The Cricket Bat

“Sergeant Joanne Daly” She thought “I like it”
“Yes sir” Joanne said, grabbed her hat and ran out to her patrol car. She was going to the part of the city she hated, detested even, the very thought of it made her shudder. It was the underworld, the criminal playground. “It’s just a job” she told herself as she got out the car and headed into the rabbit warren of alley upon alley. The dark dank smelling alleys, no doubt dog poo, vomit and mud lined the bottom of her shoes as she was walking. She looked up at the tall buildings, all windows with their curtains closed, not wanting to relate to the dark world which lurked down below, drug deals, murders, a dark place to inhabit.
“I’m sure the Kray’s lived here” She was thinking, “Wait what was that” She shuddered reaching for her truncheon, running footsteps not stopping not taking a break, then as she turned the corner….WHAM. He ran into her and knocked her to the ground, a tall dark man, cheap smelling eau d’toilette mixing with the stale smell of whisky landed on top of her. Noticing she was a police woman he let out a screech of horror as he pushed himself up and ran off into the night. Joanne looked up and there it was, a body, “Oh My God” shaking she grabbed for her radio and signalled for assistance and an ambulance. “Only in the criminals back garden” She said walking towards the body and feeling for a pulse. There wasn’t one. Nothing. Nichts. Nada. “Would she be able to remember the man’s face?”She thought, a thousand questions running through her head. She glanced to her left to blind her nose from the smell of flesh. And there it was, gleaming with fresh, red blood a wooden cricket bat, the murder weapon.

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