An excerpt from the third Cleo Marjoribanks Murder Mysteries - a morning when all did not go according to plan!
Our morning followed the same pattern as the
previous day until I decided that I'd had enough of dress shops. 'I want to go
and look in that shop that sells Lladro,' I said as we came out of what seemed
to be the tenth dress shop.
'You like it?'
'Love it. I think it's time I added to my
collection.' There was a screech of
tyres. ‘What the….'
A large car had pulled up beside us
and both passenger doors flew open. A
couple of men got out. One grabbed me
and the other went for Evita.
Afterwards we agreed that men really
should learn not to attack from the rear.
My heel and full weight went down on my assailant's instep. He yelled and loosened his hold. I turned and put a knee into his family
jewels at the same time swinging my bag at his head.
Then I saw the gun in the driver's
hand - he was leaning across the passenger seat to the open door - and
continued the bag swing. Gun dropped and
he held his wrist. Good. Hope it's broken.
I turned to Evita who was screaming
fit to bust and her attacker was trying to hold her and put a hand over her
mouth.
'Heel!' I yelled.
Message understood. It was his turn to yell. Imagine a drill bit in your instep. Blimey!
We were doing some serious damage here and passersby were just watching.
'Call the cops! Policia!
Film it!' I yelled in English and
Spanish.
My handbag came into use again on
Evita's bloke's head as she struggled to get out of her shoe - it was well and
truly embedded in his foot.
Then a shot rang out.
'Everybody down!' I yelled. No idea why.
Should have yelled 'Run', then they wouldn't have been showered with
glass from the shop window. He'd shot a
mannequin - no blood spilled, thank goodness, other than from a few cuts.
Evita got free of her shoe, I just
swung out in every direction with my bag and, praise be, along come the
cops. All bells and whistles, so to
speak. Our two attackers scrambled to
try to get back in the car which was now moving. They almost made it but the driver just
wanted to escape and put his foot down.
The car shot forward, doors swinging, which hit the other two knocking
them to the ground. The car? It collided with a cop car.
It didn't take too many policemen to
bundle the three dumbos into police cars while other members of the force
shuffled the gawpers away and, as more officers arrived, finally penned them
behind barriers and started trying to interview them. I can guess quite a lot of phones were used
to take photos or film the action and it looked like some people were showing
them to their interviewers. But I bet a
lot weren't and those'll be going onto some social networking sites.
Evita and I were handed into the
back of separate police vehicles and I got out my phone to press David‘s speed
dial number.
'Excuse me, lady, are you alright?'
A plainclothes officer flashed his identity card at me.
I replied in Spanish. 'I am but my bag isn't. Incidentally, the young lady who is with me,'
I pointed at the other cop car, 'is only seventeen. And she is the one they were after.'
'Momento.'
He left and went to the other car to return almost immediately with a tearful
and limping Evita - only one shoe. Good
job she was crying as it meant she had most of her face covered with a couple
of tissues.
While that was going on I picked up
the phone. 'David, you still there?'
'Yeah. Where are you? What's 'appened?'
'Someone tried to take Evita. We fought them off. We're now in a cop car.' and I gave him
directions. Then put the phone away.
Just in time. 'Come here,' I invited
Evita who got in beside me and literally fell into my arms.
...................
As some people didn't like the 'cockney-speak' I have now edited it out!
https://www.amazon.com/dp/B010ZSYL38
What do you do on a wet summer's
afternoon? I'd guess most people watch telly. Not me on a Sunday in July. Nor
did the people in the almost full auditorium at the Alexandra Theatre in Bognor
Regis. We were right royally entertained by the Royal Marines Association
Concert Band led by Lt. Col. Chris Davis, OBE.
