Category: Mystery

First Dig Two Graves – the editor’s final draft – Day 7

This book has been sitting in the ‘to-be-done’ tray, so this month it is going to get the final revision.

…

With Zoe gone and not looking like she will be coming back, John has to get back into the mainstream of life.

Or he could do something a little more positive, try and find Zoe and seek out her intentions. To that end, he comes up with an idea, phone an old friend, Rupert, who once had aspirations of being a private investigator, and employ him to find her.

But, as he quickly remembers, Rupert has a sister named Isobel who hates him, and despite her, John hires them, though when Rupert learns he’s looking for a Russian/Chinese assassin, he has momentary second thoughts.

Money always speaks the right language.

But, lurking in the background, Sebastian now had a tail on John, almost knowing that he was never going to take his advice and leave Zoe alone.

And, like John, he knew of Rupert, and his sister, yet another of Sebastian’s once upon a time hot dates that failed, and of her situation, which means he was about to kill two birds with one stone.

Find out what John was up to.

Isobel is about to liven their lives up considerably.

…

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

Inspiration, maybe – Volume 1

50 photographs, 50 stories, of which there is one of the 50 below.

They all start with –

A picture paints … well, as many words as you like.  For instance:

lookingdownfromcoronetpeak

And the story:

It was once said that a desperate man has everything to lose.

The man I was chasing was desperate, but I, on the other hand, was more desperate to catch him.

He’d left a trail of dead people from one end of the island to the other.

The team had put in a lot of effort to locate him, and now his capture was imminent.  We were following the car he was in, from a discrete distance, and, at the appropriate time, we would catch up, pull him over, and make the arrest.

There was nowhere for him to go.

The road led to a dead-end, and the only way off the mountain was back down the road were now on.  Which was why I was somewhat surprised when we discovered where he was.

Where was he going?

“Damn,” I heard Alan mutter.  He was driving, being careful not to get too close, but not far enough away to lose sight of him.

“What?”

“I think he’s made us.”

“How?”

“Dumb bad luck, I’m guessing.  Or he expected we’d follow him up the mountain.  He’s just sped up.”

“How far away?”

“A half-mile.  We should see him higher up when we turn the next corner.”

It took an eternity to get there, and when we did, Alan was right, only he was further on than we thought.”

“Step on it.  Let’s catch him up before he gets to the top.”

Easy to say, not so easy to do.  The road was treacherous, and in places just gravel, and there were no guard rails to stop a three thousand footfall down the mountainside.

Good thing then I had the foresight to have three agents on the hill for just such a scenario.

Ten minutes later, we were in sight of the car, still moving quickly, but we were going slightly faster.  We’d catch up just short of the summit car park.

Or so we thought.

Coming quickly around another corner we almost slammed into the car we’d been chasing.

“What the hell…” Aland muttered.

I was out of the car, and over to see if he was in it, but I knew that it was only a slender possibility.  The car was empty, and no indication where he went.

Certainly not up the road.  It was relatively straightforward for the next mile, at which we would have reached the summit.  Up the mountainside from here, or down.

I looked up.  Nothing.

Alan yelled out, “He’s not going down, not that I can see, but if he did, there’s hardly a foothold and that’s a long fall.”

Then where did he go?

Then a man looking very much like our quarry came out from behind a rock embedded just a short distance up the hill.

“Sorry,” he said quite calmly.  “Had to go if you know what I mean.”

I’d lost him.

It was as simple as that.

I had been led a merry chase up the hill, and all the time he was getting away in a different direction.

I’d fallen for the oldest trick in the book, letting my desperation blind me to the disguise that anyone else would see through in an instant.

It was a lonely sight, looking down that road, knowing that I had to go all that way down again, only this time, without having to throw caution to the wind.

“Maybe next time,” Alan said.

“We’ll get him.  It’s just a matter of time.”

© Charles Heath 2019-2021

Find this and other stories in “Inspiration, maybe”  available soon.

InspirationMaybe1v1

The cinema of my dreams – It ended in Sorrento – Episode 54

Anna’s arch-enemy

…

I was woken to a bunch of messages arriving on my phone just after the time I’d designated as ‘switch on’.  I had only recently realised the phone had a ‘sleep’ function.

Among the messages was one that said he had arranged for the will matters to be finalised in a week’s time, and that he had organised a stay of proceedings based on what appeared to be legal mumbo jumbo.

It doesn’t matter.  It was the week I needed.

I didn’t have to wake Cecelia; she was an early riser and an exercise freak.  She’d already been out and back, showered and dressed and was ready.

“You have an assignment.”

“From all that stuff we got.  It looked like we needed a lawyer to decipher it.”

“It’s simply given us a week to close this case.  I want you to go to the main Dicostini resident and stake it out.  I suspect you might see some familiar faces before the morning’s out.”

“What are you going to do.”

“Break the news to our three charges, if they’re still there.”

“And you think…”

“We’ll soon find out.”

“Can I take the sniper rifle?”

“Have you got one?”

She just gave me one of those condescending looks of hers.

“Yes.”

“Good.  There might be some prospective big game hunting.”

I showered and dressed and headed over to the hotel where, hopefully, the three women were still waiting.  I guess the fact they might be still in someone’s crosshairs might be incentive enough to sit still.

For them, it was only another day.  I wondered what they were going to sat when I told them it had been put back a week.

When I arrived, they were cooking breakfast, and it appeared they were all good friends, almost as if they were on holiday together.  None seemed to look like they were going out for the day, though Juliet had dressed, so perhaps she was the one going out for supplies.

She was sitting at the table nursing a mug of coffee.  It smelled better than the one I made from the hotel minibar, and I was still slightly annoyed I hadn’t got down to the hotel breakfast room.

“One day to go,” the countess said.

I wondered, in that moment, just who she really was.  To look like the countess, enough to fool the Burkehardt’s she could not be one of the Dicostini family.  Dicostini had gone to a lot of trouble to make this work, including kidnapping and attempted murder.

If he was the one behind the deception.

“That’s what I came to discuss.  There are some legal issues to be ironed out and the signing will not happen for another week.”

The countess looked annoyed.  “Those Burkehardt’s are up to something, trying to find a way around it.  We can’t let that happen.”

“And we won’t.  I’ve alerted your solicitor, and he assures me that he’s on the case, and will be calling on Anna tomorrow.  I saw her yesterday, and whilst she would rather it didn’t happen, she recognises that in the absence of a will, the state determines your claim.  I presume that you searched for a will and couldn’t find one?”

Or more to the point, she had not been there to search for anything, but the real countess had.  What would she have done?  It was a question I’d asked when we finally met.

“Benito?”

“The one and same.  We met, and he seems to me to be quite stodgy.  I can tell him, if I see him, you’re here.”

“No.  I don’t quite trust him, simply because he once worked for the Burkehardt’s and may still have some allegiance towards them.  I’d rather he not know where I am.”

“As you wish.”

I would have thought she if she was the real countess, would want to see him.  Another nail in her coffin.

Juliet handed me a mug, and it had a nice aroma about it.  Our hands touched, and there was a tingle.  Damn her.  Despite everything, she was still in my thoughts, and that was not good.

Especially if I had to shoot her.

I sat next to her at the table.  The others kept cooking breakfast.

“What are you doing with yourself?  I bet that Cecelia type is keeping you amused.”

“She is a colleague.  If I want anything to keep me amused, it’s working out why you are here, and there, and everywhere I go.”

She smiled.  “Serendipity.”

“Or a curse.

“Perhaps it’s fate trying to bring us back together?”

“Why?”

It had been a mismatch and ill-fated relationship the first time around, perhaps one of those things a patient has for their doctor.  She was there, she treated me nicely, and she needed someone to pour out her troubles to.  We mutually kept each other sane.  I was disappointed when I discovered she had gone off the deep end.

But, as Rodby said in his usual pragmatic way, shit happens.

But, the question loitering in the back of my mind was how she could find me when I was so deeply buried in a new persona in a place where no one could possibly find me.

Venice.

“Why are you here?”

“To tell you about the legal proceedings.”

“You could have called.”

“And you should be working for us.  A third degree if I’m not mistaken.”  She was not a fool.  A distracting answer was needed fast.  “I hate to admit this but I was thinking about you last night, and I got it in my head that I had to see you.”  I shrugged.  “Now I have.”

It seemed to assuage her curiosity.  “What’s going to happen after this is over?”

“You’ll get to live happily ever after with your mother.  It had to be what you call serendipity to be reunited with her after all these years?”

“You might think so.”

“You don’t.”

“There’s a reason why she left me behind.  I doubt a leopard is going to change it’s spots.  Once she gets her money she’s gone.”

“What money?”

“On one hand, if she had to verify the countess’s identity, on the other, putting me in the frame as an heir.  I don’t want it, but it is worth quite a lot, and she says I can just sell it and both of us could have the life we were meant to have.”

“You believe her?”

“Everybody in my life has screwed me over, Evan?  What do you think?”

“I think, if you’re rich, I could come and live with you.  That Burkehardt residence is something else, and, it has servants.”  I stood.  “Just a thought.”

I’m not sure what she made of that, but it certainly wasn’t what she was expecting.

© Charles Heath 2023

‘The Devil You Don’t’ – A beta reader’s view

It could be said that of all the women one could meet, whether contrived or by sheer luck, what are the odds it would turn out to be the woman who was being paid a very large sum to kill you.

John Pennington is a man who may be lucky in business, but not so lucky in love. He has just broken up with Phillipa Sternhaven, the woman he thought was the one, but relatives and circumstances, and perhaps because she was a ‘princess’, may also have contributed to the end result.

So, what do you do when you are heartbroken?

That is a story that slowly unfolds, from the first meeting with his nemesis on Lake Geneva, all the way to a hotel room in Sorrento, where he learns the shattering truth.

What should have been solace after disappointment, turns out to be something else entirely, and from that point, everything goes to hell in a handbasket.

He suddenly realizes his so-called friend Sebastian has not exactly told him the truth about a small job he asked him to do, the woman he is falling in love with is not quite who she says she is, and he is caught in the middle of a war between two men who consider people becoming collateral damage as part of their business.

The story paints the characters cleverly displaying all their flaws and weaknesses. The locations add to the story at times taking me back down memory lane, especially to Venice where, in those back streets I confess it’s not all that hard to get lost.

All in all a thoroughly entertaining story with, for once, a satisfying end.

…

Available on Amazon here: https://amzn.to/2Xyh1ow

…

First Dig Two Graves – the editor’s final draft – Day 5

This book has been sitting in the ‘to-be-done’ tray, so this month it is going to get the final revision.

…

Talk about rescue missions gone wrong.

John is not very good at this, though who’s to say Sebastian isn’t as good as he thinks he is.

So, tossed in a basement awaiting his fate, who should he discover: Zoe

Mission accomplished.

Of course, no good deed goes unpunished as she tears strips off him for being a fool, firstly to come after her, and second, for trusting Sebastian.

But, they’ve been in tighter scrapes before, and the fun is just about to begin.

After a few minutes of catching up!

And, no doubt, Sebastian is somewhere near plotting his own operation to fix up the first operation.

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

The Cinema of My Dreams – It ended in Sorrento – Episode 52

A visit to Heidi’s mother-in-law

…

I had intended to go to the Burkehardt residence with Ceceila as backup, but that would have left Francesca to her own devices, which to me would have been to turn up at the residence unannounced.

If Francesca had wanted to leave, Cecelia would let her, and it would not surprise me if she either let her bosses know how things were going, especially in relation to Juliet, and that they would want Francesca to find her.  The other possibility, is that Francesca was on her way, or already at the residence making herself known on behalf of her employers.

That I was wrong on all counts when I rang Cecelia to see if she had left, was disconcerting.  It meant another game was in play.  I was sure she had reported to her employers by now, and that they had asked her to impede us at every turn.  It just made it harder to guess why Francesca was with us.

I was stopped at the gate to the main Burkehardt residence by guards, who, I deduced from their dismissive manner, had been instructed to turn everyone away.  I asked them to tell the Mistress that I had information on the Countess Heidi von Burkehart’s whereabouts and then waited ten minutes before the gates magically opened.

If Alessandro was there, I would have some explaining to do.

I parked the car on the gravel outside the front portico and walked up the stairs to the front entrance.  The doors were open and a man in a morning suit was waiting for me.  I’d give the gate my Detective Inspector’s name, without the Detective Inspector prefix.

“Come this way.”

It was all he said.

I followed him through to a large room off the side of the entrance hall, what looked like a library, with several full-size suits of armour.

The older Countess was waiting for me at the front of her desk.

“Mr. Johnson, though I’m sure that bears no resemblance to your real name, and Detective Inspector you definitely are not.”

“I assure you I am, but it’s just one of my jobs.  Like I told your son Alessandro back in London, they only call me when it looks like the jurisdiction is about to change.”

“You have no authority here.”

“True, but like I said, they call me in when that happens.  My other self is the one with no borders, nor do I care about jurisdiction.  I come, solve the problem, and then go.  I am only interested in the wellbeing of the Countess Heidi.  Don’t make this into more than it is.”

“Security said you were going to be a pain, as did the people I employed to find the countess.  Perhaps I should fire them and employ you instead.”  She went behind her desk and sat down.

I sat in a chair to one side of the desk.

“It won’t do you much good to try.  I’m not doing this for the money.  I’m supposed to be retired, but I have an old boss who won’t let me go.”

“Rodby, yes.  His wife is the sister of the countess.  Fancy having a direct connection to a spy organisation.  I only just found that out but I’m sure you knew that.  I presume your other self is a spy?”

“I wish.  The suits, the cars, the toys.”  I shook my head.  “Nothing quite as glamorous, I can assure you.  And I only just discovered the Heidi connection too.  One of the drawbacks, we don’t always get the whole story.”  A bit too much sharing, but it was more to disarm the old lady, who looked to me still had some fire and brimstone in reserve.

“You said you have information about the countess?”

“I do.  But before I tell you, I need to know is there anyone you have managed to make angry, or you have caused problems for, or who wants to buy this enterprise, perhaps with prejudice?”

She gave me a look that was surprise or contempt before she summoned her best angry tone to say, “That’s absurd.”

It meant one of the three suggestions was right.

“You run a very profitable and well-respected operation here.  It no doubt creates rivalry with others in the same line of business who are not as well run, perhaps.”

It had to be a business rival.  The most recent information from the research team mentioned that there were several suitors for the business after the Count died, but no one specific. 

I could see her expression soften, that it was a problem she wanted to resolve herself, but it was not working out.  Alessandro had tried and failed to make it seem like business as usual, but a ship without a rudder soon foundered.  The uncertainty about the successor to the count had created uncertainty in the investors.

“There is one person, though I’m not sure he qualifies as aggressive but he is incompetent.  Alberto Dicostini.  The count and he were friends and business partners until Dicostini stole from the business.  After that, they became bitter rivals.  I am sure it is he who killed my husband, and later my son, the count.  It is why my sons and daughter have such security.  He had vowed to kill us all.  He will fail, as he always does.”

And there was a possible solution to the problem.  It was possible that it was Dicostini behind the fake countess, and if he presented her as the countess and she inherited, that what is hers would become his.  It’s almost foolproof.  The fake would have to pass the keen eyes of the Burkehardt family.  I’d seen the fake, but I hadn’t known the real one.

“You are vehemently opposed to the countess inheriting are you not?”

“She is an incompetent fool.”

“But a member of this family, and if she was to inherit, would she keep it in the family?”

“You’d think so, but a friend told me she was going to sell it, maybe not to Dicostini, but it will have the same effect.  He will get what he wants.”

“Have you tried to convince her to do the right thing.  As far as I can tell, she is the lawful heir.”

“There is another.”

“Which your investigators told you about?”

“How do you know this?”

“I have one of them with me.  Not here now, but back in Sorrento.  That might not necessarily be the case.  I’m beginning to believe that she is not a legitimate heir.  I suspect that Vittoria Remano, as she calls herself these days, did have a child, but not by the Count.  And although the count said he fathered a child, I believe he never got to see anything but photos, nor living proof, just the word of a maid.”

“And the birth certificate?”

“Did you get you investigators the check it?’

“I assumed they did.”

“Then they’ve got two days before I bring the three women to the solicitor’s office for the signing.  One of them will be a woman claiming to be the countess.”

“So, you know where she is?”

I sighed.  “You’re not listening to me.”

She paused for a moment as if to go over our conversation.  Then, “You’re saying the woman you have is not the countess?”

“I’m saying I don’t know, but if it was the real countess, who was kidnapped with Mrs Rodby, why is Mrs Rodby still missing?”

© Charles Heath 2023

The cinema of my dreams – I never wanted to go to Africa – Episode 8

…

Was that a battle of wits?

…

I think I won the battle of wits, or whatever it was.

A few moments later he sat on the other side, pushing the chair back from the table, and me, as a deliberate act.

Distancing.

Besides adopting the speak when spoken to route, I was also adopting that age old modus operandi of not volunteering anything. If they knew anything they would have to tell me what they knew.

So, to begin with, another round of silence.

Then, after a few more minutes, s thin knowing smile, as if he knew everything I’d do before I did. Perhaps he was a psychology professor.

“What we you doing in a no fly zone?”

Well that answered at least two questions right there. We were where we were not supposed to be, and, as a stab in the dark, knowing how good the pilot was, we had deliberately strayed there.

On orders, or curiosity. No, orders.

Reason, suspected enemy or other activity in a designated area being used as cover. Had the Commander known about this and ordered a discreet incursion.

It felt more like a routine operation.

“I was not the pilot. You’d have to ask him, although that might be difficult now he’s dead.”

“The nature of you pre op briefing, then?”

“There wasn’t one, or if there was, I wasn’t included.”

“That would be a violation of regulations would it not?”

“You’d have to ask the military lawyers. I just make up the numbers, and do as I’m told.” I could add more but don’t volunteer information. Let them dig for it.

“Then why were you on board?”

He asked that question as if it was a surprise to him or someone else.

I think at that moment I realised there might be bigger fish that might get fried from this interview. There was an arrangement in place that if the pilot wanted to go up for extra hours, he had to take someone like me along, for situations like that which had happened.

This had been sanctioned by the Commander, but I don’t think it included heading out to hot spots. If this man was from our side, he might be on a witch hunt.

I looked at him in a new light.

This man was trouble of a different sort.

…

© Charles Heath 2019-2021

The cinema of my dreams – Was it just another surveillance job – Episode 40

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

…

Darkness fell in a noticeably short time, and we left the pub at about six. In the hour so we have been there I’d been keeping a close eye on the comings and goings, and in particular, if O’Connell came in, or someone else that might look like him.

He hadn’t, nor had any mythical family members.  Well, it had been a long shot.

Jennifer hadn’t volunteered anything more to the conversation and sat working her way through a piece of fried fish and a bowl of chips.  Neither had looked appetizing.  I would have bet she’d have the chicken, but I was wrong, and probably it wasn’t going to be the first time.

“Do you have a gun?”

It was after ten minutes of silence.  It worried me that she didn’t ask how far it was or how long it would take.  And then, out of nowhere, the gun question.

“No.  Why would I have a gun.?”

“We were issued with weapons.  I still have mine.”

“Did you bring it with you?”

“No.  Like I told you, I didn’t think I was still working for the Department.  They didn’t ask for it back, so I didn’t give it to them.”

“Or the identities?”

“No.  It was odd though; they didn’t ask about them either.”

“Maybe they were going to wait a while and then ask you back.”

This was a weird conversation to be having.  By this time we were in Peaslake Lane, and not far from the house I pulled over to the side of the road, under a tree.

The houses were set back in a rural setting.  Between the darkness and the undergrowth, the chances were we could get to the house without being seen.  From where I was sitting, no windows or doors were visible.

I made sure the car’s internal light didn’t go on the moment the door was open.

“Are you bringing your cell phone?”

“Why.  I’m not envisaging having to call anyone, nor am I expecting a call.”

I shrugged, and slipped mine into a pocket where I could easily reach it I needed to.

I got out of the car, and she followed.  She left he bag in the car.  The first sign of training kicking in; eave all un-necessary baggage behind.  Perhaps having a gun might have been a good option if we ran into trouble.

Oddly enough, now that I thought about it, Monica hadn’t asked for mine back either, but it was sitting at home in a safe, along with the five other identities Severin had issued each of us with.

I locked the car, equally as silent and invisible as she joined me.

“Which house?”

“Three along.  Follow me and keep your eyes and ears peeled.”

I didn’t have to tell her, but it didn’t hurt to emphasize the importance of stealth.  There were people home in other houses, lights in windows just discernible through the trees, one house a window without a curtain, a view into the dining room, but there was no one at the table.

If we were visiting them, perhaps we’d be in time for dinner.

The house we were looking for was in darkness from our approach.

“You keep an eye open this side, and I’ll go around the other, then come back.  I’ll see if there’s an easy entry point.”

“What if someone is home?”

“Doesn’t look like it from here, and I’ll be surprised if there is.”

A moment later she had disappeared into the shrub line and I was heading across the front of the house, heading for the other side.  I kept well away from the front door, just in case there was a motion light, or worse, a motion detector that might set off a silent alarm.

But, that might already have happened, and if it had, no one had made a move inside.

Down the side was walls and windows, no doors or French doors leading out into the garden.  None of the windows were at a decent height for us to clamber through, and if we had to, it was going to be difficult.

I continued on, around the back, where there was more success.  French doors leading onto a patio, and then the lawn.  In the corner was a greenhouse, and next to that a rose garden.  Or at least that was what both looked like in the dark.

The moon, for the moment, was hidden by dark clouds.

Perhaps it would rain, though it had not been in the forecast, but, this was England, and it could rain at any time, especially when you didn’t want or need it.  There was no light, or motion sensor over the French doors, so I crossed the patio and looked through the doors.

I had expected curtains, but these hadn’t been completely drawn.  No large light or lamp on, but there were indicator lights, several red and one a particularly bright blue, casting a rather long shadow over furniture and what looked to be a carpet square.

Out of curiosity, I tried the door.

It was open.

Then I had the blind panic moment of thinking it might be alarmed.

I shut it again and waited.

…

© Charles Heath 2020