a pint of Worcestershire cider, from the barrel
‘Emergency, which service do you require?’
‘Will you send an ambulance please, to Valley Farm, Lindbridge, the field opposite the Woolpack pub. A chap was helping himself to my mistletoe, looks like he’s fallen off his ladder.’
The senior paramedic, John, talking into a mobile phone, was watching his partner carrying out resuscitation procedures. Brings a whole new meaning to kissing under the mistletoe, he thought. When the partner shook his head, John switched off and walked back to the ambulance. ‘Thank God we’re close to the gate.’ he muttered, as he withdrew the trolley.
As soon as the man’s clothes were cut away, the pathologist identified a gun shot wound. ‘What’s the name of that farmer?’ she called out.
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