Addicted to Death

by Matthew Redford

  Arthur Crown, aghast at the turn of events, lunged for the swordfish. Lemons spotted his movement and threw himself into Crown rugby style, bringing the old butler to the floor with a crash. Yet despite his age Crown was far from finished. He rolled Lemons over and landed a blow to the jaw of the young policeman knocking him straight out. Oranges, seeing his partner in trouble jumped up, threw off his camouflage helmet and ran forward at Arthur Crown who span on the spot and landed a karate style kick to the midriff of the citrus fruit, sending him flying and knocking the pips out of him. With Dorothy trying to prevent Leah Brown from making a getaway, Wortel, pepper spray in hand, was left facing Arthur Crown.

  “No carrot is going to take me down.”

  “Anything you say may be used in evidence…”

  “Shut it.”

  “…in a court of law…”

  “I said shut it.”

  Crown charged at Wortel who raised the pepper spray in anticipation. Crown though was ready for this and shielded his eyes with some pre-prepared side salad that was in a bowl alongside the revolving Llewellyn Morris. Butler and carrot collided, the force of the impact causing Wortel to lose his grip on the pepper spray. Crown, using his extra body weight, pinned Wortel to the ground and slipped his hands around Wortel’s throat. Wortel, choking, spluttering, groped around for the pepper spray which was just out of his reach.

  Dorothy seeing her boss in deep trouble decided to take the unethical route of smacking Leah Brown hard in the face causing her to slump to the floor. She turned and ran towards Wortel whose outstretched hand groped aimlessly in the moonlight. As she got closer Dorothy bent down, grabbing Oranges’ camouflage helmet he had rashly discarded and pummelled it firmly into the back of Arthur Crown’s skull. The impact made a sickening thud. Crown looked shocked at Wortel, his eyes rolling into the back of his head as unconsciousness took hold and he fell forward.

  “Thanks,” gasped Wortel.

  “Any time boss,” said Dorothy who found herself the last person standing. “Look you need to get up as I need your help. I’ve no idea how to get a fat TV chef off a spit roast at nearly 1am in the morning.”

  Day 9

  28

  Mr Bramley’s exceedingly good confession

  Wortel placed his hand to his stomach as if that would prevent the noise from rumbling across the office.

  “I think I just heard the first cuckoo of lunchtime,” said Dorothy who was wearing a broad smile as she worked her way through the paperwork associated with the escapades of the previous night.

  “I don’t think it’s hunger causing my stomach to groan,” replied Wortel. “I think it’s moaning because it’s realised I still have two more of these bloody forms to complete.”

  “I’m on my last one,” said Dorothy with a deliberate air of boastfulness.

  “Yeah, yeah. You homo sapiens can type quicker than us foodies. That’s a well known fact.”

  “That you’ve just made up.”

  “Dorothy Knox. Are you questioning the integrity of this senior carrot?”

  “Yes. Especially when he’s making up nonsense.”

  As Wortel and Dorothy both sat back in their chairs laughing PC World came gingerly into the office, looking at the lonely door hinges and the splintered wood. Wortel looked at PC World and felt his jaw start to lock.

  “I hope you’ve news on the door,” asked Wortel.

  “I haven’t I’m afraid sir, but I do need to speak with you.”

  “Nope, not happening. We’re not to speak until the door is fixed.”

  “Stop teasing him Wortel,” chastised Dorothy.

  “I’m not,” replied Wortel who had a mischievous look in his eye.

  “Sir. It’s important.”

  “So is the news about my door.”

  “Sir please. It’s Mr Bramley. He’s just walked into reception and confessed to the murders of Benedict and Darcy Blacktail and Professor Partridge.”

  “My God PC World. Don’t ramble on about the door when you’ve news like that to share. Get your priorities in order man,” snapped Wortel rising from his desk.

  Oranges and Lemons, who had been studiously completing their paperwork, leapt into the air, high fiving each other.

  “Yes!” shouted Lemons. “We said it was him all along.”

  The interview room was deliberately bleak having been painstakingly decorated this way following advice from Eel Decor the famous interior designer.

  The room was sparsely furnished with just a small rectangular drab brown desk with two chairs on either side. The chairs for the suspect were cold metal framed units which looked, and were, the epitome of uncomfortable. On the other side of the desk were two leather recliners with arm rests, cup-holders and a built in massage facility which meant that Chief Superintendent Archibald was often having to fend off claims that interviews lasted far too long.

  The three walls which the suspect could see were painted an off-white, grey colour with just a square framed clock positioned directly in their eyeline so they could see how long they had been in the room. The wall behind the suspect, which the interviewing police officers could see, was computerised to project images of glorious sunsets, waves crashing onto rocks and lambs frolicking across a meadow, which was meant to stimulate creative interrogation tactics. While a good idea in principle, the technology was prone to faults resulting in one particularly unfortunate incident when, following an IT upgrade, the wall of the interview room projected a live streaming of a somewhat suspect adult webpage. While embarrassing in its own right, Chief Superintendent Archibald had more difficulty explaining why the sickness record of the station suddenly spiked as multiple officers suffered crush injuries trying to get into the room.

  Mr Bramley had been led to the interview room following his confession in the middle of a stunned reception. Wortel approached the interview room puzzled, and somewhat disturbed, by the sudden and unexpected realisation that maybe Oranges and Lemons had been right after all. He’d felt justified ignoring them, because, well, they were idiots. The gleeful duo skipped behind Wortel who had grudgingly agreed to them attending the interview with Mr Bramley but only on the proviso that they didn’t speak.

  Mr Bramley barely looked up as the three officers entered the room. Oranges inserted a tape into the recorder and started the machine.

  “Good afternoon. The time is 1:15pm and present in the room is Detective Inspector Wortel, Officer Oranges and Officer Lemons. For the record can you state your name please?”

  “Mr Thomas Bramley.”

  “And you wanted to speak to us today Mr Bramley. What was it you wished to say?”

  “I killed Benedict and Darcy Blacktail. I also killed Professor Partridge.”

  “Why?”

  “I dislike food sapiens.”

  “Tell me what happened.”

  Mr Bramley paused for a moment and then began talking again.

  “I waited for them at home and hit them on the head. I sneaked into the Strawberry Strip Club and came across Partridge and hit him as well.”

  “As simple as that then.”

  “Yes.”

  Wortel sat and looked at Mr Bramley who was keeping his head low and his eyes lower. A piglet trotted across the back wall followed by a lamb skipping and some ducks waddling closely behind. Wortel watched them disappear off the wall and wondered to himself how you knew when a lamb stopped skipping and started frolicking. He caught himself mid thought and turned his gaze back to Mr Bramley.

  “Why are you lying Mr Bramley?” Oranges and Lemons looked across at Wortel in surprise.

  “I killed them.”

  “Nope. Not buying it. Tell me in detail. And Mr Bramley, try looking at me as you speak.”

  Mr Bramley lifted his head and looked at Wortel. “Charge me. I killed them.”

  “In detail please sir.”

  “I hit them with an iron bar like it said in the newspapers. What more do you want. Charge me.”

  “What type of
iron bar Mr Bramley?”

  “It was a plain old iron bar. You know, like a small scaffold pole.”

  “Okay. What did you do with the pole?”

  “I threw it in the stream at the bottom of my orchard. It’s probably miles away now.”

  “Describe the pole to me.”

  “A pole’s a pole. I found one on my way to the Blacktails’ and used it to kill them. End of story.”

  “I want to know how wide it was, how long it was. Every single detail.”

  “How wide it was? What’s that got to do with anything?”

  “DI Wortel wants to know if it was a spoon you see,” blurted out Lemons without thinking.

  Wortel’s eyes widened and he spun in his leather recliner so that he was face to face with Lemons whose colour was draining quickly from his face.

  “Yes, I remember now. It wasn’t a pole. It was a spoon. A large metal spoon.”

  Wortel put both hands on the table and pushed back his chair, the legs scraping loudly and painfully across the floor. “Interview suspended,” snarled Wortel through gritted teeth as he banged his hand on the tape recorder bringing its whirring to an abrupt end.

  “You two. Get out of here now.”

  Dorothy had been with Wortel in many situations and had seen what she thought was his full range of emotions and yet when Oranges and Lemons ran for cover back into the offices of the Food Related Crime Division closely followed by an incandescent carrot, she realised they had pushed buttons she had never managed.

  Sensing that Wortel might actually be in danger of harming two of his own team, Dorothy decided to step in and play peacemaker. Besides, how would Chief Superintendent Archibald report that on the monthly crime statistics?

  “Woah, let’s calm down everyone. It can’t be that bad?”

  “Calm down. They’ve just compromised the bloody interview.”

  “Now, come on Wortel. No situation can be that bad. Tell me what’s gone on.”

  “I told them to be quiet and to let me lead, but oh no, Mr Bramley is sitting there lying about killing the Blacktails and Professor Partridge with an iron pole, oh no was it a scaffold pole and this one…” Wortel raged waving a hand in the direction of Lemons “…can’t keep his mouth shut and tells Mr Bramley the murder weapon is a spoon.”

  Dorothy’s jaw dropped and she turned to Oranges and Lemons who looked at her doe-eyed hoping for a degree of comfort and support.

  “Good luck boys,” she said, “you’re on your own with this one.”

  Wortel’s verbal volley lasted for longer than both Oranges and Lemons cared to remember although they were spared the worst which was reserved for PC World who popped his head through the non-door and asked if the noise could be kept down.

  Dorothy had retreated back to her desk and had busied herself searching for some information on screen. Finding what she was looking for she punched the air. “Wortel, you need to see this.”

  “Tell me. Is it good news?”

  “It’s great news.”

  A puce faced Wortel walked behind Dorothy’s desk and looked on screen and started to read the section that she had highlighted. A smile broke across his face and his shoulders started to unwind.

  “And this is why I love you Dorothy Knox. Can you print me that page please?”

  “Already have boss,” she replied. “It’s coming off the copier just now.”

  Wortel made his way back to the interview room passing a red-eyed PC World who was being comforted by PC Vee. World kept his head down as Wortel briskly walked past. As Wortel approached the interview room a number of officers were crowding around the entrance to the door trying to get into where Mr Bramley was located.

  “What’s going on?”

  “The computer imaging has gone wrong again sir. It’s playing back last night’s football highlights. Wayne Rooster has just scored a cracking goal.”

  Wortel eventually managed to get everyone out of the interview room and back to work much to their annoyance. Re-starting the tape recorder Wortel turned to face Mr Bramley.

  “Mr Bramley. Tell me about your diet.”

  “What?”

  “Tell me about your diet. I want to know what you eat and drink.”

  “I don’t see the relevance.”

  “Answer the question.”

  “I eat and drink anything I want.”

  “Really? You can eat and drink anything?”

  “Well, okay not everything. I have high cholesterol you see. I have to follow a low fat diet.”

  “Good. Now we’re getting somewhere. Tell me, do you avoid all fatty foods.”

  “Yeah of course. Look what is this? I killed them all, charge me, don’t give me a diet sheet.”

  “In good time Mr Bramley. Do you like full fat milk?”

  “Can’t drink it can I. Haven’t touched it for years. I’ve just said I have high cholesterol, weren’t you listening?”

  “Perfectly Mr Bramley. And now I’m going to release you, although to be fair I should charge you with wasting police time.”

  “You’re releasing me? Why? I’ve told you I killed them with a spoon.”

  “We found residue of full fat milk at both crime scenes. You don’t drink full fat milk, meaning you are lying and therefore did not kill anyone. I also have your information from your police file which clearly shows you must follow a low fat diet.” Wortel slapped the piece of paper Dorothy had printed in front of Mr Bramley. “I knew you were lying earlier before one of my officers blabbed. So good-day Mr Bramley. I’ll have an officer come along and make sure you are escorted off the premises.”

  Wortel flicked off the massage facility on the chair, stood up and removed the tape from the machine. He gathered himself and headed for the door.

  “DI Wortel wait.”

  Wortel turned back to Mr Bramley who had a look of sadness and worry on his face that Wortel hadn’t noticed before.

  “I need your help. It’s Alex Pine. He’s my son you see. When I got into trouble with the police his mother left and he’s never been able to forgive me. I knew something was wrong when we came face to face here and then I saw the newspaper reports saying he’d been arrested. I’ve been in prison before and I know how to handle myself so I thought I could exchange my freedom for his. He might have done something stupid but he’s still my boy.”

  Wortel tilted his head to one side as he listened to Mr Bramley admit the real reason behind his fake confession. Wortel sat back down at the interview table, turned the chair on to a deep Swedish massage and leaned back contemplating what he had just been told.

  “Tell me Mr Bramley, what is it about your son that makes you suspect he might be responsible for three murders? Because you must think there is something otherwise why would you be here?”

  Mr Bramley looked straight at Wortel. “He’s not himself is he? I mean all of these protests against food sapiens. It doesn’t make any sense. Not after the way he was with Victoria.”

  Wortel sat bolt upright, the hairs on his neck standing on end. “With Victoria? What do you mean?”

  “Victoria Plum. They were stepping out together.”

  “How do you know that Mr Bramley?”

  “I saw them together in town once. I tried to speak with him but he rushed off and dragged Victoria with him. She obviously got him to tell her who I was as she came to visit me at the farm a week or so later. I don’t think he knew she’d come but that wasn’t my business.”

  “What did she say Mr Bramley? Tell me as much as you can remember.”

  “We spent a few hours together and she told me about her life, what she was trying to do with the Strawberry Strip Club, you know, everyday stuff, that sort of thing. I told her about how I met Alex’s mother, his early years and also the trouble I got into. She was very understanding. I can see why Alex was besotted with her.”

  Wortel sat and reflected on what Mr Bramley had told him. Besotted. That was a strange choice of word. How would Mr Bramley know that was t
he case?

  “Mr Bramley. You used the word besotted. Why? How would you know?”

  “Victoria’s choice of word not mine, but it stuck with me too. I asked her what she meant and she said he could be a little obsessive, paranoid even. She felt he was besotted with her.”

  “I guess that’s what caused him to wage his food sapiens campaign then,” said Wortel aloud. “I bet she asked him for some space or similar and he’s flipped out. Probably thought he was being abandoned all over again.”

  Mr Bramley winced at what Wortel had said, causing Wortel himself to feel a pang of guilt.

  “DI Wortel. Tell me, is Victoria okay?”

  “I hope so Mr Bramley. I really do hope so.”

  Wortel left the interview room with a knot in his stomach. He had Pine in custody and he let him go. His call. And now who knows what was going to happen. Victoria Plum was missing and the evidence was starting to point back towards Alex Pine having kidnapped her or worse. And it was that thought that worried Wortel more than anything.

  Wortel walked into the Food Related Crime office and found Oranges and Lemons working hard on their paperwork. Neither looked up, afraid that Wortel might unleash another verbal volley at them.

  “Where’s Dorothy?”

  Oranges answered nervously. “Dr Richards called from the hospital and said that she’d found something to do with the egg shells. It took Dorothy over half an hour to work out what she was saying. Her lips are like hot air balloons apparently.”

  Wortel nodded. “Well let’s hope they come down better than the Hindenburg. Look, tell Dorothy to give me a call if she finds anything. I’m going to see if Alex Pine is at home.”