The Final Report
The old English Tudor style public tavern was quiet.
It was getting ready for the latter crowd of rowdy beer guzzling youths who would soon arrive for their Friday night session.
Detective Inspector Smith moved quickly into the small quiet cubicle at the rear of the bar room. He always booked it for one hour after the end and sentencing of each of his case murder trials.
This particular murder had been a grisly and horrendous. One where the judge had described the accused as a barbarian destined for hell.
He had sentenced the accused to the maximum period of 25 years without parole and stated if he could he would have sentenced him for 1000 years.
The Inspector sat quietly sipping his beer with a small pad of his case notes on the small table. He waited and watched the seating part of the high backed padded seat before him until he felt the slight swirling motion of the air.
He read his case notes ending with the sentencing, the judge’s remarks and his own particular comments he was certain there would be an effort by the other prisoners to kill the accused.
He leaned back and waited until he detected the familiar movement in the air on the seat, like the beginning of the wind starting to fill the sails in a sailing ship – and then it was gone.
He moved toward the door: his other final report would have to be finished at the police station.
