Long Live the Pub

by Avi King

“Parker, I have an assignment here for you,” Sergeant Donald said as Parker walked into the room.

“What is it, Sir?” Parker asked, interested in his first case in three months. The small town of Kensington wasn’t exactly a hot bed for crime.

Sergeant Donald picked up the case file that lay on his desk and opened it. “Stewart Collins was killed last night. The body is hanging in the middle of the Kensington Circle. I want you to find out who killed him and why. Your team has already taped off the site. As you can imagine I want this cleaned up A.S.A.P.” Sergeant Donald handed Parker the case file and left.

Parker left the sergeant’s office and went straight to his car. Before heading out he read the file. Stewart Collins had been a wealthy man who had recently made plans to buy the Kensington Circus Pub and turn it into an antique store. He didn’t have any enemies, but the file said that Henry Shapiro, the pub’s owner, was very reluctant to let the pub go. He and Collins were supposed to sign the agreement the following week.

Parker arrived on the scene at 7:45 AM. It was still very foggy outside; the whole area was covered in it. The circle itself was rather empty, with a few cars lining the streets around it. The businesses were hard to see through the thick fog.

“Well, it’s about time you showed up.” Officer Garber had joined the force several months after Parker. “I’m freezing my ass off out here.”

Parker smiled. “Oh, man up, Garber, we’ll be out of here soon enough. Now, who found the body?”

“This man over here. His name is Stan Mitchell.” Officer Garber pointed at a man sitting on a bench across the street.

“Very good, Garber. Now can you get me some coffee?”

“Right away, Sir.” Officer Garber ran off.

Parker walked over to the man sitting on the bench across the street. “Hello, my name is Detective Parker. So, it was you who found the body?”

“Yessir, that would be me, Stan Mitchell, at your service.” He sounded drunk and was swaying back and forth.

“Well, can you tell me how you came across this body?” Parker asked.

“Well, ya see here, I was just at the Pub last night havin’ myself a few drinks. I left to try and get home, but I couldn’t remember which way home was, so I walked a few blocks in the wrong direction and just passed out. I woke up this mornin’ feelin’ cold and had a hell of a headache. So I came back here to the circle to get myself some coffee and that’s when I realized, not only was nothin’ open yet, but there was old man Collins just hangin’ from that tree.” Stan pointed loosely to the tree where Stewart Collins hung.

“And you didn’t see him there last night?” Parker inquired.

“Like I said, as usual, I drank myself silly and was just fumblin’ around. I don’t remember seein’ old Collins there last night.” Stan paused for a second and then grabbed his head. “See here, detective, can I please go get somethin’ for my head? It’s just killin’ me.”

After taking down Stan’s address and phone number, Parker let Stan go. He then proceeded back to the center of the circle and began his investigation. He took his time looking around the surrounding area. He noticed that there was a dark brown beer bottle near the edge of the grass. He picked it up and bagged it as evidence. He then made his way to the tree and Collins’ dead body. It was in an awful state. Stewart was covered in bruises that looked to be inflicted by a blunt object. His hands were bound behind his back with a rock climbing rope. Attached to the noose, which was made from the same rope, was an index card with the words “Long Live the Pub,” pressed in dull grey pencil.

Parker removed the card and put it in another evidence bag. As he was walking back over to Officer Garber, he noticed that there were a few footprints in the grass that didn’t look like they had been made with a normal shoe. He couldn’t tell what type of shoe left the prints. He took out his camera and took a picture of the prints. He had learned all he could from the site and told Officer Garber and the rest of the team to take the body to the morgue.

“Parker, we got Sarah Collins, Stewart’s wife of a year, waiting for you in interrogation.” Wasting no time, Parker proceeded down the hall and into the interrogation room where Sarah sat.

“Hello, Mrs. Collins,” Parker said as he closed the door behind him.

Mrs. Collins was shaking vigorously and crying. “Why am I here?” she croaked.

“I’m just going to ask you a few questions, and if all goes well you’ll be out of here in no time.” He sat down and opened his file. “So, Mrs. Collins, when was the last time you saw your husband?”

“Yesterday afternoon. We had lunch together at the Lazy Day Café.”

“And he didn’t come home for dinner?”

“No. He said he had to give Henry the finalized copy of the contract so he could look it over before he signed it.”

“And what did you do during the rest of the day?”

“I went to Iron Works for two hours after lunch and climbed. Then I came home, but had forgotten my rope. I decided to just leave it, and made myself dinner. Then I decided to go to sleep because I was pretty tired.”

“I’ll have to check with the people at Iron Works to see if your story checks out, but for now you can go.” Parker got up and left the room.

That night, Parker decided to examine the Pub first-hand. He sat there and looked the place over. It was a nice small restaurant with pictures of the circus on the walls. However, his focus was not on the scenery for long. He was there mainly to people-watch.

Halfway through his meal of the Pub’s famous fish and chips, Parker saw Stan Mitchell walk in and take his place at the bar. Stan ordered a Coors light as the man next to him ordered another bottle of the beer he was drinking. The two started to chat. They seemed to know each other and cracked jokes as Stan began to drink himself silly, as he said was a usual occurrence.

When Parker’s waiter came over to see how his meal was, Parker requested to speak to Henry Shapiro, the owner. A few minutes later, Henry walked out and took a seat at Parker’s table.

“How can I help you, Mr.…?”

“Parker. Detective Parker. I’m just here to ask you a few questions.”

“Ok, well, what would you like to know?”

“Well, I’m sure you are aware that Mr. Collins has been killed. I was just wondering if he came into the pub last night.”

“Oh sure, he came by to drop off the finalized contract. He just dropped it off and left.”

“What time did he come in?”

“It must have been around ten o’clock. There weren’t that many people left in here, just me, the bartender, Stan, and John.”

“Who’s John?” Parker asked.

“Oh, John Green, he’s the man over at the bar drinking with Stan. He’s been coming here his whole life, even before I owned the place. Him and Stan usually meet up here and have a drink or two every night.”

“Well, thanks for answering my questions. I’ve learned all I need for now.”

“Ok, I hope you enjoyed the meal. Come back again.”

“Oh, these fish and chips are some of the best I’ve ever had, no wonder people love this place.” He paid his bill and left.

The next day, Parker had John Green brought into the station for interrogation.

“Why am I here?” John questioned. “I have an eleven o’clock tee time up at Tilden.”

“Don’t worry, Mr. Green, we’ll get through this quickly. I was just wondering how long you’ve been a customer at the Kensington Circus Pub?”

“Well, I’ve been going there ever since I was a little boy. I usually go there every night for an evening drink.”

“Did you know a man named Stewart Collins?” Parker asked.

John had a confused look on his face. “Stewart who? Collins? No, I don’t know him. But his name does sound familiar.”

“He was the man who was about to buy out the Pub.”

“Oh, that’s right, Stan was telling me about him, he told me how he was going to ruin the Pub.”

“Well, he isn’t anymore,” Parker said.

“Really? Why not?” John said with an uplifted tone.

“Because Stewart Collins was killed two nights ago. Do you know anything about that?”

“No,” John said, shocked. “Last I knew the Pub only had another week before Henry was going to sell the place.”

Parker looked him over. “That’s all I needed from you. You may go.”

As John stood up to leave, Parker noticed that he had on his golf shoes. “Do those shoes really stop you from slipping?”

“Oh, you bet your ass they do. I haven’t fallen once,” John said as he left the room.

Parker was sure that he knew who had murdered Stewart. There was just one thing he had to check before he and his team could make an arrest. He walked down the hall to the evidence room and pulled out the bottle and the index card. He saw that it was a bottle of Sam Adams. He then turned his attention to the card. Parker looked closely at the dull grey-penciled marks, which confirmed his theory.

The team approached John, as he was about to tee off at the tenth tee.

“John Green, you’re under arrest for the murder of Stewart Collins.”

The team cuffed John and threw him into the back of the squad car.

Parker found himself back at the Kensington Circus Pub that same evening. He sat down at the bar next to Stan, ordering himself a beer. “Can you believe your friend John? He must have really loved this place.”

“Come again?”

“Well, clearly John loved this place more than anybody. I mean, he killed Stewart so that this place would live.”

“It was my man John? Holy smokes, really? How’d yah know?”

“Well, first of all, he left his beer bottle at the scene, not the smartest thing on his part, but he must’ve been drunk. He then goes out of his way to steal Mrs. Collins’ climbing rope, which might have thrown me off if Mrs. Collins hadn’t told me that she had forgotten it at Iron Works. Then, he stepped all over the wet grass in his golf shoes, why didn’t he just use normal shoes? Idiot! Finally, I’ve golfed enough to know a shitty golf pencil when I see one. This man was one of the sloppiest murderers I’ve ever seen.”

“Damn detective, I never woulda’ thought that old boy John would do somethin’ as crazy as that. I mean, I love this place more than anybody, but I aint crazy or nothin’. Well, at least we can enjoy some good times.” The bar tender refilled Stan’s beer and handed one to Parker. Stan turned to Parker. “A toast my friend,” he said as he raised his glass. “Long live the Pub!”

Parker took up his beer and tapped it with Stan’s. “Long live the Pub.”