Orchard Press Online Mystery Magazine
March 2002
Sophie and
the Planted Clue
a
short story
by Thomas Millstead
Copyright © 2002 Thomas Millstead. All rights reserved.
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Thomas Millstead's writing credits include three published novels: a Western, a mystery, and a children's book about life in prehistoric times, Cave of the Moving Shadows. Tom's short stories have been published in mystery magazines and fantasy/horror anthologies. His first short story sold, written while in the Army, was to Ellery Queen's Mystery Magazine, and waslater turned into a half-hour TV show. Tom has worked as a newspaper writer and editor, public relations executive and speechwriter. He is a longtime member of the Mystery Writers of America and lives in Chicago's Lincoln Park neighborhood. |
Sophie Rorick gratefully sipped a cup of steaming coffee in the squad room. It had been a chilling, blustery day and she'd ticketed more than the usual number of cars. Now, relaxed, she was enjoying being regaled by the visiting polygraph operator's non-stop anecdotes about his chosen profession.
She'd always relished the banter of cop talk. That's why, as the widow of a police detective fallen in the line of duty, she'd eagerly signed on as a Parking Enforcement Aide--"meter maids" they'd been called when she joined the force. Over time, she'd grown to love her job, not least because of a sense that she was still part of the blue coated family her late husband Steve had introduced her to.
Sophie's cell phone jingled, interrupting the garrulous lie detector technician in mid-sentence.
"It's Cletus," a gravely voice announced. "Looks like dinner's off. Been a homicide. I'm there now."
Lieutenant Cletus Moran had been her husband's best friend on the force. In the years since Steve's death, he'd exhibited a crusty if distant attentiveness. Only recently had they fallen into a casual Friday ritual of dinner together at Moran's favorite steakhouse.
"A homicide? Have you--"
"No arrest yet." Moran sighed heavily. "Look, Sophie, you do what you're paid to do and I'll do what I'm paid to do. I know you used to give Steve your input sometimes. But, please, let this one alone. Sorry about dinner."
Moran loudly sneezed.
"Bless you, Cletus."
"It's the damn incense. This apartment's thick with it. Sets off my...uh...uh...."
"Bless you again. Those awful allergies of yours. Do you have your inhaler?"
"Left it at the office."
"I'll bring it over."
"Sophie, I can't have you poking around and--"
She sprang lightly to her feet. Her round, pink-cheeked face ignited in a warm and reassuring smile.
"What's the address, Cletus?"
***
The house, a three-story Tudor, sat on the corner of a once fashionable neighborhood that was now enjoying a modest revival. A uniformed officer opened the door for her. Another greeted her in the hallway as Detective Sergeant Wendella emerged through an arched portal from what must be the parlor. Behind him, Sophie glimpsed a bulky, puffy-faced woman of perhaps sixty.
Wendella snapped shut his notebook. "The Lieutenant said you'd stop by. He's upstairs."
Sophie removed her visored uniform cap and smoothed her silver-flecked, copper-colored bangs. "Just what happened, Sam?"
"It's a rough one." Wendella had shared countless coffee break confidences with her and had no inclination to not be forthcoming now.
The young victim, Sally Cowles, lived in an apartment on the second floor, he related. Her head had been smashed in. "They took her away already. What a knockout she was, Sophie. I used to see her, serving drinks at the Five Farthings out on Highway 38. When I was off-duty, I mean"
"Of course, Sam. Does Cletus have any leads?"
"Leads? He's got the perp up there."
"He has? But--"
"Yeah. The 'but' is: Whoever did it is up there with a couple of people who didn't. And we don't know which is which."
"You're sure?"
"Has to be." He jerked his head toward the large woman still standing, arms folded, watching from the next room. "Mrs. Rhodes. She and her husband are the owners. She and a lady friend were standing in the front doorway gabbing when Sally Cowles comes in late this afternoon, holding a plant she just bought. She says hello to the ladies and goes to her room. And gets whacked minutes later. Had to be one of the people in the house. Nobody else came in the front door. Nobody left by it,
Contact the Author - Tmilstead@aol.com