The accused A short story by Charles Roberts

 

          “Go in and take a seat.”  The Inspector said holding the door open.

          “Thank you, what’s this all about?”  Dave asked entering the room and going over to a chair at the far side of a metal topped table which took up the centre of the room.  He looked round and saw that it had four chairs and that was the only furniture in the room.  There were two microphones mounted at the end of the table from the door and a large mirror on the wall at the end of the room nearest the microphones.

          “I’d like to ask a few questions about your where-about this evening.”  The Inspector said following him into the room and pulling a chair out from under the nearside of the table

          “Right!  Easy enough to answer, but why?”  Dave said sitting down.

          “I’ll ask the questions if you don’t mind and I need some background first.”

          “Sure, fire away.  What do you want to know?”

          “How long have you lived here?”  The Inspector asked taking a pen out from the inside pocket of his jacket.

          “Nine days,” Dave looked as his watch, “five hours and twenty three minutes, if you want to be precise.”

          “Where were you going this evening?”  The Inspector asked taking a small pad out of the right jacket pocket and putting it on the table in front of him, then making a note of what Dave had just said.

          “You should know, you pulled me out of there.”

          “Let’s cut the sarcasm shall we?”

          “I was being shown the workshop where I could rent a space if I bought a car which needed something doing to it.”  Dave replied leaning back in the chair.

          “Is that the only reason you were going up there?”

          “It is.  What is this all about?”

          “In a bit.  Are you married?”

          “No!”

          “Got a girlfriend?”

          “No!  I’ve only been here for nine days I’ve told you that.”

          “Slow worker are you?”

          “Yes I am, seeing as I’ve been settling in and unpacking if you must know.”

          “Where were you before you came here?  You look to have a good tan.”

          “I was working in the Middle East.”

          “Any women where you were?”

          “No.  Men only.”

          “How long were you there?”

          “Twelve years.”

          “Twelve years without a woman’s company.  Must have been pretty lonely at times.” 

          “We had the work, twelve hour shifts, a month on days and a month on nights.  It didn’t give me much time for thought of the opposite sex.”

          “For the whole, how long was it?  Twelve years!”

          “I came home once or twice for a month at a time.”

          “What was it once or twice?  But you didn’t find any girls you fancied during that month.”

          “Three times actually.  I found them, but when they found out that I was going back they didn’t want to know anymore.”

          “Why did you come to this area?  What attracted you?”

          “It seemed as good a place as any, and the property prices.”

          “That the only reason?”

          “Yes.  Plus I worked with a chap who came from this area and he told me how nice it was, how the pace of life wasn’t like a rat race and there were jobs in the area, the right sort of jobs.  Look where are you going with this?  Why did you bring me in here?”

          “I’ll get to that in time, I just want to know a little more about you first.  Where are you from originally?”

          Dave simply looked at the Inspector wondering what was going on and why he had been brought into the police station in the first place.  All he had been doing was going with a chap from work to look at a number of workshops in an old aircraft hangar anyone could rent for a short while if they were repairing or renovating a vehicle.  Dave hadn't bought a car yet, but he was thinking about buying one and he didn’t really fancy a new or modern soulless car because they all looked the same.

          “Cat got your tongue?”  The Inspector asked looking directly at Dave and clicked his pen.

          “No!  I’m just wondering where this is going.  I was minding my own business, thinking about what sort of car I would buy and where I could take it to repair or renovate it when you turn up and drag me down here without an explanation and start to interrogate me.  I really don’t feel like answering any more of your questions until you tell me what is going on, and why you have dragged me down here.”

“I’ll come to that in a bit, all I am trying to do now is get some background information on you Dave, you don’t mind my calling you Dave do you?”

“It is my name.  What do I call you?  Do you have a name?”

“I do, but Inspector will do for now.”

“Rather formal, but all right.  Are you going to tell me why you pulled me out of a very public place, with everyone looking at me, and brought me down here?”

“Where are you from originally Dave?”

“Back to the questions without an explanation.  If it so important to you.  I was born in Bournemouth, I lived most of my childhood in that town, went to college and gained the necessary qualifications to be able to do the job I have been doing overseas.”

“Right!” the Inspector said jotting some notes down on his pad.  “And you went to the Middle East for a number of years, in a place where there wasn’t any women of any sort and then you came back here,” he checked his notebook, “nine days ago.  Correct?”

“Correct!  Why is it so important that there weren’t any women where I worked?  What have women got to do with all this?”

“Don’t you like women, Dave?”

“Of course I do!  What do you take me for?”  He said angrily

“All right.  No need to get shirty.”

“How would you feel if all this had happened to you?  If you were there minding your own business and suddenly a hairy arsed copper comes in and drags you out in front of god knows how many people without any explanation.”

“Pretty pissed off if it was me, but it’s not me is it?  It’s you.”  I simply looked at him wondering where the hell this was going.  “Like girls do you?”

“I like women, yes.”

“I mean little girls.”

“What are you implying?”

“How did you get up to the workshops if you don’t have a car?”

“My work colleague took me up in his car.”

“So he is in on it too, he is helping you.”

“Yes! In so much as to showing me around, showing me where everything is.”

“So it’s the two of you together.  Does he like little girls?”

“Well seeing as he has two of his own, I suppose that he must, but why don’t you ask him, I’ve only known him and his family for eight days.”

“You said that you’d been here for nine days.”

“I only started work eight days ago, and that’s when I met him and he took me home to meet his family and have a meal with them.  Now what is all this about?”

“Did you see anyone when you drove up to the workshops?”

“Like who?”

“Anyone!  Walking down the street for instance.”

“Not that I can recall.  We were busy talking about the workshop and what they allowed you to do there, the cost of renting a space, things like that.”

“So if you’d have seen a young girl walking along the street you wouldn’t have seen her?”

“I don’t know.  I don’t recall seeing anyone from the time he picked me up from the house until….. Now you come to mention it, there was someone walking along the street.”

“Now we’re getting somewhere.  Well carry on.”

“There was a young woman.”

“Ah!  Yes!”

“Pushing a wheelchair with an old person in it, and a middle aged man walking his dog; and the dog was taking a crap on the pavement if I recall correctly; and I saw the chap take a bag out of his trouser pocket, no doubt to pick up after his dog.”

“Are you taking the piss?”

“No it was definitely a shit it was having.”

“So you say that you didn’t see a young girl walking along the street as you drove, sorry, were driven down it to the workshops.”

“Yes.  If I had seen such a girl I would have told you.  Now what is all this about?”

He put his elbows on the table, leaning forward, “I don’t believe you.”

“And I couldn’t give a shit.” I said angrily.

Suddenly the telephone rang, he answered.  “Would you mind waiting outside while I take this?”  I left the room and as I left I heard him say ‘all right go ahead.’  A few minutes later he called me back into the room and asked me to sit again.  “Sorry about that sir,” he started; his tone completely different than before the ‘phone call.  “I am sorry to have bothered you, you can go.”

“Are you going to tell me what all this was about?”

“All right; I suppose you have a right to an answer.  A young girl, sixteen years old, was walking down that street when she noticed a car following her, the same make, model, and colour, as your friends’ car.”

“So you jumped to the conclusion that as I was new to the area, have a damn good tan, and we were driving down that street at the same, or close to the same time as she was, then it must have been me stalking her.”

“Basically, yes sir.  We located the other car about half a mile from the workshops where he was following another young girl.  She was near her home and ran to make the ‘phone call.  Luckily a patrol car was in the vicinity and caught him.  Again I am sorry if I caused you any embarrassment and inconvenience.  Can I drop you anywhere?” he asked as he stood.

“Thank you, but no.  My friend is outside and he will take me home.”  I left the police station leaving the inspector with a slightly red face after his mistake.