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The Copse Corpse


Part ten


A week later and there still had not been anything from Maddy. No phone calls or malicious messages. Just silence. Jonathan would wait patiently from the phone to ring or the letter box to flap.
Adding the finishing touches to his Caesar salad, his mobile rang. He was glad. He hadn't had a phone call in over a week from anyone. Adam was on holiday and the show was off the road for another three weeks. Jonathan answered the phone. He was even happier to hear a familiar voice over the phone.
"Jonathan. I'm so sorry. I didn't mean to sound so crude last week. You have to understand that that was a very trying time for me. You are still talking to me, aren't you?" Jonathan left the phone silent. Maddy's impatience grew. "Aren't you?" "Yes. Where are you right now?" "I'm parked outside yours. I hope you've got something to eat, I'm starving." Jonathan didn't have the chance to answer, there was already a knock at the door.
"Come in. The foods on the table, make yourself at home." She didn't even bother to take her coat off. She sat down and began to consume a lettuce leaf. "Have you heard from the police?" Maddy took a gulp. "They have informed me that Helen could get life. They also let her friend off. Helen admitted to borrowing the gun and not telling her friend for what purpose." Maddy took another mouthful of her salad and Jonathan joined her. "Sorry to bring it up again but what did Helen say to you on the way out?" Maddy turned. "She told me that Corpse wood would be a perfect place for a dead body." Jonathan looked puzzled. "But it's not called CORPSE wood it's called COPSE wood." Maddy gave an unusual smile. She seemed amused. Jonathan was glad. He knew now that things were back to normal. Well, at least until she found another story.


I hope you liked my little mystery. I'm only sorry that it was that short. I mus admit it isn't that good. If any viewers think they can do better (which is most of you) e-mail me with a plot, the story or just your name and e-mail so you can chat.

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