Alfie knew Esther would have his hide if she knew he had come down here, but he had a mission. He had laid on his back for far too long and, yes, he had struggled to get here, and didn't feel all that well, if he had to admit it, but this was important. For everyone concerned. Besides, he'd taken a taxi. It wasn't as though he'd walked the whole way. Although, had he the choice, he wouldn't use a taxi for anything. A wasteful expense when he had two good legs. They weren't that good at the moment, though, and he knew it.
This place felt more cold and sterile than even the hospital. Stark, un-cushioned, metal seats gave him no comfort. It had a sense of despair about it that Alfie had never experienced before and he didn't even want to think what it would feel like to those brought here against their will. What the hidden back rooms and corridors could look and feel like, he couldn't imagine. It felt oppressive, as though only sitting here he had become mired in something awful.
The walls were all plastered with photocopied posters, each detailing one horrible thing after another. Phrases repeated, in red, with the same numbers in bold letters, practically ordering people to call. This was only the reception area of the police station and Alfie felt glad he had never had to see the other side. Frederick had and that raised Alfie's ire that the lad had had to suffer such indignities.
It seemed like hours passed before a heavy door opened and a tall, heavy-set man, hair cropped short, trousers and pressed, white shirt fighting against a spreading waistline. Pointed toed shoes that Alfie had never liked to see on anyone, giving the man an odd, imbalanced look to him. In his hand, he carried a folder, looking through it as he entered the reception. A lanyard, hanging at an angle, mingled with a bland, disorderly tie.
"Mister Dibbs? Thank you for coming down, though I wasn't expecting you so soon." The man closed the folder, offering a hand that Alfie shook as he pushed himself to his feet, putting far more weight on his walking stick than usual. "I'm Detective Sergeant Wise. How are you feeling?"
"Better'n dead." Alfie leaned down to pick up the bag he had brought, but DS Wise got there first, lifting it with ease. "Now then, it's as come to my attention thy thinks the lad next door 'as got some-at to do with that fire and I'm telling thee, he hasn't."
"Well, we'll talk about that somewhere more private, shall we?" Wise swung the folder, indicating another door to the side, then tapped in a code to open it. "We're still pursuing enquiries."
The room looked even more dystopian than the waiting area. One table, plain and simple, two chairs, a recording device and, in two corners, cameras pointed down toward the table. Alfie didn't like it. It felt like something from an episode of The Sweeney. Wise pulled out a chair, laying Alfie's bag against the table leg, then moved to the other chair, taking a seat and dropping the folder onto the table surface.
Without saying a word, Wise opened the folder then produced a notepad and pen from his pocket, opening that pad, clicking the pen and using it to review the large amount of printed words upon the first page in the folder. Every so often, Wise would look up and smile, but Alfie had never seen a more fake one in his life. The man looked at Alfie as though wondering what laws he had broken, trying to dig into his mind for a confession.
"Now, as I was saying, that lad's done nowt, and thee folks have done nowt but bother him since he came here." Alfie stomped his walking stick against the uncarpeted floor, sending sharp echoes through the tiny room. "I'll not have thee making out I think the lad did it. I shan't!"
"Young Mister Douglas is known to us, Mister Dibbs. I've had his file sent over from London." Wise flipped a page then ran the pen down a list. "Suspected shoplifting. Theft. Vandalism. Assault. It's a long list. There are indications that he was involved in drug dealing and since he arrived here, incidents have risen. It's only a matter of time before we catch him at something."
"Aye? And how many of them were only suspicions? Eh? How many convictions? How much evidence?" Even as he said it, he could see the frown on Wise's face. Alfie had hit the nail on the head. "Thee lot 'as never had owt on him, has thee? Thy sees a black lad and thee first thought is that he's a wrong 'un."
"We're not at liberty to discuss those incidents." Wise flipped the page back before clasping his hands together, resting them on the table and giving Alfie a serious glare. "We have good reason to believe Mister Douglas set that fire, for what reason we still have to determine. We believe it was to hide theft of your bikes and ..."
"Bicycles. They're called bicycles. And the lad had no reason to steal owt from me." Alfie leaned forward, matching the glare with Wise. "If that lad wanted the clothes off my back, he'd have 'em. And he knows it. He's no need to steal from me because I'd give him owt he wants. Black lad. That's thy 'reasons to believe' and nowt else."
"I assure you, Mister Dibbs, we take the matters of racism and bigotry very seriously. We are investigating Mister Douglas because he is the most likely suspect." Again, Wise flipped over pages, though, this time, in his notebook, tapping one page. "We have a credible witness who states they saw Mister Douglas enter your garden carrying a green, plastic petrol can."
Wise sat back, tugging at a leather belt that barely managed to contain the flowing gut that threatened to burst, like a flood, from the cheap shirt. He looked far too satisfied with himself, but Alfie wasn't having any of that. He had faced down men as big as Wise, and more aggressive, more times than he could count. The type of men that thought their size and their supposed authority gave them leave to intimidate anyone.
People like Wise never tried to intimidate folks of the same size, or at their level of authority, though. They always punched down. Always tried to impose on smaller people, or people beneath their station. Alfie had lived his life in this area, where fights in the Working Men's club were a regular occurrence. He had never backed down to bullies. Not at school, not as an adult and certainly not here. Wise thought he had proven a point, but he'd proven nothing.
"Aye? A witness? At gone twelve at night? So, you're saying to me, that Frederick bought a can of petrol from somewhere, carried it into the street, from his gate to mine, down into my back yard to set fire to bicycles because he wanted to steal them when he could have any one of them whenever he wanted?" His old, gnarled, arthritic forefinger tapped the table surface with every point. Even that made him short of breath. "And thy has a witness to that, does thy?"
"A credible witness, yes." Wise folded his arms across his chest, as though those words had won the argument, but Alfie had come prepared.
Reaching down, he opened the bag he had brought with him. Inside, he had carried his laptop and he hadn't realised how heavy it was. Still, it was going to be worth the burden to wipe the smug look from the Detective Sergeant's face. A look that had changed to furrowed browed curiosity as Alfie placed the laptop onto the table. Without any due care, he pushed the folder and Wise's notebook back along the surface.
It took a while for the laptop to start but, as soon as it did, Alfie moved to the videos that Benjamin had showed him how to download. Alfie knew he had made the right decision, buying that security system. It only took him a few seconds and soon he had the ones he wanted to show. First, one that showed Frederick practically jumping over the fence between the gardens, phone in hand as he dropped to the side of Alfie.
When he had first seen this, it had almost broken his heart to see the lad cry as he called for an ambulance. Esther had arrived not long after and, together, mother and son cared for Alfie until the ambulance arrived. Alfie knew, however, that that wouldn't be enough to satisfy Wise. No doubt the officer had already started to form the words to say Frederick had enough time to return to his house. Alfie knew exactly what he was doing, however.
"Now, I reckon this here lad is your 'credible witness'?" He tapped on another video, showing the lad, Micky, sat upon his bicycle at the other side of the street, earlier that day. "Don't bother denying it. There's more."
Now Alfie played two more videos. The first, appearing to confirm that Micky was, indeed, the witness, wheeling along the street outside Alfie's garden, the time stamp matching the near time of the fire, past the privet bush and wall, hiding all but the lad's head and shoulders. Alfie played the video again, pausing at one point as Micky rode past the gate. It wasn't clear, but it showed that he carried something. Now Detective Sergeant Wise sat forward, paying closer attention, and Alfie delivered the final blow.
A video inside the big shed, in 'night vision', showing someone, someone short, entering the shed with a petrol can in their hand and spreading the flammable liquid everywhere. The video went on until the figure dropped the petrol can, reaching into their pocket and pulling out a lighter. A flip lighter that the figure sparked, held up and then tossed into the centre of the shed. Flames erupted, momentarily blinding the camera, but it adjusted and ... Alfie paused the video.
There, looking up at the camera as they turned to leave the shed, was Micky. The lad probably thought the fire would destroy the camera and its footage, but Alfie never did anything in half-measures. Benjamin had said the cameras uploaded everything to the internet, and he was right. Micky had no idea. Alfie didn't say anything else, only turning the laptop for Wise to look through the footage once again.
"I'd appreciate if you could provide us with copies of these videos, Mister Dibbs." Rubbing his forehead, Wise began writing in his notebook, then paused, looking up. "You could have just shown me all this at the beginning."
"Nay. Thy wouldn't have learned thee lesson that way." Alfie reached into his pocket, wiped his nose with his handkerchief and returned it. "Besides, it were far more funny and satisfying to see thee squirm like this."
He tried to hide it, but Alfie saw the knowing smirk upon Wise's face. Now, after this, perhaps Frederick, Esther and himself could finally have a modicum of peace.