Free Little Fingers! by Tim Roux

So we all got
under the duvet, and we fell asleep.
     
    * *
*
     
     

Chapter
6
     
    You must
admit, Inspector, that while this book may not solve your case, you
are getting some titillation on the side. Does it turn you on, the
thought of three bare-breasted, bare-bottomed and bare-minded women
in a bed, and all of us beautiful? You know all about Mary and me.
You have not seen Alice. She is dark, Latin, skinny, full of
attitude and some resentment. You would like her physically. Her
behaviour would almost certainly irritate you. It would depend
whether your mind or your body was in control at the
time.
    I wish I could
introduce you. To do that, I would have to know where she is. I
assume that she is with Mary somewhere, if they are still together;
if they were ever together. They probably are.
    Who is paying
for them now? They took all the spare cash I had in the drawer as
they left, and they “borrowed” two of my credit cards, but I
blocked both of them after a few days, and the money must have run
out. At least, I have assumed that they took them. Mary and Alice
went missing, the money went missing, and the cards went missing,
all at the same time. I haven't heard a thing from them. I am
beginning to be more worried than angry. Surely, if they could at
least e-mail me. They could find a cyber-café anywhere, although
Mary probably wouldn't.
    I am still
hoping that what happened is what I feared would happen. It is a
strange thing to hope that your fears have come true. However, it
is better than any likely alternative. If they have been abducted,
that would be really horrific. I do not wish to imagine it. They
could be held in a cellar in Feyrargues somewhere by outraged,
puritanical villagers, or whatever the Roman Catholic version of
puritans are - possibly Cathars - this is Cathar Country, the
motorway signs proudly proclaim. If so, why am I not there too? It
doesn't make sense, so I doubt it. I think they have simply slid
off, forever, for a month, maybe for a few weeks. Maybe they will
be back when the money, or the lust, or the fascination runs out.
Maybe I will never see them again. There will be a huge gap in my
story which is the future-history of Mary and Alice which I will
never learn.
    Three is never
a good number. It has inherent instability. It induces neuroticism,
and I am a neurotic character. I am not afraid of people. I am not
afraid of direct danger. I am afraid of situations and how they can
develop to destroy my life. At base, I have no faith in the
universe, no faith in a generous and protective God, no faith in
people. We are all on our own, watching out for ourselves, making
choices that we believe further our best interests, even when we
describe them in altruistic ways. Human beings are animals. We may
not be the most successful living beings on the planet (I cannot
talk to beetles, mice, dragonflies, birds and crocodiles), but we
are certainly the most aggressive and domineering. You see
something, you take it, and you try to get away with it. Or, if you
are more cunning and calculating, you try to work out the last bit
first.
    At this moment
I hate Mary and Alice, I am not sure which more. Alice is a thief,
an amoral twenty year old thief. Mary has betrayed me. I think that
the betrayal is worse. When a thief steals something from you, she
has made no commitments to you. She has just found something of
yours which has sneaked itself loose, and she has seized it. She is
a predator. Mary, on the other hand, committed herself to me and I
to her. She took all my secrets, all my fears, all my hopes, all my
future away with her, leaving only their dark shadows - guilt,
anxiety, and helplessness.
    The car is
still there. Everyone has been searching high and low, and no-one
has tracked down a taxi picking them up from here. The nature of my
car is my best alibi. Nobody believes that I could or would
transport two trussed or dead bodies in an open-top Smart Roadster,
and there is no evidence that the