Mouse Trap: Another Clarice Starling case

The diner stopover on the route to Little Rock was a simple rectangle structure converted into seating for twelve with its four tables and the long counter. It was managed by an old immigrant who came in the sixties with enough funds to buy the forty over years establishment. He had added on a gas pump for the weary travelers or truckers who pulled over for their rest. Stravos was his name, built one size too small for his own kins but he had a quick hand in frying burgers and fries. He stood at five feet with a slim look from his teen days, but he lost most of his top hair to the hot sun. His place was opened eighteen hours with his native wife delivered on a family understanding that he would provide for her. Her name was Maria but in the new land, she called herself Mary for the new person. Unlike Stravos, Mary was built with the structure of the mare made to plough the farm lands. Like her new name, Mary wore denims and blouse complete with trainers with the cleavage well defined. Stravos bear with it as long as she brought in the customers when she leaned over to serve the food. They had a boy who helped out at the gas station for food and lodging at the stopover. His name was Peter, and no one cares on his origin as long as he worked hard.

That morning, I had arrived just before dusk and left the car with the boy to filled up. I told him to check the radiator and oil while I settle for a good meal at the next door stopover. I walked up to the diner stopover but my eyes was on the the two cars parked there. One was a blue sedan and the other was a rundown sporters with more mileage done than the whore I met last month. I reached for the door knob to opened it and stepped into Star Gas and Cafe. The smell of the burning cooking oil whiff past my nostril as I stepped in. I saw the long counter was unoccupied while one of the tables was taken up by the two men in suits; poor cutting and probably off the shelf buys. One was older with his frowned face buried on some reports he was reading in his hands. The other was younger and looking bore with his eyes fixed towards the long stretched road to real civilization. They were having coffee and some slices of pastries as only a small part of it was left on the plates.

"Welcome to the SGC. It ain't no Star Gate Center, but we served good food and drinks." That was the lady introducing the place to me. When she mentioned Star Gate, she had reminded me of the TV series sometime back. "Have a meal while you rest your soul."

I took her offer and walked to end of the long counter. I pulled myself up the long stool while the menu was handed to me. I liked the spot as it allowed me to see the whole place including the doorway. The owner strolled up to me and offered his choices but I declined.

"Coffee and a slice of the apple pie, please." I made my order which disappointed him. He was pushing for me to try his roast beef served on the pita with his own home sauce. He was to tell me more when the door opened to admit in the new customer.

"Hello, Deputy. You are here for your coffee?" The Deputy was a young man still having his freckles on the cheeks. He was dressed like most officers of the law; beige shirt with the single stripe long pants and shiny leather shoes. His gun was the Beretta issued to the officers in the county, alongside his cuffs and extra bullets. Like all of them who patrolled the long roads, they have on the leather gloves and dark shades for the Top Gun impression.

"Thank you, Mary. I was on my way back to town." The Deputy scoured the place for anyone he ought to speak to and then decided he would sit by himself at the table furthest from the men in the suits. Mary had her coffee served and then sat herself across the Deputy while looking through her memo of orders. I was to start on the slice of pie when the door opened again. This time it admitted in the young couple; probably college kids on a drive to the wild with their punched up sporters. The boy was dressed in a loose unbuttoned shirt and jeans while the girl was in her exercise bra and dukes shorts.

"Wowee! That was worth the sands and pebbles." The girl smoothe out her hair of the pickup from the ground after their rumble on the dry acrid ground. She then saw me looking and smiled back at me. The boy was rude with his middle finger towards me. I was not surprised that the Deputy spoke up before I did.

"You there." The Deputy stood up. "I need to see your ID."

The young couple looked at the officer and groaned their disappointment. The boy approached the Deputy, and presented his argument.

"All I did was showed him what I did back there." The boy motioned the Deputy to my direction. "Ain't no law to say I can't do that?"

"Your ID please?" The Deputy replied coldly while his right hand was at his gun. A typical stance of a young and eager officer to showed his training out here.

"Officer, no harm done. Let them be." I intervened but was given the lashing by the Deputy.

"Ma'am, I am doing my job. There been some killings lately on the roads, and I intend to checked them all. That includes you." Now the Deputy was showing his influence of the badge. "Now show me your ID."

The boy reached into his back pocket and pulled out his wallet. He flipped it to show the Deputy the ID, while the girl said she left her bag in the car. The Deputy asked her to get it while he checked the boy's. It was then the two business suit men also got up to leave but the Deputy stopped them.

"You two. Hand over your ID too." Deputy looked at them. Then he looked at me. "I want yours too, mister."

The girl had stepped back with her bag which she extracted her ID. Peter was behind her to hand over my car keys. They were all in there then.

The Deputy standing at the table next to my seat while Mary was still seated looking at the young girl standing just at the table behind her. The boy had joined her with his arms on her back while they leaned against the counter. The two business suit men had stood by the third table with their hands inside the jacket; probably reaching for their wallets. I stood up from my seat and stepped behind it so that I could see Stravos who had stood behind the counter. I had thrown my wallet onto the table for the Deputy. He was offended by my act but he did not speak. He took up mine and flipped it opened.

The FBI badge was well shined by myself every week and it held up the attention of everyone.

"Thank you for coming here, ladies and gentlemen." I looked to each and everyone of them. "Please do not leave. There are sharpshooters out there with a keen eye."

It was then the cars came screeching in; blue sedans with flashing lights on the top bonnet. Officers of the Federal Law Enforcement stepped out and took position with drawn guns.

"My name is Clarice Starling. I am a FBI Special Agent. I welcomed you to the SGC." I looked to the young couple. "Bonnie and Clyde, you called yourself that with your trail of murders and robbery. You could not resist the tip off of an arrested bank robber who told you on his hidden stash."

"Micheal and Sonny Corleone, another namesake. Don't you guys get tired of killing for others. I set the meeting here with the half a million in your bank account. The contact was me and the payout was your arrests."

"Deputy Sam 'Freckled Face' Westin. You left us a trail of rape and murder from three states. You were a failure at the Academy but you could not resist the role play. What was it that tempt you? The uniform or the young girls? Soon you would be doing pole dancing behind bars for some favors. We left words with them of your anal-zing trademarks."

"Peter, my good attendant. Five years on the run and you ended up here. I wondered why, but then I had it figured out. Family ties run deep. Uncle Stravos needed a young man to do the foul deeds when his had long died from drugs. When he could not performed, he likes to see the performance. So your threesome with Aunt Maria on those lonely men who never knew that the climax was the strangulation move. Stravos had one too many in his hey days at Europe and you were to be his apprentice. But we don't export our skills overseas."

By then, the real officers have swarmed in with their guns leveled at the fugitives. It was the Deputy who asked me the silly question.

"How did you know I was to be here?"

"Your modus was simple. Stayed in town for two months while doing the odd drives with the stolen car. We caught onto you then, but we kept the heat off. The Sheriff was cooperative to pulled all patrols along the stretch for you. Your affinity for stopover got us thinking. The Stravos had been under scrutiny for over a month before you turned up. We placed the sting when you stopped here twice last week. The call you heard on the patrol cars on this stretch was to get you off to here."

"I called in the Corleone to do the so called contact here. A million was a lot of money with good exposure. Then we found the pair was in the state too, so we hooked up a informer to spill the beans on the stash. Told them that the clue was in the five o'clock sun at this GPS. We held them off from here with constant survelliance and then this afternoon we took a long cat nap. They fled into the trap."

"Deputy Sam Westin, in between the lessons on pole dancing, try to read understand variation in mode counts for extra points. You may find that useful because you are hole short to used on."