by steve higgs
I wasn’t entirely convinced most of her colleagues would also help themselves to the chocolate digestives when they found them, but PC Woods put away three while the kettle boiled.
The paramedic came back through the house with what looked like a stripped-down hospital bed on wheels. On it was what I recognised from TV shows as a backboard – a device onto which a casualty could be strapped so they were immobile in transit.
‘How is he?’ I wanted to know.
I got a noncommittal mumble in reply which I took to be a bad thing.
With PC Hardacre also returning, the two officers got down to the task of finding out what had happened. It felt like a slow response – like they should have got to it sooner, but I guess everyone was calm and they were focused on keeping it that way.
John Ramsey explained who he was and why he was at the house, details I already knew. Then he was quite honest about his verbal altercation with Derek earlier.
‘I stormed from the house,’ he admitted. ‘I got in my car and I went for a long drive. I was very angry.’ To me it sounded like a dangerous emotion to admit but he did so willingly.
‘Where did you go?’ asked PC Hardacre, taking notes again.
‘Allhallows,’ John replied with a shrug. ‘It was just somewhere to go. I went down onto the beach and skimmed stones like I used to when I was a kid. That’s our logo, you know.’ He produced a business card. On it was a black and white image of a child skimming stones across a pond.
PC Hardacre recapped. ‘So you left here angry and skimmed stones. Then what?’
‘I calmed down while I was on the beach. I figured I needed to come back to speak with Derek again. I had gotten angry earlier and I shouted at him. We’ve been friends for fifty years and never exchanged a cross word. I was going to apologise and also try to talk some sense into him. He needs to hand over his role as CEO of the firm and he needs to do it now.’
There was that sense of urgency again. It was as if John felt tomorrow would be too late. Also, why did he want it to go to Tarquin? Wouldn’t John, with all his experience, be the better man to take the helm?
PC Woods skipped to the good bit. ‘How did he come to fall from the balcony?’ There was no inflection in her voice to suggest it was an accusation.
As if sensing he might be better off saying nothing, he said, ‘I’m not saying another thing without a lawyer present.’
Neither officer looked surprised.
Woods’ radio squawked as a message came over it – more officers had arrived outside. It was a good thing too, because in the next second, the patio doors swung outward to reveal Joanne and Tamara Bleakwith coming in.
Joanne went nuts!
‘How dare you come back into this house!’ she shrieked at John.
He recoiled, jerking away from her even though he remained sitting. She was coming across the kitchen, advancing with menacing steps. It was fortunate that PC Hardacre was there to get in her way, for I fear she may have physically attacked him otherwise.
PC Woods went to answer the door, letting her colleagues in. A moment later, I heard a voice I knew asking questions. I groaned inwardly and closed my eyes.
‘Ah, Mrs Philips,’ said the voice as it entered the kitchen, and I opened my eyes while wishing the sight before me would turn out to be a bad dream.
‘Hello, Chief Inspector,’ I replied. I first met Chief Inspector Quinn last weekend at Loxton Hall. Standing a mite over six feet tall, he was clean-shaven and pasty white. His neatly trimmed hair was as perfectly turned out as his uniform and he looked the sort who ran every morning before work to ensure he was fit and healthy.
He might be a good police officer, but he wasn’t a particularly nice person and didn’t care one bit if that was what people thought. He acted as if he knew best about everything and believed his authority should be unquestioned. Patricia Fisher made him look like a fool and I had gotten to see it.
He didn’t like that one bit.
Joanne was still seething, her eyes boring holes into her husband’s business partner’s head. However, the paramedics, with her husband loaded on their wheeled gurney, needed to come through the kitchen and that meant she had to move.
‘Mr Bleakwith’s condition?’ asked the chief inspector of the two paramedics.
It was the female of the pair who answered. ‘Stable, but unconscious. Mr Bleakwith needs urgent medical treatment but there are no life-threatening injuries that we can find. The backboard is just a precaution until the hospital can complete further scans of his spine. We really need to get moving.’
Wasting no further energy on words, the paramedics set off for the front door, Tamara going with them.
‘Are you coming, mum?’ she called from the kitchen door.
Joanne still had her eyes locked on John Ramsey. ‘I need to get my keys and purse,’ she replied without looking Tamara’s way. As if noticing the police officers for the first time she said, ‘he pushed my husband. I saw him do it. I will testify to it.’
John looked mortified with shock. ‘But you didn’t see me, Joanne. You were in the living room.’
Chief Inspector Quinn narrowed his eyes. ‘You made sure of that, did you?’
‘What? No! I …’ John Ramsey realised how close to a confession his previous sentence came.
With a nod toward PC Hardacre, the chief inspector said, ‘John Ramsey I am placing you under arrest for the crime of attempted murder …’ he rattled off the standard words of arrest; words I felt sure he must have spoken hundreds of times.
John looked utterly gobsmacked. He was invited to stand, the cuffs going on no sooner than he was on his feet. A nod from the chief inspector and PC Hardacre led John from the room in silence.
I couldn’t say why, but seeing John being led away made me smile. ‘Good riddance,’ I muttered loud enough for him to hear. When he turned his head, I added, ‘This is what you get for being a bully all your life.’
‘Stop,’ commanded Quinn. I couldn’t tell who the instruction was aimed at. Was it me? Or his officers? Or everyone? Whoever it was, the chief inspector’s next words were aimed at me. ‘You know the accused?’
I curled my lip slightly to show how unhappy I was about it. ‘We went to school together.’
‘You are not friends?’ Chief Inspector Quinn sounded surprised.
I shook my head. ‘No, we are not. Even if we had been, I would happily testify that he just attempted to kill Derek. I heard the scream and saw him running from the house.’
‘I didn’t push him,’ John insisted again. He was sticking to his story.
I didn’t bother to argue.
Chief Inspector Quinn looked at Hardacre. ‘Has Mrs Philips given a statement yet?’
‘Not as such, sir,’ admitted PC Hardacre. ‘We were not expecting anyone else to get here this quickly.’
‘Efficient as always, Hardacre,’ replied the chief inspector snidely.
I thought the first two officers to arrive handled the situation remarkably well.
Joanne reappeared with her coat and handbag; she and Tamara were going to the hospital with Derek. However, the chief inspector wasn’t leaving. ‘I’m afraid Mrs Bleakwith that since you have accused a man of attempted murder, it will be necessary for my officers to inspect the house and the location where the alleged assault took place. I’m afraid I must insist that either you or your daughter remain here with us.’
Joanne flapped her lips a couple of times, looking like a fish as she tried to form a response. In the end she managed to say, ‘But I have to go with Derek.’
Tamara came to her rescue. ‘It’s okay, mum. I’ll stay.’
They exchanged a brief hug and a few words before Joanne went for the front door and Tamara took off her coat.
Chief Inspector Quinn called after her, ‘I will need a statement from you still, Mrs Bleakwith. One of my officers will accompany you to the hospital.’
Joanne hurried away, a nod from the chief inspector sending a const
able after her.
PC Hardacre followed her out, leading John Ramsey with PC Woods bringing up the rear.
I was given the chance to provide my statement there and then. In it I listed the events in chronological order. The overheard argument, John’s angry departure and subsequent return more than an hour later, the scream and then John’s flight from the house. I held back from adding any opinion, I doubted it would be helpful, but I did ask if I had done the right thing by blocking his exit with my car and then using Buster to corner the suspect like a cat up a tree.
John was already on his way to the station, probably Maidstone, I guessed.
PC Woods, recording my statement, said, ‘It was very brave of you to stop him leaving like that. I wish we had more citizens willing to get involved.’
‘No,’ argued Chief Inspector Quinn. ‘We do not want that at all, Woods. Well-meaning civilians always cause more trouble than they prevent and create more problems than they solve. Police work is to be left to the police, Mrs Philips. I applaud your bravery, but just like last weekend, I must remind you that what you should have done was stay out of the way and swiftly placed a call to the authorities. We are equipped and trained to deal with such situations. What would you have done if he had been armed?’
‘Screamed and run away,’ I replied snippily. ‘I can run very fast.’
I got a raised eyebrow and an assessing look in return. ‘I dare say you can. Nevertheless, I do not condone your actions.’ His assessing look turned curious, worry pinching his eyes to narrow them. ‘You won’t be calling Mrs Fisher, will you, Mrs Philips?’ he asked cagily. He tried to make the question sound causal and failed miserably to fool me that it was.
However, for a second, I couldn’t work out why he was asking me about my old acquaintance, Patricia Fisher. I hadn’t seen her in years until last weekend. A heart beat later the reason for his question dawned on me like someone turning on a lightbulb – he was afraid I might involve the local sleuth who upstaged him so completely last weekend at Loxton Hall. As a professional crime-buster, it must pain him to have someone swoop in to solve a case when the answer eluded him.
Giving him my full attention, I asked, ‘You think she might take an interest in this case?’
Blustering, he replied, ‘I cannot imagine why she would.’
His behaviour made me laugh, and it also made me act very much out of character for I said, ‘I cannot imagine either. I’m sure she has something far more complex to investigate. Figuring out why John pushed Derek over the balcony railing and proving it was him would be no challenge at all for her.’ I waited for the chief inspector to cast his gaze my way once more, before adding. ‘I think I’ll just solve this one myself.’
PC Woods snorted, a laugh escaping her lips at my direct challenge. I’d basically thrown down the gauntlet or slapped the chief inspector across the face with it – pick your metaphor. The young police officer hid her face, turning so her boss couldn’t see her and walking a few paces away as her shoulders shook.
I cannot for the life of me tell you why I thought to make such a declaration, but there it was, out in the open and there was no way to hide from it now.
The Boutique
Driving to Rochester, I continued to wonder why my mouth had chosen to run away with itself.
‘What on Earth were you thinking, Felicity?’ I asked myself, speaking aloud in the confines of my convertible Mercedes SL sports car. ‘What, you’re going to swap your lucrative career as a wedding planner to be a sleuth just because Patricia Fisher made it look not only easy but very cool?’
I was mad at myself. The chief inspector chose to laugh in my face, undoubtedly because he saw my ridiculous statement for what it was. Now I had to find a way to back down without losing any more face.
From the passenger seat where he was as securely strapped in as one can a sixty-pound furry sack of playdough, Buster said, ‘I think this is the coolest thing you have ever decided to do. I can be your sidekick.’
‘I don’t need a sidekick, thank you, Buster.’
‘Sure you do. All great crime fighters have one. Just look at The Green Hornet, he had Kato. Now there was a cool sidekick.’
‘Where did you see The Green Hornet?’ I wanted to know.
Buster gave me the canine equivalent of a shrug. ‘I was chewing that thingy you keep out of my reach.’
‘The TV remote?’ I guessed.
‘Yeah, that. Well, the TV came on as it usually does if I chew it for long enough and there was this cool black and white show.’
I rolled my eyes. ‘Buster you think all shows are black and white.’
‘That’s because they are,’ he argued. ‘Anyway, that’s the kind of sidekick I want to be. Just like Kato, not some comedy punchbag there to make the hero look good.’
‘I am not a crime fighter. I will not be investigating what happened to Derek.’
Buster turned his head and eyes to look up at me. ‘Please? I need some excitement. Look at my body. Do you think this body was made for sitting around listening to weddings being planned?’ He looked like a baked potato with tusks and a tail. ‘I was built for stopping bad guys.’ He growled and swiped at the air with a paw.
I patted his head. ‘Sorry, Buster, Felicity is a wedding planner.’
I got grumpy noises from him for the next ten minutes which was how long it took to get to Rochester.
I have a small boutique just off Rochester High Street. It’s convenient for my home in Twydhurst, just the other side of the river and I get a lot of passing traffic. Also, the history of the area, the high price of rent, and the delightful ambience the castle, cathedral, and Dickensian architecture bring, all made it not only a great place to work, but also somewhere clients wish to visit.
I could slash my rent by ninety percent if I moved to one of the industrial estates – there were several less than half a mile from my office – but the rich and the famous would drive by me without ever thinking to stop.
The office boasts two bowed windows, one either side of the door. Each is divided into sixteen small panes that give the boutique and displays in the windows a wonderful old feel. They don’t make shops like this now. The period features make the front façade elegant in a way that could not be reproduced using modern materials. The building is over three hundred years old.
I loved all the little features of the place and how well preserved many of them were. Upstairs, there is a fireplace in one of the back bedrooms where children had scratched their names into the brickwork. Hidden inside the flue, I might never have noticed them if the estate agent hadn’t pointed it out to me. Someone – a former tenant – had traced the history of the building back to discover the names belonged to three children living in the house in the 1860s. They would all be long dead now, but their descendants might live in the area still and there was something deeply romantic about the building still holding their names.
I found Justin Cutler at his desk. Justin is in his forties and married with two children. Lean and average height, he also has average looks but wears fabulous suits that make him stand out. He is also one of those people who is brimming with natural confidence. In front of people being the centre of attention is his natural habitat. It made him a very good master of ceremonies. Today his shirt was a dusty shade of pink and his suit was bright white with a thin purple pinstripe. His shoes were white too with purple laces.
Not for the first time, I found myself wondering where he shopped.
Looking up over the top of his reading glasses to see who was coming in – most visitors were by appointment – he said, ‘Oh, hi, Felicity. I see you got away at last. What happened?’
When I called him earlier to cancel our lunch meeting, I gave him only a cursory explanation. Now he got the full run down.
Mindy, my niece and assistant (in that order) came in from a back room where she had been sorting through marketing materials. Now free of his lead, Buster scampered across the room to see her.
/> ‘Is this about the Bleakwiths?’ she asked. ‘Justin said something happened and the police were involved.’
Mindy is as curious as every other teenager I have ever met, which is to say not even slightly interested unless it is something that interests her. I could try to explain marketing techniques and the use of colour for advertising until I was blue in the face; none of it would sink in. However, if I mention the name of a celebrity who might come by the boutique, she is all ears.
Someone getting pushed off a balcony also fell into the category of worth hearing about. At nineteen, Mindy has that almost perfect body most of us remember having. She is tall at nearly five feet ten inches, and moves with a sinuous, almost feral, quality. She wears a lot of black, tight-fitting clothing designed to move with her body and is a black belt third dan in karate, I recently learned. Her hair is pink, undercut with jet black to give an effect which I wouldn’t want for myself, yet must accept suits her. Today, she had on office wear – a grey pencil skirt and a silk blouse. The heels were colour matched to the blouse. I give her an allowance for clothing because in this game we need to look the part.
I backtracked a little going over the events of Derek’s house again so she could hear. I ended by admitting my foolish challenge to the chief inspector.
‘Oh, cool!’ cheered Mindy. ‘I can be your sidekick!’
I sniggered. ‘Buster already claimed that job.’
I got an odd look from both Justin and my niece and worried I was going to have to laugh it off as if it were just my little joke. I told you earlier I have a habit of forgetting no one else knows about my special ability.
Justin said, ‘Seriously though, you’re not going to investigate, are you?’
‘Goodness, no,’ I found myself laughing at the idea even though I had to acknowledge I rather fancied wiping the smile from the chief inspector’s face. ‘No, I have far too much to do already.’ I really did. Pushing silly thoughts of searching for clues from my mind, I took out my tablet. ‘I have notes from today’s meeting with the Bleakwiths.’ I got down to business, calling Mindy across to my desk. If I was going to treat her as a serious assistant and teach her the ropes, she needed to start learning how to manage people.