As if sensing he might be better off saying nothing, he said, ‘I’m not saying another thing without a lawyer present.’
Neither officer looked surprised.
Woods’ radio squawked as a message came over it – more officers had arrived outside. It was a good thing too, because in the next second, the patio doors swung outward to reveal Joanne and Tamara Bleakwith coming in.
Joanne went nuts!
‘How dare you come back into this house!’ she shrieked at John.
He recoiled, jerking away from her even though he remained sitting. She was coming across the kitchen, advancing with menacing steps. It was fortunate that PC Hardacre was there to get in her way, for I fear she may have physically attacked him otherwise.
PC Woods went to answer the door, letting her colleagues in. A moment later, I heard a voice I knew asking questions. I groaned inwardly and closed my eyes.
‘Ah, Mrs Philips,’ said the voice as it entered the kitchen, and I opened my eyes while wishing the sight before me would turn out to be a bad dream.
‘Hello, Chief Inspector,’ I replied. I first met Chief Inspector Quinn last weekend at Loxton Hall. Standing a mite over six feet tall, he was clean-shaven and pasty white. His neatly trimmed hair was as perfectly turned out as his uniform and he looked the sort who ran every morning before work to ensure he was fit and healthy.
He might be a good police officer, but he wasn’t a particularly nice person and didn’t care one bit if that was what people thought. He acted as if he knew best about everything and believed his authority should be unquestioned. Patricia Fisher made him look like a fool and I had gotten to see it.
He didn’t like that one bit.
Joanne was still seething, her eyes boring holes into her husband’s business partner’s head. However, the paramedics, with her husband loaded on their wheeled gurney, needed to come through the kitchen and that meant she had to move.
‘Mr Bleakwith’s condition?’ asked the chief inspector of the two paramedics.
It was the female of the pair who answered. ‘Stable, but unconscious. Mr Bleakwith needs urgent medical treatment but there are no life-threatening injuries that we can find. The backboard is just a precaution until the hospital can complete further scans of his spine. We really need to get moving.’
Wasting no further energy on words, the paramedics set off for the front door, Tamara going with them.
‘Are you coming, mum?’ she called from the kitchen door.
Joanne still had her eyes locked on John Ramsey. ‘I need to get my keys and purse,’ she replied without looking Tamara’s way. As if noticing the police officers for the first time she said, ‘he pushed my husband. I saw him do it. I will testify to it.’
John looked mortified with shock. ‘But you didn’t see me, Joanne. You were in the living room.’
Chief Inspector Quinn narrowed his eyes. ‘You made sure of that, did you?’
‘What? No! I …’ John Ramsey realised how close to a confession his previous sentence came.
With a nod toward PC Hardacre, the chief inspector said, ‘John Ramsey I am placing you under arrest for the crime of attempted murder …’ he rattled off the standard words of arrest; words I felt sure he must have spoken hundreds of times.
John looked utterly gobsmacked. He was invited to stand, the cuffs going on no sooner than he was on his feet. A nod from the chief inspector and PC Hardacre led John from the room in silence.
I couldn’t say why, but seeing John being led away made me smile. ‘Good riddance,’ I muttered loud enough for him to hear. When he turned his head, I added, ‘This is what you get for being a bully all your life.’
‘Stop,’ commanded Quinn. I couldn’t tell who the instruction was aimed at. Was it me? Or his officers? Or everyone? Whoever it was, the chief inspector’s next words were aimed at me. ‘You know the accused?’
I curled my lip slightly to show how unhappy I was about it. ‘We went to school together.’
‘You are not friends?’ Chief Inspector Quinn sounded surprised.
I shook my head. ‘No, we are not. Even if we had been, I would happily testify that he just attempted to kill Derek. I heard the scream and saw him running from the house.’
‘I didn’t push him,’ John insisted again. He was sticking to his story.
I didn’t bother to argue.
Chief Inspector Quinn looked at Hardacre. ‘Has Mrs Philips given a statement yet?’
‘Not as such, sir,’ admitted PC Hardacre. ‘We were not expecting anyone else to get here this quickly.’
‘Efficient as always, Hardacre,’ replied the chief inspector snidely.
I thought the first two officers to arrive handled the situation remarkably well.
Joanne reappeared with her coat and handbag; she and Tamara were going to the hospital with Derek. However, the chief inspector wasn’t leaving. ‘I’m afraid Mrs Bleakwith that since you have accused a man of attempted murder, it will be necessary for my officers to inspect the house and the location where the alleged assault took place. I’m afraid I must insist that either you or your daughter remain here with us.’
Joanne flapped her lips a couple of times, looking like a fish as she tried to form a response. In the end she managed to say, ‘But I have to go with Derek.’
Tamara came to her rescue. ‘It’s okay, mum. I’ll stay.’
They exchanged a brief hug and a few words before Joanne went for the front door and Tamara took off her coat.
Chief Inspector Quinn called after her, ‘I will need a statement from you still, Mrs Bleakwith. One of my officers will accompany you to the hospital.’
Joanne hurried away, a nod from the chief inspector sending a constable after
