Chapter 7
1114 Words
This time it wasn’t a clap of thunder rousing Charlotte from sleep, but shattering glass. A lot of it. Not even bothering to find her errant slippers, she had the dressing gown around herself in seconds and was peering through the window. The sky was clear, and the main road was quiet. But she hadn’t imagined the sound.
The silence was broken as tyres squealed and a motor revved. Charlotte sprinted to the balcony, wrinkling her nose at the stench of burnt rubber. Below, a car streaked past. A dark coloured ute, with of all things, a Christmas tree in the back, tinsel trailing behind. It turned the next corner with another screech and ornaments bounced down the road.
What on earth?
What on earth?Charlotte stared back where it came from. Huge shards of glass covered the footpath and road outside the ladies’ boutique.
There was no clanging alarm. Nobody else was around. And Charlotte didn’t even know if Kingfisher Falls had a police station.
She threw on jeans, T-shirt and runners, grabbed her keys and phone, and tore down the stairs. At the bottom, she dialled police emergency, then headed for the boutique.
Emergency services answered and put her through to the police. She answered their questions as she hurried there. They asked her to wait near the scene.
Sure, where else would I want to be in the middle of the night?
Sure, where else would I want to be in the middle of the night?After hanging up, she checked the time. Three in the morning. Not promising for getting back to sleep.
She took a lot of photographs. Glass spread across every surface in the radius of the shop was from a full pane. There was glass inside as well, but she wasn’t going to do more than zoom in with the phone camera. Charlotte searched on the internet for the shop but there was no website, after hours number, or even an email address to be found, only the landline. She dialled this in the hope it might be redirected at night, but after hearing it ring out in the shop gave up.
The minutes ticked past. Charlotte planted herself under a streetlamp a little further up the street. Running out here alone in a town she didn’t know just after a break-in, was beginning to feel like a stupid decision. She could have called the police from the balcony. Instead, she was by herself with not another soul in sight.
The sound of a car approached. What if it was the thief coming back for a second go? Her heartbeat increased as the car came through the roundabout. But it was a police car, which pulled over on the opposite side of the road.
Charlotte shoved the phone into her pocket and began to cross.
The car door swung open. “Stay where you are!” A heavyset man in tracksuit pants and singlet hauled himself out, eyes on Charlotte.
Planning on shooting me if I don’t?
Planning on shooting me if I don’t?Telling her sarcasm to stay quiet, she stopped as he strapped a police belt around his gut. If she was the perpetrator, she’d be long gone at this rate. He finally slammed the door and lumbered toward her.
“Is your accomplice inside?”
“My what?”
“Don’t smart mouth me, missy. Who else did this with you?”
Charlotte rolled her eyes. “For goodness sake. I phoned you. The person who did this drove that way,” she pointed. “in a dark coloured ute. With a Christmas tree on the back.”
Up close, the man smelt of sweat and was in his fifties. Maybe older.
“Identify yourself.” He barked.
“No. You show me identification. For all I know, you stole the police car.”
Great. One minute in a new town and you’ll be arrested.
Great. One minute in a new town and you’ll be arrested.She forced her voice to be calm. “I heard the glass break and phoned the police.”
He looked her up and down. “I’m Senior Constable Sid Browne.”
Browne? Surely not.
Browne? Surely not.“Nice to meet you. I am Charlotte Dean.”
“Did you say Christmas tree?” He crunched his way to the open window.
“There’s ornaments all the way along the road.”
Sid pulled a flashlight from the belt and stepped inside. “You sure nobody’s in here?”
“Not at all. I’ve told you what I saw. I’m hardly going to interfere with a crime scene by stepping all over it.”
“Crime scene.” He laughed. “Everyone’s an amateur sleuth.”
“No, but I’ve been around crime scenes and there are protocols to follow.”
“Like getting someone at this hour to clean this mess up.” He came back outside, scrolled through his phone, and dialled a number.
He turned what Charlotte decided were beady eyes on her again. She stared back. His shoulders were hairy. Funny the things one notices.
“This is Senior Constable Sid Browne. Someone’s broken into your shop, so I need you down here.” He listened, looking bored. “Instead of having a meltdown, hurry up and bring a broom. It’s a mess.” He hung up.
Charlotte knew her eyes widened.
“What is it with you females? Hysterical over nothing.”
“Right. I’ll be going home now.”
“I need your details. But I haven’t got my notebook.”
“Pity. Anyway, I work at the bookshop, so am easy to find.”
Sid crossed his arms, his face even sourer. “So, you’re the new girl. When’s Rose leaving then?”
“You’d need to ask her. Goodnight.” Charlotte walked away, not trusting herself to stay near the man for a second longer. She’d dealt with many police officers over the years through the course of her work, not only as an expert witness, but counselling people on both sides of the law. This was the first time she’d wanted to punch one.
And then there was Trev. The corners of her mouth involuntarily lifted. Rosie’s son, and the sole police officer in River’s End. And nothing like the one here.
Outside the bookshop, Charlotte stopped and glanced back. Sid still watched her.
Creepy, nasty man.
Creepy, nasty man.Perhaps she should stay to make sure he didn’t bully the poor woman whose shop was violated. From the alley across the road, a sound, a crunch sounded. Charlotte pulled her keys out and climbed back up the stairs.
- Writer
