Flash Paper

An unassuming man shuffled to the police counter. "Hello, I'm Frank Miller, and I'm about to murder Myles Teller."

"You what?" Officer Tate, already annoyed he pulled desk duty on Halloween, said without lifting his gaze from his paperwork.

"My name is Frank Miller, and I'm about to murder Myles Teller."

"Ok, great, buddy. Take a seat, and someone will take your statement." Tate grumbled.

"It will happen precisely at 8:47 pm," Frank added.

"Hey Granger, we've got a guy here that says he's going to kill a guy in 6-minutes. Can you get his statement?"

Officer Granger was as unenthused as everyone else. "I live for paperwork." He shot a look down at the name on the paper before calling out, "Frank Miller?" Frank awkwardly rose his hand like a child in school before he stood. "This way, Mr. Miller."

Granger flopped back into his chair as Frank sat stiffly across from him. "I apologize for intruding on your evening." Frank began.

"My evening? It sounds like you should be apologizing to Mr. Teller." Granger joked.

"No, he deserves his fate." There was no humor in Frank's voice.

"Ok, so tell me about how you're going to kill a man in 2-minutes while you're sitting in front of me." Granger sat back expectant of the tall tale he was about to be told.

"Gunshot to the head." Frank offered.

"And how are you going to shoot him from that chair?"

"With paper, paper has higher morals than men."

Granger rolled his eyes at the riddle. "Alright, why would you want to kill this Teller guy?"

"Mr. Teller is a bad man. He's tricked many honest families. He sealed his fate."

There was a rustle at the front desk before Tate bustled through the smattering of desks and askew chairs. "Granger." Tate's tone pulled Granger from his chair with alarm.

"What?" Granger demanded.

"It's this guy. We just got a call from a Teller residence. The wife says her husband, Myles, was shot." Tate couldn't believe the words he was saying.

"You've got to be kidding me." Granger griped. "Watch him."

Granger arrived at the crime scene to find Myles Tate dead at his extravagant desk with a single shot to the temple while the fiery smell of the gun hung in the air. Nothing seemed amiss of suicide except for the confession of Frank Miller and his riddle about paper. The only paper on the desk was an envelope, warped as though it had dried from rain.

Granger returned to the station to face a killer. His eyes narrowed as he inspected Frank. "Suicide." Frank's face remained placid. "But why would he kill himself?"

"Sounds like a man without options," Frank spoke passively.

"But why?" Granger knew he was staring at a guilty man with an ironclad alibi.

"Paper has higher morals than men." For the first time, an evil smile spread across Frank's face as he walked out the front door of the precinct, a free man.