Easy As Falling Off a Bike pt 3203

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The Daily Dormouse.
(aka Bike, est. 2007)
Part 3203
by Angharad

Copyright© 2017 Angharad

  
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For Orphan Annie to have with her muesli.

So someone else knows about the blue light. I think I can trust her not to say anything—I’m sure I can, at least in terms of deliberate disclosure, but then there’s that thing that lets so many of us down, unwitting disclosure, when it sort of slips out because one’s brain wasn’t in gear. Sod it, something else to worry about.

As David had collected the girls—did I tell you they were breaking up for the year—well until September, so you watch the weather will turn rotten and they’ll be moping about indoors like lost souls wandering round the underworld: either that or they’ll be up to mischief. In Trish’s case that always worries me, so I’ve got her a temporary job running the particle accelerator at Cern—only joking, Si is taking her up to Cambridge to meet with the professor of physics, he’s also meeting up with his second cousin, who’s about seventy five and a retired mathematician, so Trish should enjoy that. I’d have gone with them but I have to look after the others. I also have this little matter of an attempt upon my life, so want to stay around home where I feel safest and as always I have loads of work to do both in the office and at home. Roll on retirement, but then the government have just raised the retirement age to sixty eight, still younger than the US, but by the time I get to it, you’ll probably need to have been dead for two years to receive it but will invalidate the claim because you’re dead.

Talking of the States, I saw a report of a group of teenagers watching and filming on their phones, a man drowning and they can’t be charged because there is no legal requirement to save someone in dire straits. I suspect it could happen here too, and I recall hearing people taking photos of someone dying after they’d jumped off a roof. Quite what this world is coming to, I hate to think but hope such morally bankrupt kids are in a minority or this world really is going down the pan faster than I thought.

We’ve already killed practically all the major predators, poisoned most of the insects and caught most of the fish in lakes and seas, after clearing most of the forests there isn’t much left for us to destroy is there, except each other. Perhaps our last act before we hand over to some other species the domination of this planet, will be to rename our species, Homo destructivus. We make the Neanderthals seem decidedly benevolent.

I soldiered on through two meetings and dozens of letters to sign before i gave up and went home. I’d let Diane go earlier as she had several things to do for this evening—they’re away for the weekend up to her mother-in-law’s at Clacton, in Essex.

When I got to the Jaguar there was an envelope under one of the windscreen wipers. As I picked it off the screen I had a sudden flashback to a much earlier period when Mary had left all those notes for me and then would have possibly killed me if I hadn’t have been all stuck up inside and a police marksman hadn’t shot her. Tom still gets some discomfort in his shoulder from the wound he got saving me.

Given the recent attempt on my life I wondered if I should have used gloves to protect myself and possibly to avoid leaving prints on it. They can’t miss my car with the plates Si got for me years ago, C4THY. Holding the envelope with a tissue—I was improvising, okay—I slipped the large blade of my penknife under the edge of the flap and slit it open. No obviously noxious substance emerged or was emitted, as far as I could see or smell. Peering inside I could see a single sheet of paper. I rsted the envelope on the bonnet of the car with my bag holding it safe, while I dug about in the boot and recovered a pair of nitrile gloves to do the job properly.

Eventually the letter was in my gloved hands and it surprised me in content.

‘Call off your destroying sprit from Judy and we’ll call a truce.’

This posed some difficulties as I didn’t know how to contact them; a personal advert or announcement in the Times, apart from being exorbitant in cost, doesn’t work quite as well these days as it did for Sherlock Holmes. Then again, I hadn’t actually done anything to Judy, she’d brought it upon herself by attacking me. Then there was the legal element, if the police found some toxic substance in the pot in her car boot, she’d be charged on those grounds alone—possession of a deadly weapon with an intent to harm or kill people, viz., me. So even if I managed to call off the goddess, I doubt I could stop the agents of the law—them with long arms, a bit like gibbons—from doing their thing. Doesn’t life get horribly complicated at times? I can’t complain, I called them, the police, that is, so will have to abide by the consequences.

I looked around, my heart was racing, but apart from normal looking university staff and the odd student, I couldn’t see anyone. I placed the note back inside the envelope and after getting into the car called DI Patchworth on my mobile phone. He asked me to deliver it to him asap, so that was what I did, took it straight round to him.

He must have told the desk sergeant to detain me because they kept me waiting while he came from his office into reception. The envelope was placed in a plastic bag and sealed and someone was sent for to take it to forensics. “Would you mind coming with me, Lady Cameron?” Like I had a choice, I followed him through the security door and up to his office.

“Please take a seat, I ordered some tea.”

“Why, I was supposed to be delivering the letter that was all?”

“I’ve had your statement typed up, perhaps you could read it and sign it if you agree with the content.”

It was a fairly accurate account of what I’d said and apart from some minor spelling mistakes which I corrected, I agreed to sign it. At this point two mugs of tea arrived and although it was stronger than I personally like, i drank it to humour him.

“Okay, Lady Cameron, what is this angel of death thing that’s supposed to be haunting your would be assassin?”

“I have no idea.”

“Haven’t you? I did some research, all sorts of phenomena happen when you’re about, don’t they?”

“It often rains as well but I have no control over the weather. You’re making associations that don’t exist, it’s very poor logic and even worse science.”

“Why do I always get the clever ones?”

“I beg pardon?” I asked feeling almost as if I were under suspicion.

“Look, you do the science and I’ll do the investigating, okay?” I nodded, it was about all I could do. “Now, just what the fuck is going on here? Who are you or what are you, and what is this all about, some bunch of fundamentalists you claim are trying to kill you and one of them appears to think you cursed her and now she’s pursued by some bloody ghost or other—and don’t tell me you don’t know, because you’re sitting there until you tell me.”

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Comments

Not going to happen

The plod just put his big feet into something way bigger than they are.

I will get some popcorn ready when goddess deals with this nosey parker.

I Think Cathy

littlerocksilver's picture

... will tell him the truth. Then she will go to the poor girl and bathe her in the blue light. After that, who knows.

Portia

The Truth Is It?

Oh, I get it. "I am the servant of the most high Goddess, and I must do her bidding", Says she.

Then he'd likely just call the boys who deal with loopers. Oh, perhaps the Goddess can zap him hard enough to let her just walk out of there, completely forgetting her presence?

The ball is now in your court. :)

Might be a long

wait D.I. Patchworth , Even if Cathy tells you the truth would you in all honesty believe her ? .... No i thought not , What you need to take on though D.I. (how did you ever get that grade ?) is that sometimes in this world Truth can be stranger than Fiction , Think on Inspector open up your eyes and mind , You never know it might be the making of you..

Kirri

Oh really?

I think it's time to repeat his choice of words, "The fuck I am". And start another lawsuit, the payout will go to another charity. And maybe he has enough time in to get a small pension to supplement his pay from Mc Donalds.

Karen

Another pigheaded police officer......

D. Eden's picture

Who apparently is about to get himself in deeper than he can afford, lol.

I'm not sure how the law works in the U.K., but on this side of the pond Cathy has the right to demand that she either be charged with a crime or released - and if they choose to charge her, she has the right to refuse to say anything without her lawyer present as well as the right to make one phone call. A call which I assume would go to her lawyer, who would then chew up and spit out one police officer who has overstepped his authority.

Of course, there is always the chance that the Goddess will step in first........

As always, you have found yet another way to twist the,plot and keep it interesting!

D

D. Eden

Dum Vivimus, Vivamus

It's straightforward.

Podracer's picture

"They are nuttier than a shelf full of fruitcakes, inspector, and take exception to my scientific views."
Perhaps DI Patchworth should invite a delegation from their office to his and get the Message.

"Reach for the sun."

The sun will come out.

'The sun will come out tomorrow'...
Phew what came over me all of a sudden. It must be old age. Anyway, I hope the DI enjoys his cup of tea, it might turn into his last supper if the Goddess is upset.Whatever twist Angharad gives us I shall enjoy the outcome.
Thanks for ten years of bike. I, for one, have enjoyed the ride.
Love to all

Anne G.

This Inspector is a complete

This Inspector is a complete and total jerk, and it looks like he does not care about his pension. Does he realize that Cathy can simply call her attorney and walk out? She is not under arrest, nor is she guilty of anything, so what right does he have in making such a statement to her? Or can British laws allow him to do such a thing? In the US, a person has to be charged with a crime for this to be allowed to happen, other than that the person can simply state "Either charge me or I am walking".

Cathy Has Lawyers

Can't she just turn loose one of her briefs (lawyers) on the Plod? How long can they hold her for questioning, especially for things that have no basis in reality as we know it? And, has the Detective Inspector forgotten (or failed to find out) that our protagonist is (un)affectionately known in Plod circles as "the pension killer?"

There's going to be smoke, fire, and ashes around the plod shop, and it's going to have nothing to do with anything supernatural, simply the aftereffects of tangling with our heroine's well-connected brief and family nobility.

Do you prefer your popcorn with, or without butter?