Free Running Stupid: (Mystery Series) by James Kipling Page A

time he finished the bowl, he was brought a refill from the pan, which sat on a simmering heat in the kitchen.
     
    He ate almost half a loaf of bread with his soup, as well as two portions of cherry pie. An intense hunger had gripped him hard as soon as he sat to eat. Before that, he’d been sure he could plod along for days without food.
     
    After eating, Mary and James cleared the table – refusing Matthew’s help, insisting that he was the guest and it was their job to look after him. They draped a wool cloth over the table top and then laid out four place mats; one for each diner and one for the centre of the table.
     
    Leaving James and Matthew to their topical banter, Mary returned ten minutes later, cradling a large tray. She rested the tray on the table and slowly began removing its contents.
     
    On each mat, in front of each person, she placed a cup, a saucer, and a silver spoon. In the middle of the table she put a large teapot, steaming with hot black tea; a tray of assorted biscuits, rich tea, digestives, bourbons, custard creams; a small jug of milk and a cup of sugar cubes. After returning the empty tray to the kitchen, she sat down to join her husband and their guest.
     
    “Thanks a lot,” Matthew said. “The dinner was wonderful,” he said, filling his cup with tea, milk, and, to the surprise of his hosts, four sugar cubes. “You’ve been really nice. You don’t meet many people like you anymore. I thought society had completely sucked the kindness out of the world, but,” he looked at the pair and smiled. “I guess not,” he finished.
     
    “We like to please our guests,” Mary said gently.
     
    “I thought you said you didn’t get many guests?”
     
    James shot an awkward glance his wife’s way. She stumbled on her words before answering, “We don’t. But like I said, we have our nephews and nieces. They come often.”
     
    Matthew smiled and took a small sip of tea. “Have they been recently?” he queried.
     
    “Not for a few years,” Mary quickly answered, but her words were overlapped by those of her husband’s.
     
    “Not recently,” he said, his voice raised. He frowned, his features twitched, and then he said, “Like Mary said, not for a few days.”
     
    Matthew looked up to see the married couple smiling at him. Their eyes almost transfixed on him. “Uh-huh,” he nodded slowly, feeling ill-at-ease all of a sudden. “You know, it’s getting late. Maybe I should get going.”
     
    “But you haven’t finished your tea,” Mary said, her voice as warm as ever.
     
    “I know, but,” Matthew paused. James had stood and was walking out of the room, heading in the direction of the front door. Matthew arched his neck, trying to see what he was doing whilst still speaking to Mary. “If I don’t leave now, you’ll never get rid of me,” he joked.
     
    Mary smiled, and for a moment her eyes locked with Matthew’s. There was something deep inside those hazel orbs that didn’t seem right. Jester shrugged it off and stood, still facing her. “Thank you so much for the food, and the arm thing,” he stopped smiling and stopped speaking. Mary was sitting with her head resting in her hands, and the posture made her look completely innocent. But Matthew saw that she wasn’t looking at him. Her gaze fell over his shoulder, behind him.
     
    He felt a warm breath on his neck. It rushed through the small prickly hairs which all stood on end. Before he could turn around, something hard clipped the back of his head with skilful and deadly precision. He was unconscious before he hit the ground.

 
11
     
    When he woke, he woke to needles in his brain. Tiny men inside his head were giving him acupuncture. His head throbbed violently, the pain orchestrated from a spot at the back of his skull. He opened his eyes slowly and painfully. Strips of light slid into his vision, burning his pupils and sending searing pain through his brain.
     
    “What the …” he