Wednesday, 3 October 2012

The Mysterious Incident of the Glass Eye - Part 4

Here is Part 4 of my story.

The Mysterious Incident of the Glass Eye - Part 4


Chatting away, the two headed for the police station. As they walked through the blue doors, Bailey nodded to Sadie, who was manning reception. She winked back. He liked her. Since Shona had left him, his daily exchanges with Sadie had been the only thing keeping him sane.

Snapping out of his daydream, Bailey realised Jones had been talking to him.

“Huh?” he muttered.

“Knew you weren't listening,” Jones proclaimed, mock offence colouring his tone. “I said we need to chat with Ruddles about this one.”

“S'pose we do,” Bailey agreed, reluctantly. They turned left and knocked on Ruddles' office door.

“Come in!” a strained voice called out. Jones glanced at Bailey, who pushed the door open. Chief Superintendent Ruddles sat behind his large desk, glaring at the two DIs, who had just disturbed his peace. He raised a heavy set arm to indicate that they should take a seat.

“Bailey, Jones,” he shook their hands as they sat, his gravelly voice echoing in their ears. “I heard from uniform about the headless man. Nasty business, I'm sure. What do you know so far?”

“Well ...” Jones began, twiddling his fingers nervously. “Um...”

“We know he's not from round here,” Bailey jumped in. “We have an address for him in London but there are no other leads.”

“So strange,” Ruddles glanced up as if imagining something, his furrowed brow accentuated by the harsh strip lighting. “Blowing a man's head off with his own glass eye. Not what you'd call subtle. Our murderer must be an evil genius. Check his place out. I'll call the Met to smooth things over with them.” Jones and Bailey took this as their cue to leave. They nodded to Ruddles and walked towards the door.

“What's wrong with you, Jones?” Bailey hissed, once safely back in the corridor.

“I'm a coward, and Ruddles scares me,” he muttered, putting on a squeaky, girlish voice. Bailey chuckled.

“You're an idiot,” he replied, affectionately.

* * *

 © Annie Bell 2012

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