Fry and Cork Investigations
(She Was) An American Girl
"Hi, can I get the paper and a twenty pack of Benson and Hedges, please?" asked Leon Cork, reaching into his pocket for a ten pound note.
Mr Rasheed passed across a copy of The Guardian and the cigarettes automatically and took the note from Leon.
It was a cold Thursday afternoon in Oxford and Leon had spent the morning running an errand for his father, Vincent Cork, the designer behind the Cork clothing label that had stores all across Europe. Now, it was Leon's time to do what he did best - absolutely nothing.
Mr Rasheed passed Leon's change across the counter and Leon yawned his way across to the door. He hunched his shoulders inside his long grey trench coat and quickly made his way back to the road where he'd parked his Porsche Boxster. He was proud of his, voted one of the top ten best cars since 1997. Of course, he'd only been driving for six years (officially, at any rate) but he, like all young men with money, had always dreamed of having a beautiful car.
His girlfriend Cynthia, daughter of the wealthy landowner Charles Cunningham, had always admired his appreciation for cars even if she hadn't shared it. She'd also always made it perfectly clear that she preferred her Mercedes.
His friend Hazel didn't have a car or the money to buy one. In Leon's opinion, this made Hazel's opinion worth absolutely nothing.
But that was only where cars were concerned. Because Hazel was without a doubt the smartest person he'd ever known. And Leon had graduated from Oxford University only two years before. There were plenty of clever students there, filling the streets and pubs with an air of sophistication. But they just didn't use it in the same way as Hazel. He'd seen her mind fast hand and it was a force to be reckoned with.
Having said that, Hazel was more than happy house sitting for her Grandmother while she was away in Scotland, looking after her cat Gibbs and spending her evenings doing crossword puzzles.
Leon finally reached the spot where he parked his car but as he went to open the door, to his horror, it was stuck fast. Leon laughed nervously and tried again, doing his best to be gentle while at the same pulling on the handle as hard as he dared. He couldn't help noticing that a few school boys leaning on a fence nearby were giggling at him.
Leon was about to throw them an unpleasant glare when a silky American accent behind drawled, "Are you having some kind of problem with your car?"
Leon turned around and found himself faced with a girl. She was only an inch taller than him, with thick, glossy blonde hair and a winsome smile. Leon couldn't help feeling even more embarrassed now but refused to show it. Leon didn't get flustered in front of girls. Not even ones that looked like this.
And so Leon laughed, grinning at her and replied, "No, the old girl's just being a little temperamental. She's jealous because I left her too long."
Leon was never sure whether girls found it cute or not when he referred to his Boxster like it had gender or feelings. But the girl laughed back, her gloved hand on her hip. Well, it was really on her coat but Leon wasn't in the mood for quibbling.
"May I give you hand?" Before Leon could do much to resist her voice, the American had rested her Louis Vuitton handbag gently upon the bonnet of the Boxster and with one quick jab of her wrist, the door slid open in front of his eyes.
"I guess you must have loosened it a lot," smiled the American. Americans always seemed to have excellent teeth, Leon had always noticed.
Leon quickly overcame his shock and in a trice he had offered her a lift and they were sailing up the High Street and on their way. In a very short amount of time, Leon learned a lot about the American.
Her name was Annie Wheeler and she'd moved to England to chase a career in acting. ( "I've already been in a few things - I've got a line in the new Ridley Way film that's coming out next month with Benjamin Hurst in it." ) Annie lived in one of the new flats on Divinity Avenue which were both very select and very expensive. Leon liked her a lot already.
He dropped her off outside the flats and they agreed to meet later on that night so he could show her around Oxford.
As Leon drove away, he had an uneasy feeling in his stomach. Could it be guilt? He didn't think he was going to try anything with Annie. He could play the good Samaritan for the evening. He wasn't sure what Cynthia would have to say about that but, as he reminded himself, Cynthia was across the Channel in Paris and certainly not free tonight. She surely wouldn't expect him just to sit at home every night, waiting for her to come back. Leon certainly didn't want Cynthia's time in Paris to spent sat in watching bad French television.
While Leon managed to satisfy his guilt, something was still not right. It was almost as though there was something else he'd agreed to do that night that had completely slipped his mind.
And it was then Leon remembered that he had agreed to drive across to Cowley and fix Hazel's fridge. Of course, Leon wasn't really going to help fix the fridge at all. It was just Hazel's way of asking for company because she was too proud to admit that she was actually in need of some good company.
And normally Leon wouldn't have minded at all but the prospect of showing American Annie around the centre of Oxford was just too good an opportunity to pass up. He would have to come up with a excuse. One that would be good enough to fool the enigmatic wonder that was Hazel's brain.
Mr Rasheed passed across a copy of The Guardian and the cigarettes automatically and took the note from Leon.
It was a cold Thursday afternoon in Oxford and Leon had spent the morning running an errand for his father, Vincent Cork, the designer behind the Cork clothing label that had stores all across Europe. Now, it was Leon's time to do what he did best - absolutely nothing.
Mr Rasheed passed Leon's change across the counter and Leon yawned his way across to the door. He hunched his shoulders inside his long grey trench coat and quickly made his way back to the road where he'd parked his Porsche Boxster. He was proud of his, voted one of the top ten best cars since 1997. Of course, he'd only been driving for six years (officially, at any rate) but he, like all young men with money, had always dreamed of having a beautiful car.
His girlfriend Cynthia, daughter of the wealthy landowner Charles Cunningham, had always admired his appreciation for cars even if she hadn't shared it. She'd also always made it perfectly clear that she preferred her Mercedes.
His friend Hazel didn't have a car or the money to buy one. In Leon's opinion, this made Hazel's opinion worth absolutely nothing.
But that was only where cars were concerned. Because Hazel was without a doubt the smartest person he'd ever known. And Leon had graduated from Oxford University only two years before. There were plenty of clever students there, filling the streets and pubs with an air of sophistication. But they just didn't use it in the same way as Hazel. He'd seen her mind fast hand and it was a force to be reckoned with.
Having said that, Hazel was more than happy house sitting for her Grandmother while she was away in Scotland, looking after her cat Gibbs and spending her evenings doing crossword puzzles.
Leon finally reached the spot where he parked his car but as he went to open the door, to his horror, it was stuck fast. Leon laughed nervously and tried again, doing his best to be gentle while at the same pulling on the handle as hard as he dared. He couldn't help noticing that a few school boys leaning on a fence nearby were giggling at him.
Leon was about to throw them an unpleasant glare when a silky American accent behind drawled, "Are you having some kind of problem with your car?"
Leon turned around and found himself faced with a girl. She was only an inch taller than him, with thick, glossy blonde hair and a winsome smile. Leon couldn't help feeling even more embarrassed now but refused to show it. Leon didn't get flustered in front of girls. Not even ones that looked like this.
And so Leon laughed, grinning at her and replied, "No, the old girl's just being a little temperamental. She's jealous because I left her too long."
Leon was never sure whether girls found it cute or not when he referred to his Boxster like it had gender or feelings. But the girl laughed back, her gloved hand on her hip. Well, it was really on her coat but Leon wasn't in the mood for quibbling.
"May I give you hand?" Before Leon could do much to resist her voice, the American had rested her Louis Vuitton handbag gently upon the bonnet of the Boxster and with one quick jab of her wrist, the door slid open in front of his eyes.
"I guess you must have loosened it a lot," smiled the American. Americans always seemed to have excellent teeth, Leon had always noticed.
Leon quickly overcame his shock and in a trice he had offered her a lift and they were sailing up the High Street and on their way. In a very short amount of time, Leon learned a lot about the American.
Her name was Annie Wheeler and she'd moved to England to chase a career in acting. ( "I've already been in a few things - I've got a line in the new Ridley Way film that's coming out next month with Benjamin Hurst in it." ) Annie lived in one of the new flats on Divinity Avenue which were both very select and very expensive. Leon liked her a lot already.
He dropped her off outside the flats and they agreed to meet later on that night so he could show her around Oxford.
As Leon drove away, he had an uneasy feeling in his stomach. Could it be guilt? He didn't think he was going to try anything with Annie. He could play the good Samaritan for the evening. He wasn't sure what Cynthia would have to say about that but, as he reminded himself, Cynthia was across the Channel in Paris and certainly not free tonight. She surely wouldn't expect him just to sit at home every night, waiting for her to come back. Leon certainly didn't want Cynthia's time in Paris to spent sat in watching bad French television.
While Leon managed to satisfy his guilt, something was still not right. It was almost as though there was something else he'd agreed to do that night that had completely slipped his mind.
And it was then Leon remembered that he had agreed to drive across to Cowley and fix Hazel's fridge. Of course, Leon wasn't really going to help fix the fridge at all. It was just Hazel's way of asking for company because she was too proud to admit that she was actually in need of some good company.
And normally Leon wouldn't have minded at all but the prospect of showing American Annie around the centre of Oxford was just too good an opportunity to pass up. He would have to come up with a excuse. One that would be good enough to fool the enigmatic wonder that was Hazel's brain.
♠ ♠ ♠
This is my new story everyone.Will only be about ten chapters or so. It is a mystery story after all.
Hope you like it and that some of you are able to solve the mystery!
By the way, the title is a little tribute to Tom Petty's song American Girl. Because he's great!