Official Town Business (Fox & Oakby Murder Mysteries Book I)

Bring It to Light

Imogen was paddling through the dark streets of Fleckney Woulds, her heart thrashing in her throat. Thankfully, the grumpy and quite good-looking Welshman named Jones, whom the Mayor had suggested to Imogen as a bike expert, had put lights on Imogen's rejuvenated machine. Otherwise, she would be in danger of her usual bicycle related calamity to befall her.

Imogen swirled and swooshed into the bushes near the tunnel exit, jumped off her bike, managing to scrape only one leg, which in her case was a significant accomplishment, and started shaking her multiple keys, looking for the right one, with a loud jiggle.

The tunnel was dark, and she rushed inside. She was lighting her path with her mobile, and after two turns she was finally on the last stretch, just by the door that led to the Town Hall library. There, near the floor, she could see a glimmer of another phone, presumably the Mayor's. Imogen had a daft thought that this phone had never in its digital life been that close to the ground.

The Mayor was sitting on the floor, folded in a surprisingly compact ball. His knees were pulled to his nose. Imogen dropped on her knees in front of him.

"Mr. Oakby." She could see the frantically widened eyes, and could hear the ragged breathing.

"The door... I don't have a key..."

"It's OK! I'll open it, in a mo! You just have to move away from it, it opens inwards." 

She saw the Mayor shake his head jerkily. He shifted, and suddenly a hot large hand grabbed Imogen's knee. The fingers of the second hand locked around her upper arm. Imogen decided not to take it personally.

"Mr. Oakby..."

Suddenly his arms went around her, and Imogen was squeezed so tightly that she now knew how a toothpaste tube felt. The long nose pressed into the top of her head, and Imogen was plastered on his wide chest. Imogen commanded herself to ignore the muscles she felt through the soft tee - but to catalogue the experiences for further processing, of course - and she pressed her hands into his sides and pushed.

"John, I need you to move away from the door," she said in a firm tone. 

The Mayor jolted but seemed to be somewhat responsive. 

"C'mon, c'mon, just a smidge," Imogen continued. "That's good. Just scoot a bit..."

The Mayor was heavy. A somewhat resisting Mayor was immoveable. Muttering and stroking his upper arm, Imogen finally persuaded him to crawl couple feet - which was a task in its own since he was refusing to release more than one of her hands, and every time she tried to untangle, he'd wrap around her like an octopus.

Finally, the Mayor was relocated. He was now kneeling in front of her, his arms around her middle - once again, that was to be recorded in her photographic memory and put aside for now - and she stretched and unlocked the door.

It opened, the light rushed in, and the Mayor lunged out of the tunnel - surprisingly, pulling Imogen with him. She'd expected to be abandoned as soon as the trap was opened.

They fell on the floor of the library, and Imogen once again gasped in shock, when the Mayor scooped her in his arms and pressed her into him. He was once again snuffling into her hair, and against her will she hugged him back. He was shaking.

"It's alright... It's alright... You're out..." she muttered, and gingerly stroked the back of his head. 

The hair was wet, soft semi-curls sticking up on his nape. She'd just noticed that the Mayor was dressed in PJ bottoms, soft fluffy socks, and an old tee. Most likely he'd just taken a shower when he was incarcerated in the tunnel.