Murder at Winterbrook

8. Cat's paw

          Layer after layer of malevolent overcasting and cumulonimbus clouds was already ravaging above the vague sky and ogled at the lifeless and unaware ground before them, watching and waiting to boom. The clouds joined together and grew huge in the process of dropping down their tears of fury which dripped mercilessly along with pregnant drops. Gusts of wind circled and spiralled in the atmosphere, bolts of lightning shot out at sudden moments, eager to cause heathen havoc.

Mort soon got out a brown-coloured cotton-lined handkerchief and placed it where the blood was bleeding which then the handkerchief soon turned blood-soaked.

"Give me my gun!" a low-voiced Blake said, chokingly.

Mort rolled his eyes around and was puzzled to spot a revolver a little far next to Blake.

"Do you always carry a gun along with you like this?" Mort asked, his eyes broadening with amazement, taking the gun, and giving it to the still semiconscious Blake who then simply slipped it into his coat-pocket immediately.

Mort helped Blake to stand on his feet. Mort put Blake's hand around his neck and Blake walked along with the help of support of Mort. Blake appeared rather like a boozer when walking.

They finally reached the car and Mort set Blake in the back seat and Mort drove the car in the driver's seat.

"Go to Ashing's house!" Blake exclaimed with hard efforts along with his still low-pitched voice.

"But look at yourself! You are in a bad condition!" Mort said.

"Do what I'm telling you!" Blake told.

"But..." insisted the worried Mort.

"No butts!" Blake stated, "Do what I'm saying!"

"OK!" the now annoyed Mort said, already turning the wheel to the entrance of Evangeline Town then after about fifteen minutes arriving at Clementine Street. They reached the house of Ashing and as Mort finished to park the car, he got out and helped Blake again to walk to the door. The door flung opened by somebody else, it was Kingsley.

On the background, beyond the horizon, lightning came crashing down its bolts from the silver clouds, totally terrorising the town. Unexpectedly, out of nowhere, thunder roared out ear-droppingly like a lion. Continuously, the hair-raising lightning was devastating and soon the ground became battle-scarred.

Kingsley cast a quick looked at them and questioned, "What the bloody hell happened to him?"

Mort did not answer and gestured Kinsley to move from the door. Kingsley moved from the door and Mort made Blake walk the few steps to the armchair.

Kingsley, Lucy and I were shocked by seeing the bad state of Blake.

Kingsley turned his face to Mort, "Can I have my answer now?"

"Ask Mr The Hawk himself!" returned an irritated Mort.

Kingsley turned is face to Blake and Blake said rather gradually regaining his strength, "The culprit has just simply hit my head against a big branch and ran away."

"And why did you go to the forest again?" I interrogated, leaning slightly forward, and squinting my eyes with scepticism.

Blake replied, " The culprit left off his watch next to Clara Rose and I took it intentionally to set a trap for him and me, in my turn, I was to capture him. And..."

"And?" I said, interested in the words which Blake poke.

Blake said something that made all of us wide-eyed, "And now, I'm understanding that the whole thing was merely a paw."

"A CAT'S PAW!?" I said, pulling my eyebrows together and bringing it into a frantic frown.

"Yes, the whole plot was a play of a cat's paw," Blake said.

Just then, the phone of Kingsley chimed in his coat-pocket. He got the phone out and read the message. He turned his face to us and said, gulping his saliva which glided down his throat, "Gerome Franklin is dead!"