Borsetshire’s Rural Crime Unit (PC Harrison Burns) says he is confident of a quick arrest in the Matt Crawford hit-and-run case.
‘I have made so many enquiries that I have run out of space in my notebook and I have a total of 45 suspects,’ he said. ‘I have ruled no one out unless they have a cast-iron alibi. And I have been careful to think ‘outside the box’, so my list includes a number of known malicious livestock, such as Peggy Woolley’s cat Hilda Ogden and a crack team of Eddie Grundy’s ferrets.’
However, PC Burns said he would now be handing the case over to Borsetshire CID, as it has been confirmed as an attempted murder. ‘The detectives were ever so nice about it,’ he said. ‘They were so impressed with my notes, they pinned them up on the dartboard in the incident room. And when I fetched them cheese and pickle rolls from Bridge Farm tea room, they let me keep the change.’
Ask Auntie Satya
With her warm wit and forensic legal brain, Auntie Satya is here to sort out all of your emotional and practical dilemmas!
Dear Auntie Satya,
My girlfriend Lexi and I went to see the new film, Murder on the Orient Express, but I was distracted throughout because I have CCTV evidence that Adam Macy punched Matt Crawford in the Grey Gables car park, making Adam a possible suspect in the hit-and-run. Lexi was frustrated with me. Do you think we should have gone to see Paddington 2 instead? Roy.
What a shame. Had you gone to see Paddington 2, you could have kept the CCTV footage where Paddington keeps his marmalade sandwiches – under your hat. As it is, watching a film where everyone has a motive for killing a very unpopular man has clearly got your little grey cells working overtime, which in your case hardly ever turns out well. Leave it to the professionals and bury your head in a bucket of popcorn, as Lexi sensibly advises. Auntie Satya.
Dear Auntie Satya,
My husband Adam and I invited Karina, a potential surrogate mother, to lunch. I made salmon quiche, salads and tarte tatin – nothing fancy. When she arrived she overheard us rowing about whether Adam had punched Matt Crawford, and for the rest of the meal we bickered about keeping secrets from each other. Karina later left a phone message to tell us she lived too far from Ambridge to be a surrogate. But I think she changed her mind because Adam was wearing a shirt that made him look like Brian Aldridge. I was disappointed because I was looking forward to taking her up Lakey Hill. Am I right to feel resentful? Ian.
I think if you re-read your letter, Ian, you will find you have answered your own question. Are you convinced you and Adam are really ready to welcome a new life into the world? Perhaps you could adopt a rabbit first and see how you get on? Auntie Satya.
Dear Auntie Satya,
Since my ex Toby and I got back together, on a totes no-strings basis, he has been behaving like the perfect boyf, bringing me muffins in bed and so on. But my parents, who hate him, want me to move back home to Brookfield, which will make things awks for our late-night booty calls. What do you think I should do? Pip.
In your longer letter, you tell me you miss your grandmother’s baking, which is
superior to the leftover conference canapés that so often appear for supper at Lower Loxley. Ultimately, you will have to decide whether you prefer flapjacks or muffins, and this is not a choice you can expect me to make for you. Auntie Satya.
Letter to the Editor
My friend and I recently took advantage of a ‘Hidden Hideaways’ coach tour to Grey Gables Hotel in Ambridge (very reasonable, half a bottle of house Shiraz and complimentary chocolate mint included with the table d’hote). However our first impression was not good as the lady receptionist, instead of checking us in, tried to persuade us to direct the village pantomime. When we declined, she thrust a sheaf of election leaflets at us and said: ‘Turn up and vote! No one will know you don’t live here. The tellers are always asleep anyway!’
But this was a mere distraction compared to the distressing scene we then witnessed. An elderly man, clearly in great pain, staggered out of the lift and tried to drag three large suitcases across the lobby. He was begging for help from a smartly-dressed lady who we assumed was the manager. But instead of assisting him with his check-out and luggage, she stood over him yelling ‘Stop it Tiger, you’re going nowhere!’
We had high hopes of Grey Gables but I would like to warn your readers that if this is how they treat vulnerable, older customers who get behind with their bill, they had better steer clear. And the hotel can certainly wave goodbye to the Saga contract.
Miss Terri Guest