Official Town Business (Fox & Oakby Murder Mysteries Book I)

Scrapes and Cogs

"Mops, is that you?"

Sergeant Andrew Cooper stood in the doorframe, his hand on his armpit holster, or whatever those were called. It did make him look quite dashing - and even taller and more broad-shouldered.

"Evening, Andrew," Imogen muttered, slowly edging from behind the desk. 

There was no point in hiding. Andrew always noticed everything.

"What happened to your legs, Mops?" he exclaimed and made a few long strides towards her. "Did you fall off the bike again?"

"It only happened once before," Imogen mumbled and stared at the top of his blonde curly head. 

He squatted in front of her and stretched his hand.

"May I?" he asked and looked up at her. 

Imogen smiled into the familiar green eyes.

"We should go outside. We'll bother the Mayor," she whispered.

"Maybe we should," Andrew said in a pointed tone, but kept his voice down. "He surely has the first aid kit here."

"We have one in the office bathroom, but I'd rather we went to your car."

Andrew got up and nodded.

"Let's go, Mops."

Imogen readily looped her arm through his, and they walked out, turning off the light, and locking the door behind them.

***

Imogen climbed into the back seat of his police car and sat waiting for him to get the kit.

"What are you doing here anyway?" she asked, and his head popped up from behind the door of the boot.

"I was on my way home, when they told me Mrs. Carter from the cottage across the hill saw the lights in the Town Hall offices. She of course rang us up. She was worried it's 'them gypsies," Andrew drew out in a funny high-pitched voice.

"And you got wrangled into checking it out? Poor Andrew," Imogen laughed.

He walked around the car and turned on the light on the ceiling.

"Well, I suppose a girl with smashed knees is a better catch than a band of vagabonds," Andrew answered, giving her an impish grin. He then opened some bottles and a package of gauzes. "Are we ripping your trousers then?"

"I suppose." Imogen threw a doubtful look at the shreds of fabric. "I can always cut them and turn them into shorts."

Andrew pulled out scissors from the kit and started carefully cutting. The knees were in a worse shape than Imogen assumed, and she sighed. The next day would be a blast!

"Andrew, don't think me ungrateful or anything, but could we chivvy a tad, please? I need to go as soon as possible."

"Oh?" Andrew was now cleaning the bruises, and Imogen hissed and squeezed her eyes. "Do you have a date?" he asked and blew gently on her bruises.

"Ha ha," Imogen deadpanned. "What do you mean 'a date?' Haven't you heard? I'm the Mayor's mistress."

Andrew's hands froze, and he slowly lifted his face. Imogen couldn't see the expression very well, since he was blocking the light from the ceiling.

"I'm joking, you clot." Imogen sighed again. "And no, no date. I need to go to Rosie's."

Andrew went back to his work.