A neat little whodunnit from a writer with over 400 stories in more than a hundred publications.

KITCHEN CONFESSION

by Stephen D. Rogers

Dana stared with disbelief at her ex-partner. "Are you asking me, now a private citizen who no longer wears the badge, to assist in an official police investigation?"

Nodding, Detective Thompson confessed that's why he was sitting in her kitchen today. "You know the players. They won't talk to me and they won't talk to the juvenile officer."

"They're juveniles?"

"More than that. They're friends of Jason."

Dana froze. "My son is involved?"

"No one places him at the scene. I just remember these kids from his birthday party."

Dana tried to remember whether they'd Pin the Tale or cuff-and-stuff. "What seems to be the problem?"

"Vandalism at the Lobster Shack. They plan to open later than usual and some kids took that as an invitation to trash the place. Well, one kid. But the others won't cooperate."

"Eleven-year-old boys? You'd have a better chance asking a mafioso to talk. On the other hand, if the kids were five, you'd have to hire a second stenographer to take it all down."

"Can you help?"

"What did you have in mind?"

Detective Thompson cleared his throat. "If Jason invited the three of them over here, you could speak to each of them alone. They seemed pretty comfortable with you at the party."

Dana remembered then. Cuff-and-stuff. At least she hadn't taught them how to break and enter. "Okay."

"Good." Detective Thompson glanced at his watch. "They'll be here in five minutes."

"How do you figure that?"

"I took the liberty of asking Jason first. You brought him up to do the right thing."

"And if I hadn't agreed to your plan?"

"His friends would come over, do whatever pre-teen boys do, and leave."

"What they do is eat. I don't have a thing."

"Back seat of my car." He stood. "You can help so I'm gone before they start arriving."

Dana followed her ex-partner to his car and lugged two full shopping bags back into the house as he drove away. Detective Thompson was nothing if not thorough.

As soon as Dana finished arranging the snacks on the kitchen table, she heard the front door. "Here we go."

Jason brought his friends into the kitchen. "Hey, Mom."

"Dude." Dana saved the endearments for when she wouldn't embarrass him in front of his friends. "Guys."

The four boys surrounded the table and grabbed handfuls of whatever was closest.

"So Mrs. C, you miss bagging the bad guys?" Mikey chomped away on pretzels.

"Most people who commit crimes aren't bad. They simply made a bad decision that they usually regret just a second too late."

Brad sniffed. "So why did you carry a gun?"

"To help people remember not to make another bad decision. Once someone resists arrest, that's when the situation goes downhill fast."

Ron reached for a bowl on the other side of the table. "Cuff-and-stuff."

"Why don't you guys take the snacks outside and then come in when you're thirsty."

Two seconds later, the table was empty except for some crumbs which Dana swept into her hand and dumped in the sink.

Jason was the first to return. "Hey Mom, you never buy all that stuff."

"Thank your friend in the police department."

"Detective Thompson is so cool."

Dana would have chosen different words to describe him. "Do you know who vandalized the Lobster Shack?"

Jason shook his head. "I wasn't with them. I think they're scared."

"I'll be subtle."

"I know, Mom. Thanks." Jason left with his milk and a wave.

Dana sat at the table. Just how easy did she play this? Detective Thompson needed quick results. The Lobster Shack was a department favorite.

Mikey entered the room, still chewing. He pantomimed a drink.

Dana ran down the choices until he raised a thumb. "So I hear there was a problem at the Shack."

Mikey swallowed. "I heard that."

"Were you there?"

"I wasn't inside."

"Who was?" Dana took her time pouring his drink.

"It was dark."

"Come on, Mikey. This is me. One person made a bad decision and I can't help a ghost."

"I'm not going to rat on anybody."

"Nobody vandalizes for no reason. A friend is crying out for help. Are you going to dial 911 to bring in the professionals or just sit there and watch your friend suffer?"

"I gotta get back."

"Here's your drink."

Brad wasn't thirsty. All he wanted was a napkin, which meant Dana didn't have much time. "One napkin, coming up. I heard about the Shack."

Ron wiped his hands. "Hard to believe that could happen."

"Someone is very, very angry. One of your friends is still fighting a demon alone."

"Thanks for the napkin." Brad placed the crumpled ball in the trash before leaving.

Ron didn't seem to know why he'd come into the kitchen, shifting from foot to foot and saying nothing.

"What I'd like to hear is someone stepping forward to take responsibility or to do his friend a favor by helping me help him."

"I thought cops were in the cuff-and-stuff business. I don't see how that's going to help him."

"I quit, remember?"

Ron was there and then he wasn't.

Jason came in five minutes later while Dana reviewed the contents of the refrigerator. "Somewhere in here is dinner."

"Did you crack the case?"

"I'm going to ask you to send in one of your friends so start thinking of a good reason."

"Could he come back for more snacks?"

"Good idea. There's more in the bag under the table." Dana told Jason who she wanted to see and sent her son on his mission.

Do you know whom Dana suspects?

Brad. Of the three boys, he was the only one who didn't focus on somebody else. That was because he was the one responsible, just as he confessed when Dana pointed this out.