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’.

“Betrayal” – the penultimate final draft – Day 23

I’m sure I’ve been down this road more than once, and with the same novel, but whereas the last edit, which was probably the second or third, finished up in the pile, then forgotten.

I’m doing an active update to all my works in progress, and sending them to the editor, after going through the manuscript once again, with a view to publishing.  Hopefully, before the year is out.

…

The story continues.

Chapters 23 through 28 are done and we are on the home stretch.

There are seven days and hopefully seven more chapters.

I have finally decided on how it’s going to end, and he’s not going to finish up with the one he thought he would.

And another twist that no one will see coming, even though there are hints.

I have in mind how this will play out in one of the last three chapters, and there is a devastating truth that comes with it, one that is going to be hard to understand for one of the two main protagonists.

Such is as it should be.

And then, there’s the James Bond-type ending.

In a word: Dear

Yes, it’s that simple word that we use to call someone affectionately.

Or sometimes, with a little accent on the word; yes, dear and no, dear.

In other words, it’s a person regarded with deep affection.

It can also mean expensive, by saying, that’s a bit dear, isn’t it, when we’re really saying it’s way overpriced.

I can’t remember how many times I’ve said something is ‘too dear’ to the children.

Grannies tend to use the expression, ‘be a dear and…’, to get you do do something for them.

Friends, sometimes tongue in cheek, will say, ‘oh dear, I’ve upset you’, when that was exactly what they meant to do.  Friends you say?  Yes, friends indeed.

And then we always start a letter (always?  Who writes letters any more?) with

Dear John (oops, not one of THOSE letters)

Dear Sir/Madam

Of course, instead of swearing, you could simply say ‘Oh dear, you’ve let us down again!’.

And when you lose your job, which is happening a lot at the moment, it is said it would cost you dear, though sometimes it would be more appropriate to use the adverb, dearly.

It is not to be confused with the word deer which is an animal, the males of which have antlers.

There are a number of different types of deer, such as reindeer and elk.  In Canada, they are called caribou.

In Robin Hood’s day, killing deer brought you very harsh punishment.

And one of my favourite meats is venison, meat from a deer, which are farmed in New Zealand along with sheep.

“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’.

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A photograph from the inspirational bin – 15

It’s the obvious items in the photograph that you see first, or that your eyes go to first.

The ocean, the beach, the buildings. You can see a shopping mall with MacDonald’s sign above it.

Yes, it’s late afternoon, and you can see long shadows of the buildings.

So, if I asked you what did you see in this photo, what would your reply be?

From a thriller writer or murder mystery writer’s point of view, it’s what you don’t necessarily see.

So, for the purposes of the story, the opening line for the world-weary detective, handing the photo to his partner, “What’s is it you can’t see in this photo?”

A partner that hadn’t been on the job very long, in from the suburbs, and had seen little more than break and enters car theft, and school kids hi-jinks.

“What am I supposed to be looking for?”

“You want to be a detective, or be looking for old ladies cats?”

His partner takes the photo in hand and looks at it again.  There has to be a reason why the old man had given it to him, or perhaps there wasn’t and he was just playing with him again.

No, he thought, there has to be something…

And then he saw it, quite by accident.  A hand, a gun, and following the line of fire, at the end, what looked like someone in the bushes.

In a photo taken from a higher floor of the building over the road, looking down on what was supposed to be a rooftop recreational area.

Only there had been no report of a missing person or a gunshot wound in the last seven days.

“When was it taken?”

“Two days ago?”

“And no reports of a shooting, or a body?”

“No.  And yet the person who took this swears he saw a body, but by the time he came back, there was nothing.”

The detective handed his partner a second photo.  Time-stamped five minutes later.  With no gun and no body.

What will happen next?

The cinema of my dreams – I always wanted to go on a treasure hunt – Episode 9

Here’s the thing.

Every time I close my eyes, I see something different.

I’d like to think the cinema of my dreams is playing a double feature but it’s a bit like a comedy cartoon night on Fox.

But these dreams are nothing to laugh about.

Once again there’s a new instalment of an old feature, and back on the treasure hunt.

…

Nadia Cossatino was the one girl Alex Benderby couldn’t have for obvious reasons.  The Cossatinos and the Benderby’s were sworn enemies, each running the more nefarious activities in their parts of the city.

Of the two, it was widely known if you crossed a Cossatino, then you were dead, or worse.  Nadia’s older brother Vince was the most feared kid in school, and people like Boggs and I kept well out of his way.

That being said, there was one occasion when we had been caught in the crossfire, and present, accidentally, at a showdown between Alex and Vince, over Nadia.  Alex, as he was wont to do, pushed his luck too far, and found himself on the end of an ultimatum.

Which usually meant a fight in one of the old wharf sheds.

Boggs and I just happened to be in the shed, looking for anything that might have been left behind, when the two warring parties turned up.  Vince and four members of his gang, including Nadia, arrived and Alex with several of his shortly after.

As soon as he saw Vince, Boggs bolted, leaving me like a deer staring into headlights.  I tried to hide in one of the old offices, but Nadia, not one to sit still, not probably interested in the beating Vince was going to hand Alex, came wandering in.

I prayed she wouldn’t see me.

Prayers: unanswered.

“Who is that?”  She knew someone was in the room.

I poked my head above the dusty desk.

She seemed unsurprised to find me there.  “Smidge.  That’s what Alex calls you, isn’t it?”

I shook my head.  Even she was calling me by that name.

“No, It’s Sam.”

“Smidge sounds better.  What are you doing here?  Come to see the fight?”

“No.  Just looking around, plenty of history in this old building.”

“It’s just a dump.”

“Perhaps I should go.  I doubt Vince will want any witnesses.”

“You a friend of Alex?”

I thought we went to the same school, but perhaps I was wrong.  Maybe this was Nadia’s twin.  I was going to set her straight but remembered Vince was just downstairs, and after he dealt with Alex, maybe he’d want another hapless soul to beat up.

But as usual, my mouth got the better of me.

“You know as well as I do, I avoid both Alex, Vince, and you like the plague.  I’ve seen what happens to people who simply glance in your direction.”

“So Smidge has a backbone.  And not a friend of Alex, obviously.  Good to know.  Keep your nose clean and out of matters that don’t concern you.  Leave.  You were never here.”

She was right.  I was never there.

…

© Charles Heath 2019-2023

“Betrayal” – the penultimate final draft – Day 22

I’m sure I’ve been down this road more than once, and with the same novel, but whereas the last edit, which was probably the second or third, finished up in the pile, then forgotten.

I’m doing an active update to all my works in progress, and sending them to the editor, after going through the manuscript once again, with a view to publishing.  Hopefully, before the year is out.

…

I’m still working on two back chapters which might become three,

But…

I’ve been steadily working on chapters 24 through 29 which were dependent on the framework set up in the two back chapters.

It actually has made it easier to see where the story is going and make changes in both parts as I go along.

That now leaves me at Chapter 30, which is a major turning point for the story.

In the outline I had the two protagonists doing one thing, and now I’ve pulled the plug on them, and they are doing something else.

The problem was, to me, it was too predictable.

Still, now I’m at chapter 30, anything can happen.

Searching For Locations: Disneyland, Paris, France

Whilst I found this tree house to be interesting, it seems to be far from practical because there was little to keep the wind and rain out, though I suppose, in the book, that might not be such a problem.

Be that as it may, and if it was relatively waterproof, then the furnishings would probably survive, and one had to also assume that much of the furnishings, such as the writing desk below, would have washed up as debris from the shipwreck.

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The stove and oven would have to be built by hand, and it is ‘remarkable’ such well-fitting stones were available.  It doesn’t look like it’s been used for a while judging by the amount of gree on it.  Perhaps it is not in a waterproof area.

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The dining table and the shelf in the background have that rough-hewn look about them

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A bit of man-made equipment here for drawing water from the stream

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And though not made in the era of electricity, there is an opportunity to use the water wheel to do more than it appears to be doing

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And tucked away in a corner the all-important study where one can read, or play a little music on the organ.  One could say, for the period, one had all the comforts of home.

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It will be an interesting afternoon

We live in a country that has a unique sport, which is something a lot of countries can’t boast.

England has soccer and cricket, America has baseball and basketball, Canada has ice hockey, all sports that are played all over the world.

Australia has this strange game called Australian Rules Football, and it is true to say ask anyone anywhere else in the world about they would only look at you strangely and say “What?”

It would be true to say that this form of football is a religion, such is the devotion of the fans. It’s not unusual to hear of wanting to be buried in your favourite player’s guernsey. You pick a team, or generally, a team is picked for you, and it’s your team for life. You don’t desert them, and stick with them through the highs and lows, and sometimes the lows can be for a long time.

And like religion, there are such things as mixed marriages, each spouse will support a different team, and when these teams play each other, well, it’s best to be someone else after the final siren.

But, be that as it may…

We will soon reach the pinnacle of our season, the playing of the Grand Final in the home of AFL, the MCG, one of the largest stadiums in the country, holding over 100,000 fans, an ideal venue for this game.  Or perhaps COVID will play a role, and it will be moved to Perth.

And, although the game may not be the expected exciting and close spectacle we are hoping to see, at least all of the supporters of the winners will be deliriously happy. For the losers and their fans, there is no describing the depths of despair.

I know how that feels because I’ve been on both sides of the emotional spectrum.

Our team wasn’t playing this year so we were spared the emotional roller coaster, but we still watched the game, and no, we’ve never been to a grand final in person, and it’s unlikely we ever will.

But it’s a great way to spend an afternoon watching our team play on TV, have a pie, traditional fast food, chips, and a few bottles of beer.

And, now the football season is nearly over, we will switch to ice hockey and our adopted team, the Toronto Maple Leafs. Fortunately, their season starts when ours ends and vice versa.

Go leafs, go!!!

The cinema of my dreams – It continued in London – Episode 32

Alessandro is still reticent

…

He paused by the front counter to talk to the manager who was running the desk now. Perhaps realising trouble was about to erupt in her hotel, trouble a hotel of this sort didn’t need.

She got a key from the office she came out of earlier and accompanied us to the mezzanine floor, unlocked a door to what was a small conference room and ushered us in.  She didn’t follow us in but closed the door behind us.  I did notice that Alessandro had two security staff follow us at a discreet distance.

In the time it took to get from the restaurant to the conference room, he had time to compose himself, and no doubt working on a story that I might believe.

He sat and gestured for me to do the same.  I thought about standing, it would nominally give me an advantage over him, but decided against it.

He gave me a hard stare, then said, “You tell me you are only called when the situation is serious.  Who are you?  I don’t believe for a moment you are a Detective Inspector.  They do not confront foreign natials at their table in a restaurant.”

“Believe it or not I am.  From time to time.  Who I am is irrelevant.  What is, is the whereabouts of your sister-in-law.  You were at the hotel when she arrived back from the Opera.  A matter of hours later she disappears.  Why were you here to see your sister-in-law?”

“If I tell you that is none of your business?”

“Let me tell you what I know about your business.  Firstly, you are associating with a woman by the name of Vittoria, who is allegedly responsible for two attempts in the countess’s life.  Secondly, the terms of the Count’s will pass the who of his possessions to you if the countess does not arrive at the law offices to sign the official inheritance documents.  Thirdly, you are on record saying quite vehemently that the countess should not, and will not if you have anything to do with it, inherit the family business.  Fourthly, had Vittoria told you that she had a daughter to the Count, and was blackmailing him until he died, culminating in the last attempt on the countess’s life.  Allegedly.”

Always, it was interesting to watch the expressions and responses of people when telling there a story that has a mixture of truth, supposition, and outright lies.  Alessandro was no different.  He started the story expressionless and was most likely going to stay that way.

The first response was when I mentioned Vittoria, with a look that wasn’t complete contempt, but a very deep dislike, though that might be for me mentioning her name.  I purposely didn’t say he was dating her, just associating, and it might also be at the mention of her name.

“Vittoria is, by the way, in London at the moment, and she is a person of interest in my investigation.  We know you have seen her several times in the last few days, so I will be talking to her at some point.”

The second response came when I mentioned the will, and that look was of surprise, whether he thought anyone know of the provisions other than family would be interesting.

“Am I under surveillance?”

“When reviewing the CCTV tapes during the time we estimate the countess went missing, and only via the CCTV in the hotel, in case the disappearance of the countess is not part of a wider attack on the Bernhardt family.  I notice you have your own security outside.”

“I would prefer they not accompany me everywhere, but it is necessary.”

“The countess’s security detail?  Are they still in the hotel.”

“Gone, with the countess, which is why I don’t think there is anything to worry about.”

“And if she doesn’t make it to the signing in five days?”

“Do you have any reason to believe she will not.”

“You have motive, and you had opportunity.  In my book that’s enough for me to have you arrested until you tell us what we need to know.  It’s the old story, if you have nothing to hide, you’d answer the question.  Stalling, dodging, and obfuscation only indicate guilt.  So, I will ask one more time.  What were do doing here after she returned to the hotel on the night of the opera, and where is she now?”

Another withering look in my direction, and he stood.

“I do not have to answer your questions.  Now, if you don’t mind, I have work to do.”

He headed towards the door.

“Fine.  You will not be leaving the hotel, and I suggest you call your legal representative.”  /I pulled out my phone and pressed speed dial.  When one of the two men below answered, I said, “Pick him up.  You know where to take him.”

© Charles Heath 2023