Wreckage

19 burglary 602776Jamie stood in the wreckage of his ransacked house, trying to take it all in.

He didn’t even know where to start. Was there a start?

He had to call the police, he knew that, but on this side of the city it was a fairly regular occurrence so he also knew the chances of catching anyone, of them being stupid enough to leave any fingerprints, was slim but he had to for insurance purposes.

Insurance. “Shit!” Wasn’t it due around now?

He went to the kitchen, put on a pair of yellow Marigold washing up gloves then bolted up the stairs to the back bedroom.

He looked at the bookcase but it was empty, the files scattered over the floor. He searched through them, the fact they were all the same shade of blue adding to his frustration.

When he found the right one, he clasped it to his chest, went to the landing phone and dialled 999.

He then returned downstairs, filled the kettle and opened the folder. The reminder letter from Wickett & Pringle lay on the top. Jamie scanned the text then found the renewal date; 17th July. It was the 19th.

Jamie slumped in the chair and hung his head over the paperwork. He stuck out his tongue and blew a half-hearted raspberry.

He hadn’t expected a rapid response to his phone call but had only just made himself a cup of tea, surprisingly difficult to do while wearing washing up gloves, when he saw the flashing blue light outside.

He opened the front door as two officers approached it. He then spotted the ambulance.

“Are you the owner?” the taller of the two asked. Jamie read the officer’s name badge. Townshend.

Jamie nodded. “I only called the police. I didn’t ask for an ambulance.”

“Step inside, please, sir,” Townshend ordered.

Jamie took a step back.

“All the way, please,” his colleague, Rylett, added.

Jamie reached the lounge doorway, still facing the officers. “I don’t understand. What’s going on?”

“Where’s the woman?” Townshend asked, dropping the ‘sir’.

“What wo-?”

“Never mind. Rylett, you look upstairs. I’ll stay down here with Mr…”

“Dawson. Jamie Dawson. But…” He watched Rylett go upstairs then Townshend ushered Jamie into the lounge.

Townshend tilted his chin towards the mess that was surrounding them. “So, Mr Dawson. Domestic or were you looking for something?”

“No. Neither. I’ve been out, only just got in. I don’t know… what woman? Who-?”

But before he could continue, Rylett appeared. “She’s up there. We’re too late.”

“What?” Jamie asked as Townshend strapped handcuffs to his gloved hands.

***

Picture above courtesy of morguefile.com.

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