A Diner Murder Part 2(A Fridge & Lamp Mystery)

            “We put him in a bowl of warm water, so he could thaw out,” Fridge said sarcastically.

Fridge moved his smartphone away from his right ear and winced. The chief was yelling at him; she didn’t share his sense of humor.

“You found the missing chef; he has the victim’s blood on his hands, and he refuses to talk.” Chief Neptune barked. “What else do you want? This case is closed as far as I’m concerned.”

Fridge rubbed the bridge of his nose. “Listen, chief. Some things aren’t adding up. Why would the chef kill the waiter in front of three potential witnesses? Wouldn’t he strike when he was alone with the waiter? And why would he lock himself in the freezer? Also, we still don’t have a motive.”

Chief Neptune was silent for a moment. “Fridge, I see where you're coming from. But it’s out of my hands. Your other suspects have lawyered up; their attorneys will be there in half an hour.”

Fridge sighed audibly. About an hour had passed since he and Lamp found the chef. He didn’t speak from that moment on. All the investigators tried to get him to answer some of the lingering questions, but he wouldn’t budge. His eyes were wide, and he picked at his fingernails. Something or someone put the fear of God in him. Fridge ended the call and looked across the diner. Jeremy, Peter, and D.C. were still sitting at their corner booth. They looked noticeably more relaxed. Jeremy caught Fridge's eyeline and flashed him a smug grin. Fridge scowled back at him. He hated this. A young man was dead. Three rich assholes who could be murderers would leave the crime scene scot-free. They could use their immense fortunes to avoid any legal action or inquiry. 

Half an hour. They were running out of time. Fridge had to act now. Lamp was aligning paper menus on the floor manager’s stand. Fridge grabbed his arm and pulled him to the side. “Set a timer for thirty minutes,” Fridge asserted.

Lamp obliged. “What are you doing?” he asked.

Fridge ignored his question, “Pull up all the files we have on Jeremy, Peter, and D.C.”

“Okay?” Lamp said skeptically.

            Lamp took a few minutes to organize the files on his phone. Fridge paced back and forth on the kitchen floor. What were they missing? They needed a motive. Fridge stopped pacing and noticed a pool of yellow sludge near the stove. Fridge took a napkin from the countertop and pressed it to the mystery substance. He brought the napkin close to his nose. It smelled delicious. Probably the base for some soup or other entrée. Fridge was confused. Why would an experienced Michelin-star chef make such a mess? Normally, he would write it off as an accident, but he couldn’t this time. Every detail mattered.

Forensics had been through every cupboard and shelf in the kitchen. What could they have overlooked? An industrial-sized pot caught Fridge’s eye. It sat on the stove directly above the pool of soup. It was large enough to serve at least twenty people. Fridge looked in the pot, it was filled to the brim with the same soup that was on the floor. Fridge grabbed a metal spatula and poked around. Immediately, he felt something solid. Fridge took off his suit jacket and rolled up his sleeves. He plunged his right hand into the pot. Lamp glanced up from his phone and grimaced; he began vigorously rubbing his hands, cleaning a mess that wasn’t there.

Fridge pulled a wooden fixture of some kind from the pot. Fridge carefully walked over to the sink and rinsed the soup off the object. He was holding a circular wooden disk; it had eight spokes that met in the center. It looked like a miniature pirate ship wheel. The spokes extended outside the circumference of the disk. Attached to the end of each spoke was a plastic clamp. Fridge grabbed a kitchen knife from a nearby drawer and pressed the handle into one of the clamps. It popped into place with a strong ‘click!’ noise. Perfect fit. Lamp produced a tape measure from his pocket. Fridge held the wheel up to face him. Lamp measured the length of a spoke and the distance between two clamps. “We found our murder weapon,” Lamp said confidently.

“Time?” Fridge asked.

Lamp looked at his phone. “Twenty-two minutes to go.”

Fridge shook his head and placed the wheel on the counter. Another piece of evidence that implicated the chef. He needed a motive; that would complete the puzzle. Why would a rich, successful man kill a service worker? What drives him? Fridge snapped his fingers and pointed to Lamp’s phone. “I need a record of all business transactions between the three men.”

Lamp began typing furiously. “Okay, I have two proposed business mergers from Jeremy Sackler in Fall and Spring of last year. Mr. Cooper and Mr. Bartholomew are listed as financial advisors.”

“What were the details of the mergers?” Fridge asked.

            “Jeremy obtained a fifteen percent stake in two tech companies that have experienced unprecedented growth in the first quarter of this year,” Lamp replied. “There are no transactions involving all three men in the past eight months.”

            D.C. works for the FED, and Peter is a stockbroker; the information their jobs give them access to would make them ideal partners for any investor.

            Fridge massaged his beard. “I wonder…”

            “Pull up all bank statements for the chef,” Fridge ordered.

            Lamp obliged. His eyes suddenly went wide. “He has a pending invoice of fifty thousand dollars from a small drug company called Heal-X. Heal-X is a subsidiary of…”

            “Let me guess. Jeremy Sackler’s corporation,” said Fridge. 

            Lamp nodded. Fridge began quickly pacing across the linoleum floor.

            “I’m going to throw a lot of hypotheticals at you, so bear with me,” He said to Lamp, his eyes focused on the floor.

“What if I found a way to make a lot of money by investing in companies before their share value skyrockets. I can do this because I have the help of a successful stockbroker and a FED employee. Now, let’s say my accomplices refuse to help me further. How could I convince them otherwise? Money won’t work; they’re both rich. So, what if I set up an elaborate dinner at a diner after hours? Then I pay the chef to kill the waiter or hide the weapon after I’ve killed him. I construct an elaborate murder to intimidate and threaten my former coworkers to continue working for me and keep their mouths shut.” Fridge narrated.

“That’s a lot of ifs,” Lamp said while straightening his tie.

“Just say it’s plausible,” Fridge said indignantly.

Lamp sighed. “Yeah, it’s plausible.”

            “Time?”

            “Nine minutes left.”

            Fridge thought for a moment. “Give me your phone.”

            “What? Why?” said Lamp, pulling his phone to his chest.

            “I’m going off the books; it’s better you don’t know about it, so you have deniability.” Fridge replied. “I’ve never asked for anything. Give me this.”

            Lamp sighed and handed his phone to Fridge. Fridge threw his colleague’s phone in his pocket and briskly exited the kitchen. He crossed the bar and approached the corner booth.

            “Mr. Sackler, I need a word with you.” Fridge said plainly

            Jeremy furrowed his brows. “Alright. As long as it’s quick. It’s been a long night.”

            “Yeah, sure,” Fridge replied.

He grabbed Jeremy’s arm and guided him to the kitchen. With his right hand, he pulled out Lamp’s phone. Seven minutes. Fridge nudged Jeremy towards the walk-in freezer. Jeremy took a step back and exclaimed, “What is the meaning of this? You have no right to push me about.”

Fridge swept his foot in a circle and kicked Jeremy’s lower calf. At the same time, he shoved him forward. Jeremy lost his balance and fell into the freezer. Fridge entered the freezer quickly and closed the door behind him. He grabbed a metal bar, probably part of some shelf that was yet to be built, and lodged it into the door’s locking mechanism. He tried to push the door open; it was jammed. “Good,” Fridge said to himself.

He pulled the phone out. Six minutes. Jeremy Sackler picked himself off the floor and wiped the dust off his chin. “I’m going to have you fired for this.” He snarled.

Fridge drew his sidearm and pointed it at Jeremy’s forehead. Jeremy’s eyes widened. He backed up and threw his hands up. “I know what you did,” Fridge stated.

            Jeremy suppressed a smile. “I don’t know what you mean.”

            “Have you ever been in a place like this? Probably not. You don’t know what it’s like to work tirelessly for breadcrumbs. You’ve had a silver spoon in your mouth your whole life.” Fridge said accusingly.

            Jeremy smirked. “What can I say, I was born lucky.”

            Poor-shaming wasn’t going to work. Fridge checked the phone. Four minutes. He needed a new strategy. Something that would get under his skin. Something that would damage his ego.

            “What’s it like? To be trapped in here with me. Knowing that none of the money or influence you’ve accrued can help you. You are powerless. Your life is in my hands,” said Fridge.

            Jeremy’s lips began to quiver. Bullseye. “How does it feel? Knowing that all you’ve achieved won’t make your wife love you. It won’t make your father respect you. It won’t change the fact that you’re a loser.” Fridge growled.

            Two minutes. Jeremy took a step towards Fridge. “You couldn’t be more wrong, Detective Jackson. I hold all the cards. This is just a minor setback!”

Fridge heard footsteps behind him, outside the freezer door. “Detective Jackson, we need you to open this door!” A voice ordered.

Suddenly, he heard a loud bang. They were trying to break the door down. One minute.

“It doesn’t matter to me. I’ll always have this moment. A moment you’ll never live down. The moment when you had no control or authority. It will keep you up at night,” Fridge said, looking Jeremy directly in his eyes.

They were burning with anger. Thirty seconds. Another loud bang shook the room. “Detective Jackson, this is your final warning!” Fridge glanced over his shoulder. Jeremy lunged forward and reached for Fridge’s gun. Fridge stepped back and fired a bullet between his eyes. Fridge stood over Jeremy’s body. He pulled out Lamp’s phone and paused the timer. Ten seconds remaining. Fridge wiped the sweat off his forehead and faced the door. He got on his knees and placed his hands behind his head.