Things happened no one figured on. Such as David Davis killing his ex-partner. The “Double D” as folks called him, was an impressive figure of a man. At over 6 feet tall, and as mean as they come. He had no qualms about bouncing you out the door of his nightclub if you were stupid enough to be an idiot on the floor. If you were lucky, he only threw your drunk ass out. letting you find your way home on your own. Some nights if he was feeling particularly mean, he’d beat you up a bit in front of the crowd, sort of give them a show. I think the main reason he did it was to remind folks who the boss was, and not to mess with him. He was known to have gotten his hands dirty on more than one occasion. Stuff everyone knew happened, but no one ever talked about, at least not in public, and definitely not to the cops.
This is where I came in. His ex-partner, Longfellow, was found dead in his office. over on the east side of town. The night housekeeper found the body as she was getting ready to clean up in his office. She said the lights were on, she figured he was working late again. She went to the office, and there sat Longfellow, in his chair behind the desk. Stone cold dead. She called me. Well, actually she called the cops, and I came.
Looking at the dump of an office. I found no indication of foul play. Other than the stiff sitting in the chair, with a bullet hole in his head. It wasn’t all nice and clean and neat like they show on tv. It was a god awful mess. The bullet was probably a personal defense load. It expanded in his brains. The force took the backside of his head off. Brains and blood and bone were plastered all over the wall behind the desk. The stench, was enough to make you gag. which is what I did, and still did, even after I’d been in there for several minutes. The crime scene crew came in and took over. How they were able to process the room I don't know. I had to get the heck out of there before I threw up.
Back at my office at the station. I went over the reports of the officers first on the scene, and the coroner's report finally came in late the next day. I was right. It’d been a large caliber self-defense round, probably a critical defense round. From the looks of what they got out of the wall behind him, Probably either a .45ACP or .357 mag. They didn’t find an empty shell in the room. So either he took the case with him or it was a revolver. In which case the casing never left the gun.
It was no secret there was no love loss, between Davis and Longfellow. They had fought on a number occasions. Davis claimed Longfellow had cheated him out of a lot of profits several years ago when they first opened the nightclub. They had since dissolved the partnership. Davis bought Longfellow out.
It is well known that Davis like guns and usually had at least one on him at all times. I know he liked the-the old Smith & Wesson revolvers. That was my bet on what he used on Longfellow. Probably that .357 magnum he carried most of the time. Knowing it and proving it are two different things. I knew that, along with every cop in the world.
I headed over to Davis’s nightclub, late in the afternoon. Pulling up at the front door. I could see the bouncers waiting to keep people in line later when they opened for business. Approaching them, I flashed my badge. I knew one of them. A low-level thug for any number of bosses in the city. He knew I’d toss his ass in jail just for laughs. So he opened the door, and let me in.
The main floor was dark, except for light over the bar, and a few wall sconces near the doors. David Davis was big even sitting down at one of the big round tables in the front of the bar. The lights from the bar behind him made him look even bigger than I knew he was. I walked up to the table. Pulled up a chair, and sat down across from him. We didn’t say anything for a few seconds.
I let my brazenness irritate him for a minute.
“David, You know Longfellow is dead? They found him shot to death last night.”
“Yeah so, I haven’t been to his office in months. Not since we split the business.”
“It was a mess, a nasty smelly bloody mess. A mess only a big gun can make at close range. A gun like, say, That cannon you have there, “ I indicated the large K frame revolver Davis had in his shoulder holster.
“OH, you mean this?” He slowly and carefully slides the large revolver from his resting place. Laying it on the table in front of me. I took out my handkerchief and used it to pick up the gun. Carefully sliding the cylinder catch opening the cylinder. All six of the cartridges in the cylinder were new. The gun looks to be freshly clean. I saw no powder residue anywhere on the inside of the frame, around the barrel gap, or the neck.
“Let Me guess you just cleaned the gun?” I said. I eyed the cylinder and closed it. And handed it back to him.
“It is a nice gun. How many more of them do you have? I can get a search warrant to take all your guns. And eventually, we’ll find the one you used to kill Longfellow with. Of you can tell me exactly what happened.”
I sat back in my chair, and let him think. I knew he did it, and he knew I knew it. But getting him to talk was the key.
I also left out that they found his prints in the office. And not just on the door and the like. But on Longfellow's computer keyboard, and safe. From talking to the secretary, he had only just gotten the computer several days ago. As the old one had finally died. There was no other way that Davis’s prints could get on the new keyboards unless he’d been the last one to use it. There had been attempted to wipe the keyboard clean of prints, but it had failed. The ballistics had said it was a .357 Mag they dug out of the wall behind his head. And there was just enough to match to a gun. I had him dead to right, but I wanted him to say it. I didn’t tell him all this. Not yet.
I sat waiting.
“Tell me what happened. You argued, and he said or did something and you shot him.” I prompted. I deliberately didn’t say anything about the keyboard.
In the dim light from the bar, I could barely make out his face. Just enough to tell me he was worried. I never said where we found him, or what exactly he’d been shot with, just that it was big, which could be any of several calibers. I waited. A waitress brought him a drink. I asked for a scotch. A minute later it appeared. I played with the glass. Barely took a sip. It was good. But that was to be expected. Davis’s place always served the good stuff. No cheap booze here. I noticed he didn’t touch his drink.
“I didn’t kill him,” he said flatly.
“Oh, Explain.” I didn’t believe him. But stranger things have happened before.
“Yes, I didn't like him. Yes, we’d had a falling out. But I didn’t kill him.
I told you I haven’t been near him in months. He stays on his side of town, and I stay on my side. It's better that way.” I knew all that.
“I have enough evidence to to arrest you for the murder of Longfellow.”
“In fact, I am now arresting you for his murder,” I said getting up. As I expected, He got up quickly. Suddenly my gun appeared in my hand. I fired twice. Both shots hit him center mass. At that range, I couldn’t miss. David Davis dropped dead, in the middle of his own nightclub.
It was now going to be easy to pin Longfellow's murder on him. I had just enough circumstantial evidence to convict him. And now he was dead, the case was closed.
I did it. For a minute there, I wasn’t sure he was going to do what I wanted. But he did. In the dark nightclub. It looked like he was going for his gun. So I acted in defense. And shot a murder suspect.
I got away with two murders. I killed Longfellow, left just enough clues and evidence to point to Davis, but nothing too obvious. Then in trying to arrest the suspect, I had to kill him too. Case Closed.
And I retired a year later. The 10 million dollars I got from Longfellow's safe should give me a very nice retirement. The bonus is that I also married Davis’s widow, and we moved somewhere warm and sunny, and no extradition treaty.