A Raucous Time

  Chapter Twenty-Five

   

  Rhyllann’s bed creaked as he turned over; smacking his nose against the metal frame. He gave an experimental stretch; every muscle in his body felt tender and sore, as though he had ran a marathon. Apart from his left arm, which felt dead from the shoulder down. Groaning, Rhyllann swung his feet to the floor and rubbed his upper arm vigorously hoping the feeling would come back sooner rather than later and it wouldn’t hurt too much as the blood re-circulated. He glanced around trying to get his bearings. The only light came through a half glazed door, but it appeared he was in a small room stacked almost floor to ceiling with A4 sized boxes. A voice crackled from the ground.

  ‘Rhyllann? You awake?’ Rhyllann hunted for the source of the voice and found a baby monitor on the floor, next to some handcuffs. This just got weirder and weirder. He decided to ignore the voice and still clutching his useless arm heaved himself from the low slung camp bed only to topple back as the door swung open and a familiar figure entered with a tray, leaving the door ajar.

  ‘Why didn’t you answer me son?’ Crombie laid the tray across Rhyllann's lap as he spoke. The scrambled eggs looked solid rather than fluffy, but the tea looked good and strong. Rhyllann didn’t bother to waste time talking, heaping eggs onto toast, he began savouring the first hot meal he’d eaten in ages. Crombie lowered himself to the end of the bed and watched.

  ‘What’s wrong with your arm?’ He asked.

  ‘Dunno – must have slept on it.’ Rhyllann mumbled, still swallowing.

  They lapsed into an uncomfortable silence. Having scraped the plate clean, Rhyllann chugged back the last mouthful of tea and looked around the room again trying to orientate himself. He wondered vaguely who had taken the handcuffs off.

  ‘A stationery cupboard. You shut me in a stationery cupboard!’

  ‘Think yourself lucky – half the town’s sleeping on the floor over at the civic centre.’ Crombie sounded annoyed at that.

  Rhyllann frowned, trying to think back. Was it his fault somehow? Had he done something wrong? What was he doing here anyway? Why was Crombie bringing him breakfast in bed?

  His mind refused to provide answers, but he did remember Crombie responded better when addressed in subdued respectful terms.

  ‘Thank you Detective Crombie. I was starving. Thank you again.’

  Crombie nodded acknowledgement still looking grim. Rhyllann felt the first tingle of sensation, signalling life was returning to his arm and winced silently. He measured the steps to the door and tried to stand up again. The floor tilted upward and he would have fallen face first if Crombie hadn’t caught him.

  ‘Whoa there. Sit down son. You’re not going anywhere. You and I are having a little chat.’ That sounded too familiar. He responded automatically.

  ‘Why, what have I done? I’m not in any trouble am I?’

  A snort sounded from the open door, Rhyllann’s eyes found the disapproving face of WPC Hewes and his déjà vu was complete.