Diary of a Shopkeeper, 7th July 2024
Essential summer fashion, July 2024
It was a quiet day in the offices of Police West Mainland.
‘I must pay the phone bill,’ mused Inspector Chief Sudoku. ‘It’s been a month since we got cut off and someone might be trying to call us.’
‘Tough times tough choices,’ said Sergeant Assistant Roxy, ‘My choice would be to pay the hydro. With all the lights off, the public see dark windows and think there’s no one in. We haven’t had a visitor for weeks.’
Sudoku sipped his latest coffee obsession: Black Hole Espresso, strong enough to suck in all rational thought for light years around.
‘The lack of interruptions is ideal,’ he said. ‘It lets us concentrate on the big case of the moment.’
‘You mean…’ said Roxy.
‘Perxactly,’ said Sudoku. ‘That one there.’ And he nodded towards the Samsonite D’lite 4 Wheel 78cm Suitcase in Pine Green in the corner, with its 118-litre capacity and EZ-Wipe fabric finish. ‘Whichever tourist left that at the pierhead during the folk festival is surely getting short of clean underwear by now. It’s only a matter of time before they ring us asking if we have it.’
Roxy’s glamourous eyebrows puckered, anxiously. ‘But our phone’s not working.’
Sudoku crushed the paper coffee cup in his fist. ‘Damn and blast!’ he cried. ‘I should have finished the espresso before I did that. Anyway, there’s more important things to worry about than tourists with smelly socks. I’m referring to…The Case of the Missing Summer.’
Roxy typed furiously at her keyboard for half a minute. ‘Still no update from forensics,’ she said. ‘With no electricity our internet’s awfully slow. In fact, non-existent. And my computer isn’t working.’
Sudoku nodded grimly, and stuck out his unshaven jaw, also grimly. ‘It’s time, Sergeant Assistant,’ he said grimly, ‘For this old dog to teach you young whippersnapper some old-fashioned police tricks. Get your coat.’
‘Have I pulled?’ said Roxy, anxiously. ‘I hope not.’
‘No, but it’s nippy out,’ said Sudoku. ‘And we’re going to do some old-fashioned door knocking.’
‘Ooh, I love an old-fashioned door!’ exclaimed Roxy. ‘I got one from an architectural salvage yard in Nairn. It’s a lovely oak frame with chamfered panels, inset stained glass and brass door furniture. I’m planning to fit it on my fridge.’
‘It’s not the doors that are old fashioned,’ said Sudoku, ‘It’s the knocking. Let me demonstrate.’
He opened his notebook, grabbed a pen, and quickly sketched a few lines. ‘Wish I had a photo fit, but this’ll have to do,’ he said. He rapped a tattoo on the desk with his knuckles: LOVE with his left hand, HATE with his right hand, in Morse code.
Roxy mimed turning a key in a lock, taking off a safety chain, lifting a security bar, keying four digits into an alarm pad, and opening a door.
‘Good morning madam,’ said Sudoku. ‘Please have a look at this.’ He held out his drawing.
‘It’s a circle,’ said Roxy, ‘With a smiley face, and sticky up hair and a beard.’
‘That’s not hair and a beard,’ said Sudoku, ‘It’s rays. Rays of light. This is the sun.’
‘Ah! I remember that! Haven’t seen it for a while though.’
‘We’ve had a report it’s missing,’ said Sudoku, ‘and we’re trying to trace anyone who’s seen it recently.’ He studied Roxy closely, then frowned. ‘Judging by the nut-brown hue of your forehead and cheekbones, madam, it appears to me that you’ve had recent contact with the sun’s rays, if not the sun itself.’
Roxy blushed, and stammered, ‘You’ve got it all wrong, Inspector Chief. I haven’t seen the sun for months, the same as everyone else.’
He thumped his fist down on the desk. ‘How can you deny it despite all the evidence? Your face gives you away!’
‘There’s a simple explanation,’ said Roxy. ‘I’ve been up to the tanning salon in Hatston. They do such a good job. It’s like you’ve been in Spain for a week even if you’ve never left Kirkwall.’
Sudoku leant back in his seat, arms folded, with a look of triumph. ‘Ah ha! So there’s an imposter going around posing as the sun? And you have contact with the perpetrator of this identity theft? We’ve got you banged to rights, missy. I must ask you to accompany me to the station.’
Roxy’s mouth fell open in glamourous but anxious astonishment. ‘But we’re already in the station,’ she said.
‘So we are,’ said Sudoku. ‘It’s so dark I couldn’t see. Electricity, my dear Roxy.’
‘Another puzzle solved, Sudoku.’
Sudoku nodded with satisfaction. ‘Case closed,’ he said.
This diary was written on Sunday 7th July. The following day dawned sunny, still, and blue-skied: summer had miraculously appeared, making this column out of date before it was even published. Luckily for Sudoku and Roxy, normal 2024 service was resumed within 24 hours, with a return to grey skies, drizzle and north wind. So by the time this story was published in The Orcadian on 11th July 2024, it was topical once again. Whew, what a non-scorcher.
A new diary appears weekly. I post them in this blog a few days after each newspaper appearance, with added illustrations, and occasional small corrections or additions.