A Strange Request At a Piano Bar

Beth sat across from Crammer at the breakfast dinner. He was munching on a large pile of pancakes covered with syrup and strawberries. She was only drinking coffee, she had for the first time ever an account full of money but she was still broke. She dared not spend anything she had received from the last job until she knew there would be no legal action for it. Crammer was calm as she had ever seen him and it gave her some comfort. “So in short,” he began wiping his chin as he spoke, “we have no ID on the victim and the only prints on the vial were yours and his.” Beth nodded, she had gathered that much from her own research. “Based on the letter the case was listed as a suicide, but the department is still very interested in why this man suddenly killed himself,” Crammer continued. “Why with the vial and why after I delivered it?” Beth said aloud and Crammer nodded his head in agreement. “But the real question he continued is…” he paused like he had many times before when he was teaching her, waiting for her to finish his sentence. “Who is John Delling?” she said and Crammer nodded. All we have to go on is the description you gave of the man at the bar and the bank drafts,” Crammer said. But we are not even sure if that was Delling, and whoever made the deposits covered their tracks pretty well.” Do we know where the deposit was made? Beth asked. Crammer slid a paper across the table, it was a photocopy of the deposit slip. It had no name but it did have the branch number. She checked her phone, the branch was close to them. She looked back up at Crammer who remarked “as soon as I finish this plate let's go check it out.” Beth smiled again, Crammer always came through. He could get into a lot of trouble giving her this info but she was grateful that he was not cutting her out of the case.

As they walked into the bank Beth looked around. It was a huge bank in a building that must be a hundred years old. Polished marble floors and wooden cubicles adorned the work space with old brass bar teller stalls. It looked like something out of an old movie and the vaulted ceiling made her feel small. Crammer led the way flashing his badge at the counter and asking to see a manager. Beth continued to scan the room, in between the columns in the lobby were large portraits of the bank's board of directors, past and present. One grabbed her attention. It was fairly recent and she looked at the plaque underneath it. CEO Dr. Stanley Birk and it looked as though he had only recently stepped down from the board. She studied his features hard, the suit, the age and appearance all matched the man she met at the bar. She wondered why he looked so familiar to her though. She walked back to Crammer who was talking to the manager about the deposit slip. As she walked up the manager was explaining that normally this sort of thing would not have been allowed and that he would look into it. Crammer nodded and asked him to contact him at the PD if he figured out who took the deposit. Beth broke in before the manager left asking for information on Dr. Birk “Oh,” the man replied, “he retired this month, just a few days ago.” “Could we see his office?'' Beth asked and the man looked at her strangely. “Is she with you?” he asked Crammer and the older detective nodded. The manager rather reluctantly showed them to the second floor office.

It looked like a typical office of a big investment banker and nothing had been moved out yet according to the manager. As they checked drawers around the office most of them opened with ease and contained papers and office products and files, things you would expect. But when Beth grabbed the lower right desk drawer it was locked. She waved Crammer over and showed him the locked drawer before producing the lock pick she carried in her pockets. He nodded and went to distract the manager. The lock was simple and not difficult to pick, when it opened inside were at least five glass vials identical to the one she was given in the envelope save for two details. These vials were all labeled and empty. She also noted the foam container they were all standing up in. The container could hold at least twelve vials in total leaving seven empty slots. She took one vial, carefully using her coat to pick it up, trying to not smudge any fingerprints. She slipped it in her pocket and re-locked the drawer. They thanked the manager for his help and left.

Sassafras Tincture, the label read and the bottle appeared quite old. Crammer examined it closely. They had dusted it at Beth’s office but had found no prints. Someone had cleaned each vial thoroughly. It is definitely the same bottle, Crammer said and Beth nodded. The label contained no manufacturing data, dates, or anything resembling medical notation. Beth had never heard of Sassafras tincture before, she knew it was the stuff they used to put in root beer but that was about it. She went to her computer and googled it and found several listings, but none of them matched the physical appearance of what they had on her desk. She sat looking at the bottle for a minute. On a hunch she typed in sassafras poison. The very first listing read…

“What was the poison identified in the toxicology report?” Beth asked Crammer. Crammer pulled out his cell phone. “Let’s find out,” he replied. A few minutes later they had an answer, safrole poisoning.

Crammer and Beth stood in front of Desoto’s desk with all their findings on the case. Desoto leaned back in his chair. “I know Dr. Birk,” he said flatly, he has no record to speak of and is an upstanding member of the community. “Hell, he donated a million dollars last year to make technology improvements here at the precinct,” he added, waving his arm out towards the rest of the department. “We know his record is clean,” Crammer said, “but we should still call him in for questioning?” “Or at least get a warrant to search his home,” Beth added. Desoto looked at her, “why are you even here?” he asked. Beth rolled her eyes, and Desoto scoffed. “Look,” he said looking back at Crammer, the case is closed, “it was a suicide. Maybe assisted but you do not have enough evidence to move forward and what you do have was obtained by an investigator without a warrant.” “Which is why we need the warrant,” Beth said exasperated and Desoto stood from his desk and slammed his palms down. “The case is closed!” he yelled in her face. Beth did not budge and the man slowly regained his composure, and stood up straight with his hands behind his back. “Even if it was open,” he said, trying to keep composed. “You are done, now get out before I have you arrested for your stunt at the bank.” Beth returned his cold stare, “you won't do that because then you would have to record what I was doing there in the first place.” The Captain clicked his tongue on the roof of his mouth. “Crammer,” he said, still locked on to her gaze, “badge and gun, you're suspended for two weeks.” Beth went to speak but Desoto cut her off. “Make that three,” he said, still staring her down. She held her tongue and watched Crammer place his badge and gun down.

Standing outside on the steps to the precinct, Beth continued to call Desoto every vile name she could think of. When she had been through the list at least twice she leaned against the stair railing out of breath. Crammer came and stood beside her, “feel better?” he asked. She did not feel better, not one bit. It was late in the day and all their work felt like it was for nothing. “So,” you wanna pay Dr. Birk a visit?” Crammer said playfully. She looked at the old man who smiled. “Yes,” she answered “I think that I do.”