Frisby Waterless Murders – 18

This excerpt is from the book entitled The Frisby Waterless Murders, an English Murrder Mystery book set in the countryside, starring two policemen who have been working together for a few years and get along really well. There’s lots of dialogue and banter with some humour thrown in amongst the murders and suspects.


“Just the once, didn’t have a clue who did it – it was something in the food given to the victim.”


“Isn’t it always?” said Knowles.


“You’d know better than me, Inspector, you have more exposure to this type of crime.”  


“Actually, I wouldn’t in this instance; did the person who dunnit in your murder/mystery work in a motorway services, by any chance?”


“No, they were a disgruntled lover – a police constable – who was jealous of the victim’s new boyfriend.”


Knowles chuckled at the irony – “That’s not the case today, at least I doubt it – I suppose you never know. Could you do me a favour; could you find Carl and bring him here so I can talk to him, just to see whether he saw anything? Thanks, Barry.”


Barry levered himself up with a slight wince and smiled at Knowles – “just an old war wound playing me up,” he said and walked off with a slight limp.


Knowles made a note to ask Barry in which conflict he’d been wounded. He phoned the search team on the train to ask them to obtain the pram from the tender and to dust it for fingerprints. After ringing off Knowles wondered whether the pram had been a deliberate act by the murderer to ensure the train stopped under the bridge so allowing the smoke to get into the carriage. It seemed unlikely to Knowles, but he couldn’t completely discount it. He glanced up and saw Barry walking back with his arm on the shoulder of his son, Carl, who was smiling at something his father was saying. Carl was around 40 and wore wire-rimmed glasses. He was still wearing his train overalls. They failed to disguise the fact that he was beginning to run to seed although his face was almost wrinkle-free.


“Hello,” said Carl jovially, holding out his hand to Knowles, “my dad tells me you have some questions for me?”


“Yes, well one to start you off, did you notice anyone on the Scoresby Road bridge when the train stopped?”


“When dad retrieved the pram, there was a car stopped on the bridge, because I noticed it when we were slowing down. I didn’t see anyone hanging around so the driver might have been still inside.”


“Indeed, or perhaps the driver had gone for a walk. Any idea on the colour of the car?”


“It was a dark colour, grey maybe but not black.”


Published by Julian Worker

Julian was born in Leicester, attended school in Yorkshire, and university in Liverpool. He has been to 94 countries and territories and intends to make the 100 when travel is easier. He writes travel books, murder / mysteries and absurd fiction. His sense of humour is distilled from The Marx Brothers, Monty Python, Fawlty Towers, and Midsomer Murders. His latest book is about a Buddhist cat who tries to help his squirrel friend fly further from a children's slide.

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