On the way to the crime scene, Detectives Bolton and Adams--both of them amateur historians--got into a heated debate.

"Personally, I'm against protectivist tariffs on foreign goods," Bolton said, "and I'm inclined to think that your ancestor, our sixth President, was much the same way."

"You couldn't be more wrong," Adams said. "And, what's more, your insistence that Presidents should replace appointees at the first sign of political disagreement wouldn't have sat well with him, either."

They continued much in this vein until they pulled up at the front of the apartment building, already taped off and crawling with crime-scene techs. Bolton and Adams looked over the position of the body and the basics of the crime scene. They then spent the next two hours questioning people who lived nearby. It was a frustrating afternoon: no two of the stories matched in even the smallest details about the number of shots, the time of the shooting, or even whether the victim was well-liked or despised by his neighbors.

At the end of the day, as the two detectives were driving back to the station, Bolton said, "I think every last one of them was lying."

"You've got that right," Adams said. "But to some extent, every John Q is a liar."

Later that evening, Bolton recounted his day to a sympathetic bartender over a glass of beer, starting with his political argument and ending with the frustrating afternoon.

"But surely you must've learned something today," the bartender said, polishing a pint glass.

"Well, I guess what it comes down to is this," Bolton told the bartender. "You should never believe John Q. Adams agrees with me."

With apologies for the cross-post.