A CLEAR CASE OF SELF DEFENSE
The outer door to Mrs. Fabersham's apartment house gave no clue to the chaos which lay beyond. Inspector Lestrade ushered Sherlock Holmes and me through the vestibule, where we viewed what remained of the house's inner door. It had been smashed to bits, and shards of what had been an elegant leaded glass panel lay all about and crunched under our feet. The late Mr. Fabersham lay on his back just inside this inner doorway. His rumpled shirt front and waistcoat were soaked with blood, and three red-rimmed, jagged black holes — no two of which were more than an inch-and-a-half from any other — gave evidence of the entry points of the bullets which had taken his life. Sherlock Holmes took his glass from his pocket and knelt beside the body. He brushed several shards of glass aside so as to get a better look at those fatal punctures.
"What do you think, Watson?" Sherlock Holmes asked me.
"The deceased appears to have been a man in his early forties, considerably overweight. Judging from the condition of the facial tissue and lack of developed musculature, I would say that he had not led an exemplary life Dissipation, I'd say, likely drink. Death was apparently caused by at least one of the three bullets — 38 or somewhat larger caliber I'd say. I'd be surprised if a postmortem examination would reveal anything else."
"Has anyone moved the body?" Holmes asked Lestrade.
"No, Mr. Holmes. He lies just where he was found when the local constable was called," Lestrade explained.
"Mrs. Fabersham admits to having shot her husband?" Holmes asked.
"Yes, she said that she shot him in self defense."
"May I speak to her?" Holmes asked.
"I'll get her," Lestrade replied.
Mrs. Fabersham, a slight young woman with long, flowing brunette hair — who would have been very attractive had it not been for her puffy eyes and tear-stained face — entered the room leaning heavily on Inspector Lestrade's arm.
"I've told the police here everything," Mrs. Fabersham sobbed.
"I am very sorry, madam. If you could endure the pain just one more time, I need to hear the details from you personally," Holmes asked quietly and respectfully.
"Well, as I told the constable and the Inspector here, my husband and I have been having domestic difficulties for some time. No, it was more than difficulties; he was a brute. He abused me. He even beat me when he was in one of his drunken states! Tonight when he went to his usual drinking bout at his club, I told him that he was not to return at all, never to set foot in this house again. He said that that was quite all right with him and he stormed out. Around midnight, though, I heard a terrible noise in the front of the house. The servants had all gone to bed, so I came to see what the trouble might be. I could see that there was someone outside of the leaded glass door banging and beating upon it. At the time I had no idea who it was. I went and retrieved my husband's revolver — wretched thing. It was Henry! He smashed right through the glass door, shattering it as you can see, and charged at me screaming obscenities and announcing that he was going to kill me! Mr. Holmes, I had every reason to believe that he would do just as he threatened. In a moment of panic — and self preservation — I shot him!"
Sobs wracked Mrs. Fabersham's slender body.
"Did you, or anyone, move Mr. Fabersham's body before the constable arrived?" Holmes inquired.
"No, he lay just as he fell. The force of the bullets knocked him over backwards and he never moved. He died instantly, I believe," Mrs. Fabersham explained.
"Very well, madam. You have my thanks and my deepest condolences," said Holmes.
"Well, that explains everything, Mr. Holmes. A clear case of self defense," Lestrade summarized.
"I think now, Inspector, if I were you I'd question Mrs. Fabersham more closely. All is not as it appears here, Lestrade," Holmes cautioned.
What was the circumstance that made Sherlock Holmes suspicious?
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