MURDER IS SKIN DEEP by M.G. Cole (read dune .txt) 📕

“Wait!” Garrick shouted as he started forward - and ran straight into the side of a reversing Mini pulling out of the bay next to him. It was no worse than walking into a wall, but the young girl driving was already out and in tears as she repeatedly apologised. It winded Garrick, stopping him in his tracks.

“I didn’t see you! Are you okay?”

Crawford was already in his car. PC Lord bolted towards him.

“Police!” He shouted unnecessarily.

Tyres shrieked on the wet asphalt as the Hyundai accelerated. Crawford had reversed into the bay, so now had a clear run out. He drove straight at Harry. There was a loud crump, and Harry tumbled across the bonnet. He slammed into the windscreen, the safety glass transforming into a spiderweb of white cracks.

The impact rolled Harry onto the roof and pitched him off at an angle. Students screamed and hollered as he crumpled onto the bonnet of another parked car, setting off its alarm.

The young woman was still fawning over Garrick, oblivious to the chaos behind her. Garrick pulled her aside just as the Hyundai roared past, so close that the wing mirror cracked across his already bruised buttocks. Plastic and glass shattered as the mirror snapped away and tumbled across the floor.

Garrick watched helplessly as it sped from the campus. Then he turned and limped as quickly as he could to PC Harry Lord who was sprawled, bleeding and unmoving, across the bonnet of the car.

24

There was no doubt in DCI David Garrick’s mind that Huw Crawford was the key to unlocking the case and now a huge manhunt was now underway for the student.

Harry had recovered conciseness as the Paramedics arrived. Blood poured from a gash on his forehead where he had struck the windscreen, and his right eye was swollen shut. Garrick had lost his temper when none of the students had volunteered any first aid.

“What sort of medics are you supposed to be?” he yelled at them, wondering if the first thing students were taught was the legal ramifications of helping patients. One woman eventually stepped forward and stemmed the bleeding, warning Harry not to move in case he had any spinal injuries.

Three uniformed officers had arrived and kept the students away from the collision site. One approached Garrick with the latest news on the radio – the Hyundai had been found five miles to the north, abandoned on the edge of Whitstable.

That told Garrick they were dealing with somebody prone to panic. Clumsily disposing of the Colt had been his first mistake. Running over his arresting officer was the nail in his coffin. Now abandoning his car in a rural area, with the sea to the north, meant he was hemmed in. Unless he stole a vehicle, but that required a skill set that Garrick was sure Huw Crawford didn’t possess. The police helicopter had been deployed from Essex and would join the search in the next half-hour.

He called Chib and instructed her to bring Terri Cordy in for questioning immediately. Thirty minutes later, the caretaker of Crawford’s student accommodation on Parham Road was opening it for Garrick and a uniformed policewoman. It was a well-maintained modern complex, and the room itself was a far cry from the squalid conditions Garrick had endured as a student. With a double bed, integrated sleek white furnishings, and a small integrated kitchen that was better appointed that Garrick’s own.

Crawford appeared to be a tidy lad. Medical textbooks were stacked on his desk, with pictures of the Grand Canyon, Yosemite Park, and the Mayan Pyramid in Yucatan on his wall as inspirational post-graduation rewards.

With blue latex gloves on, Garrick opened the desk drawers. Amongst pens, a book of stamps, and several food delivery menus, he found a small cardboard carton of 9mm bullets. The crimped blue casings tips indicated they were blanks. There was no computer or phone, both of which he guessed Crawford had on him.

He emptied a small wastepaper basket on the kitchen’s white worktop. Amongst the plastic wrappers, an empty packet of Monster Munch, and some fliers for various student nights, was a return train ticket to London including an all zones travel card for tube and bus. Garrick took a photo of it and told the policewoman to wait until SOCO arrived.

Rebecca Ellis was the next obvious candidate to grill, but he preferred to do that once they had Huw Crawford in custody, so he decided to pay Derek Fraser a visit. Instead of calling Fraser directly, he contacted the officer camped at the bottom of his drive to confirm Fraser was home.

During the fifty-minute drive to Tenterden, he answered a call from Molly Meyers, who had discovered Garrick was at the scene of the hit and run. Naturally, she had assumed it was part of the investigation and wanted the details. He didn’t see the harm in her making more noise about the manhunt. The sooner they found Crawford, the better. He supplied little information regarding the student’s involvement, but he provided details about PC Lord’s assault with as much graphic detail as he could muster.

As he had hoped, he caught Fraser on the hop. His initial surprise gave way to a welcoming gesture into the living room.

“I feel safer now you’re here,” he joked as he disappeared into the kitchen. “Coffee? Tea?”

“No thanks.” Garrick was still pumped with adrenaline and feared that a tea would throw him over the edge. As Fraser busied himself with a Nespresso machine, swearing when the capsule became stuck in the slot, Garrick stopped in front of the television. A huge square of the bloodied carpet had been cut out with some precision. “That will be quite the conversation piece.”

Fraser joined him and nodded. “I plan to have something very nice in its place soon. Tell me, Detective. Just how safe am I?”

“I’m hoping, with a fair wind and a stroke of luck,