Who Killed Cock Robin ? (Ch 2)

When we last saw our hero, DOJ ace investigator Dick Holder, he was on the Orient Express in Lebanon investigating the death of a mysterious Lebanese Christian man named Pierre and his pet bird, Cock Robin. Dick Holder's instincts (not to mention a few key witnesses) told him that the killings had been carried out by two Syrians who had jumped the train after fleeing from the victim's cabin with a gun.

However, Dick Holder was accompanied on this mission by University of Tennessee at Chattanooga Professor Mortimer Johnson, who was insisting that somehow, the Israelis and the Mossad were behind it. It was all very confusing.

When the train arrived at Beirut, Dick Holder and Johnson were met by two Lebanese police detectives who told them that the two Syrians had been arrested trying to cross the border into Syria. The murder weapon was recovered and ballistics matched the gun that killed Pierre. The men  had identified themselves as Syrian government agents and under "intense" questioning had admitted to the murder. As they were being driven to police hqs, Dick Holder felt relieved and vindicated. Johnson sat in the car silently sulking.

One of the Lebanese cops nudged Dick Holder in the side and whispered, " Who's the long-haired hippie freak? He doesn't look like a cop."

"He isn't, " replied Dick Holder. "He's a professor from some university in Bullsnuts, Tennessee. They sent him here as some sort of expert. I didn't ask for him."

"Oh."

Dick Holder had just two questions-in no particular order: Why had the men killed Pierre and why had they killed Cock Robin?

Upon arrival at police hqs, Dick Holder and Johnson were taken into a conference room where their Lebanese colleagues laid out the files including the men's confessions.

"But why?" asked Dick Holder.

One of the Lebanese cops lit a cigarette, took a long draw and answered, "As to Pierre, they don't know. It was just orders from their boss in Damascus. As for the bird, simple. While they were taking care of Pierre, the bird flew out of his cage and bit one of the attackers on the arm."

"It all makes perfect sense," said Dick Holder. "But so much for the hate crime angle."

"I still say it was the Israelis," piped in Johnson still holding onto his guitar case.

"Based on what, may I ask?" said one of the Lebanese cops incredulous.

"They are behind everything," answered Johnson removing his goofy hat and tying the long strands of his hair into a pony-tail.

"But they have no motive. We have all the evidence, the witnesses, the murder weapon, the confessions."

"Precisely," answered Johnson with a dopey know-it-all grin on his face. "We are dealing with the Mossad here. I suggest you go back and talk to that French-Israeli guy with the same first name."

Exasperated, the other Lebanese stood and asked, "And just what makes you an expert in this part of the world, Sonny?"

"You see this guitar? I've played this guitar all over the Middle East."

"Really? You know, we don't give much of a sh-- about music in these parts. I'll bet you don't even know Arabic."

Johnson smirked. "Actually, I know Arabic, Hebrew, French, German, Spanish, Portuguese, Italian, Dutch, Swedish, and Icelandic-in addition to English, of course."

The Lebanese cops looked at Dick Holder, who merely shrugged.

"Maybe you should go back to that university in Tennessee and let us worry about Israel," chimed in one of the cops.

Suddenly, Johnson jumped out of his chair, his face red with rage.

"Fu-- Israel!" he screamed. "Fu-- Cock Robin! Fu-- Pierre! And fu-- all of you! These files are sh--! Israel is behind this, I tell you!"

Staring back at Johnson, one of the cops, said, "Yeah yeah. We get it. You're anti-Israel. So fu---n-' what?"

With that, Johnson picked up his guitar and smashed it against the wall.

"If you call me anti-Israel again, you're going to have a big problem."

The cop took a long drag from his cigarette, looked at his partner and smiled.

"Oh yeah?"

The next day.

Dick Holder boarded his plane back to Washington, found his seat and buckled his seat belt. An American man took the seat next to him and started a casual conversation. He introduced himself as a second secretary at the American embassy in Beirut.

"Traveling alone?" the man asked Dick Holder.

"Yes. All by myself," Dick Holder replied smiling.

Meanwhile back at the Beirut jail, the two Syrian guys were being led back to their cell by a jailer after their latest round of questioning. As they entered their cell, they saw that there was a newcomer laying on one of the bunks.

"One of the Syrians looked at the stranger in the cell then turned to his partner and asked:

"Who's the long-haired hippie freak?"