Inspector Fred

(When we last left Fred, Jonathan had narrowly missed killing a puppy and the toque guy had taken off his toque which had exploded)

   A fiery inferno bellowed out and enveloped the car, but, surprisingly, did not harm it.  The fire died away, leaving the alley charred and smoking with Jonathan and Fred perfectly intact inside of the car.
   Jonathan smiled. “This car may not look it, but it’s completely explosion proof.”
   Fred snorted. “But it can still get beat up by fire hydrants?”
   “I can’t be expected to think of every contingency, can I?”
   Fred shrugged. “Guess not.  But try to explain the one that just blew up.”
   Jonathan’s smile turned smug. “Apparently the terrorist took off his toque.”
   Fred nodded.  “Of course he did.  I told you they use those things for everything.  Even bombs.  He probably has a spare that he’s now wearing.”
   Jonathan sighed. “Of course.” He stuck his phone back into his pocket. “Well the tracking system is no good anymore.”
   “Why not?”
   “Because now we don’t know if someone is wearing the toque we’re tracking or if it’s another bomb waiting for us.”
   “Oh.  Good point.”
   “Thank you.”
   Fred drummed his fingers on his leg. “In that case, now what?”
   Jonathan rubbed his stomach. “I’m not sure.  But I do know that I’m feeling a bit hungry.  I suggest we set up base at a hotel and,” he checked his watch. “Plan our next move over lunch.”
   “Good idea.”
   Jonathan backed out of the alley and a few minutes later they were outside a very nice hotel.  Fred looked up at it doubtfully.
   “I don’t think I have the cash for this place,” he said.
   Jonathan waved him off. “Don’t worry about it.  My treat, partner.”
   “Why thank you.”  Fred bowed. “After you.”
   Jonathan returned the bow, then walked inside to get their rooms.  Fred waited in the car, but after a little while he got bored so he got out of the car and went up to the hotel.  He glared at the automatic doors as he approached, but they opened promptly enough and he passed through without incident.
   He found Jonathan at the front desk arguing with the attendant.
   “What’s up?” he asked.
   Jonathan gestured to the attendant. “This fellow here says there are no open rooms.”
   The attendant was a nice looking young man.  Black hair, brown eyes, impeccably clean uniform.
   Fred patted Jonathan on the shoulder. “I’ll handle this.”
   He edged the older man out of the way and leaned over the desk gesturing for the attendant to do the same.
   “No rooms?” he asked, almost in a whisper.
   The attendant tilted his head forward. “What’s that, sir?” he asked in a completely British accent.
   Fred raised his voice a little. “I said, no rooms?”
   “Ah,” the attendant nodded. “That’s right.  No rooms.”
   Fred glanced around at the deserted lobby. “Not a single one?”
   The attendant shook his head. “No, sir. Not one.”
   Fred narrowed one eye. “You know what I think?”
   “I cannot begin to guess, sir.”
   Fred nodded slowly. “Of course not.  I think that you aren’t telling nothing but the truth, the whole truth, and the truth.  In other words, I think you’re spinning us a web of long yarns.  Tales that stretch way up into the sky.”
   The attendant was looking a bit confused.
   “Aha!” Fred exclaimed. “I can see I have you now.  And do you know what I think you’re up to?”
   The young man gave a small cough. “I shudder to think.”
   Fred gave a sharp nod. “You should.  I think you’re in league with the PEANUT terrorists!”
   Surprise showed clear on the attendant’s face, mingled with fear, but he didn’t say anything.
   Fred leaned in closer, so that his feet came off the floor, and lowered his voice again. “But, I also happen to know that you are not a willing accomplice.”
   Something akin to awe appeared on the attendant’s face and he also leaned closer. “How did you know that?”
   Fred shrugged and grinned. “A hunch.” He dove back into stern detective mode. “Which you just showed correct!  Don’t bother denying it.  I can see through you like Jell-O.”
   Instead of delivering the brilliant comeback he no doubt had ready, the attendant gave a small sigh and sank to the floor behind the desk.  Jonathan ran around and felt his pulse.
   “Don’t tell me he’s dead,” Fred groaned. “I hadn’t reached my epic conclusion!”
   Jonathan stood up, his face grave. “He’s dead.”

   To be continued…