Inspector Halledjian entered the mansion and looked at the man lying on the floor, a pool of blood around his head. Part of his neck had been ripped out.
“Where were you when Gill was murdered?” he asked Elsie, the new widow.
“I just got back from a modeling gig in Paris. But I couldn’t have done it. I loved Gillie very much!” she sobbed.
“Is there anyone else who could have been around at the time of the murder?” asked Inspector Halledjian.
“Only Kilty, Gill’s brother. He’s a good-
“Scottish, I presume?”
“You’d think, but no... just... weird and off-
“You already said he’s a linguist. There’s no need to repeat yourself. Can you get him?”
A moment later Elsie returned with Kilty.
“I’m Kilty,” he whispered.
“You’ll have to excuse him,” said Elsie. “He’s got a bad case of laryngitis.”
“Kilty, you’re under arrest for the murder of Gill Richardson,” announced Inspector Halledjian.
“How did you know?” whispered Kilty.
“Quite simple,” said Inspector Halledjian as he turned the body over. “This man died because someone tore his larynx out. Only a linguist could kill Gill with devoicing. Besides, you admitted that you’re guilty in the first two words you said to me!”
“I was just saying my name,” whispered Kilty. “You can tell the difference between a /k/ and a /g/ in that context by aspiration.”
“Indeed, but as Mrs. Richardson made clear, you’ve never had any aspiration.”