The Daily Dormouse. (aka Bike, est. 2007) Part 2963 by Angharad Copyright© 2016 Angharad

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This is a work of fiction any mention of real people, places or institutions is purely coincidental and does not imply that they are as suggested in the story.
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I was glad to get back to Pompey, the thought of what we’d seen in the river was making me feel quite down. We had no information about the body at all, the police just took over and closed down everything, erecting screens around everything. Doubtless there would be police divers searching the bottom of the canal later if there’s any thought of foul play. ( I was going to say fowl play – but I chickened. Okay a pretty poultry joke.)

Of course we don’t know there has been any, we don’t even know if it’s a male or female body, just that it’s dead and not terribly fresh. They can tell how long a body has been in water from the amount of conversion from normal body fat to adipocere—the fat becomes denser and harder.

Was it an accident, someone a bit over the eight falls in and drowns? Or a suicide—it happens, or a murder? Bodies in canals are likely to be discovered eventually as canals are relatively still compared to rivers which usually have a distinct flow to most of them; generally taking the water down to the sea. If you’ve just murdered someone, then dumping the body in a river may be a good way of either disposing of it or destroying forensic evidence which might convict you. Burning is another way to slow down identification and evidence.

A bit later I checked on the Bristol Evening Post website and all it said was that a body had been discovered in the canal by a woman walking with her daughters. See, we’re famous, not. I didn’t say anything to the girls as I didn’t want to have to deal with nightmares, though I’m sure they’ll be speculating about it. I’d not picked up anything from being near the corpse, so it had probably been dead for some time.

“You still upset about the canal?” asked Simon once we got to bed.

“It’s sad but I don’t feel any involvement with it other than being the person to discover it was there and reported it to the police.”

“But if it was some sort of murder dumped in the water and weighted down with stones, it’s curious that it suddenly floats on the surface as you’re walking along the tow path.”

“Oh yeah, it obviously knew I’d be along there at that moment and released itself—duh.” It made him snort and then cough, so it was probably response enough.

“Seriously, you don’t know if that happened or not.”

“No and neither do you, so shut up and cwtch with me.” I felt his arm around me and feeling safe, I relaxed and was asleep minutes later.

I was walking along the canal when I spotted the rags drifting towards me. I was holding a long pole and managed to snag the clothes and draw them towards the bank. Pulling it towards me, I somehow flipped the body over and seeing the face for the first time, realised it was female.

The long hair floated away from the face and as I stared at the swollen pale features the eyes opened and stared back at me. I froze in horror unable to move as the arm raised up into the air towards me and the hand clutched at me...

“Wake up, Cathy, you’re having a bad dream,” I heard Simon’s voice from a long way away as i struggled against the hands that were trying to grab me. “Ouch, stop struggling, woman, you’re safe—that’s me you’re hitting.”

I woke up hot and sweaty where I’d been struggling against Simon. He was wrapped round me like an anaconda trying to stop me hitting him. When I’d come too, we both lay there panting.

“Goodness, you’re strong when you get going, girl.”

“Well, I was frightened. I’ll bet I’ll be all bruised now.”

“Well I could hardly leave you screaming there, could I?”

“Sorry.”

“That’s okay. If it’s all right with you, I’m going back to sleep.”

“Of course, sorry I woke you, darling.”

“Okay,” he rolled over and I decided to slip out of bed and have a wee. I was soaking wet, so I had a little wash and changed into a clean nightdress, then I snuck downstairs and put the kettle on. It was two in the morning on a Sunday. Debbie was coming over for dinner and we were going to do some sewing in the afternoon. I felt it was the least I could do for cancelling the Friday session.

Apparently, John goes to his parents every Sunday for lunch. He invited her to go with him but she preferred David’s cooking—see us academics aren’t as stupid as you think.

I made myself a cup of milky coffee in the microwave and sat blowing on it—well, it was too hot to hold let alone drink. Next time I’ll only do half a cup and add some cold milk. That reminded me, we needed some more tomorrow. I’ll nip out first thing and get some from the corner shop. It’s much dearer than the supermarkets but for them I’d have to wait until after ten because of Sunday trading and its archaic trading laws. Apparently, in the dim and distant past you could buy a girly magazine full of tits and bums but not a copy of the Bible. It was even more ludicrous in those days and it’s not as if anyone ever goes to church. So the keep Sunday special mob are out of touch with the rest of the country, especially when you compare it to the US which is a much more religious country yet the shops are all open. Then again, I suppose Mammon is the patron saint of capitalism.

I finished my coffee and went back to bed. Simon was totally zonked and didn’t even stir when I put my cold feet against his leg. I soon warmed up and turning over with my back to him caused him to roll over into the back of me and put his arm around my waist. It felt snug and safe and I was soon asleep again.

Fortunately, I slept through, so perhaps the milky drink did the trick. I was up fairly early and went down the paper shop and bought the Observer and a couple of two litre bottles of semi skimmed. I’d ask Simon to go and get some more from Tesco or Asda later, but we had enough for breakfast and that was the priority. We also had some frozen ones in the spare freezer but they take all day to thaw.

As I walked into the drive, accompanied by the hound of the Baskervilles, well okay, Kiki, I saw a police car parked in the drive. My heart rate raced as I walked more quickly to see what they wanted.