“THE HORSE DID IT!” I roared at Detective Inspector Redfern, pointing at the nervous beast in the box behind me. He rolled his eyes. The Detective Inspector, not the horse. This was my only chance to solve the murder of Beggy, the jockey, and save myself.
“You, braindead ululating crumpet! You snuck into my crime scene to – what?- brighten my sad little day up?” I kept out of his and the horse’s reach. My jaw still had vivid memories of the time he caught me good with his famous left hook, and no way I came close to that thing.
“But! Facts?” Even Redfern couldn’t be that ignorant. He scoffed and paced up and down the stable.
“Listen, O’Brien. First. Sod off.” He waved his notebook and biro exasperated, “Second. Still, sod off. Third, the victim has an extra hole in his head, from a gunshot. How did the horse do that?” He turned and opened the door. Outside the two PCs standing guard sneered at me.
“DON’T! If you go, I’m the next stiff on your hands, before you leave the Derby!” The beast neighed irritated. I heard a suspicious clicking and eyed the horse. “Uh-oh.” It didn’t match the clopping of the hooves. The hair on my neck stood on end. “Redfern?” The Detective Inspector narrowed his eyes. He heard it too.
“Promise?” He came back into the stable and planted himself behind me. The eyes of the horse turned into red pinpricks fixing me. Just like laser pointers? “Bloody-” Redfern swept me to the ground, as bullets streaked past me. I felt one nick my left ear. “I wish, I didn’t know you.” Redfern’s weight pinned me to the ground.
“See? Told you, the horse did it.” I grunted. “Bloody robotic horse.”
Keywords: Detective, Epsom Derby, Mystery; pic here;
Flash fiction for Microcosms 135