Easy As Falling Off A Bike pt 1059.

The Daily Dormouse.
(aka Bike)
Part 1059
by Angharad

Copyright © 2010 Angharad
All Rights Reserved.
  
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“When will I get my phone back, Mummy?” asked Trish.

“I don’t know, sweetheart,” I replied, hoping it wouldn’t be very long, as they can copy these things so quickly these days, and I could see no merit in keeping the original but then maybe that’s why I’m not a policewoman.

“’Snot fair, I help them and they keep my phone,” she sulked and pouted as we walked into the house.

“We saw a mugging, Gramps,” Livvie excitedly told Tom.

“An’ the rotten police kept my phone.”

“Whit fa did thae polis keep yer phone?”

“’Cos I filmed the man bash the old woman, Mummy gave it to the policeman, Gramps–it’s snot fair.”

“They’ll gi’ it back when thae money’s run oot,” he teased her.

“They’d better not, I spent last week’s pocket money topping it up.”

“Och, they’ll love ye, bonnie lassie.”

Trish didn’t approve of his teasing and flounced off, much to his surprise. “We saw the dirty rotten mugger, run away and Mummy said the old lady’s brains were all over the pavement.”

“A slight exaggeration,” I added as I went to make some tea.

“Oh the police phoned, Mummy, can you pop down t'the nick to give a statement?”

Tom looked anxiously at me. He was aware that I’d been beaten up by some rogue coppers some while ago.

“No, if they want to speak to me, they can come here. Did they leave a number?” Julie nodded and handed me the scrap of paper on which she’d written it. I dialled the number and was eventually put through to an inspector.

“Thanks for calling, Lady Cameron, when could you pop in to make a statement?”

“When hell freezes over plus a few millennia.”

“Oh, did I say something wrong?”

“No you didn’t, but I was badly beaten while under false arrest by two of your colleagues. The settlement I got pays for my children to attend private school, but there is no way I will ever set foot in your HQ again.”

“Oh, I’m sorry. I didn’t realise, I’m fairly new here. Do you mind if I send someone to your house to take one?”

“Not at all, Inspector Plummer. By the way any chance they could return my little girl’s phone, she’s nagging me about it already.”

“I’ll see what I can do to expedite things, my kids are as bad, if I threaten to confiscate their mobiles, they soon toe the line.”

I thanked him and informed Trish they would return it as soon as they could. She thanked me and went upstairs to change. I got on with sorting the meal, a cheese soufflé and salad.

We hadn’t long finished eating when the doorbell rang and Julie who answered it called me. I went along to find two police officers standing there. I invited them in and we went into the dining room.

They were direct and to the point, I made the statement and then called in the three girls. Mima saw nothing much, as she was looking out the other side of the car. Livvie was sitting in the middle seat only watched when Trish started filming it, and Trish asked where her phone was.

“Is this it?” asked the younger of the two coppers, producing her Nokia from his pocket. She looked at it, then took it and switched it on. The film was missing but she still had all her credit and her address book.

“Thank you,” she said, “What do you want to know?”

She actually described in detail what she saw, which was more than I remembered. I suppose she did have slightly less to think about than I did. After she spoke to them I signed it on her behalf and she skipped away very happy with her recovered property.

“She’s a live wire,” said the woman police officer.

“Don’t tell her you play chess. She’s warming up to take on the world champion next week.”

The WPC laughed, “She’s just learned to play has she?”

“In school, today. I think I’ve got a computer programme somewhere if she gets really bored.”

“She sounds pretty bright,” commented the younger one.

“She is extremely bright, IQ well above the norm, makes me feel inadequate at times.”

“What? I thought you were a university teacher?” he said, looking aghast.

“I am, but even I know when I’m outgunned. Fortunately she doesn’t know it yet. When she gets to her teens, she will be a real trial, I suspect.”

“Yeah, I guess she will.”

“How is the old lady who was mugged.”

“If I say this now a murder enquiry, does that answer your question?”

“Oh no,” I gasped and felt myself go cold.

“I’m afraid so, she died from a nasty head wound–brought on a stroke.”

“I am sorry.”

“You did all you could, ma’am, but you’ll appreciate we’re looking for this guy as a priority now.”

“I can imagine. Did the film help?”

“Oh definitely, but it’s not quite clear enough to identify him. His hoodie hides most of his face.”

I frowned, could I have done more for her? Was it her time to go? Oh boy–I wish I’d tried now.

“We have to go, there’ll be a big press conference tomorrow. We hope someone saw or knows him. They’ll show the film then and hope it brings in some help from the public.”

“How old was the lady?”

“Seventy nine, I think, her husband was rushed into hospital when he was told. She only went out to get an echo. He’s apparently in a bad way, heart attack, poor bugger.”

“So in a single act of violence, he could have killed two people.” I observed and felt even worse for not trying to save her.

“Yeah, these punks are a real pain, usually feeding a habit of some sort. I’d hang the bloody lot of them.”

After expressing his opinion and radical solution, the two coppers left, taking the statements with them. I felt very guilty, I had declined to use my healing because a crowd was gathering. I sat at the table and felt a tear run down my face.

Trish came in, “Wassup, Mummy?”

“That old lady died.”

“The one we saw pushed over?”

“Yes.”

“Oh, that shouldn’ta happened, I sent her blue light.”

“Sweetheart, it doesn’t always work like that.”

“What’s the point then?”

“I don’t know, I really don’t.”

“She should be gettin’ better, not deader.”

“I shouldn’t think the police made a mistake.”

“But I sent her blue light, Mummy. She should have got better.”

“Sometimes people die anyway, darling.”

“But they shouldn’t, not when I heal on them.” She was quite indignant, as if the old lady dying was an affront to her specialness.

“These things happen.”

“But they shouldn’t–did you heal on her?”

“No, I didn’t, I was too busy trying to organise help.”

“Oh well that’s why, if you had she’d have been okay.”

“Trish, you can’t possibly know that.”

“Seems that’s what happened, oh well, better luck next time.” She went off again completely devoid of any guilt or sense of loss or even failure.

I was left wondering if she or I had the more correct attitude.

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