The Cases of George Alpha #1 - Cupcakes

At the precinct

On my way back to the precinct I stopped for a schnitzel sandwich, with two additional sausages, a slice of crispy bacon, mayo and ketchup, hold the lettuce. On days like this I could use the extra fuel for my brain. I headed for my desk to do some research on the case.

As I dropped down in my chair, I noticed Rascal had already put the interview reports on my desk. I went through them over lunch, but didn't learn anything new. Booting up my computer, I pulled up the files we had on Duncan Freight, Eddie Larkon and Travis Barker. 

As expected, Duncan had a long list of misdemeanours, mostly stealing and loitering. Despite his criminal record, his list of known accomplices did not include the types whom you would suspect of shooting someone.

Eddie Larkon was as clean as a freshly washed white sheet, a third iteration servant in the employ of the Panache family. The Panaches owned one of the biggest banks in the city, Valeria Panache, Eddie's mistress, was their leading lady. Eddie had been in her service for more than 50 years.

Young Travis was actually a very old spirit, dating from before the times of record. His file started only five years earlier, when he had won the Lottery after spending who knows how long in the waiting room. Winning the Lottery meant you were reincarnated, no matter any previous history or shortcomings - like a mental disability - you might have. Travis had reintegrated into society with a clean slate and had kept it that way.

I was running out of ideas.

'Ah, detective Alpha, how's that homicide case coming along?' captain Ironfort stopped at my desk.

'Tricky, sir,' I sighed. 'It was a thief, whom they shot in the back.'

'Must have stolen something important.'

'No actually, just cupcakes.'

'Cupcakes?'

'Small cakes baked in a paper that looks like a cup.'

'Yes, I know what they are, Alpha. Why steal cupcakes?'

I shrugged, 'He was homeless, just stole something to eat.'

'And they killed him for it? That's pretty harsh. Any leads on the killer?'

'None, nobody saw the shooter. It looks like they shot him from a stationary car and then drove off, without getting spotted. It could have been an assassination, nothing to do with the theft.'

'Well, let me know when you're sure,' the captain said, then walked away.

As Rascal came back from the investigation he dropped by my desk to give me an update. By the time they had arrived under the 50th street bridge, word of Duncan's passing had gotten around and his few belongings had mysteriously vanished, distributed among the other homeless. The interviews had not yielded any usable intel either, from all accounts Duncan might have been a bastard sometimes, but not enough for anyone to want to kill him.

I was becoming more and more convinced that Duncan Freight had simply been in the wrong place at the wrong time, when the lab called.

'Alpha? Jones from the lab here, I just wanted to let you know we finished the forensics on the John Doe you brought in this morning.'

'That was quick.'

'Not much to investigate. The cause of death is being shot, at around 7am, in the back, with a 12mm gun. That's a serious bullet by the way, one the real criminals use when they want to make sure the vic doesn't get up again.'

'I see.'

'For the rest not much to add, your vic was not exactly in great physical shape and his hygiene was off the charts bad. Almost definitely homeless, but I'm thinking you had already figured that out. His clothes were clean, well, actually they were filthy as hell, but they held nothing of interest to the case, two coins, a handkerchief and a small knife.'

'So that's it?'

I could hear him smacking on the other end.

'Yeah. Mm-I mean, we've been thorough you know, we've even checked out the bag of cupcakes... mphf... in detail.'

'Jones,' I sighed, 'are you eating the evidence?'

'Like I said, we're thorough. At least now I can confirm to you they're ten normal cupcakes.'

I sat up in my chair. 'Wait what, ten?'

'Eh... yeah... ten cupcakes, five vanilla and five chocolate.'

I forgot to hang up as I grabbed my coat and ran to the car.