Roger Noons
a pint of Worcestershire cider, from the barrel
‘Emergency, which service do you require?’
‘Will you send an ambulance please, to Valley Farm, Lindbridge, the
field opposite the Woolpack pub. A chap was helping himself to my mistletoe,
looks like he’s fallen off his ladder.’
The senior paramedic, John, talking into a mobile phone, was watching
his partner carrying out resuscitation procedures. Brings a whole new meaning to
kissing under the mistletoe, he thought. When the partner shook his head, John
switched off and walked back to the ambulance. ‘Thank God we’re close to the
gate.’ he muttered, as he withdrew the trolley.
As soon as the man’s clothes were cut away, the pathologist identified
a gun shot wound. ‘What’s the name of that farmer?’ she called out.
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