Fire service 

The Longbarrow Tea Rooms are a Silbury institution. Situated just west of the midpoint along one of England’s widest high streets, it does not attract regular travellers going through the town on their way to Brigstow or to London. The coaches that normally have a twenty minute stopover in the High Street tend to direct their occupants to the much cheaper coffee bar at the Regency Hotel on the other side of the High Street. 

Those frequenting the Longbarrow Tea Rooms arrive by car, generally of the larger sort, and sometimes driven by a chauffeuse. Business is best at the beginning and end of terms at Silbury College, when parents drop off or pick up their charges, also during the annual sports day, and occasionally at the time of particular rugby or cricket matches played against other prominent public schools.  

For all the Longbarrow’s notoriety outside of Silbury it is not for all that a part of the town per se. Most Silburians would go somewhere else for their morning or afternoon tea or coffee, excepting, of course, some of Silbury’s more prominent, and richer, families. 

On this summer evening there was quite a crowd of Silburians at the Longbarrow, but they were outside rather than sitting in the tea rooms themselves, which had closed four hours earlier. Not only was the Longbarrow closed; it was on fire. Almost the entire upper storey was engulfed in flames, and Sibury’s firewomen were busy tackling the blaze, assisted by engines dispatched from nearby Sowdon. The crowd was keen to see exactly what was going on but were being confined to the northern side of the High Street by Silbury’s full contingent of police officers commanded by Inspector Fatima Dieng. They in turn were augmented by others sent, at Fatima’s request, by the County Constabulary. In addition to the crowd, they had also to attend to traffic control. The High Street had been closed to all but vehicles of the County Fire and Rescue Service. Others were now being redirected along Mable Lane. 

As well as general interest in the spectacle of such a large fire, there was quite a bit of speculation about its cause. Some were saying that the owners of the Longbarrow deserved this; they were not a part of the town, only caring for Colleegies. Others were saying that this was nonsense, and those saying it should just shut up. 

Fatima had no opinion one way or the other and knew that she should focus only on the logistics of the moment until she had had a chance to learn about all that had happened from the Chief Fire Officer and the police’s own forensic scientists. 

The fire was eventually put out around midnight, with most of the crowds dispersing somewhat before. The building was substantially gutted. The outer walls remained in place on the ground floor but had been severely damaged on the upper storey. The High Street remained closed to traffic until six o’clock the next morning, when most of the debris had been cleared off the street itself. The pavement on the southern side of the High Street was closed to pedestrians for twenty yards each side of the Longbarrow. 

The following morning Fatima inspected the wreckage of the Longbarrow along with Chief Fire Officer Hakimah Bhutto. They were joined by Sergeant Joyce Banda and Constable Nguyen Chi Man. They were able to go inside the building provided that they wore protective clothing and helmets, made available to them by the Silbury Fire Brigade. The flooring, which was made of wooden planks, was mostly still intact, though it was scorched in a number of places, where burning embers had fallen from the upper storey. The ceiling had in most cases completely disappeared, so that, when they looked up, they could see clear blue sky on this pleasant sunny day. 

Ever eager to impress, Sergeant Banda was setting out her theory of what had happened: “Obviously one of the customers had left a lighted cigarette in one of the ashtrays, and this hadn’t gone out when the staff cleaned up for the night. It went into a bin and started the fire. I read that this is the most common cause of fires in public buildings in England and Wales. We should really think about regulations banning smoking in such places. Quite apart from the fire risk, the smoke makes you cough, at least that’s what it does with me.” 

Fatima was about to give Sergeant Banda some praise before saying it was premature to come up with such a theory, but the Chief Fire Officer herself intervened. 

“Yes, you’re very right, Sergeant, on two counts. Unextinguished cigarettes are the leading cause of fires in public buildings. And I for one agree that there should be a smoking ban.  But in this instance, I’m not convinced that the fire was a result of careless disposal of a lit cigarette. All of the refuse from a restaurant or café would be placed in bins outside of the premises, and that’s the case here. You can see the bins at the back there, and significantly they are still their original silver colour and, therefore, unaffected by the blaze. 

“Generally, in a restaurant or café, fires get started either in the way that the Sergeant has outlined or they originate in the kitchen, where you have hot fat and gas lines. In this case the fire did not start in the kitchen, indeed its origin is nowhere on the ground floor but in the upper storey, which suffered most of the damage. I understand that there have been neither death nor injuries as a result of the fire, so, Inspector, you would need to ascertain if anyone was in the building at the time the fire started - the 999 alert was given by a passer-by - and whether they may have been on the upper floor. 

“If I were you, I would not rule out arson.” 

Fatima expressed her thanks to Mrs Bhutto and then turned to Constable Nguyen. “Do you know what was on the upper floor of the Longbarrow? Would anyone have been there after hours?” 

“I do know someone as works at the café,” Nguyen responded. “Upstairs is an office and some dry stores, as well as the loft where they used to cure meats, but they don’t do that now. The owner do live up on Jekyll Lane. She were here earlier, and Sergeant Banda have told her you will want to question her, Ma’am, but have gone to see her insurance broker. She did say that she were at home from half past five yesterday until she heard that the building were on fire. Then she come down to the High Street to watch with all those other people.” 

“Well,” said Fatima, “we’ll have to interview all of the staff. Please get a list of their names and addresses, Constable, and then arrange for Sergeant Banda and yourself to question them. And I shall speak to the owner myself. What is her name?” 

“Mrs Navaratnam, Ma’am, Mrs Gayatri Navaratnam.” 

That afternoon Mrs Navaratnam came to the police station and met Fatima in the interview room. 

“Could you please begin by running through everything that happened on the day of the fire? I’d like to understand all of the normal routine and anything that might have deviated from that routine on the day in question. Don’t worry about being overly detailed. Often it’s one of those minor points that can lead us to the cause of any event.” 

“Well,” began Mrs Navaratnam, “we always start early. I myself am on the premises at five o’clock in the morning. I have a cleaner comes in at that time, and he makes sure everything is spotless for the start of business. He gives the kitchen a thorough cleaning first, then the restaurant, and finally the toilets, making sure the soap and toilet paper dispensers are properly stocked. While he is doing that I bring down the supplies we need for the day from the storeroom on the upper floor. 

“At six o’clock our baker and her assistant arrive. They then begin to prepare the scones, cakes and rolls for the day. All of our baked goods are fresh each day, and all are prepared on the premises. We pride ourselves on that. It takes about three hours to do all the bakery cooking. Yesterday we didn’t expect that much business, as there’s nothing special happening at the College, so the quantity of baked goods was not that much. 

“Our waiting staff come in at nine o’clock. They set all the tables for the beginning of the day and put the baked goods into storage. They also make sure we have jam and cream pots on standby and teapots, jugs, cups, saucers, plates, cutlery and napkins at the ready. Whilst they are doing that I go to the bank - we’re at the Western Provincial - and deposit cash from the day before, after making sure we have sufficient change for the start of the day in our till.” 

“Would there have been any substantial amount of cash left on the premises last night? Where would it have been kept?” Fatima asked. 

“There is - was - a safe in the office on the upper floor. It fell through the floor during the fire but was undamaged. That’s what your Sergeant Banda told me, though I’ve not been able to verify it for myself. The ledgers are also in the safe. I’ve not been able to inspect them since yesterday, but I believe the total cash on hand would have been about £ 160.” 

Fatima thanked Mrs Navaratnam and asked her to continue. 

“At ten o’clock we open the doors to the public, but yesterday our first customers didn’t come in until a quarter to eleven. They had parked their Wolseley in the middle of the High Street. I think they were travelling from Brigstow to London, though I could only glean that from overhearing their rather loud conversation. It was a woman with her husband and her brother from what I could gather, in their fifties I would judge. They had one coffee, two teas and some sausage rolls. Sorry, that might be a little too detailed, and I’m sure I won’t be able to tell you what every single customer ate and drank, or what they looked like. I always seem to remember the first and last of the day.” 

“Don’t worry,” Fatima assured her. “This is all relevant and helps me to understand the context of the situation.” 

“Right. After that we had a fairly steady stream of customers coming in for light lunches and then our signature cream teas. Our last customer came in at about five o’clock, except it wasn’t really a customer. Mrs Chai Xiaolin, the owner of the Regency Hotel, came in to chat about business, which was strange, as it’s the first time she’s ever done that. I did go there once eighteen months ago, when they first opened their coffee bar, just out of curiosity, but I never went in again. I had no interest in the way they were doing business.” 

“Yes, that’s interesting,” Fatima responded, “and has anything else out of the ordinary happened in the past couple of weeks?” 

Mrs Navaratnam thought about this for a moment and then said: “Well yes. Someone, a middle aged woman, well dressed, came in three days ago just before midday. She wasn’t interested in ordering any food or drink but asked to see me. She was soliciting donations for a new political movement, one that is advocating immigration control and repatriation of illegal immigrants. Personally I don’t like that sort of thing. I have always had staff from other countries and like to help them set up new lives in Britain. Of course, I didn’t want to get into a political argument in the middle of a business day, so I just told her we never contribute to political causes, and she just left, without saying goodbye or anything.” 

“That is also interesting,” said Fatima. “I don’t think I have any further questions for the moment. We shall have to wait for the results of the forensic team’s examination of your premises. Then I’m sure we’ll need to speak again. Thank you very much, Mrs Navaratnam.” 

Shortly after Mrs Navaratnam left, Constable Senanayake put her head around Fatima’s door. “Ma’m, Mrs Kaboré telephoned. She said she might have some information on the Longbarrow fire.” 

“Thank you, Constable, I’ll pop in to see Anna a little later on. Right now I’d like to have a word with Sergeant Banda, Constable Nguyen and yourself. Can you ask them to come in here, please?” 

Banda and Senanayake sat down in the two chairs always kept in front of Fatima’s desk. Nguyen brought in an additional chair for herself from the adjoining office that she shared with the Sergeant. 

Fatima began: “I suspect there is going to be a lot of interviewing to do on this case, which we shall have to divide up among us. But first let’s see what we’ve already found out from the staff at the Longbarrow, and perhaps there are also some pointers from the forensics team?” 

Banda began, reading from her notebook: “Ma’am, there are six waiters working at the Longbarrow. They all work the same full-day shift. There are three women and three men. Two of them are foreigners. Then there’s two cleaners, both men, English. One comes in early morning, and they both clean up at the end of the day. In the kitchen, there’s a baker and her assistant come in early morning to prepare all the baked goods for the day. They’re both Englishwomen. Late morning a cook, also female, originally from Wales, comes in to prepare the light lunches. A foreign man does the dishes and works the full day. 

“I spoke to the staff in the kitchen and Nguyen to the waiting and cleaning staff. We couldn’t meet them at the Longbarrow itself, because it’s still not safe to go in there, so we asked them all to come here. The kitchen staff said it was a normal day but not so busy, as there is nothing special happening at the College right now. That was that.” 

“Thank you, Sergeant. That was very thorough, as ever. It’s important that we get the detail fully correct.” Fatima was always careful to compliment Banda, even though she rarely had much to contribute. “And Constable Nguyen?” 

“Ma’am, the cleaners did not have anything interesting to say. For them, like the Sergeant did say for the kitchen staff, it were just a normal day. The waiters did say mostly the same. But one of the men, the foreigner, who be very good looking also, did say that one customer come into the tea rooms more than once, which is not regular at all. He did not know her but said it were a short woman not dressed as well as the customers they normally do get. She come in at lunchtime and again for tea. She were alone, had a newspaper that she did not read, but did spend her time looking around the place. Each time she sit at a different table. The second time the waiter had offered her the same place where had sit before, but she did want to have another one.” 

“Curious,” said Fatima, “and do we have anything yet from the forensic team?” 

Sergeant Banda replied: “Not yet, Ma’am. They have said to expect their report tomorrow morning.” 

“And,” continued Constable Nguyen, “they do not say anything official before it’s in the report. But one of them shown me some things they did find. One were some tins of lighter fluid dumped in the dustbins of adjacent premises. Another were a metal button that had fallen through the floorboards from the upper storey. It were not badly damaged in the fire and had some military design on it. They will write in the report what regiment it did come from.” 

Fatima thanked Nguyen, not commenting yet on the significance of the findings she had presented, and then went on to relate what she had learned from Mrs Navaratnam before moving on to the next order of business. 

“Ladies, we have to talk to a lot of people. Firstly, I’d like to know if any other businesses have received visits from anyone asking for political donations of the sort that Mrs Navaratnam mentioned. Sergeant can you divide this up between yourself and Constables Nguyen and Senanayake. Report back to me tomorrow afternoon. And whilst you’re doing that I’ll have a word with Mrs Chai Xiaolin at the Regency Hotel. Oh, and Mrs Kaboré said she might have something for me, perhaps from one her more garrulous customers.” 

As they dispersed, Fatima was pleased to see her last point had drawn the habitual chortle from Constable Nguyen. 

It was now five o’clock, and Fatima knew that, if she wanted to be able to talk seriously with Anna Kaboré, she would need to go straightaway to the Red Cow public house. Exiting the police station, she crossed over Mabel Lane and walked along the footpath that linked it to Kabeya Square, passing the town swimming pool on her right. Once in Kabeya Square she proceeded to School Lane, which ran all the way up to the eastern end of the High Street. Just before she got to the Red Cow, Fatima turned right into a small alleyway that brought her to the back of the public house and the door into Anna’s private kitchen. It was always unlocked, and Fatima opened the door and walked straight in saying good evening to Paramanga, Anna’s husband, who was preparing tea for them both. 

“Hello, Fatima,” he said, “Anna’s in the bar. I’ll let her know that you’re here. And perhaps we can offer you something to eat.” 

“If you prepared it, Para, then it would be difficult to prevent me from eating,” Fatima responded. Paramanga grinned and then went to find Anna. 

“My dear Inspector,” said Anna, as she entered the kitchen, continuing a long running joke between them, “I wonder what may bring you to my humble establishment.” 

“My dear Mrs Kaboré, I do believe you had invited me.” 

“Too true, Fatima,” Anna continued. “Listen. At midday today we had quite a little crowd in the public bar, and the only thing they could talk about was the fire at the Longbarrow Tea Rooms last night. No one had any time for horses today, which is not at all par for the course.” 

Anna paused to chuckle at her own joke, and then went on: “Everyone had an opinion. They all thought that the fire had been set deliberately. Most thought it was an anti-College act, that some in the town feel jealous of the privileged people who send their children there. One or two were saying that it was jealousy from rival establishments of the Longbarrow, but that has to be nonsense. As far as I can see the Regency, for instance, must make a lot more money that the Longbarrow. It’s full every day of the year, whereas the Longbarrow only has large numbers on a few days, when there is activity at the College. 

“Then there was one woman sat quietly in the corner nursing a pint for the best part of an hour. I’ve not seen her before. She was wearing an old military battle dress over a faded pair of jeans. She had almost finished her pint, when she stood up and said loudly to all in the bar that, yes, of course, it was arson, as any fool could see. The Longbarrow clearly didn’t make money, so the reason for the fire would naturally have been to claim on the insurance. The owner did it. Then she swigged down the rest of her beer, put her glass on the counter and walked out without another word. 

“I don’t know if that’s of any help.” 

“It’s difficult to say, Anna,” Fatima responded. “There are so many theories about who may have started this fire, how and why. But this quiet new customer of yours is very interesting indeed. If she should come in again, please ring me right away.” 

“I’ll do that,” said Anna. “Now I have some more news for you on a completely different subject. You remember you, me and Kamala have been saying that we should take advantage of the vacancy on the Borough Council, with the resignation of Priyanka Patel, to get someone elected who will better represent the ordinary people of Silbury. Well I have an announcement to make once Kamala gets here. Did I mention that I’d invited her, and that you two are invited to tea?” 

“No, you didn’t,” said Fatima, “and now I’m intrigued. When will Kamala be here?” 

The kitchen door opened, and Kamala Peiris walked in. Kamala was the manager of the Western Provincial Bank in the High Street. Fatima, Anna and she had become inseparable friends since they had each moved to Silbury. 

“Sit down, you two,” said Anna, “and I’ll pour us each a cuppa. Para has made some lovely snacks to go with it. He’ll also look after the bar until we finish here. There won’t be that many customers this early in the evening.” 

They all sat down and helped themselves to the delicacies that Anna’s husband, a former sous-chef at a renowned London restaurant, had prepared for them. Anna then continued: “I’ve thrown my hat into the ring. I’ve registered as a candidate for the Borough Council. I want especially to do something more for our young people in Silbury. They seem today to have such a bleak future.” 

Fatima and Kamala both cheered. “There is no one better for the position,” said Kamala, “and that includes the two of us. Sorry, Fatima.” 

“I certainly do not disagree,” Fatima affirmed. “We’re with you on this, Anna. Short of putting up posters at the police station or the Western Provincial, just tell us what we can do to get you elected and to support you thereafter.” 

They continued to congratulate Anna and to discuss what needed to be done to assure her election. Then Fatima and Kamala left her to get back to her evening’s business. 

As they walked out, Fatima said to Kamala: “Could I ask you for some help on a case I’m just dealing with now? I believe that the Longbarrow Tea Rooms bank with you. I just wanted to know if, in your opinion, the business is profitable and in good standing. I don’t need any details or figures, just your view.” 

“I think I can do that,” Kamala responded, “on the understanding that any information I do give you is completely informal and unattributable. I’ll give you a ring tomorrow.” 

“Thanks, Kamala. See you again soon.” 

The two friends followed their different paths to their respective homes. 

The next morning, Sergeant Banda and Constables Nguyen and Senanayake were out questioning almost every business owner in Silbury to see if any others had been approached for donations for an apparent new anti-immigrant political movement. Fatima was sitting in the office of Mrs Chai Xiaolin, proprietor of the Regency Hotel. 

“I understand, Mrs Chai, that you had visited the Longbarrow Tea Rooms on the afternoon before it caught fire. I was wondering if you could tell me about the purpose of your visit.” 

Mrs Chai was very calm in her response. “Yes, I did go over. Mrs Navaratnam had visited us when we had opened our coffee bar, though she didn’t actually speak to me on that occasion, and just posed as any other customer. I’ve been thinking for some time that I should return the compliment, if I can put it that way, and make a visit to the Longbarrow. One of the things that I wanted to do was to emphasize that we have complementary businesses and are in no way actually in competition. Of course, I didn’t say that directly, which would have been rather crass, in my opinion. Instead I just asked lightly about how things were going for Mrs Navaratnam’s café. I think I also might have said that our coffee bar was doing quite good trade.” 

“I see,” said Fatima. “I’m not sure your intention was really understood, at least from my conversation with Mrs Navaratnam. She was actually rather confused. Perhaps a more direct approach would work better, even if it does mean treading on a few niceties. 

“Anyway, that is none of my business. What I did wonder was if, whilst you were there, you may have noticed anything out of the ordinary. Bear in mind please that, for the moment at least, we are treating the fire as suspicious and possibly an act of arson.” 

Mrs Chai thought for a moment or so before she answered. “It’s very difficult for me to say. Their way of doing things is so different from mine, and I would not run that place at all the way Mrs Navaratnam does. For one thing I don’t like seeing so many foreigners around the place. It makes me feel uncomfortable, and I’d be worried they would not understand me and get my orders all wrong. Apart from that, nothing else occurs to me. Was there something specific I was supposed to notice?” 

“No, nothing particular,” said Fatima. “Do you mind if I ask whether you are against all immigration into Britain? Have you perhaps been approached for donations to a new anti-immigrant political movement?” 

Mrs Chai did not need to think this time. “I don’t mind giving my view on that, at least as long as it’s not made public. We don’t need immigrants. There is enough unemployment already in Britain. We just need to get British people to work harder and take on work that may not pay so well. That’s my private opinion. I don’t get involved in politics, because it can interfere with the profitability of my business. And no, no one has asked me to support such a cause with any financial donations, not that I would give one if I was asked. I hope that satisfies your, let’s say, curiosity.” 

“Yes, it does,” Fatima responded. “Thank you very much for your time. I just have one other question for you. I suppose that you have completed your national service in the armed forces, unless you were a conscientious objector. I wondered if you would mind telling me in which branch you served.” 

“What a strange question. Yes, I did do my national service, and I am proud of that. I rose to the rank of corporal in the Eastfolk Regiment. Why do you ask?” 

“Oh, I’m afraid it’s just a hobby of mine. Since national service was abolished six years ago, I’ve been interested to know about people’s experiences of it. Perhaps, one day when I leave the police force, I might write a book about it, though not, of course, mentioning any names. By the way, I also did my national service with the Royal Air Force Regiment. Head in the air and feet on the ground.”  

Fatima decided a little levity was appropriate to end what had been quite a prickly interview. She did not like Mrs Chai. At the same time, she was convinced that she had nothing to do with any arson at the Longbarrow. Still it would be interesting to see if the button found on the premises was from the Eastfolk Regiment. 

Back at the police station, Fatima saw that the forensics team had delivered its report somewhat ahead of time. She had herself brought a cup of tea and some biscuits and then sat down to read the report carefully. It concluded that the fire was definitely caused by an arsonist. She (or he or they) had set the fire on the upper floor by dousing a number of items of wooden furniture with lighter fluid and then setting this alight. There was no sign of forced entry or exit on the ground floor, so the arsonist must have got into and out of the building through an upper window; all of the windows on the upper floor had considerable fire damage, so there was no way of saying which window or windows had been used. The blaze also meant that there were no physical clues left on the upper floor. The one clue the team had found on the premises was a metal button that had been part of a service uniform. The design on the button was the emblem of the Lakes Regiment of the British Army. No connection to Mrs Chai Xiaolin then. 

As she sat there thinking about what they now knew, but mostly about what they still did not know, the telephone rang. It was Kamala calling to give her the information she had asked for the previous evening. 

“Hello, Fatima, I had a gander at the Longbarrow’s account, and it looks very healthy without being spectacular. Earnings are not even throughout the year, as we already know, but the income in the good months is very substantial, and I would judge that the business is profitable throughout the year. All in all, Mrs Navaratnam’s capital holdings have grown substantially over the past three years. She would have no reason to risk everything on an insurance claim. 

“And I didn’t say anything to you today. Understood?” 

“Fully understood, Kamala. I did not hear you loud and clear,” Fatima said chuckling. She thanked her and rang off. 

When she put the telephone down, she heard noises from the adjoining office, indicating that Sergeant Banda and Constables Nguyen and Senanayake had returned. She went to join them. 

“Ladies, let’s start with you. What have you found out today?” 

Sergeant Banda began: “Ma’am, we decided to divide up the businesses among us, so we could cover them all in the course of the morning. I went to all the businesses on the High Street to the west of the Longbarrow and the Regency Hotel; Senanayake went to all the businesses on the High Street to the east of the same starting point; and Nguyen covered the rest of the town. We haven’t yet had a chance to share our findings among ourselves, so we’ll each say what we learned. I’d be surprised though if there are any differences. In a nutshell, from my inquiries, there was no one that has been approached for a donation of the kind that Mrs Navaratnam had talked about with you.” 

Banda stopped and looked at her two colleagues. Constable Senanayake was the next to speak. 

“Ma’am, the Sergeant is right. I had exactly the same experience as she did. No one has been asked for a donation.” 

Constable Nguyen was next. She took a few moments to think first, and then said: “I also did have the same responses from business owners, Ma’am. But I did wonder if they was reluctant to admit to talking with strangers about immigration control, so I did also talk with some employees in most of the businesses I had to visit. As a matter of fact I did start my inquiries yesterday evening, because it be easier then to get information at the pubs, or at the fish and chip shop, than it be in the morning.  

“Well, there were the Second Row public house, where I did have quite a long talk with a barman as works there, very nice he be too. Anyway, he says he did overhear his boss talking with a woman, middle aged, well dressed, who were asking for support to stop immigration. He did not hear all of the conversation, that he says lasted for about five or ten minutes. He remember though that the boss did tell the woman loudly to leave her establishment and to go to hell. Mrs Ros Saveth, as owns the Second Row, be married to a man immigrated from eastern Europe. The woman did leave but shout back that this be not the end of the matter.” 

“All right,” said Fatima, “let’s take stock. 

“We have the forensics report. This is a case of arson. The only pieces of physical evidence are those we already discussed yesterday afternoon. The button, by the way, bore the insignia of the Lakes Regiment.” She carefully did not mention that the original source of information on the button was Constable Nguyen, because she did not want to discourage her other officers, and Nguyen also feigned hearing about it for the first time. 

“Mrs Navaratnam told me that the day of the fire, just before she closed for the day, she had a visit from Mrs Chai Xiaolin, owner of the Regency Hotel. I talked with Mrs Chai this morning. I’m sure that she had nothing to do with the fire. She had no plausible motive. I learned that Mrs Chai did national service in the army, so she may have kept parts of her uniform. But she was with the Eastfolk Regiment. I don’t think we need to check that, as for the moment she is not a suspect. 

“Yesterday at around midday, Anna Kaboré overheard a customer at the Red Cow Inn say that the fire had been started by Mrs Navaratnam herself so she could claim on the insurance. We can discount this too. The Longbarrow is a very profitable business. There would be no reason to risk that. What is interesting here is the source of the allegation. The speaker was a woman whom Mrs Kaboré had not seen before, not one of her regulars. The woman was wearing an army battle dress over a faded pair of jeans. We should keep an eye out for this woman. 

“And now we also have the information provided by the young barman - I presume he was young and handsome, eh, Nguyen? - at the Second Row. The refusal of a contribution to this anti-immigrant movement could be a motive for arson, as revenge or as a means of intimidating others or both. The fact is we don’t know if any demands of this nature were made to other businesses, or indeed if any of them may have agreed to make a contribution; not everyone in this town is friendly towards immigrants, as I was forcibly reminded today, but that’s another story. 

“This would be the sum of our knowledge to date. Would you agree?” 

Banda and Senanayake nodded in agreement. Nguyen chortled and admitted that the barman at the Second Row was indeed a handsome devil. 

“The question is,” said Fatima, “what should we do now?” 

Sergeant Banda raised a hand. “Ma’am, as you rightly said, we should keep a lookout for the woman from the Red Cow. If Mrs Kaboré had not seen her before, it’s likely she came from out of town. After all, Silburians tend to stick to the same watering hole. Could we ask Mrs Kaboré if she can sit with a police artist and give her a fuller description, so we can put together an identikit picture to share with other publicans and café, hotel and boarding house owners?” 

Fatima was pleasantly surprised by Banda’s suggestion. “That’s an excellent idea, Sergeant. I’ll speak to Mrs Kaboré, and then you can make the arrangements with the police artist. Any other suggestions?” 

Constable Nguyen had one. “This be my idea. If the Second Row might be threatened, I can go and spend the evening there to see if this battle dress woman do come in, also to keep an eye out for any arson attempt.” 

“Yes, I’m sure you wouldn’t have any other reasons for spending the evening at the Second Row, Constable,” Fatima said, as Nguyen grinned broadly. “I agree that you can do that, but please make sure to keep a low profile. We don’t want to scare this person off. 

“The other thing that occurred to me is that it is unlikely our arsonist will seek to set a fire whilst there are customers at the Second Row. Following the example of the Longbarrow, she would more likely gain entry after the premises have been closed for a couple of hours. Therefore, for the next two nights, on the off chance that there may be an attempt at arson at the Second Row, I suggest we take turns to keep the premises under surveillance from, let us say, midnight, which is one and half hours after closing time, until two in the morning. As Constable Nguyen will already be there, I shall join her tonight. Tomorrow, Sergeant Banda and Constable Senanayake, it will be your turn. If anything happens, one of us must immediately go to the public telephone that’s situated opposite the Second Row and dial 999. It is as important to alert the fire brigade as it is to apprehend the culprit. There may also be a need for an ambulance. 

“Right. Does everyone understand their responsibilities for the rest of today?” 

They all nodded. Fatima left the room and went home to prepare for a long night. 

Fatima ended up going to the Second Row just after ten o’clock. She was uneasy about proceeding with her plan without giving Mrs Ros Saveth prior warning about what could happen. She first went to speak with Constable Nguyen, whom she found sat at a dark corner table, apparently with a stiff drink in front of her. She assured Fatima it was only a cola. 

“Have you seen the woman we are looking for, Nguyen?” 

“No, I did decide not to come here too early on account of staying up late,” she replied. “I come here at about quarter to nine. I did ask the barman – his name be Win Tin - if he did see anyone matching the description of this woman, and she have been here an hour before. He did say he thought she were about 25 years old. She were wearing the same clothes as at the Red Cow. The battle dress were khaki, army colour. It did have epaulettes on the shoulders, one with a button and the other fastened with a safety pin, button missing.” 

Nguyen gave Fatima what she thought of as her significant look. 

“All right, Constable,” said Fatima quietly. “I’m going to go round to the lounge bar and then arrange to disappear into Mrs Saveth’s living quarters. I’ll inform her about what we’re doing and offer the option of leaving the premises, if she wants to, after closing time. Then I’ll observe from there. Once the pub closes, I want you to go across the street and hide yourself close to the telephone box. If, after midnight, you should see anything suspicious, use your police whistle to warn me, and then dial 999 to alert the emergency services and summon Banda and Senanayake.” 

“Wilco, Captain,” said Nguyen grinning. 

“How could life go on without your humour?” Fatima grinned back at him. 

Fatima then went around to the lounge bar, introduced herself to Mrs Saveth and received an invitation to go with her into her parlour behind the bar. Fatima found her fascinating, at the same time ultra-cooperative and belligerent. 

“Yes, of course I’ll be very happy for you stay here tonight and catch the brigand, if she dares to do anything on my property. But I’m not going anywhere. An Englishwoman’s home is her castle. I’m not afraid of anyone. Before I took this pub, I spent twenty years in the army. I’ve served overseas and seen active service. I met my husband, whilst I was in the service. I love him, and no one is going to do anything to harm him. My England is a place that welcomes people who are different, and I’ll also fight to defend that. So put that in your pipe and smoke it, Inspector! No offence meant, of course.” 

With that she left to call time in the bar. At eleven o’clock Mrs Saveth returned with her husband, who had helped her clean up at closing time. She announced that the pub was empty and invited Fatima to join her in a cup of tea and some sandwiches that her husband had prepared earlier. 

“Your barman, Win Tin, has he gone too?” Fatima asked. 

“He left with the young woman you were talking to earlier, and who was chatting up Win Tin before you came in. I can guess what they’re up to now.” 

Once Mrs Saveth and her husband had finished their supper, about three quarters of an hour later, Fatima encouraged them to go on up to bed. She herself then turned out all the lights and settled in to wait for what might happen.  

Earlier in the day, when she had told Mrs Chai that she had done her national service in the Royal Air Force Regiment, Fatima had been telling only half of the truth. She had indeed started out there. But she was quickly recognized as a natural for intelligence work and had been transferred to Army Intelligence in a completely different branch of the armed services. It was not only rare, it was practically unique for the RAF and the Army to collaborate in this fashion, willingly transferring a body from one to the other for good reason. It certainly helped that the commanding officers of the two units concerned were sisters, and that the Minister of War at the time was their aunt. In Army Intelligence, Fatima learned many skills that would be useful to her in later life. One such was the ability to sit completely still and quiet with nothing to do but wait, and yet have all of her senses finely focused.  

She remained in this trancelike state for almost two hours. Then she heard the faint scrape of someone picking a lock. An outer door opened with almost no sound except a slight creaking of a hinge. Then muffled footsteps could be heard coming in the direction of the downstairs parlour where Fatima sat. Silently she stood to prepare herself for what would come next. The parlour door opened, and Fatima could see the silhouette of a shortish woman. The woman clearly also saw her. 

“Stay where you are. I have a gun, and I shan’t hesitate to use it.” 

Fatima immediately dropped to the ground, and the gun went off. The bullet passed over her and lodged in the wall behind where she had been standing. Then she kicked the legs out from underneath her assailant. The gun went off again, this time the bullet going into the ceiling. At that point Mrs Saveth entered the room and put the intruder into a headlock, whilst Fatima reached out and ripped the gun from her hand. 

“Make any sudden  moves, and I’ll break your neck,” Mrs Saveth hissed into the ear of the intruder. 

Fatima quickly turned on the light and blew her police whistle to alert Constable Nguyen, who would be across the road. If she followed the instructions she had been given earlier, she would then alert the emergency services before coming herself to see if Fatima was in need of aid. 

The intruder was now fully subdued. Fatima reached into one of her pockets and drew out a pair of handcuffs, which she used to secure the intruder’s arms behind her back. At that point Mrs Saveth let go of the intruder’s neck and pushed her into a chair. It was then that Constable Nguyen ran in. 

“Shall we see what we’ve got here?” said Fatima to her two collaborators.  

Then she addressed the intruder. “I am Police Inspector Fatima Dieng. Who might you be, and what are you doing trespassing on these premises?” 

The intruder looked puzzled. “You’re Dieng?” she asked. “I wasn’t told to expect you to be here.” She stopped speaking for a moment, and then said: “I’m not saying any more without a solicitor being present.” 

“Well, of course, that’s your right,” Fatima responded, “but we can hardly help you if we don’t know who you are or who might be your solicitor.” 

“Mrs Meledi Mbeko will represent me,” the intruder said. 

“Very well then, we’ll telephone Mrs Mbeko in the morning. Meanwhile, you’ll be taken to the police station and charged there with forced entry, at least initially. You’ll be spending the night in a cell there. Constable, once Sergeant Banda and Constable Senanayake have arrived here, please see to the transportation of our prisoner. If she still refuses to give you a name on your arrival there, you know the procedure to follow.” 

Banda and Senanayake arrived shortly thereafter, as did a fire engine and an ambulance, which Fatima had dismissed. Then the three police officers took their prisoner away. Mrs Saveth and Fatima were left alone. 

“I must say, you acted very quickly and decisively,” Fatima said. “I have to thank you for getting me out of what could have been a very dangerous situation. I hope your husband is also all right.” 

“Oh, I expect he’s still asleep.” Mrs Saveth grinned. “He takes a tablet every night before he retires, and we never hear anything from him until the next morning, even if there’s a thunderstorm. And from what I could see, you seemed to have the situation nicely under control without my help, but I couldn’t help having a crack myself. It was just like old times in unarmed combat training.” 

Having received Sergeant Banda’s telephone call, Mrs Meledi Mbeko, Senior Partner at Mbeko, Mbeko and Mbeko, Solicitors, came to the police station on the following morning. After spending an hour or so with her client, she asked to see Inspector Dieng. Fatima received her in her office. 

“Before you say anything, Mrs Mbeko, I have to emphasize the gravity of the situation in which your client finds herself and the importance of her being more cooperative with the police.  

“Your client was caught having forced entry to the Second Row public house. She twice discharged a firearm inside the premises, putting lives in danger, a firearm for the possession of which we do not yet know if she had a proper license. When she was searched on arrival at the police station, she was found to have a considerable quantity of lighter fluid secreted in various pockets of her battle dress and jeans, a quantity far exceeding that needed to fill a lighter. This physical evidence leads us to conclude, and I believe a judge would have the same opinion, that your client intended to commit arson at the Second Row had she not been apprehended by the owner, Mrs Ros Saveth, and myself. We have further physical evidence tying her to the fire at the Longbarrow Tea Rooms. 

“Now, what did you have to say to me?” 

“That was a very pretty speech, Inspector, and, knowing you, I don’t doubt the veracity of any part of it,” Mrs Mbeko responded. “My client is now willing to give you her name and other personal particulars. She will admit to forced entry at the Second Row but contends that this was for the purposes of burglary only. The lighter fluid in her possession was procured for sale on the black market. She does not have a license for the firearm but states that she found it and did not know she needed permission to possess an arm intended only for self-protection. 

“Are you now available to speak with my client in my presence?” 

They went together to the interview room, Fatima asking Constable Nguyen to join them there for an extra pair of ears and eyes. The prisoner gave her name as Miss Indah Widodo, aged 23 years and having no fixed abode. After completing a term of national service in the Army (Lakes Regiment), she had not been able to find steady employment but had instead done a series of casual jobs for cash working on farms, at markets and fairs, and finally in warehouses. She also admitted to being involved in petty theft and burglary. That is all that she would say. In all of this, her regard was rather on Mrs Mbeko than on either of the two police officers present. 

Following the recording of Miss Widodo’s statement, Fatima said to her: “Is this really all you have to say? You realize that, by your own admission, you are now going to be charged with a number of offences that, in themselves, are serious enough and would likely send you to prison for a number of years. If, on the other hand you are able to help us understand what and who are behind the arson committed at the Longbarrow Tea Rooms, and no doubt intended at the Second Row public house, we can look into a recommendation from the police that there be more lenient sentencing.” 

Miss Widodo looked at Fatima and then at Mrs Mbeko and said: “No. I have nothing more to say.” 

“Very well. Constable Nguyen, would you please caution Miss Widodo and take her back to the cell? Then kindly come to my office. We have some other matters to review together.” And with that, Fatima abruptly left the interview room. 

A few minutes later, Nguyen came into Fatima’s office. 

“What did you think?” Fatima asked her. 

“She did know a lot more than she say, but she be very scared of Mrs Mbeko.” 

“Yes, you’re right,” said Fatima. “Mrs Mbeko is not here to represent the interests of Miss Widodo but those of entirely another client. I believe that other client was the one that ordered the fires, possibly as retaliation for not funding her anti-immigrant movement and possibly as a lesson for those from whom contributions are being solicited. 

“Constable, let’s leave Miss Widodo to think about her situation for another hour or so. And then could you please go and see if she may be willing to speak to us without the presence of her solicitor?” 

Later that day, Fatima and Nguyen again sat opposite Miss Widodo in the police station’s interview room. Fatima made a point of disconnecting the tape recorder. 

“This will be all off the record,” she said to Miss Widodo. “Constable Nguyen here tells me you have something you'd like to say to us. We are ready to listen.” 

“I couldn’t talk in front of her, in front of Mrs Mbeko. It would all get back to Mrs Big, and then I’d be cooked.” 

“Why don’t you start from the beginning?” suggested Fatima. “It will be easier for us to understand, and perhaps easier for you to tell.” 

Miss Widodo composed herself and then started. “Last winter I had got a job at a warehouse in Scowbridge. I don’t want to say any names, because I’m really afraid. One of the things I had to do was make sure we had fires lit outside the warehouse for the workers to warm up and keep going; it was very cold, and there was no heating in the warehouse. I was very good at getting things burning; I’d learned it from the travellers at fair grounds where I’d worked. We also used to cook our suppers on those fires. No one had a home to go to, and it was cheaper than getting food at a café. As the weather warmed up through spring, I’d still set one fire every evening, so we could cook. 

“Well, a friend of the owner came to know about how I was good with fire, and she came to me a few weeks back to ask if I’d take on a new job for her. She said she would pay me three times what I was getting at the warehouse. I knew that it would involve setting fires in buildings to burn them down, or at least damage them, but I didn’t care, because I wanted the money. Anyway, last week my new employer comes to me and says we have some work to do in Silbury. Mrs Big, who she works for, wants us to intimidate some local business owners who are refusing to make contributions to the new anti-immigrant movement that she is starting. We’re going to set fires in their business as a punishment and as a sign to others that they should cooperate with us. She’ll tell me which places to set the fires, and I have to do it within the next three days, making sure it’s at night and that I don’t get caught. She gave me a gun in case I ever needed to get out of a difficult situation. 

“The thing is she also tells me that there is a particular police officer in Silbury that they want to see embarrassed by creating havoc that she can’t manage. That was you, Inspector Dieng. 

“Anyway, I was to have set fire to the Second Row yesterday night, and then three days later I was going to do the same at Khan Antiques. They all refused to make donations. We were doing the Second Row first, because the owner was rude to my employer. Mrs Khan refused more politely.” 

“I don’t condone what you have done,” Fatima said to Miss Widodo, “but I do recognize that you, that your situation, have been used by others who clearly hold power over you. It’s possible we could help you, but you will have to give us more than you have to date. In particular, I need some names both of your direct employer, presumably the same woman who has been soliciting these donations from local business owners, and of this mysterious Mrs Big.” 

“That’s the thing,” said Miss Widodo. “I don’t know who Mrs Big is, only that she is very powerful and that apparently the police can’t touch her. At least that’s what my employer said, meaning to warn me that I had to be careful and not talk to anyone. 

“My employer never told me her name. She would just give me a lot of money at the end of every week and tell me that I’d know everything I needed to know and no more than that, also that I’d get a lot more for every job done. Once though I did hear an assistant manager at the warehouse call her Mrs Desai. That’s all I know, except she also gave me the solicitor’s name just in case I did get caught. I know now that that wasn’t to help me, but it was to make sure I didn’t talk.” 

Fatima and Nguyen continued to question Miss Widodo, but they didn’t learn anything else new. Still there were some leads that, given time, they might be able to follow up. A lot would depend on finding this Mrs Desai, and on persuading Miss Widodo that she could safely divulge what she knew to the police and the courts. 

They were interrupted by Sergeant Banda, who came to say that Mrs Mbeko had returned with an order from a Justice of the Peace that Miss Widodo be released into her custody. As Miss Widodo herself agreed, no doubt thinking she had a chance this way of escaping prison, they had no choice but to comply and let her go. 

Over the next week Fatima and her colleagues continued to look for the illusive Mrs Desai, asking for descriptions from the owners of the Longbarrow, Second Row and Khan Antiques, showing an identikit picture to other business owners around the town. Few admitted to having seen her, and it seemed that she had decided now to abandon Silbury. 

At the end of the week Fatima had a telephone call from the Chief Constable. 

“Inspector, I have been following your incompetent pursuit of this case of arson at the Longbarrow Tea Rooms. Again you have embarrassed the police force in the eyes of the people of wealth and good standing who frequent that establishment. Why you let the apparent culprit go, I have no idea, and I have no interest in hearing any of your excuses. Just know that I am watching you, and I shall not countenance much more of this. Now, to limit any further embarrassment, you are to abandon all investigations of this case and get back to the pig pilfery or whatever else it is that should occupy the police in that boring little town.” 

And, with that, the Chief Constable put down the receiver without giving Fatima the courtesy of any reply. She sat flabbergasted. And, as she sat there, she began to mull over the name Desai, a common one, yes, but one too that was shared by the Chief Constable and the person she and her fellow officers had been seeking, and both lived in Scowbridge. What to make of that? 

Fatima did abandon the case. She realised that they had almost no chance of making any progress, except to antagonize the Chief Constable more than she already had. Then she learned from one of the local newspapers, the Shoatshire Gazette and Herald, that a young woman named Indah Widodo had been found drowned in a mill race in a small village about halfway between Silbury and Scowbridge. 

The same newspaper announced the election to the Silbury Borough Council of Mrs Anna Kaboré.