Category: Mystery

An excerpt from “Sunday in New York”

Now available on Amazon at:  https://amzn.to/2H7ALs8

…

Williams’ Restaurant, East 65th Street, New York, Saturday, 8:00 p.m.

We met the Blaine’s at Williams’, a rather upmarket restaurant that the Blaine’s frequently visited, and had recommended.

Of course, during the taxi ride there, Alison reminded me that with my new job, we would be able to go to many more places like Williams’.  It was, at worst, more emotional blackmail, because as far as Alison was concerned, we were well on our way to posh restaurants, the Trump Tower Apartments, and the trappings of the ‘executive set’.

It would be a miracle if I didn’t strangle Elaine before the night was over.  It was she who had filled Alison’s head with all this stuff and nonsense.

Aside from the half frown half-smile, Alison was looking stunning.  It was months since she had last dressed up, and she was especially wearing the dress I’d bought her for our 5th anniversary that cost a month’s salary.  On her, it was worth it, and I would have paid more if I had to.  She had adored it, and me, for a week or so after.

For tonight, I think I was close to getting back on that pedestal.

She had the looks and figure to draw attention, the sort movie stars got on the red carpet, and when we walked into the restaurant, I swear there were at least five seconds silence, and many more gasps.

Even I had a sudden loss of breath earlier in the evening when she came out of the dressing room.  Once more I was reminded of how lucky I was that she had agreed to marry me.  Amid all those self-doubts, I couldn’t believe she had loved me when there were so many others ‘out there’ who were more appealing.

Elaine was out of her seat and came over just as the Head Waiter hovered into sight.  She personally escorted Alison to the table, allowing me to follow like the Queen’s consort, while she and Alison basked in the admiring glances of the other patrons.

More than once I heard the muted question, “Who is she?”

Jimmy stood, we shook hands, and then we sat together.  It was not the usual boy, girl, boy, girl seating arrangement.  Jimmy and I on one side and Elaine and Alison on the other.

The battle lines were drawn.

Jimmy was looking fashionable, with the permanent blade one beard, unkempt hair, and designer dinner suit that looked like he’d slept in it.  Alison insisted I wear a tuxedo, and I looked like the proverbial penguin or just a thinner version of Alfred Hitchcock.

The bow tie had been slightly crooked, but just before we stepped out she had straightened it.  And took the moment to look deeply into my soul.  It was one of those moments when words were not necessary.

Then it was gone.

I relived it briefly as I sat and she looked at me.  A penetrating look that told me to ‘behave’.

When we were settled, Elaine said, in that breathless, enthusiastic manner of hers when she was excited, “So, Harry, you are finally moving up.”  It was not a question, but a statement.

I was not sure what she meant by ‘finally’ but I accepted it with good grace.  Sometimes Elaine was prone to using figures of speech I didn’t understand.  I guessed she was talking about the new job.  “It was supposed to be a secret.”

She smiled widely.  “There are no secrets between Al and I, are there Al?”

I looked at ‘Al’ and saw a brief look of consternation.

I was not sure Alison liked the idea of being called Al.  I tried it once and was admonished.  But it was interesting her ‘best friend forever’ was allowed that distinction when I was not.  It was, perhaps, another indicator of how far I’d slipped in her estimation.

Perhaps, I thought, it was a necessary evil.  As I understood it, the Blaine’s were our mentors at the Trump Tower, because they didn’t just let ‘anyone’ in.  I didn’t ask if the Blaine’s thought we were just ‘anyone’ before I got the job offer.

And then there was that look between Alison and Elaine, quickly stolen before Alison realized I was looking at both of them.  I was out of my depth, in a place I didn’t belong, with people I didn’t understand.  And yet, apparently, Alison did.  I must have missed the memo.

“No,” Alison said softly, stealing a glance in my direction, “No secrets between friends.”

No secrets.  Her look conveyed something else entirely.

The waiter brought champagne, Krug, and poured glasses for each of us.  It was not the cheap stuff, and I was glad I brought a couple of thousand dollars with me.  We were going to need it.

Then, a toast.

To a new job and a new life.

“When did you decide?”  Elaine was effusive at the best of times, but with the champagne, it was worse.

Alison had a strange expression on her face.  It was obvious she had told Elaine it was a done deal, even before I’d made up my mind.  Perhaps she’d assumed I might be ‘refreshingly honest’ in front of Elaine, but it could also mean she didn’t really care what I might say or do.

Instead of consternation, she looked happy, and I realized it would be churlish, even silly if I made a scene.  I knew what I wanted to say.  I also knew that it would serve little purpose provoking Elaine, or upsetting Alison.  This was not the time or the place.  Alison had been looking forward to coming here, and I was not going to spoil it.

Instead, I said, smiling, “When I woke up this morning and found Alison missing.  If she had been there, I would not have noticed the water stain on the roof above our bed, and decide there and then how much I hated the place.” I used my reassuring smile, the one I used with the customers when all hell was breaking loose, and the forest fire was out of control.  “It’s the little things.  They all add up until one day …”  I shrugged.  “I guess that one day was today.”

I saw an incredulous look pass between Elaine and Alison, a non-verbal question; perhaps, is he for real?  Or; I told you he’d come around.

I had no idea the two were so close.

“How quaint,” Elaine said, which just about summed up her feelings towards me.  I think, at that moment, I lost some brownie points.  It was all I could come up with at short notice.

“Yes,” I added, with a little more emphasis than I wanted.  “Alison was off to get some study in with one of her friends.”

“Weren’t the two of you off to the Hamptons, a weekend with some friends?” Jimmy piped up, and immediately got the ‘shut up you fool’ look, that cut that line of conversation dead.  Someone forgot to feed Jimmy his lines.

It was followed by the condescending smile from Elaine, and “I need to powder my nose.  Care to join me, Al?”

A frown, then a forced smile for her new best friend.  “Yes.”

I watched them leave the table and head in the direction of the restroom, looking like they were in earnest conversation.  I thought ‘Al’ looked annoyed, but I could be wrong.

I had to say Jimmy looked more surprised than I did.

There was that odd moment of silence between us, Jimmy still smarting from his death stare, and for me, the Alison and Elaine show.  I was quite literally gob-smacked.

I drained my champagne glass gathering some courage and turned to him.  “By the way, we were going to have a weekend away, but this legal tutorial thing came up.  You know Alison is doing her law degree.”

He looked startled when he realized I had spoken.  He was looking intently at a woman several tables over from us, one who’d obviously forgotten some basic garments when getting dressed.  Or perhaps it was deliberate.  She’d definitely had some enhancements done.

He dragged his eyes back to me.  “Yes.  Elaine said something or other about it.  But I thought she said the tutor was out of town and it had been postponed until next week.  Perhaps I got it wrong.  I usually do.”

“Perhaps I’ve got it wrong.”  I shrugged, as the dark thoughts started swirling in my head again.  “This week or next, what does it matter?”

Of course, it mattered to me, and I digested what he said with a sinking heart.  It showed there was another problem between Alison and me; it was possible she was now telling me lies.  If what he said was true and I had no reason to doubt him, where was she going tomorrow morning, and had she really been with a friend studying today?

We poured some more champagne, had a drink, then he asked, “This promotion thing, what’s it worth?”

“Trouble, I suspect.  Definitely more money, but less time at home.”

“Oh,” raised eyebrows.  Obviously, the women had not talked about the job in front of him, or, at least, not all the details.  “You sure you want to do that?”

At last the voice of reason.  “Me?  No.”

“Yet you accepted the job.”

I sucked in a breath or two while I considered whether I could trust him.  Even if I couldn’t, I could see my ship was sinking, so it wouldn’t matter what I told him, or what Elaine might find out from him.  “Jimmy, between you and me I haven’t as yet decided one way or another.  To be honest, I won’t know until I go up to Barclay’s office and he asks me the question.”

“Barclay?”

“My boss.”

“Elaine’s doing a job for a Barclay that recently moved in the tower a block down from us.  I thought I recognized the name.”

“How did Elaine get the job?”

“Oh, Alison put him onto her.”

“When?”

“A couple of months ago.  Why?”

I shrugged and tried to keep a straight face, while my insides were churning up like the wake of a supertanker.  I felt sick, faint, and wanting to die all at the same moment.  “Perhaps she said something about it, but it didn’t connect at the time.  Too busy with work I expect.  I think I seriously need to get away for a while.”

I could hardly breathe, my throat was constricted and I knew I had to keep it together.  I could see Elaine and Alison coming back, so I had to calm down.  I sucked in some deep breaths, and put my ‘manage a complete and utter disaster’ look on my face.

And I had to change the subject, quickly, so I said, “Jimmy, Elaine told Alison, who told me, you were something of a guru of the cause and effects of the global economic meltdown.  Now, I have a couple of friends who have been expounding this theory …”

Like flicking a switch, I launched into the well-worn practice of ‘running a distraction’, like at work when we needed to keep the customer from discovering the truth.  It was one of the things I was good at, taking over a conversation and pushing it in a different direction.  It was salvaging a good result from an utter disaster, and if ever there was a time that it was required, it was right here, right now.

When Alison sat down and looked at me, she knew something had happened between Jimmy and I.  I might have looked pale or red-faced, or angry or disappointed, it didn’t matter.  If that didn’t seal the deal for her, the fact I took over the dining engagement did.  She knew well enough the only time I did that was when everything was about to go to hell in a handbasket.  She’d seen me in action before and had been suitably astonished.

But I got into gear, kept the champagne flowing and steered the conversation, as much as one could from a seasoned professional like Elaine, and, I think, in Jimmy’s eyes, he saw the battle lines and knew who took the crown on points.  Neither Elaine nor Jimmy suspected anything, and if the truth be told, I had improved my stocks with Elaine.  She was at times both surprised and interested, even willing to take a back seat.

Alison, on the other hand, tried poking around the edges, and, once when Elaine and Jimmy had got up to have a cigarette outside, questioned me directly.  I chose to ignore her, and pretend nothing had happened, instead of telling her how much I was enjoying the evening.

She had her ‘secrets’.  I had mine.

At the end of the evening, when I got up to go to the bathroom, I was physically sick from the pent up tension and the implications of what Jimmy had told me.  It took a while for me to pull myself together; so long, in fact, Jimmy came looking for me.  I told him I’d drunk too much champagne, and he seemed satisfied with that excuse.  When I returned, both Alison and Elaine noticed how pale I was but neither made any comment.

It was a sad way to end what was supposed to be a delightful evening, which to a large degree it was for the other three.  But I had achieved what I set out to do, and that was to play them at their own game, watching the deception, once I knew there was a deception, as warily as a cat watches its prey.

I had also discovered Jimmy’s real calling; a professor of economics at the same University Alison was doing her law degree.  It was no surprise in the end, on a night where surprises abounded, that the world could really be that small.

We parted in the early hours of the morning, a taxi whisking us back to the Lower East Side, another taking the Blaine’s back to the Upper West Side.  But, in our case, as Alison reminded me, it would not be for much longer.  She showed concern for my health, asked me what was wrong.  It took all the courage I could muster to tell her it was most likely something I ate and the champagne, and that I would be fine in the morning.

She could see quite plainly it was anything other than what I told her, but she didn’t pursue it.  Perhaps she just didn’t care what I was playing at.

And yet, after everything that had happened, once inside our ‘palace’, the events of the evening were discarded, like her clothing, and she again reminded me of what we had together in the early years before the problems had set in.

It left me confused and lost.

I couldn’t sleep because my mind had now gone down that irreversible path that told me I was losing her, that she had found someone else, and that our marriage was in its last death throes.

And now I knew it had something to do with Barclay.

© Charles Heath 2015-2020

Sunday In New York

A photograph from the inspirational bin – 39

This is what we saw driving along the Coquihalla Highway in Canada, a rather infamous stretch of road featured on the Discovery Channel, and yes, we saw a number of cars and trucks off the side of the road, and not in a good way

The road was iced over in place, and driving was difficult, but on the plus side the scenery was spectacular, and it was hard not to be distracted when driving.

But, inspiration for a story? It might go something like this:

…

Arty was adamant that he knew the best where man in the business.

That might gave been true if he was in the middle of the city where there were endless tests and turns that could be used to lost chasing police vehicles.

But that didn’t apply to the open road, and one that was think with ice and snow, even if it had recently been cleared.

But that wasn’t as bad as the fact that we had got free of the city, lost the pursuing cars, changed vehicles, and got away free.

All he had to fo was follow the road.

Except Arty had a temper, and getting stuck behind an old van going ever so slowly on the road, caused him to first blast them with horn, then start doing dangerous accelations up behind them, and then attempt to overtake on a bend in the road.

That might not have been so bad if there had not been an oncoming car, but there was.

Even that might not have been so bad if the car had not been a police vehicle.

But the real kicker: Arty lost control of the car and we went sailing off the edge of the road into a ravine, landing on soft ice which after a minute started cracking and then gave way.

The last place I wanted to be was to be sinking into a freezing cold river, but there we were, all frantically trying to get out.

Fortunately, I did, but not before I was soaking wet, and almost frozen. The rest didn’t make it.

The A to Z Challenge – 2023 — W is for “Wild Horse Mountain”

…

“And tell me again,” Will said, “just why are we out here at two in the morning?”

It was not lost on him that a minute or so before they had passed a sign proclaiming they had crossed into Wild Horse Mountain territory, and moments later, a sign with a horse on it.

It explained the empty horse box they’d brought along, and the earlier statement by his friend Chad, that he was planning to catch a brumby and break it.

Chad was full of good ideas like that, especially after a dozen drinks.

“We’re on an adventure, Billy boy.  Just roll with it.”

Last adventure I’d just rolled with saw us explaining to Sherriff Daley why we shouldn’t be locked up and the key thrown away.

“I’m trying, but seriously, you brought Charlene?”

Charlene was Chad’s latest girlfriend and the one, he said.  So were Fergie, and Donna, and, well, I forgot the last one; she had lasted almost a week.  But this one had lasted longer than the others, and I detected that same devil-may-care attitude in her.  I put that down to the fact she was the daughter of the town preacher.

“She wanted to see what we get up to.  The girl’s got an adventurous streak.  What can I say?”

No, for starters.  I doubt her family would be happily bailing her out of jail.  Maybe with her along he might show a bit more common sense.

He slowed, then turning at the slip road, stopped in front of a locked gate where there was a road leading into the forest, and a sign saying that only authorised personnel could pass.

“Is this private land?” I asked.

“Forest service.  Government land.  The sign’s there to keep the fools out.”  He held up a key.  “My uncle knows a man who knows a ranger who says so long as we don’t kill anything it’s fine.”

“And you’re thinking catching a wild horse is going to be easy?  I assume that’s what we’re here for?”

“I thought I explained that earlier.  How hard can it be?  I watched a video on YouTube and it’s easy.  We’ve both been on a cattle drive and passed with flying colours.  Just think of it as catching a bull, only a little larger, but no horns.”

I think trying to do that at night and in the dark might be slightly more complicated than he’s considered, and, as for having the skills necessary, back then there were a half dozen experienced cowboys there to back us up.

I shrugged; there was no changing his mind once it was made up.  “What’s the worst that could happen?” I muttered under my breath.

“Exactly.”  He handed me the key and I got out.

I looked back and could see Charlene acting a lot more animated than before, so maybe she was on board with this crazy scheme.

I unlocked the gate, opened it, waited until he drove through, and then closed and locked it behind me.

The discussion between Charlene and Chad was still going on when I got back in.  From the part I heard it seems she thought he was taking her to a secret lookout, not go brumby hunting, and him saying they could do both.  I got the impression she was not keen on catching a horse.

Whatever happened, it was going to be an interesting few hours.

Chad was the sort of person who when everything was going great and everyone was on board with his scheme, it was fine.  When the hiccups in the master plan started to happen, that’s when things start to fall apart.

After an hour’s slow crawl through the forest over a track that gave the pickup and following trailer a good workout, Charlene was losing interest.

So was I, but I’d learned not to express my sentiments.

“So,” she said, “where are these horses?”

“Here.  They’re everywhere, they’re always running all over the place.”

Except they were not.  Not tonight anyway.  And just then I remembered reading that the county administration had decided it was time to move the horses on so they could carve out a chunk of land for camping, hunting and fishing.  The conservationists were up in arms, the hunters were rubbing their hands in glee, and the campers were saying fools with guns were an accident waiting to happen.

A loud bank and what sounded like a gunshot hitting the side of the horse float was enough for Chad to stop, douse the lights and kill the engine.  I disabled the lights that went on when the doors opened.

Suddenly it was dead silent.  I was sure I could hear my heart beating.

Then, the silence was broken by another shot, so loud we all jumped.

I was first out of the pickup, just in case they were shooting at us.  That prompted, in the next breath, who was shooting at us, and why?

Chad and Charlene came around to join me.

“What the hell just happened?”  Chad asked.

“Gunshots.  Perhaps the hunters have decided not to wait until they got county approval.  We’ll have to tell the sheriff, get on his good side.  We just need to find out who they are.”

No need.  A minute or so later there was yelling carried on the night air.

“What the hell are you doing.  The boss said no advertising our presence.”

“I saw a car.”

“It’s the main track and there’s going to be cars.  Get back to the camp, and you want to hope whoever you shot at doesn’t call the sheriff.”

I looked at Chad.  “We’ll wait a few minutes then get moving again.”

“What’s going on?”  A visibly shaken Charlene wasn’t too happy about what had just happened. 

I could have told her that a night out with Chad provided enough excitement for a week.  Things always seemed to happen around him.

“Hunting season started early,” Chad said.

“We’re not going to get shot are we?”

“No.”  Chad sounded positive, but there was no way we could know what those people were doing.

I got up and checked the horse float for bullet holes and instead saw a scrape along the side made by an overhanging branch.  There was no sign of a bullet hole, but it didn’t explain the loud bang we all heard.

When I came back, I said, “Let’s get out of here.”

Another half hour passed in silence until we came out of the forest into a clearing that was visible in the twilight, a cloudless sky and full moon giving the whole area a strange eerie feeling.

Chad drove on the track that skirted the open area and stopped by a dilapidated hut.  Lights off and engine off, once out of the car the silence was rather strange to a person who lived in the city where there was constant noise.

Chad had a rough hand-drawn map he got from a friend of a friend, that looked a lot like the clearing with a hut exactly where we had stopped.  It was as much of it as I remembered until she spread it out over the bonnet of the car.

He then switched on the light of his phone.

We gathered around like conspirators.

“We’re here.”  He pointed to the X that marked the hut.  His finger then followed the track around further to a point where a lake bordered the clearing, with another X.  “A watering hole for the wildlife, and quite often where the horses come.  This whole clearing is where they gather.”

Gather they might, but not tonight.  It was light enough to see the edges of the clearing, the forest beyond, and the shimmering surface of the lake in the distance.  It was enough to see nothing was stirring.

“Perhaps,” Charlene said, “they knew we were coming.”  There was no mistaking the sardonic tone. 

Maybe she had already been on one of his wild goose chases.  This wasn’t my first rodeo.

The silence was broken by the sound of a horse, coming from the direction of the lake.

“Maybe not.”

We turned to look, and the first thing I saw was a horse, yes, but there was a rider on it.  Followed by another, and another, until at least ten came out of the forest and into the open.

Nightriders?

“What the hell…” I heard Charlene mutter.

Perhaps against a dark background, they hadn’t seen us.  Or they had and were ignoring us.  They stopped for what looked like a short drink break then continued to follow what must have been a path across the shoreline of the lake, and within a few minutes had disappeared into the forest.

“Local tourist adventure rides up to the lookout at night where they look at the stars,” Chad said.

“And you know this…”  Charlene sounded like she would have preferred that to what Chad was taking us on now.

So would I, if I had a choice.

“Is the lookout accessible by car?” I asked, now getting the feeling it wasn’t.

“A 4×4 maybe, but the most direct route and easiest is by horse.  But we’re not here to look at the stars.  I’m going down to the lake.  You two?”

“I’m staying here,” Charles said, shivering. 

I could tell she wanted to go home but was too afraid to say anything.  And by her body language, I didn’t think this relationship between her and Chad was going to last much longer.

“Then stay with her Mike.  I won’t be long.”

With that, he headed off towards the lake.

“He’s stark staring mad,” she said when he was out of earshot.

“Chad had some crazy ideas sometimes, but his heart is in the right place.  At least with him, what you see is what you get?”

“You think?  What’s your excuse?”

“Being here?  He’s helped me get through some rough times.  My parents were killed in an accident when I was 13.  He convinced his parents I should stay with them because otherwise I’d finish up in the foster care system, and they did.  I guess I’m the little brother he never had.  What about you?”

“Sad story, I needed someone to teach me to line dance.  He made it fun.  This isn’t.”

“Why’d you agree to come?”

“I thought we were going to the lookout, at least that’s how he sold it.  Not catching horses.  Can he even ride a horse?”

“His uncle has a ranch with cattle.  We’ve been going there mustering every year for what seems like a lifetime.”

“He asked me to go with him this year.”

“Then do.  I could do with a break, go to the city, see what I’m not missing.”

The surrounding silence closed in on us as the conversation dries up.  Talking to girls was not my forte.

“He’s taking a long time,” Charlene said about ten minutes later.

It mirrored my own thought.  How long could it take to walk to the water’s edge, see there was nothing to be found, and come back.

A loud bang, like the sound of a rifle, punctured the stillness.

“Was that…?” She said.

“A gunshot?  Sounded like it.” 

I went over to the back of the car and pulled out the rifle Chad carried with him, hidden under the seat.  It surprised me the first time I discovered he travelled around with a gun.  It wasn’t loaded, but it didn’t take long to load.  I put some extra bullets in my pocket, just in case.

“You coming?” I asked.  If anything happened to her, I knew Chad would be angry.  “If someone is out there shooting people, it’s not s good idea to be here alone.”

She didn’t need to be asked twice.

“You know how to use that?”

“Unfortunately, yes.  Coyotes.”

We both stayed on the track skirting the open space, just to make it harder for anyone likely to be aiming at us until we reached the knoll above the lake.  It was the one place where, if there was a shooter. we would be most vulnerable.  Neither of us stayed there for longer than a second, perhaps two, before heading down the 50 yards to the water’s edge.  A quick scan showed no sign of Chad.

At the water’s edge, she said, “Where is he?  If this is one of his games, then I don’t like it.”

I knew Chad, and I also knew he was capable of pulling a stunt like this.  If he was, I was going to be very annoyed.

Facing the knoll, I heard a soft splashing sound behind me and turned.

Chad.

He was not more than 20 yards out in the water, face down.

“Damn.”

I dropped the rifle and headed into the water, swimming the last few yards, but I knew, the moment I reached him, he was dead.  The hole in the side of his head was unmistakable.  I brought him back to the shore and dragged him above the water line, then checked for a pulse.

Nothing.

Then I realised Charlene was not there, where I’d left her, but further along the beach.  She had picked up the rifle, and by the way she was carrying it, she knew how to use it.  Had she heard something?

Behind her, one of the horsemen arrived with a riderless horse and stopped next to her.

“What’s going on?”  I asked.  I was hoping it wasn’t what it looked like.

“This has nothing to do with you, Mike.  Justice has been served.”

Justice?  What justice?  What had Chad done to deserve a death like this?

“Amy Potterdam.  Just because you own the law in this County doesn’t mean you can get away with murder.”

Amy Potterdam?  All I could remember about that was a girl had died in unusual circumstances at a party he had attended, if only briefly.  Someone had claimed that he had given the girl the spiked drink that eventually killed her, but witnesses and evidence had proven otherwise.  The fact his father was the County Sherriff had no bearing.

I watched her climb up on the horse and take the reins.  I stood and started walking towards her.  “This is wrong.”

“Don’t come any closer, or I will shoot you.”

I didn’t stop.  I didn’t know what I was going to do, or if there was anything I could do.  I just knew I had to try.

They say you don’t hear the bullet that has your name on it.

They’re wrong.

…

©  Charles Heath  2023

The cinema of my dreams – I always wanted to see the planets – Episode 21

There’s no swashbuckling for the captain

…

I turned, and saw what appeared to be a relatively unkempt man standing behind me.

Jerome Kennedy. Astro physicist.  A man who was mocked rather than revered for his theories on space, and in particular, space travel.

And those theories were, to put it mildly, interesting.

It was probably why the Admiral conscripted him for this voyage into the unknown.

“I though that was only in the imagination of television script writers.”

“Possibly, but we just witnessed something that none of us can rationally explain.  One minute they were there, the next, poof.”

“That’s why you are along for the ride, to find explanations for the unexplainable.  I look forward to your report.”  Then, turning back to the navigator, “are we still in touch with the original alien vessel?”

“Just, and still heading towards Uranus.”

“Then let’s get after it, maximum speed when possible.”

I left the newly promoted number one in charge and went into the captains day room.  I was still getting used to the idea of actually bring captain, because the aura of previous inhabitant of this room was still there.  And it felt like he was in the room watching everything I did.

I shook my head, as if that would cast off the jitters I felt, and sat down behind the imposing desk, one thathad been made over a hundred years before, and from a vessel with the same name. 

I still didn’t have a lot to put in any report to the Admiral, but had a lot to think about.

I brought up the navigation screen and looked at the suggested path from where we were to Uranus, and the time it would take.

There was a buzzing sound, and a face appeared on my screen.  It was the Captain’s personal assistant for want of a better name, Louise Chalmers, an ex Lieutenant Colonel from the military, but not by much.  She had retired into this position, and, I suspect, another was for the military to keep up to date on the Captain’s decisions.

“Come in.”

The door opened, she came in, and it closed behind her.  There was no open door policy on this ship.

“Sir.”

“What can I do for you?”

“I’m not sure if you are aware, but I am here to serve whomever the current Captain is, and since Captain V is not here, that would be you in his stead.”

I had read that she was his choice for P A, and that it was a personal matter, as usually Captains didn’t have such staff members.

“I thought you were on board to serve only the previous captain “

“Not so.  If you read standing order 207615, you will realise my position was ratified as general crew member, serving the ship rather than an individual.  My job is to make your job easier.”

While she was speaking, I fetched the standing orders, and the one she referred, and a quick scan proved such to be the case.

“In what way?”

“Paperwork, the vane of any officers existence I’m told, and to organise all activities of a non urgent nature, like bring the daily reports to you.”

I knew that captain had to be appraised of everything that happened on board, just not every day.

“I take it you have the reports?”

“I have, and unfortunately, as per regulations, I have to make sure you have received them.  Your predecessor wanted me to summarise.  I can do the same for you.”

There would be no escaping it.  “Please.”

…

© Charles Heath 2021

An excerpt from “Echoes from the Past”

Available on Amazon Kindle here:  https://amzn.to/2CYKxu4

…

With my attention elsewhere, I walked into a man who was hurrying in the opposite direction.  He was a big man with a scar running down the left side of his face from eye socket to mouth, and who was also wearing a black shirt with a red tie.

That was all I remembered as my heart almost stopped.

He apologized as he stepped to one side, the same way I stepped, as I also muttered an apology.

I kept my eyes down.  He was not the sort of man I wanted to recognize later in a lineup.  I stepped to the other side and so did he.  It was one of those situations.  Finally getting out of sync, he kept going in his direction, and I towards the bus, which was now pulling away from the curb.

Getting my breath back, I just stood riveted to the spot watching it join the traffic.  I looked back over my shoulder, but the man I’d run into had gone.  I shrugged and looked at my watch.  It would be a few minutes before the next bus arrived.

Wait, or walk?  I could also go by subway, but it was a long walk to the station.  What the hell, I needed the exercise.

At the first intersection, the ‘Walk’ sign had just flashed to ‘Don’t Walk’.  I thought I’d save a few minutes by not waiting for the next green light.  As I stepped onto the road, I heard the screeching of tires.

A yellow car stopped inches from me.

It was a high powered sports car, perhaps a Lamborghini.  I knew what they looked like because Marcus Bartleby owned one, as did every other junior executive in the city with a rich father.

Everyone stopped to look at me, then the car.  It was that sort of car.  I could see the driver through the windscreen shaking his fist, and I could see he was yelling too, but I couldn’t hear him.  I stepped back onto the sidewalk, and he drove on.  The moment had passed and everyone went back to their business.

My heart rate hadn’t come down from the last encounter.   Now it was approaching cardiac arrest, so I took a few minutes and several sets of lights to regain composure.

At the next intersection, I waited for the green light, and then a few seconds more, just to be sure.  I was no longer in a hurry.

At the next, I heard what sounded like a gunshot.  A few people looked around, worried expressions on their faces, but when it happened again, I saw it was an old car backfiring.  I also saw another yellow car, much the same as the one before, stopped on the side of the road.  I thought nothing of it, other than it was the second yellow car I’d seen.

At the next intersection, I realized I was subconsciously heading towards Harry’s new bar.   It was somewhere on 6th Avenue, so I continued walking in what I thought was the right direction.

I don’t know why I looked behind me at the next intersection, but I did.  There was another yellow car on the side of the road, not far from me.  It, too, looked the same as the original Lamborghini, and I was starting to think it was not a coincidence.

Moments after crossing the road, I heard the roar of a sports car engine and saw the yellow car accelerate past me.  As it passed by, I saw there were two people in it, and the blurry image of the passenger; a large man with a red tie.

Now my imagination was playing tricks.

It could not be the same man.  He was going in a different direction.

In the few minutes I’d been standing on the pavement, it had started to snow; early for this time of year, and marking the start of what could be a long cold winter.  I shuddered, and it was not necessarily because of the temperature.

I looked up and saw a neon light advertising a bar, coincidentally the one Harry had ‘found’ and, looking once in the direction of the departing yellow car, I decided to go in.  I would have a few drinks and then leave by the back door if it had one.

Just in case.

© Charles Heath 2015-2020

newechocover5rs

Motive, means, and opportunity – Means

I’m working on a novella which may boringly be called “Motive, Means and Opportunity” where I will present a chunk of information from which you if you want to, can become the armchair detective.

Here’s the second part, the so-called Means

Everyone knew I had a gun.  It was locked away in a safe that was not in an obvious position in the dressing room at home.

Several years ago our neighbourhood had been subjected to several breaking and several people had been injured, prompting the rest of us to seriously consider getting protection.

I got a Glock 19, 9 mm along with several of my neighbours and then both Wendy and I got lessons so we knew how to use it properly, and avoid shooting either each other or in our feet.

The thing is, there had only been that one round of breaking, and since the gun was put away on the safe about eighteen months ago, it had not seen the light of day since.

Or so I thought.

When asked to check if it was still there, it wasn’t, much to my surprise.

Equally, to my surprise, the bullet that killed James Burgman was a nine millimetre.  Was that a coincidence, I didn’t think so.

© Charles Heath 2019-2023

Betwixt metaphorical houses

It’s like working in two offices, one uptown, and one downtown.

I have two blogs, this one, and another which is purely for writing, and generally, a lot of starts and not a lot of finishes. I get ideas, and it’s a place to store them, and give a few people some amusement at my, sometimes, improbable situations and far-fetched stories.

Here I try to be more serious.

I have the ceiling, the cinema of my dreams. Here anything is possible, like jumping from a helicopter about to explode, and survive, and get out of a sinking ship, like Houdini. Of course, there is always one time when it doesn’t work, and Houdini knows that all too well.

Over there, I have a series which I started here, long ago, where I take a photograph and write a story inspired by it. The interesting thing about that is I could probably use the same photograph over and over, and it would inspire a different tale.

I know, if I was running a writing class, everyone would see that photograph differently.

But what amazes me sometimes is the fact the story is not directly related to the theme. It got me thinking about how we view our experiences, and what triggers memories. I’ve discovered that it doesn’t necessarily happen by correlation, say, for instance, a memory of being in New York might be triggered by a visit to a cafe in Cloncurry.

I try to do one of these every day, but sometimes it’s hard work. Writing itself can be some days, particularly when the words are lurking there, behind that invisible, impenetrable, rock wall.

OK, so I’m stuck in the middle of writing a piece over there, and I’ve come over here to whinge.

But, enough. I’ll let you know what the cinema of my dreams is showing, later.

‘What Sets Us Apart’ – A beta readers view

There’s something to be said for a story that starts like a James Bond movie, throwing you straight in the deep end, a perfect way of getting to know the main character, David, or is that Alistair?

A retired spy, well not so much a spy as a retired errand boy, David’s rather wry description of his talents, and a woman that most men would give their left arm for, not exactly the ideal couple, but there is a spark in a meeting that may or may not have been a setup.

But as the story progressed, the question I kept asking myself was why he’d bother.

And, page after unrelenting page, you find out.

Susan is exactly the sort of woman that piqued his interest. Then, inexplicably, she disappears. That might have been the end to it, but Prendergast, that shadowy enigma, David’s ex-boss who loves playing games with real people, gives him an ultimatum, find her or come back to work.

Nothing like an offer that’s a double-edged sword!

A dragon for a mother, a sister he didn’t know about, Susan’s BFF who is not what she seems or a friend indeed, and Susan’s father who, up till David meets her, couldn’t be less interested, his nemesis proves to be the impossible dream, and he’s always just that one step behind.

When the rollercoaster finally came to a halt, and I could start breathing again, it was an ending that was completely unexpected.

I’ve been told there’s a sequel in the works.

Bring it on!

…

The book can be purchased here: http://amzn.to/2Eryfth

…

The A to Z Challenge – 2023 — X is for Xenolith

…

Every year we bowed to the absurdity that Edward John Berkely bestowed upon us for that one week we all agreed to, somewhere back in the mists of time, for reasons now, no one could remember.

It took the form of Edward’s version of the Amazing Race, with 25 clues that took us to places we’d generally never been to before, each of us starting from our home city, and ending up in the same destination, the Empire State Building.

It was always that week beginning the first Saturday in December, and ran for a week, each day ending up in a particular hotel where the numbered clues for the next day would be delivered.  The first day’s clues were delivered by email and told us when to start.

We also had a burner phone, delivered before the start, used to track each team, mostly so that we did not cheat.  No one ever had, but perhaps that was due to having the phone.  It was the only means of communication with Edward, along the way, in case of problems.

Elaborate, yes.  Exciting, yes, in the beginning.

Last year, I had suffered a series of misfortunes and failed to finish, the first time, and I had told Edward I was no longer interested.  So soon after the death of my wife, I didn’t want to go, but he cajoled me into it.

This year, when he sent the email to ask if I was participating, I told him I wasn’t.  Without Jane, who loved the challenge of it more than I did, it seemed pointless, and when I didn’t hear back, I assumed my name had been struck off the list, and gave it no more thought.

As time passed life began to assume a form of normality.  It might have taken less time if we had children, but that was not possible, and we accepted it.  By myself in a big empty house, it took a while to realise all it did was shackle me to the past, and I had to move on.

There was nothing to keep where I was, our friends were great when there were the two of us, but not so much after she had passed.  They came, gave their condolences, and then slowly stopped coming.  They were mostly Jane’s friends, and I learned later, didn’t like her choice of husband, but tolerated me for the sake of her happiness.

On the other side of the country, I knew I could lose myself in a city as large as New York, and never run into anyone I’d known.  I was happy to be by myself.  At conferences, the six I attended around the country each year, they were people I knew and liked Jane, but she was not one of us.  When she passed, that first conference was difficult.

Now, I was the one without a plus one, and had settled back into a bachelor’s existence, and, no, I was not interested in finding a replacement for Jane.

Of course, what we tell ourselves and what happens, in reality, are two entirely different things, particularly when a random chance meeting with an old friend I’d not seen for 20 years came out of that proverbial left field.

Mary-Anne Dawkins.  Or at least that was the last name I knew her by.

The girl next door, the girl I grew up with, the girl I went through grade school, elementary school, and later, for a time, college.  We never dated, it never got to that, but we were inseparable, always had each other’s back, and it had been a sad day when her parents decided to return home and took her and her brother with them.

That day broke my heart, for reasons, then I could not explain.  Much later I realised she had been the love of my life, and the one that got away.  And with the passing of time, I had almost forgotten her.

I saw her standing at the reception desk of the hotel I was staying for the latest conference when I returned to change for the dinner being held on the last day. 

At least I thought it was her. When I stood beside her, and she turned to look in my direction, she simply smiled and ignored me.  It was her smile, the one that reminded me of the cat who ate the canary.  There were three attributes, the smile, the wavy hair, and the infectious giggle.  All three were present in that girl beside me, an older version. But exactly how I would have expected her to age.

“Mary Anne Dawkins,” I said when she turned to go to her room.

She stopped.  “Yes, once.  It’s now Mary Anne Thomas.  Do I know you?”

Interesting that she would not remember me.  “My name is Gary Johnson.  We used to be friends back in Saratoga.”

“Exactly when?”

I explained the relationship we had for over a dozen years, and that still didn’t register.

When she saw my puzzled expression she said, “Oh, sorry.  I was in an accident about a year back, a bad one as it happens, and lost most of my memories before it happened.  Basically, I was lying in the hospital with absolutely no idea who I was, where I came from, or what I did.  You have no idea how scary that can be.  Anyway, one of my friends recognised the photo in the paper and came to rescue me.  If you were who you say you are, then if I had those memories, I would remember you, but, I’m sorry, I do not.”

And her point was, this would probably look like I was trying to hook up.

I shrugged.  “Then I’m sorry to hear about what happened and will leave you in peace.  It was nice to see you again, anyway, Mary Anne.”

Over the next hour or so I pondered the plight of people who lost their memories and what it must be like, waking up one morning and not knowing who you were.

Some people might be thankful given their circumstances.  It only highlighted the fact my memories were intact, and sometimes I wished they weren’t because of how painful some were.  My life had too many moments that inspired grief rather than rejoicing and seeing Mary Anne again had dragged a lot back to the surface.

Enough to make it impossible to go to the post-conference dinner.  Feeling as miserable as I did then, I would not make good company.

Instead, I went down to the hotel restaurant and asked for a table in a corner and was going to have dinner on my own.

I was on my third drink when a familiar face appeared at the restaurant doorway, scanning the tables.  Mary Anne.  Was she looking for someone?

Our eyes met and moved on, but in a single moment, I felt a spark of regret.

A few minutes later a waiter came and asked me if she could join me for dinner, the restaurant was full, and she had not made a booking.

I shrugged.  Why not?  It would be like dining with a total stranger, which could be interesting, or just plain sad.

“Thank you for this.  I was supposed to be dining with someone else, but they had to cancel.  I didn’t fancy going elsewhere, and thought, well, you might tell me a little about myself.”

“Are you sure you’d want to do that?  I would think it might be better to leave the old you behind and embrace the new you.”

She settled in the chair and ordered a drink.  Those few minutes gave me time to glance at the older version of Mary Anne, and my mental vision of her didn’t match the physical version sitting opposite.  She looked, to me, very sad.

“Someone else told me that, and I remember at the time, it might have had something to so with my past, something very bad.  I wake up some mornings very frightened and have these bad dreams from time to time.  The doctor said it might be just a result of the accident, but some of them are quite real.”

Perhaps that was what was driving the sadness.  “I only knew you when you were a child, from grade school to the start of college.  Without that friendship, I don’t think I might have achieved what I have over time.”

“Were we more than just friends, weren’t we?  I feel that it might have been more.  Another result of the accident is that I can sense things from people.  The tenor of your voice conveys a depth of feeling.  It also tells me you recently suffered a terrible loss.  A wife?”

Or she could just see right through me.  I’d never really recovered from losing Jane, and yes, being with her now, those feelings had resurfaced.

“My wife died about a year ago, and with you, I always suspected my feelings were one-sided.  I never expressed them, and by the time I realised what they were, you were gone.  A regret, yes, but we all learn to live with regrets and mistakes.”

It was a convenient moment for the waiter to arrive and take our order.  I needed the time to reshelve those memories and change the subject.

“It has to be a monumental coincidence our being here at the same time.  I’m at a law enforcement conference.  You?”

It seemed odd saying it, law enforcement because it was not exactly true.  I was not in a police or sheriff’s department, but something else.  I just used the anonymous cover of working for the NYPD as a cover.  I had once, earlier on, and people usually accepted it.

“I’m looking for a Xenolith”

She saw the curious expression on my face, and added, “A rock, a large rock.”

Inevitably I had to ask, “Why?  Are you a geologist?”

“No.  A travel guide of sorts.  I work for a company that finds unusual things for travellers to do, or at the moment, elements of a tour that is like the Amazing Race.  We have a client who does it once a year for his friends.”

“Edward Berkeley”

Her turn to be surprised.  “You know him?”

“An old friend from school days.”  And then it occurred to me, she would have known him had she had her memories, because we all used to hang out together, and another memory resurfaced, the fact he fancied her, and then a pang of jealousy, she fancied him.

This was too much of a coincidence.  “Have you met him?”

“No.  I was out of the office a few months back when he brought the list of places for us to look for.  Oh, I see, would he have recognised me?”

“He did have a thing for you.  I’ll be honest I was a little jealous, but his parents were very rich and I couldn’t compete.”

“One thing I remember is when they told me had come to the office just to see me, I got a very bad vibe.  Conversely, here with you, it does seem familiar, and don’t get me wrong or write anything into it, I feel, for the first time, safe.  It’s a very odd feeling to have, but perhaps it comes from our time together.  I don’t know.”

Food was served, it was time to leave that and change the subject.  I could see a change in her, one of confusion.  I didn’t want to be the one that might bring back memories that had been taken from her for a reason.

It was something I’d read about once when dealing with head trauma, and bad things that happened to people.  The mind, given an opportunity, just simply shut them out to protect.

Waiting for the next course, a bottle of wine was ordered and served, and the conversation moved on.

“What do you do in law enforcement?”

“Research.  You know, you watch the TV shows and there’s this guy or girl behind a computer reeling off stuff relevant to the case.  It doesn’t quite work like that, it’s sometimes a lot more difficult, but it’s more or less the job.”

“That’s why you’re here?”

“I was asked to come and lead a session on the more obscure sources of information.  Sometimes I think when I retire, I will be able to do family trees with my eyes closed.  I researched mine, going all the way back to the people who came over from England.”

“Oh.”

The main course arrived, and it seemed to have an effect on her because she closed her eyes, put her hands on her forehead, and said, “Oh, no.  Oh, God no, no, no…”

And then passed out.

It was three days before she woke.

I had tried to find if there was any significant person in her life that should know what happened but found nothing on her, nor in her room.  Other than her name on the booking form, the fact she had paid herself, she had paid cash and had no credit cards or driver’s licence, or any documentation to verify who she was.

I knew her as Mary Anne Dawkins and tried to trace her that way, but her identity disappeared after she left my hometown.  No Mary Ann Dawkins from there could be traced, nor her parents.

It was like she had appeared out of thin air.

With no one else available, and with the permission of the local police force, I stayed with her, and would until she woke when we could get answers to the mystery.

It was a relief when she opened her eyes.  Those first few seconds when there would be disorientation, showed through the surprise, then fear in her expression.  Then she saw me, and I wanted to believe it was a smile, but it might have been something else.  I was holding her hand at the time.

“Gary, Gary Johnson, of Saratoga, yes?  I know you, don’t I.”

“The same.”  OK, what just happened?  The girl I’d seen before didn’t have a clue who I was.  Could that have been an act?  If it was it was very convincing.

“What are you doing here?  Where am I. by the way?  A hospital, yes.  I had an accident though I don’t remember anything of it.  T-boned in a taxi on the way to the airport?  Hey, I was coming to see you…”

“Whoa.”  This was getting freakish.  Had she just come out of the fog left behind by the accident, and time had stood still for, what, a year?  I asked her, “What day is it?”

“October 7th, 2021.”

“Actually, it’s March 23rd 2023.”

“Oh my God.  What the hell?  Have I been in a coma all this time?  How is it possible to lose that much time?”

At that point, the doctor and nursing staff came in and took command of her, and I was relegated to the passage, on the outside looking in.  I watched her go through a dozen different states of mind and the gamut of emotions until finally, she had settled, and I was allowed back.

I just sat down when she reached out and grabbed my hand and held it tightly.

“You have to do something for me.  It might sound very weird, but believe me, it’s very important because if you don’t, he might succeed in finishing what he started out, killing me.”

“Who?”

“James Fordsburg.  You would remember the Fordsburg case; the family were funnelling finds into a private army with the intention of staging a coup and taking over the country.  They had property in remote places that were discovered to be training camps, munition dumps, an airport with fighter planes.”

I remembered it.  The closest we ever came to civil war again.

“The reason why we left in a hurry.  My father worked for the Fordsburgs.  He found out what was going on and became a whistleblower.  The case never made it to court, the Fordsburgs killed themselves, along with the top military people.  What you and everyone else didn’t know was the was a junior Fordsburg, but he did use that name, he used his maternal family name, Berkeley, and his name, Edward Berkeley.

“He never stopped searching.  He killed my father, mother and brother, even if the police still say it was an accident, and he’s never stopped looking for me.  I then got the idea if I found you, you would know what to do and tracked you down.  I spoke to Jane.  When I explained who I was, she said she would tell you.  Anyway, a year ago, he found me, and I just managed to get away, get a car, and come to see you.  I was on my way to the airport, and here I am 18 months later, the message finally delivered.”

It was an amazing tale.  If it was true, then Fordsburg the younger would be on the wanted list.  That Edward was this Fordsburg, that was a little harder to come to terms with.

“OK.  You know I have to check the facts, and that means leaving you here, but I will arrange for protection.”

I heard the door to the room close behind me, and a voice say, “That won’t be necessary, Gary.  I can take it from here.”

I heard Mary Anne gasp.  I turned around and saw Edward in a county Sherriff’s uniform.

“I don’t know what tales she’s been telling you, Gary, but all of it is in her imagination.”

“So you’re not a Fordsburg?”

“Me?  No.  You know who I am, Garry.  The middle of the road, invisible guy, with rich parents that made my life miserable.”

“I’m not made,” Mary Anne said.  “He’s dangerous, and we will not leave this room alive.”

I was inclined to agree with her.  He was behaving oddly, like he was strung out, and trying to keep a lid on it.  That made him highly unpredictable.

I stood and turned to face him.

“Be careful Garry.  No sudden moves.  I hope you’re not buying into this tissue of lies.” 

No, but I was playing for time.  The fact he was in the room meant he had got rid of the guard at the door.  It was possible the doctor might come back, and equally possible he might be momentarily distracted.

As I was thinking that he had drawn his weapon, I had to assume the safety was off.

“No need for guns, Ed.  I’m not a threat.  Nor is Mary Anne.  Not if what you say is true.”

The next thing that happened was a loud clanging sound which was the distraction I needed, but it didn’t quite turn out the way I expected.  Yes, I got to him, yes, I partially neutralised the gun, and yes, in the scuffle that followed the weapon discharged.

Twice.

And that was all I remember.

…

© Charles Heath  2023

A photograph from the inspirational bin – 39

This is what we saw driving along the Coquihalla Highway in Canada, a rather infamous stretch of road featured on the Discovery Channel, and yes, we saw a number of cars and trucks off the side of the road, and not in a good way

The road was iced over in place, and driving was difficult, but on the plus side the scenery was spectacular, and it was hard not to be distracted when driving.

But, inspiration for a story? It might go something like this:

…

Arty was adamant that he knew the best where man in the business.

That might gave been true if he was in the middle of the city where there were endless tests and turns that could be used to lost chasing police vehicles.

But that didn’t apply to the open road, and one that was think with ice and snow, even if it had recently been cleared.

But that wasn’t as bad as the fact that we had got free of the city, lost the pursuing cars, changed vehicles, and got away free.

All he had to fo was follow the road.

Except Arty had a temper, and getting stuck behind an old van going ever so slowly on the road, caused him to first blast them with horn, then start doing dangerous accelations up behind them, and then attempt to overtake on a bend in the road.

That might not have been so bad if there had not been an oncoming car, but there was.

Even that might not have been so bad if the car had not been a police vehicle.

But the real kicker: Arty lost control of the car and we went sailing off the edge of the road into a ravine, landing on soft ice which after a minute started cracking and then gave way.

The last place I wanted to be was to be sinking into a freezing cold river, but there we were, all frantically trying to get out.

Fortunately, I did, but not before I was soaking wet, and almost frozen. The rest didn’t make it.