The cold wind blew on his face, as he treaded the streets on that very November. He could not let the thought of the case slip by. But of course, he was too tired, and just wanted to get home. A homeless man came out to him begging for some money. A quarter was handed out. The man then disappeared. There were dogs ransacking the dumpster in search for food. He got to a bend and turned in.
"Bruce, right?" the man in shades asked him. "Yeah." And the man continues, "You know the deal." A swift reply,"A penny for each word, no witnesses." Information was money as it is, and anonymity was gold. "Here it is, he was actually doing some underground deals, and that stupid Dick got greedy and wanted a larger cut. He is dead real alright, and he almost dragged me into the mess as well. But the man you should be going for goes by the name of Big Brad." And as the man in shades said his last word, he slumped to the floor. Big Brad is now dead.
He left the alley and walked on. It may not have been the best of days, and then as he gave a little whine on having to work in this terrible weather, he headed to the crime scene. It was more or less the bloody scene that every provocative murder is made of, shattered glass, battered furniture, drops of blood everywhere. He retraced the steps to where the victim last breathed.
He slowly recalled the deal with the victim, of course, it was simple, everything was swept under the rug. That very scene, a man died. A conflict of interest. He sat back and continually reminisce about that bloody morning. It was dark and it was grim but all it was done beautifully. And as he left that very room, he already knew who the murderer would be, and it was not Bruce.
