Deadlier than Fiction by Helena Marchmont

Author:Helena Marchmont [Marchmont, Helena]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Bastei Entertainment
Published: 2020-09-09T08:47:34+00:00

9. Betty’s Cottage: The Aftermath

His head hurt. His forehead hurt. His cheek hurt. With an effort, he opened his eyes to see a dark blur that slowly revealed itself to be gravel, gravel that was pressing into his cheek. He was lying face down beside Betty’s cottage. Someone had knocked him down. An intruder. There had been an intruder in Betty’s cottage.

Alfie’s head hurt so much that he didn’t want to move. But he had to warn someone about the intruder. He had to warn the police. Emma. He should ring Emma.

Slowly, he hauled himself the short distance to the cottage and managed to sit up, his back against the wall. What if his phone had smashed? He pulled it out of his pocket, and squinted at it. At first, he thought something was wrong, but it was just rain splattering the screen. He could feel the rain trickling down his face. He found Emma’s number and called.

“Alfie? What’s the matter?”

Her voice was sharp. She didn’t like being rung at work. But this was work. He was reporting a crime.

“I– It’s-” His head was throbbing.

“Alfie?”

“A break-in. At Betty’s cottage. I’m there. There’s been a break-in. The door’s damaged-”

“I’m on my way. Stay where you are.”

If he had been able to, he might have laughed. He couldn’t even get to his feet. It was still raining. His hair was soaking now, dripping so much that his shirt collar was getting damp. All he wanted to do was rest, but he had to tell Emma what had happened. At least she was on her way.

He must have dozed off, because the next thing he knew, someone was shaking him by the shoulder.

“Alfie! Alfie! Why didn’t you tell me you were hurt?”

He peered up at Emma. “I’m not hurt. Well… my head hurts a bit.”

“Alfie, you’re covered in blood. I’m calling an ambulance.”

He didn’t want an ambulance. He had things to do, although he couldn’t quite remember what they were.

“No,” he said urgently. “No ambulance. I’m fine.”

“Alfie, you are patently not fine.” She was kneeling down beside him, wiping the side of his face with a handful of tissues. When she took her hand away, he saw the tissues were stained bright red. He felt queasy.

“I’ll get you to the surgery,” she said.

He wasn’t sure how she managed it, because he was certain he couldn’t have stood up on his own, but he was sitting in the police car, holding a fresh wad of tissues to his head.

Apparently, there was blood on his shirt and his jacket, according to Emma. The jacket would survive. It was the sturdy waxed thing he had bought from a country-attire outfitter when he first came to Bunburry, and Betty had said – what had she said? – yes, she had said: “You look like a model in a catalogue. Cute but impractical.”

Blood on the shirt, that was a different matter. He loved that shirt. It had been made for him in Jermyn Street, turquoise linen, with a Prince of Wales collar and three-button cuffs.

Download

Copyright Disclaimer:
This site does not store any files on its server. We only index and link to content provided by other sites. Please contact the content providers to delete copyright contents if any and email us, we'll remove relevant links or contents immediately.