Short Story: The Inspector

Short Story: The Inspector

"Blasted kids!" seethed Veronica Heron, stooping in the January snow to survey the damage to her ancient house in the bright, cold winter sunlight. The door had a corner broken off and the window had been given a good nibbling judging by the way it was lying in cracked pieces on the forest floor. She pulled her wand out of her apron pocket with a gnarled, bony hand and made a start on the door, stroking the edges and teasing the gingerbread out as if spreading paint on a picture until the gap in the door was blocked up.

“Oh just look at this place!” she threw her arms up in gesture of irritation and scurried around in a panic, collecting pieces of cracked sugar pane, attempting to match them up like a spiky jigsaw puzzle.

“Hello?” a jovial man’s voice called from the edge of the clearing. “Anyone home?”

Veronica gave a startled jump, fervently hoping her visitors weren’t arriving early. She dropped the sugar pane pieces, smashing them even further. “Curses!” she spat before fixing her face into a benevolent smile and turning to the intruder. “Can I help you?” she sounded like a head teacher finding a pupil up to no good.

“Miss Veronica Heron?” the stranger approached her as he spoke, his shiny black shoes crunching the thick layer of hardened snow. He was short and round under his thick winter coat and woollen scarf. The arrangement of big brown eyes, chubby cheeks and balking head giving him the appearance of a muffled hamster.

“Who wants to know?”

“Detective Inspector Andrew Jolly, Miss.” He pulled his warrant card out of his inside pocket and held it still for a moment so she could focus on it. “Are you Veronica Heron?”

She nodded her consent and held his gaze, as if she was trying to read his thoughts.

“Had a spot of bother?” he cast a professional eye over the damage.

“Yes, vandals,” Veronica complained. “But they’re gone now, more’s the pity. I’m a great believer in the principle that the criminal should pay for their crimes.”

“Pay? How do you mean?” DI Jolley asked abruptly.

“Well, you know,” Veronica backtracked. “Clear up, pay for damage.”

“Oh yes, I see.” The DI was almost disappointed by her answer.

“What do you want Detective Inspector? I’ve got guests arriving tomorrow and have a lot to do.”

“I’m making enquiries about a couple of missing children.” He again reached into his inside pocked and pulled out a dog-eared photo. “Hansel and Gretel from the village. Went missing about a fortnight ago after getting lost in the forest. Have you seen them?”

Veronica answered stridently. “The only children I’ve seen recently are the vicious vandals that attacked my house.” She took a sideways peek at him and seemed to shrink her thin body down into her clothes.

“I live alone, just me and my cat. As you can imagine I was terrified.”

He took the bait. “Yes, of course. Did you contact the police?”

“How can I? I live a solitary, isolated life. I have no way of communicating with the outside world.”

“That’s OK Miss.” He took out his mobile phone. “I’ll phone the office and file a report for you.”

“You won’t get a signal,” Veronica muttered, touching the wand in her apron pocket before turning her attention back to her damaged window.

“Sorry,” DI Jolley turned to Veronica, “I can’t get a signal here, must be too deep in the forest. I’ll send someone around later to take down the details. Still, I expect your insurance will cover it.”

“Insurance,” she mocked, “here?”

She looked away so he didn’t see the puzzlement on her face. “Insurance,” she muttered to herself. “Must look that one up.”

“Miss Heron,” persisted DI Jolley, “If you see these children please contact me. We’re very concerned about their safety.”

“Yes, of course,” Veronica replied sensibly. “But tell me, how did they get lost in the forest in the first place?”

“As you know, the village is in deep recession. Some say it is dark forces at work. I say it’s more likely global warming. All those floods last year, all those crops failing, farming livelihoods threatened. Well, obviously I can’t go into details, but their family couldn’t afford to feed them anymore. Terrible situation.”

Veronica nodded her sympathy, distracted by the way the flab on the police officer’s face wobbled as he spoke. There was a very slight pause before the implication of his words washed over her and as the expression on his face darkened she seemed to stretch and loom over him.

“What are you accusing me of? Thought they might find some food in the forest did you?” she demanded.

“Well, you know, your house looks and smells very tempting.” He licked his lips and sniffed the sweetness in the air.

“This is my home!” ranted Veronica. “I’m sick and tired of every tom, Dick and Harry in the village thinking they can come and snack on it at their convenience.” She held up a sliver of sugar pane for him to inspect. “My window, or what is left of it,” she asserted, pushing past him, surprising him with her strength.

“Miss Heron, I haven’t come here to discuss the pros and cons of building a food-based house in the middle of a famine. I’m just here to find these two kids. Their father’s beside himself, poor man. I haven’t got family, but I can imagine how he feels.”

DI Jolley reached into his trouser pocket and pulled out large white handkerchief on which to blow his nose. Veronica caught a tantalising glimpse of barrel-shaped stomach overhang, which soothed her, seducing her back to her normal height.

“You live alone like me?” she asked, trying not to sound too nosy.

“Yes I live on me own,” he answered politely. “Nearest family live the other side of the country.” He frowned and closed his lips. He should be asking the questions. “Anyway, if you can’t help in our enquiry then I’ll be on my way.” He made to go.

“What shall I do?” Veronica urged, wrapping her woollen shawl around her scrawny body, which was shrinking again for effect.

“Do?” DI Jolley didn’t quite understand.

“If the vandals return, if they bring friends. What shall I do? If they are as hungry as you say, they could get nasty.” She forced tears into her voice.

“In my experience vandals don’t usually return to the scene of the crime so soon. Is there anyone who can help you?”

“No,” Veronica replied gently. “Not until my guests arrive tomorrow.” Veronica hid her face in her hands, a gesture that irritated DI Jolley. He knew he couldn’t leave her like this.

“Please stay a bit longer DI Jolley. How about a cup of tea? Surely you can’t be expected to work all day without a tea break?”

“Ok,” DI Jolley relented. “Just the one though. Big pile of paperwork waiting for me at the office.” He entered the warm, tidy interior, breathing deeply the sweet ginger and cinnamon scent that filled the air. “I’ll go and make sure that damaged window is safe while the kettle boils.” He inspected the gaping hole where the window used to be, then pulled down a tea towel drying on a cage tied the ceiling and used it to shut out the late afternoon chill and fresh frosty wind.

Veronica stared at the boxes of herbs she used for making medicines on the shelf above the range. She had never made the stuff villagers call tea before. She knew it was made of dried leaves and chose carefully from two or three boxes, which she deposited in the brown-glazed teapot she used for brewing her remedies. She thought of her guest and hope they weren’t going to be too disappointed tomorrow. After all, she was never going to be ready in time; this really had been a terrible day.

As DI Jolley bent over to pick up a piece of sugar pane she had dropped she noticed the round globe of his bottom in tight stay-pressed cotton trousers and caught an excited breath. “Oh, great goddess, what a sight to warm an old woman’s chilled heart!” she prayed. “Tea’s ready!” she called to DI Jolley who was leaning out of the broken window, following a trail of evidence like a sniffer dog.

She moved a pile of ancient leather-bound books from an armchair and motioned him to sit. The chair gave a deep groan as he sank his flabby bulk into it.

“Looks like there were two of them,” the DI noted, taking a slurp of his tea. “Very good tea Miss Heron,” he announced, “Is it PG?”

She said nothing, but smiled and waited. “Two of them, you say?” her anticipation was almost visible.

“Yes, you must have scared them. Two sets of footprints clearly visible in the snow lead into the woods. They were in a great hurry by the look of them.” He thought for a moment as he took another sip of tea and then added, “Funny, that.”

“What’s funny DI Jolley?”

“The, the whacahallem’s…” he was having a few problems finding the right words. “The food thingies. There’s something wrong with the footprints.”

A flash of understanding jolted his body. He dropped the teacup and tried to struggle up out of the armchair but it felt as if the chair was holding on to him, dragging him down into sagging chintz.

“I know,” explained Veronica calmly. “The footprints only go one way.They only go away from the cottage.”

She undid the rope on a pulley attached to the side of the range and lowered a large cage onto the ground.

For DI Jolley the world lost all its sharp edges. He could still see and hear everything going on around him, but it all seemed top be happening in slow motion. He felt a pleasant floating sensation that he was just beginning to enjoy when he discovered it was caused by Veronica levitating his limp body with some kind of spell. She was pointing at him with her want and directing him into the cage. He heard the door snap shut and felt the cage lift up into the rafters, Veronica’s body stretching and elongating as she reached to tie the rope to a hook. Then he sensed nothing at all, trapped inside a body that was trapped inside a cage.

A large group of witches and wizards gathered outside veronica’s house the next day. They were clad in their winter finest, warming themselves by a huge bonfire.

“Yes, I was getting really worried,” Veronica explained. “I had been fattening up two delicious-looking children. They escaped the little scamps.”

Everyone laughed politely.

“You can imagine my frustration; no sacrifice for the festival would have been a disaster.”

They all agreed readily.

“So tell me Veronica,” asked a tall, important-looking wizard, “How did you find such a fine specimen?”

Veronica gave a girly giggle. “Let’s just say it was a little bit of detective work,” she replied.