“I didn’t know you were leaving us,” I mentioned as Grace began to prepare the plant.
“Yes, I’ve lived here all my life and thought it was time for a change,” said Grace as she waved her shears, inches away from my face. “Especially if what I’ve heard about the humanist chapel is true”.
“What have you heard about the humanist chapel?” I enquired.
“Well, it turns out that Raymond Wright was trying to get the humanist chapel condemned so that Tristan Turner could buy it for development. Clive Clark and Carly Clipper were helping him with that,” Grace began. Suddenly the lack of funds for the beautiful building made sense and I started to piece together recent events in a more coherent way.
“Anyway with all this talk of the land being available for development it’s caused my shop and the land to double in price, so I thought I might as well sell up and enjoy life. I mean with all these recent deaths it made me realise how short life is,” Grace stated as she spread her arms about to indicate she was selling all that she surveyed.
“Well that’s…WHOA!” I yelled as Grace waved her shears so dangerously near my face if I hadn’t moved back it would’ve likely sliced off my nose. She was a tad care-free in the way she waved her super-sharp, super-sized scissors about. No wonder she’d lost a finger.
“Would you like this gift-wrapped?” Grace asked, bringing me back to the moment.
“Er, yeah. Would you excuse me for a moment?” I politely asked as I went back to my squad car to pick up my notepad. I finally felt like I was cracking this mysterious deaths case wide open. Delighted that the world was making sense again I turned and witnessed something that would haunt my dreams.
Grace had her shears sticking out of her guts. A shadowy figure I could not make out was standing across the counter, their hands on the shears indicating that they had stabbed her and were still trying to attack her, but weirdly their hands weren’t on the handles but on the blades.
“STOP! IN THE NAME OF THE LAW!” I yelled before running across the street. I saw the culprit grasp their hand in pain as if they had cut themselves on the blade as Grace tore them out of herself and blood went everywhere, then…
BANG!
In my haste to get back to the shop I paid no attention to the car coming the opposite way. I slid on the bonnet till the vehicle came to a halt, it then deposited me on the ground, causing my head to feel like it was rotating on my shoulders.
“Oh my God, are you all right? You came out of nowhere,” the driver, an elderly lady, says to me as she crouches down in front of her tiny Nissan Micra. One wouldn’t think a car that small could hurt so much. I got up and looked over at the shop. The mysterious figure had disappeared and left Grace slumped on her chair. I don’t know how long I was out for but in the background I could hear the siren from an ambulance. It was clear that for Grace Gardener, there would be no more life to enjoy.
= = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = =
“GRACE GARDENER WAS FUCKING MURDERED!” I yelled as I re-entered the station where my fellow officers were acting as though I was spouting empty and ludicrous conspiracy theories. I felt like I was going mad as my colleagues seemed to exist in a state of permanent ignorance.
“Oh, give it a rest,” DS Booker stated as he looked to the ceiling in exasperation.
“Yeah, accidents happen all the time. Why do you think she was murdered?” Talia asked, somewhat curious.
“Because I was there! I saw someone holding the shears at the scene!” I barked at my colleagues, who continued to look at me as though I had two heads.
“Here’s something, why were you at the scene? DC Barber commented.
“I was buying a…Japanese Peace Lily for Dani’s birthday,” I commented, to even more strange looks from everyone in there.
“And you’re saying there just happened to be a murder happening at the same time?” DS Booker questioned.
“Why is that less likely than a lethal accident?!” I commented.
“Because an accident involves one person whereas a murder requires at least two people and deliberate intent, therefore an accident is always more probable in a case of harm,” replied DS Booker using impeccable logic that I couldn’t fault.
“Hang on, how do we know you didn’t do this, bearing in mind you see “murder” everywhere?” asked DC Barber, really getting my goat.
“BECAUSE THE KILLER CUT THEMSELVES ON THE SHEARS, YOU ABSOLUTE…”
“Sergeant,” said Frank, sternly.
“…Sir!” I finished, letting my mood calm. I turned and Frank nodded me into his office for what I assumed was a dressing down.
“Sir…” I began, but the Chief Inspector held up a hand and started speaking first.
“Sergeant, I get your fervour and dedication for the job, but this place is not the big city,” the Chief began. “It’s not like there’s danger round every corner, we all know each other, we all know what’s going on”.
I couldn’t help but doubt that the Chief knew all the stuff that was going on in his village. The sexual shenanigans, the lascivious nature of its occupants and the rampant dalliances of everyone who got sucked into the village’s immoral orbit, but I chose to keep those details to myself, especially because I was caught up in them.
‘But, Sir. In this case, I can prove that there’s something going on,” I remarked, the Chief noticing my confidence and determination and merely nodding in respect. I had his back and that’s all I needed to do the right thing.
= = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = =
Mel awoke, naked in a super-king size double bed that was most definitely not in her suite. For a moment she couldn’t figure out where she was or how she got there before she looked over to an open wardrobe and spotted the police uniform inside, then it all came back to her.
Mel had sought guidance from someone who reminded her of her Dad, but someone she could open up to about the sexual shenanigans that she had become embroiled in during her time in Forston. She was sure that Frank could help her out with this.
“Hello, Melissa. How are you doing?” Frank asked. Frank looked like a giant at the top of those steps leading up to his house, like some creature of myth whose wisdom could not be reproached.
“I need to talk to you,” Mel stated, as the hallway light’s golden glow bathed her in its warmth. She knew she wanted to be in there and be enveloped in that blissful heat.
“I had a feeling you’d come round. I was just in the middle of a talk to the young un’s who’ve been doing their evangelical speeches in the village square but I’m sure there’s room for one more,” Frank replied cheerily. As Mel moved inside she paid no heed as he closed and locked the door behind her. “Just head towards the kitchen and I’ll put the kettle on”.
Mel headed down the hallway to the kitchen which she could see with its door being open, grabbing a seat at the kitchen table which was almost as big as her living room. These old houses just had different standards to some of the box buildings these days.
“Cup of tea, Mel?” Frank suggested in that easy-going manner of his.
“Please,” replied Mel, removing her jacket and still feeling warm in the heat of the spacious kitchen. Mel looked around and could see a picture over on the fridge of Frank, back when his hair was brown talking to a stunningly attractive woman with luxurious, long, wavy brown hair that seemed to contain multiple colours. They were both smiling as Frank held her from behind.
“Is that Mrs Forrester?” Mel asked.
“It was. She’s no longer with us,” Frank replied, his smile fading momentarily.
“Oh, I’m SO sorry, I didn’t mean to…” Mel apologised, before Frank waved her concerns away.
“It’s been a while since she passed,” Frank remarked, the sadness still showing somewhat, but buried behind layers of time. “Don’t get me wrong, I do miss her. Her smile, her laugh, her blowjobs. Milk? Sugar?”
“Oh…erm. Milk, no sugar,” Mel replied, slightly thrown by Frank’s comment about his late wife.
“Yes, often was the time I’d come home from work stressed out of my eyeballs and slump into my chair and she’d just unbuckle my belt and melt away the stresses of the world with her mouth. Ah, happy days,” Frank recalled as he let the milk splash into Mel’s tea, causing her to lick her lips as she thought about the couple in the photo and their ravenous sexual adventures. Younger Frank as a sergeant getting back and watching as his wife knelt in front of him between his legs, unfastened him, got his cock out that was already hardening under her touch, played with it for a few seconds before licking at the underside, her eyes on his as those worries began to disappear as she unfastened her blouse, Frank’s hand on the back of her head making sure his stiffy fucked her warm, welcoming mouth, whilst she removed her top and her bra.
“So, what did you come to talk to me about?” Frank continued, as he sat down with two cups of tea, plonking himself on the chair opposite Mel.
“I needed to talk to someone about me and Michael,” Mel began, the words tumbling out of her mouth like they were sat on her tongue so long, just opening her mouth to speak caused them to flop out.
“Oh, no. What’s the issue? Nothing serious I hope,” Frank sympathised as he took a drink, prompting Mel to do the same.
“I think…I think Michael and I will be…will be getting a divorce,” Mel stated, before bursting into tears.
“Oh no! I’m…I’m SO sorry, but why? What’s occurred?” Frank enquired looking around the kitchen in a state of moral confusion.
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