Red Strings

As I looked above the headline of today’s paper into the office in my home, I saw my wife standing with her hands on her hips checking out my map work. She held the red strings connecting who I thought was suspect of the case I’d been working on for three days. She nodded approvingly at my theories.

Minnie came back in the kitchen, smiling at me as she passed by, and poured herself a second cup of Joe.

“What do you think?” I called out from the dining table, half—jokingly.

“It’s a lot to keep track, that’s for sure.”

“Any ideas?”

“The butler with the knife in the library.”

“Wish it was that easy.” I refolded the newspaper and tried relaxing a little. I’ll admit, this case wasn’t difficult but it was certainly getting to me. The pieces weren’t all there, so I tried taking solace in the fact I wasn’t staring at the murderer just yet, I just needed more info. But as far as getting more info, well I had no other leads.

“Who’re you talking with today?” Minnie leaned on the counter.

I liked that she asked. Not that she would give a good opinion on whether I was following a red herring or not. She wouldn’t know jack about the case, and I was glad. Some fellas like their ladies to know all about what they do. Not me. I prefer she knew nothing, so when I’m home I don’t have to think about it at all. Which is alright with her. Still, it’s pleasing that she did ask.

“Think I might take a walk with Albert Guinness. Got a hunch he’s got a few more red strings to connect him elsewhere.”

“He’s Gibson’s chauffeur, am I right?”

I was impressed. “You actually looked at the details. I thought you were just checking on my sanity.”

“You’re sanity’s been long gone, sweetheart,” she winked. “Albert is Gibson’s chaffeur and was driving him around Peterson Square when Deitrichson was shot. It’s all interesting. From the way you’ve strung it together, Gibson’s the likely candidate, but his alibi seems too strong, having stopped for a cigar at the store at that exact time. Seems too convenient, no?”

I set down my paper. Though I don’t want her too involved with my work, this was a nice change. And helpful, more importantly. Might do me good to have a fresh set of ears.

“Something tells me it’s not Gibson, no matter how I spin it.”

“Too easy to put the blame on him?”

“Too dangerous if it was. If Gibson really killed Dietrichson, you and I’d be in a whole lot of mud.”

“Why both of us?”

“Gibson’s the type to buy or threaten his way out of prison. Usually both. So far I’m a few black eyes short to believe he’s behind this.”

Minnie tapped the counter and thought about it. I was beginning to wonder why she wanted to help. She seemed invested, but frankly I think she finds it all fun and games rather than the cold truth I’m dealing with murder. No, she’s too sweet for that.

“I saw Frankie on your board, he’s my hairdresser’s husband, you know,” Minnie admitted innocently.

“I do know, and I was hoping you wouldn’t. I don’t want you worrying about him.”

“How can I not? Does Shelley know Frankie might be involved?”

“He is involved but he’s only an in. He doesn’t know much but he knows who knows who and such. Frankie’s not a clean guy, Minnie, but he’s not getting locked up. At least not for this.”

Minnie twiddled her thumbs, as if she felt guilty. “Perhaps you could take him off your board? It’d make me feel a great deal better knowing he wasn’t involved – that is, knowing I wasn’t so closely tied this case.”

“Sorry, darling, but Frankie is involved. And you’re just as connected as I am, less because I personally know one of the fellas on that board.”

“Who?”

“Harold Shaffer. Friend of a friend that would play billiards with Louis and I some nights.”

“What did Harold do?”

“He knew Deitrichson. He knew where he was headed the night he was shot. In fact, it’s Harold my gut tells me either did it or knows who did it.”

“Then why chat with Albert if you know it’s Harold?”

“Not that easy, darling. You have to play the game of friendship with these crooks. You never stumble upon an answer, it’s only earned if you’ve won the trust of those that did it. You know that it’s more true than we care to admit we oughtta keep our friends close and our enemies closer.”

“Suppose Albert gives you nothing to go off of, at least nothing new. What then?”

“You know, you’re awfully curious this morning, aren’t you?” I laughed. I couldn’t help but ask her after the conversation lasted this long. “Why are you so interested, this of all cases?”

“Well I’ve passed by your board so many times, and then when I saw Frankie’s face I thought I’d take a look.”

“Sure, but you remember Ron Bouvier?”

“Yes, unfortunately.”

“And he was someone we both knew for quite some time. What’s different with this?”

Minnie simply shrugged her shoulders. I chuckled as I stood up and gave her a quick kiss on her little forehead.

“Oh! I meant to have left a minute ago. Sorry, sweetheart, I have to scram. Anyway. Before I go, perhaps you should consider Gibson more closely. The answer is sometimes more obvious than not.” Minnie checked her watch and returned the kiss. She kissed me hard, a wonderful surprise. She left as I tried wiping a stupid smile off my face.

I returned to my office and lit a cigarette to re-examine the chaos of red strings connecting victims to each other in a foolish attempt to find one criminal. It often did make me feel like my sanity had been lost, the convulsion of a map like this made me feel like I over thought what was probably a very easy solution.

The Deitrichson case wasn’t convoluted, it was just too young and I had more people to question. I decided to remind myself, as I often did when I needed to make a long version short of what was happening: Deitrichson was shot in Peterson Square four nights ago in a drive-by, and the likely suspect is, like Minnie said, Gibson. They had quarrels for weeks about some weapons smuggling and Deitrichson threatened to rat him out. But like Minnie also said his alibi was too valid. Sounds like someone planned to pin this one Gibson. That or Gibson planted an alibi to cover it up. No, something still tells me it’s not him. Harold Shaffer told Deitrichson to meet him in the Square to discuss business but never showed up. No doubt Harold knows who did it but even more likely is that Harold won’t snitch. As far as Frankie goes, he’s mixed up only because he’s too dumb to stay outta trouble. Poor guy phoned Harold about an arms deal and suspected they were being spied on, which didn’t have any legs but it did lead in the end to Gibson watching Deitrichson closely. What gets me is Gibson stopping for the cigar. It’s odd, like it’s been staged.

I stuffed my hands in my pocket and took a step closer to the map, trying to notice if I’ve missed any details before I go meet Albert. Minnie’s probably right about him, too. It’s probably a waste of time. She has a good hunch on it all. Even the alibi she pointed out is...

I put my finger on the notecard that’s written out Gibson’s alibi. “Gibson time of shooting bought cigarette, clerk confirmed.” I wrote the wrong tobacco product, but it was indeed a cigar. I must’ve been thinking about my own cigarette when I wrote the word. Gibson purchased an Alec Bradley stogie, clerk showed me the receipt. Why did Minnie say cigar?

She took great interest in this case, never had she been this curious, not even with Ron Bouvier. And now she’s all ears. Minnie asked specifically about Frankie, she’s close with his wife Shelley, perhaps closer than I thought. Maybe...

Frankie called about being spied on, phrasing it in some way to Gibson in order to draw suspicion onto Deitrichson. Frankie had enough evidence to tell Gibson himself about a spy.

No, Minnie isn’t the spy. But she might know. Chances are her girlfriend Shelley is involved, in more ways than one, and she spilled the beans to Minnie while getting her hair done. The dispute between Gibson and Deitrichson was heated enough to certainly motivate Gibson into murdering, but I know deep down it ain’t him. My guess is that Gibson’s cigar is routine, a nightly errand near Peterson Square, and they know it. In fact, the dispute likely came from Frankie and Shelley. However Shelley convinced Minnie to help, she got worried for the only time how my case was coming along.

If I’ve strung these red strings right, I’ll hate myself forever. Because if Shelley is possibly the spy who teamed with her husband to get Deitrichson killed, possibly having done it themselves, the last person I’ve been needing to talk with kissed me goodbye. Keep your friends close... this is too close.