Midwinter Mystery - " The Town of No Return " - Chapter Nine

_{Midwinter Mystery – Chapter Nine}

_{"Wayward Souls"}

"Wheee ..” George whistled in astonishment, 

_{“.. no wonder he's barmy !” he leant over the small table and gently dropped the book back down. John's brow furrowed as he considered the more somewhat fanciful facets of the strange ecclesiastical tale. Struggling to see the relevance, if any, this had with the curious disappearance of Sergeant Keel and the lost time with the 'outside world'. He ran his fingers slowly over the surface of the books, occasionally moving one aside to view the ones beneath, taking stock of their titles along the way, ' Folklore, Myths and Legends', ' Mysticism in Mistry' and ' Tales of Mystery and Imagination' were ones that stood out as being of particular interest. “ It appears that your Sergerant is quite the prolific reader, but these are all fairytales and superstitions without any basis in truth or reality.” he announced reassuringly. John was concerned that this morbid little library might be more an indication of a unstable mind, than an interest in the supernatural. His thoughts drifted back to the room as he caught sight of an old suitcase pushed far back under the bed and then became aware of the wall with it's faded photographs, obviously of a young Sergeant Keel, accompanied by family, friends and other such acquaintances. With all this he added the recent discoveries of the wardrobe with it's collection of clothes still occupying hanging spaces, and the chest of drawers which had given up it's hidden treasures: a silver plated, full hunter pocket watch, with the engraving inside that read 'To David, Happy 21st Birthday ! May you always find time to enjoy life, love Mum and Dad', and a WW2 medal. John felt compelled to mention it to others, with a growing sense of admiration for the unaccounted sergant, “I found a medal in the drawer,” he explained pointing towards the chest, “ it was presented to 'Petty Officer David Keel' for 'Conspicuous Gallantry in 1942. Looks like he was quite the war hero, did you know that ?”}

_{"Yeah, he was in the navy during the war, saw quite a bit of action by all accounts,” volunteered Buster. “He seems like a good man, someone you could rely on, someone I'd like to have around,” John said, with a growing sense of respect for his absent Sergeant, making a conscious effort not be too obvious about his feelings about the rest of 'team'. “Well we now have a full name and confirmation of a war record, I'm starting to build quite a picture of the man, all that's left to do... is find him !”}

_{Taking everything into consideration, the personal effects - the man may have left but his life was still very much present - and the condition of the room, beyond it's general state of disorder, convinced John that there was no evidence of any struggle taking place, Indeed, he surmised that whatever happened to Sgt.Keel he had probably departed of his own volition, and in all likelihood had expected to return the same way. The fact that he hadn't suggested that he had been prevented from doing so by someone... or something. The preliminary search of the room gave rise to his belief that there may be more to be gained from within it's old walls, that missing lives and hidden secrets were still lurking, waiting to tell their own story.}

_{John gave the situation his deepest consideration, before reaching an inescapable conclusion, “ I think it's best if I move in here, in this room..” he announced, not that he was seeking their approval more as if he was justifying the action to himself, “.. until we find the Sergeant, that is.” John looked at one and then at the other to gauge their reactions at this unexpected revelation, but they seemed only mildly uncomfortable with the prospect of having to share a 'full house' with him.}

_{"As the highest ranking officer present I should be here at the center of things, offering my guidance and support to you both and indeed to anyone in need of help in a time of emergency,” stated John with a congenial smile to lighten the move.} 

_{“Wot about all the sergeants clobber, then ?” George asked boldly.”} 

_{“Leave that to me, I'll make sure everything's stored away safely, AND take full responsibility for it until he comes back, fair enough ?”} 

_{“ 'Ere if you're gonna stay with us yer gonna have to pay yer way, you know !” Buster chimed already grappling with the complex fiscal practicalities of it all. “ Don't worry about me, I'd rather take care of care of myself anyway, if that's all right with everyone ?” John confirmed as he commenced tidying the books into some sort of order.}

_{"If that's how you want it, but it were always good enough fer the Sergeant,” Buster excepted.} 

 _{“Well, I'm not the Sergeant, and I prefer to do things my own way, thank you very much,” John leaned down with both hands on a small stack of books as he pressed home his intention. “ Actually, all this talk of belongings reminds me that I still have some luggage of my own at the train station that requires picking up.” He thought for a moment and then looked at George, “ As the owner of the only vehicle around here, I'd appreciate it if you'd drive over there and collect it for me,”} 

_{“Yeah, course I will, I was heading over that way this aft'rnoon, anyway,” agreed George. “Good ! that's settled then, I'll make a start on clearing things up in here, you'll run out to the station and you..” John's train of thought derailed slightly as he looked at Buster, “ ..you, just go somewhere, ANYWHERE, PLEASE !” “ He can come with me, if you like, I could do with another body to move some stuff,” offered George.} 

_{“ A BODY, HIM ! I'm not sure if he qualifies for that position. I mean look at him, he can barely move himself let alone anything else !” John shook his head slightly at the situation.} 

_{“ Just what do you expect of him ?”} 

_{“ Well, Ballast you could say !” replied George. “Ballast ?”} 

_{“ Yeah, y'know like weighing me down,”} 

_{“ Well, that I CAN believe,”} 

_{“ No, it's the car's suspension see, it's shot on the driver's side, probably 'cos of that near run in I 'ad the other night, anyway I need something to balance things out,”} 

_{“Oh, you mean like a - dead-weight,” followed John.} 

_{“ Yeah, I guess yer could say that,”} 

_{“Well, in that case you definitely have the right man, take him with my blessing …. you'll need it,” John looked between the two of them, and then as an after thought. ”Oh, and I advise you to get those springs checked over as soon as you can, before matters get any worse,”} 

_{“ Will do, chief !”} 

_{“ Well then, don't just stand there get going, the pair of you. I want to get this all finished by tonight !” They dawdled their way - almost in concert - towards the door only just avoiding a mid-door collision at one point.}

_{As the door closed behind them, an air of serenity descended upon John and he allowed a small sigh of relief to escape. He was pleased to be alone once more, and the opportunity to begin his investigation in earnest, in the orderly and professional manner that he was accustomed to. Where would the investigation take him ? Was there an ulterior motive to Sergeant Keel's interest in folklore ? Were his two officers trustworthy - they were certainly hiding something ? And had a crime even be committed here, or was it simply a case of incompetency ? Ironically, the one person whose word John felt he could trust right now, was the man he was investigating ! But until he knew more about things, this was his station, and he was going to be run it his way, with his rules, and from here on in he was going to be watching everybody, very closely.}

   _{It was a chilly dreary afternoon, not unlike the inside of the station, when John finally stepped outside. He pulled on a pair of black leather gloves, as far as they would go, over a set of blue tinged hands numb with the cold, and proceeded along the short front path towards the street beyond it's gate. After a time consuming and questionably productive morning he had succumbed to a call of nature, and ventured out in search of something to eat, or at least whatever semi-hot, mildly-digestible – or semi-digestible, mildly hot - offering he could track down on this desolate excuse of a Sunday.}

_{He walked leisurely towards the Crow Inn, or 'the scene of the crime' as he preferred to call it, which was guilty of passing food off as being edible, but he didn't have much choice in the matter as it appeared to be the ONLY place in the village that was open. And since he needed to check out of his room there and collect his belongings, it seemed an open and shut case of ' two birds with one stone' or perhaps more aptly ' one crow on two accounts'. As he approached the pub, from the other side of the road, he noticed that it was almost directly opposite a church with a strangely looking twisted spire, a fact that he'd missed when he passed it by earlier that day. Slowing to a virtual standstill, as his curiosity was roused by some wild flowers, sheltering under a rampant hedge that supported the wooden stake fencing skirting the cemetery grounds. He had just crouched down to get a closer look at them when, “ Ahh, there you are ! You little devil !” came a voice from out of nowhere. “Who's there ?” John called out, spinning his head around to isolate it's invisible source. Although he had been startled by the unexpected interruption, part of him questioned if anyone was really there at all, or if it was just another of his mental aberrations. “Come on now, show yourself !” he demanded, becoming increasingly agitated with the continual surprises, the darker aspects of the case, and feeling the outsider to everything and everyone, all these factors were taking a toll on his nerves.     “ Oh, I am sorry. I didn't know any anyone was standing there ,” a clean shaven middle-aged gentleman with short receding grey hair, swept back to one side, which currently was in a state of disarray, rose from behind the hedge. “I suppose I was too taken with my 'big game hunt'... MOLES !” he explained holding up a curious little contraption. “They play havoc with the stones, you know,” he pushed a pair of black horn-rimmed glasses back from the brink of his nose.} 

_{“ Right, so you're setting traps for them, then?” John asked.} 

_{“ Yes, well I don't wish them any harm you understand, we are all god's children after all. No, I'll just capture them and release the lot into the arms of mother nature,” replied the stranger, gently dropping the trap to the ground. “ Well, it's good to have a hobby, ” John mused. “ Ha ! I'm not sure it's so much a hobby, more a necessary evil,” the slim would-be trapper replied, a twinkle in his eyes revealing the humour in the situation. “ Actually, this rather reminds me of an account in France, many years ago, where a church actually resorted to issuing an excommunication order on their mice population, forbidding them from attending services.” 
“ I take it, that it didn't work ?” surmised John. 
“ Heavens, no ! Don't you know... rodents are terrible at Latin, ” the stranger replied, with a mischievous smile.} “Personally, I think I'd prefer mice in the chapel to... bats in the belfry !” he finished, extending an invitation to meet him at the cemetery gates for a friendly rendezvous.

_{"You must be that Inspector fellow, the one everyone's talking about,” he assumed.} 

_{“ Yes, I am that DETECTIVE. Inspector fellow ! So, who 'must' you be then ?” John returned, scrutinizing his challenger's appearance for any tell-tale signs of his profession, but none were apparent. His attire was garden casual in theme, a pair of well worn denim dungarees, with a cream, checked twill shirt under a light green, corduroy overcoat. “ Lord, how amiss of me, I do apologise. I'm obviously a bit out of practice meeting new people,” the stranger dismissed his oversight, removing one of the garden gloves from his left hand he extended it towards John. “ Father James, pleased to meet you,” came the introduction, as they shook hands. “ Detective. Inspector John Foxe, how do you do, “ John replied.} 

_{“ My goodness, that's quite some moniker you have there. Why, it's almost as long as one of my sermons,” the vicar quipped. John stared blankly at the vicar, it seemed everyone had something to say about his title, which he was determined to keep, as it had taken most of his adult life to achieve it,} 

_{“ Hmm, quite,” he responded. “ That's an unusual looking church you have there. It's not Catholic, is it ?”} 

_{“ No, we're a non-denominational church, I'd be rather surprised if you've heard of it – The Sacred Order of Wayward Souls.”}

_{“ You're right, that's a new one on me.”} 

_{“ Actually, it's a very old one, Inspector. Old and decaying, I'm afraid to say. We face imminent extinction in these changing times of ours. We're spread few and far between the coastal lines of this fair isle, but what we lack in numbers we more than make up for in devotion, I can assure you.”} 

_{“ Why only the coastal towns ?” John found the notion of a regional religion somewhat of an oddity. “ Ah, well it's a belief that was borne by the villagers who lived and worked in the areas that were dependent on the sea for their livelihood. They banded together seeking what little solace or comfort they could, in the darkness of adversity. Sunken ships, the loss of precious cargo's and their poor unfortunate crews, consigned to the watery depths for all eternity,” responded Father James. 
“ 'Wayward Souls', huh ! Tell me, is everything different around here ?”} 

_{“ Do you mean different or unfamiliar, Inspector ? I admit that Mistry life requires a certain period of... readjustment, shall we say,” empathized the Father.}

_{"That's something of an understatement, Father,” agreed John. “ It's just that things seem rather backward around here, I guess"} said John, looking beyond the vicar at the cemetery behind, and it's collection of unusual, semi-subsided headstones. 

“ 'Backward', no I wouldn't say that, exactly” the vicar spoke in a soft reverent tone in defense of the village's reputation. “ You must appreciate, Inspector, that this place has a long and intriguing history, one that almost predates sense or reason, as we know it, an existence forged from the fires of superstition and fear. If anything I'd say it was the world that moved and simply left Mistry behind. We seem to attract the lost and forlorn, those who are either running away or searching for something. And some just feel- for whatever reason - abandoned by society and it's modern ways. So, perhaps you can hardly blame them for their little foibles or 'eccentricities', they are as much trapped here as... you or I, in a way.” 

“ I'm NOT trapped here ! “ John denied vigorously. 

“ I'm sorry, I didn't mean to cause you any distress, I was merely demonstrating a point that you were unable to leave here right now, even though you so wished to ! ” 

“ I'll leave when I'm ready, and not before, Father.”          

“Yes, of course, Inspector,” said the vicar, allaying Johns's stance while he cleaned his eyeglasses with an old handkerchief. “ Well, I hope you'll join me for a drink and a friendly game of draughts sometime. We have to make a our own entertainment here most nights, except on Thursday's,” offered the vicar returning his glasses to their original position.                         “ Why, what happens on Thursdays ?” “ Ah, we have the pleasure of, 'Jay, and his organ', over at the Crow Inn.”  

_{“ I'll bare that in mind for the future, thank you,” said John, wincing slightly.} 

 _{“Actually that reminds me, I have to get over there now, before they stop serving food for the day. Otherwise my stomach will never forgive me !” he explained.} 

_{“ Of course, Inspector. Go in peace, so don't order the game pie,” the vicar mockingly advised. With that John took his leave, and set off across the road towards the Inn. Father James watched the policeman's progress with curious interest, not even distracted by the mysterious gruff voice from the hedge, “ He sounds like trouble, to me !”}    

_{“ Yes, I fear you may be right, Edward. In which case..” the vicar answered without turning around, “.. he's come to the right place, hasn't he !”}

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