The Daily Dormouse. (aka Bike, est. 2007) Part 3019 by Angharad Copyright© 2016 Angharad

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This is a work of fiction any mention of real people, places or institutions is purely coincidental and does not imply that they are as suggested in the story.
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I wasn’t really surprised if she had seen my two attackers and this time they would be aware that I fight back which may mean they came back with more force or that they simply went on to find a less difficult victim. Walking back through the village, it’s nowhere big enough to be seen as a town, I think we spotted our two miscreants in action. They seemed to be talking volubly to a woman who was remonstrating back at them. Before I could say anything Trish seemed to read my mind and she crossed the road and ran up towards the men, camera-phone at the ready and she shouted something, got their picture and ran back towards us.

They hadn’t seen the rest of us standing just off the pavement in the shadow of an alley. Just a matter of a few yards away I stepped out and the men immediately stopped. The look they gave me showed they recognised me and the exclamation about female dogs, proved it beyond doubt.

Trish took cover behind me and the first stooge walked towards me swearing, I presume in Spanish or Catalan. “I’m gonna hurt you, bitch,” he said then lunged at me, the kick I gave to his chin stopped him in his tracks and he crumpled, falling to the ground. His mate rather than assist him ran away pursued by Danielle who wanted the number of the car. She got a photo on her camera as the car sped away.

“You’ve broken his jaw as well as rearranging his dental formula,” said Stephanie. The man was sitting on the pavement, leaning against the wall and groaning.

“I called the police, Mummy.” Trish was bouncing up and down with pride. In the distance a siren was heard and a few minutes later, a pair of police officers stepped out of a car. I explained what happened and they nodded. They recognised the man and smirked.

“Wait till they hear he was beaten by a woman,” said the one copper and the other one laughed, then they helped him up and into the car. Trish showed the other policeman a clip of me confronting them after chasing her and he laughed loudly again, “What is this, karate?”

“No kickboxing.”

I offered to copy the clip onto a memory stick and while his colleague guarded the prisoner, the other policeman walked with us to the house and while he watched I loaded the clip onto the computer and then onto a memory stick and ran it for him to show it was an accurate copy.

He left a few minutes later saying his boss will be pleased to see this pair behind bars, I’d also copied the two arguing with the woman in which both their faces were visible and also Danielle’s photo of the car number plate.

I gave my name as Mrs Catherine Cameron and hoped they didn’t do too much in the way of web searches and discovered my other names. I was beginning to appreciate Clark Kent’s dilemma more sympathetically.

An hour later I was asked to attend the local police HQ in Mahon and to bring the original memory cards or the whole phone. Neither Trish nor Danielle were that struck on surrendering their possessions. They then both announced they were coming with me.

Half an hour later after a quick wash and brush up the three of us dressed in sun dresses and wearing a bit of makeup to make us seem even more feminine, set off in the car to Mahon and eventually to the police station, which is also the police headquarters.

There we waited some ten minutes for Inspector Gomez to interview us. His English was quite good and he understood what I was saying. He also spoke to the two girls and I thought dealt with them very well. He looked at the stuff on their phones and then produced a card reader and downloaded the relevant bits to his computer. I told him that I’d already done that with the memory stick and he said he had to do it himself, but gave the phones back to the girls who were now happy to have helped convict a felon.

He explained that the two weren’t locals but from Barcelona who’d been involved in all sorts of shady business from money laundering to drugs and prostitution. When things had got too hot for them they’d disappeared and turned up on Menorca, which doesn’t normally have many of the problems of the mainland and even the other Balearics, especially Ibiza. He thanked us for our cooperation and escorted us to the door.

It had become quite hot and as we stepped from the relative shade of the building out into the intense heat and light of the street, there was a commotion and the other man was standing there holding Trish with a knife at her throat.

“Bitch, we see who’s clever now—you go back in there and tell them you make mistake or I cut this one’s throat, eh?”

I stood there waiting for him to give the slightest opportunity to rush him, but his grip on Trish was tight. I hadn’t noticed but Danielle had run back into the building and knocked on the Inspector’s door, they came back together.
“Let her go,” the police inspector said and lots more in Spanish, he also held his pistol down by his side.

“Let my friend go—they told you lies,” called the man who was receiving one hundred percent of my attention.

“No they didn’t, we’ve got you both now and you’ve just saved me the trouble of coming to get you, you asshole.” By now a small crowd was collecting and I could see the man sweating, if only he relaxed his grip for a moment we could get Trish away and neutralise the danger.

Whether he did or not, she suddenly bit his hand, stamped on his toes and pulled away from him and a split second later there was bang and he lay on the ground as the inspector’s gun smoked.

He lay coughing as blood poured from his chest and I felt compelled to do something and it wasn’t to turn away. I felt the energy almost pull me down to him and I began to staunch his wound and he screamed in pain, mind you the energy was flowing so fast through me, I almost began to wonder if he’d catch fire—there was a slight smell of burning.

I was asked to let the first aiders do their job until the paramedics arrived and I complied aware that I’d repaired the injury to his artery which would have otherwise caused him to bleed to death.

He was still conscious when the inspector called to the man, “You try to hurt her little girl and she still tries to help you, you really are an asshole. Me, personally, I’d have waited half an hour before I called the ambulance.”

It was two hours later that we got home because we had to give statements about the failed attack. Trish was amazing. “Weren’t you scared?” asked Stephanie.

“Not really, I knew if I could get away for a moment Mummy would lay him out, instead the copper shot him and she saved his life. He’d have died wouldn’t he, Mummy?”

I shrugged.

“Course he would the bullet hit his pulmonary artery. You stopped the bleed didn’t you?”

“Possibly, let’s talk about something else shall we?” I said to distract them.