WHODUNIT MURDER MYSTERY
SCENE
FRED HENDERSON died on Friday night. Several witnesses in the area heard the gunshot, placing the time of death at shortly after ten o’clock. Inspector McIntyre wasn’t particularly surprised by the news. A low-rent career criminal, Henderson had been violent, and although he had managed to avoid any murder convictions, he had never been likely to enjoy a long life. Appearances suggested that Henderson had been going to a meeting of some sort. There was a note in his breast pocket, and although the bullet had ripped through it and blood had turned it into a soggy mess, the time 10:15 could still be made out.
The bullet that had been extracted out of him was a .38, and it matched the revolver the police had found in an individual trash container a block away. It had been wiped down, but the lab was going over it to see if anything useful came up. In the meantime, three likely candidates had been brought in for questioning, and were waiting for McIntyre in separate interview rooms.
Lorenzo Holbrook was a local restaurateur with unproven ties to the mob. He was in his fifties and medium height with a stocky build. Bushy grey eyes did nothing to disguise his calculating eyes.
Inspector McIntyre introduced himself and slapped a photo of the victim in front of Holbrook. “Do you know this man?”
Holbrook nodded. “Yeah. Fred Henderson, ain’t it? He comes in the Olive Grove sometimes. Lousy tipper.”
“Can you think of anyone who might wish Mr Henderson harm?”
“Nah. Can’t say I know anyone who wishes him well either, mind.”
“He was murdered last night.”
Holbrook shrugged. “Is that so? Tragic. Tragic.”
“What were you doing around 10pm last night?”
“Washing dishes,” said Holbrook. “What else? I got three staff will vouch for it. I saw someone run down the alley behind my place, though. Little ferrety guy in a hat. It was dark. That’s the best I can do, Inspector.”
Toby Black was a cab driver who had done a stint in prison for armed robbery years before. “I was waiting for a fare who never showed,” he explained. “Dispatch will tell you that. I saw your guy, must’ve been. He hung around for a bit, then checked the time and walked into an alley. It was just across the road from me. A moment later, a tall man in a heavy coat walked in behind him. I remember, because the newcomer was as bald as an egg. There was a pop, and your vic just collapsed. Poor guy never even got the chance to turn round. Then the bald man sprinted off past him, down the alley. I was going to go and see if I could help, really I was, but I was scared in case the bald guy decided to come back to doublecheck. If there’s one thing driving a cab has taught me, it’s that you don’t go looking for trouble. Not in this town.”
The final interviewee, Jesse Hamby, worked in a local bar. Tall and muscular with short hair, he didn’t bother hiding his resentment at being called in by the police. When McIntyre showed him the photo, he shook his head silently.
“Are you sure?” asked McIntyre.
“Sure? Heck, no,” Hamby sneered. “I see four hundred different guys in the bar every week.”
“What were you doing around 10pm last night?”
“Walking home.”
“Did you see or hear anything unusual?”
“You mean apart from a chunky old guy who almost smacked into me, and what looked like a dead man huddled in an alley? Nope.”
McIntyre sighed. “What can you tell me about the dead man?”
Hamby tapped the photo. “You got his picture already.”
“Thank you, Mr Hamby. I’ll be back shortly.” Inspector McIntyre rose and left the room.
Outside, he turned to the officer guarding the interview rooms.
“Make sure no one leaves. I have an arrest warrant to finalise.”
Who is the murderer and how does McIntyre know?
HINT: Wound
– Detection level of difficulty: 5/6
Arts, reviews & current affairs 