Murder by Suicide

Flash Fiction 300 words

‘You arrested somebody for the Herbert Vine murder,’ Patrick Ryan said
         Tom Shaw eyed the journalist across the table. ‘We did.’
         ‘Who’d you pin it on?’
         ‘I thought we were friends,’ Shaw said, lifting his pint. ‘It sound like you’re trying to bait me.’
         Ryan smiled. ‘Old habits die hard.’
         ‘A lot of work went into that arrest.’
         ‘So, who’d you get for it?’
         ‘I’m not going to talk about it. And especially not to you.’ Shaw finished his drink. ‘Your round.’
         Ryan pushed his seat back and went to the bar. Shaw wasn’t sure he entirely trusted the journalist. But that was fine. It was nice to have a drink with somebody who wasn’t job.
         Ryan came back and set a fresh pint before Shaw.
‘How’s Hannah?’
         ‘How do you make everything sound like you’re digging for information?’
         ‘Maybe I am. We can go back to the dead MP, if you’d prefer.’
         Shaw didn’t respond.
         ‘Can I tell you what I think? You don’t have to say a word.’
         ‘Have you taken something? Do you need to see a doctor?’
         ‘The way I hear it, Vine did write the suicide note. That’s why everyone believed he killed himself. But somebody—’ he tilted his glass towards Shaw ‘—figured out he couldn’t have hanged himself, that he must’ve been lifted with the noose already around his neck.’
         Shaw looked at Ryan evenly, but he could feel the tension in his jaw. He said nothing.
         ‘So, from there I imagine it’d be a case of figuring out who had the most to gain. And if my thinking is right, that’d be the ex-wife.’
         Shaw felt his eye twitch.
         Ryan laughed. ‘It’s all right, you don’t have to say a word.’
         ‘Who told you?’
         ‘Don’t worry, Tom—a journalist never reveals his sources.’