The Poisoning of Mr Kitkit

“I have been following the wrong path. The plan unfolded so perfectly that there is no way to solve the case by deducing what object contained the poison. In that sense, it has been a perfect crime.”

“How do you know who did it, then?”, asked Travis.

“Sometimes it is not about trying to find the right answer, but rather about formulating the right question. As it happens, it was wrong to ask which object was poisoned, among all the things you gave him. In reality, the truth lay in the interactions of the culprit; hence, in searching for what that person said that only the murderer could have known.

Pinn drew half a smile before staring at one of the guests.

“Exactly. The murderer is you…

…Tània!”

Tània looked at him, her eyes widening in awe — two blue pearls trembling between the golden waterfalls that framed her face.

“What nonsense are you talking about?”

“You devised a meticulous plan, but unfortunately, not even the most wanted criminal can escape their own slip of the tongue.”

Everyone present watched the detective expectantly. He continued:

“I deliberately chose not to reveal what I was doing, giving you a chance to say more than you should have. And so it happened,” Pinn said, fixing a determined gaze upon Tània. “When I sniffed your lips, you reproached me, saying there was no poison there. Tell me, then, why did you assume so quickly that the cause of death was poisoning?”

Tània turned pale, her nervousness growing with every passing second.

“That’s only natural… everyone saw Mr. Kitkit collapse!”

“Yes, that is true, but many other factors could have caused that. In fact, Kitkit suffered from chronic arrhythmia, isn’t that right, Alissa?” the detective asked, turning toward the assistant, who nodded. “I deduced it from the medication you gave him earlier, Bisopropol, which slows the heart rate and is used to prevent cardiovascular incidents. Knowing that, it would be more natural to assume that the victim’s collapse was caused by a heart problem.”

Pinn scrutinized Tània’s frightened eyes.

“Kitkit had to take this medication daily. Being his partner, it is impossible that you were unaware of this particular health habit. And yet, you immediately defended yourself by claiming that you had not poisoned Kitkit, assuming that poisoning was the only possibility to consider when I had not yet said a word about it. Odd, isn’t it?”

The guests looked at Tània, stunned. She stared at the floor, covering her lips with a trembling hand.

“A coincidence,” she finally muttered. “I’ve watched too many films, detective. These words can’t possibly incriminate me. Besides, I could not have transmitted the poison with a kiss.”

“You are correct. No poison could instantly kill a person after a kiss without endangering your own health; not even an anaphylactic shock caused by allergies could kill so quickly. Either you injected an antidote prior to the event, or you poisoned Kitkit before dinner, during the afternoon picnic. I am inclined to believe in the latter. In any case, this is not relevant now: the police will determine this specific part well. As I stated, what matters now is your own interactions, and not the poison itself.”

Seeing that there were still traces of defiance in Tània’s eyes, the detective sighed.

“Thus, that is not all. You didn’t just assume poisoning with suspicious ease. When you saw Kitkit on the floor, before I even checked whether he was still alive, do you remember what you said?”

Noticing Tània’s startled look, Pinn allowed himself half a smile.

“You lamented that the police would take a long time to arrive at this remote mansion. Strange, since in such a situation, anyone would think of calling an ambulance, and not only the police. Unless, of course, you already knew that Kitkit was a dead man.”

Tània stared at the detective, stunned, before losing all strength and collapsing to her knees. A thin stream of tears began to run down her cheeks.

“I had to do it… that wretch wanted to ruin me. After everything I had to do for him…”

Roberto took two steps forward and placed a hand on Tània’s shoulder.

“I knew him well. I do not doubt your words, but… nothing could justify murdering Mr. Kitkit.”

Tània shot him a sharp, resentful glance and brushed his hand off her shoulder. He shrugged and stepped aside with a weary expression, while the detective sat down in a chair with no desire to judge.

“I will stay here with her, waiting for the police to arrive. The rest of you may leave.”

Tània did not even grumble; she remained seated in resignation, without a drop of energy. The others, still carrying traces of tension in their bodies, gave a slight nod before leaving the room in silence, casting one final glance at the culprit of the crime, who lay almost sprawled across the parquet floor, like the shadow of a footprint marked upon the wood and leading toward the victim, whose body rested a few meters away as if merging with the quiet elegance of the entire hall.

Resolution

Mr. Kitkit had invited four people, all of them part of his close circle of friends. Therefore, Detective Pinn was feeling like a goat among sheep. Had it not been for the invitation that his friend Xuno provided, he would not have even bothered going to that mansion where no conversation seemed remotely interesting to him. However, before he could refuse, Pinn was already receiving a phone call from Mr. Kitkit himself expressing gratitude, similar to how he did once he opened the front door.

“How glad I am that you could come, detective. Mr Xuno recommended to me effusively that I should invite you so you can entertain us with your detective stories.

In a heartbeat, Pinn was already sitting at a table covered with a silk cloth, at the center of a well-decorated room with paintings, lights hanging everywhere, and a wooden ceiling as high as two luxurious flats. Around the table, there were, excluding Pinn, seven people: the host, four guests, and two workers:

• Mr. Kitkit: a 61-year-old man with a pointy silver beard, a rounded hat, and a suit embroidered with scarlet threads. His attitude was that of a typical millionaire, with notable apparent gracefulness.

• Travis: friend of Kitkit, 43 years old, bald and fancily dressed in a navy suit. A calm and polite man, and equally friendly.

• Roberto: friend of Kitkit, 56 years old, with waxed hair whose black color matched perfectly with his blazer. Serious manners, but nice.

• Mouna: friend of Kitkit and the wife of Roberto, 55 years old, with dark hair, dark skin, and an elegant blue dress. Quite cheerful in attitude.

• Tània: Kitkit’s girlfriend, 40 years old, with blond hair, almost silverish, reaching her neck. Not particularly energetic, but very friendly.

• Alissa: Kitkit’s assistant, 34 years old, with blond hair in a ponytail and humble clothing covered by an apron. Shy but formal when needed.

• Conrad: waiter and personal chef of Kitkit during special occasions like that evening, 38 years old, short and oak-colored hair, and a well-trimmed beard. Very friendly.

The evening started with conversations here and there about topics that, for Pinn, sounded completely superfluous. The guests constantly sat down and then stood up to talk with different people, waiting for a dinner that would still take a few minutes to be ready.

“A bit of whisky to prepare the guts,” Conrad commented as he displayed a bottle of Bourbon and removed the plastic covering the cap. Kitkit applauded the decision while the waiter served several glasses.

“Thanks, but I’ll abstain for now,” Travis remarked, covering his glass. “If what you have is hunger, dear Kitkit, I’ve brought a gift that I think you’ll like.”

Then Travis placed a box of chocolates on the table, opened it, and made everyone present salivate.

“Wonderful, my friend. Your gift is more than welcome,” Kitkit thanked him as he grabbed a chocolate and devoured it eagerly. The rest of the guests imitated him, seduced by the sweet taste that the box promised.

“You’re missing out, Travis. I don’t understand how you can scorn a drink of such caliber,” Mouna reproached with a laugh as she took out a pack of cigarettes, picked one up with her mouth, and lit it. “There’s nothing like a good Chesterfield to accompany this fine bourbon.”

Having said that, she extended the pack to Kitkit, inviting him to smoke, which he gladly accepted. He took a good sip of whisky and inhaled deeply from the cigarette with an exhalation of pleasure.

“All I’m missing is the good company of my beloved lady for everything to be perfect,” he said, gesturing with his arm for Tània to come closer. “Do you have a partner, detective?”

Pinn, somewhat unsettled by the question, was about to answer when Tània, hugging Mr. Kitkit from behind, spoke first.

“Old degenerate,” she said sarcastically. “Your fantasies cloud your judgment if you think I’m going to kiss you with that smell of tobacco and alcohol.”

While Kitkit laughed, amused by his girlfriend’s humor, Roberto stood up and offered Kitkit a small box of chewing gum.

“This might help with your breath,” Roberto assured, without abandoning his serious and motionless façade.

Kitkit took a piece of gum from the box, chewed it gladly for a few seconds, and then affectionately kissed Mouna on the lips. The other guests, following the little spectacle, briefly applauded.

“Sir,” Alissa suddenly said, now beside Kitkit. “It’s time to take your medication.”

Kitkit snorted like a stubborn child. Alissa extracted a small white pill from the sealed blister pack, on which the letters Bisopropol could be read. Kitkit swallowed the medication reluctantly, with the help of the whisky.

“Very well”, he proclaimed as he slammed the glass onto the table. “Dear guests, I heartily thank all of you for coming. I gathered you here to honor…”

Suddenly, Kitkit fell silent. Everyone looked at him expectantly, waiting for the resolution of those suspenseful seconds. But Kitkit did not continue: his eyes opened wide, staring into the distance. Then he began to groan in pain, his hands at his throat, as he fell from the chair. Everyone rushed closer, alarmed, and Alissa tried to clear his airway by pressing on his chest.

Immediately after, Kitkit’s strength vanished, and his eyes closed. Pinn asked everyone to step back. He checked for airflow from the host’s nose and began chest compressions at one hundred five compressions per minute. Next, he examined the pulse on his wrist. But it was too late: Kitkit’s body lay lifeless on the wooden floor.

“How horrific, oh my God! And in such a remote place!” exclaimed Mouna.

“So far indeed! How long will it take for the police to arrive!?” added Tània.

“It must have been something from the picnic in the afternoon; let us all pray for Kitkit!” said Travis, placing both hands together in front of his chest.

Time froze during the next ten minutes. Pinn then announced that Mr Kitkit was, indeed, dead, which caused a wave of shock around the room. Some of the guests started wandering around, not knowing how to proceed, while others stuck to sitting down with their thoughts. The detective belonged to the second group, although, unlike the rest, his mind was busy tying together the pieces of a big puzzle. He knew that the mansion was in a remote place and nothing could prevent these people from leaving before the police got there. That case had to be solved in that very place, at that very moment.

Pinn stood up with determination and quickly approached the corpse. He leaned down and smelled the mouth, without detecting anything useful. Then, he examined the clothes and the skin of the victim, searching for traces of an entry point for some type of poison.

After that, he went close to Tània and sniffed close to her face. Her eyes, wet with tears, suddenly conveyed absolute confusion.

“What do you think you are doing now? Do you believe I poisoned him with a kiss?”

The detective smelled her lips and shook his head, still silent.

“Say something!” asked some of the guests when he started walking up and down.

“If you do not have anything to hide, you ought not to worry. I am sure poor Kitkit is the only victim of this night -he said before turning to Alissa”. Would you mind showing me the medicine you gave him?

“I took it straight from the box, everyone saw,” she assured, worried, while displaying what he asked. The detective nodded, satisfied.

“Me too,” added Roberto, showing the little case of chewing gum.

Pinn closed his eyes, pressing two fingers against the bridge of his nose, as if trying to bear the weight of the pressure he was beginning to feel. Inside his mind, he reviewed every interaction the suspects had had with the victim, every offering made to Mr. Kitkit: the chocolate, the pill, the chewing gum, the cigarette, the bonbon, or the kiss.

“How could they have poisoned Mr. Kitkit?” was the question that surfaced in all his thoughts, without yielding an answer. “Which object was the vehicle for the poison?”

The impatience of the guests began to grow when, suddenly, a spark seemed to ignite above the detective, and half a smile appeared at the corners of his lips. Finally, he raised his gaze, his eyes shining with determination.

“I’ve got it.”

Faced with the confused looks of the guests, Pinn added:

“Mr. Kitkit did not only die from poisoning; he was murdered. It was a meticulously orchestrated plan—but I’ve got it now, I know who the culprit is. And I regret to inform you that it is one of you.”

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