a PA cum researcher. I heaved a frustrated sigh and threw my pad and pen back in my bag.
"You are not going back to work, Verity?"
I glanced at my watch - nearly half past two already. I got up and walked towards the bar.
"No, I've got the afternoon off. I'm going to go home and spend it working on my report."
"Your report?"
"Yes. KD and I are working on a twenty year old case. It's one involving a schoolgirl called Charlotte Neal."
"Ah bon." Val leaned towards me over the counter just as the phone began to ring.
"Now I must fly. Thanks Val."
We touched cheeks and I made for the door as he turned away and picked up the phone.
I strode back down the crowded pavement towards the car park. This continued spell of warm weather certainly brought out the shoppers, I reflected, as I skirted the dawdlers and dodged the kids on skateboards. At the junction where the High Street met All Saints, I joined the queue waiting at the pedestrian lights. With all the various filter lanes this crossing nearly always involved a long wait. I stood patiently, deep in thought, shifting forward from time to time as people moved around and about me. Suddenly the whole world was spinning towards me, my arms flapped wildly like some demented flat-footed booby desperately trying to get airborne. I struggled to stay upright. Something big and red filled my vision and there was a scream followed by a gasp, though that might have been me. An arm shot out like a safety barrier in front of me, hands clutched at my sleeves and pulled me back. Back from pitching head first into the roaring traffic and under the thundering wheels of a number 29 bus.
"Are you all right, love?" asked an elderly gentleman to my left. "I thought we'd lost you there."
"Yes, yes I'm OK, thank you," I replied, my heart racing.
I looked round wildly but didn't recognise anyone I knew in the sea of faces gathered at the kerbside. The lights changed and we surged across. When we reached the far side I turned and looked back, scanning the pavements opposite. No one was running off or lurking inconspicuously in a shop doorway. Everything seemed placid and normal but I was as sure as eggs is eggs that some bastard had deliberately pushed me in the back, fully intending me to fall to my death beneath the rush of oncoming traffic.
Chapter 7
I hate housework. It's in my genes, a trait inherited from my mother who claimed that a tidy house was the sign of an empty life. She led a full existence did my mother. She was also replete with a maxim for every occasion so I would often be admonished with 'never a borrower nor a lender be' or 'a place for everything and everything in its place.' Which explained why I grew up in a house piled high with books, knick-knacks and mementos of every description. She didn't have a place for any of them.
I finished vacuuming and dusting and gave the living room a quick blast from a can of furniture spray - it works just as well as elbow grease when you are in a hurry. All right, it doesn't polish the wood but it does make the room smell nice. Then I tackled the kitchen sink.
At half past eleven, exhausted after my morning's efforts, I flopped on the settee with a mug of coffee and the intention of going through my notes from Jaynee Johnson's diary. Then the phone rang.
"Good morning, Verity, it's KD."
"Morning, boss. What can I do for you?" I asked, my heart in my mouth, my fingers crossed as I prayed fervently she was going to ask me to do some new research or anything that would save my job.
"Are you doing anything this afternoon?"
"No, I don't think so. Why?"
"Oh, good." Her voice sounded relieved and I wondered what my admission of an empty Saturday afternoon had let me in for. "I meant to ask you on Thursday if you would come with me this afternoon."
This sounded ominous.
"Come with you? To what, exactly?"
"I'm presenting the prizes at the Crofterton dog show."
"You're what?"
I failed to keep the incredulity out of my voice and KD
"You are not going back to work, Verity?"
I glanced at my watch - nearly half past two already. I got up and walked towards the bar.
"No, I've got the afternoon off. I'm going to go home and spend it working on my report."
"Your report?"
"Yes. KD and I are working on a twenty year old case. It's one involving a schoolgirl called Charlotte Neal."
"Ah bon." Val leaned towards me over the counter just as the phone began to ring.
"Now I must fly. Thanks Val."
We touched cheeks and I made for the door as he turned away and picked up the phone.
I strode back down the crowded pavement towards the car park. This continued spell of warm weather certainly brought out the shoppers, I reflected, as I skirted the dawdlers and dodged the kids on skateboards. At the junction where the High Street met All Saints, I joined the queue waiting at the pedestrian lights. With all the various filter lanes this crossing nearly always involved a long wait. I stood patiently, deep in thought, shifting forward from time to time as people moved around and about me. Suddenly the whole world was spinning towards me, my arms flapped wildly like some demented flat-footed booby desperately trying to get airborne. I struggled to stay upright. Something big and red filled my vision and there was a scream followed by a gasp, though that might have been me. An arm shot out like a safety barrier in front of me, hands clutched at my sleeves and pulled me back. Back from pitching head first into the roaring traffic and under the thundering wheels of a number 29 bus.
"Are you all right, love?" asked an elderly gentleman to my left. "I thought we'd lost you there."
"Yes, yes I'm OK, thank you," I replied, my heart racing.
I looked round wildly but didn't recognise anyone I knew in the sea of faces gathered at the kerbside. The lights changed and we surged across. When we reached the far side I turned and looked back, scanning the pavements opposite. No one was running off or lurking inconspicuously in a shop doorway. Everything seemed placid and normal but I was as sure as eggs is eggs that some bastard had deliberately pushed me in the back, fully intending me to fall to my death beneath the rush of oncoming traffic.
Chapter 7
I hate housework. It's in my genes, a trait inherited from my mother who claimed that a tidy house was the sign of an empty life. She led a full existence did my mother. She was also replete with a maxim for every occasion so I would often be admonished with 'never a borrower nor a lender be' or 'a place for everything and everything in its place.' Which explained why I grew up in a house piled high with books, knick-knacks and mementos of every description. She didn't have a place for any of them.
I finished vacuuming and dusting and gave the living room a quick blast from a can of furniture spray - it works just as well as elbow grease when you are in a hurry. All right, it doesn't polish the wood but it does make the room smell nice. Then I tackled the kitchen sink.
At half past eleven, exhausted after my morning's efforts, I flopped on the settee with a mug of coffee and the intention of going through my notes from Jaynee Johnson's diary. Then the phone rang.
"Good morning, Verity, it's KD."
"Morning, boss. What can I do for you?" I asked, my heart in my mouth, my fingers crossed as I prayed fervently she was going to ask me to do some new research or anything that would save my job.
"Are you doing anything this afternoon?"
"No, I don't think so. Why?"
"Oh, good." Her voice sounded relieved and I wondered what my admission of an empty Saturday afternoon had let me in for. "I meant to ask you on Thursday if you would come with me this afternoon."
This sounded ominous.
"Come with you? To what, exactly?"
"I'm presenting the prizes at the Crofterton dog show."
"You're what?"
I failed to keep the incredulity out of my voice and KD
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