KtyL's blog

The Wrong Evidence

It was Saturday night. I left the jewelry store at six pm, and went to the restaurant, "Emily", to have dinner. I was a bit of anxious then, so I felt going to one of my favorite restaurant might help.

It looked like the business of Emily was better than usual that day. The whole place was filled with chatters and laughter. Bob, the owner of the restaurant, didn't even have time to raise his head when I greeted him. I felt a little relieved when I found myself a table and sat down.

But I didn't enjoy the joyful atmosphere for even 5 minutes. After I made my order, I felt someone looking at me. And I could tell that it was in a very unfriendly way, like a predator keeping an eye on its prey. Trying not to be noticed by any other people, I carefully looked around. Then I found him. A man in a long dirty yellowish coat with a hat, pretended to be reading newspaper. He sat not far away from me, so I could know in a quick glance that he was actually watching me over the edge of papers.

I was being watched. But why? I was both confused and nervous. But the man seemed to be more restless than I was. Just as I finished my drink, the man rose up and walked toward the counter. He talked to Bob for a minute. I saw he show something to Bob, but Bob shook his head firmly. Then the man left the restaurant.

I finished my meal in a hurry. When I finished my meal and went to pay my bill, I asked Bob about the strange man.

"Oh, I'm just about to tell you that. That guy claimed to be a detective. Funny, huh? That outfit of his, say, is just like that one of Dick Tracy's. Oh, that's not the point. He asked me whether I knew where you were on 8 pm on March 22nd or not. And you know what he was up to? “Bob lowered his voice to a whisper.”It seems that he thinks you are involved in the kidnapping of Janet Cole."

My heartbeat speeded up a little. The kidnapping of Janet Cole...

Janet Cole, the 22-year-old college student disappeared on her way home on March 22nd. The kidnappers asked 200,000 dollars for ransom. The police didn't catch them when they took the money away; in fact, no one saw how they got the money. It's just like the money vanished in the air, and the unconscious girl popped up at the same place. Because she had lost her consciousness, she couldn't give any information about the criminals. The investigation hadn't made much progress ever since the girl was released - at least that was what the police told the mass media.

But how come I become a suspect?

I tried to hide my nervousness from my face. But it seemed that I failed.

"Now, now, dude, don't worry!" Bob noticed my nervous look. "You are absolutely innocent! Me and the others can prove it for you, I told that guy. You have a - What do they call that? Oh, alibi. You've got a perfect alibi. You, Tom, Richard and I- We had a nice chat here. Richard took a picture of all four of us, remember?"

Yes, I remembered. Tom, Richard and I - we are all regular customers of Emily, and good friends of Bob's. That night we had dinner and a long talk together. Richard brought his new Polaroid with him and we decided to take a picture together. Bob took the photo and pinned it on the notice board behind the counter. On the photo there were signatures of all four of us and...

"Yeah, the date! Those bright little red digits on the bottom-right corner clearly show that you were with us on March 22nd, 8:30 pm. All three of us can prove it. And we have this photo. I remember that Richard even checked the date before taking the picture. Well, I showed the photo to our dear Mr. Detective and told him all these things. He seemed to finally understand and went away without arguing. At least he's a sensible man. You can't run about pointing finger at anyone and saying that he's a suspect, I say..."

I didn't listen to what Bob was chattering on. Yes, I have witnesses, and a photo to be evidence. It was clear that I was here, miles away from the road Janet Cole always walks home, when the kidnappers got the poor girl. Nothing to be worried about...

Nothing to be worried about.

"Bob," I interrupted Bob's endless chattering. "Thank you. Thank you so much. If you didn't speak up for me, I may have been taken as the suspect now! I'm so glad that I have a friend like you."

"Ah, it's nothing." Bob waved impatiently, but I can see that he was flattered. "But it's still strange that he has that portrait..." His voice nearly faded away, but I still heard it.

"Portrait? What portrait?" I asked.

"Oh, nothing important." Bob didn't look me in the eyes. "It's just - well, let’s put it in this way. The man showed me a piece of drawing, which he claimed to be the likeness of one of the kidnappers'. Um...well, I have to admit that it did look perfectly like you. Almost like a photograph, I'd say."

I didn't reply.

"And then...well, that's why I let him continue asking things like your alibi. But... I have no doubt in your innocence at the first place! You see, although the portrait looked just like your identical twin, anyone can distinguish you and the person in the drawing. You have a mole on your left cheek, right? Well, in that portrait it was on the right side. That guy also said the girl was pretty sure that it was on the right cheek, according to the police. You have an alibi on March 22nd, and you are apparently not the person that girl saw. Well, what else can one conclude? You are definitely innocent."

"Oh, I... I see. Thank you, Bob."

*

It took me no more than 15 minutes to drive home and rush up to the shallow apartment of mine. The old wooden stairs squeaked under my steps. Matt, my roommate, was snoring loudly on the floor when I entered the room. His laptop lay beside him, with its power still on.

"Matt, wake up." I kicked him on the leg. "Get up, we're leaving now."

"Huh…? Now? “Matt rubbed his eyes, trying to sober himself up." But I thought we planned to leave on the day after tomorrow? And what about the money?"

I showed him the jewelry I just bought this evening. “It’s all here. Come on, we have to leave here right away. I think somebody may have suspected us."

Matt nodded, and didn't ask a single word until we packed all the necessary things, jumped into his old Ford, and drove blocks away from our shabby apartment.

*

"So, what's the problem?" Matt asked when we passed the Sixth Avenue. "The police have come to you?"

"No, I mean, they didn't come to me directly. But they send a 'detective' to ask Bob about my whereabouts on that day."

I told Matt all the things that Bob had told me. The photo that saved me and the portrait that nearly turned me into the suspect. Matt listened carefully, and sank into deep thoughts after I finished my words. We fell into a silence.

I was lucky. I thought so when we drove out of the city. I couldn't figure out how that guy found me only by a portrait drawn by pencil, and how they could be sure the man in it was me. But those weren't important. We made sure that no tracks of us were left on the scene. Maybe the man just happened to go to the same restaurant as I did and saw me. Had it not been for the photo I might be arrested right away, but it might as well disclosed the fact that my alibi was a made-up one.

I did have dinner with Bob, Tom, and Richard. But it was not on March 22nd - it was on March 21st. I had noticed long ago that the calendar in "Emily" mistakenly marked March 21st as the Vernal Equinox Day. In fact, it was on March 20th this year. Bob, or Bob Morisaki, was a Japanese immigrant. Vernal Equinox Day is an official holiday in Japan, and although we didn't celebrate it here, this day still meant a lot to him. However, even as the owner of a restaurant, Bob lost track of time easily, and so were Tom and Richard. When Richard took out his camera, it was I who told him to check the date again, and it was also I who reminded Bob, "Yesterday was Equinox, right?" That was why the date on the photo shows March 22nd, and all three of them think we met on 22nd, instead of 21st. And where was I on March 22nd, 8:30 pm? On the driving seat of this car, with Matt on my right side, and the unconscious Janet Cole lying on the backseat.

I didn't plan to use the photo as evidence beforehand. It just flashed into my mind when the four of us decided to take a picture together. I did it just for fun, and I never thought it would become of help one day. I hoped that the detective hadn't noticed that the calendar marked the wrong day, but I still left the city earlier than expected, just in case.

I explained all these to Matt when he admitted that he couldn't figure out how I made all three of them believe the dinner was on the wrong date. He pondered for a while, and said that he might get the point.

"But," Matt added. “I still don't understand one thing. It's clear that the girl had a glimpse of you during the time in the car, maybe because this old thing jolted every a few blocks and finally woke her up for a second, even when we used ether to make her unconscious. But how come she remember your face so well, even a stranger can tell that you are the person in the drawing, and still get your mole on the opposite side?"

I laughed. This question was far easier than that one of the date on the photo. I thought he could figure it out by himself.

"Mate, I'm surprised you can't solve it alone. It's as simple as ABC. As our hostage only woke up for a second or two, she barely remembers in what condition she saw the strange man who kidnapped her. Janet Cole was on the backseat, and as the driver I never turned back to check on her. So whenever she woke up and saw my face, she must have seen my reflection in the rearview mirror."