Aftermath of a kidnapping

…

“You knew what was going to happen?”

“Of course.  Did you think you were dealing with rank amateurs?”

“Maybe my boss did.  Who are you two really?”

“We’re the sort of people who kill people like you, then go down the pub and have a few pints and laugh about it.”  It was almost a treat to see Cecelia acting so cavalier.

I glanced up at her, and her expression told me this was just another role, she was playing the bitch from hell.  And so much more dripping venom than Anna would ever muster.

That statement, of course, delivered in the deadpan voice of a deranged killer had the desired effect.  Francesca was suitably frightened.

“It was not my idea.  I just do as I’m told.”

“That’s what the Germans said at the Nuremberg trials.  Didn’t save there for being shot or hug or whatever.  Can I shoot her now?”  I almost laughed at the sincerity.

Francesca looked at me.  “You only told me because you knew what I’d do?  I told you who we were working for?”

“Who your boss told you to tell me.  Now we’re going to find out the truth.  I hope he told you the truth because if he didn’t, he isn’t going to be your boss for much longer.”

“Finally,” Cecelia sighed.

I almost laughed.  She was playing the role too well.

Alfie’s voice returned.  “What were you expecting?”

“Another party stepping in the rescue the countess.”

“How…”

“She can’t afford to have Anna find out who she really is.  Not yet.  Not until it is fait accompli/”

“When were you going to tell me?”

“At the appropriate time, which is now.  Let it go for now.  I know who’s got her.  And I know where she will go though not the exact location yet.  We have more work to do.”

“Who are you talking to?” Francesca asked.

“I have a plethora of friends Francesca, a plethora of friends.”

What happened next was like watching a bad stage play unfold in an unexpected manner.

Vittoria decided to turn up after the party had ended.

Seeing the door half open she blundered in and ended up with Cecelia’s gun in the back of her head, the door closing, and Francesca slowly getting back up off the floor.

Cecelia told Vittoria to walk slowly into the room and not try anything.  Vittoria was smart.  She did as she was told.

Francesca did the same.  She knew she had to humour me.  Then her phone rang.

“That will be your boss.  Answer it on speaker.”

She pulled it out of her bag and did as she was told.

“Sir.”

“What the hell is going on?”

I decided to answer that question for her.  “I might ask the same of you.  Had you just simply come and asked me, we could have sorted this out together, but no, you had to do it your way.  Now you have nothing.”

“Neither have you.”

“No.  What happened was exactly what I wanted to happen.  It gave me three valuable pieces of information.  Now you get nothing.  Go back to Rome and leave the professionals to get this done.  I am keeping Francesca with me.  She is the one concession I’m granting you.”

“That’s not how this works.”

“Then you will have to explain to her family how you got her killed because unless you agree, she will not leave this room alive.  Make up your mind.  My assistant has no patience and an itchy trigger finger.”

I counted to ten under my breath.  Francesca was getting more terrified by the minute.

“This is not acceptable, but I agree, only under extreme duress.  If anything happens to her, I will hold you personally responsible.”

“Agreed.  She will keep you posted.”

Francesca disconnected the call.

“It was a good job while it lasted,” she muttered.

“You’re a private detective and an art historian.  I’m not sure which day job you should not give up, but you can do better.  Now, enough retrospection.  We have work to do, and more feet on the ground.  Alfie, back to our hotel for a meeting.”

I heard him mutter, so I took that to mean he would be there soon.

In all the excitement I had forgotten about Juliet, and when I looked over to where she had been standing, near the countess before they took her, I saw her on the ground, just moving.

I went to her and knelt down to check on her head.

There was a bloody gash on the back of it, and it appeared one of the intruders had hit her.  Then I realised that I had seen her try to grab the countess back from one of the intruders and the other hit her with the butt of his gun.

She turned her head and looked at me with glassy eyes.  “What happened?”

“You tried to be brave, and as the saying goes, no good deed goes unpunished.”

“And a lot of good that did.  She’s not here.”  That was the result of her quick search.

“Never take on impossible odds.  Bad for your health.  Stay there and I’ll get a wet cloth.  You’re going to have a bad headache for a while.”

Vittoria had taken in the scene, seen her daughter, and yet it was me who got to her first to help.  It only reinforced my assumption about her.  No one could be that callous towards their daughter.

“Where’s the countess?” she asked, finally realising she was not there.

“Masked gunmen took her away,” I said.  “I believe they were taking her to Anna Von Burkehardt.  That’s going to be some reunion, don’t you think?”

The look on her face was priceless.

© Charles Heath 2023

Aftermath of a kidnapping

…

“You knew what was going to happen?”

“Of course.  Did you think you were dealing with rank amateurs?”

“Maybe my boss did.  Who are you two really?”

“We’re the sort of people who kill people like you, then go down the pub and have a few pints and laugh about it.”  It was almost a treat to see Cecelia acting so cavalier.

I glanced up at her, and her expression told me this was just another role, she was playing the bitch from hell.  And so much more dripping venom than Anna would ever muster.

That statement, of course, delivered in the deadpan voice of a deranged killer had the desired effect.  Francesca was suitably frightened.

“It was not my idea.  I just do as I’m told.”

“That’s what the Germans said at the Nuremberg trials.  Didn’t save there for being shot or hug or whatever.  Can I shoot her now?”  I almost laughed at the sincerity.

Francesca looked at me.  “You only told me because you knew what I’d do?  I told you who we were working for?”

“Who your boss told you to tell me.  Now we’re going to find out the truth.  I hope he told you the truth because if he didn’t, he isn’t going to be your boss for much longer.”

“Finally,” Cecelia sighed.

I almost laughed.  She was playing the role too well.

Alfie’s voice returned.  “What were you expecting?”

“Another party stepping in the rescue the countess.”

“How…”

“She can’t afford to have Anna find out who she really is.  Not yet.  Not until it is fait accompli/”

“When were you going to tell me?”

“At the appropriate time, which is now.  Let it go for now.  I know who’s got her.  And I know where she will go though not the exact location yet.  We have more work to do.”

“Who are you talking to?” Francesca asked.

“I have a plethora of friends Francesca, a plethora of friends.”

What happened next was like watching a bad stage play unfold in an unexpected manner.

Vittoria decided to turn up after the party had ended.

Seeing the door half open she blundered in and ended up with Cecelia’s gun in the back of her head, the door closing, and Francesca slowly getting back up off the floor.

Cecelia told Vittoria to walk slowly into the room and not try anything.  Vittoria was smart.  She did as she was told.

Francesca did the same.  She knew she had to humour me.  Then her phone rang.

“That will be your boss.  Answer it on speaker.”

She pulled it out of her bag and did as she was told.

“Sir.”

“What the hell is going on?”

I decided to answer that question for her.  “I might ask the same of you.  Had you just simply come and asked me, we could have sorted this out together, but no, you had to do it your way.  Now you have nothing.”

“Neither have you.”

“No.  What happened was exactly what I wanted to happen.  It gave me three valuable pieces of information.  Now you get nothing.  Go back to Rome and leave the professionals to get this done.  I am keeping Francesca with me.  She is the one concession I’m granting you.”

“That’s not how this works.”

“Then you will have to explain to her family how you got her killed because unless you agree, she will not leave this room alive.  Make up your mind.  My assistant has no patience and an itchy trigger finger.”

I counted to ten under my breath.  Francesca was getting more terrified by the minute.

“This is not acceptable, but I agree, only under extreme duress.  If anything happens to her, I will hold you personally responsible.”

“Agreed.  She will keep you posted.”

Francesca disconnected the call.

“It was a good job while it lasted,” she muttered.

“You’re a private detective and an art historian.  I’m not sure which day job you should not give up, but you can do better.  Now, enough retrospection.  We have work to do, and more feet on the ground.  Alfie, back to our hotel for a meeting.”

I heard him mutter, so I took that to mean he would be there soon.

In all the excitement I had forgotten about Juliet, and when I looked over to where she had been standing, near the countess before they took her, I saw her on the ground, just moving.

I went to her and knelt down to check on her head.

There was a bloody gash on the back of it, and it appeared one of the intruders had hit her.  Then I realised that I had seen her try to grab the countess back from one of the intruders and the other hit her with the butt of his gun.

She turned her head and looked at me with glassy eyes.  “What happened?”

“You tried to be brave, and as the saying goes, no good deed goes unpunished.”

“And a lot of good that did.  She’s not here.”  That was the result of her quick search.

“Never take on impossible odds.  Bad for your health.  Stay there and I’ll get a wet cloth.  You’re going to have a bad headache for a while.”

Vittoria had taken in the scene, seen her daughter, and yet it was me who got to her first to help.  It only reinforced my assumption about her.  No one could be that callous towards their daughter.

“Where’s the countess?” she asked, finally realising she was not there.

“Masked gunmen took her away,” I said.  “I believe they were taking her to Anna Von Burkehardt.  That’s going to be some reunion, don’t you think?”

The look on her face was priceless.

© Charles Heath 2023

One less enemy to worry about

…

There was no doubt at that point that Vittoria and the fake countess were working together, and Vittoria knew who she was.

I helped Juliet sit up against the wall and fetched her a wet towel to put on the back of her head.  After a minute or so she seemed better.

“Did you know the countess wasn’t the countess?” I asked her.

“I just did as I was told.  I think we’re both being used in one way or another, Evan.”

I was beginning to think that too.

Vittoria, of course, had to protest, “What do you mean the countess is a fake.  She is not.  If anyone would know it would be me.”

“Can I shoot her now?” Cecelia asked.

“Do something with her, but don’t leave a mess.”

Cecelia hit her with the gun butt, and she slid to the floor, unconscious.  She was not going to be of any use to us, so it would be a call to Alfie to get the cleaners.

“What the hell was that for?” Juliet was upset.

“Did you go to a farm when Vittoria and the fake Countess went to talk to a man called Dicostini?  Think long and hard before you answer.”

She did.  “I can’t say for sure, I was told to stay in the car.”

“At a farm, another vineyard?”

“Yes.”

“Why do you think they made you stay in the car?”

Another moment to consider the question.  It wasn’t hard, even for her.  So I couldn’t tell you who it was we saw.  They didn’t trust me.  It seems everyone I meet or know doesn’t trust me.”

“Do you honestly think that woman is your mother?”

“Honestly?  No.”

“Well, I don’t think she is either, but I’ve got people working on it.  And, like it or not, you’re working with us now.  Please don’t let me down.”

She sat there for a few seconds or perhaps it was a minute, during which I found I was holding one of her hands.  It was an odd feeling that went through me.

Not the time to get distracted.

“Why are you giving me a chance?”

“Let’s just say I’m hoping you’ll find a way to redeem yourself before I have to hand you over to the authorities.”

“And if I do?”

“I might give you a ten-minute head start.”

I tied up Vittoria so she couldn’t get free or make a noise, then called Alfie and told him we had a package to pick up.

Cecelia tidied up the room so it wouldn’t look like there’d been a kidnapping, and then we put Vittoria in one of the beds and set her out like she was asleep/

If the housemaids came they’d be none the wiser.

Juliet recovered and I cleaned the wound.

It was then she worked it out.  “So, if that other countess was fake, where’s the real countess?”

“Being held where you went yesterday, or another place owned by that man.”

“When did you make this discovery?”

“After speaking to Anna.  She doesn’t know the real countess is missing, nor does anyone else know there is another person also missing, which is basically why Cecelia and I are here.”

“What do expect me to do?”

“Help me find them.  There will be two teams and a few properties to search.  And now that we’re finished here, we’re leaving.”

I helped her to her feet.  “Can you walk?”

“I got hit on the head, not shot in the leg.”  She sounded a little annoyed.  I was not surprised.

“Good.  Save that anger you’re feeling.  You’re going to need it.”

© Charles Heath 2023

A story called “Mistaken Identity”

…

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

And a great idea for a story.

That story is called ‘Mistaken Identity’.

It goes exactly as planned

…

We were monitored from the moment we left the hotel.  Cecelia had taken up her vantage point, and watched as we came out the front door.  Two minutes later she said, quietly, “You’ve got two, man and woman.  The woman is in communication with someone.  Be careful.”

Francesca didn’t seem to have a care in the world.  I suspected she had her phone on so those following us could keep track of when they lost us, but I wouldn’t be dodging and weaving this morning.

“What do you think our chances are of getting snatched off the street in a white van,” I asked her, after about 10 minutes.

“Why?”

“I’ve seen a few.  Of course, they might just be delivery vans, and white is a common colour.  Perhaps I’m just being paranoid.”

“Perhaps you are.”  She gave me a curious look, enough to make me think she might think there might be trouble.

“What happened to Cecelia?”

Juliet was outside the hotel, coming back from a café not far up the road.  I noted she had not bought coffee for the other two women.

“Out on a run.  She’s one of these fitness freaks, or perhaps it has something to do with keeping in shape for the movies.”

Juliet looked Francesca up and down with the eye of a jealous woman, or so I wanted to believe.  It could be that she simply viewed her with suspicion, much the same as I would in her place.

She knew me well enough to know Francesca was not there simply as a visiting friend.  But just how curious would she be.

“Another actress friend of yours?”

Francesca views Juliet with a similar look of contempt.

Francesca looked at me.  “Who is this woman and what is she talking about.  You obviously know each other.”

“Is it that recognisable?  This is Juliet, and ye, far back in a long-forgotten past we did spend some time together.  And lately, for some strange reason, we keep running into each other. Other than that, she’s staying with the countess and her mother.”

“You brought her to see the countess?   Is that wise?”

“No.  But I’ve had a long talk to Francesca, that’s her name by the way, and she’s working with people who have the same goal as I have, protecting the countess and making sure she gets to the signing.”

“Who are her people?”

“Need to know Juliet.”

“Well, this is going to be a cat amongst the pigeon’s moment, Evan.  You’re up to something, I know it.”

Francesca looked at her, then me, and went to say something, then didn’t.  I wished, at that moment, that I could read minds.

In my ear, I could hear Cecelia.  “They’ve stopped at the café just up from the hotel and the woman is talking earnestly into the phone.  She is probably calling for reinforcements.”

“A white van, no doubt,” I said.

Francesca was beside me.  “What about a white van?  Did you see one?”

“No.  Just muttering to myself.”

Juliet went first as we went into the hotel, over to the elevator, and then up to the room floor.  The short distance to the room was slow, running into several other guests who were going down to the lobby.

Juliet was on first-name terms with them.

Cecelia was back.  “As you said.  A white van went down the alley to the back of the hotel.  The two are staying put at the café.  It’s either a delivery or your ride.  What do you want me to do?”

“Nothing.”  Alfie’s voice came on.

“What are you doing here?”

“Joining the party.  Leave the van to me.  If it is involved, we’ll be on it.  If they take any one of the three, and they take their phones, we’ll have a trace.  At any rate, I’ve got a car, and will follow the van, if necessary.”

“Ever been told about a party, and then not get an invite,” I asked no one in general.

Juliet gave me a strange look then unlocked the door, went in, I followed, and Francesca came in last and closed the door behind her.

The countess was sitting at the table and looked up.  She didn’t recognise Francesca or if she did, she was a good actress.

“Who is this?” she asked.

“A woman who claims she has been hired to protect you too.  There seems to be a few of us.”

“Protect or kill?”  She stood and backed away.  “Why did you bring her here?”

“The old adage, keep your friends close, and your enemies closer.  She’s better here than out there,” I waved my hand in the general direction of the street.

Francesca didn’t move, and, better still, didn’t produce a gun from her handbag.

“Who do you work for?” the countess asked.

“Anna von Burkehardt.  She is very keen for you to make it to the signing alive.  She also told us that she would like to have a chat about what you’re going to be doing with the property once the documents are signed.  She would like to make you an offer.  One, I believe, you can’t refuse.”

It sounded reasonable to me.  What wasn’t was that she hadn’t moved from the door.  That was a bad sign.

Cecelia again.  “I’m on the floor, three hostiles heading to your door.  Do you want me to stop them?”

“No.”

Francesca looked at me.  “What do you mean no?”

“No, she can’t refuse it, like you said.”

The countess didn’t look particularly impressed with either of us.  “That hag has no interest in making any offers other than putting a bullet in the back of my head.  Take her away, Evan.  She had no interest in protecting me.  And, because of your incompetence, now Anna knows where I am.

I saw Francesca turn the handle of the door and quickly step to one side as it burst open.  Standing on the side expecting such an entry, I saw the men come in weapons in hand, yelling for us to get on the floor.

Cecelia was in my ear again.  “What do you want me to do?”

“Wait.  But be ready.”

In the confusion, Francesca was too busy acting the part of a hostage, with adequate parts of fear and cringing on the floor.

One of the men pointed his gun at me.  I was not the target.

I just realised that Vittoria was not in the room, so she was outside.

“Watch out for Vittoria,” I said.

Teo men grabbed the countess and gagged her.  The one pointing the gun at me went back to the door and looked out.  He waved his gun to say the coast is clear, and they quickly went out.

“Let them go.  Alf, you better not lose them.”

“I won’t.”

Three minutes and it was over. 

I got up and sat against the wall, and watched Francesca slowly raise her head and look around.

When her eyes reached me, she didn’t see my angry face looking at her, she saw a silenced gun pointed at her head.

“What the hell…”

The door opened again, and Cecelia came in, gun aimed, ready to shoot anything that moved.  It too, ended up on Francesca.

“One chance.  The next thing you tell me better be the truth or I will shoot you dead where you lie.  Am I clear?”

© Charles Heath 2023

Aftermath of a kidnapping

…

“You knew what was going to happen?”

“Of course.  Did you think you were dealing with rank amateurs?”

“Maybe my boss did.  Who are you two really?”

“We’re the sort of people who kill people like you, then go down the pub and have a few pints and laugh about it.”  It was almost a treat to see Cecelia acting so cavalier.

I glanced up at her, and her expression told me this was just another role, she was playing the bitch from hell.  And so much more dripping venom than Anna would ever muster.

That statement, of course, delivered in the deadpan voice of a deranged killer had the desired effect.  Francesca was suitably frightened.

“It was not my idea.  I just do as I’m told.”

“That’s what the Germans said at the Nuremberg trials.  Didn’t save there for being shot or hug or whatever.  Can I shoot her now?”  I almost laughed at the sincerity.

Francesca looked at me.  “You only told me because you knew what I’d do?  I told you who we were working for?”

“Who your boss told you to tell me.  Now we’re going to find out the truth.  I hope he told you the truth because if he didn’t, he isn’t going to be your boss for much longer.”

“Finally,” Cecelia sighed.

I almost laughed.  She was playing the role too well.

Alfie’s voice returned.  “What were you expecting?”

“Another party stepping in the rescue the countess.”

“How…”

“She can’t afford to have Anna find out who she really is.  Not yet.  Not until it is fait accompli/”

“When were you going to tell me?”

“At the appropriate time, which is now.  Let it go for now.  I know who’s got her.  And I know where she will go though not the exact location yet.  We have more work to do.”

“Who are you talking to?” Francesca asked.

“I have a plethora of friends Francesca, a plethora of friends.”

What happened next was like watching a bad stage play unfold in an unexpected manner.

Vittoria decided to turn up after the party had ended.

Seeing the door half open she blundered in and ended up with Cecelia’s gun in the back of her head, the door closing, and Francesca slowly getting back up off the floor.

Cecelia told Vittoria to walk slowly into the room and not try anything.  Vittoria was smart.  She did as she was told.

Francesca did the same.  She knew she had to humour me.  Then her phone rang.

“That will be your boss.  Answer it on speaker.”

She pulled it out of her bag and did as she was told.

“Sir.”

“What the hell is going on?”

I decided to answer that question for her.  “I might ask the same of you.  Had you just simply come and asked me, we could have sorted this out together, but no, you had to do it your way.  Now you have nothing.”

“Neither have you.”

“No.  What happened was exactly what I wanted to happen.  It gave me three valuable pieces of information.  Now you get nothing.  Go back to Rome and leave the professionals to get this done.  I am keeping Francesca with me.  She is the one concession I’m granting you.”

“That’s not how this works.”

“Then you will have to explain to her family how you got her killed because unless you agree, she will not leave this room alive.  Make up your mind.  My assistant has no patience and an itchy trigger finger.”

I counted to ten under my breath.  Francesca was getting more terrified by the minute.

“This is not acceptable, but I agree, only under extreme duress.  If anything happens to her, I will hold you personally responsible.”

“Agreed.  She will keep you posted.”

Francesca disconnected the call.

“It was a good job while it lasted,” she muttered.

“You’re a private detective and an art historian.  I’m not sure which day job you should not give up, but you can do better.  Now, enough retrospection.  We have work to do, and more feet on the ground.  Alfie, back to our hotel for a meeting.”

I heard him mutter, so I took that to mean he would be there soon.

In all the excitement I had forgotten about Juliet, and when I looked over to where she had been standing, near the countess before they took her, I saw her on the ground, just moving.

I went to her and knelt down to check on her head.

There was a bloody gash on the back of it, and it appeared one of the intruders had hit her.  Then I realised that I had seen her try to grab the countess back from one of the intruders and the other hit her with the butt of his gun.

She turned her head and looked at me with glassy eyes.  “What happened?”

“You tried to be brave, and as the saying goes, no good deed goes unpunished.”

“And a lot of good that did.  She’s not here.”  That was the result of her quick search.

“Never take on impossible odds.  Bad for your health.  Stay there and I’ll get a wet cloth.  You’re going to have a bad headache for a while.”

Vittoria had taken in the scene, seen her daughter, and yet it was me who got to her first to help.  It only reinforced my assumption about her.  No one could be that callous towards their daughter.

“Where’s the countess?” she asked, finally realising she was not there.

“Masked gunmen took her away,” I said.  “I believe they were taking her to Anna Von Burkehardt.  That’s going to be some reunion, don’t you think?”

The look on her face was priceless.

© Charles Heath 2023

Setting up Francesca

…

I asked Alfie to send me a track of Francesca’s movements, yes, I cloned her phone too, because I didn’t trust her, and yes, she went to see Anna at the Burkehardt’s residence.

We had a recording of her conversation, but it didn’t amount to much and Anna finished up yelling at her and kicking her out of the house.  Not literally, but if she hadn’t left the house when she did…

She was sitting at the table with her computer open.  By the way she shut it quickly, I suspect it was a video call to her boss.

“Your boss not happy with progress?”

She glared at me.

“You should go and have a talk to Anna Burkehardt.  Charming lady.”

Cecelia snorted almost too loudly on her way to the bathroom.

Francesca shrugged.  “Where have you been?”

“Looking at vines, would you believe.”

“How is that going to help?

“It’s not.  But I’ve decided you can come with me to see the countess.”

“You found her?”

“Not exactly.  She’s always been here, waiting for the day to sign the documents.  I was going to keep her away from your lot, now I’m not so sure that’s a good idea.  You can recognise her if you see her?”

“Are you saying the woman you have is not the countess?”

“No.  I’m asking if you can recognise her.”

“Of course.  We have a half dozen photographs we used, and some that deliberately disguise her in case she’s trying to be anonymous.”

“Good.  Tomorrow morning.”

That simple conversation was to see if she called her boss and they make arrangements to ‘take’ the countess into their protective custody, or, take her to Anna von Burkehardt.

As I said to Cecelia later, we would soon find out who Francesca and her people were working for.  Because of the hostility that Anne had shown towards her, I was wondering if Anna was, in fact, the one who hired them to find the countess.

“You’re going to have a busy morning tomorrow,” I said to Cecelia.  “You need to watch is leave and see if anyone follows us.”

“Do you really think they’d be that unsubtle?”

“Yes.  When large sums of money are involved.”

“And what will Anna do to her?”

“Nothing.  She’ll know straight away it’s not the real Countess, so I’m sure after they snatch her, the Countess will escape.  She can’t afford to be unmasked.  Not yet.

The fact that Cecelia didn’t tell me what I was doing was risky, told me that it was risky.

During the night, tossing and turning, with various women on my mind, I went through various scenarios, each of which had a bad outcome, the worst where Francesca became collateral damage.

This whole exercise was to see the lengths the fake Countess would go to not to be identified.  Or whether she thought her cover was good enough to fool everyone.

Except perhaps Anna.

A mother knows her daughter-in-law, especially after all that time.  A fake could not replicate the mannerisms, the speech, the idiosyncrasies, or a lifetime of just being together.

And I was banking on Francesca’s boss being greedy and putting money before ethics.  Francesca didn’t strike me as one with ethical problems, but I had read books by their covers before and been horribly wrong.

If it all blew up in my face at the very least, I could use it as an example of what not to do, but I doubt Cecelia would thank me in a hurry.

By the time I was ready to go, Cecelia had gone out for her morning run, and Francesca was ready to go and see the countess.  We had just enough time to sort out how we were going to communicate, and it was going to be amusing having Cecelia’s voice in my head.

At one point I had heavy breathing in my ear and told her it was distracting.  She simply replied that I should get out and join her and get rid of some of that retirement flab.

She did not have to be so mean, even if she was right.

I finished the coffee Cecelia had made in the percolator an hour before and tasted over-brewed, then finally stopped running scenarios that ended in disaster in my head.

“You ready?” I asked her.

I’d seen the transcript of the call Francesca made to her boss after I told her I was taking her to see the countess, and I knew the answer to that question.  It was rhetorical, but I couldn’t tell her that.

I just hoped the team that descended on us at the hotel was not a smash-and-grab type, not afraid to leave bodies behind.

© Charles Heath 2023

A story called “Mistaken Identity”

…

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

And a great idea for a story.

That story is called ‘Mistaken Identity’.