Norwegian Wood
3 November 2006
The town of Cable grew out of the fortunes of the giant lentil factory. It was over a hundred years ago when a man by the name of Lucas Fishbait realised the comparative advantage that the area showed for lentil production and quickly invested. The lentil factory required workers and the workers needed places to live and places to shop. So quickly came up the houses and the general stores and the town just grew.
The dependence on the lentil factory became less important when people started to realise that the giant lake a stone's throw away from the factory was actually rather nice and soon Cable starting to develop a tourist trade.
Still the generations that followed Lucas Fishbait flourished. Consistently known as the richest in town and given the respect they deserved - the Fishbaits lead the good life. Now, the only male left in the Fishbait line was Jeffrey, who had acquired a Bachelor of Commerce in Economics and Finance which was then followed up by a PhD in Gender Studies, he still reaped the rewards of the prospering lentil factory and lived the good life. Until right now, because now it had all turned to shit - because he had just been murdered.
Dr. Jeffrey Fishbait's receptionist Fern had learned long before never to interrupt the man when he said he didn't want to be interrupted. The last time she did resulted in memories she was still trying to repress, they involved the doctor along with Rachel from Marketing, Suzy from the mail room and an awful lot of lentils.
It was the use of the lentils that was making Fern very anxious to stop this current party from entering his office. But most insistent they were. There were three of them, the middle one was clearly the leader, he was the tough one you see - wiry, balding, short and uneven glasses. He repeated his request to see Fern's boss and she stood her ground.
"He's in a meeting and cannot be disturbed. If you just come back in the afternoon."
Their leader looked angry, not used to be denied what he wanted; his lip started to quiver a little. Little pieces of sweat that just emanated anger started to drip on down. He was the largest producer of chickpeas in the area and no one messed with him.
"Look, this is of vital importance to the Chickpea-Lentil alliance. We demand to see Dr. Fishbait."
"No. Come back later."
"I don't believe I've stressed this enough."
"No. Fuck off."
Swear words flowed naturally from Fern's mouth when she got angry. Some people would of considered this a problem, but for Fern it was just an efficient method of using words. A little taken aback, the chickpea kings took a moment to reconsider their options and then repeated their request - all the more polite this time but with a side of pissed off undertones. Fern continued the stare down and eventually, just gave in.
She got no response from the intercom, so she gathered up her strength and walked into his office. She closed her eyes, half-expecting Rachel from Marketing in a compromising position on top of the giant moose head that Jeffrey displayed with pride. She expected to see the sight of red lentils purred with onions, tomatoes and garlic boiling in the corner all ready for use. So, Fern was a little surprised when she saw none of these things - instead she just saw the dead body of her boss. Well, her former boss. The murderer, in an attempt at dramatic flair had strung up Jeffrey in a Jesus like pose over the giant picture of lentils with a knife protruding out of his head.
"Fuck"
Fern's latest bout of profanity had not come about because she cared for this man, but because she realised she wasn't going to get home in time to watch The OC, a feeling entirely justified since Jeffrey was a bit of a dick and the pay was lousy. Still she didn't want him dead, she thought he was too bland for anyone to want to kill him, clearly the murderer didn't share this opinion.
The news of Dr. Jeffrey Fishbait's death spread like a phenomenon similar to wildfire. An hour after it happened, the checkout operators at the local supermarket were spreading the news to every customer that came through. The news circulated through the retail grapevine with speed, soon Georgia from Sweeties knew, Keith from Jack's Photo Shop knew, Lucy from Golden Tyres knew. There was nothing better to do than gossip, it was winter - there were no tourists to serve.
Soon after Lucy found out, the police caught onto the knowledge. Sergeant Amber Sandles arrived at the lentil factory, followed closely by Sergeant Zeverin Drains. They taped off the scene and Zeverin (his parents were weird) started to gather up evidence. Amber started to interview the witnesses - starting with the secretary, Fern.
"You killed him didn't you?"
Over the years, Amber had developed a rather unique interrogation style.
"No"
"You're lying. I can see it in the way you parted your hair this morning"
"I've been outside his office all morning."
"The classic alibi. You're going down honey pie."
"You don't make any sense"
"No. You don't make any sense!"
The fact that Amber had managed to forge a semi-successful career in the police force is quite possibly a more perplexing mystery than the murder of Jeffrey. Zeverin came over and took Amber aside with some interesting evidence.
"Hey Amber. Check this out"
Before he could show her, she interrupted him.
"Zeverin, do you smell that?"
"Smells like lentils and decaying flesh"
"No, I can smell the combined forces of desperation and religious persecution. Write that down in the evidence book."
Shockingly, Zeverin did. An even more perplexing mystery was the lack of crime in Cable, considering the incompetence of the police force. Zeverin, who was so astounded about Amber's insight into the crime scene had forgotten about the evidence he had just found and after making an entry into the evidence book went back to poke around the body. Amber, figuring that Fern was just about to crack started again on her.
"You slept with his wife didn't you? You wanted him out of the way so the two of you could go fuck on the beach in Fiji!"
"He wasn't married."
"So, you don't deny this then"
"He was emotionally retarded - he didn't have a wife or any significant other for me to sleep with!"
"You really shouldn't speak ill of the dead"
"Fuck you"
Fern stormed off, Amber looked satisfied. She felt she had found her girl. She had a special knack for this kind of thing. Everyone said so. She picked up on all the little things, she could read people like a picture book. She was just that fucking good. Fern would crack, Fern would make her mistake and when she did, Amber would be waiting.
Posted byBren at 5:19 pm
Labels: Cable
poor fishy fishy
Ha ha, Zeverin. He is so rustic.