Ellery Queen’s Mystery Magazine. Vol. 116, Nos. 3 & 4. Whole Nos. 709 & 710, September/October 2000

“Yeah, I guess.” Sean had the faint feeling that he was having two conversations, in two languages, ones that he knew just well enough to misunderstand with confidence. He decided not to speak but just listen carefully.

Matt turned toward Hitchens. “I’m his brother. He told you that we found you together. Let me make sure I understand the deal. You’ll give us a thousand dollars each. Cash money, that’s right?”

Hitchens nodded, “Yeah.”

“In exchange we just take this Notice of Judgment and refile it as unserved, that’s it, even though it is for you?”

“That’s right.”

“No false affidavits, and you don’t want us to destroy the paper, just refile it.”

“Yeah, that’s the beauty of it for you guys. No crime’s been committed. You walk away with the money, no risk of having it confiscated, no risk of jail, painless.”

“Okay. You have the money here?”

“No. I can get it easy enough. Meet you back here in, say, an hour, how’s that?”

“Tell you what, Mr. Hitchens. As a good-faith gesture, how about you give us whatever cash you’ve got in the office. That way we know you’re serious about this, and when we take it, you know we’re serious about our part. We’re in this together.”

“Good point. Let me see what I’ve got.” He reached into the bottom left drawer of the desk and pulled out a metal box. He spun the combination lock, opened the lid, and took out a wad of bills.

He began to thumb the edges back, counting out loud, stopping at four hundred and eighty-three. “That good enough for you boys?”

“That’s fine,” Matt said. He stuffed the phone back in his pocket, took the money, and counted out half for his brother. “We’ll see you in an hour.”

“Nice doing business with you boys.”

“Pleasure’s all ours, Mr. Hitchens.”

Matt led the way out the front door towards the car. Sean hurried to catch up. “What the hell was that all about, Matt? We’re in the shit now. We took the money.”

“Keep walking, Sean, and don’t say anything else. We’ll talk in the car.”

Matt opened the car door and walked around to let himself in. In the car, he pulled the phone out of his pocket and spoke into the mouthpiece. “Did you get all that?”

“Every word. A warrant’s been issued and a car should be there in ten minutes. You need to come straight down to the station and fill out a statement. He’ll be booked and jailed.”

“Great. We’ll stay here until the car arrives, then we’ll be straight over.”

Matt pushed the Off button.

“What did we just do?”

“We did ‘better,’ is what we did. Remember what Joe Anthony told us about serving him and still not getting a penny. I was sitting in the car and I said to myself, why am I letting a criminal tell me what is and what is not a crime? I called the police. His offering us money to not do our duty is a crime. It’s corruption of an agent. Even if we aren’t officers of the court, even if we don’t commit a fraud. The officer said he could get a warrant and a car out here right away if a crime was committed in his presence. So I said, what if you hear it? He said, that’s enough.

“I told him to call me on both fines. First one, then the other. When I answered the first call in the office, all I did was switch to the other line to disconnect him. That line was open and they heard everything. That’s why I was waving the phone around. It was a microphone. Hitchens couldn’t know that we have a two- line phone — when I said goodbye and pushed a button he assumed I’d turned the phone off. I just moved my hand up to cover the lights.”

Matt dialed Joe Anthony’s office as the police cruiser pulled up next to them. “Mr. Anthony. This is Matt Ellis of Short Fuse Process Service. I have good news for you and your client. Not only did we find Mr. Hitchens, but we served him, and he’s also being arrested, as we speak, for corruption of an agent. He offered us a thousand dollars each not to serve him. He’ll be going straight to jail and I’d think that should be enough with our affidavits for you to get that ABJ you wanted.”

“Christmas in August. Great work, guys. Come by as soon as you can. I’d like you to give my client the news directly. You just changed her life and her kids’.”

The police were walking Hitchens out to the cruiser. Sean got out of the car and approached as they were getting ready to tuck him inside.

“Burle Hitchens, this is a Notice of Judgment against you served in the county of Fairfax on behalf of Chelsea Lyn Dougan.” As Hitchens’s hands were cuffed behind him, Sean tucked the papers in his front shirt pocket, arranging them as neatly as a foulard. The officer opened the door and guided Hitchens into the backseat.

“You were right, Mr. Hitchens. This was a win-win situation. Only there were three sides to it, not two.”

Round Trip by Rail by Gwen Davenport