Think I Can Fly

Last Bite

[prompt: 'motive' 8/2/2019]

"The inescapable fact, ma'am, I'm sorry to say... the perpetrator possessed all three of the crucial elements to successfully commit the crime."

"Really?" Nobody yet had even faintly considered a 'perpetrator'. Most believed it was an accident of fatal wear and tear of time, slowly but relentlessly draping its reality around the ageing structure. "What do you mean 'perpetrator'? What three?"

The Forensic Fire Investigator hired by the insurance company uhrrmed and aahhed importantly before answering. "MEANS. MOTIVE. OPPORTUNITY, ma'am." He straightened to stand even taller, tightened his mouth and proclaimed, "... without those three, this misadventure could not have happened. I have unequivocally established that he had..." and he held up his left fist and lifted his fingers one by one, counting them off with his other hand - 

"1) he [or she] had the tools necessary to commit the crime,

2) and an actionable idea to commit it, and

3)an unencumbered window of opportunity to follow through his/her intention.

Is that clear enough for you ma'am?"

Despite his rather condescending tone, Christine shook her head, deeply bewildered. The shock of their losses had shaken her badly. "No... no, it's not clear. Not at all. Sorry, I seem not to be making sense of anything today. No real sleep last night, you know. Up and down many times from bed. And just as well. Twice the fire flared again, and one time the nearest fire-fighting unit had to come again to extinguish it. It was a 'phone book still smouldering. Can you believe that? A stupid 'phone book. You know those thick old city ones? We'd brought one with us when we moved." She was gabbling. She knew it, but couldn't seem to help it. So many treasures [and necessities, too] lost forever. The realisation was only beginning to sink in. Thankfully, this day she had no idea how many times, years into the future, both her husband and self would search for some little-used item, finally having to face it. "Lost in the fire," they would say. And sadness would be a living thing all over again.

"But who would do this to us? We have no enemies. A random attack? Here? So far out of town?"

The Investigator softened, seeing Christine breaking down with confusion and pain. "The 'animal' who did this to you had no personal issue, ma'am." And he gently laid his hand on Christine's shoulder. "It's likely it was nothing more than curiosity made him commit this crime. He must've been carefully observing your husband going about his work from a dark corner. And him going to that old refrigerator and removing food. Can't rule out hunger, of course... another probable motive. Trouble was, with the perp's limited intelligence, he had no understanding of how this process worked. All he could imagine was to sever the wire coating of the connection to the fridge's power point. He would never have known what hit him. Death would have been instantaneous, if that's any consolation."

Christine's tear-stained face had become incredulous. "Are you saying... ?"

"Yes ma'am. The perpetrator of your shed fire and all your losses was a RAT!"