Page 1 of Justice Delayed

ChapterOne

“What time did the alleged robber come into your store, Mr. Patel?”Northern Virginia Heraldreporter Brogan Gilmore asked. Mid-August in the metropolitan Washington, DC, area meant slow news due to the congressional recess, thus an attempted robbery at a local convenience store took top priority.

“Excuse me.” Vihaan Patel, owner of the Kwikie Mart at the corner of Main Street and Chain Bridge Road in Fairfax, Virginia, rang up a customer purchasing a pack of cigarettes and beef jerky, then waited until the customer left before answering. “It was one-thirty in the morning. Very late.”

Standing on the other side of the counter, Brogan jotted down the details in his notebook. “And you had two other robberies within the last two weeks?”

“That’s right.” Mr. Patel clenched his fists. “Thosebadamaashyoung men—”

“Badamaash?” Brogan interjected.

“Hooligans.” Mr. Patel’s lip curled, leaving Brogan no doubt that hooligans was probably a more civilized translation. “They come in thinking they can just take my hard-earned money. Last Monday and Friday, different men, come in late at night and take what isn’t theirs.”

“How much was taken in the two previous robberies?”

“Three hundred on Monday, fifteen hundred on Friday. Friday was very busy night. Special lottery promotion brought in lots of people, who thought they would be lucky. Big jackpot.” A shadow crossed the lines of his expressive face. “Both times, robbers came when I opened safe to remove cash for bank deposit. Usually, no one here to open safe.”

A familiar gut feeling coursed through Brogan’s body. Maybe these robberies weren’t so random after all. This was looking more like an inside job. “Do you open the safe to ready the deposit at the same time each night?”

Mr. Patel shook his head. “That would be foolish. I vary times each day. Sometimes right before bank opens. Sometimes mid-afternoon. Sometimes during the evening. When bank not open, I take deposit bag home with me. The Monday robbery was at ten in morning. The Friday one at nine in evening.”

Brogan tapped his pen against the notebook. “Who worked on Monday?”

The door’s bell announced more customers. A group of teenagers poured in, their raucous laughter filling the small store.

Mr. Patel craned his neck to keep an eye on the teens. “My son, Veer, working both times. He filling in for worker who called in sick.”

The tingle increased. “Is that spelled V-E-E-R?”

“Yes.” Mr. Patel greeted one of the teens, who set down a large slushie and a giant candy bar.

Brogan waited while the owner rang up the group’s remaining purchases. It could be a coincidence that Mr. Patel’s son had been working during the two robberies. Still, at the risk of offending the man, Brogan had to follow up. “Was Veer working last night?”

“He was. He usually works overnight shifts on weekend to let me spend time at home with my wife.”

Definitely something there, but Brogan let the subject of Veer Patel drop for now. “But you were here last night. Why was that?”

Mr. Patel shrugged. “I was waiting until jackpot numbers were called at midnight. People buy lottery tickets in cash.”

“Did you see the robber?”

“Yes, but he wore werewolf mask.”

“Like a Halloween mask?”

“Exactly. Other two robbers had similar masks. The werewolf robber much shorter with lighter skin on his arms. His hand holding gun shook.”

Brogan, writing furiously, gestured for him to continue.

“Then she threw soda bottle. Knocked him in head.” Mr. Patel’s grin stretched wider.

Rather than interrupt with questions as to who “she” was, Brogan let Mr. Patel finish his story.

“Miss Mel’s such a little thing. I forgot she was here. She grab soda bottle and,wham!Clipped masked man in side of head.”

Brogan finished jotting down Mr. Patel’s quote, then looked up. “Who is Miss Mel? Did she knock the alleged robber out?”

“No, but Miss Mel scared him. Robber ran out without money.” Mr. Patel rang up another customer. “I want to give her bonus for quick thinking.”

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