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Criminally Dotty
by BP2009
There was a light at the third storey window. Something was wrong. Dot was sure. There were never any lights in Lauriston Castle after six in the evening. Ernie was away, which meant she'd have to go and check things. No sense calling the Constable out for something minor. Sighing deeply, she resigned herself to missing tonight's murder mystery on the telly. She shuffled to the door and pulled on her anorak. She swapped her slippers for her stout walking shoes,Nike Shox R2, collected the torch and her walking stick and opened the door.
The icy wind tore through her as she slogged her way up the dark path to the Castle. The light on the third floor was moving now, passing from window to window in the long visitors' display gallery. Dot quickened her pace as she reached the crest of the incline and made for the staff entrance at the side of the stone building. One glance was enough to take in the broken lock. She eased the door open and stepped inside. She switched the torch on long enough to find the heavy bolts on the inside of the door and slide them shut. Then she padlocked the top one and dropped the key into the umbrella stand near the door. Let's see you get out past that, whoever you are! I hope you trip in the dark, I do.
Glass broke somewhere above. Dot headed up the stairs behind the kitchen,ray ban sunglasses, glad of the solid weight of her wooden walking stick. She stepped over the seventh and twenty-third steps, knowing how loudly they could squeak. As she neared the third floor gallery,Montblanc Starwalker, she could hear muttered words.
"Bloody hell! It's not enough I've got to come to this freezing damn place, now I've cut myself on this frickin' glass. What the Hell's wrong with all the people in this God-forsaken dump, anyway? A locked glass case in a crappy Castle that's as boring as all Hell. Who cares about all this shit!"
The voice was coming from a crouching figure, dressed all in black, near the display case halfway down the gallery. Something about the voice nagged at Dot, but anger drove it from her mind. The man was crouched down, tying something around a bleeding arm. Serves him right, Dot thought uncharitably.
Dot stepped quietly through the door. Eased it shut behind her. Turned the key quietly and pocketed it. Now there was only one way out of the gallery and she planned to get there first.
The man stood up sharply as she started to move and Dot froze, certain he couldn't help but see her. But he turned back to the broken case and started sorting through the display items. Most were tossed aside with barely a glance and little care. Then he stopped and pulled a piece of paper from a side pocket on the black pants. The torchlight moved from the object in the case to the paper and back again. The black balaclava nodded once. The antique letter opener disappeared into a black bag and was strapped to the man's leg.
Dot kept moving till she was at the entrance to the gallery. The noise the thief was making covered her tracks well, and she found the light switch easily. Closing her eyes for a second as she flipped the switch on, she was highly amused to hear a startled yelp, and a pained yell. "Shit!"
The thief was running towards her at once. Dot stood her ground, waited until he was almost close enough to touch her. Then she swung her walking stick and whacked him across both knees. A gasp of pain preceded the thud of the thief's head hitting the doorpost. Dot whacked him across the back for good measure, and raised her stick for another blow.
"Leave off, you dozy old bat,scarpe gucci donna!" The voice sounded pained, and very young. Dot paused for a second.
"Why should I? You broke in. You're taking things that don't belong to you. Why shouldn't I show you the error of your ways, young man?"
"It bloody hurts, that's why!"
"Good. Nice lads don't steal."
"Maybe I'm not a 'nice' lad. Ever think of that, you old cow?"
"I'm sure your mother raised you better than that, youngster." The stick came up and whacked the man on the arm. "Don't move, or would you like me to remind you again?"
"Okay, okay."
"Right then, now move."
"What? You just said no-"
"Into that chair. Move" The stick waved, and the man started to move.
Dot watched him hobble to the chair. The guard sat there when the Castle was open to the public, and it was a good solid chair. More importantly, the guard also kept a ball of twine in the desk next to the chair, usually to rope off areas for cleaning. Appropriate, Dot thought,birkenstock gizeh sandals, this piece of rubbish also needs to be cleaned up.
Dot grabbed the twine and quickly tied the man's wrists to the arms of the chair. Standing back to consider her handiwork, she shook her head. She could do better. She tied his ankles to the chair legs. For safety's sake, she ran a few strands of twine around his body as well, and straightened up with a satisfied smile.
"Don't go anywhere, love. Back in a jiffy."
Dot ambled over to the administrator's office in the corner of the long gallery. Reaching the administrator's desk, Dot started to shake. She dropped heavily into the chair, as events replayed themselves. What had she been thinking, coming here alone? She was a sixty-three year old housewife, married to a perfectly ordinary man who looked after the Castle grounds. What possessed her to come chasing after a thief on her own? Now that the anger had drained away, Dot realised she was terrified. She'd tied a burglar to a chair with red twine. Oh Lord, what would Ernie say when he got home tomorrow? Slightly hysterical giggles fought their way to freedom, at the thought of the expression on his face.
The sound of movement across the gallery brought Dot back to reality. She needed to do something. She couldn't simply sit here and shake. Taking a deep breath, she forced herself to look at the thief. Twenty feet away, tied to a chair, he actually looked a little pathetic. Not threatening in the least. Watching the blood drip off his injured arm, Dot found she actually felt a little sorry for him. And that blood would ruin the finish on the floor, if she didn't do something about it soon.
Practical considerations were always soothing to Dot's orderly housewifely mind. She immediately felt calmer. Right, my girl, she thought, time to pull yourself together. There's work to be done. First order of business: call that young Constable Harris to come and remove that excuse for a decent member of civil society. Second: call the administrator to come and let the constable in. Third: sit myself down and have a nice,nike air max classic bw, hot cup of tea.
Decisions made, Dot straightened up in the leather chair, pulled the telephone towards her. Time to roust Constable Harris.
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