Read Online Under a Ghostly Moon (Jerry Moon Supernatural Thrillers Book 1) by William Moore, Beverley Moore - Free Book Online Page B
Authors: William Moore, Beverley Moore
Ads: Link
have been quicker if we'd walked," complained Moon as they stopped at their second set of traffic lights.
" Ah," replied the officer at the wheel. "But if we walked you might get away."
" Shut up, Sid!" said the other policeman. "Sorry about that. Constable Newell tends to act as if everyone we take to the station is automatically guilty of something."
" Well, most of 'em are!" commented Sid emphatically.
" You ever read Judge Dredd, Officer Newell?" asked Moon, just knowing the significance of his comment would probably go over Sid's head.
" Never 'eard of 'im," replied Sid. "Is 'e one of them big London judges then? We don't often see that sort at the Bristol Crown Court."
" Oh, I think you'd approve of him if you'd met him," replied Moon archly. Sid's mate, who did recognise the significance, stifled a laugh, while Sonia nudged Moon in the ribs and glared at him to behave himself.
They arrived at the police station and were ushered into separate interview rooms by Sid and his mate . Moon sat gazing at the buff panelled walls and hoped Sonia had the sense to leave out the part about him talking to Dominic's spirit. The police were unlikely to take kindly to ghost stories.
Moon was studying the flaking paintwork and wondering how long they would keep him waiting when Sid's mate opened the door to the interview room and entered, followed by a plain clothes officer. The latter was dressed in a shabby dark grey suit and carryied a vending machine cup full of steaming liquid. This second individual, who introduced himself as Detective Inspector Whatley, had the barrel-like build of a large athletic man who was slowly succumbing to middle-age flab. The way his rumpled white shirt strained around his middle spoke of too many nights down the pub and, the nurse in Moon noted grimly, impending heart disease, if the yellow stains on his right index and ring fingers were anything to go by.
Whatley pulled at his necktie, straining the already miniscule knot into something not much larger than a pea in his attempt to increase the ventilation via his open top button. Suits are the curse of the modern working man , thought Moon to himself. I'm glad I don't have to wear one of the sods .
" Mr Moon?" said Whatley in a West Country burr, as Sid's mate put a cassette in the large tape recorder at one side of the intervening table. Moon nodded. "Interview with Jeremy Angus Moon of Flat 5, 43 Angel Terrace, Redland, Bristol. Interviewing officer, Detective Inspector Arthur Whatley - also present Constable William Wright. Interview commences twenty-three eighteen, Saturday, twenty second May, two thousand and four."
Whatley coughed . "Thank you, Constable. Now, Mr Moon, please tell me in your own words how you came to discover the body of Mr Dominic Llewellyn in the vicinity of the Hangman's Rest public house."
Moon decided to tell as much of the truth as he could get away with . "Well, let's see, Sonia and I..."
" That would be Miss Sonia Crest, the girl who was with you when you discovered the body. What is your relationship with Miss Crest? Is she a friend – Girlfriend - Fiancée?"
Moon felt a small rush of emotion to hear Sonia described in these terms . “Girlfriend, I suppose, we've not been together long. Anyway, we'd spent the evening in the Hangman's Rest having a drink and chatting, and then we decided to head back to Sonia's place. As we were leaving the pub we went past the entrance to the alleyway and I thought I heard someone cry out. I went into the alley to see if anyone needed help and saw the body lying on the ground but when I looked at him more closely I realised he was dead. The noise I heard must have been a cat. I saw one when I first went into the alleyway."
" You were sure Mr Llewellyn was dead?" asked Whatley, sipping from his Styrofoam cup. "God! I'll never know how the charlatans who vend this stuff get away with calling it coffee!" He
" Ah," replied the officer at the wheel. "But if we walked you might get away."
" Shut up, Sid!" said the other policeman. "Sorry about that. Constable Newell tends to act as if everyone we take to the station is automatically guilty of something."
" Well, most of 'em are!" commented Sid emphatically.
" You ever read Judge Dredd, Officer Newell?" asked Moon, just knowing the significance of his comment would probably go over Sid's head.
" Never 'eard of 'im," replied Sid. "Is 'e one of them big London judges then? We don't often see that sort at the Bristol Crown Court."
" Oh, I think you'd approve of him if you'd met him," replied Moon archly. Sid's mate, who did recognise the significance, stifled a laugh, while Sonia nudged Moon in the ribs and glared at him to behave himself.
They arrived at the police station and were ushered into separate interview rooms by Sid and his mate . Moon sat gazing at the buff panelled walls and hoped Sonia had the sense to leave out the part about him talking to Dominic's spirit. The police were unlikely to take kindly to ghost stories.
Moon was studying the flaking paintwork and wondering how long they would keep him waiting when Sid's mate opened the door to the interview room and entered, followed by a plain clothes officer. The latter was dressed in a shabby dark grey suit and carryied a vending machine cup full of steaming liquid. This second individual, who introduced himself as Detective Inspector Whatley, had the barrel-like build of a large athletic man who was slowly succumbing to middle-age flab. The way his rumpled white shirt strained around his middle spoke of too many nights down the pub and, the nurse in Moon noted grimly, impending heart disease, if the yellow stains on his right index and ring fingers were anything to go by.
Whatley pulled at his necktie, straining the already miniscule knot into something not much larger than a pea in his attempt to increase the ventilation via his open top button. Suits are the curse of the modern working man , thought Moon to himself. I'm glad I don't have to wear one of the sods .
" Mr Moon?" said Whatley in a West Country burr, as Sid's mate put a cassette in the large tape recorder at one side of the intervening table. Moon nodded. "Interview with Jeremy Angus Moon of Flat 5, 43 Angel Terrace, Redland, Bristol. Interviewing officer, Detective Inspector Arthur Whatley - also present Constable William Wright. Interview commences twenty-three eighteen, Saturday, twenty second May, two thousand and four."
Whatley coughed . "Thank you, Constable. Now, Mr Moon, please tell me in your own words how you came to discover the body of Mr Dominic Llewellyn in the vicinity of the Hangman's Rest public house."
Moon decided to tell as much of the truth as he could get away with . "Well, let's see, Sonia and I..."
" That would be Miss Sonia Crest, the girl who was with you when you discovered the body. What is your relationship with Miss Crest? Is she a friend – Girlfriend - Fiancée?"
Moon felt a small rush of emotion to hear Sonia described in these terms . “Girlfriend, I suppose, we've not been together long. Anyway, we'd spent the evening in the Hangman's Rest having a drink and chatting, and then we decided to head back to Sonia's place. As we were leaving the pub we went past the entrance to the alleyway and I thought I heard someone cry out. I went into the alley to see if anyone needed help and saw the body lying on the ground but when I looked at him more closely I realised he was dead. The noise I heard must have been a cat. I saw one when I first went into the alleyway."
" You were sure Mr Llewellyn was dead?" asked Whatley, sipping from his Styrofoam cup. "God! I'll never know how the charlatans who vend this stuff get away with calling it coffee!" He
Similar Books
