Murder Mystery Atlanta
Stories similar to this that you might like too.
We were at the top of a small hill that overlooked downtown Atlanta. The view from my office was breathtaking – and, as it turned out, very important for the case we’d been hired to solve. We were in what passed for an interrogation room in the sheriff’s department where I worked.
There was a chair behind a small table covered with papers, a desk on one side, and a single-pane window on the other. It had no telephone or internet access, not even a television. But there were windows overlooking the city. One of those windows belonged to me.
“This is your office?” Detective Riggs asked incredulously. “No phone? No computer? You’re supposed to be a detective! How do you even work?”
I shrugged apologetically. “The best detectives know how to work without all of the modern gadgets.”
“That means that you’ve solved thousands of cases just like this,” he said proudly. He pointed across the city. “But down there they have computers and stuff. They use them all the time.”
A woman walked up carrying two large cups full of coffee. She poured one into her own cup then set mine beside mine on the table, saying nothing but smiling warmly at Detective Riggs before hurrying away again. I smiled back at her. She was young, maybe a couple years younger than me, and looked very much like my daughter.
Her brown hair, cut short, curled around her cheeks, making her look like she didn’t care too much about fashion. But when I saw the smile on her face I knew there must be a story behind those glasses. Maybe she needed money to go to school. Or maybe she loved her job working here because it meant being close to her favorite people – her mother and son.
And it might even mean that she loved him so much that she couldn’t bear to spend more than a few minutes alone with him without worrying that something terrible would happen to him.
And if she was worried about my son… Well, there probably wasn’t anything I could do about that now, so I pushed those thoughts aside and focused on the present. On the case.
Riggs took a long swallow from his coffee cup and sighed happily. “So tell me, Sheriff, how does it feel to finally get the chance to be in charge of your own department? To make all these decisions yourself instead of letting someone else handle them for you?”
It was tempting to answer with sarcasm. The man had already tried to intimidate me once today. It wouldn’t be wise to let him win twice. Instead, I gave him the most sincere smile I could manage.
“Well, Detective Riggs, I’m still getting used to it. It’s different than any of my past jobs.” I paused. “But it feels perfect.”
“Why don’t you take over the department someday, Sheriff?” Riggs asked. “You’ll never have to deal with anyone messing around behind your back again.”
His tone sounded more like he was asking for permission than suggesting an opportunity, but I chose to ignore that for the moment. I nodded slowly.
“Maybe someday,” I said. “If things work out right.”
He grinned at me, apparently pleased by the way I had deflected his question. But after taking another sip from his mug, he leaned forward, elbows on the table.
“Do you think there’s more to this murder case than meets the eye?” he asked quietly. He tapped his fingers on the edge of the table. “Because you haven’t been able to find a connection between either the victims or their killers yet.”
For an instant, I thought he might ask me about my son. But then his eyes went wide. His mouth opened and closed several times. Then he burst out laughing, leaning back in his chair as if the world’s greatest joke had just been told. Finally, he gasped for breath, still chuckling. When he caught his composure, he wiped tears from his eyes.
“Okay. Okay,” he said, finally catching his breath. “Sorry. That was hilarious.” He looked at me apologetically. “But why don’t you tell me what you’ve found so far anyway?”
“I’m not sure there’s much to find,” I said carefully. “Both men had their throats slashed open. They were murdered somewhere else, then their bodies were dumped here. As far as I can determine, there are no connections between them except both happened to be homeless. I think their deaths could have easily been related – or not. It could be a coincidence.”
Riggs nodded thoughtfully, stroking the stubble on his jaw as he stared at the wall. I waited for him to say something, anything. I wanted him to give me some idea of where he stood. If we were on opposite sides of the same case, I preferred to know that now rather than later.
So far the man hadn’t even tried to intimidate me. Had his wife talked him into being nice because she’d given birth to his baby daughter?
“There’s only one thing left to check, Sheriff,” Riggs said slowly. “Are you going to tell me?”
When he raised his eyes again, they seemed sad. “What?”
“Is there any chance that my little girl is dead too?”
I froze, staring at him. For an instant, I was tempted to lie, but then I realized there was no point in deceiving him. He’d see through it. And if he learned later that I had lied to him… Well, he would hate me forever, I imagined. No matter what I said now, we would never be friends again.
“Yes,” I said, finally meeting his gaze directly. “She’s gone.”
“Oh, hell!” he exclaimed. “I’m sorry.”
I nodded sadly.
He rubbed his hands across his face as he sat there rubbing his temples. His forehead was slick with sweat. A few moments passed before he spoke again.
“My God,” he said, looking at me intently, “you really should go talk to your parents. Right away.”
“What do you mean?”
“You’re not thinking straight. Your mind must be in such a mess, you wouldn’t notice that your little girl isn’t missing until she was too late to save her life. You need to get out of here. Get help, talk to family.”
He reached out for the phone on the table, pulled it toward himself, and punched in a number. I knew I should stop him, and warn him that he shouldn’t call the station. But I didn’t want to ruin his relationship with his daughter. She needed someone she could depend on.
“Hey,” Riggs said into the receiver. “Yeah, Dad…” He swallowed hard. “…I know, I know, you guys always liked to keep us apart… But I really need you right now.”
It took several seconds for my brain to catch up with what I’d heard.
“Sheriff…” The word barely left my lips when I realized I had just spoken without thinking first.
He turned his attention back to me, seeming amused by the way I’d let my mouth run off my head like an idiot dog.
“…Dad! What are you doing? Where are you? You’re supposed to be at home right now, watching the baby. Are you drunk?” He paused, listening. “No, it’s okay,” he said after a moment. “We’ll talk in the morning. Bye.”
The sheriff dropped the phone back onto the cradle. He gave me a crooked smile.
“Just like old times, huh?”
I shrugged, unable to speak. My throat felt thick and choked like I might start crying. All kinds of terrible thoughts rushed into my head all at once: Had my dad found out about my affair with Sheriff Murchison? Was he furious with me?
Had my dad called Riggs, telling him everything that had happened with the two lawmen, including the fact that I was the one who had killed them in self-defense? If so, how long did they think I’d planned to wait to confess to that crime? How angry was my father right now? And what was Riggs planning to do about it?
If my father knew what I’d done, he’d probably come down here immediately, wanting to kill me for murdering his son. Or maybe he’d call Riggs, tell him not to press charges against me, and then offer to pay my bail so I could be released from jail.
Then, instead of spending Christmas alone, he and his daughter would share some time together while I sat in a cell waiting for my trial date. If that wasn’t bad enough, Riggs’ wife could visit with her new grandchild while they waited for me to show up in court…
***
As far as I could figure, Riggs was going to handle it his way. He hadn’t been happy about his daughter knowing about our relationship, but he hadn’t forbidden her to see me. Now, I thought, things were going to change. I looked at the sheriff, expecting him to give me some kind of sign about what he wanted to happen next.
Instead, Riggs got to his feet and moved toward the door.
“I’m sure we can find you somewhere else to stay tonight,” he said to me as he passed me by. “But if you really want to be here, we won’t make a fuss over it. In the morning, though, I’m sure it’ll be better for you if you just go home.”
I stood there watching him leave.
***
When Riggs stepped inside, he glanced around the room at me, his eyes taking in every inch of my face, searching my expression. After several long minutes, he finally seemed satisfied. Then, turning, he walked past his office and headed straight downstairs.
He was halfway down the stairs when his phone rang. He answered it quickly.
“Hello,” he said into the receiver, still walking away from me, “Yes…”
His voice dropped low. I couldn’t hear any words being exchanged, but the sheriff stopped moving and listened. Then he turned around.
“Oh my God,” Riggs murmured through chattering teeth. “Are you sure? Okay. Good, good. We’ll get right on it. Yes sir.”
He hung up the phone and hurried down the hallway to his office. His shoulders slumped under the weight of the news he carried with him.
For several long moments, he didn’t speak. Then, he turned back to me, shaking his head sadly.
“I need a drink.”
I started to shake my head.
“What?” he said. “Of course, I’ve had more than one already today. You must have noticed that.” He grinned at me, showing no hint of the pain his family’s latest crisis had caused him. “Now, why don’t you go ahead and get dressed, Mrs. O’Malley.
This is where I tell you that I’m sorry I lied about you being married before, but the truth is that I haven’t been able to find a reason yet not to keep this little secret between us? That’s why I asked you to come along so that you’d know something was wrong. So you could help me figure out what I should do about it.”
Riggs opened his desk drawer and took out three small bottles, holding them up for me to take. One was vodka; one was Jack Daniels; and the last was some kind of bourbon.
“There are glasses in the cabinet over the stove, in case you don’t have your own,” he said, handing me a bottle. “And there’s a corkscrew in the fridge. There’s also ice in the freezer compartment.”
He pointed to an old-fashioned metal contraption near the top of the refrigerator. It looked like a meat slicer, only it came in pieces and was designed for making ice cubes.
“That thing is the greatest invention since sliced bread,” Riggs told me, smiling widely. He reached in again and took another drink before reaching for the whisky decanter in the bottom of the cabinet.
With his free hand, he picked up the two cups left on the desk.
“You’re not going to tell me that the ice maker isn’t a great idea either,” he muttered, pouring out several generous shots for himself. He handed me mine and set the decanter aside.
Then, after setting a couple more chairs at the kitchen table, Riggs led me back upstairs. Once he’d settled me into his guestroom, he went downstairs and made coffee. I’d seen his wife, Marie, doing the same thing many times, but I hadn’t realized how much he relied on her until he took care of everything without asking her. She might be gone, but Riggs seemed determined to make sure she wasn’t forgotten.
After the sheriff filled his cup with steaming hot joe, he headed out to his truck.
I followed him outside with my drink in hand. The wind had died down a bit.
“Thanks for inviting me over to the station,” I told him. “It was nice to meet someone who didn’t assume I was a criminal just because I work as a private investigator.”
“Not everyone assumes that, Sam. Not everyone.”
The sheriff climbed in his truck and drove off.
The End