“They big,” said Yamamoto, “but not the biggest. My Uncle Harry’s a realtor. Lemme see what he knows.”
Yamamoto used one phone. Chan called headquarters on another. The operator connected him with Detective Walter Anderson.
Anderson informed Chan that the realtor’s name was indeed Kazuo Takahashi.
“And you’re certain it’s suicide,” said Chan.
“Single shot. Right temple. Powder burns. Paraffin test shows gunpowder residue on his hand.”
“Was there a note?”
“Yeah. Sorry for what he’d done. Yada yada yada. We found other documents. Handwriting looks genuine.”
Chan explained what he and Yamamoto were working on. “Walt, since it appears we’re already on top of this whole situation, Vic and I’ll handle it.”
Chan hung up, then waited for Yamamoto. All along the walls of the reception area were photos of the salespeople. Chan stopped in front of Kazuo Takahashi’s picture. He looked into Takahashi’s smiling eyes, imagined him putting a gun to his head, pulling the trigger. That point of no return.Then Chan pictured someone placing a gun in Takahashi’s hand and pulling the trigger with him. There’d be a struggle. Could a single strong person restrain Takahashi? Would it be two or more people holding him down?
* * * * *
Aloha #WriterFriday, I hope you’re ready for the weekend. Today’s #WritingPrompt is
Use it to inspire a piece of writing, and then post that piece as a comment below. I would love to read it : )