PC Hardacre followed her out, leading John Ramsey with PC Woods bringing up the rear.
I was given the chance to provide my statement there and then. In it I listed the events in chronological order. The overheard argument, John’s angry departure and subsequent return more than an hour later, the scream and then John’s flight from the house. I held back from adding any opinion, I doubted it would be helpful, but I did ask if I had done the right thing by blocking his exit with my car and then using Buster to corner the suspect like a cat up a tree.
John was already on his way to the station, probably Maidstone, I guessed.
PC Woods, recording my statement, said, ‘It was very brave of you to stop him leaving like that. I wish we had more citizens willing to get involved.’
‘No,’ argued Chief Inspector Quinn. ‘We do not want that at all, Woods. Well-meaning civilians always cause more trouble than they prevent and create more problems than they solve. Police work is to be left to the police, Mrs Philips. I applaud your bravery, but just like last weekend, I must remind you that what you should have done was stay out of the way and swiftly placed a call to the authorities. We are equipped and trained to deal with such situations. What would you have done if he had been armed?’
‘Screamed and run away,’ I replied snippily. ‘I can run very fast.’
I got a raised eyebrow and an assessing look in return. ‘I dare say you can. Nevertheless, I do not condone your actions.’ His assessing look turned curious, worry pinching his eyes to narrow them. ‘You won’t be calling Mrs Fisher, will you, Mrs Philips?’ he asked cagily. He tried to make the question sound causal and failed miserably to fool me that it was.
However, for a second, I couldn’t work out why he was asking me about my old acquaintance, Patricia Fisher. I hadn’t seen her in years until last weekend. A heart beat later the reason for his question dawned on me like someone turning on a lightbulb – he was afraid I might involve the local sleuth who upstaged him so completely last weekend at Loxton Hall. As a professional crime-buster, it must pain him to have someone swoop in to solve a case when the answer eluded him.
Giving him my full attention, I asked, ‘You think she might take an interest in this case?’
Blustering, he replied, ‘I cannot imagine why she would.’
His behaviour made me laugh, and it also made me act very much out of character for I said, ‘I cannot imagine either. I’m sure she has something far more complex to investigate. Figuring out why John pushed Derek over the balcony railing and proving it was him would be no challenge at all for her.’ I waited for the chief inspector to cast his gaze my way once more, before adding. ‘I think I’ll just solve this one myself.’
PC Woods snorted, a laugh escaping her lips at my direct challenge. I’d basically thrown down the gauntlet or slapped the chief inspector across the face with it – pick your metaphor. The young police officer hid her face, turning so her boss couldn’t see her and walking a few paces away as her shoulders shook.
I cannot for the life of me tell you why I thought to make such a declaration, but there it was, out in the open and there was no way to hide from it now.
The Boutique
Driving to Rochester, I continued to wonder why my mouth had chosen to run away with itself.
‘What on Earth were you thinking, Felicity?’ I asked myself, speaking aloud in the confines of my convertible Mercedes SL sports car. ‘What, you’re going to swap your lucrative career as a wedding planner to be a sleuth just because Patricia Fisher made it look not only easy but very cool?’
I was mad at myself. The chief inspector chose to laugh in my face, undoubtedly because he saw my ridiculous statement for what it was. Now I had to find a way to back down without losing any more face.
From the passenger seat where he was as securely strapped in as one can a sixty-pound furry sack of playdough, Buster said, ‘I think this is the coolest thing you have ever decided to do. I can be your sidekick.’
‘I don’t need a sidekick, thank you, Buster.’
‘Sure you do. All great crime fighters have one. Just look at The Green Hornet, he had Kato. Now there was a cool sidekick.’
‘Where did you see The Green Hornet?’ I wanted to know.
Buster gave me the canine equivalent of a shrug. ‘I was chewing that thingy you keep out of my reach.’
‘The TV remote?’ I guessed.
‘Yeah, that. Well, the TV came on as it usually does if I chew it for long enough and there was this cool black and white show.’
I rolled my eyes. ‘Buster you think all shows are black and white.’
‘That’s because they are,’ he argued. ‘Anyway, that’s the kind of sidekick I want to be. Just like Kato, not some comedy punchbag there to make the hero look good.’
‘I am not a crime fighter. I will not be investigating what happened to Derek.’
Buster turned his head and eyes to look up at me. ‘Please? I need some excitement. Look at my body. Do you think this body was made for sitting around listening to weddings being planned?’ He looked like a baked potato with tusks and a tail. ‘I was built for stopping bad guys.’ He growled and swiped at the air with a paw.
I patted his head. ‘Sorry, Buster, Felicity is a wedding planner.’
I got grumpy noises from him for the next ten minutes which was how long it took to get to Rochester.
I
