Mini Mystery
Tommy Wilson was a happy guy. He had a job as a waiter in a local café, a rent-free home (he lived with his mother), and a plan for the future. That plan involved his secret girlfriend, Priscilla Kimball. She was the daughter of wealthy restaurant- owner Arthur Kimball, who was also Tommy’s employer. Although Tommy was neither overly smart nor overly fond of young Prissy Kimball, he was clever enough to realize that if he married her, he’d be financially set for life. But to do that, he needed to somehow gain her protective father’s favor, and that was what led to the kidnapping of Ron Mcgraw.
Ron was the café’s assistant manager, one of whose duties was to courier the week’s cash down the street to the safe at Arthur Kimball’s home every Saturday evening. The route covered three blocks, including a short, dimly lit alley, and that alley’s only door and window belonged to Sew What?, a shop that happened to be closed this week while its owner was away on vacation. On this particular Saturday night, a masked Tommy Wilson followed Ron McGraw into the alley, whacked him on the head from behind and dragged him to Tommy’s car. The unconscious Ron and his moneybag were driven to an abandoned shed at the edge of town, where Tommy left him, tied and gagged.
Which was the way the cops found Ron the next morning, frightened but unhurt, after Tommy burst into the police station and reported a man lying on the floor of a shed near Tommy’s home. He said he hadn’t gone near the man—neither victim nor rescuer had seen the other. Tommy just ran straight to fetch the authorities, who’d already been alerted that Ron hadn’t arrived home last night. The swarm of police also found the restaurant’s moneybag nearby, intact and untouched.
Tommy was an immediate hero. At the press conference, three TV stations interviewed him—“i was just walking down the street,” he said modestly to the cameras, “and heard him calling for help.” The boss’s daughter was thrilled. Her father even said to Tommy, with a wink, “Maybe you and Priscilla should go out sometime.” When Tommy noticed one of his former teachers, Angela Potts, in the crowd, she approached him, smiled and said, “Looks like you’re quite the star, Tommy. You find a missing kidnap victim, along with your boss’s money—” “Thank you, ma’am.” “—and it’s about to get even better,” she said. “Tomorrow they’ll know who did this.” “Excuse me?” “There’s only one place Mcgraw could’ve been attacked without being seen: that alley between Main and Jefferson. And the sewing shop in that alley has a security camera.”
Tommy felt his stomach lurch. “What?”
“The sheriff called the shop owner, Mary Appleton— she’s out of town at the moment—and sure enough, she says there’s a video camera inside the window aimed at the alley, says it runs 24-7. A lucky break.” Ms. Potts smiled again. “Mary’ll be back tomorrow morning, so then they’ll check the camera and we’ll know who the kidnapper is. Hey, I gotta go— congr a tul a t ions again.”
Acamera?! Tommy’s mouth had gone dry. When his heart finally started beating again, he knew what he had to do. He’d picked locks in the past; he could do it again. Tonight he would break into the shop, find the camera and steal the video. And if he couldn’t break in, or tripped an alarm . . . He’d burn down the shop. He would have no choice.
Around midnight Tommy headed downtown, bearing his lock-picking tools and—just in case—a can of gasoline. As soon as he entered the alley, though, he found Sheriff Charles Jones waiting for him. And the schoolteacher, Ms. Potts. “Going somewhere, Tommy?” the sheriff asked.
Tommy’s jaw dropped. He was caught, red-gascan-handed.
Suddenly, understanding dawned. “There’s no camera,” he said, groaning. “Is there?” Ms. Potts shook herhead. “But . . . why’d you suspect me?” he asked her.
Q. What kind of music did the Pilgrims like? A. Plymouth Rock!