Abacus

business owner Fred Kennedy, is that right?” Randall inquired.
    “Yes , that’s right.”
    “How’s business , Fred?” Randall asked pleasantly.
    “Okay, not great, but what can you do, times are tough these days,” Fred answered warily.
    “Fred, I’m not here to dilly dally around, I’ll make it quite simple. I want you to hand over all the war medals you have received in the last week, and our job here is done. Understand?”
    Fred appeared off- guard. “Well, Detective, I’m not in the business of accepting war medals and definitely not stolen merchandise, for that matter,” he said as if deeply offended.
    “Is that so? ” Randall said, casually picking up a golf club from a nearby bag and practicing his swing. “Well, Fred, that, my friend, is total bullshit. You and I both know that,” he said as he looked down the shaft of the club for any imperfections.
    “I… I don’t know where your information came from, Detective, but it is definitely not reliable,” Fred said nervously. “I run a reputable business here. Speak to the local police, they will tell you.”
    “Listen , Fred,” he said, leaning on the club. “You seem like a reasonable kind of guy, and on first brush a relatively intelligent man. So let me make this clear. Our little meeting here can go two ways. It can be a very cordial affair or it can go very, very badly for you. Your attitude towards my line of questioning will determine which it is to be.” Fred was about to respond, when Randall interjected. “Fred, before you dig yourself in deeper think to yourself; out of the five hundred or so pawnshops here in Sydney, why would two detectives from Ashfield choose mine to look for stolen war medals.”
    Fred remained silent , scratching his balding head as he weighed up his options. He obviously decided to take the chance and stand his ground. “I honestly don’t know what you are talking about, Detective. We don’t do that sort of thing here.”
    Almost on cue , Hobbs strolled over to the front door and slid the locking latch across. He then flicked the cardboard “Open” sign on the glass door to “Closed”. Effectively, Fred was closed for business until this matter was resolved. Fred watched as the imposing figure of Hobbs lumbered towards him.
    “You see, Fred,” Randall cautioned. “My rather large friend here has a personal interest in getting those medals back; they were stolen from his family.” Fred looked Hobbs up and down as the giant took up a position uncomfortably close to him.
    Pointing the golf club at Fred’s head, Randall warned, “We know the medals are here and if you continue to bullshit there is no doubt he will lose his cool. Once that happens you’re on your own. I’ve tried to stop him in the past, but he just can’t be stopped. He’s a thrashing machine, you know what I mean?” As Fred considered his options, Randall changed his club to a putter and worked on his short game.
    Sweat was now visible on Fred’s brow. He was fearful, and he had every right to be so. “Al l right, Fred, where are the safe keys,” Hobbs demanded, causing him to flinch.
    “Well , guys,” he said clearing his throat. “Let me check with my part-time worker and see if he may have inadvertently taken some. Perhaps he may have, you know, I’m not always here.”
    Hobbs gave him a st eely stare. “You do that, Fred… and make it quick.”
    “I’ ll find out right now,” he said, picking up his mobile phone from the top of the glass display and walking to the back of the store. He returned seconds later, shaking his head.
    “Let me guess, he ’s not answering,” Randall said impatiently.
    “Yeah, it’s really unlike him. ”
    Hobbs banged his large fist on the glass display. “How much longer are you going to stuff with us!”
    Fred gestured to the back of t he shop. “I’m really sorry he’s not answering, guys. Follow me, if he did take medals they would be out there.” He reached onto his belt and removed a large key ring with dozens of keys attached. He led them out to a dark room at the rear of the store, where his hands shook nervously as he searched for the correct key. At the very rear of the store he stopped at a large, old freestanding safe. “Here we go,” he said, inserting a skeleton key into the door lock before twisting the big brass handle.
    As the heavy door swung open, Fred rummaged inside, while doing his best to shield the contents of the safe with his portly