Murder at Zero Hour
by Paul Westwood
Copyright 2011 Paul Westwood
Published at Smashwords
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Everyone at the hospital was very kind, but the guard at my door was a constant reminder that I was still considered a criminal. In my condition, the military police weren’t expecting me to actually run away, but it was a matter of regulation to keep a close eye on someone charged of attacking a superior officer. From what I could tell, the hospital was some French nobleman’s house that had been requisitioned by the army. The wardroom that I had all to myself was brightly lit, and through the ornate leaded glass, I could see the well-kept lawn below. Since I was two stories up, I had no thoughts of escaping that way.