Booktree.ng_Forgotten-Witness

sherbet, emblazoned with cheap silkscreen in a riot of island
flora. Josie had seen the same shirt in a freezing hotel room in
Washington D.C. But this one was newer and there was a part
of the design Josie had not seen before. Woven into the design
was one word: Keoloko.
She was in the right place.
***
To the casual observer, Officer Morgan was a pretty simple
man. He got a haircut every six weeks, he shined his shoes
every night, he and the missus messed around on Saturdays
and sometimes they didn’t even wait for the sun to go down.
He had planned for his retirement and had a nice nest egg, not
to mention the pension that twenty years as a government cop
earned him. He had a son in Alaska and they were on good but
not close terms. He played cards with a group of guys who he
called his brothers. It would seem Morgan was living the
dream.
To anyone who knew him well, and pretty much that was
limited to his wife who was a saint, Officer Morgan was not a
simple man. He often thought deep thoughts. He wondered
about life, death, right, and wrong. What he was wondering
about as he sat behind his desk was the envelope that held the
possessions of one Ian Francis. Deceased. Dead as a doornail.
Pitiful in his last moments of life and probably a long time
before that. There had been something about the guy that just
sort of made Morgan’s heart grow big and sad. Ian Francis had
not been your everyday, run-of-the-mill nutcase.
“No, Siree”, Morgan thought as he poked at the stuff with
his finger.
Actually, it wasn’t all the stuff in the envelope he had
collected the night Ian Francis died that intrigued Morgan, it
was the guy’s cell phone. He had found it in the bushes a
couple feet from the body, collected it, and forgotten about it