“Can you come here a second?” she asked sipping her morning coffee and looking down the back yard.
“Hmm, what is it?” I asked looking out the big window and out over the farms beyond our back fence.
“Can you see a pool of blood under the clothes line?” she asked as if asking me about the weather.
“Goodness yes,” I answered, “what’s happened down there?’
I put down my porridge and went to investigate. It certainly looked like a pool of blood, and there were footsteps, size nine and a half gym shoes walking towards the back fence. The grass though was very thick with dew, and so the footprints quickly vanished.
I rang 000 and very soon three police officers arrived.
One was a young man I assumed to be just out of the academy, the next was a middle-aged woman who looked like she had just gotten out of bed and the third was an older man, craggy-faced and with an expression of this better not keep me from my dinner.
Oh my goodness, I thought, the good, the bad and the ugly, and in that order.
The young police officer had a role of police tap and was quickly tapping off the crime scene, the lady officer looked about and studied the blood, the older officer made an announcement: “Everyone is to stay put, we have a potential crime here, and so we want all of you to remember precisely where you all were last night and this morning. A crime may have been committed here, and everyone is a suspect.”
By suspect, I assumed he meant my partner and me, as there was no one else to point his finger at.
So we stood back and watched the police go about their business or at least make it look as though they knew what they were doing.
Pretty soon a man turned up carrying a brief case and wearing a coat that said ‘forensic’.
At last, I thought someone who might be able to provide some information. Neither of us had heard anything during the night, so we were as much at a loss as were the police.
The craggy police officer approached the forensic guy and asked if he knew anything.
“Its blood,” said the forensic guy scooping some into a small vial. “I’ll go back to the lab and see what sort it might be.”
“Human?” asked craggy policeman.
“Could be, best check to make sure,” answered forensic man packing up his brief case and heading off to his lab.
By now our coffees were cold, and my partner looked disappointedly at me, and I went to move off to make fresh cups when craggy policeman pulled me up.
“And where do you think you are going?” he asked
“Make up some fresh coffee, would you like one?” I asked.
“Thanks, white two sugars, best get one for these two as well,” he said pointing to his colleagues. The young policeman was looking decidedly lost in that he didn’t seem to know what he was supposed to be doing and the lady police person was looking more and more irritated by the minute.
“There’s a lot of waiting at crime scenes,” the craggy officer stated, “waiting for God knows what, when or how. If you have a biscuit that would be nice too,” he added as I moved off.
In the meantime the blood was congealing, as it should, the three police persons stood around and time moved on.
Somewhere there was a body with little to no blood and a potential killer believing he’d gotten away with murder.
Next, to me the kettle boiled.