Free The Twisted Knot by J.M. Peace Page B

care of.’
    Aiden appraised him. ‘What have you got in your pockets that you shouldn’t have, Eric?’
    â€˜Nothing,’ he replied.
    â€˜Let’s have a look then.’ Aiden gestured for Eric to come across to the police car. ‘Empty your pockets. Put everything on the boot there.’
    Eric held Aiden in a bloodshot gaze as if he was sizing him up. Aiden kept his weight on the balls of his feet and his hands loose by his sides. He was ready for any move the other man may make. Aiden was confident in his ability to either outrun or outfight this drunk. Tom had already positioned himself to the left of the man, facing side on so he could keep an eye on the man’s friends. They were starting to disperse now that the ringleader had been removed.
    Eric huffed a little, but reached into his pockets. A wallet. A nearly empty packet of smokes. A blue lighter. ‘Fuck it,’ the man muttered as he put a black handled folding knife out of his pocket. It was as long as the man’s wallet, with a lug on the blade so it could be opened one handed.
    â€˜Anything else?’ Aiden asked.
    â€˜Nope. That’s it. You got me. Good for you.’
    Aiden pushed the knife across the boot to Tom, out of the Eric’s reach. Tom grabbed the knife and disappeared into the back of the police car.
    â€˜I’m not going to ask you why you’re walking around with a knife like that, making threats against people. But I am going to seize it and send you to court.’
    Eric sneered. ‘You do what you reckon. Send me to court for a little knife in my pocket while you’re letting the real criminals walk around free. Yeah, that’s justice.’
    Tom reappeared with the Notice to Appear and Field Property Receipt booklets. He handed the NTA book to Aiden and started filling out a receipt for the knife.
    Aiden wrote the NTA filling out the details of the ‘possess knife in a public place’ charge and court details.
    â€˜Here you go,’ he said, handing the paperwork to Eric. ‘Time to go home now. It’s over for the night.’
    â€˜It’s not over,’ Eric hissed. ‘It’s hardly begun.’

20
    Sunday morning was Sammi’s quiet time. She curled up on the couch with a book. She’d broken her rule about not reading crime after a friend had lent her a novel with a glowing recommendation. But right now, despite her friend’s enthusiasm, she found herself distracted. The story was reminding her of all the loose ends at work. Her mind kept circling back to Woodford. What had he done? And to whom?
    Gavin usually played sport on a Sunday, footy or cricket depending on the season. There’d be a game in the morning, or he and his mates would kick a ball around somewhere. Afterwards there’d be a barbecue for lunch, a couple of beers. Then most of them would drift off, depending on whatever else they had planned. Sammi didn’t begrudge him this time. Before she started to work permanent day shift, she was often at work on a Sunday anyway. Or sometimes she went along to Gavin’s games and hung out with the other partners, and they might stay into the afternoon socialising. But often Sammi simply enjoyed having the luxury of time for herself. She tried to avoid doing chores but the way her mind was whirring away today, cleaning the windows might be more productive than reading.
    She was finishing the large bedroom window when Gavin returned home. He plonked himself heavily on the bed. Sammi could smell beer over lemon fresh detergent.
    â€˜So what’s happening with Peter Woodford?’ he asked.
    She took a slow breath before answering. ‘Nothing’s happening with Peter Woodford.’
    â€˜Nothing’s actually happening, or something is happening but you won’t tell me?’ This time there was an accusatory tone.
    â€˜Nothing’s actually happening,’ she replied, giving her head a decisive