Case Closed

Two people that night.

“We could talk, you know.”

One body the next morning.

“You know I can’t do that.”

Barely any evidence to find a suspect.

“It’s your reputation, not mine.”

A phone number on a note. Not the victim’s.

“Ah, but remember, dearest. We’re in this together.”

The number was far too familiar.

Nathan was yanked out of his reverie by the deputy snapping his fingers in front of him. “You there, Costas?”

“Y-yeah. Just looking at something, Pat.” He tucked the note into his pocket. The deputy noticed, eyes narrowing only slightly. “Found something, Detective?” he asked.

No point in hiding it. “Yeah, might be a lead. Crumpled note, too hard to read, but has a couple of numbers on it. Might be an address. I’d know if you let me look.”

Deputy Patterson was not necessarily the kind to, as one would say, go by the book. He was certainly the slightest bit suspicious, but he was open to ideas. He and Detective Costas had been working together long enough that he was willing to let it slide. Besides, Nathan got the job done well, even if his methods were a little unorthodox. “I better not get fired for your antics, Costas,” he grumbled in a low voice.

“Don’t worry, I’ll do it right. You have my word, Pat.” The deputy grumbled something unintelligible back. Nathan inwardly sighed in relief. The deputy was one of the few people who let him do things the way he saw fit. Of course, it wasn’t necessarily protocol, or appropriate, but it was a moot point now.

He walked over to the ambulance, where the victim’s secretary sat with a shock blanket draped over him. The young man looked tired and morbidly satisfied. “Old crone got what she deserved,” Nathan heard him mumble. “Breaking my back with paperwork every day—ˮ

“You all right, kid?” The question was rhetorical. As far as Nathan saw, he looked fine. But it was custom. It was planned.

“I ain’t sure I can answer all your questions, pal, but I’ll sure try,” was the reply he received. If anything, the young man even looked a bit smug.

“Just one.” Nathan scanned the boy, his mannerisms, anything he could trace as a tell. One thing that stood out to him was the overall relaxed posture of his frame, despite his boss having just been murdered.

“How was your relationship to the victim?”

The other scoffed, shaking off the shock blanket. “Ms. Dessein? In my opinion, she got what was coming to her,” he said. “Whoever did this was honestly doing a lot of people a favor.”

It wasn’t to say he was wrong. Ms. Dessein, based on her file, was a bit of an unsavory person. But it was extremely incriminating. “Whoever did this?” Nathan repeated.

“I got nothin’ to hide, officer,” the secretary held out open palms. “But Ms. Dessein extorted a lot of folks. I’m indebted to whoever’s involved.”

“I see.” Nathan made a note of the secretary. To his left, he noticed the paramedics within earshot, removing their gloves. Witnesses to his chat with the boy. “Just so you know, you will be called as one of the suspects because of this.”

“I got nothin’ to hide,” he repeated.

Nathan almost pitied him—his attitude would almost certainly land him in prison. Instead, he walked away, to where police were wrapping up and leaving the scene. The deputy looked over at him. “Anything you need, Costas?”

“No, no, I’m done. I’ve got all I need, Pat,” Nathan called back.

The deputy squinted. “You only need the note?”

“This”—he held up the scrap—“is all I want.” Nathan’s eyes glinted with excitement, the same excitement he always had when on the verge of solving a case. “I’ve got the entire thing laid out.”

A moment of hesitance.

What was he to do if the Deputy said no?

Then Deputy Patterson sighed, and waved him away. “Good to see you’ve gotten into the swing of it. Now go, before I change my mind.” He heard Deputy Patterson’s voice trail him to his car. “You’ve only got a few things! Make sure you don’t mess up!”

Nathan almost stopped. Almost.

When he was far enough away from the scene, he parked in a closed gas station and pulled out a lighter, seemingly reaching in the other pocket for a cigarette. Instead, he pulled out the crumpled slip of paper from the scene, examining it by the light of the flame. Sure enough, he was right—the number was all too familiar.

He could hear the ghost of her whisper in his ears.

“We’re in this together.”

She got close, but he was quicker. Not now. Not after this long.

Putting on gloves, he wrote down the phone number of the secretary onto a piece of paper and crumpled it into his pocket. Looking through his records, he searched for the names of the paramedics. His witnesses to confirm a motive. Finally, he held up the note. The one trace of evidence holding the case together.

“Indebted, huh?” he muttered. Well, the boy could do one favor.

It wasn’t a cigarette, but the detective was eased, watching as his own phone number burned to ash before him.

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