The Unkindest Cut by Gerald Hammond Read Free Book Online Page B

Jane looked as though she was going to end her story there, but she was encouraged to continue by the detective’s expectant expression and vigorous note-taking. She felt she had to make more of an effort to be a useful witness, wedding day or not.
    â€˜The robber was wearing jeans and what I took to be a T-shirt but it could have been any loose, short-sleeved cotton shirt. He was about my height, quite slim, and he had a woollen mask over his head. I think it was a woollen cap in the local football colours but eyeholes had been cut in it and hemmed with red wool. He had what looked like the help-yourself plastic gloves they have at the garage to protect your hands if you’re filling up with diesel. Oh, and it may have been somebody I know, because they used a disguised voice, a sort of rasping whisper.
    â€˜He had what looked like the sort of large kitchen knife that you could buy in the ironmonger’s shop here. It looked brand new, unused and very sharp. He used the back of the blade to sweep the drugs off my shelves into a carrier bag. Then he told me to open the steel box under the counter, which showed that he already knew about that. After a bit of argy-bargy I told him the combination rather than get my face sliced. And a fat lot of good that will do him,’ Jane said, ‘because I paid cash into the bank yesterday and he’ll have got credit card slips and one or two cheques only. In cash, probably about twenty quid if he’s lucky.’ Here Jane paused again, but this time not out of a desire to end the conversation, but to gather her thoughts so she could be as accurate as possible about what happened next.
    She continued, ‘But after I told him the combination of the lock he stooped to look at it and a gap opened between his jeans and his shirt. And I meant to shoot a sleeping draught into him, because I still had half a syringeful handy from putting the puppy to sleep, but what came to my hand was the syringe that puts in microchips. I had already loaded another microchip out of habit because a lot of dogs get restive if they see you fiddling with a syringe. It has a much fatter needle than the usual hypodermic needle and I believe it hurts like hell. Anyway, it hurt him. He gave a high-pitched yelp. I told him that nobody could take the microchip out again or he’d end up on dialysis for the rest of his life, which isn’t true but he seemed to believe it. He went out and ran off. And I can give you the number of the microchip. I suppose I should really register him with the Kennel Club,’ Jane added reflectively.
    Ian Fellowes had been making rapid notes on some typing paper borrowed from the desk. Now he looked at her severely, but apparently he decided that she could be allowed a little latitude on her wedding day. ‘Wait here quietly for a couple of minutes,’ he said as he quickly slipped out of the room and left Jane to her own thoughts.
    Jane felt that she had been engaged in frantic activity for several weeks past, so she was quite happy to relax in the comfortable desk chair and wait for things to happen. Sounds of disco music filtered in; there was laughter and an occasional cheer. It seemed that a good time was being had by all whereas ironically at her own wedding celebration, here she was, on her own in the building manager’s office, waiting to be interrogated again. The adrenaline rush wore off and the events of the day so far, as well as the past few days’ manic preparation, suddenly caught up with her and she began to fall asleep. She woke with a jump when Ian Fellowes returned, carrying a plate of
hors d’oeuvres
and two large glasses of elderflower champagne. He pushed the door to with his behind and the noise diminished again.
    â€˜I was sure you’d still be hungry and thirsty. And obviously you’ve been very brave.’ Ian was suddenly acting like the compassionate friend (as he was in his role of the husband of her