A mysterious fire in the basement, eh? All those cat-lovers running scared, glancing over their shoulders, worried about who’s gonna be next. One car in their ‘secure’ underground basement gets set on fire by night; the next day it could be all of them! A whole row of burning cars, their assets melted to nothing more than scrap metal.
I probably shouldn’t have put it that way in my article, but you’ve got to get those clicks, see. Now I’m workin’ with all the mechanics – all of them, wahey! I’m talking to mechanics Fairfield wide, right out as far as Preston. There’s even a nice little mechanic’s shop down near picturesque Thornbury on my books. By which I mean that I asked if they’d seen anything suspicious, and then asked them not to sell any gasoline to any folks who looked suspicious. See, these mechanics, they know everything that goes on. They’ve got their ways, they’ve got their contacts, and they talk – just like us reporters do.
Ah, what am I saying? Reporters don’t talk to other reporters! We don’t share scoops. That’s the first thing they teach you in reporter school: you got yourself a scoop, you protect that thing with your life, with your life. See?
So, cars. Burning ones, to be precise. Maybe somebody’s got a vendetta against roadworthy certificates. Maybe they hate transmissions services and want all manual cars gone, and this is the incredibly slow way they’ve chosen to get it done. Without any more facts, I’ve really got nothing here. I’ve gotta call in all the info I can from my mechanic chums, do a proper stakeout, see if I can’t catch this guy or gal in the act. They’ve got something against the car services Coburg locals depend on? Well, that ain’t gonna be a secret for long! I’m gonna blow this story wide open.
Nobody messes with the wheels in my town and doesn’t have it reported in the tabloids. Nyah!