The Fashion Police by Sibel Hodge Read Free Book Online

the pigs again. I’ve already reported my stolen van to you lot and got a crime number.’ He tried to shut the door again. ‘So, not today thank you, Miss Piggy.’
    ‘I take it you don’t want the insurance payout on the van, then,’ I said, trotting back down the path. ‘Fine by me.’
    The door flew open and Callum stuck his head out. ‘What do you mean? What’s the insurance got to do with you coppers?’
    I gave him a smug smile. ‘I’m not a copper anymore. I work for your insurance company, and I’m the one who gets to decide if your claim is legitimate or not. Anyone who calls me Miss Piggy instantly gets their claim denied.’
    Bates pulled the door open further, leaning his short, scrawny body against the doorframe. His jeans hung frighteningly low over his skinny hips. I hoped they fought gravity for just a little longer. I didn’t want to be around when they fell down.
    ‘Is this a trick? I bet you’re still a Miss Piggy copper, aren’t you?’ A blob of engine oil dripped off his crusty sweatshirt and plopped onto the doorstep.
    ‘Nice top,’ I said.
    ‘What are you now, the Fashion Police?’ He smirked and tugged at a hair growing out of his ear. ‘Anyway, who says I get my insurance claim denied?’
    ‘It’s in the rules.’
    ‘What rules?’
    ‘The insurance claim anti-abuse rules, number three. See ya.’ I gave him a wave and pulled my car door open.
    ‘Hang on a minute,’ he yelled down the path.
    ‘Yes? Do you have something to say?’ I cupped a hand to my ear.
    He mumbled something inaudible.
    ‘Sorry, couldn’t hear that.’
    ‘SOR-RY!’ he screamed.
    I grinned. ‘That sounded a tad insincere, Callum. Why don’t you try again?’
    His shifty eyes darted up and down the street. Eventually, he said, ‘I’m really, really, really sorry. Satisfied?’
    I shut the door and retraced my steps over the obstacle course of car parts that lined his front path. ‘Now that wasn’t so hard, was it? So what’s all this about your van? Do you seriously expect me to believe that Mr. Gone-in-Sixty-Seconds has had his own van stolen?’
    He bit a grimy fingernail. ‘It’s true!’
    ‘What, like the time I arrested you on Christmas Day for driving a stolen car, and you said Santa Claus must’ve delivered it to your house by mistake?’
    ‘Yeah, Santa Claus is always making those kinds of mistakes. It happens every year.’
    I glared at him.
    ‘But it’s really true this time,’ he added quickly.
    ‘OK. Then how about you tell me about the other guy.’
    He stopped gnawing on his nail. ‘What guy?’
    ‘The one you were talking to outside your house the night the van was allegedly stolen. The guy you shook hands with, who then drove off in your van.’
    ‘Have you been talking to that crazy old bat next door?’
    I folded my arms and waited for an answer.
    ‘I don’t know what you’re talking about. The van was stolen, and, unless you can prove otherwise, I’m going to get my insurance money,’ he sneered at me, revealing teeth that looked like they hadn’t seen a toothbrush in very long time.
    ‘OK, if it was really stolen, then you won’t mind taking a lie detector test, will you?’ I smiled and watched him squirm.
    ‘They don’t have them things here. They only have them in American films.’ His voice cracked slightly.
    ‘Oh, yes, they do,’ I fibbed.
    ‘Don’t.’
    ‘Do.’
    ‘Don’t,’ he insisted.
     I rolled my eyes and yawned. ‘Boring!’
    Suddenly his gaze sharpened. He peered at me closely. ‘Have you got paint in your hair?’
    I touched my head. God, I thought it had completely faded by now. ‘Don’t be ridiculous! Anyway, call me when you want to do the test.’ And I disappeared quicker than Doctor Who’s Tardis.
    ****
    I beamed up at the Hi-Tec office half an hour later.
    ‘Yo-yo,’ I said to Hacker as I strolled in.
    He glanced up. ‘It only one yo.’
    I shrugged. ‘I’m saving time. I can say hello and goodbye together.’ I