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Detective Charley Pearson parked behind the ambulance at the curb outside of Hoagies Heroes. The sandwich shop was a local favorite. Now he wondered if a dead body inside the establishment would be bad for business. Then again, the town gossip might boost sales. He’d seen it before. Not that it mattered to him. Pearson wouldn’t be eating here anytime soon. If ever.
The front door had been propped open, but a city cop was standing inside the entryway, a clipboard in hand. The deputy jotted Pearson’s name and badge number before letting him pass.
Two tables still had food and beverages, which had been abandoned by their customers.
A dead body lay slumped across the seat of the booth. John Doe had eaten half of his sandwich and most of the chips on his plate before getting the call from the Grim Reaper.
Pearson used an app on his cell to take the man’s fingerprints. With any luck John Doe was in the system. Several minutes later, the results came back to the man’s identity. Bobby Jones, aka the Ghost, had been a hitman for the mob. Now someone had whacked him. Or so it appeared.
Pearson stared at the glass of water on the table. Condensation ran down the sides, which looked out of place. Not the condensation, but the fact this man had a glass, instead of a paper cup. He wondered if the man received special perks for being someone of stature, although he wasn’t sure. He didn’t believe it to be a wise decision for the Ghost to announce himself. Especially in a public establishment.
Pearson continued to search for clues as to who the killer might be. The problem is he didn’t see any outwardly signs of the man’s demise. No bullet holes, strangulation, or stab wounds. Nothing to indicate murder. Poison appeared to be the only logical choice. And that’s if this is how the man died.
One thing did appear odd. If the Ghost ate so much food, why would the glass still be full? They didn’t have a wait staff here to refill drinks. And why the glass cup?
There were still too many questions and not enough answers. But this was the way investigations worked. First was the pursuit of countless dead ends. Next you add the colossal chunks of wasted time and energy. Then throw in the many obstacles along the way. You mix it altogether and the truth is in there somewhere.
But Pearson feared his case, like the body of the Ghost had gone cold before he even got started. Someone wanted this man dead, but who?
The glass appeared to be the single thing out of place, therefore the only clue to work with.
Pearson kneeled and moved toward the man’s lips. He took in the faint scent of bitter almonds. He stood and waved a crime scene tech over named Valerie Swanson.
“Can you test to see if the victim was poisoned with cyanide?”
“Sure can,” Swanson said. “It’ll take a moment to get set up.”
The tech removed a small, black device about the size and shape of a printer cartridge from her crime scene kit.
Then Swanson pricked the Ghosts finger, like a diabetic would do to measure blood sugar, and placed the sample into the cartridge device.
Pearson walked into the kitchen to kill time as he waited on the results. Maybe he’d get lucky and stumble on another clue. Before he reached the door, Swanson announced, “Positive for cyanide.”
“Great. Now all I need is a suspect.”
Swanson smiled. “Sorry. Can’t help you there.”
He nodded and walked to the officer standing at the front door.
“Did you get the names of the customers and employees when you arrived on scene?”
He pointed to another officer standing outside. “Johnson has them over there.”
“Thank you.”
Pearson approached Johnson. “Can you give me a quick rundown of the players here?”
“Sure. There were five customers when your John Doe collapsed. A husband-and-wife dining at a booth and three sailors at another table.”
“How many employees?”
“One. Apparently the other called out sick tonight.”
Pearson figured he was grasping at straws, but one of them might be his killer.
He approached the husband and wife. “What can you tell me about the deceased?”
“Not much,” the wife said. “We’d just sat down to eat when the man collapsed. One of the three men sitting at a table near us rushed over to check for a pulse. When he didn’t find one, he got the attention of the guy working behind the counter to call nine-one-one.”
He asked the couple several more questions which didn’t reveal anything to solve the case.
Next, he decided to talk to the employee.
“What can you tell me about the deceased?”
“Patrick comes in about once a month.”
“His name is Patrick?” Pearson figured the man used an alias since he wouldn’t want his real identity known.
“Yes. Or at least that’s what he told me. Why? Is that not his real name?”
“Just trying to get an identity. We had him listed as a John Doe for the moment. Did he ever give a last name?”
“Not that I ever recall. He never really talked too much. Mostly kept to himself.”
“Does he use the same booth every time?”
“Yes. The Ghost isn’t too keen on sharing.”
“And did he always get a glass instead of a paper cup?”
“That’s Patrick for you. Only the best for that guy. We may not be a ritzy restaurant, but we do what we can when we can.”
“Did you notice anything out of the ordinary tonight?”
“Other than Patrick dying, no.”
“Thank you.”
“Hope I’ve been helpful.”
Pearson thanked him again and made his way to the three sailors.
“Did any of you notice someone sitting with the deceased?”
One of them said, “Only the dude making sandwiches.”
“Did he stay long?”
A second guy said, “They chatted for a bit, until the man and woman came in. He got up and went behind the counter to get their orders.”
“Do you guys come here often?” Pearson asked.
The third guy said, “At least three times a week.”
“Have you ever seen the deceased here before?”
All three shook their heads.
Pearson didn’t know what else to say. The investigation was running cold. He was about to leave when he thought of something. “Did you see the employee bring anything out to the deceased?”
They seemed to think about the question. Two eventually shook their heads. The third said, “Yeah. He brought the man a fresh glass of water.”
One of the others snapped his fingers. “That’s right. I only remember because when he left to meet the two customers, he grabbed the man’s empty glass from the table.”
Pearson thanked them. He figured the empty glass might contain the cyanide. Or at least that was his theory. But theories weren’t evidence. As he made his way toward the kitchen, he realized the employee unwittingly identified himself as the killer.
Did you uncover the clue?
The employee may have known Bobby Jones as Patrick, but he slipped up when he referred to him as the Ghost.
The only way the employee could have known Jones was the Ghost is if he knew who the man’s real identity.