Devil Take The Hindmost

Chapter Thirteen

We stood in silence in the farmyard, casting sharp glances at each other through narrowed eyes and waiting for someone to fire the opening verbal salvo like an agrarian take on a Leone film. A Yokel Western, if you will.

"Nice axe," Cat finally broke the stand-off with a tone so waspish it reverberated from the old stone buildings around us and set up a nest in the oak-beamed rafters.

"Thanks," Ty responded, blissfully ignoring her snide insinuation. "I've never had any complaints about it before."

"Ty, this is ..." I began, seeking to defuse the situation.

"The police officer from the station, the day we took on the Atkins case," Edge interjected, giving Cat an appraising head-to-toe scowl.

"... Our new partner on the Atkins job," I corrected him gently.

He said nothing. The furrows dropped from his face and all traces of emotion left his voice.

"Oh?" he said.

This was a very bad sign. I'd known him long enough to realize this was what Stage One anger looked like in Ty. Stage Two typically involved screaming, broken bones and blood.

"Now, look ..." I held out my palms trying to placate him and noting the trapezius muscle above his shoulder twitched spasmodically, causing the axe handle to bounce jauntily.

"I need your help to catch a serial killer," Cat said calmly, staring intently up into Ty's face. A look he returned with interest. "Don't you want to find whoever killed Darren Atkins?"

Serial killer?

That jived with what Monty the Cardboard King told us, but made Cat's appearance here to seek our help even more incongruous. If there were a serial killer on the loose, then the Force would be moving Heaven and Earth to catch them.

"You had better come in then," Ty strode past me into the farmhouse and in the direction of the kitchen.

The intoxicating smell of hot toast wafted out into the corridor and, as we filed into the flagstone floored kitchen, we discovered Widdershinz tucking into a huge pile of thick slices oozing butter and dollops of local damson jam.

He startled as we entered and wiped crumbs and preserve from the corner of his mouth with the back of his hand. He was, thankfully, dressed and wore jeans ripped by way of a hard life rather than design and a black T-shirt emblazoned with the words Watch the Skies.

"Oh, aye. Mornin' Tyrone, hen," he nodded to Ty and Cat. Cat's brow wrinkled at the indignity of being addressed in this fashion, but Widdershinz didn't notice.

"See that other woman? Your tall blonde lass?

"That was my ex-girlfriend," I interjected flatly.

"Ex?" Edge said, unsurprised.

"Aye, well, I'm sorry about that. She seemed a wee bit miffed. It might be fe the best, though," Widdershinz muttered thoughtfully, taking another gargantuan bite of toast.

I quickly decided I did not need or want relationship advice from him and neither enquired further nor asked him to show his working out. "This is Detective Constable Cat Dee," I said by way of formal introduction to both Ty and Widdershinz.

"Polis!" Widdershinz choked on his food, coughing and spluttering in alarm, tiny morsels of toast arcing across the table.

"Yes, and I'm starving," she sat down and pulled a slice from the pile, tucking in with a gusto that made her over-large gold hoop earrings jiggle like a contented spaniel's ears while she eyed Widdershinz with piercing interest.