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At the Scene of the Crime by Stephen D. Rogers Officer Flynn looked up in surprise as a man stepped from the bathroom to say, "You're under arrest."
Flynn reassured himself that he was the only other person in the living room. "Excuse me?"
"You're under arrest. Like any good criminal, you've returned to the scene of the crime. That's the problem with stereotypical behavior."
"I'm dusting for prints." Flynn motioned towards his open kit. "If this is some kind of joke, my birthday's not until Wednesday."
The man laughed. "Sorry, I didn't recognize you. I'm Inspector Roth, on loan from the State Police after a transfer from the Secret Service. Army Intelligence has long been keeping an eye on this location."
With a quick shrug, Flynn went back to dusting the tabletop. "Welcome aboard. I'm Flynn from Prints and Photos. I hope you didn't touch anything in there."
"Don't worry, I washed my hands afterwards."
"I meant I hadn't dusted the bathroom yet."
Roth lowered his voice. "I'm not usually one to complain, but it was quite filthy."
It was little wonder that Roth was transferred so often. "Is this your first burglary?"
"Today, yes. A fortune in diamonds, wasn't it?"
Flynn sniffed, relieved to be back on normal ground. "Why does someone living on the middle floor of a triple-decker keep a stash of stones on the premises?"
"That's what the CIA would like to know. At least the owners installed an adequate silent alarm." Roth glanced around the room. "You haven't seen a trumpet in your travels, have you?"
Flynn paused. "A trumpet?"
"Yes, wind instrument, rhymes with strumpet." Roth waved him away. "Don't bother yourself, I'll continue the search on my own."
With that as an exit line, Roth stormed into the kitchen.
"Ah ha!"
Detective Wilson jumped, raising a hand to her chest. "You startled me."
"Guilty conscience? Perhaps you can ask the prison librarian to let you read a little CRIME AND PUNISHMENT to help you fill the empty hours. You're under arrest."
Wilson closed the cupboard she'd been examining. "I'm under...who are you?"
"Inspector Roth. The State Police sent me."
"Well, I'm Detective Wilson. The Captain sent me."
"Pleased to meet you, Detective Wilson." Roth held out his hand. "I apologize for the confusion."
"That's quite all right." She smiled, remembering the Captain's latest memo about improving inter-agency relations. "Believe me, I'm no stranger to sleep deprivation. Children?"
"No thanks, I already have one."
Unable to determine whether Roth had been joking, Wilson kept a straight face. "Why the interest at the state level?"
"Actually it's federal with international implications. The diamonds are being smuggled into the country to buy drugs. However, most drugstore cashiers can't open the safe, never mind use a jeweler's loupe."
While Wilson mulled that over, Roth opened the refrigerator and peered inside. "I don't suppose you've seen any evidence of crumpet."
"Crumpet?"
Letting the refrigerator swing shut, Roth nodded. "Grilled muffin, big in England, rhymes with trumpet."
"Trumpet?"
Roth held up a hand. "Don't look at me, I'm no expert. If you have questions of a musical nature, you want to direct them towards the officer dusting the living room."
Wilson wondered whether the State Police were trying to sabotage the investigation for political reasons. "I'm sorry, but I think I must have missed something."
Roth pointed at the outside door. "Did you try the fire escape?"
"The fire escape." Wilson took a deep breath and tried to compose herself. The Captain was counting on her. "I'm not sure."
"Allow me."
Roth climbed out onto the fire escape and poked the arm of the uniformed officer standing guard. "You're under arrest."
The young officer stiffened. "I didn't take anything."
Roth winked. "Are you implying that you left something, perhaps planted false evidence in order to gain a conviction?"
"I did nothing of the sort."
"That's what they all say which means since you're no longer the least likely suspect that you must be innocent." Roth took a slow, deep breath. "Don't you just love being outdoors?"
The officer weighed his words carefully, knowing that Internal Affairs would twist anything he said against him. "Sure."
"That's why I've stayed with the State Police all these years instead of going into store security. You'd be surprised how much of this state is outdoors."
"Sure."
Roth suddenly laughed, nearly causing the skittish officer to jump. "There was this DEA agent that I knew who hated field work. More than anything, he wanted to sit at a desk in an office, one of those big rooms divided into cubes where the employees never see the outside world. He was so excited when he posted for a position at the Department of the Interior. Boy was he surprised."
"Sure."
"Well, as much as I'd like to, I can't stand around all day shooting the breeze. For one thing I'd have to requisition more bullets." Roth playfully punched the officer in the shoulder.
"Sure."
Roth leaned close to the officer. "If I may make a suggestion, you'd prove more of an asset to the force if you paid less attention to the fire escape and more attention to the burglar escape."
"Are you feeling okay?"
"Never been better. Thanks for your concern." Starting down the stairs, Roth called back over his shoulder, "When the Captain arrives, remind him that he owes Inspector Roth a strumpet."
The officer leaned over the railing. "Strumpet?"
Roth laughed as he reached the ground and pointed west. "No, but if you go down about twelve blocks, there's a street corner full of them."
Tipping an imaginary hat, the Inspector headed east.
It was too bad he couldn't be at the scene of the crime when the Captain arrived. Once he collated the tales and counted to ten or perhaps twenty, he'd exile the three officers to the midnight shift--if he didn't try to hang them for aiding and abetting.
Roth Lumpett reached into his pockets and let his fingers sift through the diamonds. After such a stressful burglary, he might just need to take the rest of the day off. THE END Stephen D. Rogers © 2006 |
Over
three hundred of Stephen's stories and poems have been selected to
appear in more than a hundred publications. His website,