The Arson Case

 There you are, laying silently in the hospital bed, waiting for your next check-up by the doctor. Your feet are twitching violently, as the wintry cold pours generously out of a window gap and devours them.  You look out the window and think about how wrong the weather forecast had been, ‘Come on, for the Love of God, it’s the seventh time in the week! It’s raining cats and dogs! Thank the Lord Mum and Dad made it out of the place dry as sand! They’d be soaked if they were a second late, ha-ha!’

 Your arms are weary from holding a bouquet of flowers given to you by your parents. And your ecstatic smile just shows how amazing those six straight hours were.

 You think to yourself, ‘Man, Mum and Dad sure were chatty today! Thank God my ears didn’t fall out from that never-ending train wreck of a conversation. From talking about how alcohol ruined Jerking Joe’s marriage, to Stan’s feet fetish and even Uncle Richards’ big toe, it was just a disaster. Still, I appreciated that they came to visit me and I enjoyed those hour-long stories. Also, I knew Jerking Joe deserved that! He was a no-good drunkard ever since he laid eyes on a glass of Brandy back in high school. As for Stan well he- ‘

 Your train of thought has been interrupted by a sudden knock on the door. You respond to it.

 “Come in!”

 You can hear loud and sturdy footsteps of two men, as they march into your room. One man was holding a pack of cigarettes and dressed fancily in a long grey overcoat. The other man was much shorter, and wore a bright yellow tuxedo which shone extravagantly under the ceiling lights. The person in grey, wasted no time in lighting up a cigarette and the guy in yellow advanced forward towards you.

 “Alan Brighton, is that your name?” he questions you.

 You nod accordingly. His soul-piercing gaze somewhat frightens you, so you nod once more, but faster.

 “Whoa, whoa, calm down, relax, we don’t want you to get a stroke, we’re here to just ask a few questions alright.”

 “I thought it was pretty funny, how he started bobbing his head up and down like one of those broken kids’ toys.” The man in grey finally speaks.

 “Judas, try to have some respect. The guy just had a near-death experience last week.”

 “Sorry, Bob.”

 “Don’t say sorry to me, say it to him!”

 “Sorry, man.”

 “It’s fine sir.”

 As a single strand of silver smoke hits the ceiling, Bob snatches the chair beside you and sits on it. He moans in relief, as the comfortable leather of said chair caressed his worn-out bosom. Once again, his spine-chilling stare resumes.

 “Alan, do you know why I look angry?”

 “No, Sir. I don’t know why you look like one of my high school maths teachers.” You respond sarcastically.

 Amused by the unexpected retort, Bob chuckles and says, “Well, I’m angry because my partner over there is smoking a joint, in a clearly non-smoking area.”

 Judas, with a pretentious grin intrudes the conversation and says, “You fellas must be discussing on how I look today, right? Well I look fab- “

“Stupid. Judas you’re an idiot,” Bob clearing his throat continues with, “Cause’ you’re smoking in the damn hospital!”

 Judas, frowning, tosses the cigarette into a nearby trash bin. As his partner casts another ferocious gaze at him, he throws the entire pack in as well. With that issue resolved, Bob retrieves a minuscule notebook from his pocket and begins to read it out loud.

 “Alan Brighton, 23 years old, caught in a fire incident last week and currently in a hospital, did I miss anything?”

 “No that’s fairly correct.”

 “Alright so- “

 “Hold on Bob, we haven’t introduced ourselves yet.” Judas exclaims.

 Bob leans into the chair and explains, “He doesn’t need to know our full names, but because you finally said something decent, you go first.”

 “So, my name’s Judas Garrett and I’ve been working as a detective for over- “

 “Now, stop right there! It’s my turn. My name’s Bob Price and he’s my partner.”

 “So, let me guess, both of you detectives are here to figure out the culprit of that fire incident, correct?”

 Judas shuffles towards the edge of your bed and answers,

“Exactly.”

 His steely blue eyes cast a familiar stern gaze at you, just like a lion eyeing at a gazelle. Bob on the other hand, has his eyes fixed on the set of questions he had prepared to ask you.

 “Great, it’s time we reach the juicy parts. I guess I’ll skip this and that, and cut to the chase. How did the fire happen?”

 You pause for a couple of seconds and think to yourself, ‘He sure is assertive isn’t he. I mean, I’m not too comfortable to talk about the horrors of last week, but I suppose if it’s for the greater good, I will do it.’

 “I’m sorry if it’s not too clear or anything- “

 “Don’t worry about it, all you have to do is just summarise the main points.”

 “Well, it was Monday evening, Mum and Dad were out celebrating their 25^th year anniversary and I was alone in the living room watching the news.”

 “Did you bring over any friends or perhaps hire certain people to ‘entertain’ you?” Judas chimes in.

  Feeling rather pissed off you reply to him, “No, I was just alone with a box of cereal and a jar of milk to soothe my lonesome self, sure if I wanted to I could’ve- “

 “Alan, calm down, he doesn’t mean it. Just tell us more clues about the incident.”

 “Sorry… Anyways, around 8 pm there was an unusual crackling noise downstairs. That constant firecracker-like noise piqued my interest, so I crept slowly to the kitchen to grab a knife, or a spatula, something sharp to make me feel safe, you know.”

 “You sure it’s not the neighbours having a gender reveal party?” Judas interrupts care-freely.

 “No sir, the neighbours were coincidentally out to watch some classic horror films; nobody, but their pets were in their homes. Following that, the sound grew louder as I tip-toed closer to the backdoor.”

“What did you see?” Judas asks with child-like curiosity

 “There was a bald person, that had a flaming skull tattoo etched onto his forehead.”

 Once Bob heard you utter that sentence, his previously stony expression melts away slightly. Judas’ ears perked up in an uncanny way, like a rabbit in danger; in this case, he too was intrigued by that statement.

 “Does the man have some sort of huge scar on his left cheek?” Bob suggests.

 “Yes, yes he does!”

 “Judas, I think we’ve finally found him.”

 “Yup, the only living person with a tacky tattoo, a scar on his left cheek and commits arson, has got to be- “

 “Danny ‘Burning Man’ Hooker!” the two detectives shouted in chorus.

 “Who exactly is that?”

 Judas answers gladly, “Now, Danny is an infamous arsonist, who’s been on the run ever since he burnt down 3 local banks in three days effortlessly. Still an old granny who was withdrawing money in one of those banks saw him and described him to us.”

 “We figured that he would get hungry for another bonfire, or something, so we waited for another fire-related case to happen. And, what do you know, Danny saw those empty neighbourhood houses and accidentally lit yours up! Thank goodness you’re alive, now we can track him down.”

 Finally, Bob’s current elated mood resembles that of his outfit. Yellow and happy.

 “But he could be anywhere.”

 Bob leaving his chair, produces a sly smirk on his face. He answers with, “No one gets away from us that easily.”

 In long joyous strides, the two detectives reach the doorway they came in from. Both men bid their farewells to you.

 “Alan, I wish you the best of luck in life, also thanks a bunch for the information.”

 Bob exits the room first and Judas pops another cigarette into his mouth. Whilst lighting his cigarette he shouts, “Thanks for everything man! Finally, I can smoke again!”

   After he leaves the room, you turn to the window and observe the downpour gradually dying. You think to yourself, ‘Well that was weird, but I guess I did do a good deed in helping them catch that madman. Wow, the rain’s stopped. Maybe I can trust weather forecasts a bit more.’