In the corner of a luxury bungalow, which was owned by the mayor of Crystal Cove where people were sparse, a body was lying still on the floor. The victim was the poor younger son of the Mayor Jone. He used to have a bright, unlimited future full of unlimited possibilities, but him, now, whose body started to turn whitish, cold, holding a cigarette in the right hand, slept silently forever.
Mayor Jone was frustrated that he shouted so loudly, turning the atmosphere silent in the enormous house. “What do you mean you don’t know who did it?”
“There are too many suspects in here. Anyone could’ve done it,” answered the detective calmly.
The greatest detective in the town closed his eyes and thought thoroughly about how the poison could have gone into the healthy and cheerful man. The factor that caused the tall clever, handsome looking victim was confirmed. It was the juice of the deadly and murderous plants planted in the garden, the oleander plant. The only thing that was full of mystery was how the victim was poisoned.
The poison couldn’t be added into the delicious, well-prepared food at the party. In fact, everyone had eaten it. It couldn’t be on the utensils which the victim used too. Accurately, he hadn’t eaten anything since he showed up at the party because everyone was looking forward to talk with the thoughtful and smart young man.
The detective opened his sharp, confident eyes suddenly, rubbing the end of his moustache with his thumb and forefinger. He seemed to have something in his mind. He took a deep breath and said something in his low-pitched voice. “Cigarette.”
“The cigarette. It must be it. The poison couldn’t have gone into his body through his skin or he had something else earlier as the poison killed almost immediately. It should be the cigarette his brother gave him!”
The man standing beside the mayor, shivering, not because of the coldness but the frightened feeling inside his head said something softly, “Why you. It was a perfect plan. No one would notice the cigarette if it wasn’t for you spoiling my beautifully designed assassination.”
“Well, if you really wanted it to become an unsolved mystery, never ever leave this evidence lying so obviously on the floor.”
The detective took out a handkerchief, gently picked up the half burned out cigarette, threw it so accurately into a dustbin nearby, as if he had practiced it before, then left the party, showing his formidable back to the crowd.