The Wrong Suspect

I got a call from my friend, Mark Daffy. I answered the phone and held it up to my ear. I greeted him cheerfully, but his response wasn't as pleasant.

"Andy," He said, his breathing shaky and ragged. "I need you to come to the house."

"What's wrong?" I asked, worried. "Is everything okay?"

"Andy," He spoke again. His voice started to break. "I need you to come to the house. Please..."

"Okay," I agreed. "I'll be there in twenty."

Exactly twenty minutes later, I arrived at my friend's house. The door was cracked open. Strange. Who had left the door unlocked? I shook my question away and cautiously entered the house. "Mark?" I called. No answer. I continued to yell his name, but there was no answer every time.

I walked around the house. Lamps and antiques were collecting dust, cobwebs were forming in the corners of the roof, and there was a pale smell that gave off the effect of a nursing home.

I continued to explore the house. The living room was uninhabited. There was nothing in it other than a pair of rocking chairs and a small couch. It was empty. The kitchen was a few feet away. There was nothing but a small pot of water on a non-working stove.

There was a small bedroom in the back of the house. I stepped inside. There he was. Mark Daffy was cradling his wife while his son, Alex was cradling Mark.

Alex looked up at me. "Hello, Mr. Andy," He said. "I heard my father called you."

I confirmed his statement. Alex nodded and tapped his father's shoulder. "Dad," He said quietly. "The friend you called, Mr. Andy, he's arrived." Mark nodded and walked over to me, wiping his eyes. I hadn't noticed he was crying.

"Thank you for coming," He said. We shook hands.

"Are you alright?" I asked.

He nodded. "Yes. I called you here because you're the only one that can bring my family justice."

"What are you talking about?"

"Andy you're the greatest detective to ever live. You're the only one that can solve this case."

"What happened?" I asked.

My friend stayed silent for a few minutes. I saw tears begin to gloss his eyes. Mark breathed in deeply, trying to hold back his tears. "Some--" His voice broke. I embraced him. He breathed in deeply once more and continued. "Someone killed Kat..." He said it under his breath. I almost couldn't hear him. "Someone killed Kat, Andy." He showed me his hands. Blood was smeared all over them. I noticed blood was staining his wife's pink evening gown.

"Do you know who did this?" I questioned.

"No!" Mark yelled back angrily. I head Alex whimper. "I saw them jump out of a broken window, but I didn't see their face! "She was just lying there when Alex and I got back from the store! Blood was smeared all over the floor and her dress was stained!"

Alex walked over to my friend. "Father, please!" He cried. "You've never acted this way before! Please calm down!" Mark glared at his son. Instantly, he took his hand and slapped his son's face. Alex's cheek was now red. I saw tears begin to gloss his eyes. Alex ran out of the bedroom and headed for the backyard, sniffling and wiping his eyes along the way. Mark pleaded for his son to return, but Alex didn't listen. He quickly opened the backdoor and ran out.

Mark went to go chase after his son. "I don't know much," He said quickly. "But I know they left a knife." My friend pulled a knife out of the back pocket of his jeans. "He used this."

He handed me the murder weapon. I inspected it carefully. "How can you tell the killer was male?" I asked.

"Women are slender. It was definitely a male. Please trust me, Andy. You're the only one that can solve this case." Mark ran out of the bedroom and chased his son outside. I stood there for a few seconds, stunned. There were thousands of thoughts swarming around in my head. I quickly shook those thoughts away and dashed out of the house. I drove back to my office and started to solve the case.

After two weeks of sleepless nights and continuous fingerprint and glass testing, I finally got the suspect. I went to the police station and asked if they could search his address. His name was Jack Stone. Mr. Stone's fingerprints were all over the knife Mark had shown me. And to my surprise, Stone's house was right next to Mark's. It was the classic neighbor hatred.

I knocked on Jack Stone's door hard. He answered the door, dressed in a plaid shirt and light jeans. He smiled when he saw me. "Hello, Andy! My neighbor Mark has told me a lot about you!"

"I'm sorry, Mr. Stone, but I don't have time for games. Is it okay if I come in?"

He tilted his head. He almost looked confused. He shook his head and smiled at me again. "Of course!" He said pushing me inside. "Come in! Would you like some tea?"

"No, thank you," I said. "I need to ask you a few questions."

He sat down on one of his couches. "Of course,"

"As a certified detective," I said. "I am permitted to ask you these questions."

Jack nodded. "Yes, I know. I've heard of your profession from Mark."

"Where were you on the day of January twenty-fifth?" I asked.

"I went to the grocery store," Mr. Stone said. "When I came back, it started to rain. I rushed inside. I was soaking wet, so I decided to take a shower. I hadn't know to bring an umbrella."

"You didn't watch the news that morning?"

"I watched the news, but the meteorologist said that there would be clear skies that entire day.

"Of course the meteorologist can't predict the weather, but I still didn't think to bring an umbrella with me. I hadn't left the house for the rest of the day. It was pouring down the rest of that afternoon."

I stood up at that statement. "Excuse me, Mr. Stone, but you are under arrest for murder."

"Sorry?"

"The rain stopped at around three-o'clock that afternoon. You said it had been raining all day."

"It had been raining all day!" Jack protested.

"On January twenty-fifth?"

"January twenty-fifth? I thought you had said January twenty-fourth!"

"I'm sorry, but you're going to have to come with me." I handcuffed the man and forced him into my car. I took him to the police station. The police men locked him in a jail cell.

Three days later, something happened that I couldn't believe. I quickly got dressed for the day, chugged down my morning cup of coffee and drove to the police station. I ran to Mr. Stone's cell. A few policemen guarding the cell stopped me. "Please let me see him!" I cried. "He didn't kill Mark's wife!"

Jack must've heard me because he stood up from the small cell bench. "I told you I didn't do it!"

That only meant one thing: I've had the wrong suspect the entire time.