gary.newelluk
05-27-2014, 07:00 PM
I wrote this short story when I received a parking ticket from one of those dodgy private parking companies. This is just the first part, there are more parts to come if you like it.
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As Detective Inspector Alex Cartwright and Detective Sergeant Paul Stone re-entered the room, Greg Stafford, the court appointed solicitor wondered how long they were going to keep questioning his latest client.
It was now two thirty in the afternoon. In just four hours time Greg had a plane to catch. For months he had planned this holiday and he thought his luck was in when his friend Peter had mentioned that his sister would be coming on their summer holiday with them to Majorca.
Greg had been chasing the beautiful Stacey for three years and now he was going to be getting to spend two weeks in her company. Many times he had imagined what she would look like in a bikini and now he would finally find out.
Surely these two officers can’t continue questioning his client. How could they possibly believe he was guilty of anything other than sheer stupidity. It was an accident. A crazy bizarre accident. Nobody can kill a traffic warden deliberately by throwing a flaming deep fat frier out of a first floor window can they?
As he gazed into the distance thinking about his holiday plans Detective Inspector Cartwright started the tape.
“Interview resumed on 14th June 2013, present in the room are Detective Inspector Alexandra Cartwright, Detective Inspector Paul Stone, Simon Naylor and his solicitor Greg Stafford”.
For Simon Naylor it had all been a bit of an adventure. He had been in custody now for almost a day but he didn’t mind one bit. At least the female detective wanted to listen to him talk, even if it was to find out whether he had deliberately killed a traffic warden.
She wasn’t conventionally pretty but with her auburn hair, green eyes and long legs she had a way of making you want to talk.
Simon had talked. He had talked at great length about how it came to be that the middle aged traffic warden had met his demise. The police officers just weren’t happy with his responses. For some reason they couldn’t accept that it had been an accident.
“Now Simon, we have been here a long time but we are going to need you to go over your statement again. This time we want more detail. So let’s start at the beginning”.
As he listened to her words Simon snapped out of his daydream and looked across at his solicitor. Motionless. The court appointed solicitor had been next to useless thus far.
“As I told you I went home and turned on the deep fat frier, it caught fire”.
“How did it catch fire?” asked Detective Sergeant Stone. His face wore the look of somebody who had been on the wrong end of a fist too many times.
Simon had generally ignored the male Sergeant and always seemed to wait for the superior officer to ask the same question. This fact hadn’t gone unnoticed by DS Stone and he wasn’t happy.
“Look, I don’t know what you think you are gaining by ignoring my questions but one way or another we are going to get to the bottom of this. If you want to be here for another 24 hours then you are going the right way about it”.
At this point Greg Stafford suddenly snapped to life astounding everyone in the room including himself.
“Look. My client has been more than co-operative. This whole thing is quite clearly a freak accident and unless you think you can persuade a court of law that somebody committed murder by throwing a burning electrical device out of a window then you might want to think about wrapping this up and letting us get out of here”.
Of course Greg couldn’t particularly care less about whether his client was or wasn’t guilty. Greg had picked up the odd parking ticket. One less traffic warden was certainly no loss. Greg’s only motivation for leaving the police station was to get on the train home to pick up his suitcase.
“Ok, Simon” said Alexandra Cartwright, “tell me again what time did you get home yesterday”
“Just after 5“
“Where had you been?”
“I work in London, it takes an hour on the train to get home”.
“Your home is how far from the station?”
“About 3 miles”.
“How do you get from the station to your house?”
“I drive”
“Where do you park your car?”
“On a side street just up from the station, Princes Road”
“Ok. So you drove home from the station and then what?”
“I went into my house, checked the post and went into the kitchen to make tea”.
“Do you live alone?”
“Yes, since my wife left me last year”.
“Carry on, what happened next?”.
“I went into the kitchen, turned on the deep fat frier and then went and got changed out of my work clothes”.
“What did you have for tea?”. This question came from DS Stone rather than Alex Cartwright. This had happened frequently throughout the interview process. He said nothing for ages and then chipped in when he thought he could catch Simon out.
“I ended up not having tea. Well not until I received a sandwich here, late last night.”
“Ok what were you planning to have for tea?”
“I had some frozen chicken drumsticks. I was planning on having them with chips”.
Since his wife had left him, Simon had lived on a diet of deep fried food and microwave meals. The flat had become a little bit dull looking and was in desperate need of a woman’s touch. Simon had put on a few pounds in weight but despite his unhealthy existence he was still just over 10 stone in weight.
“When did you notice there was a fire?”
“After getting changed. I spent a couple of minutes watching the news on the television. Smoke started drifting through from the kitchen. I thought the oil was maybe just a little hot but when I entered the kitchen I could see that the frier had actually caught fire”.
Simon waited for the next question but instead the two officers waited for him to continue. Simon looked to his left where his solicitor was sitting, almost comatose in his seat.
“With the frier on fire I made a decision that the best way of removing the fire was to get it out of the house.”
“How on earth did you think that throwing a flaming electrical device out of a first floor window was in any way acceptable?” asked DS Stone
“I don’t know really. I wasn’t really thinking. I just knew that I didn’t want to burn to death and I didn’t want to let the flat burn. I had seen those adverts on the television when I was younger about throwing a damp towel over the top but those adverts were all about chip pans on a hob not electrical chip pans. I didn’t have a fire extinguisher. I panicked a bit.”
“So what did you do next?” asked Alex Cartwright..
“I opened the kitchen window as wide as possible. I then unplugged the deep fat frier. It was sat on a pink plastic tray that my wife had left behind so it was easy to pick up. At first I tried with bare hands but it was too hot so I used a pair of oven gloves to pick up the tray. I then very carefully carried the tray to the window. It was so hot. I could feel my eyebrows begin to singe.”
Everyone else in the room was intently listening to the story except for the court appointed solicitor who seemed to be living in a parallel universe.
“When my arms were out of the window I let go of the frier.”
“Did you see what happened next?” asked Alex.
“Yes. It was a big mistake as well. When the frier hit the ground it caused a massive fireball and I watched as it climbed higher and higher and I just managed to duck my head inside the window before it reached me.”
“Did you know there was anyone underneath when you threw the appliance?”
“No of course not. How could I have? It was just a spare of the moment decision”.
“So you were unaware that Mr Steel, a traffic warden, was walking past at that exact moment?”
“Yes, I mean no. I mean I didn’t know he was there”.
“Did you know Mr Steel?”
“No, I don’t think so”.
“For the benefit of the tape I am now showing Mr Naylor a photo of the victim”.
Simon became suddenly aware that he did know the victim. He was also aware that the lady police officer had seen his recognition.
“I will ask you again Mr Naylor. Did you know the victim?”
“Yes”.
--------------------------------------------------------------
As Detective Inspector Alex Cartwright and Detective Sergeant Paul Stone re-entered the room, Greg Stafford, the court appointed solicitor wondered how long they were going to keep questioning his latest client.
It was now two thirty in the afternoon. In just four hours time Greg had a plane to catch. For months he had planned this holiday and he thought his luck was in when his friend Peter had mentioned that his sister would be coming on their summer holiday with them to Majorca.
Greg had been chasing the beautiful Stacey for three years and now he was going to be getting to spend two weeks in her company. Many times he had imagined what she would look like in a bikini and now he would finally find out.
Surely these two officers can’t continue questioning his client. How could they possibly believe he was guilty of anything other than sheer stupidity. It was an accident. A crazy bizarre accident. Nobody can kill a traffic warden deliberately by throwing a flaming deep fat frier out of a first floor window can they?
As he gazed into the distance thinking about his holiday plans Detective Inspector Cartwright started the tape.
“Interview resumed on 14th June 2013, present in the room are Detective Inspector Alexandra Cartwright, Detective Inspector Paul Stone, Simon Naylor and his solicitor Greg Stafford”.
For Simon Naylor it had all been a bit of an adventure. He had been in custody now for almost a day but he didn’t mind one bit. At least the female detective wanted to listen to him talk, even if it was to find out whether he had deliberately killed a traffic warden.
She wasn’t conventionally pretty but with her auburn hair, green eyes and long legs she had a way of making you want to talk.
Simon had talked. He had talked at great length about how it came to be that the middle aged traffic warden had met his demise. The police officers just weren’t happy with his responses. For some reason they couldn’t accept that it had been an accident.
“Now Simon, we have been here a long time but we are going to need you to go over your statement again. This time we want more detail. So let’s start at the beginning”.
As he listened to her words Simon snapped out of his daydream and looked across at his solicitor. Motionless. The court appointed solicitor had been next to useless thus far.
“As I told you I went home and turned on the deep fat frier, it caught fire”.
“How did it catch fire?” asked Detective Sergeant Stone. His face wore the look of somebody who had been on the wrong end of a fist too many times.
Simon had generally ignored the male Sergeant and always seemed to wait for the superior officer to ask the same question. This fact hadn’t gone unnoticed by DS Stone and he wasn’t happy.
“Look, I don’t know what you think you are gaining by ignoring my questions but one way or another we are going to get to the bottom of this. If you want to be here for another 24 hours then you are going the right way about it”.
At this point Greg Stafford suddenly snapped to life astounding everyone in the room including himself.
“Look. My client has been more than co-operative. This whole thing is quite clearly a freak accident and unless you think you can persuade a court of law that somebody committed murder by throwing a burning electrical device out of a window then you might want to think about wrapping this up and letting us get out of here”.
Of course Greg couldn’t particularly care less about whether his client was or wasn’t guilty. Greg had picked up the odd parking ticket. One less traffic warden was certainly no loss. Greg’s only motivation for leaving the police station was to get on the train home to pick up his suitcase.
“Ok, Simon” said Alexandra Cartwright, “tell me again what time did you get home yesterday”
“Just after 5“
“Where had you been?”
“I work in London, it takes an hour on the train to get home”.
“Your home is how far from the station?”
“About 3 miles”.
“How do you get from the station to your house?”
“I drive”
“Where do you park your car?”
“On a side street just up from the station, Princes Road”
“Ok. So you drove home from the station and then what?”
“I went into my house, checked the post and went into the kitchen to make tea”.
“Do you live alone?”
“Yes, since my wife left me last year”.
“Carry on, what happened next?”.
“I went into the kitchen, turned on the deep fat frier and then went and got changed out of my work clothes”.
“What did you have for tea?”. This question came from DS Stone rather than Alex Cartwright. This had happened frequently throughout the interview process. He said nothing for ages and then chipped in when he thought he could catch Simon out.
“I ended up not having tea. Well not until I received a sandwich here, late last night.”
“Ok what were you planning to have for tea?”
“I had some frozen chicken drumsticks. I was planning on having them with chips”.
Since his wife had left him, Simon had lived on a diet of deep fried food and microwave meals. The flat had become a little bit dull looking and was in desperate need of a woman’s touch. Simon had put on a few pounds in weight but despite his unhealthy existence he was still just over 10 stone in weight.
“When did you notice there was a fire?”
“After getting changed. I spent a couple of minutes watching the news on the television. Smoke started drifting through from the kitchen. I thought the oil was maybe just a little hot but when I entered the kitchen I could see that the frier had actually caught fire”.
Simon waited for the next question but instead the two officers waited for him to continue. Simon looked to his left where his solicitor was sitting, almost comatose in his seat.
“With the frier on fire I made a decision that the best way of removing the fire was to get it out of the house.”
“How on earth did you think that throwing a flaming electrical device out of a first floor window was in any way acceptable?” asked DS Stone
“I don’t know really. I wasn’t really thinking. I just knew that I didn’t want to burn to death and I didn’t want to let the flat burn. I had seen those adverts on the television when I was younger about throwing a damp towel over the top but those adverts were all about chip pans on a hob not electrical chip pans. I didn’t have a fire extinguisher. I panicked a bit.”
“So what did you do next?” asked Alex Cartwright..
“I opened the kitchen window as wide as possible. I then unplugged the deep fat frier. It was sat on a pink plastic tray that my wife had left behind so it was easy to pick up. At first I tried with bare hands but it was too hot so I used a pair of oven gloves to pick up the tray. I then very carefully carried the tray to the window. It was so hot. I could feel my eyebrows begin to singe.”
Everyone else in the room was intently listening to the story except for the court appointed solicitor who seemed to be living in a parallel universe.
“When my arms were out of the window I let go of the frier.”
“Did you see what happened next?” asked Alex.
“Yes. It was a big mistake as well. When the frier hit the ground it caused a massive fireball and I watched as it climbed higher and higher and I just managed to duck my head inside the window before it reached me.”
“Did you know there was anyone underneath when you threw the appliance?”
“No of course not. How could I have? It was just a spare of the moment decision”.
“So you were unaware that Mr Steel, a traffic warden, was walking past at that exact moment?”
“Yes, I mean no. I mean I didn’t know he was there”.
“Did you know Mr Steel?”
“No, I don’t think so”.
“For the benefit of the tape I am now showing Mr Naylor a photo of the victim”.
Simon became suddenly aware that he did know the victim. He was also aware that the lady police officer had seen his recognition.
“I will ask you again Mr Naylor. Did you know the victim?”
“Yes”.