The Hiding Place

The Hiding Place

“Yeah, I remember. How could I forget my best friend? You’re reopening his case?” Arnold Ellis said to the policeman at his door.

“We’ve started a new cold case unit,” explained the officer whose tag read Cassington.

Arnold Ellis sighed as he pulled his wallet out of his back pocket just before he sat down.

“I still have it.”

“What?” asked Cassington as his eyes brightened noticeably.

“The note he left me in my locker.”

“Can I see it?”

“I thought you’d want to, but nobody at the time did.”

“Why not?”

“Said it wasn’t relevant. They were convinced he’d killed himself. Even though they didn’t have his body.”

Cassington accepted the much folded and grey tinged square of paper Arnold took from his wallet with gloved hands. Carefully, he opened it.

“Arno:

Don’t worry about me, bud. I know just what to do. I hid where nobody will find me

See you when I can,

Bobo”

“Did he ever show?”

Arnold shook his head sadly.

“Do you have any idea what place he was talking about?”

“I told anybody who asked, all the ones I knew about. They didn’t find him at any of those...”

“Why the hesitation?”

“We found an old cemetery when we were exploring. There was a crypt there that we managed to open. We went in. There wasn’t even a coffin in it, just this marble bench at the back.”

“Does it have an address?”

Arnold shook his head but sketched him a map.

A somber Cassington came to see Arnold, who took one look at his face and broke down.

“We had to manhandle the door open, but he was there. Like he was asleep, until we found the bullet rattling around in his skull.”

“The Mob found him!” Arnold sobbed.