A Shot Rang Out at Midnight

A shot rang out at midnight, silver smoke rising from the barrel toward a crescent moon. A man dressed in black ran along the river’s bank to a place he thought was safe, to friends he thought he could trust. In the morning he was face down in the river, floating toward somewhere else his presence was unwelcome.

***

Nathaniel Hall rubbed his eyes against the bright spotlight. “Hey keep that thing off me” he said, his voice laden with the grogginess that comes with being woken up at three o’clock in the morning by a cranky night operator. “Body in the Wash. Factory off Main Street.” They didn’t get too personal on the night shift. Everyone knew that the night shift was where they put people who screwed up. And if you happened to be the night shift manager, well, that meant they felt sorry for you. Right then, though, Hall didn’t care too much about night mangers, operators, or even sleep. He had made it to the edge of the Black River, the Wash as the operator had put it, and was staring at a man face down on the bank. One spotlight was directed on the man while crime scene investigators flashed photos, collected various items into bags, and snatched up the coffee being brought to the scene. Catching sight of police chief Rowlands, Hall caught his arm. 

“I just got here, what’s going on?” 

The Chief pointed to man in a shabby brown jacket and newsboy cap. “Man came out for a smoke, flicked the ashes into the river and saw they didn’t go out. Went to take a look, and realized they landed on this poor fellow. No ID as of yet, but we’ve only been here a half hour. Still waiting for the coroner, actually. Old man is getting harder and harder to get out of bed.” 

“I resent that statement, Will.” A red mop of hair streaked with gray bobbed past them, the face attached to it grinning with a brightness in his eye that could not be found in any other present. Rowlands and Hall followed the older man toward the body. 

“Dr. Hopkins, welcome to the scene.” 

“I trust this man was not moved,” he said, not turning toward the Chief. 

“When the first officers arrived, they pulled him up just out of the water so he wouldn’t float away, but that was all.” 

“Hm.” 

As the flashing of bulbs continued around them, the doctor knelt down next to the body, the other two men remaining silent. The dead man was dressed in a gray suit, like something out of an old gangster movie, not slick, but certainly not sloppy. Opening the jacket of the suit to insert the liver thermometer, the doctor released an “oh” and retreated his hand. At first appearance, the shirt had looked white, if slightly muddy. But underneath the jacket it was stained red with dozens of holes piercing the cloth and body from a knife. “Looks like we’re not going to have a quiet week, boys,” the doctor said. 

“What was your first clue?” Hall mumbled.

***

Nathaniel Hall opened the door to his apartment six hours later. He had left the scene after two hours, having questioned the witness himself and taken a few snapshots for his own reference. After drawing up his initial reports in his office he had driven home, a slight drizzle beginning to fall. Staggering through the hallway to his bedroom, Hall threw his hat onto the dresser in the corner and sat down on the edge of the bed. He ran his fingers through his course brown hair, thinking that he should maybe get a haircut in the next couple of days. He laid down, resting his head on the headboard, his thoughts turning to the dead man they had pulled from the water.

The town of Gumption, Ohio was not large by any standards, and though it was just large enough that everybody didn’t know everybody in town, the fact that the man had no ID as of yet concerned Nathaniel. It was likely that he was a stranger, which meant one of three things. He was just passing through, he was visiting a relative, or perhaps he was on the run. They had put his face out on the news, and no calls had come in of yet, but it was still early. The other two possibilities seemed equally likely possibilities, though if he had been just passing through, why was he killed, and why so violently?

Hall closed his eyes, hoping to get just a few hours rest before going back to work on the case. As he was about to pass over into sleep, the phone on his bedside table rang. He arose with a groan, grabbing the phone with a clumsy answer of “Yes, what is it?” 

“We just got a call in,” the voice of another detective, Matt Harris came through the line. “His name is Paul Griffith. He came into town yesterday to stay with a couple of friends. I wouldn’t like friends like these, though. You better come in and hear this, Nate.” 

“I’ll be there in ten, Matt. Thanks.” He hung up the phone, rubbing his eyes for what seemed the hundredth time that morning.

Walking into the station, Hall noticed immediately the change from when he had left earlier. Before people had been walking about, waiting for results from autopsy or a phone to ring, a few checking computers for references to the man who had been murdered. Now everyone seemed to be on the phone or on the computer, frantically searching through files and old records being brought up out of the vaults. Hall made his way over to Harris, the man who had called him. 

“Hey what’s going on, we get a lead from these friends of his?” 

“Did we get a lead? Nate, our little town of Gumption, Ohio might just being going down in history in the next couple of days!” Nathaniel stared at the man in front of him, an expression of doubt and concern on his face.