Kindle Edition
markcsuttonauthor
Category:
Humor
Publisher: Mark C Sutton
Type: Fiction
Pages: 217
Copyright: Dec 18 2015
Price: $2.99 (eBook)
The year is 2057, and a serial-killer known only as 'Shy-Boy' is making his presence felt deep in the heart of the decaying, slum-ridden English city of Blackchapel. Assigned to investigate the series of murders are two privately-funded policewomen, the level-headed and professional Stacey Hetheridge, and her erratic, lice-infested and booze-addled colleague, Milly Flopper, who just happens to harbour a very dark secret; the young woman is a dangerous psychopath, who has secretly killed before, and is only too keen to murder again.
'Milly Flopper, Psycho Copper' provides not only a brutally dark and humorous tale of two very different women trying their best to solve a baffling murder mystery, but also offers a disturbing look forward, at a completely dysfunctional future that England might well be slowly sleep-walking towards...
Disclaimer: 'Milly Flopper, Psycho Copper' contains scenes of violence and coarse-language, and is most definitely not for minors. Similarly, if you are easily offended, then it is highly recommended that you do not read this novel. You have been warned!
Excerpt
July 2057, Crawford, eastern district of the city of Blackchapel, Southern England.
A private security and policing employee called Stacey Hetheridge led her colleague down a dark, damp and narrow hallway, and into a small bedroom. The woman accompanying her, Detective Milly Flopper, popped a sweetie into her mouth as she followed Stacey into the room. Milly held a small white paper bag out to her fellow policewoman.
“Want one?” She asked, offering her colleague a sweet.
“What are they?” Wondered Stacey, a tall and attractive woman of thirty three years.
“Fizzy felching fruities.” Replied Milly, sucking on the sweetie in her mouth.
“No, I mean what ARE they? What are they really called, Milly?” Stacey Hetheridge responded. Milly Flopper shrugged her shoulders.
“I just told you what they’re called… fizzy felching fruities.” The younger and smaller policewoman stated, her face emotionless, pale blue eyes as cold as ice.
“No, Milly, that’s just a name that you’ve made up for those sweets… no confectionary manufacturer in their right mind would call them ‘fizzy felching fruities’… do you KNOW what the word ‘felching' actually means?” Stacey asked.
“Of course I know what ‘felching’ means.” Replied Milly Flopper, crunching down on the sweetie in her mouth. “I ain’t stoopid, stupid.” She sneered at her colleague, before retracting her offer of a sweet by stuffing the paper bag back into her coat pocket.
Milly Flopper yawned, and then looked across to the single bed that was in the corner of the room. On top of it lay a woman, dead. The policewoman stared at the corpse thoughtfully, whilst picking at a piece of candy that had got stuck between the gap in her top front teeth.
“Is that Joyce?” She asked Stacey Hetheridge.
“That’s Joyce.” Confirmed the older woman. “Joyce Williams, forty one years of age, former single mother, lived in Crawford for all of her adult life. Joyce was originally from Merivale, in the West Midlands. She moved down here in 2037 after succesfully obtaining employment as an import and export officiator down at South Crawford docks… the job went tits-up after a few years, and Joyce here - and the guy that she’d married - fell on hard times. Ended up in Blackchapel Poorhouse for a while.” Advised Stacey.
“No kidding? Blackchapel Poorhouse? I’ve got a couple of relatives stuck in there… some second cousin and his wife. Never met ‘em though.” Said Milly. “You say that Joyce was a former single mom? What’s the story with that then?” She wondered.
“Joyce Williams gave birth to Alfie, a boy, in 2044, whilst incarcerated at the workhouse. Joyce, her husband, and baby Alfie managed to get out of the poorhouse in 2045 coz hubby managed to get a full-time job… except he started hitting the booze pretty hard, which caused him to soon get the sack. The marriage hit the rocks, Joyce began to work the streets, struggling all on her own with the sprog… child services somehow got involved, and back went Alfie to the poorhouse… in 2048, to be precise.” Explained Stacey.
“But not Joyce?” Asked Milly Flopper.
“Not Joyce. She stayed here. All on her own.” Replied Stacey Hetheridge, who was also gazing across to the corpse lying on top of the bed.
Mildred Lullaby Flopper walked across to the bed, and sat down on it, next to the dead body of Joyce Williams.
“Did Joyce here ever try and get herself reunited with the nipper?” She asked Stacey.
“Nope. Alfie died in the poorhouse at the age of ten. Dysentry. There’s no record that Mom here ever had any more involvement with Alfie after he’d been taken off her in 2048.” Stacey advised.
“Dysentry? Nice.” Commented Milly, running her fingers along the length of a deep purple bruise on Joyce Williams throat. “Choked, yeah?” She asked Stacey. The policewoman nodded.
“Strangled manually. No signs of any other sort of trauma or injury whatsoever.” She said.
“Did the murderer fuck her? Any funny business going on down in Joyce’s knickers that I need to know about?” Grinned Milly.
“There’s no evidence of any sort of sexual assault.” Replied Stacey. “And stop smirking, Milly. This isn’t funny.” She rebuked her colleague.
“Maybe our killer got their kicks in another way.” Considered Milly. “Joyce here was blindfolded.” She added.
“Blindfolded? Are you sure?” Asked Milly’s colleague.
“Of course I’m sure. Come here a minute.” Milly beckoned to Stacey Hetheridge, who walked across the room and sat down next to her colleage on the bed. “See these two horizontal lines, running above and below Joyce’s eyes, across her nose… unless she was wearing some sort of weird and rectangular wraparound glasses, I’d say that these marks were left by a blindfold.” Milly said, still grinning like a complete lunatic.
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