Death of a Pantomime Cow

Book 0: Briefcases

by Andrea Frazer

Genres: Humor & Satire; Short Stories; Cozy Mystery; Police Procedurals

Synopsis

Carsfold has recently opened its new theatre and the Town?s Women?s Guild is to present its first live performances ? the pantomime `Jack and the Beanstalk? ? over Christmas. DI Harry Falconer has managed to duck two days spent over the festive season in the Carmichael household by pleading other commitments, but treating the whole family, himself included, to tickets to the first performance, on Boxing Day. But he seems to be able to do nothing straight forward, and when tragedy strikes in the very first Act, he is catapulted back into his professional role with a vengeance: and on a Bank Holiday, too.

Release date: October 31, 2013

Publisher: Accent Press

Print pages: 41

Sample

PROLOGUE

Christmas Eve – one thirty in the morning

All the participants in the forthcoming tale were asleep, all excitement and anticipation that had kept this state at bay, now calmed by regular breathing and bright, hopeful dreams of the morrow.

But, no, one figure is still not abed. There is one still up, and in the Carsfold Community Theatre. Incongruously dressed in the costume of a pantomime cow, she has deserted her partner so late, and made her way to this location, for a little extra rehearsal for one of her parts, to be premiered on Boxing Day. Kate Kerridge did many things fanatically, and her partner, realising this, had long since made his way to bed, and thus to sleep, unwilling to wait up for her return, which he expected to be very late indeed.

Outside, the night was crisp, with frost twinkling in the moonlight, turning each leaf and blade of glass into a precious jewel which could never be replicated by human hands. It was a peaceful night, cold but beautiful. In fact, all was calm, all was bright.

The sound of sleigh bells was not yet discernible, and there were no reindeer in sight up above, but it would not be long before there was plenty of creeping about, accompanied by the furtive stuffing of stockings and pillow cases, to keep the legend alive for yet another year.

I

25th December

33 Letsby Avenue, Market Darley

Detective Inspector Harry Falconer placed his knife and fork down side-by-side, perfectly parallel on his plate, and belched very discreetly, a hand covering his mouth for the sake of manners, even though his only company was his five cats. Not only had he managed not to be on duty over the two most important days of Christmas, but he had managed to arrange things so that he did not have to drag himself to someone else’s house, someone else’s celebrations, and fit in with whatever family traditions they wanted to re-enact, eating up his precious free time with pastimes that meant nothing to him.

 Following a kind-hearted and well-meant invitation to join he and his kin for the two days of celebrations, he had managed to bamboozle his soft-hearted DS, Carmichael, by explaining how his mother had invited him to spend a family Christmas with her and his father, as it had been some time since he had managed to be with them at this time of year. And he had managed to fool his mother by explaining to her how much his DS wanted his boss to spend a family yuletide with his young family, with all the trappings of stockings and under-tree presents, crackers and paper hats that this involved.

In fact, both invitations had been issued, their only real function being as a tool to turn down the other, and he had eventually achieved what he had long aimed for – a quiet Christmas Day on his own.

In celebration of this unexpected victory, he raised his wine glass and drank a toast to the deliciousness of solitude when properly planned and executed. He remembered the chaos that had been Christmas the previous year, which was spent actually staying in the Carmichael household as a hostage of the fearsome weather, rather than making the two planned, far briefer, daily visits.

Earlier, Falconer had stuffed two guinea fowl with apricots and wild rice, and roasted them with mouth-sized pieces of parsnip, carrot, and potato. These, with a few mange tout and his favourite homemade bread sauce, had made a feast fit for a king, and a rather good lunch for the cats as well, who were developing quite sophisticated tastes, with his particular left-overs for titbits. . .