Ding-dong!

She jumped up. Finally, the pizza arrived.

She unlocked the door and was about to open, when the door slammed open and she was murdered on the spot.

***

Mike’s stomach growled. He was glad that Sarah invited him for a pizza hangout.

He walked towards her house and rang the bell. Ding dong!

He waited. No response.

He pressed again. No response.

He scowled. Tapping the bell furiously over and over again, he tried the doorknob. To his surprise, it wasn’t locked. Shrugging, he entered.

He froze.

In front of him, laid a heavily injured Sarah, soaked in blood. Recovering from his shock, he bent and checked her pulse. He grabbed his phone, his palms sweating as he dialed for the ambulance.

“Don’t worry, the ambulance is coming, nothing will happen to you.”

“8…2…”  

“Shut up, nothing will happen…!”

“…7…3…9…”

“Over here!” he shouted out of the window to grab attention.

“…5…”

Panic rose in him as she closed her eyes. “Sarah? Hey, speak up. Sarah?”

She never replied.

“Why were you at Sarah’s house?”

Mike gulped, but forced himself to meet the police officer’s eye. “She, uh, invited me over to have a pizza hangout.”

Officer Spencer scribbled something in his notepad. “Only you?”

“No, also Jack. He’s coming from Switzerland. He was supposed to arrive at 7 pm, but his flight was late.”

“Are you sure?”

Mike knitted his eyebrows. Did he suspect Jack? “Yes. His flight landed half an hour before. He’s on his way here.”

Officer Spencer nodded. “Fine. Let me know when he arrives. Any other thing you’d like to share?”

Mike curled his lip. Should he tell about those strange numbers Sarah had mentioned? He decided not to.

When Jack reached Mike in the crime spot, they both joined for Sarah’s funeral. After bringing him up to date, Mike told Jack about those numbers.

Jack looked up thoughtfully. “Hmm. 8, 2, 7,3, 9, 5. Right?”

“Yeah.”

“Maybe it’s someone’s number?”

“Those are just six numbers.”

“A code?”

“For what?”

“No idea.”

Mike thought about it over and over again. It just didn’t connect. How did it all happen?

He tried to imagine what had happened. Sarah ordered a pizza- he knew she couldn’t cook- and then he arrived and… she was nearly dead.

Something happened in between. Something… but what?

He tried to think from her point of view. He imagined himself ordering a pizza from…

“Hey, do you know where Sarah normally orders pizza from?”

Jack tapped his chin. “Well, last time she invited me over, she said that she likes pizza from Pizza Planet.”

He and Jack drove to Pizza Planet for answers. The lady at the counter welcomed them. “How may I help you?”

“Um, we wanted to know about a customer that ordered pizza today,” Mike said. “Sarah Green.”

She checked her computer and then looked at him with a deep frown. “I’m afraid not. No one named Sarah Green ordered today, except for Sarah Jefferson. I’m sorry, sir.”

Mike’s heart sank. Doubt raised in him as he tried searching for the nearest pizza areas, where they denied having such a customer ordering from there.

After leaving Jack in the police station for his questioning, Mike reached home and stared at Sarah’s picture. He punched the wall in frustration. What was he missing?

Lost in thought, he splashed his face with water and headed out for fresh air. He glanced at his neighbor cleaning his motorcycle.

8, 2, 7,3, 9, 5. What did they mean?

5, 9, 3, 7, 2, 8? No, that didn’t make any sense. He tried jumbling them in his head, but failed to make sense.

He was about to give up when he heard the man mutter in his phone, “Gah, this bike’s number plate broke… I think I should…”

Mike’s eyes widened. He dashed home, took his keys, and drove to the police station.

“Officer!” he panto  as he ran inside, interrupting Jack’s questioning. He told about those numbers. “She probably said those because she could see the number plate of the vehicle behind the murderer.”

“What?” Jack asked.

Mike’s mind was racing. “Let’s rewind the scene. The doorbell rings. She obviously goes to answer it, thinking it’s her pizza-”

“But she didn’t order it in the first place,” Jack reminded him.

“Then maybe it was a wrong number! What if she dialed a wrong number, and tells her address to a complete stranger?”

“Possible,” Officer Spencer agreed. “Sarah’s phone was broken, or else we could’ve tracked the murderer.”

“So, she goes to answer the door, but it was a stranger, not the pizza delivery guy. Then she gets murdered, but she catches a glimpse of the stranger’s vehicle behind him or her. And then I arrived, she tells me the numbers, and…”

The police tracked the vehicle with the number plate ‘827395’. Once they got to know its whereabouts, they finally arrested the murderer.