Fry (5 page)

The door slams ominously behind me.

Two plain clothes detectives sit side by side behind the desk; a tall, skinny man in a lilac shirt and a small, round woman with a wispy ponytail.

“Isabel Anderson?” says the man, beckoning me to sit down.

“Yes.” 

“I’m Detective Sergeant Penney, and this is Detective Constable Smith. We’d like to ask you a few questions about the fire at the caravan park last Saturday. You are aware that there was a fire?”

“Yes!” My voice comes out too loud and too fast. “Yes,” I repeat, attempting to lower my voice. I seem to have lost control of my volume switch.

“We have reason to suspect that the fire was started deliberately,” Penney continues. “Did you see anything suspicious?”

“No.”

“But you were in the area at the time?”

“Yes. I was at a barbecue at Deacon Frost’s house.”

There is a pause as Penney glances down at his notebook.

“You were seen leaving the party just before the fire started. Can you tell us where you went?”

“I went for a walk,” I falter, “on the beach. I can’t have been gone for more than ten minutes.”

There is a searching look in his eyes.

“Maybe twenty?” I guess. “I don’t really remember.”

The two police officers look at each other, eyebrows raised. Their telepathic communication unnerves me.

“Was it a good party?”

“It was OK.”

“Why did you leave then?”

“I just wasn’t in the mood. I felt like a walk.”

“Did you meet anyone on this walk?”

“There wasn’t anyone on the beach at that time – except Deacon, that is. He came to find me.”

“And what time was this?”

“I don’t know. I wasn’t keeping track.”

“And when did you first hear of the fire?”

“A little while later. One of the other guests discovered it as he was leaving the party.”

They fall silent again, as if waiting to see if I have any more to add. I know they’re expecting me to say something, but I really don’t know what more I can tell them. Then, finally, Penney reaches into his pocket and pulls out what looks like a sandwich bag.

“What’s that?”

He slides it across the table to me.

“Does this look familiar?”

I glance down at the metal object. It’s my lighter, there’s no denying it. Julio bought it for my birthday. My initials are embossed on it in fake diamond studs.

“Where did you get that?” I ask with trepidation.

“At the caravan park. It
is
yours then?”

I nod, because what’s the point in denying it? It’ll have my prints all over it.

I fold my arms, thoughtfully. “It’s odd though. I could have sworn I lost it before the fire. We needed a lighter to light the barbecue and I didn’t have it on me.”

“So how did it come to be at the caravan park?”

“I really don’t know, though I did go there with my friends when we heard about the fire. We wanted to see if there was anything we could do to help.”

“The owner tells me you were there again the following morning, scrabbling around in the dirt.”

“I wasn’t scrabbling…” I break off, wondering how I got myself into this mess.

“My friend was staying there. We went back to see if any of her stuff had survived the fire. You can ask her if you like. Her name’s Alicia McBride, she works here.” 

“Yes, we’ve already spoken to Miss McBride.”

“You have?”

“Yes, she said she you left the party for a good thirty minutes.”

“She did?”

“Yes.”

Well, maybe I did, I don’t remember.

There is another long pause. The detectives seem to have run out of questions.

You don’t have anything on me, do you?

“I really don’t think I can help you any further,” I say, sounding a lot more brazen than I feel. “Can I go now?”

Penney nods grimly. “If you remember anything else, please give me a call.”

He passes me a card with his number on it.

“Can I have my lighter back?”

“I think we’ll hang onto in for now if you don’t mind.”

I decide not to push my luck.

I almost send Sonya flying as I walk out of the office. She must have been standing with her ear pressed right up against the door.

“Well?” she demands. “How did it go?”

“Well, they didn’t arrest me.”

“No?”  

“No. Of course they didn’t. I mean why would I burn down the caravan park? What possible motivation could I have?”

I march through the store, ignoring the prying eyes that follow me. I need to speak to Alicia, but she’s on her break. Eventually, I go back to the office. The police have gone now and Stu is sitting at Sonya’s desk, talking and laughing with a couple of his buddies from the warehouse.

“What do you call an Essex girl without a fake tan?” he chuckles.

“I don’t know?” I say, walking into the room. “What do you call her?”

“Hey, Isabel! I hear you’ve been a bad girl,” he smirks. “Let me know if you need me to bail you out.” He makes an obscene gesture and the others laugh. I ought to report him to HR, but I couldn’t bear the paperwork.

It is a long, long day of ridiculous jokes and innuendos. Not to mention the fact that half the checkout staff are still poised to go on strike. Finally, at a quarter to five, I grab my stuff and charge out the door. It’s a little early, but I don’t care. I’ve had enough.

I drive straight round to the Beach House. Alicia is already in the kitchen, setting the table for dinner. She blanches when she sees me. She knows she’s done me wrong.

“What did you say to the police?” I ask, unable to hide my fury.

She ignores me and continues to set the table.

I grab the knives and forks from her hand and slam them down.

“What did you tell them?” I shout, my voice shaking.

“Who?” 

“Who do you bloody think? The police! What did you tell them about me?”

“Just the truth,” she whimpers, her eyes impossibly wide.

“You told them I left the party, didn’t you? Why did you do that?”

“But why
did
you leave the party, Isabel?”

Suddenly, I explode.

“Are you’re trying to set me up?” I grab her by the shoulders, ready to give her a good hard shake.

“Isabel! Get off her!” Deacon steps in between us. He looks from one to the other. “What the hell is going on here?”

“She told the police I left the barbecue!” I fume. “Now they think I’m the one who started the fire.”

“Isabel, you’re blowing this all out of all proportion,” Deacon says, calmly.

“The police were here this morning and they talked to all of us. No one said anything that would have made them think you were the culprit.”

“Well, thanks for giving me a heads up,” I say bitterly. “Great friend you are!”

I stalk out to my car and sit there for a while, breathing heavily, too angry to drive. Now that I’ve yelled at Alicia, I ought to feel better, but I don’t. She hasn’t given me any of the answers I need, and now I’m feeling guilty all over again.

There is a soft knock on the window. It’s Deacon. I wind it down.

“You were out of line, talking to Alicia like that.”

“You wouldn’t understand.”

“Then explain it to me.”

But I can’t. He doesn’t see Alicia the way I do. None of them do.

I get to work early. Alicia is already on the shop floor.

I call out her name, but she pretends to be engrossed in what she’s doing. She looks… scared when she sees me. I furrow my brow. Is it really plausible that she has nothing to do with all the strange events going on in my life? I just don’t know anymore, it’s all too confusing.

“Look Alicia,” I say, walking over to her. “I’m sorry about last night, OK? I was just a bit upset. I shouldn’t have taken it out on you.”

Alicia pats my arm. Her touch is surprisingly warm, considering how cold the shop gets.

“Don’t worry about the police,” she says. They’re just trying to scare you.”

Well, they’re doing a pretty good job.

I join Sonya at the checkouts, where she is still taking grief about the automated tills. If Stu doesn’t give us some solid answers soon, I think we should feed him to this lot, let them eat him alive like piranhas. A number of them have already told me they have unexpected dentist or doctor’s appointments this week. I strongly suspect that they’ve been applying to Filbert’s
en masse.

“You’re doing it again, Sonya,” I say, pulling her hand down from her hair.

She has this horrible habit of pulling her hair out, strand by strand. It’s a stress thing. She doesn’t even know she’s doing it. She’ll have a bald spot the size of the Grand Canyon if she carries on like this.

“We’ve got to do something,” she says in exasperation. “At this rate, Filbert’s is going to take all our best people.”

“I know,” I agree. “If only we were allowed to run this place properly, without interference from that idiot.”

* * *

I pop round to Kate’s house for a cup of tea on the way home. I’m thinking about sharing my concerns about Alicia with her. Maybe she can tell me if I’m worrying over nothing.

“Come on in!” she says, as she answers the door. “Alicia’s just made some tea.”

“Alicia’s here?”

I don’t know why I’m even surprised anymore. She seems to pop up everywhere I go these days. I’m tempted to leave, but I make myself sit down at the table. I’m determined to play nice.

Alicia smiles at me.

“Would you like a cup, Isabel?”

For a moment, my suspicious mind works overtime, wondering if she’s somehow poisoned the tea, or if she wants me to leave fingerprints on the cup so that she can plant more evidence at crime scenes. Given my misgivings, I should just say no, but instead I nod, numbly.

I watch as she pours the tea and swirls the leaves around in each cup, muttering something incomprehensible.

“What’s she doing?” I whisper to Kate.

“She’s going to read our tea leaves.”

“Seriously?”

“It’ll be fun!”

Reluctantly, I agree. I’m not sure I trust Alicia as far as I can throw her, but what harm can she do with a few tea leaves? And besides, it would be good to know what fate has in store for me, for a change.

We gulp our tea quickly, eager to get to the leaf reading. I’m not used to drinking tea made with loose leaves, and I splutter a bit as some of it goes down the wrong way. Kate pats me on the back.

“Do me first,” she says eagerly, once I’ve stopped coughing.

Alicia leans forward and examines the little patterns in her teacup.

“What can you see, Kate?”

Kate scrunches up her face in concentration.

“Looks like a present?” she says, hopefully.

“Yes!” Alicia takes a closer look. “A parcel. That means a surprise.”

“A good surprise or a bad one?” I ask.

Alicia shrugs. “It doesn’t say.  Maybe that depends on you.”

Kate raises her eyebrows at me and I smile.

“So what about yours?” I ask.

Alicia gazes down at her own cup and a slow smile spreads across her face.

“I see a lover,” she says, blushing.

“Ooh!” Kate claps her hands together. “Maybe it’s that hot new pizza guy!”

Alicia giggles. “Let’s do yours, Isabel.”

I offer her my cup.

“What can you see?” she asks, as the three of us pore over the splattered tea leaves in the bottom of my cup. Mine looks a bit messier than the other two.

“Well, that blob looks a bit like Fluffy,” I say eventually.

“Yes, a cat.” Alicia confirms. “And next to it is a wolf.”

“What’s that, then?” asks Kate, pointing to the biggest shape of all.

“That’s an hourglass.”

“So what does it all mean?”

Alicia takes a deep breath. “Well, the cat is for deceit, or a false friend.”

“Oh.”

“And the wolf?”

“The wolf is for jealousy.”

“And what about the hourglass?”

“Yes, the hourglass,” Alicia looks me right in the eye. “That means that time is running out.”

“Time for what?”

“Who knows? Maybe it means you need to make a change in your life, or get something done. The signs can be very vague.”

“You couldn’t magic up a couple of lovers for us then?” I ask. “Not that I’m not grateful for my assortment of strange animals and warnings about punctuality.”

Alicia laughs her squeaky little laugh. “Maybe next time. I can only work with the what the tea leaves give me.”

“What do you think?” I ask Fluffy that night, as we watch Neighbours together.

“Can she really read tea leaves, or was she making it all up? ‘The cat is for deceit, or a false friend,’” I say, mimicking her high-pitched voice. “She’s obviously not a cat lover then.”

Knock! Knock!

Who’s that?

“I’m coming,” I yell. I don’t know why people don’t just use the doorbell. There’s nothing wrong with it. 

I undo the latch and the door swings back. 

It’s the police. DS Penney and the other one.

“Who were you talking to?”  Penney asks, looking around.

“Oh, just my cat,” I say, gesturing towards the sofa, but Fluffy has already gone into hiding, the false friend that he is.

“So how can I help you?” I ask, glancing at my watch. It seems a bit late to be making house calls.

“We just have one question for you, Isabel. What happened to Rose Cottage?”