Category: Travel

A photograph from the inspirational bin – 24

When I first saw it I thought it was an old country estate, converted and expanded into a golf clubhouse.

It wasn’t.  It is a purpose-built clubhouse and function center for corporate seminars and wedding receptions, as well as catering to the golfer, and golf tournaments.

20200215_100153

It also has a very good outlook over the golf course.

But, in my writer’s mind, this will provide inspiration for a story that could be set in a large country house,  with the central tower and lookout featuring in what might be a grisly death, and a group of guests who have gathered together to enact a mock murder that turns out to be very real.

Yes, the idea has been done to death over many many years, but I have a few new twists in mind.

Stay tuned.

Searching for locations: Florence, Italy

Florence is littered with endless statues, and we managed to see quite a few,

If those statues came to life I wonder what they might tell us?

Like castles on the shores of the Rhine, there are only so many statues you can take photos of.  Below are some of those I thought significant

2013-06-17 09.16.14

Michelangelo’s David directs his warning gaze at someone else.

2013-06-17 09.16.24

The impressive muscles of Baccio Bandinelli’s Hercules from 1533. The worked-out demi-god is pulling the hair of Cacus, who will be clubbed and strangled.

2013-06-17 09.17.13

Achilles with Polyxena in arm, stepping over her brother’s body

2013-06-17 09.18.08

Menelaus supporting the body of Patroclus, in the Loggia dei Lan

2013-06-17 09.18.28

Statue of Hercules killing the Centaur by Giambologna in Loggia dei Lanzi. Piazza della Signoria.

On the back of the Loggia there are six marble female statues, probably coming from the Trajan’s Foro in Rome, discovered in 1541 and brought to Florence in 1789

Short story writing – don’t try this at home! – Part 3

Where is this story going to start?

Let’s forget about the what and the who and the when for the moment, and figure out the location.

After all, we couldn’t make a movie unless we have somewhere to shoot it.  Those places are called locations, and before a film begins someone has to go out and find locations.

Sometimes it’s easy, because you know where the story is based.

New York, London, Singapore, Moscow.

It’s more likely it will be somewhere you’ve been, or where you live.

I live in Brisbane, in Australia.  Not a lot of people overseas know of it.  Oddly enough before I moved here over 30 years ago, it was just a name on a map.

But the point is, now that I’m here I could write a story based in Brisbane.  Or as easily, in Melbourne, where I also used to live.

Or I could select a place I’ve travelled to, perhaps not once, but a few times, and each time taking photographs and notes about that place, thinking one day I could used it as a location.

I have, and I do.  It’s one of the reasons why I like to travel.  I’m always on the lookout for someplace new.

Several of my books are based in New York, several in London, and various parts of the story find the characters in places like Paris, Rome, Florence, Tuscany, Hong Kong, Singapore, and Moscow.

Then, sometimes when my knowledge is lacking in some of the finer points of the city, Google maps, and Google itself are there to fill in the gaps.  I have virtually driven down streets in London, especially near Kew Gardens and in Knightsbridge, checking locations.

Suffice to say, I know some parts of London like the back of my hand, and recently, before COVID, visited and did a spot check just to be sure.

With COVID 19 causing havoc with travel plans, virtual travel is all I can do at present.

Then there’s building, like houses, apartments, any sort of building which may require some knowledge.

I guess what I’m saying is that there’s more to locations than just saying something is there, it had to fit the area.  Yes, the story is a work of fiction, but sometimes it’s better to have an idea of what’s there, or readers will be disappointed.

Especially if they live in that city, town, village, house or tent.

I actually use the real estate advertisements in a city of town where I want to have a house, because it gives you a map, exterior views, how to get there, and best of all what it looks like inside.

Still can’t afford that $12,000,000 apartment in New York, but the views, there were to die for.

But I, as always, digress…

Now it’s starting to sound like a lot of hard work.

It is.

Even if you go down the ‘pantser’ road, there’s still lot of research to be done.

More confusion tomorrow.

The cinema of my dreams – It continued in London – Episode 41

Who’s telling the truth?

…

After the three women left, I stretched out in one of the chairs and closed my eyes.

Cecelia had disappeared into one of the bedrooms, I suspect the one with the biggest bed and its own private bathroom, and I tried not to think about her.  I tried not to think about Juliet either.

I heard Cecelia flop into the other chair opposite me a few minutes later.  “They’re all lying in one way or another.”

I opened my eyes, hoping she hadn’t changed into something more ‘comfortable’, like in the movies.

“Welcome to the real world.  I’m glad you played along.  It was a bit of a limb we’re out on at the moment, and I’m sure Alfie, after bursting into the flat will be having kittens.”

“Can we trust any of those three?”

“You’d think the countess being a countess would be trustworthy.”

“But…”

“She does come from a class of people who are a law unto themselves.  I don’t see her as a master criminal though, but she’s not telling the whole truth, just the parts she thinks we need to hear.  It’s the same with everyone in this business.  They try to anticipate our requirements.”

“I like the idea of being a bit player.”

“Never tell anyone who you really are.  I find it helps to allay their fears and stops them from thinking you can save them from anything.  First lesson I learned; I couldn’t save everyone.”

“Noted.”

“So, what do you think after hearing everything.”

“Anthony got some of it right, but his suppositions didn’t meet the facts on the ground.”

“Which is always the case.  Sometimes a lot worse for us when we get there.  We’re lucky this time we have a familiar face, Juliet.  It buys us some credibility.”

“You think it’s the old woman or Alessandro trying to kill them, or someone else, or was that attack staged…”

It was a thought I had in passing too, as real as it appeared.  If I thought too much about it, the fact was, just before the shooting started, we were both sitting ducks and he could have shot both of us dead.

A point to be noted and filed for later reference.

“Assuming it wasn’t, we have to get them over to Italy.”

“How?”

“How Larry got there.  A small plane flying under the radar.  If Rodby put you to work with me for a reason, it was probably to teach you all my tricks of the trade.  You accumulate a lot of them as you progress, and don’t get killed.  Moving secretly from place to place is a useful tool and you gather assets over time.  I know a guy who knows a guy, and tomorrow, with the three women, you will go find him and take yourselves off to Italy.  You will have two envelopes, the first the name of the pilot.  The second, is an address of a safe house near Sorrento.  Once they are safe, you will take up surveillance on the Sorrento Chateau, and the movements of the matriarch.  After I’ve dealt with Rodby, I’ll be over to talk to her.”

“Don’t you think that’s dangerous, I mean, Rodby will be very angry.”

“Do you want to go see him?”

“No.”

“Then let me worry about him.”

“You sure he won’t lock you up and throw away the key?

“Not if he wants the countess.”

© Charles Heath 2023

Searching for locations: Arezzo, Italy

There’s nothing like being a few days early or a few days late for a major festival.

We have the dubious honor of being able to both without thinking. I guess this is why you should try to plan your holiday around events, if possible.

We love Italy.

We’ve been a number of times, but the last visit was the best. Of course, it was not without a lot of hiccups just getting there, but in the end, later than we expected, actually about five minutes before they closed Florence airport, we made it.

So, little did we know there was such a thing as Calcio Fiorentino an early form of football and rugby that originated in 16th-century Italy and thought to have started in the Piazza Santa Croce in Florence. But we were in Florence, at the right time, and even got to see the procession through the streets of Florence.

You can read more about the game and rules at https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Calcio_Fiorentino

We were not so lucky in Siena where we were about a week early for the Palio di Siena which was to take place on 2nd July.

Nor were we in Arezzo at the right time for the Saracen Joust which was held on the penultimate Saturday in June. It is held at the Piazza Grande in the heart of Arezzo and is one of the most beautiful piazzas in Tuscany.

The Piazza Della Liberta and the Town Hall tower

The Piazza Grande, also known as Piazza Vasari, is said to be situated on the site of the ancient Roman Forum.  Here, it is being set up for the coming Joust.

A different view of Arezzo Cathedral | Cattedrale dei Santi Pietro e Donato

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 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’.

A photograph from the inspirational bin – 22

I found this…


So near and yet so far.

What I found was the moon out in the late afternoon, a phenomenon that might happen on a regular basis, but this one of the few times I’ve seen it.

And it reminds me of something I was told a long time ago. Shoot for the moon. I never quite understood what the person meant, not until a long time later when I realised that I was being told nothing was impossible.

Had I ever achieved the impossible?

The thing is, each of us define what is possible and what is impossible ourselves, and is therefore different for every person. If you tell yourself it is impossible, then it requires a mind shift to get past that barrier.

But, the question still remains the same, did I achieve the impossible?

I never thought I’d write a book, or have it published. Some would say I still haven’t achieved that goal because I self published it on Amazon.

I think I achieved what I set out to do.

I never thought I’d get a university degree, but people had faith in me, and yes, I got it in the end.

I never thought, when I was younger, I would be a father, and sometimes I wonder whether it was worth it, but having grandchildren dispelled any perceived disappointment.

And what is on the impossible list now?

Not a lot. At my age, I don’t think it’s possible I will travel to the moon, nor afford to skirt the edge of space, as much as it would be amazing to look back at the planet.

I don’t think I’ll ever become a CEO, but then I don’t want to. Too much responsibility.

What’s left that is achievable?

Tracing my family history, and going back to where my ancestors came from, and, hopefully finding someone who was ‘famous’.

Searching for locations: Florence, Italy

Florence is littered with endless statues, and we managed to see quite a few,

If those statues came to life I wonder what they might tell us?

Like castles on the shores of the Rhine, there are only so many statues you can take photos of.  Below are some of those I thought significant

2013-06-17 09.16.14

Michelangelo’s David directs his warning gaze at someone else.

2013-06-17 09.16.24

The impressive muscles of Baccio Bandinelli’s Hercules from 1533. The worked-out demi-god is pulling the hair of Cacus, who will be clubbed and strangled.

2013-06-17 09.17.13

Achilles with Polyxena in arm, stepping over her brother’s body

2013-06-17 09.18.08

Menelaus supporting the body of Patroclus, in the Loggia dei Lan

2013-06-17 09.18.28

Statue of Hercules killing the Centaur by Giambologna in Loggia dei Lanzi. Piazza della Signoria.

On the back of the Loggia there are six marble female statues, probably coming from the Trajan’s Foro in Rome, discovered in 1541 and brought to Florence in 1789

Short story writing – don’t try this at home! – Part 3

Where is this story going to start?

Let’s forget about the what and the who and the when for the moment, and figure out the location.

After all, we couldn’t make a movie unless we have somewhere to shoot it.  Those places are called locations, and before a film begins someone has to go out and find locations.

Sometimes it’s easy, because you know where the story is based.

New York, London, Singapore, Moscow.

It’s more likely it will be somewhere you’ve been, or where you live.

I live in Brisbane, in Australia.  Not a lot of people overseas know of it.  Oddly enough before I moved here over 30 years ago, it was just a name on a map.

But the point is, now that I’m here I could write a story based in Brisbane.  Or as easily, in Melbourne, where I also used to live.

Or I could select a place I’ve travelled to, perhaps not once, but a few times, and each time taking photographs and notes about that place, thinking one day I could used it as a location.

I have, and I do.  It’s one of the reasons why I like to travel.  I’m always on the lookout for someplace new.

Several of my books are based in New York, several in London, and various parts of the story find the characters in places like Paris, Rome, Florence, Tuscany, Hong Kong, Singapore, and Moscow.

Then, sometimes when my knowledge is lacking in some of the finer points of the city, Google maps, and Google itself are there to fill in the gaps.  I have virtually driven down streets in London, especially near Kew Gardens and in Knightsbridge, checking locations.

Suffice to say, I know some parts of London like the back of my hand, and recently, before COVID, visited and did a spot check just to be sure.

With COVID 19 causing havoc with travel plans, virtual travel is all I can do at present.

Then there’s building, like houses, apartments, any sort of building which may require some knowledge.

I guess what I’m saying is that there’s more to locations than just saying something is there, it had to fit the area.  Yes, the story is a work of fiction, but sometimes it’s better to have an idea of what’s there, or readers will be disappointed.

Especially if they live in that city, town, village, house or tent.

I actually use the real estate advertisements in a city of town where I want to have a house, because it gives you a map, exterior views, how to get there, and best of all what it looks like inside.

Still can’t afford that $12,000,000 apartment in New York, but the views, there were to die for.

But I, as always, digress…

Now it’s starting to sound like a lot of hard work.

It is.

Even if you go down the ‘pantser’ road, there’s still lot of research to be done.

More confusion tomorrow.

The cinema of my dreams – It continued in London – Episode 42

Meeting the Rodby’s

…

I picked a safe place to meet Rodby.

I called him directly, which is what none of his agents did, ever.  That was because no one knew his private number.  No one except perhaps Mrs Rodby and, now, myself.

It didn’t elicit kind words.

When he answered with a tentative yes, I started with, “One day you are going to tell me just a little more than you think I need to know.”

“Evan?”

“Who else would have the audacity to talk to you in such a manner?”

“Someone with either suicidal tendencies or one with a death wish.  I don’t see you as having the former, so I’ll run with the second.  You are aware I could have you arrested and worse?”

The thought had occurred to me.  There were certain people in the organisation that were untouchable, and he was one of them.

“You can do that if you like, but there will be consequences.  It might be an idea to wait until after we’ve me.”

“Come into the office.  I’ll be here all morning.”

“Not this morning.  Somewhere else, today.  Trafalgar Square, fifteen minutes.  I won’t bother asking you to come alone but be aware I’m not pleased with you.”

I hung up before he could ask why.

I did several circuits of the perimeter, then observed the tourists from the stairs of the gallery behind, then waited until I saw Rodby, with Mrs Rodby as I hoped, coming towards the square from Haymarket.

The fact it concerned the countess almost ensured that Mrs Rodby would be along to find out what happened to her friend.  But, to me, she could do that just as easily by being on the end of the telephone.  Rodby himself had laid down the law about bringing civilians into organisational matters, and Mrs Rodby was a civilian.

There was not one law for the boss and one law for everyone else.  Rodby was not like that, so there had to be a compelling reason why she was being included.

I watched them walking slowly and thought what an unconventional sight they made.  All the time I knew Rodby, he never walked anywhere. And he definitely would never be seen with Martha.  His enemies if they were out and about would have leverage being dangled in front of them, which is why we seemed to live such monastic lives or quit so we could have a normal one.

Once again, I thought this very unconventional.

Though at this very minute, I could snatch her off the street.

It was incentive enough to maintain vigilance and note where every unsavoury character was.  And there were a lot of them judging by appearances.

As I followed from behind, I sent a text message to Cecelia to tell the countess she would be able to talk to Mrs Rodby in about fifteen minutes.  I had managed to clone Mrs Rodby’s phone and get the number.

I timed my arrival to close to them as they crossed the road in front of the gallery coming up behind them, and as they stepped onto the footpath on the other side I said, “Nice to see you both out and about together.  Is this a prelude to retirement?”

Both stopped and turned around.

OK, there was a mental note about to be stored.  Mrs Rodby was the same height and wearing heels.  What relevance was that she didn’t wear heels for one very specific reason, it made her taller than her husband and that was one part of his ego you didn’t mess with.

Mrs Rodby had got shorter.  Of course, I hadn’t seen her for a while and there didn’t seem to be a height difference the night of the opera, so perhaps it was just my view from where I was standing.

“Are you trying to give us heart attacks, Evan?”  Martha spoke, while Rodby was looking around.  Fifteen minutes was too short a time to get a team of agents on the ground, but there would be one.  He would have people observing via the CCTV camera.

“It was not my intention.”

Standing on the path was blocking the foot traffic and we moved towards one of the fountains.  I kept an eye on the direction from where they came, but they were not being followed.  We were not far from the fountain when we stopped.

Rodby looked annoyed.  “Enough with the theatrics.  Where is the countess?  From what Alf told me, she should be with you, the reason why you summoned us here.”

“Toy told me to find her, not bring her to you.”

“You’re not one to interpret orders, Evan, although I should have factored in your unorthodox method of doing the job.”

“I was thinking that was why you asked me, and not one of the other dozen or so people you could have.”

That was another thought that just popped into my head.  Why me?  I was not his first choice for this type of mission, and I had long discounted the original contrived reason for meeting the countess, that Martha might be matchmaking, a suggestion dropped by the countess herself.

I knew Mrs Rodby, and she was not a matchmaker or the sort who would interfere in anyone’s life.  Granted she knew about Violetta, but that was only after she was diagnosed, and Rodby let us into a small part of his life, and that was only because I had retired and there was no conflict of interest.  Which flicked my attention back to Martha.

She had aged a lot since I saw her last when it seemed she could not be perturbed by anything.  Violetta, in fact, had said she was as close to an angel as she would ever get to see.

Now that angel was not looking happy.  “You met and talked to her?”  Mrs Rodby asked.

“Yes, and she insists that she left the hotel as a precautionary measure, unsure of Alesandro’s intentions.  She seemed to believe he was being manipulated by his mother, who I think might be a problem.  I spoke to Alessandro, and he assured me he had nothing to do with her departure.”

Rodby had maintained continuous surveillance of the square and then brought his eyes back to me.  It wasn’t exactly a look of daggers, but close.  “Do you think she might harm the countess?”

“I have no idea where she fits into the equation though on the surface it seems she wants to be in control of the family business, if indeed she hasn’t been all along.”

“It could just be a family feud, fuelled by the fact that it’s possible the running of the business might fall to the countess, who is for all intents and purposes, an outsider.  Everything was fine while he was alive, it’s only since he died, that she has been having difficulties.”

Could that be a subtle hint that she might have killed the count herself to get control of everything?  Would the countess do that?  Not the woman that I met at the opera, and then later on, whether she was brandishing a gun at me or not.

“So, it’s possible the family might be trying to stop her from inheriting.  That’s a bit hard under Italian law isn’t it?”

“Not if she’s dead.”

“And if there’s a daughter?”

“Same problem arises, needing a similar solution.”

With mafia connections that wouldn’t be too much of a difficulty to arrange.  Not surprising then that Mrs Rodby was worried about her friend.

“Then given Anthony told us that we were, yes, to find her, but also to make the problems go away, though not exactly in those words, what exactly was I supposed to do.  I didn’t interpret that as going in and taking out the family.  He didn’t mention any extraction team, nor did he say I had to tell you where she was, only to provide an update.  I am, here.”

“What about that daughter you mentioned, Juliet Ambrose.  Don’t you find it coincidental she pops up as a key player, the daughter of a maid, Vittoria Romano, who by all accounts is trying to eliminate the countess?”

“It’s a small world.  What can I say?  It was a surprise to learn of her involvement, and no doubt Alfie told you I met up with her and also told that I saved her from being killed?”

“By whom?”

“It could be anybody.  She had dealt with one too many bad people of the years, but it’s possible it might be the Burkehardt’s.  The count did tell the countess that she existed, as he did to Alessandro, but he would not have disclosed her actual identity.”

“Then the countess doesn’t know who she is?” Martha seemed surprised.

“She does now.  that’s where I found the countess, in Juliet’s flat.”

“And they’re together still?”

“Last I heard.”

“Would that be a very bad idea, especially if the mother found them?  You can be sure this Juliet and her mother are not plotting…”

“…to kill the countess and step in as another legitimate heir?  I don’t think so.”

I found it surprising that Martha was so well-read into the case, perhaps better than I was.

“Have you met her mother?”

“Cecelia has.  And that’s another question.  Why did you reassign me to her, that’s not usual practice.”

“She’s used to your maverick ways, and last assignment you two worked well together.”

“It might also mean she’s become a maverick too?”

“I told her to learn only the good aspects of being an agent from you, though I’m beginning to question that decision.  Where is she?”

“In Italy watch over the countess, and keep an eye on the mother.”

Mrs Rodby had been watching us.  “Are you two like this all the time?  How did anything get done?”

“Slowly,” I said.  “It’s a bit hard to do anything when you don’t get the whole story.  But, for now, the countess is safe.  Cecelia is investigating Vittoria and I know where Juliet is, and what her involvement is.  None.  For now.  But that might change when her mother appears.”

A few seconds of silence, and then Mrs Rodby’s phone rang.

She pulled the phone out of her bag, looked at the screen, and then answered it with a tentative ‘Yes?”

She then turned to Rodby, “It’s the countess.”  She put it on speakerphone, and I moved away so I couldn’t hear her, but within reach of them if anything happened.

Nothing did.

Five minutes later, Rodby stepped away and came over to me.  “Get over to Italy and find the lawyer handling her side of the inheritance.  You need to get her to him before they meet with the family lawyers.  Whatever you do, ensure you keep her safe.”

“What about the matriarch?”

“Ignore her.  Your priority is the countess.”

I watched them walk away thinking I’d got out of that way too easily.  And wondering if I should have remained within earshot of the conversation.  Something about this whole affair suddenly wasn’t adding up.

© Charles Heath 2023