The Criminal Is Caught
Drew stood still for a moment, shocked.
“Who's been killed?”
“An older man, Robert Van Doren.”
“Robert…,” Drew muttered under his breath.
“You knew him?” Paul Orman asked; he looked surprised.
“No, I have, well had, an interview with him tomorrow.”
“If you don't mind me asking, why did you have an interview with him?”
Drew sighed. “Fine. I'm trying to become an detective for the FBI.”
“Okay then… Mr Rockefeller, will you solve this case for us? We will pay you too.”
“Captain Orman, I will do my best to solve this murder.”
Robert Van Doren was the head of the FBI. He was staying in one of the suites, room 6987.
Drew and the captain hurried to the scene of the crime, their footsteps echoing in the empty, silent halls.
The door to room 6987 was propped open. One of the guards stood nearby watching. Drew wrinkled his nose; coming from the room was a foul odour.
They advanced inside. The front sitting room looked normal; there was no sign that anything had happened, other than the horrible smell inhabiting the entire cabin.
“Put these on,” Paul said, handing Drew a pair of latex gloves.
Inside the bedroom they found Robert Van Doren. He was lying on the floor, arms and legs bent awkwardly, as though he had fallen.
In the middle of his chest there was a bloody bullet hole, exactly where his heart was. Robert’s eyes were open and a look of surprise and fear was etched across his face.
“What we don't understand,” the captain slowly said. “Is how he was shot and no one heard the gunshot.”
“The gun must have been silenced,” Drew replied.
Drew pulled out a flashlight and shone it on random surfaces, looking for fingerprints.
“Great,” he said sarcastically. “The killer left no fingerprints, not even on the door knob. But they did leave a footprint,” Drew said, pointing towards the door way.
There was a faint footprint, facing towards the door. Drew pulled out a ruler and crouched beside the footprint.
“If you measure the length of the footprint itself and the length between each footprint, you'll have a approximate height. I would say that our suspect is about six feet.”
“What should we do now?”
“Find the suspects. We need to go to all the rooms on the floor. You take rooms 6987 and up, I'll do the rest.”
Drew knocked on the first door, room 6987. A bleary eyed woman in night clothes opened the door.
“Good Morning,” Drew said, with a firm voice.
She looked at him for a moment, then replied. “It ain't morning, it's the middle of the bloody night!”
“It's 5:00 am, I would hardly call that the middle of the night. Anyways, did you hear anything last night? A struggle, or a gunshot maybe?”
“No…, why would I hear a gunshot?”
“The man in the room beside you, Robert Van Doren, was murdered last night.”The woman's eyes go wide. “I-I didn't hear any-anything.”
“I know,” Drew says. This woman could not be the killer. “But for later, what is your full name?”
“Rose, Rose Loin.”
“Alright, thank you for your time, Miss Loin.”
Drew walked away. Rose closed and locked the door.
“Drew!” Paul Orman was down the hall, calling him over. Joseph Astor was with him and holding what looked like a brown wallet.
“Mr Astor here has already solved your case.”
Drew looked surprised, “what? How could you solve a murder so fast?”
Joseph clears his throat and holds out the tattered beige wallet. “I was heading down to breakfast when I found this laying in the hallway.
Then I gave it Mr Orman, and since the owner, Marcus Rothchild, was only a few doors down, so we went to give it to him.
Mr Rothchild opened the door wearing bloody clothes and when I searched his room, I found a gun.”
Drew closed his eyes for a moment and let this sink in.
“There is no doubt that Marcus Rothchild is guilty, is there, Mr Rockefeller?”
“No, you're right,” Drew admitted. “Where is he now?” He asked the captain.
“Handcuffed in my office. There's now way that he could escape.”
“And the body?”
“In one of the spare freezers, to keep it preserved.”
“Well gentlemen,” Paul Orman addressed both of them. “Thank you both for solving this murder. If you excuse me, I have other matters to attend to.”
The captain walked to the elevator. “One more thing,” he called over his shoulder. “Keep this quiet, for now. I don't want passengers to panic.”
The men all departed.
“Sorry for stealing your case, I didn't mean to,” Joseph said to Drew.
“It's okay,” Drew lied. No, it was not okay. Never before had he failed to solve a case.
“You know, I sort of solve murders myself. I am a forensic pathologist.”
Drew nodded, not really listening to Joseph.
“Well, goodbye,” Joseph said awkwardly.
They parted ways. Drew headed back to his room before realizing, he was hungry.
Drew walked through the doors of the dinning room. Inside half a dozen families fed their small, hungry children.
A few early risers enjoyed the buffet of eggs, bacon, sausages, pancakes, toast, coffee, fresh fruit and juice.
Drew headed to the buffet and grabbed a plate. He grabbed an egg, bacon, toast and to get him through the day, black coffee. Drew sat alone, so he could head back to his room quicker.
While heading upstairs, he spotted Rebecca and Edward. Drew tried to walk faster, so they wouldn't see him but they spotted him anyway.
“Hey Drew,” Rebecca said to him.
“Hi,” Drew said uncomfortably.
“Come on, join us for breakfast!”
“Ah, no thank you I’ve already eaten.”
“Oh,” Rebecca said, looking disappointed. “Join us for lunch then.”
“Come on, Rebecca,” Edward wined like a little kid. “I'm hungry.”
“See you later,” Rebecca called over her shoulder.