“Because it’s still on your hands, Julie Francia. And yes, you’re the one I’m accusing of killing Betty.”
I pointed at her.
The room fell silent as everyone turned to look at the woman I had just identified as the culprit. Julie’s eyes widened in shock.
“A-are you kidding me? Why would the evidence be on my hands? And if I really killed Betty, why would I leave evidence behind?”
“Evidence remains in the culprit’s possession when they don’t have enough time to dispose of it. Another reason is that they don’t want to be caught too easily. But for now, let’s focus on the first reason. Just like what happened today—we rushed over here the moment we heard one of your friends scream. Unfortunately for you, you ran out of time and had no choice but to keep the evidence on your person.”
She smiled stubbornly, refusing to back down. Crossing her arms, she once again exposed her wristwatch.
“You have a point,” she laughed. “But who in their right mind would keep evidence of their own crime? Anyone would know they’d get caught once the police conducted a body search.”
This time, I was the one who laughed.
That wasn’t the right question. The real question should be: who in their right mind would kill someone?
Even if people have wronged us, we don’t have the right to take their lives. If you kill a murderer, the number of murderers remains the same, doesn’t it?
“Police officers usually don’t conduct a body search when there’s already enough evidence at the crime scene. You know, I thought of another reason why evidence remains in a criminal’s hands.”
Everyone listened.
“Because they can’t remove it.”
I looked directly at her.
“When I said the evidence was on your hand, I meant that literally.”
Julie immediately glanced at her hand. Her eyes widened even more, and I could clearly see the tremble in her fingers.
“As I said, the evidence is on your hand. Do you remember what you did to transfer the poison to Betty? You placed a small amount of cyanide on your bare hand and shook Betty’s hand. Yes, it was risky, but you were determined and unwilling to back out, so you went through with it.”
“If that’s true, then why was Betty the only one affected?” Leo interrupted. “With such a dangerous method, Julie herself could have been poisoned.”
“She planned everything carefully,” I replied. “Good research makes life safer. She knew that cyanide ions interfere with cellular respiration, preventing the body’s tissues from using oxygen. She also knew that treatment involves supportive care and administering 100% oxygen.”
I pointed toward her wristwatch.
“What she did was intentionally spill the glass of water beside her and let it run over her palm. I noticed it the moment I saw her watch. There was moisture trapped inside it.”
Everyone remained silent, trying to process my explanation.
I turned back to Julie.
“You weren’t sure whether your first aid would be enough, so you also drank the water you brought with you. And to remove the scent of cyanide from your hand, you applied alcohol containing ethyl compounds. Meanwhile, Betty had no idea what you were planning. She immediately picked up a slice of apple pie with that same hand and ate it along with the poison.”
The crowd stared in disbelief.
It sounded impossible, but human beings are capable of terrifying things when they set their minds to them.
“How could you do that to Betty?” Darieshell shouted, tears in her eyes. “She was our friend! Why did you kill her?”
“Shut up!” Julie snapped. “Those are just accusations! There’s still no solid evidence! Why are all of you believing him already? Huh? I’m not crazy enough to kill someone—especially my own friend!”
I sighed.
Why do people keep denying the truth even when they know they’ve already been exposed?
“Because you used your bare hand to handle a toxic substance, traces of cyanosis likely remained. It usually leaves a pinkish or cherry-red discoloration. Once the forensic team examines your hand, I’m certain it will match the traces found on Betty’s hand. And if you’re still looking for evidence, there’s probably a container of the toxin inside your bag.”
Leo immediately searched both her hand and her bag.
A moment later, he looked up.
“You were right. It’s here.”
“B-but I was the first one to shake Betty’s hand!” Darieshell cried. “I’m the one who created the opportunity. This is my fault too. If I hadn’t announced the news about her and Tristan, Julie wouldn’t have had a reason to shake Betty’s hand.”
See?
A moment ago, she was practically condemning Julie. Now she was trying to shield her friend.
Humans really are difficult to understand.
“You’re mistaken,” I said. “Julie could have created her own opportunity. It’s possible she already knew about Betty and Tristan’s relationship.”
Nica spoke up, and I nodded in agreement.
“But there’s one thing you didn’t know, Julie...” I shifted my gaze toward Tristan. “That relationship was fake. It was only meant to make someone jealous. Am I right?”
Tristan looked stunned that we had figured it out.
After a moment of hesitation, he answered.
“Y-yes. You’re right. Betty and I were only pretending to date so we could make Marivic jealous. I thought that if she got jealous, maybe she’d come back to me.”
He lowered his head.
“They say jealousy is the fastest path to love, so I took the gamble. I asked Betty to help me with my childish plan. At first, she refused because she was worried about how her friends would feel—especially you, Julie. But I kept insisting until she finally agreed.”
I stopped speaking and simply listened.
The moment I noticed Julie’s watch, I already sensed something suspicious about her. She wore it on her right wrist, which suggested she was left-handed. Yet when she shook Betty’s hand, she used her right hand instead. That made me suspect there was something on it.
The untouched slice of apple pie on the table only reinforced my suspicion. She was probably afraid of poisoning herself, so she deliberately avoided eating it.
“W-what do you mean?” Julie whispered.
Her voice trembled.
“Tristan...? What do you mean it was fake?”
She stared at him in disbelief.
“Don’t tell me…”
Tears welled up in her eyes.
“Don’t tell me I killed my friend... for nothing?”