Sweet Death

by Michael Yep

It was the day before the wedding. Tiffany and Martin were getting married at the Brazilian Room in Tilden Park. In the midst of January, they were lucky it was sunny, as it was normally raining or at least gloomy. Overlooking Berkeley and other parts of the Bay Area, the Brazilian Room was the perfect place for the perfect couple to get married.

Tiffany and Martin had met years ago in high school. They first laid eyes on each other when they were assigned adjacent seats in their AP U.S. History class. Ever since then, they had gone to Junior Prom, Senior Prom, both Winter Balls, and even made a special request to sit next to each other during the graduation ceremony. It was true love.

Martin was on his way to the wedding rehearsal. Tiffany had left much earlier than him for Martin went to the Cal football game with his buddies at 12:30 pm. Martin hadn’t missed a home game since they both attended, and he wasn’t planning on ever doing so. Martin had left the house after changing out of his Cal clothes. Heading east towards Tilden Park, Martin looked left and then right before crossing the Southern Pacific Railroad. A train was coming from far away and the warning arm was slowly coming down. In his Subaru Impreza WRX STI, Martin decided he had plenty of time to make it safely across. He stepped on the clutch and shifted into fourth. Martin did not realize that he shifted slightly before disengaging the clutch, and the car came to an abrupt stop. He quickly put the car in neutral and started it up. Nothing happened. He tried again. Nothing happened. Martin spent half a minute trying to start the car, but it wouldn’t budge. Martin forgot about the train and soon enough he hadn’t the need to care.

Police officers, ambulances, and investigators arrived at the scene thirty minutes after the accident. Martin’s car was not totaled, but was only impacted at the front of the car. The rest of the car was more or less intact. The right side was slightly damaged by the secondary impact of the car swinging and hitting the side of the train. On the ground, there was broken glass along with a fine crystal-like powder. After taking photographs of the scene, Investigator Mark Coleman removed some of this powder and placed it into his evidence bag.

“So, what do you think happened here?” one of the police officers asked Mark.

“I’m not sure yet, Sir.”

“I’m pretty damn sure I know what happened.”

“What.”

“You see, I can tell this man drives fast cause he’s got one of these STI’s here.”

“You’re saying he drives fast because he has a sexually transmitted infection?” Mark said, fooling around with the cop.

“No, no, no. I’m talking about the car, stupid. Everyone who has one drives fast and crazy. He probably saw the train coming and tried to make it across, but he couldn’t. Man, how stupid people can be.”

Mark didn’t know what really happened, but he knew the cop was wrong. “I don’t think that’s the case, Sir.”

“Why not? It makes perfect sense to me!”

“Well, let’s take a quick look inside the car. As you can see, the shift lever is currently in the neutral position so the man was obviously not moving. Secondly, if you look into the glove compartment, you will find receipts from various gas stations. The driver has written calculations on them determining the average gas mileage per fill up. According to these receipts, the average is about 22 miles per gallon. The max on the highway for an STI is 23 so we can tell he is not a fast driver.”

The police officer walked away, head down, for he knew he had been outsmarted. Mark still did not have enough clues to determine the cause of the accident. He decided to examine the car further and opened the trunk which was already half opened. Jumbled all over the trunk were metal suitcases and bundles of what seemed to be cocaine. Mark picked up the bag and indeed, it was cocaine. He reached inside of his jacket and pulled out the evidence bag. Near the top he wrote “Cocaine.”

Mark drove up Marin Avenue and headed toward Tilden Park. He wondered how he would bring up the bad news to Martin’s family. It was not easy to tell a family about a death, especially during a wedding rehearsal. As Mark drove into the parking lot, he sensed that no one knew a thing.

“Excuse me; do you know where Martin’s immediate family is?” Mark asked the receptionist.

“They’re right outside these back doors, sir,” she said, pointing at the glass doors leading to the magnificent view. Mark walked onto the lawn. The family stood up to greet him with confusing and concerning faces.

“Hello, are you Martin’s family?” Mark asked.

“Yes, and who might you be?” asked Tiffany, Martin’s fiancée.

“I am Investigator Mark Coleman from the Berkeley Police Department. I have some unfortunate news to tell you all. Martin is dead.”

All was silent. What was supposed to be a happy day turned into a day no parent should have to experience. Their only child had died tragically on what was to be the day before he would marry his high school sweetheart.

“Tell us what happened,” Martin’s mother said, as they sobbed uncontrollably.

“It was a car accident. His car stalled on the railroad track and was hit by a train,” reported Mark.

Martin’s parents could not believe what they had heard. Martin had always kept his cars in perfect condition. He had never received a ticket and never been involved in a crash.

“I don’t see this happening. He is usually a good driver and his cars never fail,” said the mother.

“I know this is hard to deal with right now. I can say that my team and I will work on investigating issues with the car but I have to ask you all a few questions regarding Martin. Individually please.” Mark pulled Tiffany aside first. They went inside the building and sat down in a corner.

“Can I ask you about Martin’s occupation?”

“Yes, he was an investment banker for Goldman Sachs in San Francisco. He seemed to always have a dream of working on Wall Street, but that’s where he ended up. He managed several billion dollars for clients,” Tiffany reported.

“Was everything okay at work?” asked the officer.

“Of course,” Tiffany replied, “He was on track to become partner.”

“Again, we are sorry to have to bring you this horrible news. We will finished up our investigation and let you know. We believe it was just a terrible accident.”

The police decided to look at the car and they came across a very troubling finding. The gas in the tank of the car was saturated with a chemical. They also found fingerprints all over the car. After investigating the car thoroughly, Mark decided to give Goldman Sachs a call.

“Hello. May I speak with the person in charge with personnel?” asked Mark.

“May I ask who this is first?”

“This is Investigator Mark Coleman from the Berkeley Police Department.”

“Thank you. Here you go.”

“Hello. How may I help you?” asked the personnel manager.

“I have a few questions about Martin Peterson.”

“I’m sorry. What was the name again?”

“Martin Peterson.”

“I’m sorry. I don’t believe there is a person in the name of Martin Peterson working in this office.”

“Thank you.” Mark knew something was wrong. He decided to go talk to Tiffany once more.

Mark walked up to the house and knocked on the door. Seconds later, Tiffany answered.

“Hello Officer. How may I help you?”

“We need to talk.”

“I thought I told you everything you need to know.”

“That was before we investigated Martin’s car. Was the car mainly his, or did you also drive it occasionally?”

“It was his car. I’ve never driven a manual.”

“Your fingerprints were found all over the car with a great number around the fuel tank door. Do you have any comments about that?”

“Whenever we fill up for gas, I am the one who gets out.”

“What about the cocaine in the trunk. What do you know about Martin as a drug dealer?”

“I don’t know anything about cocaine. Why would he have cocaine in his trunk?”

“I am thinking that that’s where all his income is based.”

“What about his job at Goldman Sachs?”

“I already called and they know nothing of a Martin Peterson. You lied to me.” Tiffany was now feeling nervous. “Can you also explain the sugar found in the gas?”

Tiffany knew that he was onto her. The only thing she could do now was tell the truth.

“It was all a lie. Martin never graduated from the Haas School of Business. He wasn’t an investment banker. He was a drug dealer.”

“Are you the only one who knew about this?”

“Yes. He lived a lie his whole life. I thought that I could change him. Make him a better person. But it was just too hard.”

Mark grasped Tiffany’s hands and placed them in handcuffs. She would be spending the rest of her life in prison.

Before filing the case, Mark took a quick glance at his brilliant work. Martin Peterson was murdered by fiancée Tiffany who put sugar in the gas causing the engine to stall on the train tracks. The suspect’s prior training as a chemist at Chevron Corporation gave her the knowledge of the proper proportion of gas to sugar needed to disable the engine at the exact location. The motive in this homicide was to preserve the honor of his family. No one knew he was a drug dealer, and Tiffany didn’t want his family to ever find out. Case closed.