A Long Vacation

"Freeze!"

I stopped in my tracks, my mind racing, my pulse racing even more. Make a run for it? That seemed like a bad plan if there was a gun pointed at me.

"Hands in the air!"

I complied.

"Turn around! Slowly!"

I looked at the airport cop. He looked more scared than I was.

"Down on the floor!"

I really didn't want to get my clothes dirty, but I got down and laid out, my hands spread.

"Gary Evans, I am placing you under arrest..."

I quickly interrupted. "Who?"

"Smart guy, eh?"

"No, really. I'm not whoever you just said. "I'm Peter Gains. ID in my wallet. Can I show you?"

"Don't make a move!" The cop walked over and handcuffed me, then patted me down. "Where's your ID?"

"In my pants. Left front pocket."

The cop, gun pointed at my head, reached into my pocket and pulled out my wallet. He studied my passport, unsure what to do. "It's fake," he declared.

"It's real," I replied, a little calmer now. "What's this about?"

"I think you know. Where are the diamonds?"

"The diamonds?" I replied.

I watched as the cop reached for his radio. He was about to call it in and then I'd be surrounded by cops. I acted fast. "Officer, I think you've made a big mistake. Do you really want to call for backup? How about we sort it out right now and save you the embarrassment?"

The cop paused as my word sunk in. "I've got a photo of you. There's a warrant for your arrest. I'm taking you in."

"Can I see the photo?"

The cop hesitated, then pulled out his phone and pointed it towards me.

"Damn," I said, "that does look a lot like me."

"It is you!" the cop blustered.

I studied the photo some more and noticed the description. "It really isn't... the guy you're looking for is five-eleven. I'm five-eight. And it says in his fifties. I'm thirty-two... and what's that on his face? A mole or something by his nose?"

The cop studied the photo and stood motionless, unsure how to proceed. "Show me your plane ticket," he said, a little less aggressively now.

"Top shirt pocket, I replied."

He reached in and took it. "Saint Kitts? Really? That's a non-extradition country."

"Saint Kitts is beautiful. I really need a vacation. Officer, I get it. I look a lot like your guy, but it's not me. Do you really want to call it in? I can just walk away and I swear that'll be the end of it."

The cop's body sunk a little. He unlocked the handcuffs. "I'm sorry, sir. You're free to go."

I thanked him, shook his hand, then casually strolled towards the airport. He was right, Saint Kitts was a non-extradition country. And he was right that I wasn't the diamond thief. The only thing he got wrong was he should have arrested me for the murder I'd committed a few hours earlier.