Harold glanced toward the house where there was a distinct lack of activity.
The two police officers were in animated discussion with the doctor who had already taken out his mobile phone, presumably to play them the recorded distress call and was now making frequent gesticulations toward both the house and to Harold and Sefskapoi. He could guess what was being said; the doctor didn't need a ten-bob rod to guess that something fishy was going on.
The male officer broke off and strode toward them. “I believe you know something about the situation, sir?”
“Not a lot, actually.” Harold was relieved to find he didn't recognise the officer. Many of Laverstone's police knew him at least by sight which might have caused difficulties later. “We're just friends of Mrs Fenshaw's nephew. We were on our way to the bowling green when he got a call from his aunt to say she'd fallen over. Of course, we came as fast as we could.”
“I see, sir. And you are?”