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

Dane to the Rescue

"Imogen, are you OK?" Andrew asked softly.

"OK?! I'm locked in an old ice house! And we will die here, because no one will think about looking for us here! And no one can hear us, unless they're standing right behind the door!"

Air ran out in Imogen's lungs, and she inhaled spasmodically.

"Mops..." 

Andrew tried to start comforting and reassuring, no doubt, but Imogen hissed at him and peeled herself off him. She flailed her hands in the darkness, bumping her fingers into the objects and the policeman near her.

"What are you doing?"

It felt odd to hear his disembodied voice. The darkness was impenetrable.

"I'm confirming whether I remember where everything is. And I do. I was here when your Dad locked the door, remember?"

She ran the tips of her fingers along the old bits and bobs around: parts of a metal gate, some garden tools, and an old broken chair. Andrew's father had been planning to renovate the things currently stored in the ice house, but had never gotten around to. Imogen's inspection also revealed two old flower pots, the case for a sewing machine, and the top of a garden lantern - just as Imogen could see in the image in her mind. She would have thanked her photographic memory, if a key or a backdoor had been featured in that picture.

"One thing is for sure, there's no point screaming," said Andrew. "The nearest building or road are too far away. It's Mrs. Turner's cottage and her lane, and she's away for hols. And even if she weren't, she'd never hear us from there."

"Will they worry about you at work tomorrow?" Imogen asked. "Presumably she locked us up here to die." Imogen gulped. "I doubt she'll inform anyone where we are, even if she's planning to do the runner."

"I doubt it as well. She's most likely committed one murder, or possibly two, and has attempted the third. What are two more bodies for her?" Andrew said.

Imogen glared towards where she estimated the man was. If he was trying to raise her spirits, he was doing quite a lousy job of it.

"And yes, of course they'll worry. But I doubt they'll start the search right away. They'll wait for 48 hours. And given, it'll look that we disappeared together..." Andrew drew out.

"What? You think they'll assume we... what? Eloped?" she squeaked in indignation.

Andrew didn't answer, and Imogen shifted her weight between her feet. They were cold on the stone floor.

"Won't Oakby worry about you? If you don't come back to the Headmistress' house?" Andrew asked quietly. His voice seemed unpleasantly tense to Imogen.

"Um... Well, you see, he wasn't going to return to the mansion tonight." Her own voice was no better, Imogen thought.

"Oh?" Andrew supplied what seemed to be an empty interjection. "But you are expected in the office tomorrow, aren't you?"

"I am," Imogen said bleakly.

"Imogen, I think in the current circumstances it makes sense to speak openly," Andrew grumbled. "Will, or will he not worry about you not showing up tomorrow?"

Imogen exhaled sharply.

"To be honest, Andrew, I doubt Mr. Oakby would notice if I disappeared for a week," Imogen said bitterly. As soon as she allowed the first words out, there was no stopping her. All her misery of the previous day resurfaced and bubbled up. "Firstly, because he generally tends to forget that I, or any other person, exist. And secondly, I sort of half-quit earlier today."