What would you do if you were mistaken for someone else?
What if when you answer a knock on the door to your hotel room, and the police crash their way in with bullets flying everywhere in a show of unnecessary force.
Of course, the police don’t know you are not the criminal, and facing a possible disaster, do what they have to, to apprehend the man they believe is a murderer.
Our main character now has time to contemplate the ramifications of what just happened in hospital. So much for attending the conference.
Of course, he has other things to think about, the self confessed gate crasher Maryanne. The old adage, if something is too good to be true, it generally is.
Looking forward, there’s some plotting to do.
How can it be possible that our main character has a doppelganger? At the moment it’s just a case of someone who looks like him, and the police have ruled him out as the man they’re looking for.
It’s a story that’s going to play out in a few chapter’s time.
Today’s effort amounts to 1,871 words, for a total, so far, of 13,616.
Bus tours were hectic at the best of times, so many stops in so short a time. It was ideal if you wanted a taste of each country, then come back later to explore those you liked the most, but you have to be willing to make sacrifices.
Then, on tour, it does not bode well if you embark on the tour with your relationship teetering on the edge of disaster. If relations were tense before, then by the second or third day, it was going to be like a volcano erupting if anything went wrong.
It was my idea we go away for a short, sharp tour, what was to be the first together for nearly 20 years together. The children had grown up and we had sacrificed travel until they had left the nest. Eloise was transitioning from being a full-time mother to back in the workforce, and I was scaling back so we could spend more time together.
Unfortunately, I didn’t get the memo that told everyone, but me, that our relationship was foundering. It was not as if I didn’t ask the right questions, it was just I interpreted the answers incorrectly. It thought the measured reluctance to go was her reluctance to be away from her grandchildren.
It was not.
There were other factors in play, those little annoyances that caused discussions to become arguments, and then glowering resentment. That summed up the mornings where we had to be up and ready early to have breakfast, pack and be ready to embark the bus at an early hour, following late nights.
Eloise was not at her best under those conditions. Day two had been a trial, day three a battle, and day four, well, that’s where everything went wrong. The alarm didn’t go off, we got up late, and by the time we came down, the bus had gone.
Yes, we literally missed the bus.
I went to bed on day three with a premonition. It was something she said in response to a comment I made, one that didn’t register at the time, but came back to haunt me in the dead of night.
She said, in not so many words, if I had not dragged her on this wild goose chase…and stopped there, perhaps realising she was about to say something she shouldn’t. I thought it was to spare my feelings.
It was not.
In the last few months, after getting a promotion at her workplace, a company run by my best friend who had always said she could come and work for him when she was ready to go back to work, that it was too soon to go away.
Even when she said it, I missed the implication.
There had been late nights and trips away, the added responsibility, she had said. She said she wanted to make the right impression. Tony, my friend, had said that she was perfect for the job, and said she was in good hands to learn the trade. I thought, given the new independence and responsibility she would recover from the slight depression from no longer being needed.
At three in the morning, staring at the ceiling, I finally got it. The change in her had been remarkable. She was happy again with a job she liked and a place to be.
So was Tony, whom I had noticed over the same journey, after being dumped by his wife, had been in a similar sort of funk.
It didn’t take rocket science to see what was happening.
Down in the breakfast room, we were having coffee. There was a smug expression on her face, one that told me that she had no intention of continuing this farce, and after getting no sleep, I was both tired and where I should be annoyed, I was a little numb.
“Should I Call the tour director, ask him if we should try to re-join the tour, or should we just let it slide?”
She gave me a look of disdain, or what I thought was disdain. I was perhaps feeling a little judgemental.
“If the bus had not been leaving so early, we might have made it. Perhaps it was not a good idea to pick one that requires us to be up at the crack of dawn.”
Any other time, I might have got annoyed, but now I knew, or thought I knew what was driving her attitude, I just sighed inwardly and put on my happy face. “Then what do you suggest we do?”
“We’re somewhere in Germany, and we don’t speak the language. It might be a little difficult…”
“You forget I travel to Europe a lot. I might not be fluent, but I have got a smattering of a few of the languages.” Particularly Italian, but that was down to spending time with Gabriella, one of the subsidiary managers I had to deal with.
“I’m surprised then you wanted to come here for a holiday.”
“It was for your benefit, and mine to a lesser extent, simply because travelling to these countries doesn’t mean I got to tour them. You know how it is, meetings from dawn to dusk and not much time for anything else. Besides, I was happy to wait until you could come with me before I did any sightseeing.”
Her phone was sitting on the table, and suddenly rang. She almost managed to snatch it up before I saw the caller ID. Tony. She disconnected the call without answering. It was not the first time it had rung.
My turn to give her a look of disdain. “You should have answered it.”
“It was nothing.”
I had my phone with me and looked up Tony’s number then dialled it.
“George, this is a surprise. How’s the trip going?” He said, knowing who it was calling him.
“I’m sure Eloise has kept you fully informed, but from my perspective, not so great.”
I could feel Eloise staring at me.
“I’m sorry to hear that, but she…”
“Tony, don’t insult my intelligence. I know. And I’m not angry or annoyed or anything really. I blame myself for being so stupid. I thought I’d call you, since she didn’t answer, to tell you she’ll be coming home. I’ll take her to Berlin and get her a flight back as soon as practicable. We can talk, if you like, when I get back, but that might not be for a while.”
“It’s not what you think.”
“It probably is, Tony, but like I said, I’m neither angry or annoyed. I’ll let you get back to work, and Eloise will no doubt call you soon.”
I disconnected the call and put the phone on the table.
“You’ve got it all wrong, George.” It was a measured response, and one I expected.
“The last three or so months tell me a different story, Eloise. You’re happy, and it had nothing to do with me. All I seem to do is make you angry, and I can see why now. I have to accept responsibility for the mistakes I’ve made. None of this is your fault.”
“Tony is a good friend, George, but it’s not what you think. I might have thought once of twice about having a relationship with him, he certainly thinks we are heading in that direction, but I haven’t done anything, nor would I.”
“He makes you happy, Eloise. I don’t and believe me that’s all I want for you. Perhaps I was too wrapped up in my own little world to notice how much we’ve drifted apart. AS I said, that’s more my fault, not yours. And I don’t blame you for wanting more than I can give you.”
“Don’t you love me anymore?”
“You always were, are, and will be the only one Eloise. That will never change. It doesn’t matter what I think or feel, you have to decide what is best for you, and I want nothing other than what’s best for you. If that means being with someone else, then so be it. I will not stand in your way, or make things difficult for you.”
“And if that’s not what I want?”
“What do you want?”
“To hear you tell me that you love me, like you used to tell me.”
“I thought you knew that.”
“You stopped saying it. And, yes, you have been in your own little world, and I expect that was because I spent too much time looking after the children, and being too tired to make time for you, so I too should accept some responsibility for the mess we are in.”
Not what I was expecting to hear.
“Like I said, you don’t have to make excuses, the fault is mine.”
“No, it’s not that simple. You know, it seems stupid that we had to travel umpteen thousand miles to the middle of nowhere, just to finally have a meaningful conversation. Do you actually know where we are, because I don’t. And what’s strange to me is that I don’t really care. I’m going to say this once, George, so listen carefully. I do not love Tony, nor am I having an affair with him. What he thinks is going on is his problem, not mine. I have a husband, and I care as much about him as he cares about me now that he has finally told me. I do not want to continue this bus tour, but I do want to see Europe, so firstly, we have the room until eleven this morning which gives us three hours to reacquaint ourselves with each other. Then you’re going to hire a car, and we are going to find our own way, perhaps get a little lost along the way, and the best thing about that is that we will get lost together.”
She stood, held out her hand, and said, “Now, come with me, and we shall speak of this no more.”
To write a private detective serial has always been one of the items at the top of my to-do list, though trying to write novels and a serial, as well as a blog, and maintain a social media presence, well, you get the idea.
But I made it happen, from a bunch of episodes I wrote a long, long time ago, used these to start it, and then continue on, then as now, never having much of an idea where it was going to end up, or how long it would take to tell the story.
That, I think is the joy of ad hoc writing, even you, as the author, have as much idea of where it’s going as the reader does.
It’s basically been in the mill since 1990, and although I finished it last year, it looks like the beginning to end will have taken exactly 30 years. Had you asked me 30 years ago if I’d ever get it finished, the answer would be maybe?
My private detective, Harry Walthenson
I’d like to say he’s from that great literary mold of Sam Spade, or Mickey Spillane, or Phillip Marlow, but he’s not.
But, I’ve watched Humphrey Bogart play Sam Spade with much interest, and modeled Harry and his office on it. Similarly, I’ve watched Robert Micham play Phillip Marlow with great panache, if not detachment, and added a bit of him to the mix.
Other characters come into play, and all of them, no matter what period they’re from, always seem larger than life. I’m not above stealing a little of Mary Astor, Peter Lorre or Sidney Greenstreet, to breathe life into beguiling women and dangerous men alike.
Then there’s the title, like
The Case of the Unintentional Mummy – this has so many meanings in so many contexts, though I image back in Hollywood in the ’30s and ’40s, this would be excellent fodder for Abbott and Costello
The Case of the Three-Legged Dog – Yes, I suspect there may be a few real-life dogs with three legs, but this plot would involve something more sinister. And if made out of plaster, yes, they’re always something else inside.
But for mine, to begin with, it was “The Case of the …”, because I had no idea what the case was going to be about, well, I did, but not specifically.
Then I liked the idea of calling it “The Case of the Brother’s Revenge” because I began to have a notion there was a brother no one knew about, but that’s stuff for other stories, not mine, so then went the way of the others.
Now it’s called ‘A Case of Working With the Jones Brothers’, finished the first three drafts, and at the editor for the last.
I have high hopes of publishing it in early 2021. It even has a cover.
Bus tours were hectic at the best of times, so many stops in so short a time. It was ideal if you wanted a taste of each country, then come back later to explore those you liked the most, but you have to be willing to make sacrifices.
Then, on tour, it does not bode well if you embark on the tour with your relationship teetering on the edge of disaster. If relations were tense before, then by the second or third day, it was going to be like a volcano erupting if anything went wrong.
It was my idea we go away for a short, sharp tour, what was to be the first together for nearly 20 years together. The children had grown up and we had sacrificed travel until they had left the nest. Eloise was transitioning from being a full-time mother to back in the workforce, and I was scaling back so we could spend more time together.
Unfortunately, I didn’t get the memo that told everyone, but me, that our relationship was foundering. It was not as if I didn’t ask the right questions, it was just I interpreted the answers incorrectly. It thought the measured reluctance to go was her reluctance to be away from her grandchildren.
It was not.
There were other factors in play, those little annoyances that caused discussions to become arguments, and then glowering resentment. That summed up the mornings where we had to be up and ready early to have breakfast, pack and be ready to embark the bus at an early hour, following late nights.
Eloise was not at her best under those conditions. Day two had been a trial, day three a battle, and day four, well, that’s where everything went wrong. The alarm didn’t go off, we got up late, and by the time we came down, the bus had gone.
Yes, we literally missed the bus.
I went to bed on day three with a premonition. It was something she said in response to a comment I made, one that didn’t register at the time, but came back to haunt me in the dead of night.
She said, in not so many words, if I had not dragged her on this wild goose chase…and stopped there, perhaps realising she was about to say something she shouldn’t. I thought it was to spare my feelings.
It was not.
In the last few months, after getting a promotion at her workplace, a company run by my best friend who had always said she could come and work for him when she was ready to go back to work, that it was too soon to go away.
Even when she said it, I missed the implication.
There had been late nights and trips away, the added responsibility, she had said. She said she wanted to make the right impression. Tony, my friend, had said that she was perfect for the job, and said she was in good hands to learn the trade. I thought, given the new independence and responsibility she would recover from the slight depression from no longer being needed.
At three in the morning, staring at the ceiling, I finally got it. The change in her had been remarkable. She was happy again with a job she liked and a place to be.
So was Tony, whom I had noticed over the same journey, after being dumped by his wife, had been in a similar sort of funk.
It didn’t take rocket science to see what was happening.
Down in the breakfast room, we were having coffee. There was a smug expression on her face, one that told me that she had no intention of continuing this farce, and after getting no sleep, I was both tired and where I should be annoyed, I was a little numb.
“Should I Call the tour director, ask him if we should try to re-join the tour, or should we just let it slide?”
She gave me a look of disdain, or what I thought was disdain. I was perhaps feeling a little judgemental.
“If the bus had not been leaving so early, we might have made it. Perhaps it was not a good idea to pick one that requires us to be up at the crack of dawn.”
Any other time, I might have got annoyed, but now I knew, or thought I knew what was driving her attitude, I just sighed inwardly and put on my happy face. “Then what do you suggest we do?”
“We’re somewhere in Germany, and we don’t speak the language. It might be a little difficult…”
“You forget I travel to Europe a lot. I might not be fluent, but I have got a smattering of a few of the languages.” Particularly Italian, but that was down to spending time with Gabriella, one of the subsidiary managers I had to deal with.
“I’m surprised then you wanted to come here for a holiday.”
“It was for your benefit, and mine to a lesser extent, simply because travelling to these countries doesn’t mean I got to tour them. You know how it is, meetings from dawn to dusk and not much time for anything else. Besides, I was happy to wait until you could come with me before I did any sightseeing.”
Her phone was sitting on the table, and suddenly rang. She almost managed to snatch it up before I saw the caller ID. Tony. She disconnected the call without answering. It was not the first time it had rung.
My turn to give her a look of disdain. “You should have answered it.”
“It was nothing.”
I had my phone with me and looked up Tony’s number then dialled it.
“George, this is a surprise. How’s the trip going?” He said, knowing who it was calling him.
“I’m sure Eloise has kept you fully informed, but from my perspective, not so great.”
I could feel Eloise staring at me.
“I’m sorry to hear that, but she…”
“Tony, don’t insult my intelligence. I know. And I’m not angry or annoyed or anything really. I blame myself for being so stupid. I thought I’d call you, since she didn’t answer, to tell you she’ll be coming home. I’ll take her to Berlin and get her a flight back as soon as practicable. We can talk, if you like, when I get back, but that might not be for a while.”
“It’s not what you think.”
“It probably is, Tony, but like I said, I’m neither angry or annoyed. I’ll let you get back to work, and Eloise will no doubt call you soon.”
I disconnected the call and put the phone on the table.
“You’ve got it all wrong, George.” It was a measured response, and one I expected.
“The last three or so months tell me a different story, Eloise. You’re happy, and it had nothing to do with me. All I seem to do is make you angry, and I can see why now. I have to accept responsibility for the mistakes I’ve made. None of this is your fault.”
“Tony is a good friend, George, but it’s not what you think. I might have thought once of twice about having a relationship with him, he certainly thinks we are heading in that direction, but I haven’t done anything, nor would I.”
“He makes you happy, Eloise. I don’t and believe me that’s all I want for you. Perhaps I was too wrapped up in my own little world to notice how much we’ve drifted apart. AS I said, that’s more my fault, not yours. And I don’t blame you for wanting more than I can give you.”
“Don’t you love me anymore?”
“You always were, are, and will be the only one Eloise. That will never change. It doesn’t matter what I think or feel, you have to decide what is best for you, and I want nothing other than what’s best for you. If that means being with someone else, then so be it. I will not stand in your way, or make things difficult for you.”
“And if that’s not what I want?”
“What do you want?”
“To hear you tell me that you love me, like you used to tell me.”
“I thought you knew that.”
“You stopped saying it. And, yes, you have been in your own little world, and I expect that was because I spent too much time looking after the children, and being too tired to make time for you, so I too should accept some responsibility for the mess we are in.”
Not what I was expecting to hear.
“Like I said, you don’t have to make excuses, the fault is mine.”
“No, it’s not that simple. You know, it seems stupid that we had to travel umpteen thousand miles to the middle of nowhere, just to finally have a meaningful conversation. Do you actually know where we are, because I don’t. And what’s strange to me is that I don’t really care. I’m going to say this once, George, so listen carefully. I do not love Tony, nor am I having an affair with him. What he thinks is going on is his problem, not mine. I have a husband, and I care as much about him as he cares about me now that he has finally told me. I do not want to continue this bus tour, but I do want to see Europe, so firstly, we have the room until eleven this morning which gives us three hours to reacquaint ourselves with each other. Then you’re going to hire a car, and we are going to find our own way, perhaps get a little lost along the way, and the best thing about that is that we will get lost together.”
She stood, held out her hand, and said, “Now, come with me, and we shall speak of this no more.”
A single event driven by fate, after Ben told his wife Charlotte he would be late home one night, he left early, and by chance discovers his wife having dinner in their favourite restaurant with another man.
A single event where it could be said Ben was in the wrong place at the wrong time.
Who was this man? Why was she having dinner with him?
A simple truth to explain the single event was all Ben required. Instead, Charlotte told him a lie.
A single event that forces Ben to question everything he thought he knew about his wife, and the people who are around her.
After a near-death experience and forced retirement into a world he is unfamiliar with, Ben finds himself once again drawn back into that life of lies, violence, and intrigue.
From London to a small village in Tuscany, little by little Ben discovers who the woman he married is, and the real reason why fate had brought them together.
What would you do if you were mistaken for someone else?
What if when you answer a knock on the door to your hotel room, and the police crash their way in with bullets flying everywhere in a show of unnecessary force.
Of course, the police don’t know you are not the criminal, and facing a possible disaster, do what they have to, to apprehend the man they believe is a murderer.
Our main character now has time to contemplate the ramifications of what just happened in hospital. So much for attending the conference.
Of course, he has other things to think about, the self confessed gate crasher Maryanne. The old adage, if something is too good to be true, it generally is.
Looking forward, there’s some plotting to do.
How can it be possible that our main character has a doppelganger? At the moment it’s just a case of someone who looks like him, and the police have ruled him out as the man they’re looking for.
It’s a story that’s going to play out in a few chapter’s time.
Today’s effort amounts to 1,871 words, for a total, so far, of 13,616.
The writing proceeds at a steady rate because the ideas are there. There’s planning, but not too far into the future because, like any relationship, the one between the current two main characters has to develop, or die.
I waiting to see where their interaction takes us.
But, then, our main character now has to confront the notion he had a doppelganger, and not only that but he is also a criminal who just murdered someone, and his face is all over the television.
And this is an exact double, as if he had a twin brother.
The thing is, as far as he’s aware, he’s an only child.
But, there’s a knock on the door, and things are about to get very hectic…
Today’s effort amounts to 3,377 words, for a total, so far, of 11,745.
Which, unfortunately, I do not have a lot of in my step.
At last, we have reached the end of the alphabet because I’m running out of zip to write these blogs.
So…
Zip is the sing, the energy, the spring we have in our step, that usually gets us from a to b quickly. Without this zest, we would need to take a bus, train, or cab.
Then comes the variations like …
Zip code, we all have one of these, though in some countries it is called a postcode.
Zip it up, meaning do not speak, especially if you’re about to spill a secret.
A zip, which is a part of some types of clothing, usually in trousers, jeans, and skirts to name a few. Some dresses have long zips, some short, all seem to get tangled at one time or another, or, in the most embarrassing of situations, split.
Then there is a colloquial use of the word zip, meaning nothing, zilch, zero, in other words, a basis for of z words.
And that’s about as much zeal I’m going to show for writing this blog, and I’m going to close the book on it.
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.
“So, how do you know your way around this place?”
We walked slowly and carefully because there was a lot of rubbish in the alleyway, mostly from cracks in the walls where the concrete lining had broken away. At times there were mounds of rubble, and we had to carefully walk over these.
The ground was dusty and signs of footprints from past visitors, but it had been a long time, they had almost disappeared. There was also a dank, musty aroma, just short of being nauseating.
“The result of a misspent youth. Not many people know there’s a passageway around the whole perimeter of the mall, with only four entry points from outside, and two inside. This was how we escaped when we came along for some shoplifting.”
“Did you ever think of going straight?”
“Wasn’t much chance of that. There were expectations, and when I did try to give it up, I got ostracised, and ended up having to commit bigger follies to regain acceptance.”
We reached the end of the passage, where it turned right. At a guess, I would say we were in one of the corners of the mall, near the front entrance.
She turned left and then stopped. I could see the bottom of the steps leading up.
A stopped next to her and we shone both torches up the stairs. The light only went as far as a landing.
“What’s up there,” I asked.
“Offices. A holding cell. It’s where the security team used to be. It was separate from everything else. The security guys used to shake down the teenage girls up there, and not in a nice way.”
“You?”
“Once, but I told Vince and he sorted the bastard out. Didn’t happen again.”
A small sidebar to life in a mall.
She started up the steps. “If anything is going to be anywhere, this will be the place. The front of the mall was the safest part, built properly on solid foundations. As work continued, heading sideways and back, corners were cut. It’s not the only shoddy building there is in this area.”
The Benderby’s construction company had built most of the buildings in the county, always coming in at the lowest price. The only place not cracking or falling to pieces was the town hall.
At the top of the stairs, there was another wide passage with rooms branching off it.
It was a little less dusty and musty up here, but the rooms were quite messy, with papers scattered everywhere. It looked like someone had been looking for something. The first room didn’t look like it had been used since everyone left, nor the second.
The third was a different story. It was reasonably clean, a large desk in the middle of the room, and several boxes on the side with rolled-up papers, probably blueprints or plans.
I went in. Nadia kept going up the passage to check the other rooms.
I pulled out one of the rolls and laid it on the table.
It was a map, one that stretched a hundred miles in each direction and giving a very clear view of all the river systems, lakes, mountains, and coastline. Our town was almost in the middle of the chart.
I pulled out another and it was almost the same.
I looked at the writing at the bottom. One was dated 1972, the other dated 1956.
I kept rummaging through the rolls until I found one that was dated 1935. Our town wasn’t a town back then, nor did Patterson’s Reach exist.
And carefully examining the inlets, bays, and coves, given the parameters of what remembered from Boggs’s map, it could be any one of a dozen locations. I didn’t take that much notice when I’d been looking at Boggs’ collection.
“Hey, Smidge,” Nadia yelled out.
I wished she wouldn’t call me that.
I went out of the room and down the passage, past about four other offices, until the second to last. She was standing outside an office with a shut door. I tried it, and it was locked.
“A locked door in an abandoned Mall. What are the odds?”
“That there’s something in there that someone wants to keep secret. This has to be Alex’s lair. What was in that other room?”
“Maps.”
“Any use?”
“Perhaps. Boggs probably had the same, but I never took much notice of his. Trouble is, I was having difficulty believing there is a treasure buried out there somewhere.”
“A lot of people seem to be looking for this non-existent treasure, so there must be something in it.”
“Any of your keys fit?”
She tried the first, no, the second, the same one she had used to get in, and it worked. A skeleton key perhaps, that oped every lock in the place.
The door swung open and we shone the torch lights inside.
The writing proceeds at a steady rate because the ideas are there. There’s planning, but not too far into the future because, like any relationship, the one between the current two main characters has to develop, or die.
I waiting to see where their interaction takes us.
But, then, our main character now has to confront the notion he had a doppelganger, and not only that but he is also a criminal who just murdered someone, and his face is all over the television.
And this is an exact double, as if he had a twin brother.
The thing is, as far as he’s aware, he’s an only child.
But, there’s a knock on the door, and things are about to get very hectic…
Today’s effort amounts to 3,377 words, for a total, so far, of 11,745.
Thrills, Spills, and just a dash of Romance 