Liar Liar

54

Lifting the police cordon, he entered the site, his boots crunching satisfyingly on the charred bits of wood that littered the former showroom. Just a day ago, this place had been a popular destination for couples and families seeking a new sofa, dining table or king-size bed. The guys who ran this place must have been making money hand over fist, but not any more. The vast building had gone up in flames and in the early hours of this morning the roof had eventually come down – the final majestic act of destruction ensuring that everything below would be consumed as well.

He had chosen his moment carefully. Deborah Parks had left the site rather suddenly following a phone call and the rest of her team had taken advantage of this to nip off for a cup of tea. There was only one uniformed police officer and he was soon talked round. This was too good an opportunity to miss.

He felt his heart beating faster as he made his way across the deserted space. It looked otherworldly, like a scene of devastation on another planet – you seldom got to see fires on this scale. Pulling the camera from his bag, he executed a slow pan. Right to left, then back again, slow and steady, missing nothing.

Clicking it off, he stowed it back in his bag and pulled a bin liner from his pocket. Encasing his hands in sterile gloves, he bent down, sifting through the burnt detritus on the surface, looking for the good stuff. Truth be told, it wasn’t such fertile ground as a domestic property, with all the family photos and trinkets, but these larger sites could sometimes surprise you and it obliged now. Buried beneath the ash and protected by a solid metal door were the remnants of a banner poster, advertising a recent flash sale. You could still make out ‘Everything must go’ plumb in the centre. He liked that, given the context, and slipped it quickly in his bag.

‘Can I help you?’

He hadn’t heard anyone approaching and froze momentarily – his adrenaline spiking – before he gathered himself and rose to face his interrogator. It was one of Parks’s crew – where the bloody hell had he sprung from?

‘This is a sealed site. Members of the public are not allowed in here.’

‘It’s ok, mate,’ he replied calmly. ‘I’m the advance guard. I was told you needed some help, shifting fire-damaged obstacles.’

‘And you are?’

‘Hants Fire and Rescue,’ he said confidently, holding up his ID for inspection. ‘It’s supposed to be my day off, but you know firemen…’ He paused briefly before concluding:

‘We’re always happy to help.’