I was going to say ‘Captain’s log supplemental’ and add a stardate, but the analogy might get lost because not everyone is a Star Trekker.

Needless to say, there’s always more to say about an event, especially when the mind is casting about for ideas to add or enhance a story.

It comes down to, does art imitate life, or does life imitate art?  It’s an interesting question because, in this instance, art will be imitating, to a certain extent, life.

Perhaps what is lost in the telling is the inability of newly divorced people in working out where the boundaries are, whether or not they are entitled to know about the other person’s private life, and how that will make them feel.

I’m guessing when a marriage breaks down, there’s always a cause, and while the word amicable gets bandied around a lot, it’s said, but quite often not meant.

Does mummy have a boyfriend?

Does daddy have a girlfriend?

What generally happens is the children are the only ones who know what’s really happening to each of the parents, because they get transported between the two, as neither parent would want to be seen stopping the other from seeing them/

Of course, where the children are grown up and leading their own lives, the situation should be a lot easier.

But, where does this fit in with the story I hear you asking.

 

Marriages fall apart for many reasons.  In the story, Bill acknowledges that it is largely his fault, and one suspects it’s probably an undiagnosed case of PTSD that back in the sixties and seventies was not really understood.

It led to both he and Ellen leading individual but separate lives whilst keeping up appearances for the sake of their children.  There’s no doubting who brought them up, Ellen, and who had the greater influence over them, although, for the sake of this story, both couldn’t wait to leave home and live somewhere else.

They do, and together.  They are not married and do not have children.  They were not the cause of the breakup, and fortunately, neither of the girls blame one or the other parent.

But that doesn’t mean, over the years, that either parent hasn’t tried to use them to glean information about the other.  It is how Bill discovered, some time ago, that Ellen had ‘a special friend’.

Yet, neither of the daughters have seen him, and not surprisingly, he had made sure that Bill has never seen him.  It’s for a particular reason, one that will become obvious later in the story.  It is, I think, a rather clever twist.

Also, Ellen is not a bad person and certainly wasn’t bad to Bill, perhaps more long-suffering.  She did stay with him for a long time, mainly for the children, but also because she genuinely cared for Bill.

And Bill had not had another woman friend, not until he discovers his feelings towards Jennifer and even then, he keeps that to himself, even when he really doesn’t have to.

Sigh.

Time to return to my fictional world.

Here’s the thing…

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

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

But these dreams are nothing to laugh about.

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

…

Alex is a problem

…

My mother didn’t return after the sheriff and Charlene left, and it didn’t bother me as much as it should.

What did bother me was the extent Alex, and no doubt his new best friend Vince, had muddied the water, but they did have a week to get their stories straight.

A point taken out of the interview with Charlene:  any evidence of Boggs father or Ormiston had been removed, along with the pirate skeletons and anything also that could be identified.

No one would believe us if we said we saw them, we would be classed as delusional, and probably not without reason. 

Another point, we had not been tied up when we were recovered, and there were no noticeable marks, or at least couldn’t be explained away.  It was obvious they had come back, not only to cleanse the site but to make our deaths look more natural.

The last, for that moment, was the fact no one went looking for us after Alex said we had run away together.

The question that had to be asked, was what eventually prompted the police to start looking for us, and why was it in the cave system?  I had not exactly alluded to where it was.

I heard the door to my room open and shut and rolled over, expecting a nurse.

It was Charlene, alone this time, leaning against the door.

“What are you not telling me?”

“What else is there to say?  Apparently, Alex knows more about my situation than I do, so you have to ask yourself, how that’s possible.”

“You tell me.”

“So you can take anything I say to the Benderby’s so they can use it against me?  I’m not surprised the Benderby’s have got you doing their dirty work for them.  After all, your father is up for re-election, and needs their support to stay in office.”

A furrowed brow and dark look told me I was on dangerous ground.  Implying the sheriff was in Benderby’s pocket wasn’t the best idea, even if it was rumoured to be true.

“What exactly are you implying?”

Brittle tone, time to back down.  “Nothing.  You managed to get a good result from a bad situation, except for poor Boggs.  What happened to him?”

“Slipped and fell, the medical examiner believes.  No signs of foul play if that’s what you’re asking?”

“Where?”

“On the rocks at the foot of the cliff leading up to the ledge and cave entrance, in full climbing gear.  Had we not found him there, we would not have found you.  We assumed since he didn’t find the treasure, he left, leaving you two behind.”

It fitted the story, no doubt seeded by Alex.  And reasonably true, to a certain extent.  He had left us, but not out of pique.

“You could say he was disappointed.”

“What happened, because I don’t understand why you didn’t leave at the same time.”

“Boggs was there for the treasure.  We wanted to do more exploring, but ended up getting lost.”

It was a logical explanation and would fit her narrative.  I didn’t see the point of throwing any curve balls.

I could see her processing.

“You mustn’t think very much of me Sam.”

“Whatever gives you that idea?”

“I don’t think I’ve heard one word of truth from you so far.  I know something happened in that cave, and you were not the only people involved.  Alex can’t lie to save himself, and Vince Cossatino, well, stark staring bonkers doesn’t begin to describe him.  They’re mixed up in this somehow, and I can’t do anything about it unless you tell me the truth.”

“An old newspaper adage I once heard sums up what I think appropriately describes this situation you find yourself in.  Don’t let the truth get in the way of a good story.  You can draw any picture you want, but we both know the person with the best lawyers will win the day, irrespective of what you think happened or what actually happened.  It might be a different story if you found us dead, but you didn’t.”

“There’s Boggs.  He didn’t make it, and I’m not convinced he fell to his death.  I found a climbing expert to review the gear, the site, and the body.  Boggs was left-handed wasn’t he?”

Perhaps I might have misjudged her, and her tenacity in investigating.  But, there was a problem.  “Ambidextrous when climbing, right-handed when playing most sports.  The guy was an enigma at times, and a bit of a daredevil.”

“Still…”

“You’re going to need more than that before casting aspersions that will destroy his mother if she’s not already there.”

“I don’t get it, Sam.  Why won’t you help me?”

“No point.  We both know who runs this town, and always has.  You were at school the same as I was, and Alex was always untouchable.  You don’t want to make an enemy of him.  I did and look where it got me.”

“I have a job…”

“The wrong job, or maybe the wrong place.  There’s a reason why your father is not pushing this.  Alex will get what he deserves, perhaps sooner rather than later.”

“You think the Cossatino’s will exact their own justice?  That’s not going to happen.  At the moment the Cossatino’s and the Benderby’s are like peas in a pod.”

That was disconcerting news, and I wondered how Nadia had taken that.

“How is Nadia, by the way?”

“She’s apparently taken a vow of silence.  I suspect the first visit from her father was to warn her against making any accusations.  She hasn’t told us anything, except how you convinced her that she would be rescued.  It must have been terrible.”

Worse.  Not knowing if anyone would come, and as time passed, that feeling this was your time to die.  I had gotten to the point where I regretted wasting all those years after leaving school and doing nothing.  The fact my mother needed me had made that decision all too easy, but now I realized, she hadn’t needed me, that she was contented with her two suitors and remaining just out of reach, playing them against each other.

A commotion outside the door took my mind away from those thoughts, and seconds later Alex came into the room.

“You shouldn’t be here, Alex,” Charlene said, standing between him and me.

“You don’t know your place, Charlene, and that’s not here.  Go play detective somewhere else.”

“You want to be careful Alex.”

“Or what?  You’ll get your father to sort me out?”  He laughed.  “So naive and stupid.  We own him, and he’ll do what he’s told.  As will you.  Now, get out before I throw you out.”

I watched her consider how she was going to respond, even to the point of telling him off, but there was that hesitation, confirmation of what I’d just told her, which was far worse than I suspected.  Then, a shake of the head, and, “I’ll be just outside, you do anything, I’ll be a witness “

Brave, but pointless.  He shoved her out, and closed the blind, and the door.

“So Smidge, you’ve been spreading lies.”

“Have I ?  What lies, specifically?”

“Your mother came around and told my father Vince and I tied you up and left you for dead “

“Rather accurate, don’t you think?”

“Lies, Smidge.  The result of our differences perhaps, but whatever the reason, don’t repeat them again.  Not if you want a ton of bricks to rain down on you, literally.”

So my mother had gone straight to Benderby.  No surprise there, but was it because she cared, or was she reporting my comments?

“I wouldn’t be worried about me, Alex.  You have bigger problems to deal with.”

“Oh?  I don’t think so, if you’re referring to Nadia.  We have a deal with the Cossatinos.  If she says anything, they’ll deal with her.”

“In all the time you dated her, Alex, did she show you her true colours?”

“She’s just a stupid girl like all the rest.  What are you talking about?”

There was no hint of concern, and that might just be his Achilles heel.  If I could just sow a few seeds of doubt in his mind…

“I’d run Alex.  As far and as fast as you can.”

The door crashed open and the Sheriff came in, red-faced and very angry.

“Get out Alex.”

“Do you need to be reminded who you are talking to?”

The sheriff apparently didn’t, and with one punch propelled Alex across the room and into the wall, before he crashed to the ground.  He wisely stayed on the floor, as the sheriff was standing over him, ready for round two.

“My father will hear about this,” he said, pulling out his phone.

“He will.  I have two witnesses who will testify you threw the first punch and were resisting a direct order to leave.  If you know what’s good for you, you’ll stay put and shut your mouth.”

Alex did.

He turned to me.  “Where’s Nadia?”

“Last I heard she was in a hospital bed.”

“She left “

“You talk to her parents?”  Alex joined the conversation.   Perhaps he was hoping that was the case.  I didn’t think it was.

“They’re surprised.  We have CCTV footage of her leaving, alone.  I ask again, Sam, where is she?”

“What makes you think I would know where she is.”

“You were alone with her in that cave, in a near-death situation.  People tend to confide their deepest innermost secrets at such a time.”

“Not with me.  The girl is as much an enigma to me as she is to everyone else.  But one thing she did say, she’s nothing like her parents, so much so, she reckoned they adopted her.”

“Not helping Sam.”

I looked over at Alex.  “You should ask the sheriff to put you in protective custody, Alex.”

He snorted in disbelief, obviously remembering what I’d said earlier.

The sheriff picked up on it.  “Why would you say that?”

“Sometimes it’s what is not said that is most telling.”

“Then you’re saying that Alex and Vince had something to do with you being left in that cave because for the life of me, I can’t understand why you didn’t just walk out of there.  I don’t believe for one minute you got lost, Sam.  Not you.  I know you.”

He might, but Alex was still in the room and it was still unfounded allegations.  But there was a slight look of panic on his face.

“Well, believe it or not, that’s what happened.  I would appreciate it if you took Alex away, and stopped him from harassing me.  As for Nadia, if she has any sense, she should go back to Italy.  For what it’s worth, she won’t go back to the Grove, which isn’t home to her, but she might go back to her hotel room.”

I told him which hotel and the room number and told him to leave and take Alex with him.  I suggested protective custody, just in case, but neither seemed to think he would need it, which left me with a curious notion, did the sheriff want Nadia to take care of a problem he couldn’t.

…

© Charles Heath 2020-2022

Investigation of crimes doesn’t always go according to plan, nor does the perpetrator get either found or punished.

That was particularly true in my case.  The murderer was incredibly careful in not leaving any evidence behind, to the extent that the police could not rule out whether it was a male or a female.

At one stage the police thought I had murdered my own wife though how I could be on a train at the time of the murder was beyond me.  I had witnesses and a cast-iron alibi.

The officer in charge was Detective First Grade Gabrielle Walters.  She came to me on the day after the murder seeking answers to the usual questions like, when was the last time you saw your wife, did you argue, the neighbors reckon there were heated discussions the day before.

Routine was the word she used.

Her fellow detective was a surly piece of work whose intention was to get answers or, more likely, a confession by any or all means possible.  I could sense the raging violence within him.  Fortunately, common sense prevailed.

Over the course of the next few weeks, once I’d been cleared of committing the crime, Gabrielle made a point of keeping me informed of the progress.

After three months the updates were more sporadic, and when, for lack of progress, it became a cold case, communication ceased.

But it was not the last I saw of Gabrielle.

The shock of finding Vanessa was more devastating than the fact she was now gone, and those images lived on in the same nightmare that came to visit me every night when I closed my eyes.

For months I was barely functioning, to the extent I had all but lost my job, and quite a few friends, particularly those who were more attached to Vanessa rather than me.

They didn’t understand how it could affect me so much, and since it had not happened to them, my tart replies of ‘you wouldn’t understand’ were met with equally short retorts.  Some questioned my sanity, even, for a time, so did I.

No one, it seemed, could understand what it was like, no one except Gabrielle.

She was by her own admission, damaged goods, having been the victim of a similar incident, a boyfriend who turned out to be an awfully bad boy.  Her story varied only in she had been made to witness his execution.  Her nightmare, in reliving that moment in time, was how she was still alive and, to this day, had no idea why she’d been spared.

It was a story she told me one night, some months after the investigation had been scaled down.  I was still looking for the bottom of a bottle and an emotional mess.  Perhaps it struck a resonance with her; she’d been there and managed to come out the other side.

What happened become our secret, a once-only night together that meant a great deal to me, and by mutual agreement, it was not spoken of again.  It was as if she knew exactly what was required to set me on the path to recovery.

And it had.

Since then, we saw each about once a month in a cafe.   I had been surprised to hear from her again shortly after that eventful night when she called to set it up, ostensibly for her to provide me with any updates on the case, but perhaps we had, after that unspoken night, formed a closer bond than either of us wanted to admit.

We generally talked for hours over wine, then dinner and coffee.  It took a while for me to realize that all she had was her work, personal relationships were nigh on impossible in a job that left little or no spare time for anything else.

She’d always said that if I had any questions or problems about the case, or if there was anything that might come to me that might be relevant, even after all this time, all I had to do was call her.

I wondered if this text message was in that category.  I was certain it would interest the police and I had no doubt they could trace the message’s origin, but there was that tiny degree of doubt, about whether or not I could trust her to tell me what the message meant.

I reached for the phone then put it back down again.  I’d think about it and decide tomorrow.

© Charles Heath 2018-2020

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 to pique 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

…

To write a private detective serial has always been one of the items at the top of my to-do list, though trying to write novels and a serial, as well as a blog, and maintain a social media presence, well, you get the idea.

But I made it happen, from a bunch of episodes I wrote a long, long time ago, used these to start it, and then continue on, then as now, never having much of an idea where it was going to end up, or how long it would take to tell the story.

That, I think is the joy of ad hoc writing, even you, as the author, have as much idea of where it’s going as the reader does.

It’s basically been in the mill since 1990, and although I finished it last year, it looks like the beginning to end will have taken exactly 30 years.  Had you asked me 30 years ago if I’d ever get it finished, the answer would be maybe?

My private detective, Harry Walthenson

I’d like to say he’s from that great literary mold of Sam Spade, or Mickey Spillane, or Phillip Marlow, but he’s not.

But, I’ve watched Humphrey Bogart play Sam Spade with much interest, and modelled Harry and his office on it.  Similarly, I’ve watched Robert Micham play Phillip Marlow with great panache, if not detachment, and added a bit of him to the mix.

Other characters come into play, and all of them, no matter what period they’re from, always seem larger than life.  I’m not above stealing a little of Mary Astor, Peter Lorre or Sidney Greenstreet, to breathe life into beguiling women and dangerous men alike.

Then there’s the title, like

The Case of the Unintentional Mummy – this has so many meanings in so many contexts, though I imagine that back in Hollywood in the ’30s and ’40s, this would be excellent fodder for Abbott and Costello

The Case of the Three-Legged Dog – Yes, I suspect there may be a few real-life dogs with three legs, but this plot would involve something more sinister.  And if made out of plaster, yes, they’re always something else inside.

But for mine, to begin with, it was “The Case of the …”, because I had no idea what the case was going to be about, well, I did, but not specifically.

Then I liked the idea of calling it “The Case of the Brother’s Revenge” because I began to have a notion there was a brother no one knew about, but that’s stuff for other stories, not mine, so then went the way of the others.

Now it’s called ‘A Case of Working With the Jones Brothers’, finished the first three drafts, and at the editor for the last.

I have high hopes of publishing it in early 2021.  It even has a cover.

Here’s the thing…

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

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

But these dreams are nothing to laugh about.

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

…

The rescue story

…

When I woke again, it was noticeable that it was light outside the room, even though the curtains were drawn.

My mother was sitting, or rather slumping, in the chair beside the bed, asleep.  She looked tired, worse, like she had been to hell and back.

I guess the thought of losing me, after my father, might have been too much for her to bear.  It also brought up the question of why I hadn’t told her what I was doing.  At the time, it didn’t seem to matter, I’d always be coming home, and there was no question in my mind that anything bad might happen to me.

So, of course, there was an easy answer and a more complicated answer, but I had to hope she wasn’t going to jump to any conclusions before I had a chance to explain.  And then, when I thought about it, what could I say that was not going to tip her over the edge?  In not planning for the worst eventuality, the worst had happened.

I’d done everything I said I would never do, and for selfish reasons.  It was nearly the death of me.  How could I expect her to understand any of it?

She stirred, then slowly sat up, and stretched.  Those chairs were not comfortable at the best of times.

“I’m sorry,” I said, my voice barely above a whisper.

She stopped mid-stretch and looked at me.  It was not with anger or annoyance, but relief.

“How are you?”  She lowered her hands to take mine in hers.

It was a strange question, given my condition, and being in a hospital.  Yet, I guess everyone asked that same question out of courtesy or to make polite conversation.

“I’m told I’ll live.”

“A good thing too.  I’m glad they found you.”

“Who?”

“You know, that slip of a girl you told me you liked, but she was too good for you, or some such nonsense.”

“Charlene?”

“The sheriff’s daughter, yes.”

“She still is.”

“Only in your mind Sam.”

Forever the matchmaker even on my near-death bed, she had always been looking for the right girl, never accepting that our station in life made certain choices impossible.  And, even if Charlene liked me, she would not be allowed, but that was something my mother would never understand.

“What day is it?”  I had no idea of the date or time for that matter, but it had to be days later.

“Thursday. You were missing for nearly eight days, and it’s been a further five days while being treated for severe dehydration.”

First question, what happened to Boggs?

It was as if my mother could read my mind.  “I was told that when they found you, you were asking about Boggs.  I’m sorry to tell you he was found deceased yesterday in one of the caves.”

Had he got lost, or did Alex and Vince go after him too?  They hadn’t left in the same direction, so in all likelihood, he simply got lost, though being the climber and cave Explorer he was, that seemed unlikely.

“That Cossatino girl recovered quickly, but she’s still here, under observation.  She’s been saying she’s not leaving until she sees you.  I’m not sure that’s a good idea, Sam. The sheriff is considering charges against that whole family.”

“She didn’t do anything wrong.  It was her brother and Alex who tied us up and left us for dead.”

She didn’t get time to respond, but the astonished look on her face told me something was very amiss.  The sheriff and Charlene had arrived with the doctor, and a nurse who hustled her out of the room.

The doctor examined me, asked a few questions to determine whether I could withstand an interrogation, and then left me with the interrogators, the sheriff, standing back after closing the door, and Charlene, in the seat my mother just vacated.

She had her notepad open on a blank page.

“Firstly, I should apologize for taking so long to send out a search party.  For the record, I received your text message.  I assume you sent that before you left.”

“As we walked out the door of the shoreside hut.  I assume that was the first place you looked.”

It was obvious it wasn’t, so I was beginning 5o wonder what happened.  My first question was, “when did you find out we were missing.”

“Your mother came to the office two days after the message.  She said you hadn’t come home but wasn’t overly worried because she assumed you were with Nadia.  She only came because your work had asked her if you were ill because you hadn’t turned up for your shift, and that it was the first time.”

“As a courtesy to your mother Sam, I said I would look into it.  I went to the warehouse and Alex said you had taken off with Nadia and had left him in a difficult position.”  The sheriff wasn’t making excuses, just reporting the facts.

I hadn’t been thinking about Alex simply because I didn’t want to, not right then, but I was probably going to have to.  My first thought went to Nadia, who, by the time we realized that we might die, had all but signed his death warrant.  If she survived, she was going to kill him, and her brother, and her explicit description of how she was going to make them suffer made me shudder.

Charlene noticed.  “Again, I’m sorry, but we have to go through this.  What happened after you left the hut?  Take your time.  I know this might be painful, but it is necessary.”

Given what the sheriff just said, I had a feeling that implicating Alex wasn’t going to be easy.  Having a head start on us, he had time to get a story out there, and friends who would readily lie for them.

And Nadia being on the outside of her family, the Cossatinos would close ranks around Vince, and between Alex and Vince, refute any allegation I made, and quite possibly Nadia too.

It would be good to know what she was thinking.

“For whom?  Because from where I’m sitting, and judging by the expressions on your faces, I’m the one who’s in trouble here.”

“We just want the facts, Sam.”

“It seems to me you’ve already got them, and what I have to say, if there was anything to say, is irrelevant.  I don’t know anything about what happened to Boggs, and I’m not prepared to speculate.  I don’t know what Nadia told you, but I remember very little about what happened, except we were in a cave, and then I woke up here.”

It then occurred to me to look at my wrists, and there were only faint marks to show I’d been tied up.  I knew then someone had come back and untied us, so that if we hadn’t been found, our deaths would not be suspicious.

“We just want your side of the story.”

So the Benderby’s could refute it once the sheriff delivered my statement.

“You just got it.  If Nadia gave you hers, then that should be it.”

“Nadia won’t tell us anything, not even why she was in the cave.  It seems it was a place where pirates might once have visited, but except for a bundle of straw and an empty chest, there was nothing.”

And there it was.  The bodies had been removed, the crime scene cleansed, and we were simply trespassers the Cossatino’s could prosecute.

“Boggs had taken us spelunking, obviously in a place we shouldn’t, but I thought with Nadia coming with us, we didn’t need permission.  Perhaps the assumption was wrong.”

“Cossatino isn’t interested in charging anyone with anything.  He’s just happy we found his daughter.”

Pity the feeling between daughter and father wasn’t mutual.

“The good tidings abound.  Everyone is happy.”

“I’d still like to know why you were adamant Alex had something to do with the professor’s death.”

“I don’t.  I hate the bastard, it’s as simple as that.”

“We know the professor was killed at the mall, you got that right, and dumped on Rico’s boat, but there was no evidence Alex was there, or any safe, desk or anything except dust.”

Of course.  Alex had been on a massive clean-up exercise, just in case we survived.  It was going to be a very interesting first meeting when I saw him again.

“A good guess then.  I’m no longer interested in treasure, Boggs, God rest his soul, or anyone else for that matter.  Soon as you’re done with me, I’m gone, and you will never see me again.”

With that I rolled over to face the other way, the interview as far as I was concerned, done.

“This isn’t over Sam.”  Charlene was disappointed but she’d get over it. 

And my estimation of her just fell below zero.  It was clear Alex had got to her. And she believed his story.

Of course, I just realized what I’d said to my mother, and had to hope she didn’t repeat it.  But, knowing her affiliation with Benderby, I had no doubt she would tell him, so I could expect a visit from his lawyers, threatening all kinds of punitive action if I dared to repeat it.

As for Nadia, the fact she said nothing told me everything.  Both Alex and Vince were going to face a different type of justice, and I was going to ask her for an invitation.

…

© Charles Heath 2020-2022