The Daily Dormouse. (aka Bike) Part 1132 by Angharad Copyright © 2010 Angharad All Rights Reserved.

There were no reporters about when I took Danny to school the next day and the television van was also gone. Maybe it was an accident after all–probably the most likely scenario, I mean this is Portsmouth, not downtown Washington DC or even London, where the body count rises nightly. Yet there was something niggling away at me, making me want to question things, but how?

I drove out to Mr Edwards’s house, it was where I’d thought it would be, a detached house with a reasonable sized garden. I didn’t see any police in evidence, so with my camera hidden in my pocket, I parked the car and walked over to the house.

I wanted to see the fishpond, not for any gruesome enjoyment, but to see if it looked likely that he fell into it. It wasn’t visible from the road, and it was surrounded by gardens on three sides, at some point I’d have to trespass.

I walked in and up to the front door and rang the bell. There was no answer. If there had been; I’m not sure what I’d have said. So I casually walked round the house to the rear garden.

There was the fishpond with police tape round it and keep out notices. I ducked under the tape and took some pictures of the pond, some stones were misaligned at the one edge. I wondered if it was where he fell. I closed my eyes and I thought I got an impression of him being hit on the back of the head before he fell. I also got the distinct smell of cigarettes, so either he or his assailant smoked, perhaps both.

I turned round and Inspector Old was standing the other side of the tape. “Can’t you read?” he asked me.

“Sorry, I needed to see the pond.”

“Funny, you don’t look much like the average ghoul.”

“I’m not, I needed to see it. He was struck from behind with a piece of stone, the assailant smoked.”

“I see, and how do you know that?”

“Which?”

“All of it.”

“I had a vision of it happening just before you spoke to me.”

“Oh and did your vision let you see the killer?”

“Not quite, but it was a man who was taller than him and I think he might have been left-handed, at least I think he was hit by the left hand.”

“I presume you deduced this from the way the footmarks in the grass looked, or was it from a freshly slaughtered sheep’s liver.”

“I’m not a haruspex.”

He gave me a quizzical look. “Not many people would be familiar with such a term.”

“I read a lot.”

“So it would appear.”

I shrugged, “You’re obviously an accomplished detective.”

“Unlike you, Mrs Cameron, or should that be, Lady Cameron? Now, do I arrest you for interfering with a crime scene?”

“Interfering? All I’ve done is examine it.”

“No magnifying glass, Dr Watson will be disappointed.”

“The sort I use means you need to be about two inches away from the subject you wish to examine.”

“Ah, yes, your dormice–what do look at, the faeces?”

“Only ever find those in captive animals, they spend most of their time in the tree canopy when they’re awake, so can poop anywhere. No we examine the shells of the nuts they’ve been eating.”

“Ah, tooth marks?”

“Yes, dormice have a particular way of eating hazel nuts and acorns.”

“Fascinating, now do I arrest you?” He nodded me to leave the pond side, lifting the tape for me to duck under.

“I’ll come quietly guv’nor,” I said holding my wrists out in front of me for easy cuffing.

“I did a little research on you after yesterday, it seems that few of my colleagues manage to reach pensionable age without some catastrophe happening to their careers once they meet you.”

“Must be all that liver gazing I do.”

“Shouldn’t think a dormouse has a very big one, has it?”

“No, but then with my lens, I might just be able to make out some minuscule message that everyone else misses.”

“Like today.”

“No, I didn’t have my lens with me today.”

“Pity, although Inspector Morse could solve the most outlandish crimes in two hours, including the adverts, alas, I take much longer.”

“Yes, but you don’t have Sergeant Lewis to help you.”

“How true, it would seem I now have a Lady dormouse, instead. There’s a reasonable coffee shop just a few minutes away, would you care to share notes?”

I nearly fell in the fishpond myself, here was a copper doing all the wrong things–was it just to wrong-foot me, or to discover what I knew? I’d have to watch this guy, he was very clever.

“Um–yes, okay. I’ll follow you then.”

“Is that so you can hide your camera in the car?”

Damn, he’d seen me taking the photos. “Okay, we’ll take one car, if you want.”

“No, we’ll take two, I have places to go after here, and I’m sure you do with dozens of adopted children. Tell me, did Charlie want so many children?”

“Charlie who?” I blushed.

“Charles Watts, noted authority on dormeece, suddenly disappears as you mysteriously appear. Then I look on the internet and after a bit of digging, I see why he had to go. I suspect you made the right decision, at least from where I’m standing, and the fact that you’re married, means you’ve done the gender panel thing. I’ve met the odd transvestite and even one or two transsexuals, but you take the biscuit. I’d never have known without my research.”

“But you just had to bring it up to show me how clever you are, didn’t you? I think I’ve changed my mind about the coffee. I’m a bit choosy with whom I take coffee.”

“Ouch, still a bit touchy are we? You will come to coffee with me, and you’ll also bring your camera with you–I want to see what you photographed. Follow me, and please no funny business, or you will end up in irons.”

I stormed my way back to the car–impudent prig, just who does he think he is? I turned my car round and followed him the half a mile to the cafe, parking next to him. We entered together and he led me to a quiet table in the corner. “How do you take your poison?”

“Latte,” I answered and switched on the camera. He looked at the pictures and shook his head.

“What were you photographing, I can’t see anything here?”

“The damaged or displaced stone along the side of the pool, it’s very recent.”

“Yes I know, our SOCO people examined every square inch of the place.”

“It’s murder though isn’t it?”

“Yes.”

“And I’m right about the left handed man and the weapon, aren’t I?”

“Yes, how do you know that, are you an accomplice of the assailant?”

“No, I told you, I saw it happen in my mind’s eye. The blow was from behind and on the left side of Mr Edwards head. I saw the hand of the attacker.”

“Are you sure you weren’t there?” He went quiet as the coffee was delivered, he had an espresso, so he was probably a caffeine freak, too.

“No, only just now, but I had a colleague whose parents lived just round the corner.”

“Ah, so you know the area?”

“I wouldn’t say I know it, but I’ve cycled down this road a few times.”

“Ah, before you married into money?”

“Don’t be so insulting, I had a very nice bike before I met Simon. In fact, it was his sister knocking me off it that caused us to meet.”

“Oh, not so good.”

“The original impact wasn’t, but the consequences have been very good on the whole, and I love him very much.”

“I presume he knows about–um–your past?”

“No, of course not–do you think I’m stupid–of course he knows. He might not be a genius, but he’s one of the nicest men alive.”

“Good, I’m pleased for you–it must be difficult–um doing what you did.”

“It’s not easy, but I’ve been fortunate. Now you know all about me, how about some self revelation?”

“Sorry, me copper, you assisting my enquiries, I do the questions, you answer them.”

“I could report you for being a patronising twat.”

“Feel free, won’t be the first time.”

“No but my complaints tend to carry a bit of weight.”

“Now who’s showing off?”

“Your wife’s name–no, you’re not married, you live with Martina, who’s from abroad and you have one child, a boy called Gavin.” The information seemed to present itself in my mind.

“You’ve done your research, too? I’m impressed.”

“You had an injury here,” I touched his left shoulder, “It still gives you trouble.” I laid my hand on his shoulder and he winced.

“Jeez, your hand is hot, ouch it’s burning.”

“Keep still,” I chided him.

“Bloody hell, who are you?” he touched his injured shoulder and moved his arm up and down. “The pain’s gone–just who or what are you?”

“Not someone you want to mess with.”

“Is that a threat?”

“No, simply some friendly advice. Tell Martina to keep Gavin off gluten, he’s developing an allergy to it.” I rose from the table, “Thanks for the coffee,” and left, not having drunk any of it.