There's Something in the Coffee
by Sam Knapp

I was sitting in my office. It was a pretty uneventful day. I leaned back on my chair and kicked my size 12's on to my desk. As the main detective of Minneapolis Central Station I was normally off on many cases that kept me very busy. Lately though, there had been a shortage of murders. I guess you can consider that a good thing, but it was starting to get to me. I had gone three whole days without a single case.

Now I just sat with my window blinds down, waiting. I tipped down my hat and was preparing for another nap when the nasally voice of the offices secretary came on the intercom. "Mr. Esnoh you have a client waiting outside your office. Should I send him in?"

"Sure," I replied.

Finally, I thought to myself as the door to my office slowly opened. Standing there was a man who looked very disturbed. He was tall, probably over six feet, and was heavy set. I estimated his age to be about 25. His square head looked around my room, almost examining it. His beady eyes suddenly turned to me.

"Detective Esnoh", the man said, "I'm here to report a murder".

Well what else would you be here for? I thought to myself.

"My name is Robert Falen," the man said. My Aunt has been murdered".

"Give me the facts, and Ill see what I can do for you," I replied.

"Well, I was on a visit to my aunt's apartment. She had invited me to spend the night last night. In the morning when I woke up I told her I had made coffee for her and that I had poured her a cup. Then I told her I was going to go visit my grandma, and that I'd be back in the afternoon." Falen said, in a nervous way.

This man must not come to police stations often, I thought.

"When I came back at about one in the afternoon she was dead. She was dead! She was de-head," Falen said, getting hysterical.

I tried to comfort the man the best I could. He was obviously devastated by this whole thing.

"How was she killed?" I asked after he had calmed down a bit.

"W-well," Falen said, still a bit uneasy, "I got to the house and looked around wondering where she was, and I walked into the bedroom. She was l-laying there on the f-floor with a knife in her b-b-back."

"Hmmm, interesting. Would there have been any motive for anyone to kill her?" I asked.

"Well, her and my uncle just got a divorce. Maybe there were still some bad vibes."

" Well Mr. Falen, I'll see what I can do."

"Thank you detective." With that the man got up and left the room.

"Debra," I said into the intercom, "get me the address from the police report. I'm going down to the scene to check things out. If I get any messages tell the people I'm busy."

"Yes Mr. Esnoh," Debra said through the intercom.

Dang, I thought, as I was walking out of my office, now I'm going to miss my soaps. Over the previous couple of days I had had some extra time. So, whats better than catching up on the soap operas? Not that they're any good, I thought.

I got in my car. The interior smelled like peaches. I didn't really know why this was, but the interior of my Ford Bronco had always smelled of peaches. The previous owners must have done something weird to it.

The streets of Minneapolis were normally crowded, but today they weren't that bad. At least its not rush hour, I thought. Normally in rush hour traffic it would take about 15 minutes to drive one mile.
I stopped at a stoplight and watched as the intersecting cars passed. I looked down at the piece of paper in my hand.

128 7TH STREET
ARPARTMENT # 27

The stoplight turned green and I continued on my way. I looked around outside. It was a cloudy day and rather chilly. April weather is always like this.

I arrived at the apartment complex. I got out of my truck and made my way across the street. I climbed the steps up to the door. This is a good neighborhood, weird that there would be a murder here.

I pushed open the large squeaky door. Inside, the apartment smelled of a combination of sweat and cooking. The name on the postal box told me I'd be heading upstairs. As I walked up the creaky stairs I noticed that the floorboards bent. Almost as if the countless footsteps on the stairs had left foot prints in the wood. I got to the top of the stairs and paused to observe. The dim hallway went on for about 30 or so yards and then turned to the right. The green shaded wallpaper was peeling in most places.

I walked down the hall. I noticed that the numbers on the doors were ascending. 25, 26, 27, I was there.

I knocked on the door and waited. I don't have time for this, I thought. I knocked a second time, this time a little harder. This time a young policeman opened the door. He had spiked brown hair, and had on the normal uniform.

"Detective Esnoh, I'm glad you're here," the policeman said. "Here, I'll show you were the body is."

That would be nice, I thought. He led me through a doorway that led to a bedroom. As I entered I saw the body of the victim lying face down on the floor. It was a woman who was about 50 years old. She had dark blond hair that had streaks of Gray in it. She was wearing a white and pink nightgown. There was also one thing about her that I couldn't miss. She had a knife in her back.

I bent down to examine the wound. I noticed something very odd. This wound didn't bleed at all! I beckoned for the young policeman.

"Look," I said, "this wound didn't bleed. The only reason that I can think of for that to happen is that she got stabbed after she was dead."

"You mean the knife is a decoy?" he asked.

"Exactly," I said.

Now this is a twist, I thought. As I examined the rest of the body, I noticed one tiny detail that might be crucial. Around her lips I found an area of white powder.

I got my cell phone out of my pocket, and called up the station.

"Alright," I said, "I want the ex-husband of the victim brought in to custody for interrogation. I want a forensic team to come down and dust the place for fingerprints. I want the victim taken in for an autopsy. Also I want all of the victims medical and dental records. The works. Ok?"

"Right away Detective Esnoh", the desk clerk on the phone said.

I hung up. Maybe this case wasn't going to be that bad. If this works out right well have a killer in no time.

Over the next day I waited in my office for the results from everything to come in. At about noon a file of papers was plopped onto my desk. I started shifting through the file.

First the report on the interrogation on the ex-husband. It said he was living in the city of Duluth and was currently, "piecing his life back together," as he put it. He said he had been in Duluth the night before and the morning of the murder. Apparently, according to the report, he even had alibi to prove his innocence. I guess he's out of the picture.

Next was the autopsy report. As I suspected the knife had not killed her. The report said she had died from a severe allergic reaction. It also said when they examined the white stuff on her lips it was salt. The report said that when the contents of her stomach were examined the only thing she had had for breakfast that morning was coffee. When the coffee was analyzed it was found to have extremely high sodium content. That explains the salt on the lips, I thought.

Next I looked at the medical and dental reports. Everything seemed to be normal on both documents, but I noticed one very important thing. The victim had a very deadly allergy to salt. That explains it.

Finally I looked at the report for the fingerprints. It said that all of the fingerprints belonged to the victim, except ones that were found on the knife and the victims coffee cup. Those to sets of fingerprints belonged to one person.

Now I was sure who committed the murder. It appeared to me that I had been lied to.

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