“The forensic lab replied with the results of the tests for occult blood on Samir"s cane. They had Doc Hubert"s blood type and DNA sample.”
Constable Tom frowned. “Nothing matched.”
“Looks like we got the wrong guy.”
“The sticky stuff was tar,” Sergeant Ross continued, “I think probably from the newly-repaired sidewalk outside the Serendipity Hotel.”
Yes, the Hotel where Samir and Pepsi often drank early in the morning and into the day, arguing over old battles fought and lost in the Sudan, or in the refugee camp where they were found by the missionaries and brought here. I could see the walks had been patched with burning asphalt last time I was there. It wasn"t blood after all, let alone Doc"s blood. It was regurgitated old tires or something.
“We had to let Samir go. There was no g
