The Quest for Answers in End of Time Street Episode 4
The story so far: after giving vent to her latest Limerick – a form of therapy the Force's resident psychologist had recommended to DS Major, recognising her as a fellow letterato, a kindred spirit – DI Crusted gave her a curious look, almost of pity, but pity tainted by scorn, but he did not resile from her, rather he stepped closer; no read on:
"Hey oop, lass," he grunted, in a Yorkshire kind of way, although he was no Northerner, indeed was no Southerner, Easterner or even Westerner, having been born in the Midlands and was inordinately proud of his Black Country roots: "let's tak a peep in that cockloft, 'appen therr might be a livin' fossil 'oled oop in therr," and he pointed to an outside stair that led up a crumbling, sooty, rain-streaked gable to a small door just under the eves and, leading the way, he placed his feet carefully on each slippery stone-flagged tread as he cautiously climbed, his torch pointing just ahead of his feet and conscious of Major being close behind; when he reached the platform off which the door led, Crusted waited for Major to join him and then gave the door a shave and a haircut, followed after a beat, by two bits, much to the Sergeant's disapproval: "there are rules," she muttered, "regarding the Official Police Knock, and that certainly doesn't conform to any of them!" by the Inspector didn't give a fig for rules, didn't give tuppence, couldn't give a monkeys, couldn't care less, in fact, decided Major, Detective Inspector Enn Crusted is an Anarchist, and wondered if she should denounce him to Special Branch, but knew that was unlikely, for despite everything, the constant friction, antipathy and mutual loathing, she knew, deep in her heart of hearts, that she loved him, and that he loved her – for a Detective Sergeant she had no understanding of other people; suddenly there was a crash, the sound of smashing glass, the door flew open – outward – knocking Crusted off his feet and pitching him over the railings, but he just managed to grab a hold of one of the uprights, although he was left dangling over a forty-foot drop as through the doorway came a hulking brute, wielding a crowbar threateningly at the Sergeant, who was teetering on the edge of the platform, trying to decide whether to disarm the monster first, then save her Inspector and – putative – lover, or save him before tackling the man mountain, and in the end she took the most pragmatic course, which was down the stairs three at a time, as fast as her little legs could carry her so that she was six yards ahead when she reached the road and twenty when she turned the corner and she didn't stop for breath until she was sure that there was no sound of his pounding feet coming after her; she found a little café still open, ordered a coffee – a latte – and a cream doughnut and when these had been placed on the table before her, took out her phone and dialled the Inspector's number, just to check that he was okay.
Is this the behaviour of a love-lorn woman, or a psychopath? find out in the next trilling episode, coming soon to a computer near you!