Midsomer Maiden |1| The Trials of Midsomer

18. Dark Autumn

Gavin opened his front door to reveal Tom waiting with his hands in his pockets. He checked his watch, frowning. "Bit early, aren't you, sir?"

"I'm afraid so, Troy," replied Tom. "There's been a murder over in Goodman's Land. Now, come on, we'll pick Freddie up on the way."

"Ah. Well, we needn't bother, sir." Gavin winced. "You'd better come in."

As Tom frowned in confusion while entering, a door on the other side of the flat opened, and Freddie poked her head out. She smiled when she saw him, completely unfazed by the notion of the pair of them seeing her in no more than a towel. "Oh, hello, Tom!" she exclaimed. "I thought I heard your dulcet tones."

"Get a move on, will you?" Gavin complained. "We've got a murder."

"Of course we have. All right—ten minutes." And with that, she disappeared back into the bathroom.

Tom hesitated. "Troy... do I want to know?"

"Sir, I don't want to know. Apparently all the hot water on her street's gone up the spout—something to do with those roadworks, I think."

"Ah, I see."

"Yeah," Gavin made a face. "So did I. Reckon I'm gonna be scarred for life."

***

Over in Goodman's Land, as the three detectives pulled up near the crime scene, Ben Jones was setting up a diversion with the help of the local uniformed officer, PC Jay Nash. She stared at them as they headed over to the body. "Is that...?"

"DCI Barnaby?" Ben guessed. "Yeah. You'll like him. Good bloke."

"No, no, her." Jay smiled. "It's Skip Bullard, isn't it?"

He blinked. "Oh. Yeah. Sorry, I didn't realise you'd know her."

"Never met her before in my life," Jay admitted. "Not properly, anyway. But a couple of years ago, I was called in as back up on a murder case in Midsomer Deverell. She and her sergeant had confronted the murderer. The sergeant ended up in the river and Bullard saved his life—I've never seen anything like it. We thought he was a goner, but she wouldn't let him die, wouldn't stop fighting for him. Must be nice, to have someone who'll have your back like that."

Ben smiled. "Yeah, that sounds like Fred. I'll introduce you later."

***

Meanwhile, Tom was raising his eyebrows at his goddaughter, whose lips were already turning blue. "Are you cold, Freddie, by any chance?"

"I am slowly freezing to death, Tom, and being so, so brave about it," she replied dramatically.

Beside her, Gavin rolled her eyes. "Yeah, you've been 'being brave about it' all morning. Loudly." Freddie reached up and touched the side of his neck with her icy fingers and he yelped, recoiling. "All right, all right, get off!"

"It's not my fault," she insisted. "I've always been cold. Mum thinks it's to do with the dyspraxia."

"When Winifred was little," began Tom, "even littler than she is now—"

"Oi!"

"—just eleven months old, she got hypothermia. Scared us all half to death, but that's what first made Kathy twig that something was the matter."

"You got hypothermia in June?"

She shrugged. "Call it a talent. Anyway, the problem is that the road works on the corner have managed to burst the water pipes and now nobody on my street has water, myself and Ben included. No water, no cups of tea, no central heating, no hot showers. I'm losing my mind, Tom."