Tuesday, 7 October 2014

How Trudi avoided a nasty crash - from 'Death of a Copycat'

Following two murders it was hard to realise that someone also wanted to kill Trudi - and possibly her friend Lucia.  Read on.....

Following the writers’ circle meeting, as they drove home in Trudi’s car, she and Lucia chatted over the meeting.  Suddenly a car pulled out from a turning on the left, heading for Trudi’s door.   Fortunately that lady’s reflexes were quick.  She spun the wheel to the right and headed onto a driveway.  Unfortunately there was a car parked on it.  She slammed on the brakes, bringing them to an abrupt halt to the tinkling of broken glass.
“Shit!”  Trudi exclaimed then rested her head on her arms on the steering wheel.
Lucia had covered her face with shaking hands.  Both were breathing heavily.
Tap, tap, tap on the window of the driver’s door.  “Are you okay?” a man’s voice asked.
Trudi looked up and gave a rueful grin to the well-built man in his seventies.  She opened the window.  “Sorry about your rear light.”
“No problem.  We saw what happened and are amazed you got out of the way.  Who hates you?” he asked a look of sympathy in his blue eyes. 
His wife, also about seventy years old, joined him and invited them indoors, but Trudi shook her head as she got out of the car.  Her knees were shaking so much she was surprised she could stand up.  She asked, “Did you see who was driving?”
“Sorry, I was watching your fine piece of driving,” the man apologised shaking his head of fine white hair.
“It had tinted windows,” the wife told her.  “By the way, we’re Fred and Poppy Walters.”
Trudi introduced herself and gave them Lucia’s name.  That lady was, Trudi noticed, already on the phone, presumably to Jeff.  “I hate to get you involved in this, but two people we know have been murdered and this may be part and parcel if it.  I’m afraid I’m going to have to call the detective in charge.”
“Oh, my!” breathed the little five-foot-nothing lady with the wiry grey hair and pale sherry coloured eyes.
“Do what you have to do,” Fred reassured Trudi and gave her their address, all of which Trudi relayed to Ricardo.
Although the Walters’ again invited the ladies inside for a drink or at least a cup of tea, they opted to stay outside.  In the event they didn’t have to wait long as Ricardo arrived in short order.
“I was already in the car going to the supermarket when you called.  There are some more coming along to do a house-to-house,” he explained, following a brief greeting.  “Trudi, Lucia, are you okay?”  He looked inside the car and saw that the airbags had not deployed.  “Not too big a hit?”
Fred responded with a grin, “Neatest bit of parking I’ve ever seen.”
The detective frowned, “I thought she hit your car?”
The older man waved his hand.  “A broken tail light.  Pretty good considering she was doing about thirty.”
They stood and examined the cars, then Ricardo said to Trudi, “You didn’t get touched by the other car.  Pity as we’d then have paint to match up.”
“Thanks very much,” she retorted as Lucia gasped.  “The other car was white.  This car is white,” she pointed out through gritted teeth.
“I’m sorry, I’m sorry.  Just thinking technically.”
At this point two marked cars arrived.  One contained Detectives Jeffers and Westland (also known as Tweedledee and Tweedledum) and the other, Jorgenson.  Gomez indicated they should wait on the sidewalk then turned his attention back to Mr. and Mrs. Walters.  “Back to the car which tried to side-swipe Trudi.  You said it was white.  Did you see the tag?”  A pair of shaken heads, “Okay.  Any idea of the make?”
“Could have been a Taurus,” Fred said, “that sort of shape and size.”
The detective made a note.  “Or maybe a Mercury Sable,” he muttered.  “Or similar.  Right,” he became businesslike again, “after I’ve detailed these guys on a house-to-house I’ll follow you, Trudi.”
“There’s no need for an escort,” she assured him.
He raised an eyebrow.  “How about for my peace of mind?”
She relented and, while he went to talk to the uniforms, she turned to Mr. Walters.  “When you get that light seen to send me the bill.”
“No, that’s okay.  It’s not a big job.”
Lucia weighed in.  “That’s not the point, Fred, it’s a matter of principle.  What happened wasn’t your fault.”
“Wasn’t Trudi’s fault either.”  He shook his head and grinned ruefully.  “Why didn’t I have a video camera rolling?  It was just like a movie.”
“But you should not be out of pocket,” Trudi pointed out.  “I have to get my front light repaired.  Depends how much both repairs are.  If more than we expect then the insurance will cover it.  If not, then I’ll pay.”

Fred looked from his seven-year-old Toyota to Trudi’s new Lincoln Town Car, realised she could probably afford it and, encouraged by a nudge from his spouse, agreed.

Death of a Copycat is available on Amazon Kindle and on Smashwords.com for all other formats except.....
Kobo.  There search for 'Writing can be Murder' - I wasn't able to work out how to change the cover on that format!

Of course, all of my books are available for e-readers and computer.

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