them into a cottage at one end of the small town, on the edge of the forest.

"I'm not saying that it has a long history of violence, but in such a little town, even the smallest crime becomes a topic of conversation for years on end. And around here, two huge mysteries, albeit old, will never stop being a talking point, especially because neither of them was ever solved."

"And I suppose the death of Isaac's father is one of them," Holmes intervenes, as they enter the house. He immediately crouches down over the corpse of a corpulent woman lying on the wooden floor of the living room. He scrutinises every inch of her body and notices traces of soil under her nails. Was she gardening when her killer lured her into the house and shot her dead?

"Yes. Elisa's husband was a good man. His mysterious disappearance shocked everyone," Anderson interrupts his flow of thoughts, pointing at a family photo portraying the victim, Isaac and a cheerful man.

"If I'm not mistaken, there wasn't much to tell since the body was never found, and he had no known enemies," Sherlock recalls the scarce information that the police gave him regarding that ancient crime. It is also consistent with what Isaac revealed during his interrogation.

In the meantime, he attentively analyses the creases on the carpet where the body is lying. Signs of struggle: it means that she wasn't held at gunpoint and executed in cold blood, Sherlock's mind feverishly elaborates. This suggests that the murderer's first intention wasn't necessary to kill her; otherwise, Elisa wouldn't even have had the opportunity to fight, causing the rug to wrinkle like that. What happened, then?

"Is anything missing? Jewels, valuables, cash?" he addresses Anderson, who shakes his head and quickly replies, "Nothing. This wasn't a burglary gone wrong. This is why the police think Isaac did it; the motive isn't money-related. Maybe he got into a heated argument with his mother. Who knows?"

He knows, if only you let him tell his version of the events, the detective mentally retorts. Then he turns his attention to the body again, to her forearms and hands.

Assuming (with a monumental leap of faith) that Anderson is, in fact, right, and that Elisa and her attacker argued and she tried to defend herself, why doesn't she have any scratches or contusions on her forearms? Whoever puts up a fight would try to hit the attacker with fists, hooks, punches. However, her knuckles aren't bruised or injured, so she didn't use her bare hands. Would it be possible that she was holding something and tried to use it to hit the killer?

"Did you move anything, any object, on or around the body?" He tartly asks.

Anderson grimaces at the subtle insinuation of poor forensics procedure.

"Of course not."

John tries to shift the focus back to the story they were being told.

"You were saying that the disappearance of Mr Therton, the victim's husband, remained a mystery, right?"

"Precisely, and it also marked the beginning of the end of the Therton family. Adam, that was his name, was pretty much the only one—except for his wife, who cared about Isaac and truly loved him. When he died and Elisa became a heartbroken, grieving widow, the boy officially became a pariah in this town," Anderson recounts.