London Metro-lites - An Underground Story

_{Underground, Overground and Wandering Free}

_{The British London Underground can be a rather isolating experience, - well} to be honest all Metro based networks can be - what with the mad descent into the bowels of the earth, culminating with being herded into a claustrophobic vessel and fired through a shaft of darkness, rather like a loaded bullet shooting along the barrel of gun. But, there is an even greater and more subversive element at work here, a unique social environment, where the prevalence is towards a younger class of travelers. These particular human corpuscles – HOMOglobins – coursing through the system, DE-oxygenating it along their way, seemingly providing a hormonal and colourful energy for the network to thrives upon,

_{as if a regular transfusion of this vibrant life force was essential to it's constant running. On my recent excursion into the dark side, I couldn't help but notice that there was a distinct lack of passengers over middle age – or as I prefer to call it... the age of dissent – taking advantage of this form of transport, in a scene reminiscent from a subterranean version of "Logan's Run". Perhaps they simply desert the city at the weekend, preferring to head out into the country to satisfy their wild side, or take advantage of those weekend getaways that try to encourage us that there is more to life than the daily drudgery of it all, and at affordable prices. But, whatever the reason, I could only see young people, sharing my lonely passage into the unknown – I knew where I wanted to go, it was just trying to find the damnable place that was proving to be beyond my grasp.}

_{Only the disembodied voice supplied by the PA speakers, supplying any sense}

_{of reason or shared communal direction, urging the masses to “ Mind the age gap, and keep flowing on the left side,” as if fearful that anyone stopping may congeal the general circulation. He who hesitates were in danger of being washed along with the current flotsam and jazz buskers, without any hope of parole or assistance from anyone with a native tongue or living within at least a 50 mile radius. All the off-season traveller had to fall back on was the myriad of hieroglyphics – mockingly masquerading as line information - adorning the platform walls offering only faint hope and growing feelings of inadequacy, and the even more confusing overlaying sketch-o-graph prints, that a child of five could work out, so long as they had the IQ of Stephen Hawking – apparently Einstein's, a secret rail enthusiast, was close to completing his greatest work, a treatise on the simplification of a unified underground network, but stopped suddenly when he realised that it was just easier to prove his theory of relativity, and that dark matter was probably best left in space.}

_{In conclusion, I can only surmise that underground travelers fall into two main classes, those who are busy living life and those who know how to enjoy it.}

_{May your fares always be shorter than your journey.}

_{lifeandfunnies.blogspot.com}

Midwinter Mystery Series - Chapter Four

<sub>Midwinter Mystery - The Town of No Return

"Not Only... But Also “</sub>

_{The opaque misty mass drifted slowly over the snow covered ground, an unrelenting climatic phenomenon swallowing up everything in it's wake. Only the fluctuating weak spots in it's density offering any sanctuary to those 'careless' enough to be lost inside. Then, from somewhere in it's depths, two dim yellowish looking eyes materialized, growing larger and brighter as they traversed their way through the whitened haze.}

_{These particular set of “eyes” were actually a pair of halogen lamps belonging to one large and aged car, currently making it's nocturnal return trip to the small village of Mistry. The vintage vehicle trundled along, disrespectful of the night, the mist and it's driver's preoccupation with his female passenger. “ Are you sure, you know where you're going, George ?” questioned the rather concerned young lady seated next to him.} 

_{“ Yeah ! Of course I do, Doll ! ” he replied, in his best reassuring manner as he leant forward – his nose almost pressing against the windscreen – straining his eyes to peer through the ever thickening veil of mist ahead of them.}

_{The girl rolled down the side window and stuck her head out, squinting as the damp freezing air flooded her eyes. “ Well, I can't see a thing ! So, I don't know how you're managing to ?” she stated doubting her chauffeurs earlier declaration.}

_{George glanced over in her general direction, trying to locate the source of the chilling} outside forces, as the internal climate rapidly equalised with the external. 
“ Blimey, Pegs ! Close that window, will ya, it's flippin' brass monkees' out there, and you know the heater's not workin' !” he explained, becoming increasingly frustrated with the lack of progress on the journey home, and more importantly with his would-be girlfriend. Peggy let out a small grunt as she struggled to close the window, the handle too stiff and awkward for her to turn, “ I'm just saying, that if I don't get back in one piece, my dad won't 'alf be mad with you George ! And you know what a devil of a temper he has on him, that's all !” she said. He smiled weakly, trying to mask his true feelings in this matter, “ Look, don't worry about it, Babe ! I promise, I'll 'ave yer safely tucked up indoors before yer dad's even finish'd 'is last pint at the 'Spitting Feathers' ... 

_{scouts honour !” he said, throwing a feeble two finger scout salute to his eyebrow – it was a promise he sorely intended to keep, as he was only to well aware of her father's rather hot-headed reputation.}

_{George Clemens was young of soul, but had an air of worldly experience about him, which was surprising as he had never actually seen any of it. He was the personification of the term ' local lad', but he had big dreams and grander plans for his future, all he needed now was the money, resources, and a whole lot of luck. One of those high hopes, was the courting and betrothing of a certain young lady by the name of Miss Peggy Twelvepiece. In this personal mission, he had invested a considerable amount of time, effort and resources – to little or “No Chance !” avail.}

_{Peggy was an only child, and although not spoilt, her father – the gamekeeper of the Squires's, large estate - was overly protected of his 'little girl', and highly distrustful of any and all suitors, particularly if they had any connection with the local constabulary - and for some unexplained reason, an even stronger dislike of anyone who happened to have the name of.... George Clemens.}

_{Peggy had finally managed to close the window and had proceeded to set about} 'securing' her own attire, which had come loosened after wrestling with the handle. She was short, lithe slip of a girl - 21 years of age, but couldn't lay claim to having 'never been kissed before ' -  and was regarded by many, herself included, as being 'quite pretty'. She sat still for a moment recovering her composure and collecting her thoughts, a pensive frame of mind reflecting in her expression, ” Anyway, I thought we were going to see a romantic film this evening ! ” she eventually disclosed.

_{"Wot ! “ The Bride of Frankenstein !” He replied, laughingly.}

_{"Don't take that tone with me, Mr Clemens ! It was a perfectly reasonable assumption to make, after all, brides usually get married don't they, and weddings are supposed to romantic, aren't they ?” Peggy re-examined the facts as she understood them.}

_{"Ah ! Well, yes...” he flustered, his words falling over themselves for a reasonable answer,}  

_{“ ..that's right ! Marriage, is a very romantic... thingy, in fact I think it's THE most romantic thingy, EVER !” he smiled weakly, congratulating himself in the belief that he had satisfactory averted a potentially hazardous situation.
Peggy frowned, a furrow of concentration crossing her brow,} "And last month, didn't you take me to see that film, what was it called again... oh yes “ The BRIDES of Dracula” really, George, I'm beginning to wonder if you have something against marriage,” she extrapolated, folding her arms tightly across the chest and tossing her head - accompanied by a small upturned nose - up in the air to demonstrate dissatisfaction.

_{"Honestly, Pegs ! I don't have anything against marriage ! I think it's er … er … really good constitution, an' all that !” he tried to mount an argument for defense.}

_{" It's an INSTITUTION ! “ she corrected.}

_{" NAH ! It's not as bad as all that ! “ he said.}

_{" You, you... big LUMMOX HEAD !” she exclaimed in a fit of pique.}

_{George was taken aback by this outburst, stunned for words, there seemed no discernible recourse open to him. A feeling of hopelessness rose up threatening to put pay to the rest of his evenings plans.}

_{" NOOOO ! LOOK OUT !” screamed Peggy suddenly, pointing frantically at the ghostly hooded figure that mysteriously} appeared in the road ahead. George reacted with a high-panic cocktail of reflex and adrenaline, as he frantically wrenched the steering column hard right to avoid hitting the faceless, whitened apparition – as it turned to face them, raising it's arms up across it's body in an act of defiance or fear – and from there on in it became a fight between man and misguided machine, as he desperately wrestled the car for control. It's off road trajectory slewing them dramatically up one of the grassy verges, then down again, crossing back over the road, up over the verge on the opposite side. The assault against the frozen ground forces continued – as it's wheels bumped, jostled and bounced their way across the unfriendly terrain, whilst simultaneously weaving between the onslaught of trees. Then, an earth spewing climax befell them, as George stamped his foot hard down, pushing the brakes – and his luck – as far as he could, seemingly going through the floor at one point, in a last ditch attempt to stem the flow, hopefully, before crashing into the dark, broad towering tree, that was rushing dangerously towards them. There came a screeching, squealing uproar, as the car bucked, shuddered and slid under his command, finishing on a crescendo – a long unnerving, high-pitched howling, drowning out everything.

_{George slumped forward, his head resting upon the tops of his hands – which were still clamped steadfast to the steering wheel – he was physically and emotionally exhausted, neither of which condition was exactly a natural state to him. Slowly regaining his faculties he was lured further back to consciousness by the protracted shrilling, noise, that was starting to aggravate his growing headache. He righted himself back up to a sitting position, and took stock of his situation. A cursory inspection confirmed that nothing seemed broken or not where it should be, either to himself or his beloved car, it's engine was still running without any sign of disruption – there was even that odd familiar ticking sound that the motor would make whenever it overheated. But, he couldn't see anything that would explain the persistent alarm that continued to pierce the night.}

_{He looked over at his co-pilot, who was currently curled up in a ball on the floor, lying somewhere between being half out the door and half out of her mind. Her head hanging down, long brown tangled hair – recently restrained under an unflattering woolen hat - now loose and free - draped across her face. He placed a hand gently on her shoulder and apprehensively pulled her back up. As her hair fell away, he discovered that the cause of the unusual noisy emission was... Peggy ! Her unearthly siren song, was a 'Scream' Symphony, in the key of Terror, major.}

_{"Hey, It's okay ! It's all over now ! “ George patted her gingerly on the shoulder in an awkward, self-conscious manner as he attempted to offer soothing words of  comfort and solace.}

_{“ There, there, that's a good girl !”}

_{Then, hesitantly he asked, “ Are you alright, down there, then ?” as she began to unravel herself from the floor.}

_{"DOES IT LOOK LIKE I'M ALRIGHT, TO YOU ? YOU GREAT, BIG CLUMSY CLOD !” she snapped, slapinged his knee back in return.} 

_{“ What do you think you're playing at, you could have killed me.... or something !!” she admonished.}

_{"It weren't my fault ! It was that bloomin' geezer s}tepping right out in front of us, that did it !” he thumbed a closed hand back over his shoulder, indicating their past troubles.

_{"Did... did.. “ Peggy stammered her fearful thoughts out into the open, “ ..we hit him ?” her breathing becoming erratic with short, fast gulps as the trauma of the situation dawned on her.}

_{"I.. I..don't think so, “ George shifted nervously, a telltale fevered brow hinting of his deepening worry.}

_{"Well, don't you think we SHOULD be sure about that sort of thing,” she said marshaling her concerns.}

_{"I .. er ... guess so ! I mean ..er, yeah.. yeah of course, “ he nodded, as much to assure himself than Peggy. “ I'll .. er .. get out an' have a look around, then shall I ?“}

_{With that, he shoved hard on the door, putting his back into it which was no easy task given that it was now located just above his right shoulder - the door, not his back that is. A result of them being on an acute angle as the car's final resting place left the driver's side on a slightly elevated level – on top of an small unaccountable mound of earth.}

_{As he endeavored to climb out the door, Peggy attempted to return to her seat – placing her hands on either side of her, she began hauling herself back up – whilst removing a few errant strands of hair away from her eyes with a short sharp blow out the corner of her mouth. By now, George had managed to convince the door to stay open, by forcing it fully back on it's hinges, and was commencing his impersonation of a wholly ill-equipped mountaineer, struggling against the odds and an uncomfortable disposition, sitting at a 45 degree angle behind a large steering wheel whilst possessing the upper body strength of someone half his body weight.}

_{Peggy finally reappeared visible to the outside world, through the dirty steamed up windscreen. Reclaiming her recently dethroned seat, she felt secure enough to commence rummaging around in her handbag for an emergency repair kit – consisting of the basics: 1 x reflective surface ( compact mirror ), 1 x straightening tool ( hairbrush ), various restraining ties ( assorted safety pins ) and 1 x high visibility covering ( deep cherry lipstick ).}

_{George rolled his straggling lower half out of the window, and then - unable to resist the laws of motion – the rest of his body followed suite, rolling right out the car. Cat like reflexes, well honed muscle coordination, and Olympian levels of suppleness.... none of these attributes unfortunately, were at his disposal. Instead, he adopted the far more familiar ' falling to the ground like a sack of potatoes' technique that he had employed on so many painful previous occasions.}

_{His landing was not so much as ' tuck and roll' or even ' hit and run', more a case of ' hit rock and roll, and roll and roll !' only the car's running board preventing him from disappearing completely under it's chassis.}

"Ooooww ! Arrrrgh ! Ooohhh !” he groaned a medley of pain - which was threatening to become his signature tune – as he stretched an arm out to reach the outside handle, clamping it with a vice like grip, he began to extricate himself from floor. Once he had attained the more respectable vertical position, a long with a firm and even foothold, he proceeded towards the front of the motor – leaning against it for support as he went. He stopped for a moment to warm his freezing hands on it's heated engine cover, and listened to it's old, faithful motor, still chugging and spluttering away. The car's bodywork was 'decorated' with an array of bumps and dents – and even more scratches – all badges of honour in its long and loyal service to... it's careless log book holder.

_{He bowed low over the bonnet, his arms almost encompassing it in a friendly embrace, and in a hushed voice, acknowledged his gratitude for it's continual support, “ There, there, that's a good girl !” patting it gently as he did. Staring across it's long length – sloping down to the radiator grill - his attention was momentarily drawn to the thick mist gradually curling and swirling along, on it's slow nightly passage, highlighted by the two shafts of light from it's headlamps. Following directly on from there, he looked upon the massive oak tree – rearing up only inches away from them - that had been so close to denting something other than just the car.}

_{"Well ! Can you see anything, yet ? ” came the impatient little voice, from inside the car.}

_{George looked back over his shoulder, “ No, not yet ! Jus' give me a minute, will ya !” his curiosity starting to get the better of him. Passing between the car and the tree – the immobile and the unmovable – he walked back into the ever deepening murky shroud, trying his best to retrace their tracks in his quest for the missing stranger. Going as far as he could without losing sight of the car's glowing rear lights, fearing he might lose himself next if he did. The mist and the night conspired to isolate his senses, their resistance to sound and vision, offering nothing in return except the heavy damp air.}

_{George took a few more tentative steps into the unknown, before being disturbed by the haunting ringing of a lonely church bell, stabbing it's way through the wintry atmosphere. A religious calling, from somewhere, way off in the distance, broke the silent order of the moment, raising the hairs on the back of his neck, along with a worrying concern: Who was ringing it at this ungodly hour, and just what was it's intention – alarm or warning ? Only one thing was sure, thought George, it signaled trouble for someone, but for whom did it toll - only time would tell.}

_{He stood transfixed to the spot, caught between conflicting emotions – frantic hysteria and paralyzing fear – as he anguished over the worsening situation and his limited options. Then his face visibly dropped, the jaw slackened and the eyes were replaced by two small black shiny balls, for in a moment of clarity, he recalled, roughly, where they had 'landed', and even more importantly, the location and name of the nearest bell tower.}

_{"Oh, Crickey ! It's 'im... it HAS to be HIM !” he called back to the car and his expectant girlfriend, with the terrifying conclusion.}

_{" 'IM, WHO ?” came the slightly irritated reply.}

_{George started to run back towards the car, there wasn't any point searching now, struggling to reveal the identity of the unwelcome pedestrian, as if actually speaking the name gave it credence and substance. Finally, in a single bound, he leaped back inside the car, not bothering to close the door behind him properly, turned the engine over, threw it into gear and wildly exclaimed,} "It's The Mad Monk, Pegs ! THE MAD MONK OF MISTRY !”

_{lifeandfunnies.blogspot.com}

Midwinter Mystery Series - Chapter Three

_{The Town of No Return – Chapter Three}

_{“ A Funny Thing Happened on the Way to ...”}

    John, moved away from the station, just managing to side-step a line of precariously looking low-hanging icicles, from the roof's guttering, at the last moment. Preparing himself for the unwanted excursion ahead, he turned his tweed overcoat collar up around the ears – hoping to reduce exposure to the elements - and tugged his black trilby hat, further down, tightly over his head.

   _{A bright full moon made the most fleeting of appearances through a cloud filled night sky, below it the wintry landscape seemed to gleam and sparkle as a myriad of frozen ice crystals were caught in it's gentle lunar glow, and surrounding distant trees were little more than a collection of dark, silhouetted shapes set against the horizon.}

   _{Detective Inspector John Foxe, set off on the journey towards 'civilization', a long slow trek against the most inhospitable of terrains, waiting ahead of him. At first it was just the thought of the distance that concerned him, but after a while it was the growing cold and the condition of the long winding road, that really started to take it's toll. The bitter winter wind cut right through his clothes, numbing everything, but a determination to reach his destination. Whilst, what passed for a 'road', was nothing more than an indistinguishable snow ridden track without borders or end.}

   _{After, locating and crossing the old wooden walk through bridge,} he proceeded to doggedly follow the rest of the Station Master's directions towards the next landmark feature - the crossroads - which characteristically to this region... was not signposted. From there on in the going became tougher as the darkness seemed to close in around him the further he pursued the 'road' into the growing dense forest. Continuing along the woodland 'avenue' - heavily lined with a variety of tall, thin stark trees - he could hear the whistling wind playing it's lonely symphony on the organs of the forest, a supernatural composition, for his ears only. Added to this, he was plagued by the constant impromptu cascading of unwanted snow from the more thinner loftier branches and hampered by the restriction of any illumination as the trees filtered out any of the fleeting moon's rays, as it weaved itself in and out of the starless night cloud.

     _{John felt his feet beginning to slip and slide from under him, the tread in his shoes now being completely negated by the frozen packed ice deposited into their very soles by the deceptively deep snow. As he tried to maintain his balance and plot the most expedient course through the maze of trees and bushes – which consisted heavily of a thick gorse undergrowth - he became aware of an eerie silence. Only the sound of his own feet breaking through the crisp virgin snow, crunching and compressing it underfoot, and the serenading from some unseen owls – disturbed the tranquility of the unnatural scene.}

_{He stopped a moment for respite, his breath becoming short erratic gasps as his lungs filled with the freezing winter air, which seemed to becoming increasingly sharper with every inhalation. He'd just changed carrying the suitcase to his other side - it's constant collision against his kneecap having become a sore point – when he felt the ground rumble under his feet, followed by a chilling, in-human clamour from somewhere behind him. Turning to face this strange disturbance head on, a baying and wild eyed charging steed loomed out of the darkness baring rapidly down on him. Desperately discarding his bag into a nearby ditch and then throwing himself immediately after it as the rampaging bronco stormed it's way past. There then followed a crashing, rattling, ear-splitting sound of splintering wood against metal and a strangled human cry, “Whoooa, there boy ! Easy, Lad !”}

   _{John laid stunned and breathless – the landing had knocked the air out of him – for while, but the cold wet snow soon hastened his recovery. Slowly he raised himself to his knees, and from there he carefully rose to his feet, after conducting a brief inventory of appendages. Treading carefully back to the 'scene of the crime' he discovered that his assailant was a small pony and trap set-up, led by a considerable large sweat slathered carthorse and it's smaller, crumpled looking, distressed, sweat slathered driver.}

_{"Damn fool ! You could have killed me, man ! “ John shouted out furiously.}

_{"Who's that, there ?” the driver queried his unknown accuser, straining his eyes to look beyond their ability.}

_{"Never mind who I am ! Why the hell are you driving around like some crazed maniac, at this time of night ?” pressed John.}

_{"What ! Well, I don' have much choice in the matter, do I, not when a man's 'ome is at sake, !” answered the heavily sideburned driver.}

_{"Oh ! I see ! Whose home is in danger ?” John's tone changed to one of concern.}

_{"Mine ! Who else would I care about ?” the driver squinted at John oddly, as if to get a better measure of the man.}

_{"Your's ! Of course ! What ever was I thinking of !” replied John, sarcastically.}

_{"So, what's wrong with this house of your's, then ?” his curiosity getting the better of him.}

_{"It be on fire, that's whats 'wrong' with it !”}

_{"Ah, so you're rushing over there, to save what you can ! “}

_{"No, I be on me way to fetch the fire brigade, and bring 'em back with me !” said the driver.}

 _{"Wouldn't it be easier to just call them over the telephone? ”}

_{"NOPE !”}

_{"Why not ?”}

_{"Cos.... I DON'T HAVE ONE !” exclaimed the driver. 
“ Besides, it wouldn't of done much good even if I did, what with it being Sat'day, and all !”}

_{"Ah, Saturday ! That old chestnut again,” said John. “ But, please go on, enlighten me, what has Saturday to do with anything,” he continued.}

_{"Well, Emily, always goes to the pictures on a Sat'day night”}

_{"I see... well actually... I don't ! Who exactly is Emily ?”}

_{"She's the local switchboard operator !”}

_{"Let me guess, she's with that George fellow, too !”}

_{"That's right ! How d'yer know about that ?” the driver said, slightly surprised.}

_{"Lets just say, he's on my 'most wanted' list, right now ! ” John quipped.}

_{He approached the driver from his guarded position, behind a large tree, whilst still detaching clumps of the wild gorse bush from his overcoat, remnants from the near hit and miss incident, while the front of his trousers were saturated by lying in the snow, “ Look, are you heading any where near Mistry, by any chance? Only, I'd really appreciate a lift, if you were !” he asked.}

_{"Well, if it stops yer blathering then climb up, and be sharp about it ! I've wasted enough time on ye already !” responded the harassed driver.}

_{John hastily threw his suitcase onto the bench seat, between the driver and himself, and then took his place beside them. The driver whipped the reins, and commanded loudly, “ Gerrup, Boy ! Away with ye Lad ! “ The horse snorted, nodding and waving it's head, in the air, before taking up the slack and slowly breaking into a steady cantor.}

_{As they resumed their neck breaking mission through the night, John wondered if the trap had an emergency brake system fitted. “ How, do you know where you're going, I can't even see beyond your horse's head !” he expressed concern.}

_{"Ah ! Well, Lucky and me have bin travelling up and down this road, fer so long that we can tell where we are by the bumps in the road," the driver smiled proudly.}

_{"Hmmm, like a phrenological road map,"mused John.}

_{“ Eh ? Look don' worry y'self , Mister ! We know ev'ry inch of this old track, don' we boy ?” said the old boy, gently slapping the reins once more.}

_{This statement didn't help John's growing anxiety, especially as it was almost immediately followed, by a swift departure from the road, and a careering, jostling ride through a curtain of wet twigs and dead branches. Then, as quickly as began, it was over, and they were back on track again.}

_{"Haven't you ever heard of the old saying ' Less haste, and more... a full and long life'?” asked John, as he gripped harder onto the wooden bench seat.}

_{The driver glanced over at him, one of his wiry grey eyebrows arched in an expression of bewilderment, “ Look, Mister, we can't afford to dawdle abou', the nights one thing, but the mist is somethin' else all together,” he said.}

_{"What are you talking about, man ? There isn't any sign of mist !” questioned John.}

_{"Not yet ! But, mark my words, there will be, and it's gonna be a mighty thick one, I can feels it stirrin' in me bones,” there was an element of fear in the drivers voice.}

_{"Really?” doubted John, as he looked around him . “ Do you get many mists around here, then ?”}

_{"Aye, real heavy pea-soupers, that's what you city folk call them, ain't it ?”}

_{"What makes you think, I'm from the city ?”}

_{"Ye dress too fancy for these parts, ye talk funny, and nobody I knows walks around at night with a suitcase ! ”}

_{"Fair enough !” countered John, and then returned to the previous topic of conversation, “So, is that where Mistry, gets it name from – the weather ?”}

_{"Mebbe ! One of the reasons, anyway”}

_{"What would the other ones be then ?”}

_{"We don't talk about 'em, not to strangers anyway. But, you'll find out for y'self soon enough, 'specially if you go 'round pokin' your nose into things that don't concern ye.”}

_{"Well, that's an occupational hazard for me I'm afraid to say, asking questions is my business” said John.}

_{"It's not the questions ye have to worry about, Mister.... it's the answers”}

_{After that, they rode together but in tandem silence, one waiting for the inevitable, the other a sign - that the end was near. John was the one to break first, as another imponderable dawned on him, “ Just, why do you call your horse, 'Lucky', anyway ?”}

_{"Ahh ! 'Cos, he's blind in the left eye.”}

_{"I fail to see whats so 'lucky', about being blind in one eye ! ” stated a slightly flummoxed, John.}

_{"Well.. he's got one good one, don' he ! What are you, one of those 'Pissomists' – eyes half closed – types ?” speculated the driver.}

_{"That's PESSIMIST ! “ exclaimed John. “ And, NO, I'M NOT ! We obviously just have different views on the definition of good fortune, that's all !” He exhaled, deeply, through his mouth, trying to dispel this irrational line of thinking.}

_{Then, on the subject of 'second sight', he concluded, “ It must be quite tiring having to be the lookout for the both of you, especially in these conditions.”}

_{"Aye, even 'arder since the cataract took me right eye,” the driver confessed.}

_{"WHAT ! You mean you can't see either ! Why, that's the blind leading the... criminally negligent ! Stop this thing now, man ! I'll walk the rest of way, on my own ! Go on stop it, STOP IT NOW, YOU OLD FOOL !” and with that John leant over, as he tried to make a grab, for the reins.}

_{"THERE IT BE !” the driver shouted out proudly, “ I TOLD YE IT WAS COMIN', DIDN'T I !”}

   _{John looked up, to see a towering wall of impenetrable mist, looming up before them, there was nothing he could do, it was too late. They plunged deep into it's heart, at full gallop, shouting and swearing.... now nobody could see where they going, or knew how it was going to end.}

_{lifeandfunnies.blogspot.com}

Midwinter Mystery Series - The Town of No Return - Chapter Two

_{The Town of No Return – Chapter Two}

_{"Arrival “}

_{The carriage door slid abruptly open, summoning John from his 'train' of thought and returning him to the endless journey, albeit it further down the line. He noted that though the tunnel lay far behind them, they were still very much in the dark despite the carriage's lamps burning once more, as the day finally relinquished it's remaining light to the falling night sky.}

 _{“ Tickets, tickets please !” came the mournful request, from the train guard now standing sentry in the carriage's doorway, filling it's frame with his own. He was a small, giant of a man, broad of shoulder, wider of girth, his ill-fitting uniform crowned with a peak cap pushed back over his forehead in a slightly rebellious manner. “ How much longer until we get to Mistry ?” John enquired producing his ticket from a waistcoat pocket and presenting it to the guard. He straightened himself up in his seat before entering into a deep stretch easing the stiffness in his lower back, before conducting a pocket-by-pocket search of his overcoat for any surviving cigarettes.} 

_{" Ahh, Mistry ! That be the next stop, we should be comin' up on it, in 'bout 10 minutes, or so, I reckon,” replied the guard, a puzzled look of recognition crossed his brow as he inspected both the ticket and it's owner. ” This be your first time to Mistry, then ?”he quizzed.}

_{"Yes, it is. What gave me away ?” smiled John.}

_{" I've jus' never 'eard of anyone returnin' to Mistry before...come to that, I don't think I've ever seen anyone leave !” was the honest reply. John leant in towards the Guard, to offer the benefit of his deductive reasoning,} “ I shouldn't worry if I were you, perhaps they just slipped back in when your back was turned, or went over the wall on your day off !” a look of relief swept across his face, as his fingers finally touched upon a crumpled pack of cigarettes in one of the darkest recesses of his pocket.

_{"Mebbe, Sur ! You can never tell with some folk can ye'!” the Guard conceded somewhat philosophically.}

_{"Well, I happen to be in possession of a return ticket, and I can assure you that I fully intend on making the most of it !" clarified John.}

_{"I'll have to take your word on that, Sur, won't I ?” the guard offered his unsolicited opinion as he punched John's ticket.} 

_{“ Yes, YOU WILL !” admonished John, and then concluded. “ Look, it seems to have taken a lot longer to get here than I expected. Is everything alright, or do you run on some kind of Cornish time, down here ?”}

_{"P'haps, you ain't taken into consideration, that we have to take things more slowly down 'ere. On account of bein' at the end of the line.. and all !” explained the Guard.}

 _{“ The end of line, what are you talking about, man ?” John felt compelled to verify the validity of this last statement.}

_{"Aye, it's true, these last few stations can only be reach'd by the old disused line, tracks not cover'd by the gover'ment's, ' Modernization' plans !” the Guard almost spat out the last words in a contemptible tone. “ But, once they're gone these 'forgotten' villages will be cut off from the main line forever. Then they'll be jus' little more than ' Ghost towns' !}

_{"Hmm ! I see ! I guess it's the price we have to pay for progress,” John, tried to reason his way out of a bad situation, tapping out the last cigarette in the pack – a slight tear in it's middle, but otherwise still quite serviceable – and proceeded to light up.}

_{"Progress, be damned !” slammed the Guard, thrusting John's ticket back into his hand.}

     _{The train suddenly jerked violently – as if reaching the end of some unseen tether – knocking the bespectacled passenger, bowler hat et al, to the floor. The Guard only managing to avoid the same position by falling into the now vacated seat of it's former occupant. John faring slightly better, as only his cigarette was consigned to the compartment's grey depths. Whilst he maintained his repose by planting both feet, firmly and widely apart, adopting a low center of gratitude, thankful for escaping a similar such indignity!}

_{"Damn, old tracks ! I swear they're getting worse ev'ry week !” exclaimed the Guard, as he and the silent scholar corrected themselves to their original position.}

_{"I'm beginning to suspect that neither of us are exactly on the 'right track', as they say,” empathized John, scouring the floor for any sign of his dying cigarette.}

_{"That's as may be, Sur. But, things run kind of differently down 'ere, that's all I'm sayin' ! You'll find out fer y'self soon enough !” countered the Guard, opening up his pocket watch before pronouncing, “ Anyway, your time's up, Sur !”}

_{"WHAT !” choked John.!}

_{"Your station ! It's comin' up, any minute ! Should be pullin' into it after this next bend !”}

_{"Oh ! Right ! Thank you “ breathed John, with a slight sigh of relief, as he stood up to prepare himself for departure, starting by disentangling his bags from the overhead corded luggage rack.}

    _{After climbing down from the train onto the one track-sided platform John placed his two suitcases either side of him on the ground and  made the necessary adjustments to his attire, adapting for the sudden change in environment. He drew the dark paisley silk scarf tight around his neck, buttoned up his tweed overcoat and pulled on a pair of black leather gloves. Once everything was covered he surveyed the surroundings and realised that he was now all alone on the very barren and neglected looking station. Nobody, apart from himself, had either departed or boarded the train. Not even the Guard had seen fit to grace the platform with his presence, to perform the appropriate regulations and gestures: re – general flag waving and whistle blowing, signalling that all was safe to move on. 
   Picking up the luggage he began to make his way, slowly and carefully - trying not to ruin his soft leather black brogues in the freshly fallen snow – towards the station's main hall. After a few steps he was totally engulfed in a large cloud of steam vapour, vented by the departing locomotive as it's engineer opened up the throttle for more acceleration.}

     _{The only source of illumination came from a large lamp, hanging over the building's doorway, with minor support from the lighted windows of the station office. John could see that the station had fallen into a state of disrepair, the wooden picket fence bordering the platform had loose and missing slats. The few platform lamps, all of which had broken bulbs, were infected with a thick moss climbing up their overly rusted posts. While the white paintwork on the station's fascia boarding and windows was turning dirty grey, showing signs of prolonged flaking and peeling, and what once passed as window boxes now seemed to be nothing more than just a repository for dead leaves and stagnant water. There were also two wooden posts, a few feet apart from each other, which he took to be where the station's identity board should be – but there was none. 
   As he neared the office he passed-by a red confectionery dispensing machine, hanging from the wall, empty of wares with one drawer stuck open. Next to this – and somewhat ironically – was a Speak-your-weight machine, it's glass face deeply cracked whether through age, accident or as a result of a disgruntled customer, John couldn't determine for sure, however as it's needle seemed to be stuck on 
'Seek medical attention' he felt that he could probably hazard a guess to a conclusion.}

_{Reaching the station's door he found it unlocked but had to try several attempts to open it – probably due to severe warping – and swiftly entered, leaving the cold unfriendly platform behind him. To stand instead in the cold unfriendly waiting room – it's small fireplace, full of yesterdays ashes, dead embers and disappointment. The bare room was sparsely furnished, just one wooden bench and small round table, covered with out-of-date, stained newspapers and an over abused ashtray. A solitary naked bulb hung from a long piece of flex cord, slightly swinging in the air, disturbed no doubt by the blast of wind that had accompanied John in upon his entry. 
    He moved over to the ticket office window, it's blind pulled fully down, and gently tapped on the glass for service. He waited for a moment, and then repeated the action, in a continued attempt to 'contact the other side'. There was still no response, so John tried a more direct approach, “ HELLO ! HELLO, IS ANYBODY THERE ?” he called. But, there was only the silence, the empty, hopeless silence, which caused John a certain degree of exasperation followed by a higher level of desperation, He started to pound his fist on the ticket window and shouted, “ COME ON ! OPEN UP ! I KNOW YOU'RE IN THERE, I CAN SEE THE LIGHTS ON !” There came a muffled noise from somewhere behind the screen, the blind flapped imperceptibly, before snapping sharply back up onto it's roller. John, was now left staring into the very heart of inhumanity, or at least the face of it - a British Rail, Station Master, semi-retired.}

_{"Ah, good, you're awake, then !” John greeted this overdue arrival with a growing sense of weariness.}

_{"Wot's all the commoshun' about, didn't you read the sign ? We're closed !” queried the railway man. He swayed slightly as he approached John and appeared to be of  'advancing beers', judging by the unkempt appearance and slurred speech, he must have been approaching somewhere over... LAST ORDERS, by John's reckoning.}

_{"Sign ? There's no sign out here ! Look, I've just arrived, and I'm in need of some assistance,” John tried to appeal to the wild looking gentleman's better nature, which was made all the more harder as eye-contact couldn't be confirmed, due to the dense consistency of his beer bottle glasses.}

_{"Eh ! Wot's that you say ?” countered the Station Master.}

_{"IS THIS MISTRY, OR NOT ?” John implored a simply answer.}

_{"WOT ! Of course not ! This is just a TRAIN STATION ! Everything else is a few miles down the road ! ” the Station Master waved his hand in a general direction towards the exit.}

_{"Okay, now we're getting somewhere ! How can I get there ?” pressed John.} 

_{“Well there's a bus, that runs thru' there.”}

_{"Good, when's the next one due ?”}

_{" 'Bout, 11 o'clock.”}

_{"11:00 PM ! But that's almost 5 hours from now, man !”}

_{"And the rest ! The next bus ain't due til 11:00 AM, on Monday mornin' !”}

_{" What ! That's ridiculous ! You mean to say, that there is no other service, til then ? ”}

_{"That's wot I said, are you a bit simple or summin' ?”}

_{"NO ! I just want to get to where I want to go !”}

_{"Eh !”} 

_{" Look, there must be some other form of transport around here. Haven't you ever heard of Taxis, in these parts ?”}

_{"Taxes ! What are you... one of those darned Revenue chasers ?”}

_{"No ! Taxis ! T-A-X-I-S ! A private vehicle that can be hired out for a journey, with it's own driver !”}

_{"Ohh ! One of those ! Then you be wantin'... George.”}

_{"I do ? So, this 'George' has a car of his own then ?" John clarified.}

_{"Yus ! He's the only one in the village, who does.”}

_{"Good, how do I contact him ?”}

_{"You can't, not 'til Monday mornin', anyhow,” answered the station master, swaying even more than usual.}

_{John's body started to tense up, with the sudden realization that he was getting nowhere, fast. “ Is there a particular reason, why can't I get hold of him tonight ?”}

_{"Yus, cos it's Saturday night !”}

_{"And, what exactly does that have to do with it ?”}

_{"'Cos, George, always goes to the pictures on a Saturday !”}

_{"I see, so you're telling me, that everything here, just stops at the weekend !”}

_{The Station Master started to wane – both physically and mentally – under such sustained questioning, and alcoholic consumption, and in a bid to draw a veil over the conversation. 
"Look, Mister, I deals with trains, and trains only, see. If you don't want to knows about trains, then I can't help yer !”}

_{"Alright, alright ! How far is it to walk there, then ?” surrendered John.}

_{"That depends, don't it ?”}

_{"Go on, I'm listening !” warned John.}

_{"Well, normal walkin' at this time of night, I'd say... not far. But, if yer intendin' to travel with those bags over there...” the old master espied John's large suitcases, “ the size o' two small boars, then it be... a BLOODY LONG WAY !”}

_{"Fine ! I'll leave the larger one here, and send for it later. That's, if you don't have any objections, of course,” John sarcastically requested.}

_{"Nah, I don't mind. Bring it over to the door, an' I'll keep it inside me office, for safe keeping,” the befuddled Master disappeared from the screen as he made his way to unlock the office door. John, stood back for a moment, partly out of surprise, but mainly due to the condition of the second party, currently parading in too close a proximity to him. Now that John could see the ' whole picture' of his would-be adversary, he became aware that he was actually in a worse state of disrepair than that of the the station ! Also, that there was a lot more of less of him - or vice versa - than John had anticipated, as he revealed another side of himself, or at least the bottom half. He was sporting just an exceptionally baggy, and very holey, pair of long johns under his station master coat.}

_{"Not expecting any guests then ?” John quipped.}

_{Ignoring the sarcastic overtones of John's last response the old boy continued,}

_{"Give us your name then, so's I can put a ticket on it fer yer. Mind you, if you haven't claimed it in a week, I'll be sendin' it up the line, to the main 'Lost Property' office !”}

_{"NO YOU WON'T! I'll be back for it soon enough, just keep an eye on it, till then !” commanded John, although due to the Masters myopic condition he had a deep worrying fear, that he was going to live to regret this decision. “ Which way do I go ?” he queried.}

_{"Turn left out of 'ere, cross o'er the walk through bridge, bare RIGHT at the crossroads and then jus' keep going straight on.”}

_{"Until ?” pushed John, for a definitive conclusion.}

_{"Until, you find wot ever yer lookin' fer, I guess !” the Master, answered somewhat sagely.}

_{After that, there didn't seem much else to be said, so John bade the Station Master farewell and strode out into the freezing unknown.}

   <sub>The ageing railway man, closed and bolted the station door behind John. Heading back to his office, he stopped in mid-thought, ” Or was it, LEFT, at the crossroads ?” he muttered, shrugging his shoulders to dismiss his quandary he crossed the rest of the room, extinguished the main hall light and retired to his quarters, to rest in peace.

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Midwinter Mystery Series - The Town of No Return - Chapter One - A 1960's based Supernatural Mystery series

_{Midwinter Mystery – The Town of No Return
Chapter One: The Beginning}

    _{A high piercing cry shattered the peaceful natural order of the countryside, as the heavy locomotive sounded it's whistle, heralding the passing through yet another deep narrow railway cutting, before vanishing into a series of short tunnels. The engines exhaust fumes, a mixture of steam and smoke, trailed behind the preceding rail carriages creating an illusion of being transported on some kind of unearthly cloud. Inside one such carriage were two estranged passengers sharing a small private compartment, both of whom were too self absorbed to take notice of each other or the outside world.}

      _{Time can be a rather relative matter, contemplated Detective Inspector. John Foxe, as he sat watching the wintry landscape roll past, through a nearby window. In your youth a summer can feel like an eternity, but when you're older a season seems to be over with the simple turn of a calendar page.
It's said that time “flies” when you're enjoying yourself, but if you're engaged in some tedious task or waiting on public transport - then Tempus Fugit, it most certainly doesn't ! It was the latter of these activities that John currently found himself caught up in - perhaps 'trapped' was a more appropriate word - on this interminable journey to a little outpost of a village on the Cornish coast, a town strangely called... Mistry. He drew back his sleeve, glanced down at his watch, and shook his wrist gently, before holding it up-to his ear for a second hand opinion. But it was only his patience that was slowly running out, all he could do now was resign himself to a higher power – The British Railway Timetable.}

     _{The steam radiator situated under the seats was performing well in the lower regions - from the knees downwards there was a definite degree of warmth - but from the waist up the climate dropped noticeable. It was beginning to turn dark outside and the walled gas mantle lamps were already burning brightly, imbuing the compartment with a warm flickering ambiance. The windows were steamed up on the inside but lightly iced up on the outside - John had to wipe his hand across them in order to peer out. As he did so, he caught sight of his own dark image looking back at him in the window. He could clearly discern his thin features, the short slightly receding, well brylcreemed hair with a high straight parting swept cleanly back. The reflection made his hair seem almost black, rather than it's natural dark brown, nor did it highlight the slight greying around the temples. He could however, trace the line of his broken nose, although the mirror'd image failed to register his keen intelligent hazel eyes and their surrounding gentle expressive lines, which were testament to a wry sense of humour. John's attention was momentarily deflected by the erudite looking gentleman sitting opposite him, as he recrossed his legs, for the umpteenth time. He was an emaciated looking man of advancing years with a heavily starched composure, which he maintained with a rigidly uptight position, extremities held in close proximity to his body, along with an overall sombre tone. He wore a dark charcoal suit with a white shirt and thin black tie, his bowler hat rested next to him, on the padded bench seat, it's curved brim facing down. He was seemingly engaged in a particularly weighty tome - The Complete Works of Charles Dickens, Readers Digest, omnibus edition, unabridged - but John had caught the odd furtive glance coming his way from over the top of the silver rimmed round spectacles, that framed the glazed but tired eyes of his scholarly companion.}

_{In all the time that had passed during their drawn out excursion, no meaningful dialogue has been exchanged – perhaps in-part, due to a lack of common interest, or just a general lack of interest in common. In fact, the only real discourse that had transpired between them was when John had first entered the compartment and discovered that his 'silent partner' was already in situ, and sought to ascertain whether or not the seat, on the opposite side was available. After that they observed an unofficial communication blackout.} 

_{The train fell into another tunnel, this one longer than the others, and a sudden blast of wind shot through the carriage extinguishing the small lamps - plunging the compartment into utter darkness, absent of all signs of light and life. John felt himself consumed in the depths of the black void, detached from reality, existing only in his own thoughts and memories. In this state of revelation he was compelled – as so often – to relive the circumstances that led to this day, this journey, this 'little escape', on this date, which he would never forget: January 7th, 1961}

_{Where does anyone's story truly begin, is it with the start of a new challenge, moving home, a change in career, or perhaps with a death – after all even an end can be a sort of a start – or is it simply a moment, a point in time, that intersects between 'all our yesterdays' and 'what might have been tomorrow '. To Detective Inspector. John Foxe, it was a combination of all these things, which seemed to coalesce themselves during a somewhat unusual and unexpected meeting, on that fateful afternoon.}

_{The bright sunlight streamed into the Chief Inspector's office, although it was late-December, the sky was deep blue and clear, offering no hiding place or resistance from the sun. The Venetian blinds were at half mast – to reduce the glaring brilliance – and cast a broken shadow over the heavy oak desk and the nearside wall. Around the room hung the usual suspects, a collection of photographs – black and white – showing various policemen through the stations history celebrating some landmark arrest or being decorated for an act of bravery in the course of their duty. Other culprits were the ubiquitous humorous print of drunken constables standing in a row, a kind of unlawful line-up, and then there was the old felon, a large oil painting reflecting rural life by some unknown artist from an undated period, depicting a small elderly lady, an over-laden cart, a running river and a faraway windmill, in the style of the 'Haywain', as if it's mere presence gave the surroundings an air of gravitas.}   

_{The Chief Inspector – Peter Neuman – looked immaculate in his uniform, the crisp white shirt and polished silver buttons offset the highly pressed black tunic. He was a slim, alert man for someone in their advancing years, and his regulation short dark receding hair laid flat and swept back. His long face, with a narrow, pinched nose, was supported by a strong jawline. He sat at his desk, on which stood two small framed photographs of his wife and children, also taking up precious space were two shallow, wire trays, one was resigned as “In” the other consigned as “ Out” - the former of which was stacked high with an ever-expanding 'pile' of bureaucracy, displaying clear evidence of criminal neglect.}

_{The office was situated on the top floor of the police station, which allowed John - sitting facing the Chief Inspector's desk - the occasional opportunity to gaze out over the city's rooftops. He could feel the warmth of the sun on his face, filtered and intensified by the large windows, and noted the minuscule particles of dust caught in the sharp brilliance of the winter daylight, floating - almost imperceptibly - around him. All of which was a welcome distraction as he sat there waiting for the Chief to finish his telephone conversation to some hapless caller. “ Well, sergeant, you tell that constable, I don't care how cold it is out on the streets. If I catch him on patrol with his hands in his pockets, one more time... I'll have him transferred to the Mounted Branch for a month...and it WON'T involve riding them !” finished the Chief.}

_{John heard a garbled electronic reply from the harassed officer, although he couldn't make out the words just a general put upon theme.}

_{"Yes, I'm well aware of his 'imposing' mother's disposition, thank you ! And, while I admit the force would probably be better off if the mother was serving in it rather than than her son ! We simply cannot be seen giving in to public pressure, no matter where or who it comes from, is that clear ?” responded the growingly frustrated Chief, and with that he slammed the receiver back into it's cradle.}

_{"Ah, parental guidance meets the cold hands of the law,” John mused then continued, “ So, you're familiar with the mother, is she really that bad ?”}

_{"Unfortunately, I do know her, 'relatively' speaking, and yes, she is really is ' that bad'. She's also...” the Chief paused for a moment, before revealing, ” .. my sister ! ”}

_{"Ahh ! So that would make the young constable, your...” John started..}

_{"Problem !” interjected the Chief.}

_{" I was going to go with Nephew, but I see your point,” sympathized John.}

_{The Chief, leaned forward in a conspiratorial gesture, clasping his hands in front of him on the desk top,” When she was younger, we all thought she was just highly competitive, but with the hindsight of age I can see now that she's simply...a right pain in the backside ! Still, I suppose not even the best of us can evade our personal lives at work, can we ?” with this final remark, the Chief fixed his gaze a little more closely on John, as if to indicate some underlying meaning to his final words.}

_{"Anyway, enough about me, how are you keeping John ? I'ts been a while since we caught up with each over... probably a bit too long," the Chief paused for a moment his fingers gently tapping over some files on his desk. " The last time must have been just after Cathy's funeral, wasn't it ?"}   

_{"Yes, I suppose it was, a little under three months, give or take a couple of days,” recounted John as he averted his eyes, and then seemed to look up into space, purposely avoiding eye-contact – as he invariably did - when handling questions about his wife's death. He still didn't really feel comfortable or want to talk about it, to anyone.}

_{"You, never did take our advice for some personal leave, did you ? In fact, according to our records, you haven't had any break for quite sometime now, is that right ?” the Chief continued his investigation.}

_{"Well, no, I never took any time off, there didn't seem much point, I mean, it wasn't as if I could do or change anything. All I have at home for me now, is a slightly bigger house and a much smaller life,” John suddenly became aware that he had disclosed more than he had intended, and decided it best to simply address the issue at hand. 
“ We were planning to go down to the coast for a few days, in the Spring, and stay with Cathy's sister. Perhaps, I might still do that, I think she'd like that... the sister that is,” clarified John. “ But, for now, I'd rather just keep going. If that's all the same with you,” he finished.}

_{" SPRING ! That's months away, and an awful long time to 'just keep going', John,” the Chief empathized, “ Look, I appreciate, that we all have to deal with the loss of a loved one in our own time, in our own way, some with others, some alone. But, you shouldn't under-estimate how powerful and deceptive grief can be, John. Why, you could be affected by it right now, and not even know it. How does that saying go... “ No man is an island”, perhaps it's time you talked to someone professional about it ?” the Chief studied John's face, for any sign of acceptance, but there was no evidence of movement, facial or otherwise. So, decided the more prudent course was to continue,} "Well, I suppose that brings us to the other reason why you're here today !” He shifted in his chair before drawing it nearer to the desk, then after pulling his tunic down, straight – in an orderly fashion - he shifted a few papers around and then picked up a file that he'd been resting on. “ A matter has come to my attention involving your recent case notes, which I'm rather concerned with. Some of the entries display, shall we say, a somewhat questionable conduct, combined with a fast and loose style of investigation and frankly, rather shoe-horned results, which are, how can I put this, just plain indefensible !” the Chief rubbed his forehead, too ease his troubled brow before delivering more critique. 
“ Furthermore, I've been hearing accounts from some of your fellow colleagues, voicing their concerns of your uncharacteristic and 'erratic' behaviour over the last few months.”

_{John, sat there in stunned silence, whether in shock or denial, it was too close to call, neither of them knew what John was really going through. But, given the lack of response, he had only one recourse open, to continue on, “ I'm sorry, John, but given such incidences, I have to be seen to take these allocations seriously and apply the appropriate action,” he paused so as to let the implications sink in, and then continued.
“ If I send this report 'upstairs' – as it stands now – then I will have no choice, but to follow protocol. Now, that would involve temporary suspension – with pay – following a recommendation for grief counselling and psychiatric evaluation, on the grounds of a suspected, emotional breakdown. Re-instatement, would be pending an 'all clear' from the medical board.” The Chief wagged the file up and down, as if weighing the consequences before pronouncing his verdict, “ That's of course, IF, I send these papers upstairs, in THIS condition.” Suddenly a lifeline was in the air, John shifted in his chair, curiosity and desperation preparing him to grab it with both hands.}

  _{The Chief stood up, walked round his desk and perched himself on the other side just in front of his worried visitor, placing his hands flat on either side of him, in a more casual, more approachable manner. "Look John," the Chief exhaled, " I admit that as your immediate superior and as an old family friend I am just as responsible for this situation as you. I should never have let you talk me into continuing working while you were going through such a obviously emotional time, " he confessed. "So, perhaps there is another more mutually, beneficial solution, one where we can both keep face. It's possible your file could be 'misplaced' – for the time being – especially if you were to be suddenly, and temporarily ' seconded out' to another station. Now, if you're amenable to this, then I have a little proposition I'd like to run by you,” the Chief paused as if to let his opening gambit to take root. Then, turning over his right shoulder, whilst remaining seated, he picked up a rather thin old file from behind him. “ You, see, John, I need a reliable, experienced man, that I can trust, to investigate a slightly 'lost' station, development.”}

_{"Lost ! What, as in metaphorically or geographically ? “ quizzed John.}

_{"More, accidentally,” clarified the Chief, “ from what little I can make out, the station just kind of, fell off our 'radar', during the last round of Home Office, regional, re-shuffles. Ever since then, we haven't heard hide nor hair of them, not a single reported incidence or recorded offence, no response - verbal or otherwise - 
at all !”
" How has it come to light, now then ?"
" The good old payroll office, brought it to my attention, when they flagged up that they were still paying the sergeant's wages, despite the fact that he retired - or died, we're not too sure which - over 15 years ago !"}    

_{" Ahh ! You can always rely on payroll to get their man... eventually ! So, how long exactly, has this 'lost station' been incommunicado for, are talking days or weeks ?” John's interest began to stir.}

_{"Three years, two months and a couple of days, a Tuesday I believe “ the Chief itemized his answer.}

_{"THREE YEARS ! Well, obviously, something is seriously wrong, you should be sending someone down there, right away !” was John's stunned reply.}

_{"Look, let's not get hung up with conjecture, at this point. What's needed now, are calm heads and hard facts, in order to make an informed assessment of the situation, and then we can... panic ! I mean, for goodness sake man, do you have any idea what the newspapers could do, with a story like this !” the Chief returned to his side of the desk and slumped back into it, with exasperation.}

_{"I can think of one headline, ' One of our stations is missing ! If seen, please contact police headquarters, with information regarding it's whereabouts !” John fantasized.}

_{"That's not helping, John. This is a delicate matter, which could be very embarrassing for the whole Force ! So, for now let's just keep this ' in-house', until we know exactly, what we're dealing with. I'm relying on you, John, to go down there, find out what happened, and then report back to me, personally, is that clear ? “ summarized the Commissioner.}

_{"Crystal clear ! I keep you and the powers that be, out of the papers, and you'll bury my mine,” John replied cynically.}

_{"Hmmm, that's a somewhat harsh, and simplistic synopsis. But, at least we understand each other, so I take it that you accept my terms,” the Chief Inspector smiled confidently.}

_{"When, do you want me to start ?” John simply followed.}

_{"Well, finish up whatever case you're currently working on – under supervision by me, of course - and get any personal affairs that you may have, in order. Then head off down there, say, the beginning of the New Year. They've waited this long, a little bit more won't make much difference, " the Chief smiled. " I wouldn't be at all surprised if it wasn't just some silly administrative error. Looking at this file there doesn't seem to have been any arrests down there for years. You may have to put them out of their misery and just close the station down, I'll leave it to you to decide, anyway. The Sergeant in charge is called Keel, can't make out his first name from this," the Chief held out a badly stained and tattered sheet of paper from the stiff card file. " And, that's about all we really know about it, not much I know, but I'm sure it won't take you too long to get to the bottom of it all. Besides just think of all that fresh air and the peace and quiet of village life, I'm almost envious of you," he smiled friendly at John,   satisfied that he had killed two birds with one stone.}

_{After, the two men had finalized the rest of the details, John made his departure, at the door he turned} back, "Yes, John, is there anything else, ?” enquired the Chief Inspector. “ Eh, no, I just thought you said something, that's all !” explained John, hurriedly. However, this wasn't the truth, but, given the recent conversation, he thought it best not to confess that he was actually watching Cathy as she stood next the Chief, peering over his shoulder at the report.  Then she raised her head, a concerned expression written across her face, and gently shook it, whether it was some sign of  disapproval or as a warning was hard to say. But, these unpredictable, unwarranted intrusions into his life from his dead wife were certainly starting to become ….a problem.

_{to be continued...
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