DCI Cobley Crime File
Detective Chief Inspector Tom Cobley stomped his feet in the thick frost and made patterns in the air with his frozen breath. Not another one, he cursed silently. The lifeless body of Lord Edwin Blackwood had been discovered in the locked library of Widdicombe Manor, in the idyllic setting of a sleepy town.
‘What have we got?’ he growled at his faithful sergeant, Peter Gurney. ‘Not much so far, sir. We’ve combed through hidden passageways and dusty rooms and all we’ve come up with is a tarnished antique pocket watch, cryptic letters alluding to decades-old betrayals, and a secret ledger hinting at a long-disputed inheritance.’
The investigation was going nowhere. The chief constable would be on their backs soon. The DCI barked at Gurney, ‘Any more on that scandal that reaches far beyond the manor’s walls. The legacy of power and greed?’
Sgt Gurney blew on his frozen fingers and flicked through his notebook to find the right page. ‘No sir, the close-knit locals are reticent. It’s the rigid class thing. They know their place.’
DCI Cobley grimaced. He hated aristocrats and nobs. He was old school in the true sense: Milk Lane Board School.
Gurney continued, ‘Then there’s the local legend that whispers of a ghostly presence in the manor’s ancient corridors.’
Cobley swore, ‘It’s bloody freezing. Find the butler. Get me a cup of tea and a biscuit while you’re about it. Chocolate if they’ve got it. While you’re there, ask the old darling if he done it.’
Words: Richard Rooney
Illustration: A.I.
Flash Fiction 250
Flash Fiction 250 