MEN, MUSCLE, and MAYHEM

by Milton Stern

  Did you tell him that?

  No. I told him I needed a soda. I left the room to go to the vending machine down the hall. When I came back, there he was. Sitting in the chair with blood coming from his crotch and a hole in his forehead, and his brains all over the back of the chair and the wall behind that.

  What did you do next?

  I called you guys. Or at least I tried. My 911 on my cell phone wouldn’t work, and I didn’t want to touch anything in the room, so I ran downstairs and had the night manager call you.

  That’s pretty incredible. You leave to get a soda, and conveniently, he gets murdered in those five minutes. Where did you hide the gun?

  Again with the fucking gun.

  Who else would have known he was there, Mr. Sagman?

  Maybe someone followed him and waited for me to leave the room.

  How did that person get in the room?

  Well, I never took my key or locked the door when I went to get the soda. I figured Paul for a lot of things, but a thief was never one of them.

  Are you sorry he’s dead?

  No. Why should I be? I am indifferent. I couldn’t care less. But, I didn’t kill him.

  Then, who did, Mr. Sagman? No one else had motive. No one else had opportunity.

  Now, who should watch more crime dramas? First, I didn’t have motive. I didn’t know he lived here. I didn’t have opportunity. Besides, where in the fuck would I get a gun? As I said, I have never shot a gun. I have never owned a gun. I have never been to Missoula in my life, and I didn’t know the selfish prick lived here. But, I can think of three people who had motive … and opportunity.

  Humor me.

  The ex-wife for obvious reasons. The smiling partner because I represented Paul’s pre-straight-marital past – a past it would only take a moron not to figure out – and that would just ruin their picture-perfect existence. Imagine a famous writer knowing the real Paul.

  Sure, he’d frame the writer. The problem with this theory is I didn’t know how either one could have known he was going to pay me a visit until I gave it more thought.

  You see people like Paul make my favorite subjects for my books. They live a double existence. On the outside, they are so moral and just, but they have a side that is just as skeevy as everyone else out there. They think they have everyone fooled, but they don’t. And, do you know how I know these people so well?

  How?

  My mother was one of them. She thought she had everyone fooled. She fooled no one. So, my guess is he had visited a lot of people from his past. A guy like Paul leaves a trail that is hard to cover up. I wasn’t the first guy he visited in a hotel room. Or, the only guy he sent letters to over the years. I wasn’t the only guy he tried to belittle. But, none of us would have the inclination or the desire to kill him. To us, he wasn’t worth it. The wife, I’m not so sure. She had motive, but did she want her son to grow up without a father? And, the smiling partner? Murder would have ruined their perfect life. If anything, he would have murdered me.

  Then who does that leave, Mr. Sagman? You?

  Not me. Have you questioned the son?

  How would a twelve-year-old pull something like this off?

  Very easily. No one would pay attention to a kid going into a hotel and entering a room. Besides, don’t all your kids out here have guns?

  Someone would have noticed the kid.

  I’m through talking.

  Detective?

  What, Baker?

  You’re going to need to let Sagman go.

  Why?

  The kid confessed.

  I’ll send you and your wife tickets to the premiere – both of them, Detective Anthony. Now, if you’ll excuse me, I have plane to catch.

  ABOUT THE AUTHOR

  Residing in Rockville, MD, with his rescue beagle, Esmeralda Stern, Milton Stern is a writer, volunteer, and antique car collector. You can read more at www.miltonstern.com.