Diary of a Shopkeeper, 11th July
Roxy and Sudoku on the case
Leafing through my case files from the long hot summer of 2021, I see several memorable investigations undertaken by me, Sergeant Assistant Roxy, and my esteemed superior, Detective Chief Sudoku. Even after all these years, my ‘notes taken at the time’ are still valuable.
I don’t mean the greasy brown envelope of ten pound notes I took from the lard-smeared hand of the sheep butcher of Rusk Holm, who kept the good folk of Faray fed on buckshee chops, as long as Police West Mainland turned a blind eye. Those notes are long gone – as, sadly, are the Ruskies, as that rare breed was affectionately known.
There are many accounts I could give of Sudoku’s remarkable powers of deduction. The Case of the Glass Potatoes, for instance, which would never have been solved without the Detective Chief’s deft skills with a tattie masher. Or The Great Orca Enigma, involving a leading local councillor and a specially adapted Polycrub. Even after all these years there’s a strict OIC embargo on writing about this story, but suffice it to say, a Killer Whale is for life not just for Christmas.
The case I want to lay before you now, as it seems to have importance beyond its humble file name, is The Mystery of the Missing Pinot Grigio.
It was in April that the first rumblings were heard. After a light lunch Sudoku’s digestion was much better and we are able to turn our attention to the strange goings-on.
‘So tell us, shopkeeper,’ I said, ‘When did you notice that your Pinot Grigio was mysteriously disappearing?’
‘Well, it always disappears,’ he said. ‘There’s not much mystery about it.’
‘Leave the deduction to us, sonny boy,’ snapped Sudoku, ‘Just give us the evidence.’
‘Pinot Grigio always flies off our shelves,’ said the shopkeeper, ‘as do Sauvignon Blanc and Malbec and Merlot. They’re our most popular wines. Folk buy them, then we order in more from various importers, and we restock the shelves. But we’re having real problems in getting new stock this year. We’re in danger of letting down our customers, which I hate doing.’
‘So it’s hate crime?’ I said, making a note in my notebook of notes.
‘I hate hate crimes,’ said Sudoku, ‘They’re hateful. But this is not just hateful, it’s mysteryful too. And I’m mysterified.’
‘Hold on,’ protested the shopkeeper, ‘it’s not mysterious at all. I can easily explain it. Due to Brexit there’s loads more paperwork at the UK border. So even though we order wine in plenty of time, it gets stuck for days or even weeks at Dover or Felixstowe. They just don’t have enough customs officials to process all the new documents.’
‘I wonder if this problem affects coffee supplies as well as wine?’ mused Sudoku. ‘Only one way to find out. Roxy, let’s continue our investigations over a treble espresso.’
‘Wait, Chief,’ I said, ‘What about paying for the cheese and oatcakes we had for our lunch?’
‘Complimentary, my dear Roxy,’ said Sudoku.
. . .
A month later the Chief informed me he’d made a breakthrough, and we blue-lighted it down to Broad Street.
‘Nobody move!’ Sudoku cried as he strode into the shop with all the alacrity of a teenage smoker heading for a public toilet.
Nobody moved. Mostly because there was no one in the shop except us. Then a back door swung open and the shopkeeper staggered in with several wine boxes in his arms. He set them down on the floor next to his display shelves, and turned to us.
‘Can I help you?’ he said.
‘We’ll ask the questions,’ growled Sudoku.
‘Okay,’ he replied. ‘What can I do for you?’
‘Shut it,’ I snarled, appalled at his blatant disregard for the Chief’s instructions.
‘Oh, sorry,’ he said. ‘I was just trying to be helpful, know what I mean?’
‘One more question from you and we’ll take you down the station,’ said Sudoku, ‘for, eh, questioning.’
‘Can I ask just ONE more?’ said the shopkeeper.
‘Was that it?’ growled Sudoku.
‘No, that was just me asking if I could ask it.’
Sudoku sighed, then nodded, with the magnificent community spirit Police West Mainland are renowned for.
The shopkeeper leaned over: ‘What do you call a film about real things, rather than a made-up story?’
Sudoku thought for a moment, then his eyes narrowed. ‘Documentary, my dear shopkeeper.’
. . .
A week later we were back again. This case was really taxing us to the full, even with Sudoku mainlining macchiato.
‘Any developments, shopkeeper?’ the chief asked.
‘A scarcity of containers in Italy,’ came the reply. ‘That hit Pinot Grigio and Prosecco. Then a shortage of trailers in France affected entry-level southern wines like Merlot and Pays d’Oc. The cost of dry goods has gone up a lot all over Europe – doubled in some cases – that’s bottles, labels, screwcaps and cardboard boxes.’
‘Tell us something we don’t know,’ said Sudoku.
‘Happy to! The new DVS2020 standards for HGVs are now in force. Any lorry coming over from Europe has to have this new Direct Vision Standard equipment fitted – it costs thousands – or else pay a fine of £550 a day. Lots of European freighters are deciding the delays and the costs are just not worth it, and refusing to ship goods into the UK.’
‘You seem to have plenty of wine here,’ I observed. ‘Sure you’re not just one of these repleepers?’
‘I’ve got plenty of wine, but not necessarily what the public wants. I’ve got loads of Furmint and Grenache and Ugni Blanc, but is anyone going to buy those instead of their old favourites? I could go bust over Brexit! What creative accounting system can I use to stop that happening?’
Sudoku frowned, then held a finger of triumph in the air. ‘Double-entry, my dear book-keeper.’
Arthur Conan Doyle, author of the Sherlock Holmes stories, was born in Edinburgh on 22nd May 1959. Ten days later James Kirkness opened his wine shop on Broad Street, Kirkwall. Coincidence? An investigation is surely called for.
. . .
This diary appeared in The Orcadian on 15th July. Other diaries continue to appear weekly. I am posting them in this blog a few days after each newspaper appearance, with added illustrations., and occasional small corrections or additions.