Book 1-Alex Bishop and the North Side Detectives

Alex Bishop and the North Side Detectives

     Alex wasn't expecting that response; his and the other's eyes were wide, and their pens poised to take notes.  "My son had Mr. Wells for history, at North Side of course.  He's grown now," he said gesturing proudly to a picture of a handsome young man on the wall behind his desk.  The boy looked a lot like his father.  He had the same round face and bright blue eyes.,

     "Was he a nice man then, or...."  "Mean."  Lee finished for Fletch.  The officer chuckled.  "He was a quiet man.  Of course, I only knew him through parent-teachers conferences,"  Detective Burns said, scratching his chin again.  "But he smiled and laughed easily enough during those times I talked with him."

     Alex tried to picture the Mr. Wells he knew smiling, but couldn't quite managed it, so he changed tact.  "Who was Miss Weems?  I mean was she a relative, friend, what?"  "Well, she said she was his sister."  "The article didn't say that."  Dawn said with a frown, checking the newspaper article she had copied and brought along.

     The detective grinned at her.  "The reporter who wrote those two articles was fired about two weeks after the second one came out.  He didn't do well reporting the facts.  But everyone in the court room knew she was Mr. Wells sister.

     "Is she still alive?"  Fletch asked, his pen ready to write.  "As far as I know.  She lives here in town."  Alex glanced at the others and then made a note.  "So, do you think Mr. Wells did it?"  Alex asked detective Burns.  "No.  I really don't.  The man I knew from those conferences didn't seem the type to do such a thing.  I was glad when he was cleared."

     All of a sudden, Lee smacked himself in the forehead, which drew curious looks from everyone.  "I just thought of something we really need to know."  He said in explanation.  He shook his head and said, "Do you know what the murder weapon was?"  The other three gave Lee an, I can't believe we haven't already ask that look.

     "Humph."  Detective Burns said, walking over to a file cabinet and beginning to rifle through the files there.  When he found the file he wanted he sat down again.  "It was the base of a lamp."  He said, with his finger on the page.

     "The paper didn't say.  We thought maybe there was a reason why the police weren't telling."  Lee said.  "No.  It was no secret.  Just bad reporting."  He chuckled.  "Anyway, the lamp set on a small table just inside the front door."  "So the killer hit him as soon as he opened the door." Lee reasoned, his pen moving swiftly across his paper.

     "That's the way it shaped up.  Mr. Pile was found lying on the floor in the foyer by the table.  The lamp was beside him."  "Did the neighbors see anyone around Mr. Pile's house that night?"  Dawn asked.  "We talked to all the neighbors and no one saw nothing; we thought maybe because the murder happened at six, the dinner hour, and everyone was having their meal."

     "And a lamp being wielded wouldn't make a sound that anyone outside could hear."  Detective Burns said, leaning back in his chair his hands behind his head.  "Who found the body?"  Alex asked.  The detective looked at the file again.  "Mr. Pile's son Patrick, the next day."  "Did his son have any idea who would have wanted his father dead?"  Dawn asked, ready to make another note.

     "His son said his father was very well liked, and that he didn't know anyone who want to hurt him, including Mr. Wells."  "I take it that nothing was taken.  I mean it wasn't  a burglary?"  Lee said, on the edge of his seat now.  Alex grinned over at him.  He found it funny that someone that was so opposed to this project, now, seemed to be enjoying himself quite a lot.

     "You know,  it must have been six months after the murder, Mr. Pile's son Patrick was packing up his father's things, including a coin collection his dad treasured.  His son's words; and there was a 1816 penny missing."