Riverside's Perfect Murder

Picnic in the Cemetary

Frank was parked across from two-two-seven Hudson Street watching. Mr. Oliver hadn't come out yet, but every so often, Frank could see the curtains move as someone walked by his windows. The street had little traffic this time of day, and Frank noticed the leaves were turning on the few trees near his building.

Frank was taking a sip from his coffee cup when there was a knock on his window. Damn. It was him. He put down his window and looked up into Mr. Oliver's face. Frank kept having to squint because the sun was shining behind Mr. Oliver. Every time Frank moved his head to have his eyes shadowed from the sun, Mr. Oliver would adjust, so the sun blinded Frank again.

Finally, Mr. Oliver said, "Hello, Frank. We have not met yet, but I wondered if you would give me a lift to the Wendy's. It is not far, and I thought as long as you were waiting here, you might do me this favor."

"Hi. What? Yeah, OK, I guess," Frank stammered. Damn it. How did he get here without me seeing him?

Mr. Oliver already had the door open and was climbing into the back seat. "This is very convenient. It is like having my very own chauffeur. Wendy's is not far. Would you like something, Frank? Driving me like this is ever so kind of you."

"What? Oh. No, thanks." Frank was still trying to collect his wits.

Frank was pulling the car away from the curb when he heard, "How long have you been working for detective Rita?"

Frank didn't know if he should answer. He tried to look in the rearview mirror to see Mr. Oliver's face, but he had moved just out of his viewing.

"Only a little while."

"Oh, that's nice. Fresh out of the academy?"

"Yes."

"Do you like working for Miss. Rita?"

Frank tried again to see him but couldn't without turning around. He gave a little shrug and answered, "Yes. Although I don't think she likes me much."

"Why do you say that?"

"Rita is always yelling at me. Sometimes I think I please her but not often." Frank sounded sad. "What am I doing? I shouldn't be telling you all this."

"I am sorry you feel that way. I happen to know that she thinks a great deal of you. She feels you are a competent detective. Miss. Rita only wants to protect herself from further pain. You do know her last partner died on the job?" Mr. Oliver sounded very sincere.

"Really. Rita said that? She thinks I am a good detective?"

"Yes. Of course."

"Wow. That's great. Thank you."

"You are welcome. Here is my Wendy's. Can I get anything for you?" Mr. Oliver asked.

"Well, maybe a small fry."

"Jolly good. Something to drink with those fries?"

"Yeah, a diet cola would be great, thank you."

"No problem, Frank." Mr. Oliver said as he was leaving the car.

Frank watched as Mr. Oliver entered Wendy's, but what Frank failed to see was Mr. Oliver walk straight through the restaurant and out the other side. Frank finished his coffee and looked at his phone for the time. Fifteen minutes had passed. He got out and looked around before going in and finding out Mr. Oliver wasn't there. Frank asked the counter girl named "Emma" if she had seen a tall good looking man come in. She hadn't, and neither had anyone else. He checked the men's room before taking out his phone and dialing. "This is going to hurt," he said out loud to himself right before Rita answered.