Mr and Mrs Tarra were walking home from the conference, arguing loudly. Mr Tarra was asking how on earth his wife could believe such a 'dim man', and Mrs Tarra was singing his praises, and saying she had no idea why he didn't trust her. Yes, this was quite a usual day. Their arguing had gradually grown louder, and as they were both talking over the top of each other, the man grew suspicious when his wife's protests stopped short.
Mr Tarra, or Roger to his wife and friends, was a tall gentleman, with short greying hair, and a rather large pair of ears and nose. His eyes, however, were quite small and green, like those belonging to a cat, and indeed, he was a very cat-like man in many ways. His grey moustache was twitching in anger, and his hands were shaking madly, making the cane he held in his hands shift about dangerously. His pin-stripe suit and tie were the same colour as his moustache, although the large boots he wore were over-sized and a very murky colour.
"What's the matter?" He asked dryly, but the anger showed in his voice, although he tried to hide it.
His wife trembled; she was at least a foot smaller than him, and a very fragile, frightened woman. Her hair was blonde and it flowed down the back of her blue, sea-like dress. Her blue eyes tried to reach her husbands gaze, but couldn't; his eyes showed too much anger to her liking. She raised a trembling, yet perfectly manicured hand, then pointed at a stretch of bushes, saying simply, "Someone -" her voice faltered, as it hadn't really looked like a 'someone'. She began again quickly, correcting her mistake, "Something was there."
The man raised a black, bushy eyebrow, and let out an impatient sigh. "Emily, it was probably no more than a cat." His eyes had narrowed in suspicion, and she could read him like a book. The unspoken words were told as their eyes met. 'Idiot. Stop trying to change the conversation because it's favouring me.'
"It wasn't a cat," she said quietly and calmly, but her eyes grew in indignation. "I see plenty of cats a day, and it wasn't one. I know a cat when I see it. And no, it wasn't a dog or anything like that either. It looked so strange."
Her husband spoke sarcastically, "Then maybe it might have been a human? Some children playing around in the bushes? For all you know, it could have been your own daughter!"
"It wasn't a human! As for Aluviel, she doesn't play out." The woman was now annoyed. "You don't even know your own daughter, and her likes and dislikes! No wonder she hates you!"
Silence. Tension hung between them, and the woman stared at her husband open-mouthed, shocked at how insolent she had been for the first time in her marriage. He was glaring at her, and she was cowering. His eyes narrowed dangerously, and it was almost as if steam was about to flare from his nostrils. Then he stormed off, his eyes boring through the dusty road, and his wife just stood, watching. A few moments later there was a slam; his front door.
The woman shivered, and wondered whether or not she should follow. Her feet made the decision for her, as she soon found that she was heading towards the house. The white cottage was beautiful, flowers growing in the front garden, and she paused before the front door. She knew her husband would be mad, maybe even waiting for her on the other side of the door.
She shuddered, and her mouth wobbled. She decided that she's try to outsmart her husband and go in through the backdoor. She moved around through the side gate quite reluctantly, hating to give him the sense of power, but she knew it was necessary. She surveyed the house, it always looked such a quiet, cosy cottage. Hold on. Why was Aluviel's window open? It never usually was. She knew her husband wouldn't have done anything, would he?
She hated thinking this of him, and averted her eyes to the ground then started. Dry blood lay on the floor, small speckles of it. More of it was on the leaves of a bush, somewhere near under the window. The woman's face whitened as she drew apart the leaves of the tree, expecting to see a dead animal, but not what she saw. The woman's pale, gaunt face moved away from the bushes and for a moment she was speechless. Stunned. After a moment to recover, she took a deep breath and screamed as loudly as she could.
Her neighbours must have heard her scream, and she knew they'd never liked her because of the way her husband was so confident and mouthy. Disapproving looks mounted behind walls that the woman couldn't see, but one woman was actually cheeky enough to open her window and yell out, 'Will you people ever shut up?! You'll be turnin' into yer 'usband one o' these days!' As the window slammed shut, the woman's face paled and she hoped she'd imagined it. She built up her courage again, and checked. No, it was definitely there.
Mrs Tarra threw up violently onto the grass, her head swimming; she had to grab onto the drainpipe to stop herself from falling as she let out another scream, though this time it was much weaker than her first, more pleading, more desperate. She threw up again, this time in the little gutter, still clinging onto the pipe as if her life depended on it.
A noise came from inside the cottage, an impatient groan, and she knew her husband must have heard her. She hoped he'd believe her and come and help, but in the back of her head was a strong, nagging doubt that she tried unsuccessfully to ignore. There was a loud crash as the front door was forcefully pushed open, and then Roger's booming voice filled the area. 'MIRIAM! What's up now?'
'I. I. It's.' The drainpipe seemed to slip through her hands and the ground rushed up to meet her with startling speed and force. Her figure was pale and shaky, yet the woman made no movement or any response to her husbands' questions and loud voice that was attempting to command her up and on her feet.
'Oh, Lord,' The man groaned, reaching into his pocket and flipping out an expensive phone. His hand pushed the '9' button three times, and he waited impatiently for the phone to be picked up. 'Hello? Yeah. I need an ambulance down here fast.'

* * * * *

'Ah, Mr Tarra, would you care to sit down?'
'Like I have any choice,' the man grumbled, but seated himself anyway at the chair in the office. He examined the room carefully and it seemed perfectly ordinary; brown desk, desk chair, computer, bookcase. He tried to ignore the fact the books in the bookcase were all about crime and criminal offenders. 'So, tell me why I have to be here? I don't believe we've got to that yet,' The man folded his arms across his chest, in what seemed a domineering action.
'How did you come across your wife like that? Why was she there? Did she say anything to you? Did.'
'Woah, slow down.' The man grumbled, then spent a minute considering what to say before addressing the DC interviewing him. 'My wife was screaming. I heard her. I went to her. She fainted. She said nothing of value. I have no idea why she was there.' His answers were short and simple, and the man smirked at the DC in a despicable manner.
'Right. Did you argue with your wife? You were seen with her minutes before she was found.'
'No comment.'
'Did you think you had to pay her back for something? Did she disagree with something you said or did?'
'No comment.'
'Did you.'
'I refuse to answer anything else without a solicitor present. I know my rights, and I will say nothing until I get one.'
The constable stood and let out a weary sigh, cocking an eyebrow at the man before him. 'As you wish. Interview terminated at 23:11.' The man reached across the table and pressed the stop button on the tape recorder before pocketing it, and opening the door, calling to two guards to guard him. They both stood at outside the door whilst Roger drummed his fingers on the desk impatiently, watching the security camera in the top left-hand corner of the room, and the DC left the room to talk to his Sergeant, and see what questions to ask when the solicitor was present.

* * * * *

'Ah, Mrs Tarra, glad to see that you're back with us.'
Everything was swimming and Miriam blinked rapidly to clear her vision, trying to see who the man talking to her was. She couldn't recognize the voice. She looked at him inquisitively, and in a small, weak voice uttered, 'Who are you?'
The man fumbled into his pocket, pulling out a card and showing it to the woman whilst speaking the name written on the card. 'DC Sharp, madam. I'd like to ask you a few questions, if you don't mind.'
The woman was still dazed and again, blinked repeatedly. As the policeman's words sunk in, she wondered what on earth he wanted. 'Um. Yes, of course. Fire away, as long as you tell me what they're about first.'
DC Sharp pulled out his notebook, spent a minute considering how to rephrase it then started. 'A neighbour called the police because they heard someone screaming. When we got there, a man was swearing into the phone, beside you. And you. you were unconscious. So naturally, this is a suspicious circumstance so we have to get confirmation of your husbands story from you.'
She wasn't listening properly anymore. 'Roger, my husband. he never did anything! I swear to you!' Her voice was panicked, but she was telling the truth and it showed in her face. The police officer noticed this too.
'What happened, then? Why were you there? Did he say anything to you? Did he do anything to you?'
She didn't know her husband was being asked the same sort of questions, but she co-operated. 'I. We'd argued, you see. When he went in, I decided to go in through the back so I walked around. I. I walked around.. I.. I. ALUVIEL!' The woman had suddenly started screaming her daughters name, and it took a few minutes before the nurses managed to calm her down enough to make any sense. 'My daughter. She was in the bushes. Blood, blood. HELP HER, PLEASE!' She'd stood up out of bed and had grasped at the arm of the policeman. 'Please, please, help her. Please save her. Somebody. Somebody help her. She could be dead. Dead, dead, dead.' Her face paled, and she keeled over from shock.
'Oh my,' muttered the nurse, grabbing at Miriam before she hit the floor. She pointed to an alarm which the policeman immediately pressed, and numerous people came running into the room, and help the nurse get her back into bed.
'Is she breathing?' The DC asked and the nurse shook her head sadly. 'She's crashed completely. Come on guys, get the crash trolley!' It was wheeled into the room, and when the police officer left, they where yelling 'She's not responding! Try again, try again.'