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The Girl In The White Dress

Coming up with ideas to write new flash fiction is fun, executing those ideas is taking work. A lot of work. For days on end I write and stop, and write and stop, and when the writing is done I check over it adding emotion and other bits and bobs to pull you in. This week I've got The Girl In The White Dress, another new piece of flash fiction to entertain you. I will warn you though, there's some bad language, so if you don't like to read that you should probably look away now. Happy Reading.



The Girl In The White Dress



the-girl-in-the-white-dress


“Who’d want to kill a young, pregnant girl?”

Slumped on her side on the doorstep, a single gunshot to her temple, laid a young woman. A pool of blood spread out around her head, staining the black and white mosaic that decorated the front porch, and soaking her long black mane. Spots of claret ruined her sundress, stretched over a rounded belly, the white cotton absorbed spots on the left shoulder.

Baby formula and nappies had spilled from the grocery bag in her hand onto the porch. Contents from her handbag were strewn across the floor as if an attacker had rifled through it.

Stood in the shade of a robust Oak Tree in front of the woman’s home, Jasper could see along Chatsworth Avenue. At the end of the road cars rushed past, honking as someone got in their way. Parked cars lined both sides of the street, a sign stuck to the tall silver streetlight displaying the words ‘Permit Holders Only’. More trees edged the Avenue on one side, providing shade from the sun. A breeze rustled through the leaves and through Jasper’s hair, but the roar of nearby engines drowned out the sound. The row of terraced houses, painted white, reflected the light and Jasper had to squint. Each house displayed the ‘Bansham’ House Alarms to ward off potential burglars. Pruned and shaped hedges, window boxes filled with Peonies and Dahlias in rainbow colours, and mosaic porches reminded Jasper of home. He shuddered. 

“We’ve got something Guv,” Jasper turned, Clive walked towards him from across the street, “Mr Tennison over there at three-fifty-six says he saw a guy walking by his home at about 3.20pm. He guessed he was 35 years old, a Caucasian man, stocky, with dark or black curly hair on the top of his head. He said he got into a dark blue SUV and sped off.”
“Did he see a plate?”
“No, sorry Guv.”
“Get traffic-cam footage. I want to find that car.”

Jasper looked back at the woman. He couldn’t understand why someone would want to hurt a young pregnant woman. Long black hair, angelic features, and carrying a child? What had she done to get herself killed? Mascara emphasised her lashes and lipstick coloured her lips. She was healthy too, with muscled legs and upper arms. She wore a white sundress and matching converse trainers and had carried a plastic bag home, where she was shot in the head, once. If Jasper hadn’t known better, he’d have guessed it was an assassination.

“What the fuck?” Jasper pointed at the woman’s handbag as an officer picked it up, “What is that?”

He took the bag from the officer and rummaged through the pockets. Lipstick, purse, car keys. Oh, and a 9mm calibre semi-automatic pistol. Jasper pulled the gun from the bag and waved for a separate plastic bag.

“What is she doing with a pistol?” Clive asked.
“I’ve got no idea.”

Jasper dropped the gun into a bag and gave it to the officer standing by, “Get it tested. I want to know why this girl was carrying a gun around with her.” 

He peered back inside the handbag and plucked out her wallet. Opening it, he found her driving licence slipped into a plastic pocket. He tugged the licence from its compartment and looked at the address, glanced up at the grey door, and his brows drew together.

“She didn’t live here.” he said.
“What do you mean, Guv?”
“I mean, she didn’t live here. At least it’s not the address on her licence. This is Sally Maitkin,” he glanced from the licence to the body on the floor, and back again, “of, um, one-ninety-two Church Lane. So why is she here, on Chatsworth Avenue? Church Lane is the opposite end of town.” Jasper looked at Clive, “What is she doing here?”

Clive shrugged. Jasper dropped the wallet back into the bag and handed it to the officer, keeping hold of the licence. Ready to remove the body, two officers rolled her onto her back and lifted her from the doorstep. Her soaked black hair stuck to the blood around her head and slipped from her head, revealing a pixie cut of bright blonde hair. The officers stopped moving.

Jasper stared. “What the…” 
“It’s a wig, Boss.”
“Well, yeh! But why is she wearing a fucking wig?”
“I dunno.”

Jasper rubbed his forehead with his palm, “I don’t think I can cope with this! So, Sally here was so scared she wore a wig, carried a weapon, and lived at a different address to the one listed on her licence. What the fuck was she into?”

Jasper shook his head and folded his arms. With short blonde hair, Sally Maitkin looked like a different woman. Her clothes didn’t fit either, they didn’t match the style of her hair. The crime-scene photographer worked fast, snapping photos of the hair, and moved out of the way to allow officers to move the body again. The two officers moved fast, but as they tried to slide a board beneath the body it got caught. They shoved the board, and a loud rip came from underneath.

“Are you fucking kidding me?” Jasper rubbed the back of his neck, “What now?” 

The officers looked at each other and shrugged. Bent over the body, they hauled her onto her side, and looked at her back. One officer stroked her back, looking for anything torn, and he stared at his fellow officer.

“Erm, Guv?”
“What?” Jasper snapped.
“Think I’ve found something.”

Jasper inched closer, and the officer prodded at the woman’s back. He tugged. Another tear. He then lifted her dress and pulled out a shaped cushion with velcro straps hanging from the sides. 

Jasper stared, wide eyed. “She wasn’t pregnant?”
“Doesn’t look like it, Boss.”
“Who the fuck was Sally Maitkin?”

Both officers shrugged.

“Erm, Boss…” Clive looked towards the end of the street.

Jasper turned and glanced at Clive, who pointed at Jasper’s car, parked at the far end of the road. Standing by his car were four suited men talking to Superintendent Smith. The Superintendent motioned back to Jasper, who started toward the group. He jerked his head and Clive followed.

Jasper stopped next to Superintendent Smith and nodded, “Sir. What’s going on?”
“Ah, DI Hutton. These gentlemen are from GCHQ,” the suited men flashed shiny badges at him, “they’ll be taking over.”
“What?”
“Do as they say. Give them all the evidence you’ve gathered, clear out your men and leave it to them.”
“Um, I’m sorry Sir… I don’t understand.”
“You don’t have to understand Hutton. You just have to follow orders.”
“Um, yes Sir.” Jasper sighed and turned to Clive, “you heard the man, let’s clear out.”

Jasper and Clive went back along the street. Jasper told his officers to clear out. They glanced at each other, shrugged, and started packing away.

“What the fuck is going on, Boss?” Clive asked.
“I don’t know Banks, but I’d say Sally Maitkin isn’t really Sally Maitkin. They don’t want us to know who she was or why she’s been murdered. If it involves GCHQ, you can bet MI6 are behind the scenes too. It’s off the grid stuff, James Bond style, and we don’t make the grade. And I don’t fucking like it.”
“You think she was a spy?”
“Could be. I mean, she was wearing a wig, pretending to be pregnant and carrying a gun. And GCHQ arrive on scene before we can do any proper investigation?”
“So what now, Boss?”
“Now? We do as they say, and clear out. But I’m taking this with me.” Jasper flashed Sally Maitkin’s driving licence before slipping it back into his jacket pocket.

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