The mean streets of Kirkwall have been peaceful recently, and I haven’t seen Police West Mainland’s finest, Detective Chief Sudoku, in months. In fact, leafing back through my scrapbook of Shopkeeper’s Diaries (I knew they’d come in useful eventually) I see it was September that we last heard from Sudoku. And that was only because he’d managed to break a tooth on a boiled egg. The last time he was in the papers for investigating a serious case was in June 2022, at the time of the notorious Cheesegate report which did so much to hasten the departure of Boris Johnson from Downing Street. But since then Sudoku seems to have departed too.

This morning Sudoku’s indispensable sidekick, Sergeant Assistant Roxy, pushed open the shop door. I waited a second for her boss to follow her in, but the door swung shut behind her. This was unusual. The fact that she looked glamorous but also anxious was completely normal for every Sergeant Assistant I’ve ever met. Her eyes darted around the shop, as she checked out the wine, the beer and the gin.

‘Can I help you find anything?’ I said.

‘I hope so,’ she said. ‘Are we alone?’

‘I was alone till you came in,’ I said. ‘Now there’s two of us.’

‘This is a matter of the utmost secrecy,’ she said.

‘I won’t tell anyone,’ I whispered. ‘Unless I maybe mention it in my column in the paper.’

‘Good,’ she said, ‘No one reads that rubbish. The secret is ours,’

‘So what is it you’re looking for?’ I said.

‘Not what,’ said Roxy, ‘Who. Who am I looking for?’

‘I don’t know,’ I said. ‘You tell me.’

‘It’s Sudoku,’ she said. ‘He’s gone AWOL. It’s not unusual for him to disappear for a few days if something important comes up. Like a new coffee blend from that roastery up in Hatston. He won’t rest till he’s investigated it from every angle: espresso, cappuccino, flat white – even machoatto.’

‘Don’t you mean macchiato?’

‘No, macho-atto. It’s a police thing: triple espresso with a shot of testosterone. Very popular in the Met, I hear.’

‘So you’ve cased all the coffee joints and he’s not been seen?’

‘Correct. And all the fatty cuttie fencers. And every pusher between here and Pierowall that sells pattie suppers.’ She shook her head. ‘They haven’t seen him for weeks: profits have plunged.’

‘Any clues at all? Anything unusual he was saying or doing before he disappeared.’

She frowned. ‘Hmm, there was…no, it’s probably nothing.’

‘Come on Sergeant,’ I said. ‘Spit it out.’

‘Sorry,’ she said, holding a paper hanky to her lips, ‘I forgot how much you hate chewing gum. It was just this: in the days before he disappeared, parcels started appearing on his desk. Pink leotards, blonde wigs, great lengths of taffeta fabric.’

‘What colour?’

‘That was pink too,’ she said. ‘As was the nail polish he started wearing.’

‘Ah ha!’ I cried. ‘I might just have it. Did you see the Shopping Week floats last night?’

‘I did,’ she said. ‘I was tasked with maintaining good taste and public decency. Quite a job in Stromness at the best of times.’

‘Did you not see a considerable quantity of pink leotards, blonde wigs, and pink taffeta?’

‘You’re right!’ she exclaimed. ‘The whole town went Barbie crazy.’

‘I could be wrong,’ I said, ‘But I don’t think every one of those Barbies was of the female persuasion.’

‘You mean…’

‘I mean: Chief Inspector Sudoku has gone undercover in Stromness. Deep undercover. We can at least narrow down his whereabouts last night to swinging on a pink swing, sliding down a pink chute, driving in a pink car, or sailing in a pink boat. Or serving burgers from a pink barbecue. Or zooming up and down in a pink load-all on the front of a green tractor. All in a pink leotard, blonde wig and pink taffeta dress.’

‘He always wanted to be in plain clothes,’ said Roxy.

This diary appeared in The Orcadian on 26th July 2023. 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.

Diary of a Shopkeeper, 23rd July