could hear a much
quieter howling coming from the house that was surrounded by a
group of people; police, paramedics, and some locals. He showed his
badge to a policewoman who tried to stop him from entering and
walked into Gertrude Winterbottom's living room. The source of the
howling was a black terrier, standing by the body of an elderly
woman. She seemed to be dead. There was another woman holding a
blood-stained poker in her hand and another woman, looking at her
sternly. A man in plastic overalls was examining the dead body
while two policeman were looked on. It was a classic crime scene.
Another woman came in, carefully took the poker away from the shaky
woman and carefully put it into a strange case. She was the
fingerprinting expert.
"Who raised the alarm?" One of the policemen
asked in a quiet voice.
"I did," exclaimed the stern woman with
pride.
"What’s your name?" the policeman asked in
turn.
"Alyson Brunt, I’m Trudy’s neighbour. I live
next door, on the left."
"Did you hear or see anything unusual prior
to ringing the police?"
"That’s a silly question, don't you think?
Why would I call you if I hadn’t heard or seen anything."
"So what did you hear or see?" The policeman
didn't seem to be at all ruffled by her retort. Kroupa gave him a
brownie for that.
"First I heard a screech. I ran into this
house and found the murderer, this woman, holding the poker. Trudy
was lying on the floor. 'Don't you let the poker go', I ordered and
called you. That's how you found us."
"You didn't touch anything?"
"Of course I did. The phone… to call you and
the ambulance."
All this time Sara was taking care of the
distressed Rascal. She put her head on his and was stroking him
with her paw. The policeman turned to the other woman. "And your
name is?"
She could not make a sound. Kroupa took a
glass from a cabinet, went to the tap in the kitchen, and handed
the full glass to the shaking woman. "Thank you," was the first
sound she managed to utter. Then she looked at the policeman with
glassy eyes and didn't answer.
"What is you name?" he repeated. Still no
answer.
"Sandra Whiteford, she lives next door, on
the other side." Alyson offered. "Of course she can't talk after
what she did."
Kroupa observed the two living women and
occasionally his eyes came to rest on the lifeless body. "Did you
take photographs?"
"This is an open and shut case," the other
policeman said. "She was caught in flagrante delicto. What do you
need photographs for?"
"Take them. The position of the body, the
wounds, the usual."
"Do you want pictures of these women,
too?"
"If you don't mind," Kroupa said with a
smirk. "Who is, or will be in charge of this case?"
"I guess Senior Constable Milton from the
Katoomba police station. It's a murder. We don't have enough of
them here."
"How many people live in Medlow Bath?"
Kroupa showed interest in the place.
"Around seven hundred locals and lots of
tourists. Since the refurbishment of the Hydro and the Hotel
Management Institute, it’s been swarming with people. But I suppose
it's good for local business."
"What about Katoomba?"
"Oh, now you're talking. It's a city. Eight
thousand people and hundreds of Chinese. So far they’re only
tourists only. Everybody wants to see the Three Sisters. " The
policeman seemingly forgot that there was a dead body in the room;
he was so enthusiastic he was about his home town.
"When you get to the police station, please
send me the photographs, and when you get the fingerprints, can I
have the report? I'm staying in the Hydro Majestic. I mean the
photos you took just now, not the Three Sisters," Kroupa jokingly
added.
"I’m not stupid," retorted the policeman.
Kroupa didn't answer. Instead he went to the phone and called
Hendrych. Upon his return he turned to Sandra Whiteford. "Can you
speak now? What can you tell me?"
Miss Whitefors, still shaking, tried her
best. "I came to apologise for the harsh words I’d said before.
Trudy made such nice
quieter howling coming from the house that was surrounded by a
group of people; police, paramedics, and some locals. He showed his
badge to a policewoman who tried to stop him from entering and
walked into Gertrude Winterbottom's living room. The source of the
howling was a black terrier, standing by the body of an elderly
woman. She seemed to be dead. There was another woman holding a
blood-stained poker in her hand and another woman, looking at her
sternly. A man in plastic overalls was examining the dead body
while two policeman were looked on. It was a classic crime scene.
Another woman came in, carefully took the poker away from the shaky
woman and carefully put it into a strange case. She was the
fingerprinting expert.
"Who raised the alarm?" One of the policemen
asked in a quiet voice.
"I did," exclaimed the stern woman with
pride.
"What’s your name?" the policeman asked in
turn.
"Alyson Brunt, I’m Trudy’s neighbour. I live
next door, on the left."
"Did you hear or see anything unusual prior
to ringing the police?"
"That’s a silly question, don't you think?
Why would I call you if I hadn’t heard or seen anything."
"So what did you hear or see?" The policeman
didn't seem to be at all ruffled by her retort. Kroupa gave him a
brownie for that.
"First I heard a screech. I ran into this
house and found the murderer, this woman, holding the poker. Trudy
was lying on the floor. 'Don't you let the poker go', I ordered and
called you. That's how you found us."
"You didn't touch anything?"
"Of course I did. The phone… to call you and
the ambulance."
All this time Sara was taking care of the
distressed Rascal. She put her head on his and was stroking him
with her paw. The policeman turned to the other woman. "And your
name is?"
She could not make a sound. Kroupa took a
glass from a cabinet, went to the tap in the kitchen, and handed
the full glass to the shaking woman. "Thank you," was the first
sound she managed to utter. Then she looked at the policeman with
glassy eyes and didn't answer.
"What is you name?" he repeated. Still no
answer.
"Sandra Whiteford, she lives next door, on
the other side." Alyson offered. "Of course she can't talk after
what she did."
Kroupa observed the two living women and
occasionally his eyes came to rest on the lifeless body. "Did you
take photographs?"
"This is an open and shut case," the other
policeman said. "She was caught in flagrante delicto. What do you
need photographs for?"
"Take them. The position of the body, the
wounds, the usual."
"Do you want pictures of these women,
too?"
"If you don't mind," Kroupa said with a
smirk. "Who is, or will be in charge of this case?"
"I guess Senior Constable Milton from the
Katoomba police station. It's a murder. We don't have enough of
them here."
"How many people live in Medlow Bath?"
Kroupa showed interest in the place.
"Around seven hundred locals and lots of
tourists. Since the refurbishment of the Hydro and the Hotel
Management Institute, it’s been swarming with people. But I suppose
it's good for local business."
"What about Katoomba?"
"Oh, now you're talking. It's a city. Eight
thousand people and hundreds of Chinese. So far they’re only
tourists only. Everybody wants to see the Three Sisters. " The
policeman seemingly forgot that there was a dead body in the room;
he was so enthusiastic he was about his home town.
"When you get to the police station, please
send me the photographs, and when you get the fingerprints, can I
have the report? I'm staying in the Hydro Majestic. I mean the
photos you took just now, not the Three Sisters," Kroupa jokingly
added.
"I’m not stupid," retorted the policeman.
Kroupa didn't answer. Instead he went to the phone and called
Hendrych. Upon his return he turned to Sandra Whiteford. "Can you
speak now? What can you tell me?"
Miss Whitefors, still shaking, tried her
best. "I came to apologise for the harsh words I’d said before.
Trudy made such nice
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