A Family Man

It was Gregs first car accident.

As a probationary constable, this was a big deal. Not a nice big deal, but one none the less. Greg was currently looking at a BMW X class fifteen foot up a tree. As he was pretty certain that cars had not yet begun flying this seemed to be quite the achievement by the driver. Unfortunately being on the cutting edge of science had not gone well for Mrs Joanna Price.

A large branch had gone through the windscreen at just the wrong place, and had very effectively decapitated her. Greg knew this, as he had been first on the scene with the Sarge, and had watched her head very slowly roll out of the open drivers window, before landing face down on the road below. The splat it made had been rather resounding. Luckily it was just him and Sarge, who tactfully turned away as Greg vomited into the hedge.

The head had now been taken away by the forensics team, and Greg was helping a crane driver reverse down the single track country road in order to lower the car from its perch. A safety cordon had been erected under the car in order to avoid recreating that scene from the Wizard of Oz, and nothing was in that zone bar a spill kit, which had been placed under the drivers side door in order to collect the blood that was steadily dripping out of it.

“God. This is like something out of Midsummer Murders.” Hannah said after Greg had finished with the crane driver and had walked up the hill to keep her company at the police cordon.

“You’re telling me.” He said. “Never seen anything like it.”

“How fast do you think she was going to get it all the way up there?” Hannah spoke with the kind of glee that people have when a terrible thing has befallen someone that one does not like. Which, to Hannah, was anyone that broke driving laws.

“No idea. She didn’t even slow down, there’s no skid marks.”

“Jesus.”

“Mhmm.”

Hannah looked past the police tape. The two had been friends since primary school, and were now probationers together. They knew these roads like the back of their hands, and all the criminals that went down them. Always tricky when you had to arrest people you used to sit next to in biology.

“Bet you the Echo will be all over this.”

“Probably. They love something juicy. James will be down the station again asking for quotes.”

“Eugh.” Hannah said, the thought of James killing her self-righteous mood. “Where was she from anyway? Don’t think I know the name.”

“Drivers license says Hartlebury.” Greg said, knowing the reaction it would illicit.

“Fucking Hartelbury!” Hannah exclaimed, as if that explained the womans driving habits.

“Fucking Hartelbury.” Greg agreed.

“Oi! McKray!”

Hannah nudged him. “Sarge wants you.”

Greg nodded and trudged back down the hill to where his superior officer was standing.

“Yes sir?” he said.

“Time to go lad.” Sarge said, motioning for Greg to follow him to one of the cars.

“Sir?” Greg asked, falling into step with him.

“Todays your lucky day. Its time for your first death knock.”

The car ride to Hartlebry was probably the most stressful Greg had ever had. He kept fidgeting with his hair.

“Husbands name is James Price. Been married 4 years. Two children. Now, you remember what to do?” Sarge briefed him as he drove.

“Yes sir. Knock on the door. Don’t tell him his wife’s dead until he’s sitting down.”

“Exactly. We don’t want a repeat of what Hannah did a month ago.”

“No Sarge.”

Soon they arrived at the large house. Greg got out the car and buzzed the intercom on the electric gate. He waited and buzzed again.

“No answer Sarge.” He called back to the car.

“He might be out. Give the station a call, see if there’s any other residencies.”

Most people with a house this big in this area had a place in London as well. As it was the weekend it was unlikely that James Price would be in town but it was good to have all bases covered.

Greg phoned the station and Pip picked up.

“Hi Pip.”

“Hi Greg, how’s your death knock going?”

“Not great.” He chuckled, getting back in the car. “Nobodies home.”

“That might be an issue. Want me to check for other residences?”

“Yeah. Husbands name is James Price. There might be something under that.”

“Lets see. Oh Yes. Huh, that’s weird. It says James Price owns two large houses in Hartlebury. One is Willow House-“

“That’s where we are.”

“And the other is Fleming House on the other side of town.”

“Maybe it’s a rental?”

“Nope. Registered to him and Lily Price”

“That’s strange. His wife is called Joanna.”

“Huh. Maybe it’s a sister? I’ll let you get on. Let me know how it goes.”

“Will do Pip.”

“Bye.”

Sarge smirked at him. “What’s your girlfriend saying?”

“Shes not my girlfriend.”

“Oh so you just make heart eyes at her all the time then?”

Greg scowled. “There’s another house on the other side of town.”

“Lets go there then.”

Flemming House was just as large, but had no electric gates to contend with. There seemed to be a bit of a gathering. Several cars were parked on the driveway and music could be heard inside. Childrens screams came from the garden.

“Nothing like crashing a party.” Said Sarge as they walked up the well-manicured path to the front door. “On you go lad. No time like the present.”

Greg had rehearsed this. He walked up to the door, made sure his uniform was straight, tucked his hat under his arm, flattened his hair, and put his most serious face on. He knocked on the door, knowing Sarge had also adopted the ‘this is a very serious matter but you aren’t in trouble’ stance.

The door was opened by a woman in her late thirties. She had a cashmere cardigan on with a pearl necklace, jeans, and the look that all the middle class get when they open the door to the police.

“Good afternoon ma’am.” Greg began. “Is James Price in?”

“Er yes. Why, is he in trouble?” She asked, not sure whether to bar the doorway or let them in.

“Not at all Ma’am.” Greg said. “I’m afraid we have some bad news regarding his wife.”

The woman frowned. Then laughed. Greg looked at Sarge for reassurance. This wasn’t the reaction he expected, but sometimes people did weird things when the police showed up.

“I’m sorry gents you must be mistaken.” The woman said. “I’m his wife.”

Greg was lost. This was not in the training.

“And your name is?” Sarge asked, taking control of the situation.

“I’m Lily Price.” She said “I can get my marriage certificate if you like.” She joked.

Her smile faulted when looking at Sarges expression.

“I think you better had. May we come in?”

Three hours and a lot of shouting later, the two police officers were sitting in the car drinking crap coffee out of takeaway cups.

“Two wives.” Sarge said. “Both in the same town.”

“How did they not get suspicious?” Greg asked, scalding his tongue on his beverage.

“How did they not bump into each other?”

“Do you think there are any more?” Greg asked. “What, one in London as well? Fuck me, who knows? Man must be a machine. I can barely keep one wife happy, let alone two.”

They both looked at each other. Then burst out laughing.

“Oh Christ.” Sarge said. “Fucking Hartlebury.”