Category: Writer

“Opposites Attract” – The Editor’s first draft  – Day 5

This book was the effort put into the last NaNoWriMo November 2023 exercise. I have now picked it back up, and working on a more polished first draft for the Editor.

…

A rather odd request

…

How many people have been in limbo, wondering whether the last conversation was actually the last conversation?

Relationships that are in the early stages are always on a knife edge.

The boy knows that it’s possible this relationship has a use-by date, that while the father seems to think his daughter is benefitting from them being together, it might just be possible to spend some time with the girl of his dreams.

What will happen when reality sets in?

It seems the father of the girl is impressed with the boy and asks to meet him, but once again the PA is sent to fetch him.  Since it is her father our boy makes an exception.

Wondering what he wants…

It seems she wants to start a proper charity foundation and run it.  Of course, being so young she cannot start at the top, so she has to learn the ropes, so to speak. And he knows the boy does charity work.

We all know what that means, taking the once spoilt brat to a place where people would judge her for what she was, not entirely because she’s from a rich family, but more because of the fact she was, and maybe still is a brat?

A challenge?  Indeed.

…

Searching for locations: From Beijing to X’ian by bullet train

Beijing West train station.

Beijing west railway station is about eight kilometers from the Forbidden City, located at East Lianhuachi Road, Fengtai District.  Most trains traveling between south central, southwest, northwest, and south China are boarded here.

This place is huge and there are so many people here, perhaps the other half of Beijing’s population that wasn’t in the forbidden city.

Getting into the station looked like it was going to be fraught with danger but the tour guide got us into the right queue and then arranged for a separate scanner for the group to help keep us all together

Then we decided to take the VIP service and got to waiting room no 13, the VIP service waiting room which was full to overflowing.  Everyone today was a VIP.  We got the red hat guy to lead us to a special area away from the crowd.

Actually, it was on the other side of the gate, away from the hoards sitting or standing patiently in the waiting room.  It gave us a chance to get something to eat before the long train ride.

The departure is at 4 pm, the train number was G655, and we were told the trains leave on time.  As it is a high-speed train, stops are far and few between, but we’re lucky, this time, in that we don’t have to count stations to know where to get off.

We’re going to the end of the line.

However, it was interesting to note the stops which, in each case, were brief, and you had to be ready to get off in a hurry.

These stops were Shijiazhuang, Zhengzhou East, Luoyang Longmen, Huashan North, and Weinan North.  At night, you could see the lights of these cities from a distance and were like oases in the middle of a desert.  During the day, the most prominent features were high rise apartment blocks and power stations.

A train ride with a difference

G Trains at Wuhan Railway Station

China’s high-speed trains, also known as bullet or fast trains, can reach a top speed of 350 km/h (217 mph).

Over 2,800 pairs of bullet trains numbered by G, D or C run daily connecting over 550 cities in China and covering 33 of the country’s 34 provinces. Beijing-Shanghai high-speed train link the two megacities 1,318 km (819 mi) away in just 4.5 hours.

By 2019, China keeps the world’s largest high-speed rail (HSR) network with a length totaling over 35,000 km (21,750 mi).

To make the five and a half hours go quicker we keep an eye on the speed which hovers between 290 and 305 kph, and sitting there with our camera waiting for the speed to hit 305 which is a rare occurrence, and then, for 306 and then for 307, which happened when we all took a stroll up to the restaurant car to find there had nothing to eat.

I got a strange flavored drink for 20 yuan.

There was a lady manning a trolley that had some food, and fresh, maybe, fruit on it, and she had a sense of humor if not much English.

We didn’t but anything but the barrel of caramel popcorn looked good.

The good thing was, after hovering around 298, and 299 kph, it finally hit 300.

We get to the end of the line, and there is an announcement in Chinese that we don’t understand and attempts to find out if it is the last station fall on deaf ears, probably more to do with the language barrier than anything else.

Then, suddenly the train conductor, the lady with the red hat, comes and tells us it is, and we have fifteen minutes, so we’re now hurrying to get off.

As the group was are scattered up and down the platform, we all come together and we go down the escalator, and, at the bottom, we see the trip-a-deal flags.

X’ian,and the Xi’an North Railway Station

Xi’an North Railway Station is one of the most important transportation hubs of the Chinese high-speed rail network. It is about 8.7 miles (14 km) from Bell Tower (city center) and is located at the intersection of the Weiyang Road and Wenjing Road in Weiyang District.

This time we have a male guide, Sam, who meets us at the end of the platform after we have disembarked.  We have a few hiccups before we head to the bus.  Some of our travelers are not on his list, but with the other group.  Apparently a trip-a-deal mix-up or miscommunication perhaps.

Then it’s another long walk with bags to the bus.  Good thing its a nicely air-conditioned newish bus, and there’s water, and beer for 10 yuan.  How could you pass up a tsing tao for that price?

Xi’an is a very brightly lit up city at night with wide roads.  It is very welcoming, and a surprise for a city of 10 million out in the middle of China.

As with all hotels, it’s about a 50-minute drive from the railway station and we are all tired by the time we get there.

Tomorrow’s program will be up at 6, on the bus 8.40 and off to the soldiers, 2.00 late lunch, then train station to catch the 4.00 train, that will arrive 2 hours later at the next stop.  A not so late night this time.

The Grand Noble Hotel

Outdoor scene

Grand Noble Hotel Xi’an is located in the most prosperous business district within the ancient city wall in the center of Xi’an.

The Grand Noble Hotel, like the Friendship Hotel, had a very flash foyer with tons of polished marble.  It sent out warning signals, but when we got to our room, we found it to be absolutely stunning.  More room, a large bathroom, air conditioning the works.

Only one small problem, as in Beijing the lighting is inadequate.  Other than that it’s what I would call a five-star hotel.  This one is definitely better than the Friendship Hotel.

In the center of the city, very close to the bell tower, one of the few ancient buildings left in Xi’an.  It is also in the middle of a larger roundabout and had a guard with a machine gun.

Sadly there was no time for city center sightseeing.

Getting the lie of the land

A lot of locations for stories are based on places that I’ve visited. So, any time I’m on holiday, I’m also discreetly observing, and noting, the places with an ulterior motive.

At some point in time, they’ll finish up in a story.

Places like Florence, London, Paris, New York and Venice have all been used in recent stories.

Of course places change, and there are some that I can’t get to, so it’s useful having Google Maps and Street View. These can either make up for lack of memory and a be a refresher.

Especially if you need to visit Africa. Parts of several stories are set in Nigeria, not exactly a place I would go, no matter how much I wanted to get the lie of the land, nor would I go to the Democratic Republic of Congo.

Rwanda, maybe, but in investigating locations, it is interesting to discover that places like Kenya and Rwanda are reasonbly safe. Uganda is more or less the same, but whether I’d visit, as inviting as it might be to see the wildlife (animals that is) I’m thinking Google Maps will do for now.

And, of course, at the moment there is another reason why I can’t get a practical look at overseas locations. Covid-19.

I have always had a fascination for other places, from way back when I was in school and we did a subject called geography. Back then, nearly 60 years ago, we had school atlases that had all of the British colonies, even if they had become independent, coloured red on the maps, and there was a lot of them.

Places like London, of which we also studied in history, always held a fascination for me, and, in particular, the royal family. Oddly enough, I knew all of the kings and queens from 1066 onwards, and yet had no idea who our Prime Ministers in Australia were.

It wasn’t until much later we learned about Australian history.

But seeing places foreign are only part of the story. I have had time during the pandemic when we were not allowed to leave home, to delve into the historical side of Australia, and it has created a fascination for writing a story that has basis in fact.

This was unwittingly pushed along when my grand daughter came home from school with the assignment of writing a story about a character that was affected by a historical event. Thus Eliza at the Eureka Stockade was created.

I remember back in university days when working on the narrative part of my literature stream we were set an assignment based on pictures from a certain period, and a series of written documents to put together a story. Mine was about a passenger on a ship from Melbourne to Geelong in the days before rail around the time of the gold rush.

I’m guessing that’s what is called historical fiction.

Well, it’s time to get back to the mists of time…


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

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

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

So, what do you do when you are heartbroken?

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

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

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

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

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

…

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

…

Searching for locations: The Longjing Pearl Factory, Beijing, China

The Longjing Pearl Factory is located at:
No.2 Zuoan Gate Inner Street, ChongWen District, Beijing 100061 China.

This Pearl Center specializes in both freshwater and seawater pearls, with a reputation backed by the government of China, with a big selection and of the highest quality.  There were all kinds of jewelry made of pearls in different colors, shapes, and sizes.

They also had, as an interesting sideline, famous Chinese traditional cosmetics such as pearl cream and pearl powder, reputed to make your skin smoother, tendered and most importantly, younger.

We were advised of all of this well before we arrived at the factory, and of course, one suspected the glowing review, with emphasis on the fact it was a government operation and therefore trustworthy, suggested we should buy, meant the tour guide would receive a commission on each sale.

This is nothing new, it’s the same the world over, so it’s up to the visitor to buy or not to buy.

As soon as you get in the door you are taken to the group’s guide for the tour (and afterward, available for help on making purchases). who gives you a rundown on the different types and colors of pearls.  This briefly is,

Pearls come in two main categories: freshwater cultured pearls and saltwater cultured pearls. Various types of pearls are the result of the environment in which they live, and different cultivation techniques used by the pearl farmers. 

Freshwater cultured pearls are grown in lakes and rivers, whereas saltwater cultured pearls are grown in bodies of saltwater such as bays.  The most commonly used pearls are Freshwater pearls. 

Freshwater Pearls come in various pastel shades of white, pink, peach, lavender, plum, purple, and tangerine.  
South Sea cultured pearls come in shades of lustrous white, often with silver or rose overtones. 

Black pearls are known as Tahitian pearls and come most often in shades of black and gray. While a Tahitian pearl has a black body color, it will vary in its overtones, which most often will be green or pink.

Then there’s a demonstration, where one of the tour group is selected to pick an oyster out of the tank, and then there’s the guessing game as to how many pearls are in the shell, with the winner getting a pearl.

Guesses ranged from 1 to 23 and the answer was 26.  Nearest wins, and one for the person who picked the oyster out of the tank.  After this demonstration, we move on to the ways we can tell the difference between real and fake pearls.

It seems strange that they would, but we were guaranteed by both the tour guide and the lady delivering the lecture that the pearls we were about to buy were real, so how could we suspect there was anything dodgy about them?  Besides, now we could tell real from fake!

We then move onto the showroom floor where there are casements of pearl products, in the form of necklaces, earrings, and any number of variations and uses.  And, just to let you know, the prices are very, very expensive, even if they say they have a special.

Perhaps the best products, and those that found favor with many of the women on the tour, was the pearl cremes and powders.  These were not expensive, and, as we discovered later, actually worked as described.

“Opposites Attract” – The Editor’s First Draft – Day 4

This book was the effort put into the last NaNoWriMo November 2023 exercise. I have now picked it back up and working on a more polished first draft for the Editor.

…

A different type of girlfriend

…

Let’s get it right from the start.

Our boy knows something is going on and is bracing himself for what he thinks might be the mother of all pranks.  She is, after all, the best in the business.

Then there’s the little thing like status, and he has none, so it’s only a matter of time before the father pulls the plug.

But…

As much as all this weighs on his mind, she is not going anywhere.  She learns her first lesson, that our boy will not be summoned like a dog.  She has to ring and ask him where and when they can meet.

There’s that small thing like the limelight, and it shines very brightly around all of the members of her family, and especially on her.  She is a news magnet for all the wrong reasons, and that limelight spills over onto our boy.

He makes the news in the local paper; with a suggestion they might be dating.

They might, or after finally meeting at the local diner they disagree, she leaves not very happy, so maybe they might not be dating.

…

An excerpt from “Sunday in New York”

Now available on Amazon at:  https://amzn.to/2H7ALs8

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Williams’ Restaurant, East 65th Street, New York, Saturday, 8:00 p.m.

We met the Blaine’s at Williams’, a rather upmarket restaurant that the Blaine’s frequently visited, and had recommended.

Of course, during the taxi ride there, Alison reminded me that with my new job, we would be able to go to many more places like Williams’.  It was, at worst, more emotional blackmail, because as far as Alison was concerned, we were well on our way to posh restaurants, the Trump Tower Apartments, and the trappings of the ‘executive set’.

It would be a miracle if I didn’t strangle Elaine before the night was over.  It was she who had filled Alison’s head with all this stuff and nonsense.

Aside from the half frown half-smile, Alison was looking stunning.  It was months since she had last dressed up, and she was especially wearing the dress I’d bought her for our 5th anniversary that cost a month’s salary.  On her, it was worth it, and I would have paid more if I had to.  She had adored it, and me, for a week or so after.

For tonight, I think I was close to getting back on that pedestal.

She had the looks and figure to draw attention, the sort movie stars got on the red carpet, and when we walked into the restaurant, I swear there were at least five seconds silence, and many more gasps.

Even I had a sudden loss of breath earlier in the evening when she came out of the dressing room.  Once more I was reminded of how lucky I was that she had agreed to marry me.  Amid all those self-doubts, I couldn’t believe she had loved me when there were so many others ‘out there’ who were more appealing.

Elaine was out of her seat and came over just as the Head Waiter hovered into sight.  She personally escorted Alison to the table, allowing me to follow like the Queen’s consort, while she and Alison basked in the admiring glances of the other patrons.

More than once I heard the muted question, “Who is she?”

Jimmy stood, we shook hands, and then we sat together.  It was not the usual boy, girl, boy, girl seating arrangement.  Jimmy and I on one side and Elaine and Alison on the other.

The battle lines were drawn.

Jimmy was looking fashionable, with the permanent blade one beard, unkempt hair, and designer dinner suit that looked like he’d slept in it.  Alison insisted I wear a tuxedo, and I looked like the proverbial penguin or just a thinner version of Alfred Hitchcock.

The bow tie had been slightly crooked, but just before we stepped out she had straightened it.  And took the moment to look deeply into my soul.  It was one of those moments when words were not necessary.

Then it was gone.

I relived it briefly as I sat and she looked at me.  A penetrating look that told me to ‘behave’.

When we were settled, Elaine said, in that breathless, enthusiastic manner of hers when she was excited, “So, Harry, you are finally moving up.”  It was not a question, but a statement.

I was not sure what she meant by ‘finally’ but I accepted it with good grace.  Sometimes Elaine was prone to using figures of speech I didn’t understand.  I guessed she was talking about the new job.  “It was supposed to be a secret.”

She smiled widely.  “There are no secrets between Al and I, are there Al?”

I looked at ‘Al’ and saw a brief look of consternation.

I was not sure Alison liked the idea of being called Al.  I tried it once and was admonished.  But it was interesting her ‘best friend forever’ was allowed that distinction when I was not.  It was, perhaps, another indicator of how far I’d slipped in her estimation.

Perhaps, I thought, it was a necessary evil.  As I understood it, the Blaine’s were our mentors at the Trump Tower, because they didn’t just let ‘anyone’ in.  I didn’t ask if the Blaine’s thought we were just ‘anyone’ before I got the job offer.

And then there was that look between Alison and Elaine, quickly stolen before Alison realized I was looking at both of them.  I was out of my depth, in a place I didn’t belong, with people I didn’t understand.  And yet, apparently, Alison did.  I must have missed the memo.

“No,” Alison said softly, stealing a glance in my direction, “No secrets between friends.”

No secrets.  Her look conveyed something else entirely.

The waiter brought champagne, Krug, and poured glasses for each of us.  It was not the cheap stuff, and I was glad I brought a couple of thousand dollars with me.  We were going to need it.

Then, a toast.

To a new job and a new life.

“When did you decide?”  Elaine was effusive at the best of times, but with the champagne, it was worse.

Alison had a strange expression on her face.  It was obvious she had told Elaine it was a done deal, even before I’d made up my mind.  Perhaps she’d assumed I might be ‘refreshingly honest’ in front of Elaine, but it could also mean she didn’t really care what I might say or do.

Instead of consternation, she looked happy, and I realized it would be churlish, even silly if I made a scene.  I knew what I wanted to say.  I also knew that it would serve little purpose provoking Elaine, or upsetting Alison.  This was not the time or the place.  Alison had been looking forward to coming here, and I was not going to spoil it.

Instead, I said, smiling, “When I woke up this morning and found Alison missing.  If she had been there, I would not have noticed the water stain on the roof above our bed, and decide there and then how much I hated the place.” I used my reassuring smile, the one I used with the customers when all hell was breaking loose, and the forest fire was out of control.  “It’s the little things.  They all add up until one day …”  I shrugged.  “I guess that one day was today.”

I saw an incredulous look pass between Elaine and Alison, a non-verbal question; perhaps, is he for real?  Or; I told you he’d come around.

I had no idea the two were so close.

“How quaint,” Elaine said, which just about summed up her feelings towards me.  I think, at that moment, I lost some brownie points.  It was all I could come up with at short notice.

“Yes,” I added, with a little more emphasis than I wanted.  “Alison was off to get some study in with one of her friends.”

“Weren’t the two of you off to the Hamptons, a weekend with some friends?” Jimmy piped up, and immediately got the ‘shut up you fool’ look, that cut that line of conversation dead.  Someone forgot to feed Jimmy his lines.

It was followed by the condescending smile from Elaine, and “I need to powder my nose.  Care to join me, Al?”

A frown, then a forced smile for her new best friend.  “Yes.”

I watched them leave the table and head in the direction of the restroom, looking like they were in earnest conversation.  I thought ‘Al’ looked annoyed, but I could be wrong.

I had to say Jimmy looked more surprised than I did.

There was that odd moment of silence between us, Jimmy still smarting from his death stare, and for me, the Alison and Elaine show.  I was quite literally gob-smacked.

I drained my champagne glass gathering some courage and turned to him.  “By the way, we were going to have a weekend away, but this legal tutorial thing came up.  You know Alison is doing her law degree.”

He looked startled when he realized I had spoken.  He was looking intently at a woman several tables over from us, one who’d obviously forgotten some basic garments when getting dressed.  Or perhaps it was deliberate.  She’d definitely had some enhancements done.

He dragged his eyes back to me.  “Yes.  Elaine said something or other about it.  But I thought she said the tutor was out of town and it had been postponed until next week.  Perhaps I got it wrong.  I usually do.”

“Perhaps I’ve got it wrong.”  I shrugged, as the dark thoughts started swirling in my head again.  “This week or next, what does it matter?”

Of course, it mattered to me, and I digested what he said with a sinking heart.  It showed there was another problem between Alison and me; it was possible she was now telling me lies.  If what he said was true and I had no reason to doubt him, where was she going tomorrow morning, and had she really been with a friend studying today?

We poured some more champagne, had a drink, then he asked, “This promotion thing, what’s it worth?”

“Trouble, I suspect.  Definitely more money, but less time at home.”

“Oh,” raised eyebrows.  Obviously, the women had not talked about the job in front of him, or, at least, not all the details.  “You sure you want to do that?”

At last the voice of reason.  “Me?  No.”

“Yet you accepted the job.”

I sucked in a breath or two while I considered whether I could trust him.  Even if I couldn’t, I could see my ship was sinking, so it wouldn’t matter what I told him, or what Elaine might find out from him.  “Jimmy, between you and me I haven’t as yet decided one way or another.  To be honest, I won’t know until I go up to Barclay’s office and he asks me the question.”

“Barclay?”

“My boss.”

“Elaine’s doing a job for a Barclay that recently moved in the tower a block down from us.  I thought I recognized the name.”

“How did Elaine get the job?”

“Oh, Alison put him onto her.”

“When?”

“A couple of months ago.  Why?”

I shrugged and tried to keep a straight face, while my insides were churning up like the wake of a supertanker.  I felt sick, faint, and wanting to die all at the same moment.  “Perhaps she said something about it, but it didn’t connect at the time.  Too busy with work I expect.  I think I seriously need to get away for a while.”

I could hardly breathe, my throat was constricted and I knew I had to keep it together.  I could see Elaine and Alison coming back, so I had to calm down.  I sucked in some deep breaths, and put my ‘manage a complete and utter disaster’ look on my face.

And I had to change the subject, quickly, so I said, “Jimmy, Elaine told Alison, who told me, you were something of a guru of the cause and effects of the global economic meltdown.  Now, I have a couple of friends who have been expounding this theory …”

Like flicking a switch, I launched into the well-worn practice of ‘running a distraction’, like at work when we needed to keep the customer from discovering the truth.  It was one of the things I was good at, taking over a conversation and pushing it in a different direction.  It was salvaging a good result from an utter disaster, and if ever there was a time that it was required, it was right here, right now.

When Alison sat down and looked at me, she knew something had happened between Jimmy and I.  I might have looked pale or red-faced, or angry or disappointed, it didn’t matter.  If that didn’t seal the deal for her, the fact I took over the dining engagement did.  She knew well enough the only time I did that was when everything was about to go to hell in a handbasket.  She’d seen me in action before and had been suitably astonished.

But I got into gear, kept the champagne flowing and steered the conversation, as much as one could from a seasoned professional like Elaine, and, I think, in Jimmy’s eyes, he saw the battle lines and knew who took the crown on points.  Neither Elaine nor Jimmy suspected anything, and if the truth be told, I had improved my stocks with Elaine.  She was at times both surprised and interested, even willing to take a back seat.

Alison, on the other hand, tried poking around the edges, and, once when Elaine and Jimmy had got up to have a cigarette outside, questioned me directly.  I chose to ignore her, and pretend nothing had happened, instead of telling her how much I was enjoying the evening.

She had her ‘secrets’.  I had mine.

At the end of the evening, when I got up to go to the bathroom, I was physically sick from the pent up tension and the implications of what Jimmy had told me.  It took a while for me to pull myself together; so long, in fact, Jimmy came looking for me.  I told him I’d drunk too much champagne, and he seemed satisfied with that excuse.  When I returned, both Alison and Elaine noticed how pale I was but neither made any comment.

It was a sad way to end what was supposed to be a delightful evening, which to a large degree it was for the other three.  But I had achieved what I set out to do, and that was to play them at their own game, watching the deception, once I knew there was a deception, as warily as a cat watches its prey.

I had also discovered Jimmy’s real calling; a professor of economics at the same University Alison was doing her law degree.  It was no surprise in the end, on a night where surprises abounded, that the world could really be that small.

We parted in the early hours of the morning, a taxi whisking us back to the Lower East Side, another taking the Blaine’s back to the Upper West Side.  But, in our case, as Alison reminded me, it would not be for much longer.  She showed concern for my health, asked me what was wrong.  It took all the courage I could muster to tell her it was most likely something I ate and the champagne, and that I would be fine in the morning.

She could see quite plainly it was anything other than what I told her, but she didn’t pursue it.  Perhaps she just didn’t care what I was playing at.

And yet, after everything that had happened, once inside our ‘palace’, the events of the evening were discarded, like her clothing, and she again reminded me of what we had together in the early years before the problems had set in.

It left me confused and lost.

I couldn’t sleep because my mind had now gone down that irreversible path that told me I was losing her, that she had found someone else, and that our marriage was in its last death throes.

And now I knew it had something to do with Barclay.

© Charles Heath 2015-2020

Sunday In New York

In a word: Right

Am I right?  Or is that correct?

In the moral sense, or in answering a question?

Do I have a right to …

As an entitlement?

Maybe

But right means generally to be correct, but the word itself can be used, like many others in a variety of ways

Such as, do we have any rights any more, since the government is slowly shutting down our freedoms, and, you guessed it, rights.

What about a right angle, we know this as being an angle of 90 degrees

How about I right a wrong, returning a bad situation to a good one?

Are you left-handed or right-handed?

Are you one of those people who can’t tell their left from their right?

And who was it that decided what was your left or your right, ever thought about that?  I didn’t until just now.  Good luck finding an answer on Google.

And how many times have you wished you were in the right place at the right time???

Then, of course, if English is a second language, how about confusing right with write.

Means something quite different, doesn’t it?

How about rite?  Yes, I guess if we were in the habit of chopping chicken heads off and dancing around a fire, that might be its meaning,

But…

It too has a lot of different meanings

Are you confused yet?

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’.

Motive, means, and opportunity – Episode 5

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Detective Bryson interviews Wendy Anderson

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Worthey called Bryson, in the middle of a hamburger, with the owner of the cell phone number in Bergman’s wallet.  A woman, no surprise there, perhaps his latest conquest.  They settled on a time and Worthey texted the address, and said he would meet Bryson at the apartment, after lunch.

Bryson never really felt comfortable when talking to mistresses, perhaps more because of his beliefs than anything else, and it would be good to have Worthey there just in case he made some inappropriate comment.  It wouldn’t be the first time.

In his mind, being married was monogamous and you didn’t play around, certainly not like the overprivileged people he had to deal with.  The trouble was, they were not the only perpetrators, it just seemed more common.

And it was at the top of the list of motives for crime, especially murder.

Between the time between Worthey’s call and arriving at the apartment, the tech team had the phone company supply the text messages off the phone number his PA had supplied, and, it seemed, after a cursory glance at the swath of text messages on Bergman’s phone, there were several women he was involved with in various parts of the country, and overseas, but only one in New York.

Her name:  Wendy Anderson.  And the text messages were salacious, bordering on pornographic.  Except the last few where it seemed the relationship had turned nasty, and several compromising photographs were in play.  It wasn’t blackmail yet, but it was reason enough to get his bank records.  Bergman was not a scrupulous man.

As for phone calls the last between Bergman and Wendy Anderson was at 7:03 pm.  But that was not the last communication, that was a text message at 9:05 pm, after leaving Anderson’s telling her that he was not signing the papers yet until she clarified her situation with Bergman.  Anderson had asked him, and he had said nothing like they agreed.

There was a reply, that she was available if he wanted to see her to discuss the ‘other’ matter but he said he had another appointment at 10pm.  The other matter was, no doubt, the photos.

A quick search on Wendy’s social media by Worthey turned up the fact she also in the middle of a messy divorce, and that her relationship with Bergman had been since school.  It appeared that all three, Wendy’s husband, James, Bergman, and Wendy had all known each other forever, so the question had be bel when did things go south and why?

More digging through the blog entries discovered that Anderson’s only child had died in a car accident, and Wendy had blamed her husband, who had a blazing row with his son just before it happened.

Worthey looked up the details of the accident and found the son had been high on drugs, and no doubt the husband’s argument was about preventing him from driving.  The blog, he noted, not once mentioned the son’s addiction.  The blog also only mentioned Bergman in passing as a family friend, and supportive in her time of grieving.

Another layer to a complex interrogation, Worthey thought, and texted a brief analysis to Bryson so he had a heads up before meeting her.

Worthey met Bryson in the building foyer.

“Nothing is ever straightforward, is it?”

“Not with the rich and infamous, no.  So, we have a couple who suffer the loss of a son, the wife blames the husband, Bergman’s on the scene sensing an opportunity, and she has an affair, you say the texts turned salacious about a month after the accident.  Who initiated it?”

“Bergman.”

“They start an affair, and soon after divorce proceedings begin.  We need to see who started it, so a lawyer’s name.  Make a note.  Ten gets you a dozen this Wendy Anderson tries to implicate her husband in the murder.  Simple enough, they were a happy trio until the son’s death.”

“This Bergman character, we’re not finished digging up shit on him, are we?”

“No.”  Bryson gave him the list he received from the PA.  “Disgruntled businessmen and husbands.  The suspect list gets longer.  Ready?”

She, like the ex-Mrs Bergman, looked to have done well out of an upcoming divorce, living in a very expensive mid-town apartment.

It elicited a shake of the head from Bryson as he and Worthey waited outside the door, standing next to one of the building’s concierges.  He’d never be able to afford such luxury and only served to cement his low opinion of the so-called rich and infamous.

The door opened, not by a maid, but the occupant herself.  There was an element of grief about her that no amount of makeup could hide.  A look, he thought, that could be genuine, but having dealt with a lot of so-called grieving widows, he’d reserve judgement.  He knew most women thought tears were their best friend in situations like this.

A bit cynical, but from his point of view, it was true.

“Mrs Anderson, I presume.”

She nodded.

“Detectives Bryson and Worthey, NYPD.  You spoke to Worthey earlier.”

“Yes.  He said you would be calling to ask some questions about Alex?”

“May we come in?”

She stood to one side and let them pass then after closing the door followed him into a sitting room the walls adorned with not as many expensive paintings as Bergman’s current wife.

She directed him to a chair opposite where she sat.  Worthey hovered.

“We believe given the circumstances and evidence so far that this will most likely become a murder case, so I need to ask you some routine questions.  I will apologise in advance because some of these may be personal given your relationship with the deceased.  You may not be aware that we discovered your phone number on the deceased.”

She had hardly moved or appeared to have registered what he had said, but that might be part of an act.   Bryson’s experience in matters like these interviews, sometimes he got a reaction, and not necessarily what the interviewer wanted to convey.  She seemed grief-stricken, but it seemed odd that a woman having an affair might be unless it was something more serious.

As far as he was concerned, she was high on the list of suspects.

“At this point, we are just ticking the boxes in the process of interviewing those who were acquainted with the deceased, and to ascertain their movements and relationships with the victim.  So, firstly, what is the nature of your relationship with Alex Bergman.”

“We are very good friends and have been since grade school.  That was the extent of it.  He tried to make more of it, but I was a married woman and didn’t think is was appropriate.”

OK, he thought, that’s the first lie.  She blinked first, a slight hesitation before answering, which meant she was picking options as answers.

That was when he noticed her demeanour had changed, from a grieving friend to a steely-eyed, very wary woman.  If he had to guess, she was hoping the phone details would not be discovered.

“OK.  Now, in the last few days up until yesterday, how would you categorise the nature of your relationship with James Bergman?”

“He was strangely distant.  We had me earlier in the day, yesterday, over his impending divorce, and the fact my husband was stalling signing the papers.

“So, you two were considering taking your relationship to the next level?”

“I was a consideration, but I’d been burned badly with my current marriage and wasn’t about to jump into another.”

“You had reservations about Bergman’s character?”

Suddenly her whole manner changed, and she went defensive.  “What are you getting at, Detective?”

“It’s a simple question.  Did you have reservations about Bergman’s character?”

She was quick to notice his expression.  “Not particularly.”

Bryson decided on a change of tack, to keep her off balance.  “When was the last time you saw Bergman?”

“Yesterday.  We had lunch with another friend, Edward Davies, who is a lawyer.  We were talking about my pending divorce.  Alex had said he thought if he went to see my husband, he might be able to persuade him to sign the papers.  They used to be friends.”

“Alex Bergman went to see your husband last night.  Would you have any idea what time that might have been?”

“I last spoke to him about seven, just before he said he was leaving home.  I saw on the news before that he was found dead near Queens Park.  That’s not very far from where my husband is currently staying.”

True to form, Bryson thought.  An attempt to lay the blame for Alex Bergman’s death at her ex-husband’s feet.  If he was convicted of a crime, and especially murder, would benefit her greatly.

Mistaking his thoughtful expression for one that craved answers, she continued, “He has a gun, you know, and I wouldn’t be surprised if they had a fight, James followed him and shot him dead.  He never really liked James, not even in grade school.”

“Are you saying that your husband believed there was something going on between you and Bergman?”

A second’s delay as she reworked the answer in her head, perhaps not quite expressing it the way she should have.

“I cannot speak as to what he was thinking, but his attitude towards me had changed recently, so maybe he thought there was, and his temper got the better of him.”

The hole she was digging for herself was getting deeper.  Now he had a bad temper.  What it did was add to Bryson’s mental notes to ask James Anderson.  The gun, the temper, the wife, and did he know Bergman and Wendy were more seriously involved.  Bergman had indicated it was not serious.

Perhaps it was time to introduce new evidence.

“What was your last communication with Bergman?”  He deliberately didn’t use the word phone.

“About 7pm as I told you earlier.”

“Are you sure?”

Was that panic he saw in her eyes. 

“I think it’s time I called my lawyer.  This interview is over Detective.  Let me know where and when you want to continue this.  Unless you’re going to charge me?”

“This is just a preliminary enquiry.  However, I suggest you seriously consider what you say because if you are not telling us the truth, or of matters that may help in your defence, you might find yourself in a very serios situation.”  He stood.  “I thank you for your cooperation so far.  I’ll send a message with the place and time I will expect to see you to continue this interview.”

Outside Worthey said, “She doesn’t know we have Bergman’s phone records.”

“She’s hoping we haven’t, but I think she does now.  It’s going to be very interesting to see what she comes up with before tomorrow when we get her in.”

At the very least, Bryson thought, she would have to tell them the true extent of her and Bergman’s relationship, the text messages with the veiled threats, and the photographs, which she referred to as the ‘other’; matter.

“Questions still to ask, where was she at the time of the murder, what’s the extent of her knowledge about the gun her husband has, I’m assuming she had access to it as well, and whether it’s legal, something else for you to look at.  I’m going to see the husband, James, just in case she calls him.”

“They’re divorcing, why would she?”

“Desperate people do desperate things, Worthey.  And she was beginning to look desperate.”

“You think she did it?”

“Motive, means and opportunity, circumstantial, but it’s possible.  But in my experience, up close and personal with a gun is not a woman’s style, but she might be the exception.”

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© Charles Heath 2019-2023