Skeletons in the closet, and doppelgangers

A story called “Mistaken Identity”

…

How many of us have skeletons in the closet that we know nothing about? The skeletons we know about generally stay there, but those we do not, well, they have a habit of coming out of left field when we least expect it.

In this case, when you see your photo on a TV screen with the accompanying text that says you are wanted by every law enforcement agency in Europe, you’re in a state of shock, only to be compounded by those same police, armed and menacing, kicking the door down.

I’d been thinking about this premise for a while after I discovered my mother had a boyfriend before she married my father, a boyfriend who was, by all accounts, the man who was the love of her life.

Then, in terms of coming up with an idea for a story, what if she had a child by him that we didn’t know about, which might mean I had a half brother or sister I knew nothing about. It’s not an uncommon occurrence from what I’ve been researching.

There are many ways of putting a spin on this story.

Then, in the back of my mind, I remembered a story an acquaintance at work was once telling us over morning tea, that a friend of a friend had a mother who had a twin sister and that each of the sisters had a son by the same father, without each knowing of the father’s actions, both growing up without the other having any knowledge of their half brother, only to meet by accident on the other side of the world.

It was an encounter that in the scheme of things might never have happened, and each would have remained oblivious of the other.

For one sister, the relationship was over before she discovered she was pregnant, and therefore had not told the man he was a father. It was no surprise the relationship foundered when she discovered he was also having a relationship with her sister, a discovery that caused her to cut all ties with both of them and never speak to either from that day.

It’s a story with more twists and turns than a country lane!

And a great idea for a story.

That story is called ‘Mistaken Identity’.

Writing a novel in 365 days – 9

Day 9

OK. We’re not doing much writing, and today, we have another suggestion, one that might cause an unnecessary rush at the stationary store for pencils.

I was in one today, a place called Office Works, getting some folders to put the printed copies of my latest books about to be published.

I’d previously bought, pencils – a box of 24, a motorised pencil sharpener, cards – though I intend to use these for a non fiction book, pens – red, blue, black, erasable – for doing crosswords. I’ve not had to buy notebooks for a while, small and large, but last time I got some journalist note books.

But, I digress…

It is suggested and I think it’s a great idea that at times it is better to write down the story, mainly because I can write as fast as the ideas come, and I cannot type that fast. Not without a million errors and a lot of indecipherable words.

There are exponents for both means of getting words on paper, but I have to say the majority of my original books were written in small notepads, at work and elsewhere because ideas and storylines come to me at the sometimes most awkward moments.

Consider carrying around d a notebook and pencil or pen.

Otherwise, my other means of getting ideas down is a note-taking app on my phone, the best at the moment being Somnote.

And tired of waiting for the moment when the book gets underway, stand by, news on that front is coming.

In a word: Freeze

Yes, if the temperature was 20 degrees below zero and the forecast for the net week was the same, then that would be the big freeze.

In a more understandable way of putting it, to freeze something is to preserve it at a temperature below zero.

Some things don’t freeze, like petrol.

And you want to hope that you put antifreeze in your radiator otherwise you are going to have big problems with your car in winter.

It also means to stand still.

You can also isolate someone by freezing them out.

And freeze in fear, unable to move, like a deer in headlights.

But the worst example of a freeze is when your computer stops, and you forgot to save that 200-page novel, thereby being lost forever.

No.  That would never happen, you had autosave on, didn’t you?

Didn’t you??????????

Freeze is not to be confused with a frieze which is a broad horizontal band of sculpted or painted decoration, especially on a wall near the ceiling.

Or frees, which in some countries type of football described multiple free kicks, in one sense, and, in another, what you do when you let them go, e.g. he frees the dog.

“The Devil You Don’t”, she was the girl you would not take home to your mother!

Now only $0.99 at https://amzn.to/2Xyh1ow

…

John Pennington’s life is in the doldrums. Looking for new opportunities, and prevaricating about getting married, the only joy on the horizon was an upcoming visit to his grandmother in Sorrento, Italy.

Suddenly he is left at the check-in counter with a message on his phone telling him the marriage is off, and the relationship is over.

If only he hadn’t promised a friend he would do a favour for him in Rome.

At the first stop, Geneva, he has a chance encounter with Zoe, an intriguing woman who captures his imagination from the moment she boards the Savoire, and his life ventures into uncharted territory in more ways than one.

That ‘favour’ for his friend suddenly becomes a life-changing event, and when Zoe, the woman who he knows is too good to be true, reappears, danger and death follow.

Shot at, lied to, seduced, and drawn into a world where nothing is what it seems, John is dragged into an adrenaline-charged undertaking, where he may have been wiser to stay with the ‘devil you know’ rather than opt for the ‘devil you don’t’.

newdevilcvr6

The cinema of my dreams – It all started in Venice – Episode 22

A very interesting dinner party

…

Larry saw them first, and from his stance, and expression, it looked to me like he had seen a ghost.

It was not a ghost, but two women, one easily identified as Cecilia in a khaki soldier uniform, with the sniper rifle over her shoulder, and another, and perhaps the more interesting of the two, Jaime.

I heard Larry mutter under his breath, “What the fuck is she doing here.”

Whilst I would not have used the same words, I did wonder why she was here.

They both stopped at the threshold of the patio.  Curiously, the only two people not fazed by either presence seemed to be Brenda and Larry’s mother.

“I see the gang’s all here.”  Jaime had a smile on her face like it was a party and she was late.  She looked at me.  “You can still surprise me.  It was a good thing I turned up late otherwise you’re friend here might have had a problem.”

“I had them covered,” Cecilia said, a little defiant.

A close inspection showed Cecilia was rather disheveled and sporting a few abrasions.  The question was who she had been scrapping with.

As I swiveled towards Larry, Jaime said, “the rest of your crew are feeling somewhat sorry for themselves, and, last I saw, are being taken away by the local police.”

Cecilia came over to stand next to me.

Larry asked, “What were you going to do with that weapon?”

“Shoot you if all else failed.  I had the shot.”

“Let me guess.  Jaime convinced you not to.”

“Only because she wants to do it herself.  Fine with me, because I hate shooting people.  Even scum like you.”

I was not sure if Larry was upset over being labeled scum, or if she had been prepared to shoot him.  I was still trying to understand what was happening.

Brenda looked in the mother’s direction, “Can you take the children into the other room.  We need some grownup time.”

Whilst none of them wanted to leave the room, curious at the turn of events, especially the son, they reluctantly joined the mother and went out of the room.

It took a minute, maybe a little longer to finally figure out the dynamic in the room.  There had been several, I wouldn’t call them furtive but knowing, looks between Brenda and Jaime, not as if they were foes, but friends.  The same could be said for Larry’s mother, and putting the pieces together I realized I had been used as a pawn in a plan to isolate Larry.

Although I didn’t think it was likely, it seemed to me that Jaime had made overtures to Larry rather than the other way around, gained his trust, got him to put his stuff in her warehouse, informed on him, and gotten herself raided so she had a degree of plausible deniability.  That would give her the opportunity to shift the blame to Larry, earning him a place on the most wanted list, and being out of the country at the time was a bonus.  Before all this, either Brenda or his mother had arranged for him to come and see her, thus effectively isolating him from his organization, and coincidentally more guilty.

So, what was the reason for me attending the interview, other than to reinforce Larry’s criminality, and use Rodby to fire up the local police?  How could she know about Rodby … unless, of course, she had been speaking to Larry’s mother to whom I let slip was interested in her son.

Then the timing of all this happening was of interest because they could all have moved on this ten years ago right after Trevor’s untimely death, but, I guess, they had to wait until the inheritance came due.  The death of Larry’s brother, and the upcoming distribution of his father’s assets, seemed to be the catalyst for what now appeared to be a bloodless coup.

And with Larry out of the way, it would all go the Brenda, or perhaps the mother.  The terms of the will would make very interesting reading.

The next question was whether Jaime was taking over, with the consent of both the mother and daughter-in-law?  Or was the daughter-in-law taking over from the incompetent son?  Or would they all be running the operation together?

The questions were piling up.

“I can see this situation is somewhat perplexing for both you and Larry,” Brenda said to me.

“I’ve just been reading between the lines, and if it is what I think it is, then it’s well played.”

“You have nothing to fear from us,” Jaime said.  “You, too, had a problem, and Christina wanted to do something for you after you helped her out of a tricky situation.  Things will be different from now on, and you might be interested to know I made arrangements with the Detective Inspector as you suggested.”

I was watching Larry the whole time and he was definitely at a loss, not quite comprehending what was happening simply because to him it would be incomprehensible that women were capable of doing anything.

Brenda added, “Larry has been staggering from disaster to disaster, but there is only so much one can put up with before something had to be done.  Jaime came to see me about a year ago and proposed a mutually advantageous merger, and that she would take care of Larry.  We let him think he was running things but really, he hasn’t had a say in the business for about six months now.   The old ways are no longer useful, violence only brings attention to our business, the attention we don’t need or want.  Sorry Larry, but you are surplus to requirements.”

Larry had, over the course of the last few minutes looked both astonished, angry, about to unleash a torrent of abuse, and appearing to think twice about it.  To be honest, I could not imagine what he was thinking.

But it did make his obsession of wanting to wreak vengeance on me a rather sorry footnote to a long and useless career in crime.  I could almost want to believe his wife had sidelined him out of pity, but a practical person would say it was out of self-preservation.  How he managed to keep out of jail was a minor miracle.

But it was true, he had been leading them down a very dangerous path, bringing unwanted attention to his own organization, and now, in the case of Jaime Meyers, others too.  What I saw now was a new brand of criminality, and it was going to be a lot harder to deal with.

“This is a joke, of course,” he finally said.  “Who put you up to it, tell me who it is, and I make him regret the day he was born.”

It was still inconceivable to him that Brenda could be smarter than him.

“And that, Larry, is exactly the reason you have to go.”  It was a statement delivered by Jaime in a manner that sent shivers down my spine.

To me, she said, “as much as I would like you to stay and get to know you better, I think it’s time you and your friend left.  The less you know about what happens next, the better for you.  Just be happy in the knowledge that your problem will be dealt with, swiftly and permanently.”

“Then I can go back to retirement?”

“Definitely.  I am sorry to hear about your recent loss.  You can tell Juliet when you see her that her brother has been released, and she is no longer obligated to Larry.  Tell her very few people get a second chance.”

“Indeed.” I looked at Cecilia.

“Let’s go.  I’ve got an audition for that mercenary role tomorrow, and I think I know exactly how I’m going to play it.”

“Then until we meet again,” I said to Jaime.

“That is not very likely.”

“In my experience, never say never.”

© Charles Heath 2022

Writing a novel in 365 days – 23

Day 23

Today’s discussion is about the writer’s point of view.

This is different to the point of view, like writing in the first person.

I’m not sure as Rod Serling puts it, “The writer’s role is to menace the public’s conscience”.

Maybe if you’re going to intertwine the dilemma of climate change advancing upon us in a practical sense through the pages of a novel, though if you are well versed in what climate change is going to do, it might serve as a warning, and help slow it down.

It might also be used to highlight the very real effect of women being treated badly in a number of situations, at home, at work, and in general.

It might also highlight the very real problems that people in the United States are going to be subjected to in the wake of the ‘two genders’ proclamation. Knowing several transgender and non-binary people, it seems to me that it is an affront to their dignity. A story that highlights their plight might go a long way to educating others about their situation.

There are a great many themes, some of them controversial, that could and are aired from time to time, and it is a path you can go down, but a lot of research is required to get an accurate picture.

As someone who is closely associated with a transgender, and who has travelled the rollercoaster ride of discovering who they are, the discussions with psychiatrists and doctors, the ‘exercises’ that the subject undergoes, long before the operation to change gender, the surgery, the aftermath, and the reaction from those closer and not so close, I can say from experience that it is brutal and sometimes leaves the subject questioning everything.

It is not surprising then that the suicide rate of transgender people alone is one of the highest in the world.

Perhaps I will get around to writing that story sooner rather than later.

The cinema of my dreams – Was it just another surveillance job – Episode 24

I’m back home and this story has been sitting on a back burner for a few months, waiting for some more to be written.

The trouble is, there are also other stories to write, and I’m not very good at prioritizing.

But, here we are, a few minutes opened up and it didn’t take long to get back into the groove.

Chasing leads, maybe

…

My next call was to Severin, also a number on a card.

It rang five times before he answered.  “Yes?”

No name, but I recognized the voice.

“It’s Sam Jackson.”

“You have found the USB?”

“No.  But I did find the flat he was supposedly living in, and it’s a front.  And so clean you could eat off the floor.  Nothing there.  And nothing to indicate where his real residence is.”

“That’s a shame.”

“So is the discovery that you are less than trustworthy.  Explain why I should continue to help.  I assume Maury is your attack dog, so if you’re sending him after me, then you don’t trust me.”

“I don’t trust anyone.”

No hesitation, this was a man to be very careful around.

“That’s fine, you obviously don’t need my help.  And one more thing, if I see Maury again, you won’t.”

I disconnected the call.

“That was brave,” Jan said.

“No.  Just a test to see how desperate they are.  I’ll give it another minute before he calls back.”

It took two minutes.

“Perhaps I didn’t think through the consequences.  Let’s take a step back and reconsider the situation.”

“If you’ve got Maury trying to trace this call, then it’s going to be a series of twenty-second calls.  If I find O’Connell’s second residence or even the USB, and you continue to act in this manner you will be the last to be told.”

I hung up the phone again.  Not enough time to trace the call.

“Are you deliberately trying to piss him off?”

“Do you think it’s working?”

“Why?”

“Angry people make mistakes.  They made one huge mistake of killing O’Connell before they knew where the USB was.  I’m sure they were hoping he would have it on him.  He didn’t.”

My phone rang again.

“You forget I know where you live.”

Bold move.

“Where I used to live.  It was getting a little cramped anyway.  Call your attack dog off and give me some room to do my job.  This phone is in the bin at the end of this call, so don’t bother tracing it.  I’ve got your number.  Just hope I decide to call you again.”

Call terminated, and a minute later sim removed and tossed down a drain.

“Do you want to call anyone?” I asked.

“Not yet.  I’ve got nothing to report.”

“Your people might have an investigation going that might involve cyber currency, and O’Connell’s name might pop up.  After all, I don’t think it’s a coincidence that you were living next door”

She was trying to keep a neutral expression, but it didn’t work.  She was next door for a reason, and it didn’t include looking after his cat.  In fact, I was beginning to think that cat belonged to the building, and just stayed with whoever fed it.

“Despite what you might think, it was a coincidence, because after I moved in, I did a few background checks and his was too squeaky clean.

“Meaning?”

Of course, squeaky clean meant only one possibility, he had a cover identity made, and it only went back so far.  Depending on the job, the background could be months old, or a year at the most.

“He was working undercover and didn’t exist three years ago.  So the thing is, maybe he wasn’t investigating cyber currency, maybe he was stealing it, and someone took offense.  But I never saw a computer in his flat, and you definitely need one of those if you’re a cryptocurrency trader.  All I got to talk about was the cat.”

Since it’s hardly the subject you’d talk about with a neighbor, it was not surprising their discussions were mainly of domesticity.

“Was it his cat?”

She shrugged.  “I don’t know.  I think he said he found it in the flat when he arrived, and in feeding it, it just stayed.  Cat’s don’t belong to people; you do realize that don’t you?”

“Never had one.  And I didn’t see a cat there or signs of one.”

“I was looking after him while O’Connell was away, so he’s been in my flat.”

“Only it probably got tossed about the same time as they visited his, and if the cat had any sense, he’d run.  Maury’s the sort who’d shoot the cat, just because it was there.”

“Perhaps we should go back and check.  Why the sudden interest in the cat?”

“It’s the only tangible thing he owned.  Sorry, he was attached to.”

“And you think the cat might be the clue?”

“Have you got a better idea?”

Not answering the question, was the answer.

“It might not be safe.”

“Then stay at the hotel and I’ll see you when I get back.”

She shook her head.  “No, I’m going with you.  Besides, you’ll need someone to watch your back.”

Or stab me in it if we found something.

© Charles Heath 2019-2020

A photograph from the inspirational bin – 19

Does a rainy, cold, miserable sort of day usually reflect your mood?

It could be said the outlook is bleak, but from where I’m sitting, it might be more picturesque.

This photo was taken from the veranda of one of four cottages that have, one one side, a macadamia farm, and on the other, a valley with a small river running through it.

I’m told there is reasonably good fishing in the river.

But, on a good day, with blue skies and sunshine, the outlook is completely different.

This is the sort of place you go to do nothing, perhaps read a book, do a crossword, but nothing substantial.

We come here to wind down, and take several days to do it.

…

But, as for a story…

…

I have in mind a theme of a man on the run, from his past, his demons, and a very dangerous criminal.

Yes, it’s that old story of someone witnessing what they shouldn’t, and paying the price because they did.

Now, hiding out in the country, it’s only a matter of time before they are discovered.

Writing a novel in 365 days – 8

Day 8

I guess before you actually begin writing, or planning, or however it will be when you finally get started, there are a number of preparations to be made, and advice to be taken.

Advice is always good, and today’s is probably more relevant in a few months when the creativity might start flagging.

Writing a novel requires stamina and dedication. That saying ‘when the going gets tough, the tough get going’ is probably a sign on the wall of your writing room.

But that’s only one aspect of this particular item.

It is also relevant when you’ve finally finished the novel, firstly when you sit down and do that first reading, before the editing, or perhaps that first edit.

You are going to think perhaps it’s not as good as you thought it would be.

No, we don’t think like that. it can be fixed by some editing, by you or someone else. Just remember all those days, weeks, and months you put into it, working your fingers to the bone, sharpening the two hundred pencils you wrote it with. Or smudgy biros or leaking ink pens.

Don’t lose heart.

Don’t give up.

There are days when I write absolute drivel, but I always go back, rewrite, re-read, and rewrite until I’m happy.

That first draft is just the ideas, strung together, that will, eventually become that best-selling novel.

Searching for locations: Auckland, New Zealand, a rare day for the port

We were staying at the Hilton and advised there would be a large cruise liner berthing next to the hotel.  There was the Arcadia.

2013-03-08 11.51.48

This is the view from the other side of the hotel.  Where our room was, we could almost walk onto the aft end of the ship.

We were also told this was a rather extraordinary day because there were two cruise ships in the port. particularly because it was near the end of the cruising season.

The other ship was two berths along, the Sun Princess.

2013-03-08 11.56.17

Not as big as the Arcadia, up close it was still very impressive.