A Sprinkle of Sabotage by Fiona Leitch (famous ebook reader TXT) 📕

was paying them too much attention; she was obviously trying to play down whatever was happening. A van with the words 24 Hour Locksmith and a padlock and key logo on the side pulled up nearby and a man – presumably the locksmith – jumped out, reaching into the back for a bag of tools. Lucy rushed over to him, talking quickly, and led him to the trailer. The small crowd parted and the man with the tools stood and looked at the door.

‘You are so nosey…’ I jumped as Tony joined me, carrying two hot dogs in long buns. He gave one to me. ‘Onions and ketchup but no mustard.’

‘Thank you.’ I took it from him and took an enormous bite, getting ketchup on my nose. He shook his head and reached out a finger to wipe it off.

‘Mucky pup. Can’t take you anywhere. What are we looking at?’

I didn’t answer straight away. We watched as the locksmith took out a special tool and started to very carefully unpick the lock.

‘Faith’s got herself locked in,’ I said. Tony laughed.

‘Nothing too dramatic, then.’

‘No…’ I took another bite of sausage. ‘Who’s that bloke in the baseball cap?’

Tony squinted. ‘I think that’s Sam Pritchard. The director.’ He swallowed a lump of sausage. ‘Funny, innit? I’ve seen all his films but I couldn’t pick him out of a line-up even if my life depended on it.’

‘Mmm…’ I watched as the director (if that was indeed who it was) spoke to Lucy and then hurried away. ‘How do you lock yourself inside a caravan though?’

‘What do you mean?’ Tony watched the scene with rather less interest than me.

‘Well, it’s a caravan, not Fort Knox. It’s only going to have a Yale lock or something, isn’t it?’ I’d done my fair share of caravan cleaning, growing up as a teenager in a holiday town. Most of my friends had had summer holiday jobs doing the same thing. ‘When you go inside and pull the door shut behind you it locks, yeah? So no one can get in from outside without a key.’

‘Yeah.’ Tony sucked up a straggly slice of fried onion that was threatening to escape from his bun.

‘But all you do if you’re inside is turn the little knob thingy and it opens. So why doesn’t she just open it?’

Tony looked at me. ‘Your sixth sense tingling again, is it?’

I shrugged. ‘It’s the police training. It never leaves you… Maybe she’s collapsed. Maybe she’s been taken ill and can’t get to the door.’ We watched as the locksmith stopped picking the lock and bent down to stare very carefully into the keyhole. Jeremy, who had stayed close by, stepped up to the door and spoke, directing his words towards the caravan, before stepping back again.

‘Hmm,’ I said. ‘So much for that theory.’ I felt Tony turn towards me in surprise. ‘He didn’t knock or shout or anything, did he? So the person inside the caravan – presumably Faith – is probably just on the other side of the door. And neither Lucy nor the director seems particularly worried, just a bit stressed. So Faith isn’t lying unconscious or anything like that.’ I looked around. ‘No one’s panicking enough for her to be ill. These all look like technical crew, not medical staff.’

‘Well, that’s good, then, isn’t it?’ said Tony, losing interest.

‘Yeah, so why doesn’t she just open it?’ I watched as the locksmith turned to the first AD and gestured to the lock. She stepped forward again and put her eye to it, but she obviously couldn’t see anything as she shrugged. The locksmith gestured to the door and it looked to me like he was out of ideas.

I started forward but Tony grabbed my arm.

‘Hang on, what are you doing?’

I smiled. ‘I’m just going to offer my assistance. And find out what’s going on.’

‘So, so, nosey…’

I strode across the gravel and stopped next to Lucy and the locksmith, who were still talking.

‘…mechanism’s buggered,’ he said, and then stopped as they both looked at me.

‘I’m a bit busy,’ said Lucy. ‘What is it? A problem with your costume?’

‘No…’ I started, and then stopped. ‘Does it look like there’s a problem with my costume?’ I tugged self-consciously at it.

Jeremy Mayhew had stopped to give me a really obvious once over, but turned away (I was slightly offended by the speed with which he’d decided I wasn’t worth more than a casual glance) and spoke to the door again.

‘Look at the lock one more time, darlin’. You see that little knob? Just give it a turn—’

‘For Christ’s sake, Jeremy, I know how to open a bloody door! I haven’t locked myself in!’ I recognised Faith’s voice from inside the caravan; she sounded just like her character off the telly. And ready to explode.

Lucy was still staring at me, waiting for me to explain myself.

‘No, sorry, I was just coming to see if Ms Mackenzie might like someone to bring her some food if she’s stuck in the caravan?’ I said, in my most helpful voice. ‘I could get her a plate from the food truck.’

‘Oh, yes please!’ said Faith, before Lucy could react. ‘Why didn’t you think of that, Lucy?’ The first AD glared at me, like it was my fault the caravan had a dodgy lock.

‘I’ll get someone…’ Lucy said, but Faith’s disembodied and slightly exasperated voice interrupted her.

‘No, let her do it. She’s already here and willing. What’s your name?’

‘Jodie,’ I said. ‘Is there a window we can talk through? Might be easier than shouting through the door…’

‘Round the back,’ said Faith. I walked around to the back of the caravan. There was a wide window which I guessed must run the length of the lounge area, but it was too high to look through from ground level and heavy net curtains had been hung there for privacy. I looked around; there was a plastic storage crate nearby. I tipped out the cables that were inside and carried it over to the