Model Murder - Chapter 1

Wish I was going downhill instead of up, the youth thought, panting heavily as he cycled towards Great Camden and home.  His parents weren’t going to be happy – polite way of putting it, he grimaced, sweat pouring down his fair face.  More like bloody mad at him for being late.  But he and his mate, Dave, had to finish the game, didn’t they?  You can’t leave it at the most exciting part. And it’s only six-thirty now.  He sighed – half-an-hour late!

What’s that? he thought as the road levelled out and he could see something lying in the road ahead of him.  As he came nearer he could see what it was. ‘Fucking Hell!  A body?’

He stopped and stood straddling his bike, his feet looking far too big for the spindly jeans clad legs - as if waiting for the legs to catch up growth wise.  It was a woman in a blue dress. ‘Miss?  Miss, are you alright?’  And he wondered why he’d asked when it was obvious she wasn’t.  It didn’t look as if she was breathing and he didn’t want to touch her.  Yuck! How would he find out if she was alive?

Panic subsided and he pulled out his phone to call the three nines.  Thank goodness it was just the one number. He was sure that if he’d had to find other numbers he would have screwed it up as his fingers were shaking and wet.

‘There’s a lady laying in the road.’

‘Is she alive?’

‘Don’t know.  Can’t see ‘er breathing.’

‘Have you checked?’

‘Don’t know ‘ow.  Look, I’m late getting ‘ome.  Mum and Dad’ll be mad.’

‘How old are you?’

‘Fourteen.  Why?’

‘You sound older.  Can you wait there until someone comes?’

‘Like the cops or someone?’

‘Exactly like the cops.  Where are you?’

‘On the road what comes up towards Great Camden, it turns off a turning off the A twenty-seven.  ‘Bout ten minutes by bike from the town.’

‘What’s your name?’

‘Jezz Watson.’

‘Can you describe yourself?’

‘Why?’

‘So they’ll recognise you.’

‘But I’m the only person ‘ere!’  And he switched off the phone.  No way did he want to waste the battery.  He kept looking around – anywhere but at the body.  The trees, the hedges, back the way he’d come.  And towards Great Camden and home. Then he heard the siren.  All blues and twos as the car approached fast.  He waved like mad to stop them. Be a bloody crime if they run over her, he thought.
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