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Chapter 34: The Murderer Moved Very Quickly
Bernie's theatrical moment was derailed, and he took several seconds to collect himself before regaining his enthusiasm.
"The night shift workers testified that Old Tom and Billy remained in the tent the entire time and never left."
He located the relevant transcript in the case file, spread it across the desk with a flourish, and declared:
"This testimony is completely fabricated."
"That night, their eyes and attention were glued to the gambling table. They wouldn't have noticed if someone walked out naked."
Sam's face flushed crimson. He shot to his feet, stammered "I, " for several long moments, then collapsed back into his chair in defeat.
Theodore gave his shoulder a consoling pat.
Sam looked up with wounded eyes. "Are you certain about this?"
Bernie nodded with unmistakable pride. "Absolutely! They confided in me privately."
"That night, nobody was paying attention to anyone else. Every eye was on the cards and chips. They had no clue who came, who went, or who stepped out to relieve themselves."
Bernie patted Sam's other shoulder in mock comfort. "Look at it this way, before we had no suspects. Now we suddenly have over a dozen possibilities."
Theodore detected sarcasm in Bernie's reassurance. "Anything else?"
Bernie straightened with renewed pride. "Plenty more. The guys shared everything with me."
He opened his notebook and began reading aloud:
"They'd actually suspected the victim's abnormal financial situation for some time and had directly asked him about his money source."
"The victim boasted that he had a benefactor helping him out."
Bernie flipped several pages and continued: "They also revealed that while Billy claimed friendship with the victim, the two had been feuding for months."
"The pair competed viciously at the gambling table. When other players saw them at the same table, they'd quietly back away and watch the fireworks."
"Apparently, one night both kept raising stakes until they hit over 70 dollars. After Billy won that hand, the victim nearly started a brawl."
Both Theodore and Sam sat in stunned silence.
Old Tom had moved into the victim's house, Billy competed with him everywhere, and Roy held complete contempt for his oil field workers.
Hank appeared to have three close associates, but in reality possessed not a single genuine friend.
Bernie proudly tucked away his notebook, cleared his throat, and announced with theatrical solemnity:
"So, it's your turn, my friend. What can it tell you?"
This catchphrase had been coined by the tabloids for the 'Psychic Twin Detectives' and was Bernie's exclusive signature line.
Theodore gave him an odd look. "You're still reading those articles?"
Previously, Bernie had shown obsessive interest in newspaper coverage about them, hunting down every mention and reading them aloud to Theodore. When the readings stopped two days ago, Theodore assumed Bernie had moved on.
Bernie swiveled around, pulled a thick folder from his desk drawer, opened it carefully, and displayed the contents. "Of course! I've clipped every single article about me."
"You have no idea how rare it is for a police officer to appear in newspapers, especially in positive coverage. This might be once-in-a-lifetime material."
Bernie reverently returned his treasures to the folder, muttering to himself: "When I'm old and gray, I'll show these to my grandson so he knows how impressive his grandfather was in his prime."
After a moment's consideration, he magnanimously added: "I'll include you in the stories too, naturally."
Theodore silently gave him a thumbs-up, then gathered their three investigation reports together.
"The victim definitely had a secret income source, and now that pipeline has been transferred to Billy."
Bernie, having safely stored his memorabilia, turned back around. "Do you suspect Billy is our killer?"
As he asked, his eyes fixed on Theodore like twin spotlights.
When Theodore remained silent, Bernie nodded knowingly and whispered to Sam: "Did you feel that cold wind just now?"
Theodore tapped the table for attention. "Billy was likely sharing the income source with the victim. Now that Hank is dead, Billy has exclusive access."
"I believe Billy possesses inside information, but he's not our murderer."
He paused deliberately. "Billy lacks the control and organizational skills to plan this murder."
Seeing Sam's confusion, Bernie took it upon himself to explain: "Hank's spirit told him it wasn't Billy."
Sam's eyes immediately filled with reverent awe as he stared at Theodore.
"Tomorrow we bring Billy in for questioning, and many answers will emerge." Theodore pretended not to notice Sam's reaction, began organizing his desk, and prepared to leave for the day.
Silence settled over the office again.
"What do you guys think, can the boss become Deputy Police Chief?" Bernie suddenly asked.
This topic immediately captured everyone's interest, sparking animated discussion throughout the room.
Theodore offered his assessment: "Unlikely. That's not how the brass operates. I think it's more probable they'll send a new Deputy Chief from headquarters."
Many colleagues nodded agreement with this analysis.
Bernie seemed dissatisfied with this prediction and continued grumbling until they parted ways: "If only the boss could make Deputy Police Chief."
The next morning, Sam arrived late, apologizing profusely and citing an urgent personal matter.
Just as the three prepared to bring Billy in for questioning, Wenner entered the office wearing a grim expression.
He summoned Theodore and his partners into his office, slammed a file onto the desk, and announced:
"This morning, a truck driver discovered a male body beside Highway 7. The victim has been preliminarily identified as Billy Wood."
"Cause of death remains undetermined. The responding patrol officer described it as apparent accidental drowning while intoxicated."
Wenner pointed at the three detectives. "This individual is connected to your current investigation. You'll accompany the forensic team to the scene."
The three followed the forensic vehicle to the location in subdued silence.
They'd been planning to question Billy today, who could have predicted the killer would act so swiftly?
Bernie pounded the steering wheel in frustration.
Sam wrestled with his own self-recrimination.
Theodore sat with his head down, writing and sketching in his notebook, occasionally glancing up to check their direction.
The crime scene was located at a drainage outlet beside the highway. Wastewater from oil field operations flowed here after rudimentary treatment before being discharged into the environment.
Because several oil wells discharged wastewater at this single point, a small river had formed over time.
The stream meandered alongside Highway 7, disappearing into the distance. Billy lay at the river's origin, motionless in his work clothes.
Standing on the highway, Theodore could clearly see the towering oil derricks and workers climbing the metal frameworks.
Less than three kilometers from the oil field.
Theodore shifted his attention to the immediate scene.
The victim's head and chest were submerged in the murky water, while his lower abdomen and legs remained dry on the embankment.
Clear drag marks and footprints marked the path between highway and wastewater stream, though the footprints were too damaged for meaningful analysis.
An empty whiskey bottle lay beside the victim's head. The overwhelming stench of alcohol was unmistakable even at a distance.
Theodore knelt beside the body alongside the forensic team. While they conducted their preliminary autopsy, Theodore struggled with the victim's clenched fist.
He painstakingly pried open the rigid fingers and extracted several pieces of shredded paper from the palm.
Water damage had rendered any writing completely illegible.
The forensic team completed their initial examination and began dividing responsibilities. Two members brought body bags to transport the corpse, while the others collected evidence in paper containers.
Bernie intercepted one of the forensic examiners to inquire about their preliminary findings.
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