Passion Patrol 2 - a Sexy Police Romance Suspense Novel With a Touch of Humor: Hot Cops. Hot Crime. Hot Romance. by Emma Calin

and in every single space between her work, she was thinking of him. She replied with a screen full of xxxxx!!!!
     
     
    Thursday night was parish council night. She booked on for an afternoon shift and went out on foot to make herself professionally visible. The citizens were quick to remark on one thing. She was not PC Flowers. She drank tea at the village shop and met the landlord of The Hunter’s Inn, the very traditional pub. By seven o’clock she was footsore and glad to sit down for the meeting in the village hall. The chairman of the parish council was Colonel Robertson CBE, DSO. He was in his mid-seventies and clearly a man of military heritage.
    He opened the meeting and welcomed Shannon. The minutes of the last meeting were approved and  followed by a discussion about the public purchase of a further red telephone box. A younger lady councillor suggested that no one used telephone boxes any more. It was unlikely the phone company would install any equipment.
    Colonel Robertson blustered to his highest point of oratory.
    “This is not a matter of trivial telephony. It is an ancient principle of the traditions of England!”
    There was a murmur of assent around the table. It was agreed that a phone box would be installed without a phone inside. Citizens could then stand in the box to use their own mobile device, pod, or pad. The colonel thanked everyone for demonstrating the wonderful value of British compromise.
    Next an elderly lady complained that her cat had returned home soaked with water on several occasions.
    “Probably a gardener. Didn’t want vermin shitting on his onions,” said a middle-aged guy dressed totally in corduroy.
    “Perhaps Constable ‘Ag-Where-ee’ could keep an eye out for wet cats,” said the colonel. “I wonder if you have any further news about that ghastly business of the dead body.”
    “I’ve no special inside information. A team of detectives is on the case.”
    She certainly couldn’t release news of any leads.
    “Thank heavens it happened outside the village. I believe it’s at least a mile from the parish boundary. The nearest place is that vile housing project with those vulgar flags,” said Colonel Robertson.
    It was clear that anything outside the Fleetworth-Green frontier may as well have happened in Antarctica.
    “I would ask you all to be aware of the incident and pass on any information to police. If you hear or merely suspect something please come and see me or just call 101. Something that may just seem like gossip can be very important,” she said, trying to sound formal.
    “We don’t want a bloody Gestapo state,” boomed a fruity male voice.
    Shannon looked down the table to see a large, bearded man with a long pony tail. He sported a gold earring and was dressed in what looked like a lilac-colored caftan. An enormous bling watch hung from his wrist. Before Shannon could respond Colonel Robertson stepped in.
    “Constable ‘Ag-Where-ee’ please forgive our member. He’s our resident champagne-socialist.”
    “I love champagne,” she said.
    “And I bloody well don’t,” said the large guy. “I’ve spent my life struggling to expose on film the exploitation of the proletariat by the capitalists, Comrade. It’s a working man’s pie and a pint for me.”
    She resisted the temptation to suggest that his appetite for pies was obvious.
    “I’ll keep an eye open for wet cats and Gestapo,” she said.
    “Thank you, Officer. I’m sure we’ll all help,” said the colonel.
    The meeting closed. She made a show of recording matters in her notebook. She drew a cat wearing a Nazi hat. If ever anyone looked in her book, she’d be in trouble. She shook hands with all the councillors. The guy in the caftan squeezed her hand tightly.
    “I can see by the look of you that you’re a comrade underneath,” he said.
    “I’m a comrade on the surface as well.”
    He let out a bellow.
    “I knew it, Comrade. That bloody Flowers was an old-school fart you