"Okay," Trouble said walking into Holly's cubicle at LEP Police Plaza.
Holly held up a finger telling him to wait a minute. She focused her attention back her phone conversation. "Thank you," she said, "And once again my condolences for your loss." She hung up the phone and turned to Trouble. "Yes?"
"Foaly just told me only thing his lab found that had peanut oil in it was the cake."
"Makes sense considering the wife just told me only thing that was not home made was the cake, and gave me an address for the bakery."
"Let's go. I'll drive."
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The bell above the door rang as Holly and Trouble walked into a bakery on 98th street. A gnome looked up and smiled. He walked over to the counter wiping the flour off his hands. "Good, morning. Would you like a cookie?" he asked motioning to a basket on his desk with a sign taped to it that said 'free'. "Just came outta the oven twenty minutes ago."
Holly flashed her badge while reaching for a chocolate chip cookie.
"The cake for Lieutenant Rollin Covena," Trouble started. He stopped abruptly when the loud clatter of metal being dropped echoed through the bakery. "I've got him." Trouble ran through the kitchen and out the back door after the fairy who took off running at the mention of Rollin Covena's cake.
Holly walked out the front door and saw an elf running through an alley in an attempt to get back to the main street in front of the shop. She waited for him to get closer to her, and then grabbed his arm. She twisted it behind his back causing a cringe of pain. "Corporal Holly Short, LEP, we have a few questions for you," She said.
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Trouble took a seat across from the elf whose name they had learned was Osten Zeddon. "So, I'm assuming you heard about Lieutenant Covena's death," Trouble started, "And considering the fact that you ran from us I will assume you know his death was no accident."
"You think I killed him?" Osten asked in disbelief.
"Someone spiked his birthday cake, and assuming you were the elf who baked it."
"That doesn't mean I did it, everyone in that bakery woulda had access."
Trouble chuckled, "You know what the strange thing is? I honestly don't believe you killed him. And do you know why? It's because you're not smart enough. Someone knew he was deathly allergic to peanut oil, and that no one else in his family was. It's the perfect way to dispatch of one person without ever setting foot at the crime scene. And I just don't think you're smart enough to come up with that, no offense. Though, I just can't get over the fact that you ran from us. Why would you do that?"
"It's your first instinct if you're from where I'm from."
"It's not that. Let's start with you didn't at all grow up in a bad part of town. It wouldn't be your first instinct, and even if it was, you did not run at the sight of us. You didn't run when you saw our badge. No, you ran at the mention of Rollin Covena's cake. But I stand by my earlier assumption that you're not smart enough to come up with this on your own. Which leaves only one logical assumption: someone paid you to do it.
"Now you can confess and tell me who paid you, and I might let you off easy. Or you could keep your mouth shut and I stick you in holding till I have enough to charge you with conspiracy."
"Okay, so I got a couple thousand for slipping some peanut oil in my batter. Don't know who it is though. Only met him once. He was in sunglasses and a dark hoodie." Osten said.
Trouble sighed. This was not helpful. What did he know now that he wasn't at least 98% sure of before this interrogation? Nothing, the answer was as simple as that.
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Deon Chanson had been handed another high profile body for an autopsy. A respected judge by the name of Zack Nindovo had died in what appeared to be a drive by shooting. The fact that no one else had been injured in the shooting led Chanson to believe that Zack Nindovo had been the target.
Chanson had a strange feeling that this body and Lieutenant Covena's murder were linked. There was a lack of similarities between the two cases, but the fact that both of these people showed up dead within 24 hours of each other was too big a coincidence, considering that Covena's biggest case and Nindovo's biggest trial were one in the same.
Which of course meant there were other people most likely on this hit list, but Root did not like theories. Root would not buy into this without some real evidence. Chanson reached for the phone and dialed Holly's desk number. "This is Chanson grab Kelp and meet me down here, I've got another body for you."