The Daily Dormouse. (aka Bike) Part 1134 by Angharad Copyright © 2010 Angharad All Rights Reserved.

We parked outside Reg Edwards’ house. “Why couldn’t this have waited until daylight tomorrow?”

“I’m an obsessive, I couldn’t actually wait until tomorrow, and seeing as you were seemingly interested in the case, and were trying to make something of the stone being disturbed, I thought you’d be interested too.”

“I am, but I’m a little concerned that whoever bashed old Edwards might want to bash anyone who comes here at night.”

“You have the long arm of the law to protect you, and my arms are very long.”

“Thanks, Toby, I really needed to know you walked on your knuckles.” I sniggered probably from the fact that I was more than a little frightened. He roared with laughter. “Plus, as we don’t know who the killer is other than he’s left handed and colour blind, it could even be you, couldn’t it.”

“Oh thanks a lot, Cathy, I’m investigating this, not the suspect.”

“Perhaps I’ve seen too many thrillers, but there witnesses or investigators are often led to see something, only to be confronted by the killer, who then does what he does best and they follow suit of the earlier victim.”

“You have been watching too many films.”

“But for instance, you’re left handed.”

“How do you know that?”

“You did everything with your left hand and you’re wearing a watch on your right wrist.”

“Well, Sherlock, the art of observation isn’t dead.”

“But I will be soon, is that it?”

“Don’t be ridiculous, I’m a copper not a villain.”

“They can be the same, and you are red-green colour blind.”

“How can you possibly know that?”

“You couldn’t see the difference in the stones.”

“You pointed out which was the problem one anyway, so I wouldn’t need to see it.”

“Except, I’d reversed it, so the stone was the right way round not the wrong way. You couldn’t tell.”

“Oh dear, you’re a clever woman, too clever by far.”

“So are you going to tell me what it’s all about before you kill me?”

“Why should I? Knowing isn’t going to save you–assuming I am the killer.”

“I’m curious, that’s why.”

“Curiosity killed the cat.”

“Satisfaction brought him back.”

“That’s only in nursery rhyme land.”

“Damn, you have just totally disillusioned me. Toby Old, if I thought you were the killer, I’d have left here some while ago, in fact I wouldn’t have got in the car with you.”

“How would you know, if I was or wasn’t?”

“You match the profile to some extent, but Reg Edwards was quite tall. The killer would have to be at least six foot two, you’re what, five eleven or barely six feet?”

“I might have been on tip toe or wearing high heels.”

“If you’d been wearing high heels, he’d have heard you coming and I suspect the SOCO people would have found evidence, so they might have been looking for a very tall woman.”

“Damn, next time I’ll have to wear high heels.”

“Have you worn them before?”

“Do I look like someone who ponces about in high heels?”

“Not without a lot of imagination, no you don’t.”

“I’ll take that as a negative.”

“Are we going to look at this stone at the pond.”

“Do you honestly think I’m the killer?” he looked shifty enough to be one.

“No. No I don’t.”

We got out of the car and although I was almost sure he was no danger to me, I still felt uneasy about being out in the dark, where an assailant could jump us quite easily.

We walked to the fishpond, torches cutting through the gloom like knives, the lights mainly playing on the ground beneath us because it was so uneven. Finally we got there, and Toby pulled on a pair of latex examination gloves and lifted up the stone which I indicated as being the wrong way round. There was nothing underneath it, so nothing had been buried or hidden there. It was probably the murder weapon–and a very effective one; being twelve inches long and weighing a couple of pounds, like a piece of thin kerb stone–the sort people use to line garden paths or fishpond edges.

Toby was putting it back in place and then he stood up when all hell broke loose. Toby stood up and suddenly someone ran between us and stabbed him, I watched as he seemed to fall backwards in slow motion, into the fishpond.

I shone my light at the attacker who was wearing a ski mask, who now came rushing at me waving a large bladed knife. Thankfully I reacted, rather than thought about things, and as he approached I threw my bag at his face which distracted him and I did a flying kick which caught him in the chest. He fell backwards and stumbled off over the garden fence and his escape.

My next task was to haul Toby out of the pond. He was bleeding profusely and nearly unconscious. Then, recovering my bag I called for help on my mobile phone. Once an ambulance was on its way, I tried to staunch the wound.

In the darkness, even I could see the blue light pouring from my hands into his abdomen–whether it was too little too late, I have no idea. From the amount of blood, I reckon he was caught in or near the liver–he could bleed to death if it got a blood vessel.

I kept urging Toby to stay with me, not to sleep–he could die. He struggled and even asked about the blue stuff. In the distance I could hear the ambulance. I hoped they’d find us in time.

I concentrated on stopping the bleed and shoved some tissues into the wound imagining them like a plug. The bleeding slowed to a trickle and then stopped.

Two paramedics came rushing in with a stretcher and minutes later they’d attached a drip and he was being taken out to their van. I ran behind, holding the keys of his Saab–I still had to get home. Under the streetlights I could see I was covered in blood–wonderful, another outfit ruined.

I wasn’t going to enjoy the questions the police were going to fire at me, and yet the thing that concerned me most was the survival of Toby. Now I knew he wasn’t the killer, but that was all I knew. In the dark, the man who attacked us could have been over six feet or not. I couldn’t tell–it all happened so quickly.

I followed the ambulance to the hospital where I knew I’d soon be met by police, I called home to tell Stella what had happened and for her to ask Tom to bring me a complete change of clothes and footwear to the hospital. Boy, what a mess.

I found a newspaper on the back seat of the car and sat on it to try and avoid staining the leather seats. My feet were wet, so were my trousers from hauling Toby out of the water, and the front of me was covered in blood. I was anything but the picture of propriety befitting a peer’s wife, and by the look of my reception committee, my sartorial elegance was going to be the last item on their list of questions.

It was going to be a long night, and I hoped we had enough expressed milk for the baby.