Diary of a Shopkeeper, 16th January

Detective Chief Sudoku drained his coffee to the dregs. It was his third double espresso of the day, and he wasn’t out of his pyjamas yet.

‘Boss,’ said Sergeant Assistant Roxy, ‘You know how Commissioner Mortis feels about you coming to work dressed like that.’

‘It’s all right for you, looking glamorous but anxious,’ said Sudoku, ‘I don’t have time to worry about details like getting dressed in the morning. Not when there’s a case as big as this on my hands.’

‘Oh, sorry,’ called Gilly, the gruff but friendly Desk Sergeant, from across the squad room. ‘I meant to get that shifted.’ He came rushing over and lifted the enormous suitcase off Sudoku’s desk and onto the floor. It rattled a little as he set it down. The Detective Chief lifted his hands in the air and wiggled his flattened fingers.

‘DNA samples heading for Aberdeen,’ explicated Gilly. ‘Everything’s on hold till we get the results back.’

‘When’ll that be?’ said Roxy, anxiously.

‘Probably about ten minutes from the end of the final episode,’ said Gilly, gruffly.

‘It’s a long time since I’ve been asked to conduct an investigation of such maggot-tude,’ said Sudoku.

‘Magnitude,’ said Roxy.

‘Bless you,’ said Gilly.

‘This started off as big as it could be,’ said Sudoku, ‘And it gets bigger every day. How do you explain that? It’s against the laws of physics. But it’s Commissioner Mortis’s personal order, so there’s no avoiding it.’

‘Remind me, boss,’ said Roxy, ‘What are we trying to avoid?’

‘Mortis wants a through, independent investigation,’ said Sudoku. ‘Was there an illegal Christmas party?’

‘Where?’ said Roxy.

Sudoku fixed her with a beady eye. ‘In this very office,’ he said, grimly. ‘And we’re going to start by having a good tidy up, otherwise we won’t be able to find any evidence. Gilly, take down all those paper chains: they’re needed in the cells.’

‘Yes sir.’

‘And Roxy, put that Christmas tree through the shredder. Like in that film, Fargo.’

‘Yes boss.’

‘And take that paper hat off your head. You’ve had it on for three weeks.’

‘I’m going for the record, boss.’

‘We don’t have time to read a newspaper. There’s an investigation to investigate.’

‘Boss,’ shouted Gilly from across the room, ‘Something smells fishy, and it’s coming from over here.’

With all the alacrity Police West Mainland are renowned for, Sudoku and Roxy bounded over towards their colleague. Gilly reached out and slowly, slowly, opened the door of the office fridge.

‘Aw! What a guff!’ cried Roxy.

‘It’s that smoked salmon,’ said Gilly, ‘There’s hairy mould growing on it.’

‘Don’t touch,’ said Sudoku, ‘We’ll have to get forensics to handle it. Or at least a pair of Marigolds. And what are those disgusting objects? Is it evidence from that dog-fouling case last year?’

‘I think,’ said Roxy, ‘those are left over sausage rolls from the work event we had at the end of December.’

‘Blast it,’ cried Sudoku, ‘There are so many red herrings in this case!’

‘Sorry,’ said Gilly. ‘I thought it was salmon.’

‘Enough!’ cried Sudoku. ‘Throw a cordon round this whole room. No one leaves till we find out exactly who was at the party, what we were eating, and what we were drinking.’

As he turned on his heel he tripped over Gilly’s giant suitcase of DNA samples, sending it crashing on its side, and its lid flipping open. Inside were dozens of empty wine, beer, and whisky bottles. There was a stunned silence.

‘At least we know what we were drinking,’ said Roxy.

Gilly was ashen faced. ‘So what did I chuck into the recycling this morning?’

This diary appeared in The Orcadian on 19th January. A new one appears weekly. I post them in this blog a few days after each newspaper appearance, with added illustrations., and occasional small corrections or additions.