'Ghosts in the Guest House'

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.
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As some people didn't like the 'cockney-speak' I have now edited it out! 

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