The Toast of the Town (Fox & Oakby Murder Mysteries Book III)

Get It On

Danny Carter swung his large, sinewy body aside, half-turning, in a clumsy, desperate movement. For some reason, the only thought in Imogen's head was that he would surely bang his temple at the armrest of Fiona's wrought-iron garden chair when he finally succumbed to his imminent blackout.

Katie parried what must have seemed to her like a strike from the man, while in reality, Carter's arms just jerked uncontrollably.

Imogen always thought that there would be a noise. In films and telly series there was a noise - of a blade tearing fabric and... flesh. Alternatively, perhaps, her ears were ringing from shock. Carter pressed his left arm across his stomach and squeezed his right upper arm with his other hand.

And before Imogen could understand what was happening, and whether Carter was seriously injured, and what it was that any of them could and had to do - and something truly had to be done, but everyone seemed to be frozen - a object swooshed by her temple.

In the many mahogany trophy cabinets in the Oakby Manor dedicated to the achievement of John Thomas Crispin Oakby, there were two distinct types of articles: firstly, his medals received in boxing matches in Oxford - and secondly, certain cups and medals, in one of the cabinets arranged in front of a bat with an autograph and the words 'To T. Best wishes' in Mahendra Singh Dhoni's famous round letters with a funny flourish on the right stroke of his W. 

Imogen had been John Oakby's avid fan for so long that over the years she'd collected and retained in her exceptional memory a myriad of factoids about the man - including his average bowler speed of 136 kmh.

Many, many crackle glass balls were scattered in Fiona Holyoake's garden on every possible surface - in the words of the artist herself, 'for fairies to play with' - and one of them hit Katie into her left shoulder with terrifying speed. The present bag containing the Reliquary of Eleonor of Aquitaine and the Cartier choker dropped on the ground, and Katie made a few stumbling steps back. Before Imogen formed a thought, the second ball hit Katie in the solar plexus - and she made a distinct 'blagh' noise, spun on one spot, and dashed to the side gate leading out of the yard into the back alley.

"No!" Viola shouted and grabbed a handful of her husband's tee, making him dig his heels into the ground, abandoning his pursuit. 

Fiona and Will knelt above Carter, and the Mayor's arms went around Imogen, crushing her. Rhys was now calling the ambulance, and Fiona moved aside, letting Viola examine Carter.

"Under the sink in the kitchen!" Fiona cried out to the Mayor, who let Imogen go and rushed inside through the fresh door.

Imogen looked at Danny Carter's ashen face. His gaze wandered, and raspy shuddering breaths escaped his lips.

"Hey, hey, Carter, are you with me? C'mon, mate, deep breaths," Will spoke in an even purposeful tone. "C'mon, look with me. Here's Fiona, you're in my cottage. It smells like blooming apple trees. Can you smell it? Listen with me, Carter. Can you hear the music? It's your favourite T.Rex playing. Listen with me. It's Hot Love."

Imogen hadn't noticed that music was still coming from speakers that they had taken outside before they'd sat down to dinner.

Viola was deftly bandaging Carter's arm. He'd been sat up, and now Will was supporting him, hand between Carter's shoulder blades. Rhys had gone to the street to meet the ambulance. The Mayor was now talking to the police on his mobile.

"It's Get It On, actually." Carter said bleakly, without opening his eyes. "Axe?" He blinked several times and focused on Will. "I think I've been cut again..."

"It's just a surface wound," Viola said, her delicate fingers moving in confident, light touches. "You have good reflexes, Danny. There's no serious damage to your tissues."