Page 84 of Inbetweeners
“Probably.”
Emmett knocked and the door fell open when he hit it.
“Hello!” Emmett called as they walked inside.
Nix closed the door behind them.
They found who they presumed to be Trevor lying in the kitchen. There was blood all over his chest. He only looked to be in his twenties. He fit the profile.
Emmett glanced around. “Think he’s still here?”
“Yes, I am.”
Emmett jolted. “Shit. He’s still alive.”
Nix dropped down at the man’s side and put his fingers on his neck.
“Ambulance,” Emmett said into his phone.
Nix glanced up at him. “Wait!”
“Try CPR.” Emmett rattled off the address, but even as he did it, the sound of a siren filled the air. He pressed the phone against his thigh. “That was too quick. Someone must have already called for help.”
Nix pushed to his feet. “Shit. We’re going to get caught here. Is there a back way out?”
Emmett grabbed his arm. “And look guilty? The old guy saw us. And I’ve just called the police.” He put the phone back to his ear. “Yes. Hurry. Please. We’re doing CPR.” He ended the call. “We need to stay.”
“You’re not doing CPR. You’ve stopped,” said the body.
Nix frowned. “What reason do we have to be here then? The police are going to ask us why and who he is?”
“Don’t ignore me!”
“Well?” Nix said.
“Keep trying to revive me. Tell them I wanted to buy something from you,” said the body.
“A motorbike?” Nix asked.
“I’d love a bike. Name’s Trevor Johnson. I gave you my address in the Red Lion in Lewisham yesterday. Keep on with the CPR. Please.”
As Nix heard the door opening, he dropped down, tipped Trevor’s head back, breathed once into his mouth then pressed on his chest with his hands, pumping the heart in the way he’d been trained to do even though he knew it was pointless.
“Stand back,” someone ordered and Nix slid away as a medic dropped to his knees at Trevor’s side.
The room was full of people then, paramedics and the police. It didn’t seem to be long before the mood of the room changed from manic to calm.
“He’s gone.” The paramedic kneeling next to Trevor stood up.
“No, I haven’t,” Trevor protested. “Stop messing around and give me an electric shock.”
Emmett moved closer to Nix.
“I need to wash my hands,” Nix said.
“No,” a policeman ordered.
“Hey!” Trevor said. “Why isn’t anyone listening to me? It was a grey-haired guy who did it. He said I’d won the Postcode Lottery and I let him in, offered him a cup of tea, and the wanker stabbed me.”
