Tyler looked out the window of his office and saw Dameon pull in. "What's he doing back?" he grumbled to himself. Quickly he put the file away and returned to his computer. Dameon trudged in looking positively volcanic. Tyler decided not to say anything and just stared at his computer screen. Dameon entered his office and flopped down into his chair. He'd left his computer on and pulled up a search page. Typing in the name "Allens, Matthew", Dameon pressed enter and waited. In about 45 seconds the page came up with two matches; Matthew P. Allens who lived in Georgia and Matthew C. Allens who lived in Seneca Falls, New York. Dameon figured that the Matthew Allens in New York was not the right person so he focused on the one in Georgia. Sure enough he'd chosen the correct man. Dameon turned on his printer and printed the pages on Matthew P. Allens.
Realizing that he needed a highlighter, he rummaged quickly through his desk. He didn't have one. Sighing, he got up and walked the 3 feet to Tyler's office. "Tyler, do you have a highlighter?" he asked his partner through the closed oak door. Moments later he heard Tyler rummaging through his desk and then the door opened and he handed Dameon an orange highlighter. "Thanks," the 23-year-old said. Tyler just nodded and closed his door. Dameon quickly reentered his office and picked up the printed files on Mr. Allens. He began skimming over the information and highlighting pertinent facts; his phone number, social security number, credit cards and other legal documentation held by the government. The majority of the file was his current work status and the payments he'd made with his credit cards in the last month. Suddenly something caught his eye.
On his Visa card, there was a purchase of a $245 plane ticket to Rhode Island. "Hmm. That's interesting," Dameon said in a half whisper. Quickly taking down the flight number, he called the local airport to see what he could find. "Hello?" came the annoying voice of woman in her mid twenties. "Yes. My name is Officer Dameon Redding and---," he began. "Look, I don't talk to cops ok. It's not my job," the annoying woman continued in her whiny, nasal voice. "Well ma'am, as an officer, I do have the right to make you answer," Dameon said, getting a bit irritated. "Hang on ok sir. I'm going to transfer you," she said and Dameon heard a click. Several minutes later, a deep male voice picked. "Service desk how may I help you?" "Yes. My name is Officer Dameon Redding and I need to know the number of a Mr. Matthew P. Allens," Dameon said briskly. "Sure. He went to Rhode Island and the number that he can be reached at is (401) 245-8910," the man said. "Thank you for your time," Dameon finished and he hung up.
Next on his list of things to do was to call this number and talk to Mr. Allens. Dameon was about to dial the number when he heard a knock on his door. "Yeah?" Dameon shouted. "What you doing in there?" Tyler asked. "Uh, just some follow-up stuff," Dameon said, feeling a bit nervous. "Oh. Well I'm going home ok," Ty said and before Dameon had a chance to answer he heard footsteps receding from the hall. Recovering from his sudden distraction Dameon dialed the number. Luckily for him the phone began to ring automatically. After the fifth ring, a voice picked up. "Hello?" came the tired voice of a middle-aged woman. "I'm looking for a Mr. Matthew P. Allens," Dameon stated. "Matt! Phone call," the woman yelled. Dameon could hear loud footsteps echoing off the ground and thus figured the floor was linoleum. "'Ello?" Matthew said. "Mr. Allens this is Officer Redding calling," Dameon started. "Can I help you with something officer?" the man asked. "Yes. I need to know why you left town two days after the murder of Kara Redding?" he choked. "Kara, that name sounds familiar. Oh my! That's right she was found dead wasn't she," he said, sounding very surprised. Dameon nodded but knew the man on the other end would not pick up this subtle movement. "My mother was very ill you see and we knew her time was coming so we, that's me and my three sisters and four brothers all flew out here for the funeral," he explained very causally, as if it were an every day occurrence. "Oh," was all Dameon could say. "You can ask anyone in the house and they'll tell you the same thing I just told you," Mr. Allens continued sensing that Dameon did not completely trust his alibi. "No that's alright. Thanks for your time and I�.I'm sorry for the death of your mother," he said, immediately hating himself for saying that. He'd been about ready to explode when people said that to him. "Eh. Don't worry about it. She was 109," Mr. Allens said before Dameon hung up. '109!' he thought astonished.