The Mysterious Murder of Meredith Monson

The abrupt gunshot and bloodcurdling scream that sounded from the juniors’ section of Nordstrom nearly caused my heart to stop its vibrant beating.  When I’d entered North Park Mall that morning with my two best friends, Meredith Monson and Iliana Heart; I hadn’t expected to find one of them dead near the coat rack.  
Just a few minutes earlier, Meredith had informed me of her dire need for a “cute” coat.  Now she and her pricy Gucci purse were sprawled on the stained concrete floor, her black designer boots still dotted with drops of moisture from the raging storm outside.  That’s when the alarms went off.  The mall was now in lock down.  A metal gate was hastily lowered to the floor, surrounding the juniors‘ department.  
I was vaguely aware of Iliana sobbing onto my shoulder, murmuring, “Oh, Taber!  Whatever shall we do without Meredith?”  I struggled to hold in my tears as a man and two portly security officers with a group of police, entered the vicinity from a back door, two men and one woman. 
“Don’t worry, everyone!” a man stepped forward, his black fedora bobbing as he spoke.  “My name is Dr. Culpepper.  I’m a detective.  I’ve brought with me some cops-”
“And Mall cops!”  The second man, wearing a blue and white jacket, interrupted.
“Yes, mall cops also.  Their names are Mike Johannon and Stephanie Myers.”
A whistle pierced my ears. “Silence!” Stephanie snarled at no one in particular.
“Now please gather around everyone and give me your names one at a time,” Dr. Culpepper concluded.
It turned out that there were only four other people in the area near the scene of the crime:
Lenard Winston, Rosa Charlese, Matthias Janie, Iliana Heart…  I gulped out my name, “Taber Newton.”
“Okay, thank you.  You may sit down now… all of you.”
As I settled down on the chilly floor, Mike shouted, “That took ten seconds… just to sit down!  But don’t worry, I have all day-”
“Anyway, I need to investigate the scene, so if you’ll please excuse me…” Dr. Culpepper backed off to Meredith’s lifeless body.  “Oh, and Stephanie, can you get fingerprints from each of these suspects?”
Stephanie chuckled as she instructed us to place our thumbs onto a piece of sterile paper.   After ten minutes of thorough searching, Dr. Culpepper approached our little group with a gun and a silver whistle in hand.  Draped over his shoulder was the Gucci purse that had been swinging on Meredith’s arm with a scrap of blue and white fabric snagged on the zipper.
“Taber, I thought you might want this… since you seemingly knew her well,” he whispered, yanking the cloth away.
“Thank you,” I gently grasped the purse.
“I’m sending these to the lab,” Dr. Culpepper declared to all, glancing suspiciously at Ms. Myers’ and Mr. Johannon’s uniforms.  “They will be sent with your fingerprints… but I’m missing two.  Mike, Stephanie; your fingerprints please.”
Stephanie gave Dr. Culpepper a murderous glare, while Mr. Johannon grumbled under his breath.  Finally, the final samples were collected and sent to the lab.  
“Having gathered and pondered on the clues, I would like to announce that Lenard Winston, Rosa Charlese, Matthias Janie, Iliana Heart and Taber Newton are free to go as innocent,” Dr. Culpepper smiled grimly as the others, including myself, sighed in relief.  He turned to Mike and Stephanie, “However, you two need to stay here.  One of you is the culprit.”
Ms. Myers gasped in injured shock, but Mr. Johannon laughed sarcastically.  A metallic clanking echoed around the store as the metal gates were lifted.  Slowly, the former suspects dispersed and left; except me.  
I wandered around Nordstrom, grieving for my lost friend, until Dr. Culpepper finally fetched me.   In his hand, he held an iPhone.
“Here are the lab results,” he simply stated, scrolling through his email, studied it for just a moment and announced, “As I thought, Mr. Michael Luke Johannon is guilty of the murder of your dear friend, Miss Meredith Grace Monson.”
“Why?” the words exploded out of my mouth before I could swallow them.
“That’s obviously my wife’s purse.  That brat stole it!  My darling had even written her name on the tag.  Go ahead and check!  I promise that it’ll say Carla Johannon!” Mike defended.
My hands shook as I opened the purse.  Hidden behind Meredith’s iPhone was a tag stating not the name Carla Johannon, but Meredith Monson.
“It says… Meredith Monson,” I muttered.
“Lies!  You little-” Mr. Johannon’s screaming was cut short by a police officer who promptly gagged and hand-cuffed him.
Mike struggled, but the officer laughed grimly, “It’s off to prison for you!”
As they led him off to jail, I knew justice was served, but that would never bring my dear friend back.