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Finding a Killer
"I am Jan Levee with your daily news on channel 8. We give you the real facts
about real things that happened. Today we tell you about an illegal drug found
at a local pub, a dead girl found in a ditch, a train wreck that caused many
deaths, and more. Again I am Jan Levee for channel 8, we will be right back."
Bob Honn leaned back in his chair as he watched the television set he had just
got last Christmas. He always watched the news; he felt that it gave him the
scoop of what was happening in the world, or at least in Bismark, North Dakota
where he had lived most of his recent years. He had just ended college where he
was studying to become a detective.
"We're back again with your daily news. A young girl of the age of 24 was found
dead at a corner ditch between Elm and World Fellowship. The area is now roped
up with police surrounding. The girl was supposedly riding a bike and fell into
the ditch at night. Landing on the concrete she spilt her head open causing her
to loose a large amount of blood. She was identified as a Beth Johnson."
Bob starred wide- eyed at the screen then stood up. He grabbed his keys in a
fast motion and ran out the door. He locked the door and got into his car. His
mind was racing with thoughts about the news he had just heard.
"Surely it can't the Beth Johnson I know," he rapidly. He got out of car when he
got to Beth's house. Beth's bike was not outside like it usually was and her cat
was outside clawing at the door crying to get in. Bob went up the steps and
picked up the orange tabby cat. As he walked inside there was a flash of light.
Dozens of reporters with microphones and cameras stood inside, all wanting the
same thing. Mr. and Mrs. Johnson stood in the middle of the crowd yelling at the
reporters to get away. Mr. Johnson's hair was messed- up and looked like he had
just got out of bed. Mrs. Johnson's make- up was rolling down her face and she
had dark rings under her eyes. Bob tried his best to help get the reporters out,
but there were too many of them. He went to the stairs and screamed at the top
of his lungs, "GET OUT!"
The reporters looked at him and so did the Johnsons.
"Who is he?" said an over- weight, male reporter.
"Bob," Mrs. Johnson whispered and ran over to him, grasping him in a big hug.
She sobbed into his sweater, but he didn't stop her. He guided her down the
stairs and through the mob of reporters. Bob gestured Mr. Johnson to come over
and he did. They walked out the door and got into Bob's car. Mr. Johnson smiled
in a thank of gratitude. Mrs. Johnson just laid her head down and sobbed.
"Carl, it must be him. It has to be," she said in between sobs to Mr. Johnson.
"That's what I think too, but we can't be sure."
"Who?" Bob said in confuse meant.
"Len Bievsum," Mr. Johnson said, "He thinks we killed his father."
Bob stood back in amazement, "Did you?"
"Of course not," Mr. Johnson flatly.
"Well, I am going to check this guy out," Bob said.
Mrs. Johnson looked up, "No. You can't."
"Well, I am."
After dropping the Johnsons back to their house, Bob went to the street Mr.
Johnson told him to. As he pulled up into Len Bievsum's driveway, he noticed the
house. It was a quite small trailer with vines growing on the sides. He shut the
car door and rung the doorbell. A tall man in a leather jacket opened the door.
"Are you Len Bievsum?" I asked calmly.
"Who wants to know," he answered back.
"Detective Bob Honn, I'm investigating a case. May I come in?"
Len grunted then opened the door all the way.
"Come in," he said dully.
"Thank you," was by response.
Bob went inside the trailer and starred the mess of things.
"Uh, I haven't had time to do my cleaning yet," he said in an embarrassed voice.
They sat down and began talking.
"Do you know the Johnsons?" Bob started.
"How about their daughter?"
"Sure, she was the sweet girl that sold cookies each year."
"Did you know that she was killed yesterday?"
"No. Well, she should have been more careful, it was very dark last night and
her bike is not always safe. Beth was such a sweet girl."
Bob starred at Len.
"May I be excused? I need to use the bathroom," Bob asked.
"Sure. The bathroom is the third door to the right."
In less than an hour Len Bievsum was arrested by the police for the murder of
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