The Swap

“If you’re going to murder someone – and get away with it,” Simon paused to smoke his pipe, “I suppose that there are only a few options.”

Percy looked at his friend expectantly. Simon was a retired district attorney who was now approaching his early nineties. They had met through some family friends and Percy, who had just graduated from the police academy, always found his stories to be fascinating.

“You can make it seem like there was no murder. A suicide or an accident, perhaps. Or maybe just a missing person. In all of those cases, though, the problem is that there is something to investigate – a dead body or a missing body.

“So that leads to the next step, once the investigations starts, how to avoid getting caught. Of course, the usual answer is to have a great alibi. You have to prove that you weren’t the murderer. That can be done by making the evidence point to someone else or simply by making the evidence prove that it couldn’t have been you.

“Of course, there are many ways to do this, and murder mysteries thrive on finding new ways to stump their readers. In reality, though, most murders are very straightforward.”

“Really? I would have thought that they are very difficult.”

“Oh, no. In 99% of my murder cases, I was certain who the murderer was after just a brief investigation. The trouble comes with gathering enough evidence to prove it in court. That’s why there are so many cold cases, you know. The police know who did it, but they don’t have enough evidence to obtain a conviction. So, rather than pursue innocent people, they let the case go cold, hoping that sometime in the future the murderer will slip up or new evidence discovered.”

“So you’re saying that 99% of all murders get solved in one way or another?” asked Percy.

“Oh, no,” Simon replied between puffs of smoke. “I’m saying that 99% of all discovered murders get solved. Who knows how many other murders are out there that no one ever noticed. You see, in that 1% of unsolved murders we find that successful murderers have used the most cunning and well thought-out plans possible. 

“So, I suppose,” Simon continued, “that there may be many more cunning murders out there that have never even been identified as murders. Who knows how many murderers are free and walking the streets today, totally unsuspected by everyone – even their closest friends and family.”

Percy recoiled at the thought. He knew that from now on he’d look at all of his friends differently than before. This was one of the things he hated about being a police officer.

“What’s the most cunning case you’ve ever seen?”

Simon poured himself another drink and paused thoughtfully for a minute. Finally, he shrugged his shoulders and continued. 

“I’d say it has to be the Troksley case.”

Percy looked at Simon quizzically. He’d studied criminology in school, but had never heard of this one.

“Back in Winston, Ohio, there was a little old lady named Dorothy Crup. A widow, she lived in a dilapidated old house that was in great need of repair. At 92 years old and having no children, Dorothy had out-lived all of her friends and family. She had a few acquaintances in town, but not many.

“One day, a young lawyer approached her house and knocked on the door. He said to her that he was representing the estate of Mr. Fairbanks Troksley. Much to Dorothy’s surprise, Mr. Troksley had recently passed away and had left all of his money to his closest relative. It had taken the lawyer over a year of searching to discover that she, Dorothy Crup, was a fifth cousin of Mr. Troksley and, due to his advanced age and bachelor status, she was his closest living relative.

“As you may imagine, Dorothy was overjoyed. It didn’t bother her at all that the inheritance came with some very unique strings attached.”

“Strings?” Percy asked.

“Yes. There were three conditions to her inheritance. First, Dorothy would have to move to a new home and not contact any of her past friends. Of course, she had none and her home was falling apart, so that was easy to agree to do.

“Second, Dorothy would have to change her name to Helen Troksley. It seems Mr. Troksley wanted the family name to go on as long as possible and so he insisted that whomever inherited the money had the last name Troksley.

“Last, Mr. Troksley also instructed his lawyers that they would manage the money in his estate on behalf of whomever received it, giving them a set allowance each month.

“So, the lawyer explained to Dorothy that once her name change was legally done, she would be moving to a retirement community in Florida and live on a monthly allowance that was about ten times greater than her present income.

“As you may imagine, Ms. Crup was more than happy with the arrangements and eagerly agreed to go forward with the name change and the move. Of course, the lawyer’s office had already prepared the necessary paperwork, so after a few signatures everything was taken care of.

“Not more than two weeks later, Dorothy was picked up by a limousine and taken to the airport and her new home. The lawyer wrapped up all of her affairs in Ohio and took care of the old lady in Florida for three more years until she passed away in her sleep.”

“And that was the murder?” asked Percy.

“Oh, no,” Simon chuckled. “That was the alibi. The murder occurred in Cleveland.”

Percy looked confused.

“The real Helen Troksley was a wealthy lady who lived in Cleveland. A widow and a bitter woman, she had few friends. She did have one son with whom she had a . . . let’s just say . . . difficult relationship. One day, after a particularly bad fight, Mrs. Troksley announced to her son that she was moving to Florida and disinheriting him completely from her fairly significant fortune.

“The son did nothing until a few weeks later when he discovered that his mother was indeed making arrangements to move to a retirement community in Florida. Then he sprang quickly into action. First, he found poor Dorothy Crup and determined that she was indeed all alone, not very intelligent, and probably would only live for a few more years at most.

“Next the young man murdered his mother by smothering her. Then, he put her body in an acid bath that dissolved most of her remains. After pouring the resulting remains down the drain, he took the left-over solid material and buried it out in the country.

“Of course, he simply told any who asked about his mother's whereabouts – and there were very few – that his mother had moved to Florida. The arrival of a moving van shortly after served to confirm the story. Meanwhile, Dorothy Crup, now legally known as Helen Troksley, moved from Winston down to the retirement home in Florida where she was warmly welcomed as the original Helen Troksley. No one suspected that she might be a replacement.

Percy looked stunned.

“All that was left to do was for Dorothy Crup to die, which, as I said, she kindly obliged to do three years later. The young lawyer confirmed for the coroner that the dead body was his mother and no one suspected a thing. Later that year, all of the estate came into his possession with no one to ever guess what happened.”

“How did you solve the case?” Percy asked. “It seems so incredulous.”

“It was an impressive murder,” Simon replied. “There were, of course, some tell-tale indicators that something was amiss. Mrs. Troksley had pierced ears, but Dorothy Crup didn’t, for example. Of course, our young lawyer was smart enough to have her body cremated. And, of course, there were the occasional times that Dorothy used her real name, but most people attributed that to her growing dementia.”

Percy grew impatient with anticipation, “Then how did you solve the case?”

“No one ever did,” Simon answered. “Of course, one fault of successful murderers is that we like to brag about it to others.”

(c) 2016, Kevin H. Grenier