The Opus Urban Myth

Given the urban myth of the murder/suicide or Ronald Opus (refer  for the source) we were asked to select one of the characters in the tale, and present the story from their point of view, using dialogue. Most writers selected Ronald Opus, his mother, the medical examiner.
Me, I had to go for the obscure character, a mention only – one of the building workers, mentioned almost as an aside.
I chose to present only the words a workman said, not both sides of a dialogue. And I shan’t apologise for shifting the locale to the UK not the US. This is the result of a 15-minute quick-write

“Yer, I’m free to talk to yer nah, h’officer”

“Nah, we’ve bin workin’ on upgradin’ v’ buildin’ fer munfs nah. Vat safety net only went up on Sat’dy nigh’, ‘cos up to v’ Fridy we’ve bin workin’ only dahnstairs – basement an’ grahnd floor.”

“Got an ‘elluvva shock when ‘e come dahn – broken glass frough v’ mesh – good job we’s all wearin’ ‘ard ‘ats. But v’ fellah wot landed in v’ net – gawd – scared v’ b’jesus outa ever’ one!”

“Aah, could tell ‘e wuz dead or dying. ‘Free shots in ‘is chest ‘n’ side, an’ one ‘frough an ear?!”

“Oh, Joe – over vere, see – ‘e ‘unts, see. So ‘e knowed vey was shotgun pellets, not bullets. ‘Sides, we’d only ‘eard one blast.
Joe reckoned  v’ shot frough v’ ear woulda bin v’ fatal one. Y’know – going inter v’ brain an all. ‘E reckoned eiver a long barrel, or righ’ close range.
Yeh, talk to ‘im wen ‘e’s finished at v ‘ambulance – ‘s in shock, y’ know.”

“Yeh, course we knew ‘im. Well, not ‘is name but.”

“We’d see ‘im goin’ in an’ outa v’ block, same as alla tenants. E’d sometimes come aht grinnin’, stuffin’ cash inter ‘is walle’.”

“Nah, a while ago ‘e wuz comin’ aht in a righ’ rage. An’ ven since, gerrin’more mis’rable ev’ry day fer weeks, nah.”

“Fink it’s sumfink ter do wiv the ol’ couple livin’ on v’ ninef floor. ‘E’d visit vem near on ev’ry day jist abaht. Usually wen v’ ol’ man weren’t  ‘ome – ven ‘e’d visit.”

“Oh, well some of v’ crew’ve bin workin’ on v’ stair wells, so vat’s where vey’d see ‘im, ven.”

“Nah, v’ lifts dahn’t work, mate.”

“Me? Nah, I’m orrigh’ mate. Takes more‘n some poor sod droppin’ aht frough a winder ter shake me.’’’

“Fanks, hofficer. No worries. ‘Ope you find wot yer need ter sort aht yer paper work an’ all. See ya later.
– ‘Oy, Ron? Put v’ billy on, son!?”

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