The Turnarounders and the Arbuckle Rescue Read Online Free PDF Page B

remains of Gloria’s breakfast (some spaghetti hoops, two pickled onions and a gin sling) when the front door bell rang.
    ‘Ranulf A. Osborne?’ The Police Officer in the shadow of the old porch was not in uniform and his ash-grey suit looked like it had seen better days. The photograph on his ID card had either been taken a long time ago or this man was having a very bad week.
    ‘WHAT?’ the officer barked. ‘ What did you say?’
    Ralf winced. He’d done it again. He’d tried speaking but something other than English had popped out of his mouth. He must concentrate.
    ‘Ralf,’ he said finally. ‘People usually call me Ralf.’
    ‘Detective Inspector Burrowes. I’d like to ask you a few questions.’ The Inspector, who knew nothing of Gloria and her RULES, actually started to step into the hall.
    ‘I can’t have questions in here!’ Gloria swooped down the stairs and flapped at Ralf’s shoulder like a giant pterodactyl. ‘They would definitely affect The Flow!’
    ‘The flow -?’ Burrowes looked confused.
    ‘Exactly,’ Gloria confirmed, as if that explained everything.
    The police officer sighed. ‘If you are unwilling to cooperate here, then I will have to ask you to accompany me to the station.’
    ‘Yes, yes. Off you go!’ Gloria thrust Ralf’s jacket into his arms and shoved him towards the door.
    ‘Will you be accompanying him, Madam?’ Burrowes asked.
    ‘Heavens no!’ breezed Gloria. ‘Far too busy – Affairs of State – you know how it is.’
    Ralf and Burrowes were both standing on the driveway before they knew what was happening. The door closed.
    A cloud covered the sun and the detective squinted at Ralf’s face. ‘Have we met?’
    ‘I don’t think so.’
    Burrowes frowned then shook himself like an old dog. ‘Right,’ he said, wearily. ‘If you’ll come with me.’
    The door twitched open again and Gloria’s face appeared in the gap.
    ‘What’s it about?’ she asked.
    ‘It’s very serious,’ said Burrowes dramatically.
    ‘Gosh!’ Gloria’s amber eyes twinkled. Then she winked at Ralf. ‘How exciting!’
     
    An hour later, Ralf was sitting in a police interview room at New Scotland Yard, clutching a murky looking cup of tea and staring at the first paragraph of a dog eared paperback. Every so often he looked up from the page to stare out of the window at the River Thames below. An ornate barge, filled with people in bright Elizabethan costume, floated downstream. Towards the rear of the boat a woman sat on a fur covered throne. She wore a high winged collar and her red hair was decked with jewels. It was obvious to Ralf that this was some theatre group, touting for publicity.
    He didn’t notice that no one on the riverbank stopped to stare. Passers-by did not even glance at the barge – they carried on with their business as if they couldn’t even see it. It was almost as if it wasn’t there.
    Ralf watched the boat drift downriver enviously. That was how he’d like to be spending his birthday, he thought, bobbing peacefully on the waves, maybe doing a spot of fishing. He chuckled inwardly. What an odd thought! He’d never been fishing before in his life. Suddenly his smile died. His breath caught in his throat as he spotted something in the shadow of a building on the other side of the street. There he was again! It was the same hooded man who’d been standing at the end of his drive only a couple of hours ago. Ralf frowned down at him but was snapped back to more urgent matters by the door opening. D.I. Burrowes slouched into the room and dropped a heavy file on to the table.
    ‘Suppose you start by telling me where you were on the evening of Wednesday the twenty-sixth!’ He dragged out a chair and settled himself noisily on the other side of the table.
    ‘At home.’
    ‘Are you sure? Don’t want to think about it? It’s over a week ago now.’
    Ralf couldn’t figure out where this was going at all. He put his cup down and looked Burrowes straight