Something fishy
Sheriff George Newman waited outside the Harborview Café as Wally Hoffman taped a handmade poster in the front window of his restaurant. The colorful sign announced that there would be a mandatory price increase for the upcoming Labor Day weekend, with the owner’s profound apologies written in a glaring red. When he finished the job, Wally unlocked the café door and let George inside, the smell of fresh coffee roasting a comfort in the face of the bad news.
“What’s with the new sign?” George asked, taking his usual seat at the empty counter.
Wally poured a steaming cup of coffee and pushed it over as George studied the frown lines on his ample face.
“I hate to do it, George, but I have to raise my prices by 20%,” he sighed. “Last month, we needed a new dishwasher. Before that, it was roof repairs. And last night—just before the holiday weekend and one of my busiest times— someone broke in and smashed my office window. So now I’m going to have to pay for that too!” He shook his head, his forehead creased with anxiety.
“I didn’t hear any reports come in over the radio. Did you call it in?” George asked, sipping his coffee.
“I knew you’d be here this morning, so I figured I’d just wait to show you myself,” Wally mumbled.
“Show me, then,” George ordered, as Wally led the way to the storeroom just behind the café. The storeroom also happened to house his office, where poster boards and a variety of paints were laid out on a folding table by his desk.
The floor was littered with shards of glass from the broken window on the other side of the desk.
“I made my poster last night and left it here to dry. Locked the door from the storeroom to the café, like I always do.” Wally patted the door separating the two spaces.
“Whoever broke in was stuck back here, thank goodness. They couldn’t get past the lock and into my safe, where I keep all the money. Best I can tell, they just took a couple of the hats from my special collection, which is a bummer. I’ve got one from every state.”
He waved at a bookcase displaying many caps, all in different colors with various state logos on them. There were obviously a few missing, the holes on the shelves making it plain for anyone to see.
George called the police station to report the incident before walking across the road to the pier to investigate further. There, he was greeted by three local fishermen at the dock, each with their coolers full of fish. After some small talk, he asked if any of them had heard anything while they were out that morning.
“I haven’t talked to anybody today except these two,” Ralph Finnegan replied with a smile. “The fish are biting today though. I’ve caught a couple big ones,” he bragged, gesturing to the large cooler just beside him.
“I didn’t hear a thing,” replied Bruce Wallace, “and we’ve been out here since before dawn.” His son, Brendan, nodded. That’s when George noticed he was wearing a VIRGINIA IS FOR LOVERS cap.
“Nice hat,” George said. “Is it new?”
“Yeah, my girlfriend just got it for me while she was on vacation.”
Brendan’s cheeks reddened and he changed the subject. “I’m starved. How about if we go to Wally’s for breakfast, Dad? I love his lumberjack breakfast.”
“Wally’s price hike is highway robbery! I’ll eat at home,” Ralph grumbled.
“Ralph, you can enjoy the station’s hospitality because you’re under arrest.” Q: How did Sheriff Newman know?