In the morning, Eldon and Grace traveled to Norwell. They traveled by train, the bustling city of Cogdon disappearing behind them, opening up into cold countryside, barren trees yearning for spring. Grace was wrapped tightly in her plaid overcoat in their shared train compartment, gazing out the frosty window. Eldon browsed the morning paper. The trip was scheduled to take just over two hours.

Grace did not ask Eldon for his preliminary speculations, well aware of his aversion to speculate without complete data. Instead, once she tired of looking at passing trees and rolling hills, and he had finished reading the newspaper, she produced a compact magnetic chess set. She opened with pawn c4, attacking the center of the board from the flank in modern style. Eldon responded with a sound defense, in no rush to overextend before developing his pieces. In chess, all data on the game’s state was readily available, the capabilities of each piece known, and any potential continuation could be imagined with enough calculation. It was a pure exercise in making deductions from complete evidence. Their game evolved into a complex endgame, neither player gaining a significant material or positional advantage throughout, and ended in a draw. They played two more games before reaching Norwell, claiming one victory each.

Norwell was smaller than Cogdon. Norwell had more trees, and less smog. It had been built between hillsides, and around the River Wenton, which was currently covered by a layer of smooth ice.

Byron met Eldon and Grace at the train station, and brought them to Wayman’s empty house. It hadn’t been occupied in weeks, a light coating of dust collecting on all surfaces. Byron let the investigators in with a spare key, and Eldon took his time absorbing the space, as if the arrangement of the home would grant insight into the mind of its former inhabitant. Arriving at Wayman’s bedroom, Eldon paid close attention to the cabinet where constables had discovered the stolen pearl necklace, studying the surrounding wood floor with a magnifying glass, then graduating to the walls and furniture, spending several minutes on a scuffed, old chair in the corner of the room. He gathered data in silence.

In her mind, Grace recreated the alleged scene of Wayman returning with the stolen pearl necklace and hiding it atop the cabinet. Wayman was tall, like his brother, so he would have been able to reach the top of the cabinet with relative ease. Why the cabinet? Like analyzing a dubious sacrifice in her chess game with Eldon, Grace found herself questioning the apparent sloppiness of Wayman’s cleanup and getaway. The bloody bootprints at the Barnett home were easily traced back to Wayman, his bloody cane and clothing had been discovered so quickly in the nearby forest, and the pearl necklace was sloppily hidden. Did he want to be caught?

Byron was anxious to hear theories, but Eldon and Grace remained stoic.

They moved on to the Norwell constabulary station by late morning. Chief Inspector Luther Manning knew of the exploits of the Detecting Company, and he was happy discuss when Grace explained that she and Eldon had an interest in the Barnett murder case. Manning recounted his memory of the crime scene, and assured them that the case against Wayman was as solid as he had ever seen. Eldon and Grace asked clarifying questions, referencing the testimonies and photographs that Byron had provided.

Eldon held up two photographs of the open back window from the day of the murder. “Another question for you: notice that in one photograph there’s a glass vase on the edge of the windowsill, but in the other photograph the vase is gone. Why is that?”

Manning scratched his chin. “Oh, yes, I remember, it was that fool Riley Peaton. Young fellow on the force, you know how they are when they’re green. He knocked over the vase after the first photograph had been taken, shattering it on the floor. He splashed water all over Wyatt McPherson’s leg—soaked him through.”

Eldon paused. “Water?”

“Well, yes,” said Manning, glancing between Byron and Grace. “What else would it be?”

Eldon requested admittance to the Barnett home.

Manning agreed to show the empty house to Eldon and Grace, though he noted that the crime scene had long since been cleared. The Barnett home was cold and quiet. The presence of death, from both a violent assault and chronic illness, hung in the air. There was a faded stain on the kitchen floor that cast an ominous tone, a reminder of the horrors that had taken place. Eldon and Grace retraced the steps of Phoebe's killer, from the forced window in the small study, through the narrow hallway, around the corner and into the kitchen. They relived the grisly day kinesthetically.

Eldon moved to the living room, which had been converted into a dignified shrine in memory of Phoebe. Grace ran a finger along the fabric of a folded scarf, waving Eldon over. The scarf was a faded red, made of soft lamb wool.

Grace recalled seeing a matching scarf in Wayman’s bedroom with the same wool material and design. Did Wayman steal a scarf as well as the necklace at the time of the murder? If so, for what purpose? Phoebe’s matching scarf had been nowhere near the pearl necklace, seemingly discarded at the other end of the bedroom. Why steal this particular article of clothing?

Eldon turned to Manning. “I’d like to speak with Wayman. Would that be possible?”

Manning obliged, warning Eldon and Grace to keep their guards up. No matter how docile Wayman appeared, there was something animal below those eyes. They returned to the station, and were ushered to Wayman’s cell at the back.

If Wayman was a threat, then he hid his malice cunningly. He moved slowly. Eldon and Grace introduced themselves to Wayman through iron bars. His voice was soft.

“We’re here to investigate your case,” said Eldon.

“I never killed her,” said Wayman.

“Who did?” said Eldon.

“How can I say?” said Wayman. He lay back on his cot.

“I think you know how the killer got into your house,” said Grace.

“No,” said Wayman.

“Is it that you want to be punished?” said Grace.

Wayman sat up and looked at Grace pensively. “What do you want from me?”

“We want to know your perspective,” said Grace. “I’ve been developing a theory, but a theory is only as good as the data that supports it. Would you confirm it if I’m correct? You knew Phoebe intimately before her demise, unbeknownst to her husband, Seymour.”

“You would tarnish her name with accusations like that?” said Wayman. He looked disgusted.

“She left one of her scarves in your bedroom,” said Grace.

“I don’t know anything about that,” said Wayman. His eyes said otherwise. They were turning red and watery.

“You knew her well, and you trusted her,” said Grace. “You gave her a key to your home, didn’t you?”

A tear rolled down Wayman’s cheek.

“Or am I wrong?” said Grace.

“I would never dishonor her by spreading such… such defamation!” said Wayman.

“Interesting that you would lie about such an important detail,” said Grace. “Though, I imagine all this is some form of self-flagellation to you. Do you blame yourself for her death? If you didn’t kill her, then you don’t deserve this punishment. Think about that.”

Wayman did not speak further. As they walked back through the constabulary, Grace brought up a remaining point of confusion. “If Seymour had a key to Wayman’s home… what about the time of death? Phoebe’s wristwatch was stopped at five-thirteen, and Seymour was working on the other side of Norwell at the time.”

“I sense we are close to the answer, though we are only seeing what has been shown to us,” said Eldon. “We’re still missing data.”

Judge Hayward Tilcot had overseen the trial. Eldon and Grace managed to arrange a meeting with him for the following morning, their chance to convince him to grant Wayman’s appeal. That night, Eldon and Grace sought lodging near the courthouse. Grace saw Eldon searching for the contact information of the Norwell Observatory, before disappearing for some final leg of his investigation. He kept his speculations close, not wanting to taint any competing ideas before they had a chance for development. Grace was left reflecting on the case notes provided by Byron, and the observations that she had made throughout the day, piecing together the truth of Phoebe’s death. What had Eldon found so compelling about the broken vase?

In the morning, Eldon, Grace, Wayman, Judge Tilcot, Chief Inspector Manning, and Constable McPherson gathered in a conference room of the courthouse, seated around a heavy oak table. McPherson kept a suspicious eye on Wayman, who was shackled at the wrists and ankles.

“So, you say you’re acting as Mr. Wayman Hall’s defense, with new evidence to present before his execution?” said Tilcot.

“That’s correct,” said Eldon. “We wish to demonstrate that there is a deeper truth to the death of Phoebe Barnett. Mr. Hall is not guilty of the crime that he is accused of.”

Tilcot checked the wall clock. “Make it quick. I reviewed the evidence of this case, and I can say that it was nothing less than overwhelming against Wayman Hall.”

“Indeed, overwhelming,” said Eldon. “I too have a fair bit of experience in the realm of criminal proceedings, and I’ve rarely seen a more conspicuous defendant. I propose that Wayman did not kill Phoebe, no, he is the victim of a vengeful plot. He was framed by Seymour Barnett, the true murderer.”

“Eldon, we discussed this,” said Manning. “The time of death ruled out Seymour as a suspect.”

“So, we reach the problem of the wristwatch,” said Eldon. “Convenient, isn’t it? That the wristwatch was struck at all?”

“Well, I suspect she raised her arms to defend herself,” said Manning.

“The initial blow was from behind,” said Eldon. “There were no signs of a struggle. The probability that her killer broke her watch in his fury with a stray swing, and then did not remove it or tamper with it… it sounds like a work of detective fiction! Perhaps, a cleverly crafted work of fiction designed to misdirect. And this is not the only oddity that springs forth. Are we to believe that Wayman’s gait spontaneously changed as he left his bloody bootprints? Those prints were not left by a tall, thin-waisted man like Wayman—whoever tracked them through the kitchen was wearing Wayman’s boots, but had a shorter, stockier frame.” Eldon showed a marked up copy of a crime scene photograph, margins crammed with measurements and calculations pertaining to stride length and width. “And why would Wayman hide his bloody clothing and cane so indiscreetly? Constables found the incriminating belongings in the woods almost immediately. The pearl necklace was hidden foolishly as well—high up, as one might expect of someone of Wayman’s stature—but what of the scuff on the cabinet and the thin scratches on the floor from the chair that was dragged from the corner of the room? The dirty mark on the seat of the chair where the shorter thief needed to stand to reach the top of the cabinet?”

“Mr. Glass, this is beginning to sound conspiratorial,” said Tilcot. “Your points are little more than conjecture.”

“I have proof that Wayman did not commit the crime that he is convicted of,” said Eldon. “The water in the vase was not frozen.”

Manning and McPherson shared a confused glance. Tilcot raised a bushy eyebrow. Eldon produced a copy of the Norwell Times from December eleventh, placing it on the oak table.

“If the window of the study had been left open before five-thirteen on December eleventh, then the water in the vase on the windowsill would have been frozen by eight o’clock, when constables began photographing the scene,” said Eldon. “On the evening of the murder, the temperature in Norwell was minus fifteen centigrade. I confirmed this measurement with the Norwich Observatory, and please note the weather section of the local paper from that day. Such a low temperature would be more than cold enough to freeze that quantity of water. Yesterday evening, I tested this theory with several similarly sized vases, at an average temperature of nine below zero, and each sample froze within the expected timeframe. Thus, Constable McPherson would not have been splashed with liquid water, it would have been a solid block of ice. The window was not left open before five-thirteen, it couldn’t have been opened any earlier than seven o’clock, at which point Wayman was already working his shift at the factory.”

The three lawmen ruminated on Eldon’s logic. Manning looked for a moment like he was going to retort, but then he returned to quiet pondering. “It was rather cold that night,” muttered McPherson.

“Perhaps that has some merit as evidence,” said Tilcot tentatively. “But that hardly explains how the killer, Seymour Barnett, according to your theory, found himself equipped with Wayman’s cane and clothing, or how the pearl necklace made its way to Wayman’s bedroom.”

“Reconsider the motivation for this crime,” said Grace. “By the official notes, we have a murder compelled by greed, capped with the theft of Phoebe’s pearl necklace. But Wayman has not exhibited any maniacal behavior before or since, and murder by cane seems an excessive act with an end goal of jewelry theft. Eldon spoke of revenge earlier, the true motivator for this series of events, as I suspect that Seymour learned of his wife’s affair with Wayman, and took it upon himself to seek cruel vengeance on the both of them. Wayman is ashamed to admit it, but he and Phoebe had a secret, intimate relationship, to the degree that he gifted Phoebe a spare key to his home.”

“Hold on,” said Tilcot. He turned to Wayman, who had been sitting silently for the duration of our discussion. “Mr. Hall, what are they speaking of?”

“All that Mr. Glass and Ms. Carrington have said is true,” said Wayman.

“But this is serious!” said Tilcot. “That’s important evidence, why didn’t you bring this up for the past six weeks?”

“I couldn’t do it,” said Wayman. “I knew it would tarnish Phoebe’s memory, and I couldn’t do that to her, not after everything I had already caused.”

“What we have here is an investigation in which the conclusion, Wayman’s guilt, was presumed from the onset, and only evidence that supported this presumption was seriously considered,” said Eldon. “In reality, when we focus on all of the evidence, we can conclude that Seymour stole the spare key from Phoebe, and let himself into Wayman’s house to steal a set of clothing, boots and the cane. When Seymour returned from work on December eleventh, he crept up behind his wife and let loose with the cane, taking out his rage and frustration. He knew that Wayman had been at home earlier in the day, so he turned back the wristwatch to five-thirteen before smashing it with the cane. He broke the latch on his own back window and left it open, hid the bloodied clothing and the murder weapon in the woods, and then used Wayman’s key once again to plant the stolen necklace in Wayman’s bedroom atop his cabinet. With the pieces of his plan in place, Seymour summoned the local constabulary, and furtively guided their investigation. On the wake of the murder, Wayman suffered from a crushing guilt—not the guilt of a murderer, but of a secret flame that indirectly caused the death of his lover. Seymour endured internal suffering as well, his chronic illness likely agitated by the resultant stress and guilt of his actions. His condition worsened rapidly, and, ironically, Seymour succumbed to his illness before he could witness the execution of his romantic adversary, the climax of his grand scheme.”

Tilcot furrowed his brow in contemplation. “You spin an intriguing tale. I will consider the appeal request, but I need a bit of time. Unless you have more to add, you may leave, except for you, Manning, join me in my office and we’ll discuss how best to proceed.”

Eldon and Grace returned to Cogdon that afternoon, stopping briefly to inform Byron of the meeting at the courthouse. The ultimate decision was pending, and out of their hands. Later in the week, back at their city office, Eldon and Grace received a letter of gratitude from the Hall brothers. The investigation had been reopened, and not only had the appeal been granted, but it seemed a pardon was to be bestowed.