Flash

"What was that?" Detective Graham McClintock leaned forward in an attempt to better hear the man in front of him at the funeral.

"I'm the one who called you," said the man, reeking of gin and filth. "I saw him. He and his wife were coming out of the Hotel Paris with my friend Ray." "When was this?"

"Tuesday night about seven."

"That was the same night of the murder. Then what..."The detective was cut short by the uncontrollable sobbing of the widow.

Mr. and Mrs. Kip Londoner had been married only a year when he was murdered in their East side apartment. It was Rebecca Londoner who found her husband lying on the living room floor with a carving knife plunged into his back. No prints, outside of the Londoner's had been found; no sign of forced entry or struggle.

"So what were they doing?" asked the detective.

"I don't know. They shook hands then they got in the car and Ray walked down the street."

"Where's Ray now?"

"Well that's the thing. Ray's been gone since that night. I don't want to get my friend in trouble or nothin' but I thought someone'd want to know."

"Thanks. Here's something for your trouble." The detective pressed a folded bill into the man's hand and walked back to his car.

The detective drove to the Londoner's apartment and parked across the street. That's when he noticed him. Standing in the alley of the apartment building, nervously looking up the street then looking down at his watch, was a man dressed in rags, covered in filth. The detective got out of the car and crossed the street. Coming up beside the man, he said "Have you got the time, Kip?"

Without missing a beat, the man lifted his wrist, revealing a gold watch and relied, "Sure, it's half past four." It was then on that same wrist that Detective McClintock secured his handcuff.

"You have the right to remain silent..."

"Hey, what are you arresting me for?"

"For the murder of Kip Londoner. That is his watch, isn't it?"

"No there's been a mistake. I am Kip Londoner."

"Really? I was just at your funeral," the detective said with a laugh. "C'mon buddy. I'll finish my speech in the car."

"No you don't understand. I'm Kip!" he shouted.

"Yeah, I know," the detective said with a wink as he helped the man into the car and closed the door.

Three hours later, Rebecca McClintock entered her apartment. "Honey, the lawyer agreed to send the estate to me in Paris. Have you got the tickets?" she asked.

"Right here, baby," said the detective. "Did anyone at the funeral notice the replacement?"

"Not one. He and that homeless guy looked exactly alike. How is he doing?"

"Right now he's a bit confused. That's what happens when you trade places with a nameless face to fake your own death. Guess he never counted on his own wife turning the tables."

"Guess he guessed wrong."