Deadly Riddles (Mike Anderson Book 1) Read online

  Briggs. That name sounded familiar but I couldn't place it. I remember one of the bosses in Golden Sun 2 was named Briggs. Maybe that's where I remember him from. I saw the guys face for a split second. I was getting nothing, but the guy might've been 10-20 years younger and could've looked a lot different. Maybe he was an old high school teacher or worked at a store a frequented. Or maybe this was all just one big coincidence.

  "A gun was found near the body, registered to Mr. Anderson." the chief continued, "It was three rounds shy of a full clip. We found three shell casings by the body, three bullet wounds, and three bullet holes in the wall on the other side of the room. The recovered bullets were the same caliber as the gun. The lab still needs to confirm that it's the murder weapon, but I have a hunch it will come back a match."

  I had a gun that I bought for protection years ago. It was a just in case thing. I've never shot the thing. I always say you can never be too careful, but apparently you can.

  "Any prints? Any gunshot residue on my client?" The lawyer finally chimed in.

  "The gun was wiped clean, and he could've worn gloves or washed his hands after." Taylor responded.

  "Your evidence proves that someone found and fired my client's gun. Anyone could've murdered Randall Briggs."

  "The body was found in your client's hotel room, while your client was there."

  "It's his hotel room! It could be just coincidence that he walked into his room to find the body right as the killer escaped. Your theory is that my client shoots some stranger in his hotel room. There's no motive, there is no evidence that puts the gun in my client's hand. No jury is going to buy that story."

  "Who says he didn't know the guy?" The chief asked. I was starting to get uncomfortable in the position I was in. My head was on edge of the table with my eyes glued to the floor. I was afraid to move as I didn't want to draw attention to myself in the room. The lawyer and cop were going at it right now and I was fine being invisible to the world once again.

  "There was no evidence they knew each other. No witnesses saw them together entering the hotel. No phone records connecting the two. They lead completely different lives. Mike is from Chicago in town for a presentation at the University and Briggs is a manager at a fast food restaurant." Said the lawyer, but I had a feeling he was wrong. It was something I remembered when I first walked into that hotel room. His eyes. I couldn't quite place where I remembered them from. I knew the Chief was about to drop a bomb on us.

  "You might want to take a look at this article then." I heard the shuffling of paper, probably a folder with the newspaper article inside, "He has lived in Chicago for the past 15 years, but grew up right in this very city. Our detectives had a hunch and did a search of old newspaper articles and we found this."

  And all the sudden everything clicked, memories forgotten came back in an instant like a fog had been lifted. It had been almost 25 years ago when I was little. I was walking home from school like I did every day. It was just a normal street, a two lane road with a sidewalk on both sides. No median. It was a cool spring day, the sun mostly covered by clouds, but not threatening to rain. I walked with my head down, trying not to step on the cracks in the sidewalk. It was something I did to keep myself entertained on the walk home.

  In the distance I could hear tires screeching, a horn honking. It took me a second to react to the noise, to look up, but by then it was too late. I was face to face with an oncoming car. It was just an old four door sedan with a giant grill. He didn't see the guy in front of him stop and had swerved to avoid it, but was now headed straight at me. By the time I could think to do anything it was already too late. The last thing I saw was the driver's eyes in that split second. He had this panicked look on his face. He knew that in the next moment, both of our lives would never be the same.

  The car hit me in straight on, right above my knees. The momentum of the sedan forced me onto its hood, cutting my legs up on the grill. I kept moving forward until I hit the windshield with enough force to shatter it. I closed my eyes when I heard the glass break; they were useless to me now.

  By this time the car had screeched to a stop in the grass on the other side of the sidewalk and I was thrown off the windshield, or what was left of it, and I landed in the grass a few feet away awkwardly on my side. This all happened very fast, probably in within a second or two, but to me it seemed to take forever.

  There I was, lying face down on the grass with my eyes closed. That's when the pain set in. My legs were cut up, but my left leg had a deep gash about a foot long that went almost past my knees. I was hurting everywhere. My legs hurt. My back hurt. My head throbbed from the collision with the windshield. I wouldn't wish that much pain on anyone, ever. Fortunately for me I wasn't conscious for long.

  I woke up in a hospital covered in bandages a few hours later. Both of my legs were broken, the left leg had to be stitched up. I had broken two ribs. The rest of my body was sore. Whatever drugs I had been given had numbed the pain, but I was still hurting everywhere. I was out of the hospital a week or so later on a wheelchair. Eventually that turned into crutches and then finally I could walk on my own about a month later. The doctor said that due to the muscle damage I probably shouldn't go for sports or do anything too physically taxing on my leg. I had a permanent excuse out of gym class.

  "Nine year old hit by reckless driver." The lawyer read the headline, confirming my suspicions. Randall Briggs was the guy that hit me with his car over 25 years ago. My arm started to get damp. Reliving that story usually brings me to the brink of crying. But I had to hide it, especially from the cop. Any reaction and he would be on me fast.

  That was the last nail in the coffin. The killer made sure to get someone that I would have a motive against. I couldn't breathe. They thought I was a murderer? They think I would kill this guy?

  Wouldn't you?

  A voice in the back of my mind asked; the voice that always doubts and questions my motives. Always there when I mess up in life to rub it in my face, like when I get accused of murder. Of course I wouldn't, I couldn't. I'm not a fighter. I don't take revenge on anyone.

  But everyone has a breaking point. This guy ruined your life.

  He didn't ruin my life. My life is perfectly fine right now. I love my job. I have a nice place in Chicago that I enjoy. This self-debate was interrupted by the police chief.

  "Here's my theory, tell me if you think a jury would buy it." The chief said, now speaking to me, "You had Briggs meet you in your hotel room. You probably had good intentions. Maybe you just wanted closure. The two of you hang out in your room and talk about the past. Then something happened. We'll never know what exactly it was, but things got heated. All that anger built up over twenty-five years came unleashed, and the result was three gunshot wounds to the chest, killing Briggs instantly."

  He just described a scene that never happened. I would never have done that. I wouldn't have invited him up for drinks. I would've avoided him like the plague. Anyone that knows me would know how I am. Of course, no one knows me.

  I should've told him that I would never do this. It's just not in me. I should've told him about the phone call I received from the killer. But instead I said nothing. They wouldn't believe me. They had evidence they needed. They wouldn't believe that someone called me, taunting me over the phone.

  There couldn't have been enough time for all of these events to happen as I had just gotten back from the college. It was impossible for me to kill someone in a few moments right? But who could vouch for me that I got back when I did? The guy at the lobby probably wouldn't be able to accurately say when he saw me enter the building, if he even remembered me entering the building. The chief would just claim I had rushed back to the hotel ten minutes before the murder.

  They gave me the option to plea out: life with the possibility of parole. Maybe they felt sorry for me. Or maybe they didn't want to have to waste money on the trial. I didn't answer, so they gave me 48 hours to make a decision. Then they led me out of t
he room and into a holding cell. The tears I had stifled during the interrogation finally burst loose and rand down my face.

  My life was over. I would spend the rest of my life in jail, and there was nothing I could do to stop it. How could I prove I was being framed? I didn't even know who would this guy was. Was it someone from my past? Someone who thought I had wronged them? It had to be. But I couldn't think of anyone that would be. I hit my hand a few times against the bench I was sitting on. I was powerless to do anything, and the cops wouldn't help me if they think I'm the killer.

  Am I hearing this right? The guy who has been on his own all of his life now wishes there was someone with him to help?

  But what else can I do? I don't have a clue who this person is.

  Maybe if you had gone to that party none of this would've happened. But instead you chose to go back to your hotel room alone. You're afraid of being around people and now it's going to be your downfall. No one knows you, no one has any reason to trust you or help you.

  You're wrong. What about all the things I avoid by choosing to be on my own? I see it happen all around me. People spend years together and build trust, and it all gets torn down in an hour of fighting. When a married woman is killed, don't they always look at the husband first? Happiness doesn't last. People get hurt, people get betrayed. Why would I want to deal with that? I have been a loner for a long time now and I don't see a reason why I should quit now.

  I spent nearly an hour thinking about my predicament before the guard unlocked the cell I was in and told me to get out. I thought I was hearing things. I made sure he was saying what I thought he was, then I got up and followed him to the front booth and they gave me my stuff back. Basically it was just my wallet, key chain, and my suitcase. They said they were keeping my laptop as it was evidence.

  "I don't understand, I-I-I'm being let go?" I asked, saying my first words since the cops showed up at the hotel.

  "You are being released on your own recognizance." He said. I still didn't understand, they were letting me go?

  "I-I-I don't understand." I said with a stutter.

  "Officer Monroe will answer any questions you might have." He replied. Monroe? I knew a Monroe, but it couldn't be...

  "Michael?" A woman in her mid 30s walked to the booth. She had medium length brown hair, brown eyes and a nice smile.

  "Jessie?"

  Well, what do you know; another blast from the past.

  More to come…

  Chapter Three

  Jessica was someone I knew from a long time ago. When I was 7 years old we moved into a new house in a new neighborhood during the summer. It was a small little subdivision with a park at the end of one of the streets that was open to the public. My parents decided I should play outside more, so they would drop me off at the park down the street and let me play around for an hour or two. I know, it sounds like horrible parenting, but these were different times.

  Every afternoon I got dropped off at the park, and there would be a group of kids playing kickball that were all around my age. I don't know what gene it is that kids have that allows them to just walk up to people they don't know with the confidence that they had known each other for years, but I didn't have it. I would just sit and watch these kids play kickball while going back and forth on the swings. This went on for about a few weeks. And then one day one of the kids approaches me.

  "We need someone to make the teams even. Wanna play?" I turn towards the voice and find that it's none other than Jessica asking me to play kickball.

  So I joined their game. I had never played the game before, but the rules are pretty easy to pick up on. I was of about average skill it turned out; nothing stellar, but not noticeably bad. And I had a ton of fun playing with the neighborhood kids until finally my parents called me back for dinner.

  The next day I was back on the swing. I happened to make it there before Jessica did. When she made it to the park, she saw me and invited me to the game. I began to notice that she would show up about the same time every day. So I started making sure I would get to the park first. This went on for the rest of the summer. We had this weird ritual where she would ask me to join their game because I was too afraid to approach these kids myself.

  Then school started and we stopped playing in the park everyday. I was in 3rd grade that year. It turned out she was in my class. Apparently we were the same age, only a two month difference. I was the older one. She sat next to me and we started talking. It was weird, because that was probably the most we had talked since we had first met at the park over a month ago. I guess there isn't much room to talk when you are playing kickball in the park. I had made a friend that day, the first day of 3rd grade. Jessica was probably the only person in the world I would ever come to call a friend in my life.

  We were pretty close. Her mother had died from cancer when she was a baby, but her father was like my 2nd dad. He would take us to see the Astros play every now and then. Or we would go to Astroworld for the day and ride the roller coasters. My favorite was the times we would play board games. I was really good at games like Risk or Axis and Allies. Of course, considering what I am doing now that probably isn't that surprising.

  Of course, we grew up. High school came around, she had her own friends. We still hung out every now and then. We would be in one or two classes every year together and sometimes do homework or study. And then we both graduated and I went out of state for college.

  Not really much of a story. Maybe you were expecting us to stay together and live happily ever after, or maybe you expected a falling out. We both went our separate ways when we grew up and had no hard feelings. And now here I was, looking at the same girl I knew from when I was a little kid but now we were both in our mid 30s.

  We stopped at a Denny's to catch up. Or rather I should say, she stopped at a Denny's and I went along with it. If it were up to me, I'd have found another hotel for the night and I would be on my laptop playing some kind of game. But Jessica broke me out of jail so I guess I owe her a meal and some awkward small talk right?

  I'm not even completely sure how she did it. Maybe her position at the police station lets her release people, even murder suspects. Or perhaps she pulled some strings. Let people know she knew who I was. I was a little curious as to the details of my release, but not curious enough to start asking questions that would only result in more nervous conversation.

  "So, are you guys ready to order?" The waitress asked.

  "I'll have an All-American slam with hash browns." Jessica said, handing the waitress her menu.

  "And you, sir?" She asked me. I wasn't ready. It had been such a long time since I had been inside a restaurant that I had almost forgotten how things went.

  "Um. I-I...would l-like some eggs. M-maybe some b-bacon too." I muttered.

  "How would you like your eggs?"

  I didn't know what she meant. There was more than one way to have your eggs? I couldn't think of how to answer the question, but Jessica stepped in and saved me.

  "Just make that 2 All-American slams." she said politely. Then she turned back towards me, "So, what brings you here?"

  "I, uh, gave a presentation at the college." I replied.

  "Oh really?" She said with a chuckle. I bet she was imagining the guy who just struggled to order food at a restaurant give a 30 minute speech in front of a large group of people.

  "So, I hear you do some kind of game programming these days. Anything I've heard of?" She continued.

  "Well, uh... have you heard of Army Heros? Strategy game I was involved in."

  "That's nice."

  We continued small talk. She told me her story about how she became a cop, and then got promoted to detective. It wasn't any more interesting than my story about how I became a game designer. Although, somehow her story took more time to tell.

  And the conversation dragged on. I was always horrible just making conversation like this. There was just no logic to it. Both of you talk back and forth about... whatev
er you want. But nothing ever comes of it. No problem being solved, just words being spoken.

  You probably think I'm this guy that's quiet and never say anything. I can hold conversations with people if it fulfills a goal of some kind. If I have a moment to think about what I need to ask or say before I say it, I'm fine. But small talk is different. It's ad lib speech. There really isn't much thought being put into what is said.

  "Mike?"

  "Yes?"

  "You didn't answer my question." she said, a little worried. I didn't hear what she had asked.

  "I-I'm sorry. I k-kinda spaced there for a bit." I muttered nervously. I hoped she wasn't angry at me.

  "Hey, don't worry. You must have a lot on your mind." She responded, finally the subject changed to the incident at the hotel, "So, what are you going to do about this murder charge?"

  "Nothing." I answered after a deep breath, staring at the wall behind her. There was nothing to do except for hope to God that somehow a jury believed I had been framed.

  "You can't just do nothing!" She responded with an angry look on her face.

  What can I do? He has enough evidence to sink me. I don't even know who this guy is framing me. Besides, I've never been in a fight in my life!

  I could feel my heart rate quicken. I took another deep breath.

  "How do I catch a guy when there is no evidence against him?" I ask calmly.

  "I don't know, but it's not like you have anything to lose here."

  Hope.

  I wanted to speak out, but instead I held my tongue because I couldn't think of anything good to say. So Jessica continued talking.

  "I figured this sort of thing would be right up your alley." She said, calming down. "I bet you play games like these every day on your computer."