Death of the Poor Man

After arriving home, I quickly took off my shoes and threw them into the fireplace. I then threw my gloves into the fire.

"Wait...why am I doing this? I'm not the one who killed that guy." I pondered. "But then the gangsters can find my shoes and gloves and see that I was at the scene....yeah."

Rather be safe than sorry.

After throwing the evidence into the fire, I walked into the kitchen. I washed my hands throughly and dried them. I then took of my clothes and threw them into the wash.

After my shoes and gloves became ashes, I swept them onto a dust pan. The best way to get rid of this evidence is to probably throw it into the ground outside.

I then dug up a hole near by a tree and put a quarter of the ashes in it. I then patched up the hole with the dirt. I did that with the rest of the ashes in scattered areas.

"I think that should do it." I then looked at my wrist watch and saw the time. "Five thirty in the morning, huh? Maybe I should shower also. I feel dirty."

After showering and getting ready, it was finally time to meet up with Mr. Bianchi and Lekkey.

I arrived and the office and greeted them. "Good morning, Mr. Bianchi and Lekkey."

"Good timing, Ms. Berger. There's something important happening today, and you'll be able to have a part in it." Mr. Bianchi jumped up from his seat and took his coat off of the coat hanger.

"And what's that?" I asked.

"Apparently someone was murdered last night." Lekkey came out of his room with a pile of papers in hand.

Could it be that hostage last night?

"We are heading to the myrder scene right now. Let's go." Mr. Bianchi walked out the front door.

Great. This is all I needed, to go back to the murder scene.

"Will you be alright, miss? There will be a dead body there." Lekkey gave me a concerned expression.

"I think I'll be fine. I don't have a problem with seeing blood. I do watch a great amount of detective shows."

"I see then. Shall we go?" Lekkey offered his arm.

"Yes." I smiled and grabbed hold of his arm.

We arrived at the scene of the crime, and there was already a number of police men hovering around.

"Hello, dear men. Detective Bianchi is hear to check out this scene." Mr. Bianchi waltzed in.

"We are glad you're here, sir. There seems to be a murder with no murder weapon at the crime. All that we could find so far were two bullets in his chest. However, it will take a while for ust to figure out which type of gun it's from." The policeman explained.

"I understand. I'll have to check this scene throughly. Lekkey come here."

"Yes sir." Lekkey put on a pair of gloves and ran to Bianchi's side.

Of course, as an outsider, I'm stuck here with the other policemen guarding the area from pedestrians. "Would you care for a drink, ma'am?"

"I'm alright. Thank you." I answered. "Am I able to look at the crime scene closer?"

"Sorry, ma'am. No can do. Strictly against police orders to let citizens see a scene of murder." The policeman explained further.

"I understand."

Great. Now I can't say anything about the crime scene without being suspected or targeted by the gangsters. Probably for the better to stay silent. However, that tattoo on his wrist looks like it could be connected to my brother's case, somehow.

"Well, It looks like it may be an average murder after all." Mr. Bianchi sighed as he came out of the alley.

An average murder? What? Didn't he see the tattoo on the poor man's wrist?

"I was actually expecting something exciting to out of this case. Something like it being connected to your brother's case, Ms. Berger." Mr. Bianchi looked disappointed.

This couldn't have been right. I strictly remembered the top part of a "c" on his wrist. Could I have seen it wrong? It wasn't too dark last night. The moon was pretty bright.

Maybe the gangsters came back and took of the tattoo. No. That wouldn't be right. It would be too risky to do that, and you would have a higher chance of being caught by the police.

"There wasn't anything on his wrist like my brother had?" I tried to make my question seem as if I hadn't seen the body before.

"That was the first place I looked." Mr. Bianchi took out his phone and showed me a picture of the man's wrist. Sure enough, there was no tattoo.

His wrist was as clear as day. How is that even possible? Did someone actually remove it? I could only think of one you could remove a tattoo without a tattoo specialist: Burning it off. Could there be other ways?

"So, he's not connected to my brother's case." I stared at the photo was a sad expression. Maybe I I didn't see it correctly last night.

"Never fear, Ms. Berger. True he may not seem to be connected to your brother's case, but there's always a possibility." Mr. Bianchi encouraged me.

That is true. "Thanks, Mr. Bianchi."