Category: Thriller

“The Things we do for Love”, the story behind the story

This story has been ongoing since I was seventeen, and just to let you know, I’m 72 this year.

Yes, it’s taken a long time to get it done.

Why, you might ask.

Well, I never gave it much interest because I started writing it after a small incident when I was 17, and working as a book packer for a book distributor in Melbourne

At the end of my first year, at Christmas, the employer had a Christmas party, and that year, it was at a venue in St Kilda.

I wasn’t going to go because at that age, I was an ordinary boy who was very introverted and basically scared of his own shadow and terrified by girls.

Back then, I would cross the street to avoid them

Also, other members of the staff in the shipping department were rough and ready types who were not backwards in telling me what happened, and being naive, perhaps they knew I’d be either shocked or intrigued.

I was both adamant I wasn’t coming and then got roped in on a dare.

Damn!

So, back then, in the early 70s, people looked the other way when it came to drinking, and of course, Dutch courage always takes away the concerns, especially when normally you wouldn’t do half the stuff you wouldn’t in a million years

I made it to the end, not as drunk and stupid as I thought I might be, and St Kilda being a salacious place if you knew where to look, my new friends decided to give me a surprise.

It didn’t take long to realise these men were ‘men about town’ as they kept saying, and we went on an odyssey.  Yes, those backstreet brothels where one could, I was told, have anything they could imagine.

Let me tell you, large quantities of alcohol and imagination were a very bad mix.

So, the odyssey in ‘The things we do’ was based on that, and then the encounter with Diana. Well, let’s just say I learned a great deal about girls that night.

Firstly, not all girls are nasty and spiteful, which seemed to be the case whenever I met one. There was a way to approach, greet, talk to, and behave.

It was also true that I could have had anything I wanted, but I decided what was in my imagination could stay there.  She was amused that all I wanted was to talk, but it was my money, and I could spend it how I liked.

And like any 17-year-old naive fool, I fell in love with her and had all these foolish notions.  Months later, I went back, but she had moved on, to where no one was saying or knew.

Needless to say, I was heartbroken and had to get over that first loss, which, like any 17-year-old, was like the end of the world.

But it was the best hour I’d ever spent in my life and would remain so until I met the woman I have been married to for the last 48 years.

As Henry, he was in part based on a rebel, the son of rich parents who despised them and their wealth, and he used to regale anyone who would listen about how they had messed up his life

If only I’d come from such a background!

And yes, I was only a run away from climbing up the stairs to get on board a ship, acting as a purser.

I worked for a shipping company and they gave their junior staff members an opportunity to spend a year at sea working as a purser on a cargo ship that sailed between Melbourne, Sydney and Hobart in Australia.

One of the other junior staff members’ turn came, and I would visit him on board when he would tell me stories about life on board, the officers, the crew, and other events. These stories, which sounded incredible to someone so impressionable, were a delight to hear.

Alas, by that time, I had tired of office work and moved on to be a tradesman at the place where my father worked.

It proved to be the right move, as that is where I met my wife.  Diana had been right; love would find me when I least expected it.

…

lovecoverfinal1

A to Z – April – 2026 – Y

Y is for – You just never know what’s around the corner

…

Someone told me once that things happen for a reason.  I think it might have been my father when the life I had expected to spend with Nina didn’t happen.  Of course, he would add that at the time it was not apparent why, only after time had healed that wound, would you discover why.

Nina never told me why she left, and I never asked.  I simply assumed she didn’t like the city, or me, or both, and went home.

As for the promotion, I wanted to believe fate was telling me the company I chose to work for didn’t appreciate hard-working employees, and that it was time to move on.

Outside the door, looking back, I shrugged.  If anything, it had been a stepping stone to be chalked up to experience.  Right then, I had no idea how it would help me later, but there would be time for rumination.  Perhaps I would go home for a week or two, if only to regain my perspective.

I’d timed my meeting so that if it did or didn’t go south, I would be able to celebrate or commiserate at my favourite cafe not far from the office.  For the first time in years, I was not in a hurry and could amble along the sidewalk like a tourist rather than a harried employee, taking in everything I had missed.

When I reached the café, one of several, as well as bars, where I was almost persuaded to have something stronger than coffee, and going to open the door, my hand reached the handle at the same time as another. I stepped back, seeing it was a lady, and manners took over. When she turned to thank me, I saw it was Nina.

She also stepped back and smiled.  “Kevin.”

“Nina!”

I opened the door, she went through, and I followed.  We stepped up to the front desk together. 

“Are you here to meet someone?” I asked, still slightly awestruck that it was her.  Of all the places she could be…

“As it happens, yes.  You.  If you remember, we used to come here on a Thursday, which is today.  I hoped you would still come here.”

The girl came back to the desk after taking another couple to a table.

“Are you together?” She asked.

I looked at Nina.

“If you are not here to see someone else?” Nina said.

“I’m not.”

“Then,” the girl said, smiling, “You are together.  Follow me.”

We weaved between the tables to the back near the bar and sat at almost the same table we had sat the last time we had eaten there, the day Nina left to go home.

Drink order taken, she left us with menus.  I think we both knew what we were having.

“Remember that last lunch, nearly two years ago, you said that I should try the lobster and champagne.  It was very expensive, but you said it would be a perfect way to cap off what had been a wonderful two weeks.”

“Then we should have it again.”

Only this time, I would not suggest paying for it.  After some time to think about it, I could see why she didn’t like the idea of my paying for her.  I’d always believe it was my responsibility if I asked her, or anyone else, out and forgot that she lived in a different world from the one my parents expected me to live in.

The drinks arrived, and we ordered.

A few sips of the champagne and a few moments to discreetly observe her, I realised that she had changed not just her hairstyle, but just about everything else.  We had been younger then and in awe of everything the large city had to offer, and back then, it had intimidated her more than it had me.  She had not said specifically why she had gone back home, but I suspected it was homesickness, and not landing the job she had come to interview for.  I had more success, and though I had said she could stay with me, she believed that she had to stand on her own two feet.

From the monthly letters I received from my mother, first asking when I was going to find a nice girl and settle down, she would tell me the news from home, and invariably, a paragraph or two about Nina.

She had always liked Nine and had expected that we would end up together.  It was interesting that she had not married back home.  Certainly, there were several of the boys she had liked at school still available, and one in particular that I almost lost out to as my Prom date.

I suspect she had been observing me, too.  Mother would have told her that I was still unmarried, but would not have known the reason, other than that city girls were not likely to be interested in going back to my hometown.  I was not sure if I wanted to either.   If what my mother said was true, there were even fewer opportunities there than before I left.

I let her ask the first question.

“It’s a bit early for you to be coming out for lunch.  Problems at work?”

“No.  Just decided to clear my head.”

“How far up the ladder have you climbed.  I seem to remember you wanted to be one of the section managers by now.”

“It was one of my goals.”

“Not there yet?”

It was a simple question, but to me it was particularly pointed because when I thought about it, for the first time since I’d left the building, it seemed like it was always going to happen.  I realised then that I was not the sort of person who had that blind ambition to get to the top.

“No.”

Perhaps it was the time, or my demeanour, or something else that she picked up on.  Nina always had that instinct that could see through the wall I often put up to protect myself, especially when things got difficult.

She took my hand in hers and asked, softly, “What are you not telling me?  I know something is wrong, Kevin.  I know you.”

I shook my head.  “It doesn’t matter.”

“But it does.  I can feel it.  What happened at work?  It is work, isn’t it?”

I could spar with her, but in the end, she would get it out of me.  “I didn’t get the promotion I wanted.  The one I deserved.”

It was a bit presumptive, and maybe that had something to do with why I didn’t get it.  Or that I wasn’t willing to play the same game as the other candidates.

“So, where does that leave you?”

“Out of a job.  I resigned.  I couldn’t work for people who didn’t respect the time and effort I’ve put in over the last two years.”

“When?”

“This morning, just before I came here.  It’s why I’m early.  I was coming here to have a few drinks and contemplate what I was going to do.  To be honest, I’m glad you are here.  Now I don’t have to think about it.”

“Maybe, just maybe, my coming here was serendipitous.  Would you like to talk about it?”

“There’s not a lot to say.”

“Can you get another job? Do you want to do the same thing, or would you like to take a break?  Your mother laments the fact that you didn’t come home last Christmas and would like to see you.  I had hoped you would come home too, but I guessed you needed to consolidate your position at the company.  So much for rewarding dedication.”

My mother had more than hinted she wanted me to come home, if only for a few weeks, to sort out their affairs.  Dad wanted to retire, and let my older brother, Alfie, step up, but she said he had concerns that Alfie didn’t have the inclination to take over; he preferred to be one of the workers.  Susannah wanted to, but her marriage was falling apart, and the two young children needed her full attention.

The last letter had shifted the hinting to pleading, so perhaps the events at work had been part of a bigger plan that I had no control over.

But, aside from everything else, she was right.  Maybe it was time for me to take a hiatus from the plan and get my feet planted firmly back on the ground.  “You’ve probably just said what I was thinking.  With everything my mother tells me about Dad and the business, perhaps I should go home for a while.  Has it changed much?”

“As far as you and I are concerned, no.  The diner’s there, and Mary still waits tables, and Fred still can’t fry eggs properly.  Mr Halliday still runs the drug store, but his daughter helps in between college.  Our haunts have not been part of what the county calls urban renewal, even though our town could hardly be called urban.  Mum and Dad were glad I went home, because like all of the parents, they’re getting older.”

That was when the food came out, and it looked like a feast for the eyes as well as for the eating.  The conversation was just enough for me to seriously consider what I would do next.

What did interest me, and a point that had been carefully avoided, was why she had decided, now rather than any time in the past, to come visit.  Mother’s letter had not said it was specifically to see me, and the main reason anyone would come to the big city was for medical reasons.

I would wait until she told me, or if she didn’t, I would ask.

Lunch was a welcome diversion; I wouldn’t have thought of having Lobster and Champagne if she hadn’t been here, but it could only put off the inevitable for so long.

She could see I had something I wanted to say.  She had always known when, as she described it, I had a bee in my bonnet.  It was a quaint expression, but she had taken English Literature and was now the fountain of all things English.  It had been for another purpose, to aid in a writing career, and she had hoped to become a journalist at one of the prestigious city newspapers.  It hadn’t happened, but she did get a job back home at the local paper, a weekly digest of all things country.

When the lunch dishes had been removed and an apple pie was on order, she gave me one of those looks, the one that told me to fess up.

“You want to know the real reason I’m here, don’t you?”

“It crossed my mind.”

“I couldn’t come just to revisit and see how you were getting on?”

“It’s a long train ride.  I know you don’t like planes.”

“I could have changed.”

“Not that much.”

“You know if God wanted us to fly, he would have given us wings.”

Another saying, trotted out when I originally asked her to come with me, was almost across the whole continent.  Oddly, I liked the idea of taking the train, if only for the time it gave us to spend together.

“Where’s Icarus when you need him?”

She frowned, a prelude to a scowl.  I knew better than to push her.

“What if I said it was to come and see you, to find out if you were coming home in the near future?”

It was plausible, but why didn’t she tell my mother?  They were constantly talking.

“My mother just said you were coming to the city.  Not why.  I figured if you didn’t tell her, then it must be something serious.  You are not unwell, are you?”

“No.  I’ve been thinking about you a lot.  It’s one of those things where I had always imagined we would end up together.  You remember the pact we made on prom night, out the back, after a few drinks and how silly we were after one too many.  We promised each other that if we were not married at the end of the two years, we would find each other and have this conversation.”

To be honest, I had forgotten it.  It had been drunk, and when I went home afterwards, my father threatened to kill me, not because I was drunk, but because I was incapable of protecting Nina.  Responsibility, he said, was never, ever, to be taken for granted.

I learned from that mistake and never indulged to that extent again.

“I remember going home that night and my father completely losing it.  He expected more of me, so much so, I got to the point where I never thought I would ever live up to his expectations.”

“Alfie hasn’t, so don’t fret too much.  You got me home safely, and that was all that mattered.”

“Except if you had been in trouble, I would not have been much use.”

“Nothing happened, that was all that mattered.  However, not to get off track, though sometimes I believe you deliberately do it, it’s been two years.  You’re not married, and I’m not married, but Giles has asked me to marry him.”

“Westerby?”

She nodded.  “As you can imagine, my parents have been telling me I’m not getting any younger, and I should not wait for the man of my dreams to make up his mind.  Except, I really don’t want to marry Giles.  He’s a nice boy, but he’s too nice, no ambition, content to simply plod through life with two point four children, alternate Sunday lunches with family, and once a year camping vacation in Yellowstone with the rest of his family.  They’ve been doing the same thing for centuries.”

She sighed.  “Unless I get a better offer…My mother thinks I’m about to become an old maid left on the shelf and has been working her way through Oldbury County’s eligible bachelors.  Giles is the latest, and he’s keen.”

“Because no one else will take him.”

“Perhaps, but he can provide a girl a life of luxury to which she could become accustomed.”

“Is that what you want?”

“If there’s nothing else in the offing.  According to my mother, my childbearing days are rapidly diminishing.”

“You’re barely into your mid-20s.”

“You know, mother’s.  You also have one, and she longs to hold a grandchild, yours preferably, and more likely than one from your brothers.”  She shrugged.  “We could go home and pretend we’re engaged.  It’d solve the Giles problem, and we could string the engagement out for a few months and then let it fizzle.”

“Or we could just get married.  I mean, we always said we would.  If no one else wanted us, or at least had first right of refusal.”

“Would you still want to.  I mean, we were silly kids back then, all starry-eyed and full of impossible plans.”

“I meant it.  Didn’t you?”

“I did, but I never thought you’d remember.  I thought you were just saying what I wanted to hear.”

The fact I had forgotten about the pact was one thing, but I had never stopped loving her, not from the first time I saw her.  It was that proverbial, impossible, love at first sight.

“I loved you more than anything.  It broke my heart when you went home.”

“I had to.  I missed home too much.  You were the only one, and as you can see, I waited.  And then now I’m here giving you first right of refusal.”

“That sounds pretty awful, doesn’t it?”

“I can’t think of a better way of putting it.  You are my first and, to be truthful, only preference.  But, if you have had a change of heart…”

“I have not.  Let’s have apple pie and coffee to think about it, and if you still want to go through with it, we’ll go to Tiffany’s.  If we’re going to do this, let’s do it in style.” I took both her hands in mine.  “Oh, and just to be formal, will you marry me?”

“Fine.  I had hoped it might be more traditional, but yes.”

I kissed her hand.  “Excellent.  We will make a stop after going to Tiffany’s.  There’s a special spot in Central Park where I’m told you can propose.  We’ll get a horse and carriage and flowers.”

“And photographs.”  She smiled.

“And photographs.”

“You knew I was coming, didn’t you?”

“Yes, but not why.  It was my horoscope this morning, one that was too coincidental to not come true.  ‘An old friend will come back into your life, causing you to make a life-changing decision. 

In fact, I made three.  I quit my job, I decided to go home, and I proposed to and was accepted by the only girl I ever loved.  What more could any man ask for?”

The twinkle in her eyes told me there was a lot more than I could ever imagine.

…

©  Charles Heath 2025-2026

Skeletons in the closet, and doppelgangers

A story called “Mistaken Identity”

…

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

And a great idea for a story.

That story is called ‘Mistaken Identity’.

The cinema of my dreams – It all started in Venice – Episode 15

A note and an opinion

…

On the way back to the hotel I thought about the idea of killing the Frenchman and dumping his body in one of the back canals.

Of course, that was the sort of unsanctioned act that quite often brought down a well-planned operation and it would not be the first time for me if that happened now.

I tried not to think about that moment in history and to this day still couldn’t say why I did it beyond the fact the person annoyed me.  Those were young and brash days, long since gone from the repertoire.

Still, if he got in the way, or was going to compromise my plan he would have to go, and those back canals were begging for new prey.

When I finally returned to the hotel, it seemed almost stuffy in the small reception area, and the woman behind the counter nodded cursorily in my direction as I passed her heading for the stairs.

She was the sort of person who would miss nothing that happened in that hotel in or out of sight.

The elevator was old and tired, and I didn’t like to advertise arriving back on the floor where my room was located. Again, another memory of a bad experience involving an elevator has made me more wary since.

The stairs, in this instance, were well maintained, without the usual squeaks and groans susceptible to any other hotel.  The fact it was only a few floors and not twenty was also a selling point.

If Juliet was waiting she’d have to be in my doorway for me to fall over her, and as I took those last few steps before the landing, I wondered if Cecilia was back in my room’ waiting for me.

If she was, and Juliet arrived that might throw that proverbial car among the pigeons.

Neither were either waiting or in my room which oddly enough seemed disappointing.  Nor was anyone else who also brought up a memory or two that I’d rather forget. 

Experience was a cruel master.

I looked out the windows over the canal, still able to be surprised by the amount of activity on the water even for that hour of the night.

In a few hours, a whole new group of people would be about those behind the scenes, delivering all manner of goods and services in those early hours before a new day began.

Behind me, there was a very light knock on the door and I swiftly crossed the room and looked in the peep-hole.

Cecilia.

I opened the door and she slipped in before I’d even got it partially open.  She was in what I would call stealth mode.

“You’re up and about late?  Nothing on for tomorrow?”

She shrugged.  “Just the usual, so it’s unlikely they’ll miss me if I’m not there’ or late.  Besides, there’s a producer I keep running into that’s beginning to be annoying.”

“I can deal with him if you want me to?”

“I can deal with him myself.  No.  It’s your girlfriend whose supposedly not your girlfriend.”

“Juliet?  She’s not…”

“Of course not, just ragging you.  She’s suddenly all apologetic, telling me how sorry she was about being catty. Then giving me a hug that was quite unsettling.  Until I realised what she was doing.”

“Not making a pass I hope.”

“It wouldn’t be the first in the last day or so.  I must have that look, whatever that look is.  No.  She gave me this.”

Cecilia held up a small folded piece of paper.

“Did you read it?”

“Do I look like the sort who would read other people’s love letters?”

I took the piece of paper and unfolded it.

It said, and reading it aloud, “I believe you know why I’m here and I can tell you it’s not what I want.  I can’t discuss this with you otherwise he’ll know, so we need another way, perhaps through Cecilia. I’m supposed to deliver you in Sorrento, so we will need a plan to keep us both safe.  Sorry for dragging your friend into this.”

“Not a love letter then.”  She sounded disappointed.  “How could she possibly know that?”

“In trying to get Larry to do something in haste which he has, it was not without its risks.  She’s smart enough, given what she knew of me then, and that Larry has me in his sights, to realise it was not coincidental when I brought his name into the conversation.”

“Forcing an issue sometimes can have unintended consequences.”

“I didn’t want to drag it out for any of us.”

“Have you considered the possibility that this might be part of Larry’s plan, after all, he did tell her to get closer by any means possible.  How much closer could she get pretending to work with you?”

A plan I considered more plausible given the hold he had over her.  Alfie would have told me if such a conversation had taken place between them, but he hadn’t which meant it may have been before she embarked for Venice. 

It made sense, from his perspective and the hold he had over her.  Doing something as reckless on her part without his knowledge defied that threat, making it very difficult for me to believe it was a legitimate offer to help.

“What would you have thought if we didn’t know what we know?”

“It’s difficult to say since I’ve never been in that situation but first thought would be to considered it’s with the customary suspicion we have to view everything with.”

“Good answer.  You’ll be coming with me and lucky for you, you will not have to play nice.”

She smiled.  “At last a role I can get my teeth into.”

“We’ll go tomorrow, so be ready to leave.  I’m sure you’ll devise a good excuse for leaving early.  And watch your back tonight they might have a little surprise in store for you.”

“Not if I stay here.  I came prepared,” showing me her pyjamas under the gym wear.

I shrugged.  The room had two beds.  “Fine.”

© Charles Heath 2022

A to Z – April – 2026 – X

X is for – X Doesn’t mark the spot

…

The day he sold the house on Mulberry Lane where he had lain his head to sleep every night of his life was, he thought, the happiest he had ever been.

It was not as if it started out as a house of horrors; in fact, from the moment he could remember, about six or seven, it had been an idyllic refuge.  That was what his mother had told him, before he went to boarding school, before she remarried, before that man who told him the first day they met he was going to send him away, as far away as possible.

Those days before his world was turned upside down…

…

He stood in front of the cottage, now almost surrounded by the forest it had been nestled in.  He could just barely see the window on the second floor, a special room his first father had built into the roof, a room with a view of the valley and the small stream that ran through it, of the fields with the cattle and sheep, or crops, and then grass as far as they could see.

It was his playground to play hide and seek, to go down to the stream and swim on hot days in the summer or pretend that he was a pirate on the high seas.

And then after dinner, a story from his mother, he lay his head on the pillow and dreamed of the adventures he would have when he grew up.

Then, on a cold, stormy night, that world changed a little.  His father had been in an accident, and he was not coming home. It was just going to be them, and that life would not change.

For what seemed a long time, it didn’t.  Then another man came, a man who seemed to make his mother happy, but there was something about him.  He didn’t like him, and he soon discovered the man didn’t like him.

There was a wedding, and they went away, leaving him with his aunt, a rather severe woman who lived in Scotland, a long way away from his house in the forest.  He was there for what seemed a long time, then his mother returned alone and told him that his new father wanted to travel, and that she was going to travel with him, and he would be going to a special school for children with parents who travelled.

He asked why he couldn’t go with them, but she said that he was better off in the special school.  He would live there and get a special education, one that, if he stayed with them, he wouldn’t.  Then, as suddenly as she appeared, she was gone.

…

He did not know that it would be the last time he would see her.  He did not know that his mother had left responsibility for him with his aunt.  He was upset when she didn’t visit him at the school or come to get him during the holidays.  Those times he went to Scotland to stay with his aunt.

He did not know until he left the school that his mother had died that first year in boarding school, or that his new father had murdered her and stolen her fortune and his inheritance.

And now, standing in front of that house where he had been happiest, he tried very hard to remember his father and his mother, but not remember either of them.  Only that horrid man who had stolen everything from them.

That man he had buried at the back of the house, down the bottom of a well that no one would even find.

He spent six years tracking him down, and when he made an appointment to see him, the man had not recognised him.  It took a week to assume his identity and take everything back.  What was left of the fortune, the inheritance which hadn’t been touched, and the house which he discovered the man had not visited or maintained.  The man had perpetrated the same evil on a dozen other women, and he took all of that, too.

Then he told the man what he’d done and told him if he wanted it back to come to the cottage in the forest.  He was surprised the man agreed.

He had advertised the property and had a single buyer contact him.  The original owner of the property.  The offer was acceptable, they shook hands on the deal, and after a final look, and a lot of memories returning briefly, he left.

Those memories were of his childhood, and now that chapter had closed, he could finally get on with his life.

…

©  Charles Heath 2025-2026

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

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

…

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

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

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

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

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

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

newdevilcvr6

A to Z – April – 2026 – X

X is for – X Doesn’t mark the spot

…

The day he sold the house on Mulberry Lane where he had lain his head to sleep every night of his life was, he thought, the happiest he had ever been.

It was not as if it started out as a house of horrors; in fact, from the moment he could remember, about six or seven, it had been an idyllic refuge.  That was what his mother had told him, before he went to boarding school, before she remarried, before that man who told him the first day they met he was going to send him away, as far away as possible.

Those days before his world was turned upside down…

…

He stood in front of the cottage, now almost surrounded by the forest it had been nestled in.  He could just barely see the window on the second floor, a special room his first father had built into the roof, a room with a view of the valley and the small stream that ran through it, of the fields with the cattle and sheep, or crops, and then grass as far as they could see.

It was his playground to play hide and seek, to go down to the stream and swim on hot days in the summer or pretend that he was a pirate on the high seas.

And then after dinner, a story from his mother, he lay his head on the pillow and dreamed of the adventures he would have when he grew up.

Then, on a cold, stormy night, that world changed a little.  His father had been in an accident, and he was not coming home. It was just going to be them, and that life would not change.

For what seemed a long time, it didn’t.  Then another man came, a man who seemed to make his mother happy, but there was something about him.  He didn’t like him, and he soon discovered the man didn’t like him.

There was a wedding, and they went away, leaving him with his aunt, a rather severe woman who lived in Scotland, a long way away from his house in the forest.  He was there for what seemed a long time, then his mother returned alone and told him that his new father wanted to travel, and that she was going to travel with him, and he would be going to a special school for children with parents who travelled.

He asked why he couldn’t go with them, but she said that he was better off in the special school.  He would live there and get a special education, one that, if he stayed with them, he wouldn’t.  Then, as suddenly as she appeared, she was gone.

…

He did not know that it would be the last time he would see her.  He did not know that his mother had left responsibility for him with his aunt.  He was upset when she didn’t visit him at the school or come to get him during the holidays.  Those times he went to Scotland to stay with his aunt.

He did not know until he left the school that his mother had died that first year in boarding school, or that his new father had murdered her and stolen her fortune and his inheritance.

And now, standing in front of that house where he had been happiest, he tried very hard to remember his father and his mother, but not remember either of them.  Only that horrid man who had stolen everything from them.

That man he had buried at the back of the house, down the bottom of a well that no one would even find.

He spent six years tracking him down, and when he made an appointment to see him, the man had not recognised him.  It took a week to assume his identity and take everything back.  What was left of the fortune, the inheritance which hadn’t been touched, and the house which he discovered the man had not visited or maintained.  The man had perpetrated the same evil on a dozen other women, and he took all of that, too.

Then he told the man what he’d done and told him if he wanted it back to come to the cottage in the forest.  He was surprised the man agreed.

He had advertised the property and had a single buyer contact him.  The original owner of the property.  The offer was acceptable, they shook hands on the deal, and after a final look, and a lot of memories returning briefly, he left.

Those memories were of his childhood, and now that chapter had closed, he could finally get on with his life.

…

©  Charles Heath 2025-2026

Another excerpt from “Strangers We’ve Become” – A sequel to ‘What Sets Us Apart’

…

It was the first time in almost a week that I made the short walk to the cafe alone.  It was early, and the chill of the morning was still in the air.  In summer, it was the best time of the day.  When Susan came with me, it was usually much later, when the day was much warmer and less tolerable.

On the morning of the third day of her visit, Susan said she was missing the hustle and bustle of London, and by the end of the fourth she said, in not so many words, she was over being away from ‘civilisation’.  This was a side of her I had not seen before, and it surprised me.

She hadn’t complained, but it was making her irritable.  The Susan that morning was vastly different to the Susan on the first day.  So much, I thought, for her wanting to ‘reconnect’, the word she had used as the reason for coming to Greve unannounced.

It was also the first morning I had time to reflect on her visit and what my feelings were towards her.  It was the reason I’d come to Greve: to soak up the peace and quiet and think about what I was going to do with the rest of my life.

I sat in my usual corner.  Maria, one of two waitresses, came out, stopped, and there was no mistaking the relief in her manner.  There was an air of tension between Susan and Maria I didn’t understand, and it seemed to emanate from Susan rather than the other way around.  I could understand her attitude if it was towards Alisha, but not Maria.  All she did was serve coffee and cake.

When Maria recovered from the momentary surprise, she said, smiling, “You are by yourself?”  She gave a quick glance in the direction of my villa, just to be sure.

“I am this morning.  I’m afraid the heat, for one who is not used to it, can be quite debilitating.  I’m also afraid it has had a bad effect on her manners, for which I apologise.  I cannot explain why she has been so rude to you.”

“You do not have to apologise for her, David, but it is of no consequence to me.  I have had a lot worse.  I think she is simply jealous.”

It had crossed my mind, but there was no reason for her to be.  “Why?”

“She is a woman, I am a woman, she thinks because you and I are friends, there is something between us.”

It made sense, even if it was not true.  “Perhaps if I explained…”

Maria shook her head.  “If there is a hole in the boat, you should not keep bailing but try to plug the hole.  My grandfather had many expressions, David.  If I may give you one piece of advice, as much as it is none of my business, you need to make your feelings known, and if they are not as they once were, and I think they are not, you need to tell her.  Before she goes home.”

Interesting advice.  Not only a purveyor of excellent coffee, but Maria was also a psychiatrist who had astutely worked out my dilemma.  What was that expression, ‘not just a pretty face’?

“Is she leaving soon?” I asked, thinking Maria knew more about Susan’s movements than I did.

“You would disappoint me if you had not suspected as much.  Susan was having coffee and talking to someone in her office on a cell phone.  It was an intense conversation.  I should not eavesdrop, but she said being here was like being stuck in hell.  It is a pity she does not share your love for our little piece of paradise, is it not?”

“It is indeed.  And you’re right.  She said she didn’t have a phone, but I know she has one.  She just doesn’t value the idea of getting away from the office.  Perhaps her role doesn’t afford her that luxury.”

And perhaps Alisha was right about Maria, that I should be more careful.  She had liked Maria the moment she saw her.  We had sat at this very table, the first day I arrived.  I would have travelled alone, but Prendergast, my old boss, liked to know where ex-employees of the Department were, and what they were doing.

She sighed.  “I am glad I am just a waitress.  Your usual coffee and cake?”

“Yes, please.”

Several months had passed since we had rescued Susan from her despotic father; she had recovered faster than we had thought, and settled into her role as the new Lady Featherington, though she preferred not to use that title, but go by the name of Lady Susan Cheney.

I didn’t get to be a Lord, or have any title, not that I was expecting one.  What I had expected was that Susan, once she found her footing as head of what seemed to be a commercial empire, would not have time for details like husbands, particularly when our agreement made before the wedding gave either of us the right to end it.

There was a moment when I visited her recovering in the hospital, where I was going to give her the out, but I didn’t, and she had not invoked it.  We were still married, just not living together.

This visit was one where she wanted to ‘reconnect’ as she called it, and invite me to come home with her.  She saw no reason why we could not resume our relationship, conveniently forgetting she indirectly had me arrested for her murder, charges both her mother and Lucy vigorously pursued, and had the clone not returned to save me, I might still be in jail.

It was not something I would forgive or forget any time soon.

There were other reasons why I was reluctant to stay with her, like forgetting small details, an irregularity in her character I found odd.  She looked the same, she sounded the same, she basically acted the same, but my mind was telling me something was not right.  It was not the Susan I first met, even allowing for the ordeal she had been subjected to.

But, despite those misgivings, there was no question in my mind that I still loved her, and her clandestine arrival had brought back all those feelings.  But as the days passed, I began to get the impression my feelings were one-sided and she was just going through the motions.

Which brought me to the last argument, earlier, where I said if I went with her, it would be business meetings, social obligations, and quite simply her ‘celebrity’ status that would keep us apart.  I reminded her that I had said from the outset I didn’t like the idea of being in the spotlight, and when I reiterated it, she simply brushed it off as just part of the job, adding rather strangely that I always looked good in a suit.  The flippancy of that comment was the last straw, and I left before I said something I would regret.

I knew I was not a priority.  Maybe somewhere inside me, I had wanted to be a priority, and I was disappointed when I was not.

And finally, there was Alisha.  Susan, at the height of the argument, had intimated she believed I had an affair with her, but that elephant was always in the room whenever Alisha was around.  It was no surprise when I learned Susan had asked Prendergast to reassign her to other duties. 

At least I knew what my feelings for Alisha were, and there were times when I had to remember she was persona non grata.  Perhaps that was why Susan had her banished, but, again, a small detail; jealousy was not one of Susan’s traits when I first knew her.

Perhaps it was time to set Susan free.

When I swung around to look in the direction of the lane where my villa was, I saw Susan.  She was formally dressed, not in her ‘tourist’ clothes, which she had bought from one of the local clothing stores.  We had fun that day, shopping for clothes, a chore I’d always hated.  It had been followed by a leisurely lunch, lots of wine and soul searching.

It was the reason why I sat in this corner; old habits die hard.  I could see trouble coming from all directions, not that Susan was trouble or at least I hoped not, but it allowed me the time to watch her walking towards the cafe in what appeared to be short, angry steps; perhaps the culmination of the heat wave and our last argument.

She glared at me as she sat, dropping her bag beside her on the ground, where I could see the cell phone sitting on top.  She followed my glance down, and then she looked unrepentant back at me.

Maria came back at the exact moment she was going to speak.  I noticed Maria hesitate for a second when she saw Susan, then put her smile in place to deliver my coffee.

Neither spoke nor looked at each other.  I said, “Susan will have what I’m having, thanks.”

Maria nodded and left.

“Now,” I said, leaning back in my seat, “I’m sure there’s a perfectly good explanation as to why you didn’t tell me about the phone, but that first time you disappeared, I’d guessed you needed to keep in touch with your business interests.  I thought it somewhat unwisethat you should come out when the board of one of your companies was trying to remove you, because of what was it, an unexplained absence?  All you had to do was tell me there were problems and you needed to remain at home to resolve them.”

My comment elicited a sideways look, with a touch of surprise.

“It was unfortunate timing on their behalf, and I didn’t want you to think everything else was more important than us.  There were issues before I came, and I thought the people at home would be able to manage without me for at least a week, but I was wrong.”

“Why come at all.  A phone call would have sufficed.”

“I had to see you, talk to you.  At least we have had a chance to do that.  I’m sorry about yesterday.  I once told you I would not become my mother, but I’m afraid I sounded just like her.  I misjudged just how much this role would affect me, and truly, I’m sorry.”

An apology was the last thing I expected.

“You have a lot of work to do catching up after being away, and of course, in replacing your mother and gaining the requisite respect as the new Lady Featherington.  I think it would be for the best if I were not another distraction.  We have plenty of time to reacquaint ourselves when you get past all these teething issues.”

“You’re not coming with me?”  She sounded disappointed.

“I think it would be for the best if I didn’t.”

“Why?”

“It should come as no surprise to you that I’ve been keeping an eye on your progress.  You are so much better doing your job without me.  I told your mother once that when the time came I would not like the responsibilities of being your husband.  Now that I have seen what it could possibly entail, I like it even less.  You might also want to reconsider our arrangement, after all, we only had a marriage of convenience, and now that those obligations have been fulfilled, we both have the option of terminating it.  I won’t make things difficult for you if that’s what you want.”

It was yet another anomaly, I thought; she should look distressed, and I would raise the matter of that arrangement.  Perhaps she had forgotten the finer points.  I, on the other hand, had always known we would not last forever.  The perplexed expression, to me, was a sign she might have forgotten.

Then, her expression changed.  “Is that what you want?”

“I wasn’t madly in love with you when we made that arrangement, so it was easy to agree to your terms, but inexplicably, since then, my feelings for you changed, and I would be sad if we parted ways.  But the truth is, I can’t see how this is going to work.”

“In saying that, do you think I don’t care for you?”

That was exactly what I was thinking, but I wasn’t going to voice that opinion out loud.  “You spent a lot of time finding new ways to make my life miserable, Susan.  You and that wretched friend of yours, Lucy.  While your attitude improved after we were married, that was because you were going to use me when you went to see your father, and then almost let me go to prison for your murder.”

“I had nothing to do with that, other than to leave, and I didn’t agree with Lucy that you should be made responsible for my disappearance.  I cannot be held responsible for the actions of my mother.  She hated you; Lucy didn’t understand you, and Millie told me I was stupid for not loving you in return, and she was right.  Why do you think I gave you such a hard time?  You made it impossible not to fall in love with you, and it nearly changed my mind about everything I’d been planning so meticulously.  But perhaps there was a more subliminal reason why I did because after I left, I wanted to believe, if anything went wrong, you would come and find me.”

“How could you possibly know that I’d even consider doing something like that, given what you knew about me?”

“Prendergast made a passing comment when my mother asked him about you; he told us you were very good at finding people and even better at fixing problems.”

“And yet here we are, one argument away from ending it.”

I could see Maria hovering, waiting for the right moment to deliver her coffee, then go back and find Gianna, the café owner, instead.  Gianna was more abrupt and, for that reason, was rarely seen serving the customers.  Today, she was particularly cantankerous, banging the cake dish on the table and frowning at Susan before returning to her kitchen.  Gianna didn’t like Susan either.

Behind me, I heard a car stop, and when she looked up, I knew it was for her.  She had arrived with nothing, and she was leaving with nothing.

She stood.  “Last chance.”

“Forever?”

She hesitated and then shook away the look of annoyance on her face.  “Of course not.  I wanted you to come back with me so we could continue working on our relationship.  I agree there are problems, but it’s nothing we can’t resolve if we try.”

I had been trying.  “It’s too soon for both of us, Susan.  I need to be able to trust you, and given the circumstances, and all that water under the bridge, I’m not sure if I can yet.”

She frowned at me.  “As you wish.”  She took an envelope out of her bag and put it on the table.  “When you are ready, it’s an open ticket home.  Please make it sooner rather than later.  Despite what you think of me, I have missed you, and I have no intention of ending it between us.”

That said, she glared at me for a minute, shook her head, then walked to the car.  I watched her get in and the car drive slowly away.

No kiss, no touch, no looking back. 

…

© Charles Heath 2018-2025

strangerscover9

An excerpt from “If Only” – a work in progress

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 neighbours 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 time I saw Gabrielle.

The shock of finding Vanessa was more devastating than the fact that 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 that 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 that 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 became 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 other 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 realise 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

The cinema of my dreams – It all started in Venice – Episode 14

Larry has a plan

…

I watched Juliet head back towards the hotel, joining the throng of tourists out walking in the refreshing night air before going back to their hotels.

The walk along the grand canal was particularly good and I’d taken it more than once over the years.  Perhaps I would again, tonight, before retiring to contemplate the next move in what was becoming a chess game.

Why had Larry decided after all this time to come after me?  And why the softly softly approach?  In bringing up Kerry’s mother in the conversation, it gave me the idea that perhaps I could ask her.

Of course given the fractious nature of the relationship between her and her son she might not know, but it was worth calling her if only to touch base after so long.  I was sure she would know about what happened to Violetta and understand.

Just before she disappeared from sight I could see her answering a call on her cell phone.  No doubt Larry was looking for more information after the revelations she had relayed to him.

Doing what I had was the equivalent of a double-edged sword, as the saying goes.  On the one hand, he might consider her had the advantage of knowing when and where I was going, but on the other, I knew he would be waiting, and therefore be prepared, though often preparation counted for nothing with unpredictable people like him.

Still, it was done now.  It also threw up another interesting sidebar, that Juliet didn’t like Cecilia if only for the reason she was with me.  Was it jealousy?  Surely she could not still have any feelings for me after all this time, and what she had gone through?

But, in normal circumstances, had she not been involved in this charade, and I had accidentally run into her in the street, what might my feelings be?  They had been all over the place that last time, following a near-death experience, and when my service was in its infancy.  It was a time when a lot of young agents got caught up in the euphoria of action, and some made fatal mistakes.

I had used one of my nine lives then, and several more since, before retiring.  I had never intended to return, but circumstances change, and whatever I may have wanted might have to take a back seat until this matter was sorted.  Then Rodby would make his play, as he always had, citing the losing battle we faced without people like me steering the ship in the right direction.

He was great with analogies, and praise, and putting you in a position where saying no was almost a crime against the state.  A bridge I would have to cross eventually.

The restaurant was closing for the night and a waiter came to gently tell us to leave.  It wasn’t late, but it was time to go.

I didn’t get far before a message appeared on my phone, a rendezvous outside the Doges Palace.  Alfie no doubt had the gist of the incoming call Juliet received not a half-hour before.

He was loitering inconspicuously when I found him, pretending to have an animated conversation with someone on the other end of his cell phone, speaking and gesturing as all Italians seemed to do.

He waved when he saw me, then wound up the fictitious call.

“Perhaps you should also be in the movies.  That was a very eloquent performance.”

He smiled.  “It wouldn’t fool too many people.”

“Is this about Juliet’s call?”

He looked surprised.

“I saw her get a call after she left me to go back to the hotel.”

“Of course.  And, yes.  He seems very upset you called him a moron.”

“If the shoe fits…  Don’t tell me he rang her just to vent over me calling him names.”

“No.  Just to tell her where and when she had to take you to your impending doom.  Seems the wait is over, and since you announced you’re going to visit his mother, he thought it was a perfect opportunity.”

I thought later, after I mentioned it, that it might present him with the means, and to use Juliet of who I would not suspect of luring me into a trap.  It was, in a way, on his part, very clever.

“What was her response?”

“A few choices words, and the fact she was not that close she could make such a request.”

“And let me guess, if she wants to see her brother again, come up with a plan?”

“More or less.  Do you really want to do this, this way?”

“Forewarned is forearmed.  It’s better than going in blind.  Is Cecilia a trained sniper?”

Many years ago Rodby insisted all his agents be trained to the highest proficiency in using a wide variety of guns.  I was in the first intake to benefit, and I had to say, sniper work was the best.

“She is.”

“Then I’ll talk to her. And get her there ahead of time, you too if possible, unless your operating Rodby’s chessboard in Italy.”

“No, I can take time out.  But I insist we have a solid plan before doing this.  No ad hoc, spur-of-the-moment stuff that Rodby tells me you’re famous for.”

Sometimes it was the only way, because the more people who knew, the less chance of success, particularly if there was a foreign mole in your midst.

“You’ll know everything as soon as I do.  Trust me.”

His look told me she did everything but trust me.  “You think you might get a visit in the night?”

“Should I sleep with Cecilia just to make it more interesting?”

“She’s not your personal toy to play with.”

“Wasn’t going to.  It’s just to make Juliet edgier, which, if she saw Cecilia in her pajamas, might push a button and catches her off guard.”

“It’s your call.  Let me know when the plan is set.”

Another thought came to mind, something I’d been thinking about.  “We don’t know where Larry has the bother holed up?  As I understand it, his on a video link so it’s not out in the wide-open spaces.”

“Not at the moment, but we’re working on it.  If it’s relevant I’ll let you know.  It would give us an advantage if we had him, but at the moment, it’s not on the table.  If and when you meet up with  Larry, he will be asking you a lot of questions.

And, as if he hadn’t been there at all, he was gone.  What was worrying was the reappearance of the Frenchman, nearby, and it was clear he had been following either me or Juliet.  There was no doubt he’d seen me with Alfie, but since the whole conversation had been conducted in Italian, it was hard to tell what he would have made of it.

Time would tell.  I would take a walk, consider the options and then go back to the hotel.

© Charles Heath 2022