Writing a book in 365 days – 151/152

Days 151 and 152

My story so far…

..

The notion that I would be writing a book throughout this writing calendar seems at odds with the way I have approached writing books in the past.

About eight years ago, I started working on the writing of books using the NaNoWriMo method. That method, of course, does not demand that you write a book in the 30 days that make up November. What it asks you to do is try to write 50,000 words, which would make a reasonable-sized book.

To ‘win’ the prize, which is simply a certificate, all you have to do is write an average 1,667 words a day.

Not all that hard really.

Or is it more difficult than it seems?

When you are put under pressure, and have to find a plot, characters, twists and turns, and write that many words, it can finish up turning you into a mental wreck. What happens if you get ill, are called away for work, or experience some other calamity?

Despite what might or might not happen, over the past 12 years, I have managed to write 8 books, of between 50,500 words and 65,000 words. Since I’m one of those who fly by the seat of their pants, it suits me. For planners and prognosticators, you would need a couple of months before November to plan.

Writing this story, now with the working title of “A score to settle”, I’m taking the long road, thinking more about what I write, and not necessarily writing every day.

As with most of my novels, they start as a short story, which turns into a long short story, and then a novel, if the ideas keep coming.

This one, the protagonist, Alan, has been through a version of hell and comes out the other side in a hot tugid room in a seaside resort town in a pseudo-dictatorship country, run by an ever-cheerful president who is the face of the so-called benevolent ruling elite.

Behind the smiles and platitudes is the real leader, a general who runs the military and the secret police. It is a country where human rights abuses are suspected, but as with any propped-up government, people who matter tend to look the other way.

Introduce into this, the parameters for the story –

  • A human rights conference, which is at odds with the perception of the country’s objectives
  • A population that is beginning to stir, not openly revolt, but it is a work in progress
  • A missing face of the last coup d’état, who disappeared shortly after the military took over
  • The imminent return of the son of the missing leader to become the face of the next coup
  • Circumstances that will work against the ruling elite making a coup possible

It’s not our protagonist’s problem; he is just there to ensure that the keynote speaker is protected, supposedly without them knowing he is there.

On a normal, routine-of-the-mill operation, it would be at best a five-day holiday in paradise.

And that’s where the fun starts…

It’s one of those situations, that time of life, after being at the edge, on the edge, and over the edge, that our protagonist wakes up and realises that his life is no life, that he had achieved nothing but fuel nightmares with the faces of those who had died, both friend and enemy over the years.

Not a time to start speculating on what might have been when he is about to step into the breech.

Then, of course, everything changes. An assistant arrives because he believes his boss had lost faith in him, the target changes from a man to a woman, one he had to mind five years before, in a mission that went sideways. He had to contend with a police chief who suddenly takes more than a passing interest in him, and discovers the whole country is a powder keg about to blow up in his face.

And that’s just after he accidentally meets a free spirit, the ubiquitous woman in white who, in a few short questions, can see into his very soul and question everything about himself.

Perhaps the near-death experience had primed him for such an event.

The worst thing about it, where he should have enjoyed that introspective time with her, his suspicious mind treats her, and everyone around him with suspicion and alarm, as he had been trained, and it’s perhaps the most soul-destroying truth.

He can never have a relationship or friendship, or anything, while he is doing his job.

And it’s day one of the operation.

But first things first … running in the background is another plot, fuelled by the anger of one man, hell bent on destroying the organisation he works for, and particularly its leader.

Not only will the perceived enemy of his target be looking for him too, but quite literally, his own people will be trying to assassinate him for the second time.

I have to say – this is a fun story to write.

Inspiration, Maybe – Volume 2

50 photographs, 50 stories, of which there is one of the 50 below.

They all start with –

A picture paints … well, as many words as you like.  For instance:

And, the story:

Have you ever watched your hopes and dreams simply just fly away?

Everything I thought I wanted and needed had just left in an aeroplane, and although I said I was not going to, i came to the airport to see the plane leave.  Not the person on it, that would have been far too difficult and emotional, but perhaps it was symbolic, the end of one life and the start of another.

But no matter what I thought or felt, we had both come to the right decision.  She needed the opportunity to spread her wings.  It was probably not the best idea for her to apply for the job without telling me, but I understood her reasons.

She was in a rut.  Though her job was a very good one, it was not as demanding as she had expected, particularly after the last promotion, but with it came resentment from others on her level, that she, the youngest of the group would get the position.

It was something that had been weighing down of her for the last three months, and if noticed it, the late nights, the moodiness, sometimes a flash of temper.  I knew she had one, no one could have such red hair and not, but she had always kept it in check.

And, then there was us, together, and after seven years, it felt like we were going nowhere.  Perhaps that was down to my lack of ambition, and though she never said it, lack of sophistication.  It hadn’t been an issue, well, not until her last promotion, and the fact she had to entertain more, and frankly I felt like an embarrassment to her.

So, there it was, three days ago, the beginning of the weekend, and we had planned to go away for a few days and take stock.  We both acknowledged we needed to talk, but it never seemed the right time.

It was then she said she had quit her job and found a new one.  Starting the following Monday.

Ok, that took me by surprise, not so much that it something I sort of guessed might happen, but that she would just blurt it out.

I think that right then, at that moment, I could feel her frustration with everything around her.

What surprised her was my reaction.  None.

I simply asked where who, and when.

A world-class newspaper, in New York, and she had to be there in a week.

A week.

It was all the time I had left with her.

I remember I just shrugged and asked if the planned weekend away was off.

She stood on the other side of the kitchen counter, hands around a cup of coffee she had just poured, and that one thing I remembered was the lone tear that ran down her cheek.

Is that all you want to know?

I did, yes, but we had lost that intimacy we used to have when she would have told me what was happening, and we would have brainstormed solutions. I might be a cabinet maker but I still had a brain, was what I overheard her tell a friend once.

There’s not much to ask, I said.  You’ve been desperately unhappy and haven’t been able to hide it all that well, you have been under a lot of pressure trying to deal with a group of troglodytes, and you’ve been leaning on Bentley’s shoulder instead of mine, and I get it, he’s got more experience in that place,  and the politics that go with it, and is still an ally.

Her immediate superior and instrumental in her getting the position, but unlike some men in his position he had not taken advantage of a situation like some men would.  And even if she had made a move, which I doubted, that was not the sort of woman she was, he would have politely declined.

One of the very few happily married men in that organisation, so I heard.

So, she said, you’re not just a pretty face.

Par for the course for a cabinet maker whose university degree is in psychology.  It doesn’t take rocket science to see what was happening to you.  I just didn’t think it was my place to jump in unless you asked me, and when you didn’t, well, that told me everything I needed to know.

Yes, our relationship had a use by date, and it was in the next few days.

I was thinking, she said, that you might come with me,  you can make cabinets anywhere.

I could, but I think the real problem wasn’t just the job.  It was everything around her and going with her, that would just be a constant reminder of what had been holding her back. I didn’t want that for her and said so.

Then the only question left was, what do we do now?

Go shopping for suitcases.  Bags to pack, and places to go.

Getting on the roller coaster is easy.  On the beginning, it’s a slow easy ride, followed by the slow climb to the top.  It’s much like some relationships, they start out easy, they require a little work to get to the next level, follows by the adrenaline rush when it all comes together.

What most people forget is that what comes down must go back up, and life is pretty much a roller coaster with highs and lows.

Our roller coaster had just come or of the final turn and we were braking so that it stops at the station.

There was no question of going with her to New York.  Yes, I promised I’d come over and visit her, but that was a promise with crossed fingers behind my back.  After a few months in t the new job the last thing shed want was a reminder of what she left behind.  New friends new life.

We packed her bags, three out everything she didn’t want, a free trips to the op shop with stiff she knew others would like to have, and basically, by the time she was ready to go, there was nothing left of her in the apartment, or anywhere.

Her friends would be seeing her off at the airport, and that’s when I told her I was not coming, that moment the taxi arrived to take her away forever.  I remember standing there, watching the taxi go.  It was going to be, and was, as hard as it was to watch the plane leave.

So, there I was, finally staring at the blank sky, around me a dozen other plane spotters, a rather motley crew of plane enthusiasts.

Already that morning there’s been 6 different types of plane depart, and I could hear another winding up its engines for take-off.

People coming, people going.

Maybe I would go to New York in a couple of months, not to see her, but just see what the attraction was.  Or maybe I would drop in, just to see how she was.

As one of my friends told me when I gave him the news, the future is never written in stone, and it’s about time you broadened your horizons.

Perhaps it was.

© Charles Heath 2020-2021

Coming soon.  Find the above story and 49 others like it in:

In a word: Anonymous

Which is how I feel sometimes.

It can be a paradox in that an ordinary man may strive to be recognised, that is, to rise above his inherent anonymity simply because he feels he has something more to offer mankind than just making up the numbers.

But sadly, that desire will often be met with staunch resistance, not because there’s an active campaign against him, it’s just the way of the world.

The fact is, most of us will always be anonymous to the rest of the world, but in being so in that respect it’s that anonymity we can live with.  However, it’s far more significant if we become anonymous to those around us.  And, sadly, it can happen.

It’s when we take someone for granted.

At the other end of the scale, there is the celebrity, who has finally found fame, discovers that fame is not all it’s cracked up to be.  You find that meteoric rise from obscurity an adrenaline rush, and you’re no longer anonymous.

But all that changes when you are constantly bailed up in the street by well-meaning but annoying fans when you are being chased by the paparazzi and magazine reporters who thrive not on the fact that you are famous but watching and waiting for you to stumble.

Some often forget that there’s always a camera on them, or there’s a reporter lurking in the shadows, looking for the next scoop, capturing that awkward inexplicable moment when the celebrity is seen with someone who’s not their spouse, or worse, if it could be that, they get drunk and make a fool of themselves.

Do I really want to lose that anonymity that I have?

Not really.  It seems to me like it might be the lesser of two evils.

‘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

…

It’s still raining

It suits my mood and is bound to affect my writing.

There are days when you write like you feel.

Wet and miserable.

But as a major contradiction, I actually like the rain. The pattering of raindrops on the roof and on the leaves of the foliage outside the window, the droplets running down the glass of the windows.

It has a calming effect

Then there is the wind.

It can have the un-nerving effect, sort of like the wailing of a banshee.

Or a sort of humming sound as it blows through the electricity lines.

Or has the effect, of a cold day, of cutting through your clothes and chilling you to the bone, more so if you are soaking wet.

Or when the wind blows the rain sideways, and you can feel it on your skin like a shower of frozen icicles.

It’s the sort of weather for staying inside, rugged up by the fire with a large cup or mug of hot tea and cookies, reflecting on when the good weather will return.

It reminds me of a set of allegories I read about a long time ago,

Winter – sad

Spring – hope

Summer – happy

Autumn – reflective

Perhaps it is a little early for me to be reflective, because where I live, Autumn is just around the corner.

Oh well, it’s time to get back to work!

The cinema of my dreams – I always wanted to see the planets – Episode 44

Back on the alien vessel

…

I was surprised the alien captain was not getting impatient with the way this matter was dragging on. 

If this was back on earth and we were dealing with an alien incursion, there would be a lot of shooting by short-tempered small-minded fools who only knew one way of dealing with seemingly insurmountable problems.

In that regard, these aliens were better than us, and I had to wonder if they were dealing with this problem in a manner we would understand, and if that was the case, what would have happened if my ship had not made a timely, or untimely, arrival.

It also begged the question of how either of us could move forward from this point, because the only logical outcome was to hand back the criminals.

I wonder what Nancy was thinking, the fate of diplomatic relations, if they were possible after this, in her hands.

There was also a question of what the Russian captain had been promised in return for trying to save them.  It would have to be significant for him to put his vessel and its crew on the line.

I looked at the Russian Captain, not looking very comfortable, on the end of a weapon he clearly knew could kill him, or worse.

“What did they promise you?”

His mouth moved, an indication to me he was going to say they didn’t, which to me meant that it was not something he wanted to talk about in front of the Aliens.

The alien answered for him.  “Technology, perhaps our secret weapons, the criminals are all people who have worked with or worked on some of our most secret projects.”

Which begged the question, what did they do wrong that they were labelled criminals.

Perhaps the alien could read my mind because he added, “and who had used that technology illegally, or tried to sell it to our enemies.”

So, a new piece of information; the alien has enemies.  It raised another question, what if we had met their enemies first?

“Sir.”  Number one had come back online, hopefully from the location if the so-called criminals.

“What the situation?”

“I’ve spoken to a chap named Midava, who seems to be the spokesperson for a group of seven I can see.  Firstly, they are different from the captain of the vessel you are currently on.  He tells me, and several of his colleagues are from a different world, as are others, who were recruited to work on advanced technology.  It seems their home planets are far more advanced than the captains.”

“OK.  Just hold it there for a minute.”  I looked over at the Captain.  His expression hadn’t changed, but he had been listening intently.

“Would you like to explain your planets existence among what it seems to me, a galaxy of other civilisations.”

“We are just part of a much larger galaxy, yes, though I would question our level of development in their eyes “

“So, these so-called criminals are from different worlds?”

“We do not discriminate, as some others do.”

There was no acrimony or anger in his tone.  He was relating information, and answers to my questions, from their perspective.  I realized that I could not judge these people in the same terms as I would one of my own people, and that was going to be the hardest problem we were going to have in dealing big with new people

Quite simply, they were not us.

And, equally, we had no right to judge them according to our rules.

“Sir.”  Number one again. 

“Yes?”

“Midava tells me they are being held against their will simply because they want to go home.  Apparently, their hosts do not want their homelands to know their level of technology improvement.  I think you can understand the implication.”

I could.  “Thank you, number one.”

“It’s all a matter of perspective,” the alien captain said.  “Other worlds, like other countries on your planet, group together in what you call blocs.  They are more technologically advanced, so they deigned to ignore us, and it has taken a long time for us to become as advanced.  Those people came to us and said they wanted to help us, without the knowledge of their leaders, because it was unjust.  We willingly accepted it and for years the association was mutually beneficial, they got the recognition they would not get on their homeworlds, and we got the technology.  This ship is one of the benefits, along with its weapons.  When they wanted to go home, their work, they said, was done, and they wanted to see their families, the high council decided against it, for security reasons, and when they tried to escape, they were detained.  You would call it political expediency.”

“But in an enlightened and just society such as yours, don’t you think that is wrong to deny them.  I suspect as you might give a bit more thought to the matter, that telling their homeworlds what they’d done would most like condemn them to death, so I’m sure telling anyone anything about their time with you was the last thing on their minds.  It’s food for thought.  However, since is not my objective to interfere in your sovereign right to dispense justice in accordance with your laws, I will have the prisoners returned to you.”

“You can’t do that,” the Russian captain said.

“I can, and you will.  There are far larger implications in play and if necessary, I will enforce our laws upon you, which will, if the Captain desires, hand you over as well.  I suggest, to avoid trouble you give the necessary orders to your crew forthwith.”

To the alien captain, “I expected as a courtesy that you, myself, and the leader of these so-called criminals sit down and have a discussion about their options.”

“I will need to deal with the high council.”

“Then do so now, before we make any arrangements.  And release my fellow captain.  Using force will not give what you want, and sets a bad precedent if you seek to have any sort of relationship with us.”

A nod from the alien captain to his subordinate, and she let him go, and it was hard to tell if she was upset or not.

Both then disappeared, leaving us alone on an empty bridge, if that was what it was.

“You do realize what will happen to them when he gets them back,” the Russian captain said.

“That’s not our problem.  If our roles were reversed, would you want them to weigh in on our affairs?”

“That’s not the point “

“That is the point.  Were not here to tell others what to do but to hopefully forge new relations with people who have the means to help us find a place in a new galaxy.  We’re here to learn and share if that’s what it takes.”

“And if they are the devil instead?”

“I’m sure you will be very well placed to discern whether they are or not, based on your own actions.”

He didn’t seem annoyed at the inference, which to me showed a marked disregard for anyone but themselves, underlying the people who had put him aboard his ship and what their purpose in getting out into the galaxy first was.

The cold war back on earth had just moved out in the galaxy, and if not now, they would eventually be a threat, not only to ourselves but anyone they came across in their travels.

“You’re making a mistake, once they get what they want they will dispense with us.”

It was a possibility, but the problem for the alien people was, we were here, now, and if he did destroy us, they had to know we knew about them and more of our ships would arrive in time, and they would be hostile, especially if we didn’t report back.  And if they had been observing life on earth they’d know we would seek retribution

Perhaps that was the reason why he didn’t destroy us in the first instance.

“How long do you think they will be?”  Nancy had found her voice, finally.

I’d almost forgotten she was there.

“How long do you think it would take to talk to a high council?  If it’s anything like back home, it could take forever.  Any ideas on how, if you get the chance, you’re going to approach setting up diplomatic relations?”

“None whatsoever, sir.”

“Good, a clean slate.  Start thinking about it.”

She looked around.  “You’d think there’d be a chair to at least sit down.”

A second later three chairs appeared.

“You only had to ask!”

…

© Charles Heath 2021-2022

A photograph from the inspirational bin – 44

How often do we sit on the balcony of our by-the-sea residence and stare across the water, wondering what was on the other side?

We probably don’t, and if we were interested, it wouldn’t take long by car to find out.

My guess, a whole bunch of other people looking across the water wondering what’s on the other side.

Curiosity killed the cat!

So, having got that flippancy out of the way, what can be inspiring about this photograph.

Perhaps if we sent our minds back to 1804, there would be nothing on the other side except for trees. There may well have been aborigines there, going about their business, blissfully unaware of the white man, until they started arriving in big ships.

For them, it was the beginning of the end.

For those that lived on this side, in 1804, the other side would seem a long way off. There would be no bridges, no cars, and no other means of transport other than by boat.

My guess, some adventurous people would have got in a boat and rowed over there. More adventurous people would explore the coastline further north, and then 25 odd years later some bright spark would come up with the idea of creating a prison, and import a few thousand felons from the mother country, England.

It would make an interesting story, if the narrator was a boy or girl growing up in this new land.

Writing a book in 365 days – My Story 20

More about my story

…

Could it be more of an epic romance than a sizzling spy story?

…

There is the woman in white

The mysterious, enigmatic woman who wanders into his life, fascinated by a man who does not act upon the signals she is sending.

What man could resist her allure?

He had to be up to one good.

Of course, in time, we learn that she is more than just a free spirit, that she has connections to several of the main players in ways that are surprising yet not.

She is one of the reasons why our main protagonist realises it’s time to take a step back and decide what is more important, working a job that is becoming more of a chore than a joy, or having a life.

And whether he really wants to exact the retribution that might or might not give him closure.

There is Amanda, the woman who derailed his career when he got too close.

It was like Icarus flying too close to the sun, and when it ended, it ended very badly, leaving visible scars and an impairment to his soul.

He discovered love and loss and had never recovered.

Now she was back, and on top of nursing a near-death experience, crossing her path was just one omen too many.

Can he exercise this demon or will it, quite literally, be the death of him?

There is a spy sent to spy on a spy.

Teresa, just as broken as our protagonists, with a whole different set of demons to contend with.

A woman who had been described by many as the devil incarnate.

A woman who could tempt the devil into doing her bidding, sent to the one person who saw her only as an impediment to doing his job and as a punishment from his boss.

She was ostensibly there to act in any capacity he requires, and after a difficult beginning, it works.

Sort of.

Unfortunately, their demons have other ideas…

Searching for locations – Gold Coast, Queensland, Australia – 1

I’m not going to spark a debate over what a holiday is and what isn’t, but …

We received an invitation to stay for a few days with my brother-in-law down at a coastal resort city, what is known as the Gold Coast, not far from where we live in Brisbane, about 70km north.

Not far, but some say far enough.

We come down every now and then, but before Covid, and before I retired into a more modest lifestyle, we used to stay once a month at the Gold Coast Hilton, dine at the restaurant and get luxurious massages at Eforia.

That was 2015, and this is 2023.

We are staying in a two-bedroom apartment right on the water, and it could not be better than that. Right now, I’m looking out the windows at what could only be described as an idyllic sunrise breaking over a relatively calm ocean, with the sound of waves continuously breaking on a pristine beach.

It’s just after 7 in the morning, and there are a lot of hardy souls taking their morning constitutional, some with exuberant dogs frolicking as they do at the waterline.

I’m not one of them. The thought of tackling the three fights of steps to get from the apartment to the ground floor is not so daunting going down. It is the going back up that’s the killer.

I did that trip six times yesterday moving stuff from the car to the room. By the sixth, I was done. The rest of that afternoon was watching the rain come in from the sea and towards the late afternoon, a rainbow that came with it, practically ending right on the beach in front of us.

No pot of gold, though.

The difference between staying in a hotel room and in a fully functional apartment is the fact you can cook your own food.

Whilst the nightly rate is basically the same for the room, not having to dine our every lunch and dinner can save a fortune.

The added benefit is that if you are doing this in another country, you can spend some very interesting hours in their supermarkets, or just markets looking at the different types of food they have.

We have done this in England, Italy, France, and China, to name a few. By far, the most fascinating was China. We couldn’t read the labels, so it was guess what’s in the packet.

Or not!

Of course, when on holiday, a must-do is to see the sights. After all, you don’t go on a holiday just to sit in the room…

…or on the balcony watching the waves roll in, or watch the clouds go by.

Given that neither of us is very mobile, it’s usually exactly what we do, but being with others, we will be doing some other activities.

Besides I’m one of those people who like to have a food theme whilst away, like the quest for the best meat pie, a quest for the best friend battered fish, or the best-fried potato chip.

Since we are by the sea, there will be a fish and chips moment, and though in this world of convenience, even fish and chip shops get their food in plastic bags, there are still some who batter their own fish and cut and cook their own chips.

The delight will be to find one and then savour every mouthful.

I’ll let you know if I find one.

The cinema of my dreams – I always wanted to go on a treasure hunt – Episode 47

Here’s the thing…

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

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

But these dreams are nothing to laugh about.

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

…

“A hundred square miles, that must have run up the coast close to Patterson’s Reach?” I asked.

Patterson’s reach was about five miles to the north, a small town, where there was little fishing done and allegedly a lot of ferrying drugs being dropped off by large ships coming along the offshore shipping lanes.  No one could prove it, and every trap set by the coast guard had failed to find any evidence.  That meant that someone was tipping them off.

It was also the domain of the Cossatino’s who discouraged anyone else from living there.  It was said that Cossatino owned all of the lands the town sat on and the people who lived there worked for him.

“Only as far as Patterson’s reach and then inland for about 20 miles, about as far as the Faultline and perhaps the closest point between the foothills and the sea.  Ormiston had bought all the land thinking that the treasure was buried on it.  You see, he had a map too, long before Boggs senior had started forging them for the Cossatino’s.”

And in hearing that it begged the question, who had first found the original map?  If Cossatino found it, then getting Boggs senior to forge a lot of useless maps would hide where it really was.

What if Boggs ‘original’ map was yet another elaborate forgery, given to him by Cossatino to create others?  I put that thought to one side.

I wondered if Boggs had been to see her, to get some background.  If there was going to be an expert on the treasure, if it existed or not, she would know.  In fact, she probably knew old man Ormiston.

“Does that map still exist?”

“Perhaps.  It was not found in his effects after he died.  Spent his last years in an asylum.  It wasn’t not finding the treasure, or losing his fortune that sent him mad, it was Alzheimer’s, poor old man.  Whatever documents that were found when his relatives cleaned the place out were brought to the library to be stored, cataloged at some point, and one day when someone decides to write a history of the area, no doubt they want to see the collection.”

“I couldn’t look at the papers?”

“Are you interested in writing a local history.  I’m sure your hunt for the treasure and the many fruitless other expeditions looking for it would make a very entertaining chapter.”

“Maybe I will.”

If that was what it took to look at the documents.  There might be something interesting to be found.  Especially if he kept a diary.  I thought it best not to ask, and fuel suspicions.

“Elmer said there might be relations of Ormiston still around here?”

“Yes, I did say that which I now regret.  There are, but I don’t know who they are.  I knew his wife’s family name was Maunchen, and that the Maunchens came from California originally, and there’s nothing to say they didn’t go back.  Certainly, the wife would be deceased by now, and they had three daughters, all of whom would have married, and changed names.  You’d have to go digging through wedding records in at least a dozen parishes.  If you were thinking of investigating.”

“Sound like too much hard work.  Besides, the treasure doesn’t; exist.  I’m only helping Boggs to keep him from doing something stupid.”

“Like father, like son, unfortunately.  You do realize the father made some outlandish claim in the hotel one night that he had found the clue to where the treasure was buried.   Trouble was, he was prone to making outlandish claims, and by that time, a drunkard.  He went missing the next day, and has never been seen since.”

“You think he found it?”

“No.  But I’m guessing someone thought he had and killed him trying to find out.  We’ll never know.”

“A lesson to be learned then.  I’ll keep an eye on Boggs junior just in case he’s thinking of making an equally outlandish claim.”

“You do that.”

She opened a drawer and pulled out a form and handed it to me.

“What’s this for?”

“A request to look at the archives.  You have to register, and I have to give you a special card, the key to the history of Arkwon County.”

Where it said signature, I signed it.

“You fill out the rest.  When do you want me to pick up the card?”

“Monday next week.  In the meantime, be careful.”

She said it like she knew I would be walking into trouble.

…

© Charles Heath 2020