hand.
‘I’m sorry. I don’t mind the police looking around, but you boys have the filthiest shoes I’ve ever seen. Would you mind awfully just waiting for the officers to do whatever it is they have to do? You’re welcome to stand on the porch to keep out of that drizzle, and I could make you some cocoa if you’d like. It’s powdered milk, though, I’m afraid.’
A corporal raised one eyebrow at the cops, who shrugged it all off. ‘Yeah, whatever,’ agreed Banks. ‘If you don’t mind us poking around, Mrs Kipper?’
Barb smiled sweetly, firing up her long-dormant Homecoming Queen charm. ‘Well, if you could try not to wake my daughter. I’ve just put her down, and her sleep’s been very disturbed since… you know.’
When James Kipper’s wife felt like it, she could be all eyes, tits and teeth. Even the older cop was taken in by the display. ‘We’ll try not to disturb her, ma’am,’ promised Sergeant Banks.
They padded through the kitchen, and Kip watched with a lurching heart as the two of them headed towards the cellar door. Curlewis, the younger one, flicked on the lights as he went, forcing Kip and Barbara to flinch and squint at the fierce glow. They hadn’t had the place lit up in a month.
‘So, would you boys like that cocoa?’ she asked brightly.
Kip’s heart was racing and he felt like his guilt must be writ large on his face, but the army corporal only smiled and nodded enthusiastically at the offer of a hot drink. ‘That’d be awesome, ma’am.’
‘Will you be out all night?’ Barb asked as she set about fixing up their cocoa. ‘It’s going to be terribly cold, I think. It’s been so chilly and awful, hasn’t it, since the Wave came?’
Her husband tried not to look concerned as the police disappeared down into his cellar. He tried to imagine where Barney might have hidden himself away down there at such short notice. The place was a mess, with dozens of packing crates from their original move to Seattle still stored down there. But really, there weren’t many places a grown man could hide himself.
‘Who’d like a marshmallow?’ trilled Barb.
His nuts felt like they were retracting inside his body as he heard the cops shifting boxes and talking to each other down there.
‘Mr Kipper? Sir? Could you come here?’ It was the older policeman, the sergeant.
Giddy and shaking ever so slightly, Kip excused himself and walked down the hallway. He stopped at the head of the staircase. They hadn’t been able to find the light switch and the cellar was lit by two torch beams. ‘Something I can help you with?’ he asked, forcing the fear from his voice.
‘Yes, there is. Could you come down here, sir?’
He trod carefully, descending the steps. ‘Something up?’
‘Yeah,’ said Banks. ‘You know there’s an emergency ordinance against hoarding, don’t you, sir?’
Kipper almost stammered in reply. ‘What?’
‘You’ve got a lot of rations stowed down here, sir. I hope you didn’t stock up recently’
‘I… uh… I… no. No, I didn’t, Sergeant. I’m a hiker. I got those supplies about six months ago, in Spokane, when a camping warehouse closed down.’
‘Got receipts, Mr Kipper?’ Curlewis called out in the semi-darkness.
Completely flummoxed now, Kip could only shake his head at first. ‘Uh. No… No, wait – I paid for them with my Visa. It’ll be on the statement, if you need to see it.’
He felt like he was trapped in some absurdist Eastern European play, one of those fuck-awful theatre-of-pain things he’d seen with Barb when they first started dating. Man, the things you do to get laid.
‘Okay,’ said Banks. ‘That’ll be fine. If you could fax it through to me on this number.’ He handed Kipper a card. ‘I’m afraid I do have to report it, sir. But if you’ve got that statement you’ll be okay.’
‘Great,’ replied Kip.
The cops gave the cellar another once-over but seemed satisfied and picked their way through the clutter back towards the stairs. Kipper moved back and aside to let them up. He could smell the heady aroma of cocoa wafting in from the kitchen and hear the muffled voices of the troops as they thanked his wife. Banks and Curlewis then checked every room on the ground floor before moving towards the staircase up to the bedrooms.
‘My daughter’s room is the first on the right,’ said Kip softly. ‘If you could just, you know, be quiet up there
The three of them stepped lightly up the stairs and carefully pushed Suzie’s door ajar. She was wrapped up in her Barbie quilt, with just a tuft of hair poking out. He could see that her room, normally quite neat, was an utter shambles, with toys all over the floor and clothes strewn everywhere. Banks gestured to his younger, more agile partner to get down and check under the bed, which Curlewis did by shining a light under there.
He shook his head. ‘No bogeymen. No terrorists.’
The room had no cupboards – always a source of frustration to Barb – but every drawer in Suzie’s dresser was open, with items of clothing hanging out. The lid was off her jumbo toybox, which had been crammed full of furry friends, dress-up costumes and an inflatable Barney the Dinosaur.
‘Sorry about the mess,’ Kip whispered. ‘Kids, you know.’
Banks rolled his eyes. ‘I got three.’
The officers searched the other bedrooms and the bathroom, but without success. At last, with Kip’s heart fit to burst out of his rib cage, the sergeant flicked off his torch.
‘Think your wife has any cocoa left?’ he asked.
‘There’s always some to spare,’ said Kipper.
