Page 16
Story: Death on the Rocks
“Should I get on with some work or something?” he said, his head flicking up abruptly.
“Oh, no.” Mrs Miller shook her head. “Don’t worry about working today, love. There’s nothing urgent, anyway.”
“I don’t mind,” he said, looking suddenly desperate to escape the room. “I can go out and get on with the garden work. Unless you need to ask me anything,” he said to PC Grainger, who shook his head.
“I don’t want you working,” Mrs Miller said, eyes filling with tears. “It feels wrong somehow, to just carry on as though nothing has happened.”
“Can I go home then?” he asked uncertainly.
“Yes,” Mrs Miller said. “You get home if you want to.”
“Actually,” PC Grainger said. “If you could just hang on for a bit.”
“Why?” Alanna screeched. “We’re not suspects or anything, are we? You said it was an accident.”
“You’re all free to leave whenever you like,” PC Grainger said calmly. “It’s only that they’re about to move the body. You might prefer not to see.” He shot a sympathetic glance at Oscar who swallowed hard.
“I’ll wait a bit,” he mumbled.
Beside him, Mr Miller rubbed a hand frantically across his forehead. “What an absolute nightmare. I can’t believe it.”
Lily wondered how many times that statement had been uttered in the last hour. Disbelief was apparently the sentiment of the day.
Another crackling voice came loudly but unintelligibly over the walkie-talkie and PC Grainger retreated to the hallway again.
“This is going to be bad for business,” Mr Miller muttered, shaking his head.
“Rodney!” his wife spat. “What a thing to say.”
“Sorry.” He looked apologetically at Alanna. “That was insensitive. Ignore me. It’s just the shock of it. My head is all over the place.”
“No,” Alanna said, her tears seeming to evaporate. “You’re right. This is terrible. Oh, my goodness.” She slapped a hand over her chest. “What if Vinny was right?”
“What are you talking about?” Marc asked gently.
Alanna looked at him with a horrified expression. “He said that his photographs were the cornerstone of my blog. That without him, I’d be nothing. What if he was right?”
“I don’t think that’s something you need to worry about.” Marc tucked a lock of her hair behind her ear only for it to fall immediately forward again.
“No,” Mrs Miller agreed soothingly. “Besides, I’m sure your followers will be very sympathetic, given the circumstances.”
Alanna’s hand went to her mouth and she sat up straighter. “Yes. They should be sympathetic to my grief. I’ll write a post about what happened. A nice tribute to him. They’ll all be sympathetic. Maybe I’ll even get more followers from it,” she ventured.
“Maybe.” Mrs Miller patted her hand.
“I won’t write about it today,” Alanna said decisively. “That would be insensitive. Maybe tomorrow, or the day after.”
PC Grainger slipped back into the room while Alanna continued to debate the best time to post on social media. He went straight over to Lily.
“Are you okay?” he asked.
“Yes.” She had the full mug of tea in her hand and nowhere to put it. “I can’t drink it,” she whispered. “It’s more sugar than tea.”
Taking it from her, he set it on the coffee table then returned and crouched beside her chair. “How are you feeling? You had quite a shock.”
“I’m okay. It feels a little surreal.”
“That’s normal.”
“Oh, no.” Mrs Miller shook her head. “Don’t worry about working today, love. There’s nothing urgent, anyway.”
“I don’t mind,” he said, looking suddenly desperate to escape the room. “I can go out and get on with the garden work. Unless you need to ask me anything,” he said to PC Grainger, who shook his head.
“I don’t want you working,” Mrs Miller said, eyes filling with tears. “It feels wrong somehow, to just carry on as though nothing has happened.”
“Can I go home then?” he asked uncertainly.
“Yes,” Mrs Miller said. “You get home if you want to.”
“Actually,” PC Grainger said. “If you could just hang on for a bit.”
“Why?” Alanna screeched. “We’re not suspects or anything, are we? You said it was an accident.”
“You’re all free to leave whenever you like,” PC Grainger said calmly. “It’s only that they’re about to move the body. You might prefer not to see.” He shot a sympathetic glance at Oscar who swallowed hard.
“I’ll wait a bit,” he mumbled.
Beside him, Mr Miller rubbed a hand frantically across his forehead. “What an absolute nightmare. I can’t believe it.”
Lily wondered how many times that statement had been uttered in the last hour. Disbelief was apparently the sentiment of the day.
Another crackling voice came loudly but unintelligibly over the walkie-talkie and PC Grainger retreated to the hallway again.
“This is going to be bad for business,” Mr Miller muttered, shaking his head.
“Rodney!” his wife spat. “What a thing to say.”
“Sorry.” He looked apologetically at Alanna. “That was insensitive. Ignore me. It’s just the shock of it. My head is all over the place.”
“No,” Alanna said, her tears seeming to evaporate. “You’re right. This is terrible. Oh, my goodness.” She slapped a hand over her chest. “What if Vinny was right?”
“What are you talking about?” Marc asked gently.
Alanna looked at him with a horrified expression. “He said that his photographs were the cornerstone of my blog. That without him, I’d be nothing. What if he was right?”
“I don’t think that’s something you need to worry about.” Marc tucked a lock of her hair behind her ear only for it to fall immediately forward again.
“No,” Mrs Miller agreed soothingly. “Besides, I’m sure your followers will be very sympathetic, given the circumstances.”
Alanna’s hand went to her mouth and she sat up straighter. “Yes. They should be sympathetic to my grief. I’ll write a post about what happened. A nice tribute to him. They’ll all be sympathetic. Maybe I’ll even get more followers from it,” she ventured.
“Maybe.” Mrs Miller patted her hand.
“I won’t write about it today,” Alanna said decisively. “That would be insensitive. Maybe tomorrow, or the day after.”
PC Grainger slipped back into the room while Alanna continued to debate the best time to post on social media. He went straight over to Lily.
“Are you okay?” he asked.
“Yes.” She had the full mug of tea in her hand and nowhere to put it. “I can’t drink it,” she whispered. “It’s more sugar than tea.”
Taking it from her, he set it on the coffee table then returned and crouched beside her chair. “How are you feeling? You had quite a shock.”
“I’m okay. It feels a little surreal.”
“That’s normal.”
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