RED SKATE CHAPTER SEVEN

Mr Entwhistle stood in the middle of the circle of inspectors, brandishing his bottle of alcohol.
"Doesn't anybody care!" He was bellowing. "Why isn't anyone looking inyo the murder of my daughter!"
Charlie was one of the inspectors standing closest to Mr Entwhistle. "Listen, Mr Entwhistle," he started. "We have two inspectors already looking into the case of your daughter's murder." He turned and motioned towards Cathy and I.
Mr Entwhistle followed Charlie's motion and saw us.
"WOMEN!" He bellowed. "WOMEN!" He spat in our direction. "How dare you put two women in charge of solving my daughter's murder! Everyone knows men are better at that job!"
This was a truly unfair sexist comment that I felt I had to put my two pennyworth in.
"Listen, Mr Entwhistle," I said. "We've already put a suspect on our list. He wasn't guilty, but it's a start."
Mr Entwhistle glared at me. The last time I saw a glare like that, Vicky Pollard had told them to 'stop giving me evils!'
"How dare you talk to me!" He snarled. "How dare you stand here and talk to me, when youi should be solving who killed my Julia. If your first suspect wasn't so guilty, shouldn't you be there, looking for the one who is guilty!"
He was slurring his words, which led me to believe maybe the bottle of alcohol was entirely full.
"You're drunk, Mr Entwhistle," said Cathy, sauntering over to him and taking hold of his arm. Mr Entwhistle tried to brush her away, but Cathy has got quite a very firm grip.
"I think maybe you should go home, and sleep this off. We'll find the scumbag who killed your daughter and put him or her away for life. If you let us get on with it, maybe the case will be solved in a few weeks."
"A FEW WEEKS!" Mr Entwhistle succeeded in brushing Cathy's grip off and pushed her to the floor. I raced over to help her up.
"I DON'T WANT THE CASE SOLVED IN A FEW WEEKS! I WANT IT SOLVED NOW!"
"Well, as amazing as modern technology is, we won't be able to do that. " Said Charlie. "Now, I need a couple of volunteers to take Mr Entwhistle down to the cells. He's not fit enough to be at home on his own."

I went home for the third time that night. I checked my answering machine like I always do when I've been away for a long time. It's a little ritual that I have, kept up for such a long time. Even though no-one actually calls me. Unless it's work.
I was quite surprised when I had at least three calls on the phone. Two was from my mother, asking if I'd heard about the young girl Julia Entwhistle, and was I solving it, seeing as it happened where I lived. The other one from her said would I like to come up to her's at the weeken.
The third call was from Cathy. This was the most surprising call of all. I'd just given her a lift home, so the last time I saw her was about forty minutes ago. Why was she calling so soon? I pressed the play button and listened to it. As I listened, a cold trickle ran down my spine.

"Sally... Come here... Quick... Help me..."

I listened, wide-eyed, as I heard Cathy screaming, and a sort of chopping sound.
Deciding to leave my mother's calls for the time being, I grabbed my car keys and headed out the door, again.

When I got to Cathy's house, I saw the front door was wide open. I shot out of the car, and ran up the path leading to Cathy's house. As I walked along the corridor, my eyes darted around. I was aware that there had been some sort of struggle, Cathy's ornaments were smashed all over the place, little bits here, little bits there. As I walked into the living-room, I saw a puddle of blood that had trickled like a stream. I looked above just where the blood stain was, and I screamed.
Cathy was lying there, but this time, she wasn't watching TV; drinking vodka and eating chocolate biscuits. She was sprawled on the floor, an ice-skate sticking out of her forehead, with a big dent surrounding it.
I sunk to the floor, my knees weak. My mouth felt like the Sahara Desert. I couldn't understand why my best friend was lying dead on the floor, with a skate sticking out of her forehead. Suddenly, I felt like I wanted to die. I certainly felt dead inside, suddenly cold and feeling there was no reason for my life anymore. Quickly, I snapped out of it. I couldn't just do nothing. My best friend had just been brutally murdered. I couldn't understand why. Then a train of thoughts began running through my mind, I could hear it chooing away.
'Why was Cathy murdered?' 'Did this have anything to do with Julia Entwhistle?' 'Did the murderer want to remain anonymous?'
All these thoughts ran across my brain. I shook my head, trying to get rid of them. I couldn't stay here, listening to them. I had to get out there, and try to find the answers.
I stood up. Trembling. My knees were still weak. As I tried to walk, I couldn't stop myself looking back at poor Cathy. And I stumbled...

I woke up, a few hours later. I looked around me. I made out a large room, which looked really dingy, and had dirty walls. I looked at the floor upon which I was lying. But I was staring at a dirty, blood-stained mattress. Then I realized! I was in a prison cell. Did the police arrive, and think I was the one who killed Cathy? If so, why didn't they wake me, and ask for my side of the story? Instead of jumping to fucking conclusions and just locking me up?
I decided there and then that I had to get out of here. I got up off the bed, and walked over to the door. Damn, it was locked. I'd have to wait until someone came to talk to me...

Find out what happens next in Chapter Eight...