BLINK - Chapter Four
The Wheels Of Justice Run Slow
“You've got this all wrong.”
“We'll get to that in a minute, sir.” He closed the door and took notes on what the old couple were telling him. A few statements into his shoulder radio and then he came back.
“All right, if you'd like to confirm your name for me, sir?”
“It's Blaze. Isaac Blaze.”
“B-L-A-Z-E. Like an arsonist.”
“Well I wouldn't put it like that.”
“I'm sure, sir. And could you tell me what business you had in the church tonight?”
“I was… looking for my cat.”
“Cat. That's the animal, or short for Catherine?”
“The animal.”
“OK. And could you please explain your connection to Markus Mereu and Abigail Arns?”
“I'm not familiar with those names.”
“Not familiar.” He wrote that down and then took the leatherbound book from the front seat and pointed to the inside cover. “So this would be another, Isaac Blaze, would it, sir?”
“What? I never signed that. It's not my book at all.”
“Eye witnesses have you fleeing the scene with it. Possession is four-and-a-half-fifths, sir.”
“I wasn't fleeing. I was running to safety.”
“Thank you, sir. The fire marshals are going through the site now. Once they're done, I'll come back to you with how we're proceeding. Unfortunately I can't remove the handcuffs for safety reasons, so please bear with me.”
He finished a second round with the elderly couple and came back to me.
“Will this take much longer?”
“Fire Marshal likes to be thorough,” he said. “Gives us a chance to go through things again. If you could state your name for the record.”
“It's Blaze. Isaac Blaze.”
“B-L-A-Z-”
“-E. Yes. Like an arsonist.”
“Arsonist, eh? Not sure you ought to have phrased it like that, sir.”
“Forgive me, but I hardly think the situation calls for wit.”
“Right you are, sir. And your business at the church tonight?”
“My cat. The animal. No affiliation to Mereu or Arns. The book is not mine, I was not fleeing. All as I told you before.”
“Indeed, sir. You've certainly got your story.”
“It isn't a—” He closed the door and spoke into his radio. The elderly couple began shivering and eventually he put them in the back of the cruiser with me.
“Can I offer anyone a coffee?”
“What’s taking so long?” I asked. “It’s been over forty-five minutes.”
“Standard procedure, sir. The wheels of justice run slow. Still, I'd be much obliged if we could—”
“I won't answer those questions again.”
He left us alone and the oldies huddled together, away from me.
“I really wasn't fleeing, you know,” I said. “It might speed things up if you told him so.”
“Don't be daft, lad,” said the old man “We're in procedure now.”
“Fine. Sit here. But if that wretched bus comes back, we've all had it.” I reached into the front seat for the book.
“You, put that down, lad.”
“Come on, you blasted thing.”
A scalding pain burned my wrists.