My short story that lost
This is a short story I entered in a Writer’s Digest contest. They assigned this premise: a cop is assigned to a case involving a series of arsons at Krispie Creme shops. The word count was 750 or less.
I didn’t win. However, I did lose to someone who doesn’t know desert from dessert.
Mine is below. Enjoy!
The Red Herring Cruller
8 months on the force, and Hank’s only case to date has been finding the owner of a stray cat. Detective Stevens found the tabby wandering the station. Hank named the cat Maxwell. And for three weeks, Hank knocked on doors and posted fliers, but all he had to show for it was a few scratches and a sunburn. Hank became attached to kitten, but there was work to be done.
Out of ideas, Hank brought the cat to a local shelter to check the bulletin board. A female volunteer recognized Maxwell. She helped Detective Stevens pick him out a few weeks ago. He told her the cat was for his niece.
The other detectives had a good laugh at Hank. But today, Hank’s moment has arrived. This new case is no stray cat chase.
Hank gets a sweaty grip on his cruiser’s steering wheel and turns his walkie volume all the way up. Adrenaline crashes in the pit of his stomach like so many tidal waves. His foot slams the gas. Hank hasn’t been this thrilled since Lieutenant Marsh trusted him to pick up his suit at the cleaners.
This is big. It’s national. Hank likes the way that sounds. He can finally show them what he’s got. Arson at the Krispie Kreme on 309. What low-life would deface such a beloved American institution?
Hank blows the red light and squeals into Quaker Valley Shopping Center. It looks like he beat the fire trucks to the scene. He’s prepared to take the necessary steps to serve and protect at any cost. He didn’t get all those Scouts badges in fire safety for nothing.
He bursts onto the scene. But Hank doesn’t smell the embers of injustice – just coffee and crullers. Hank excuses his abrupt entry and waits in line. Maybe the cashier knows something.
“Um, I’ve been here all day. There was no fire.”
Hank radios back to the station, but his walkie isn’t working. The manager offers Hank their phone and a complimentary doughnut. Chomping into a chocolate glazed, Hank calls Detective Stevens.
“Hank, I smell a conspiracy. I’ll look into it. Since you’re there, pick us up a mixed dozen. Coffees, too.”
Later, Hank paces his apartment and calls his mom to tell her the news. Sure it was a false start, but they’re giving him a chance. It’s still a cause for celebration. Fancy Feast for Maxwell. London Broil for Hank. Tonight, they dine like kings.
The next morning, Stevens says they have another arson case – the Krispie Kreme on Hamilton Boulevard. Hank volunteers first. He’s not letting them down again. Peeling out, he careens over the curb, losing a hubcap. No time to lose.
Hank swings open the door to the shop. Some cops are already inside. How did they arrive on the scene first? They’re not getting this case. Not a chance.
Maybe Hank is a little pushy with the other cops, but do they have to swear at him? There are ladies present. Claudia, the cashier, offers him an apple fritter on the house. Hank borrows their phone to call Stevens. He really needs to fix his walkie.
“We’re about to crack this case wide open. They WANT us to give up. Don’t you get it?” Hank never thought of it that way. Claudia packs up the mixed dozen and Hank heads to HQ.
Day 6 in hot pursuit of the Krispie Kreme arsonist, and Hank rushes to the scene. Persistence is key. The perp is waiting for them to get sloppy. If Hank has to investigate this every day for a decade, that’s what he’ll do.
“Let me guess – you’re looking for a fire.” At last – an actual crime scene. Wait until Stevens finds out.
The manager stops Hank just as he steps inside the shop. “We know your game, Hank. You hit every store in the city. No more free doughnuts. No more phone. Is that walkie even real?”
Everything became clear to Hank. It was just another stray cat chase. And isn’t that exactly what a criminal mastermind would want him to think? Hank just has to throw a wrench in the perp’s devious plan.
Outside in the Krispie Kreme’s back parking lot, Hank notices a homeless man scavenging for day-old pastry.
“Hey buddy, wanna make a few bucks?” With 5 dollars, a pack of matches and the best idea he’s ever had, Hank will get them some arson evidence. Evidence indeed.
“This one’s for you, Maxwell.”
