James Field's Blog, page 13

Part 35: Penelope hands over her house keys…

Penelope hands over the keys to her house.-

As soon as she had read the newspaper, Penelope visited Mr Styles at his place of work. Penelope’s face drooped with the sorrow of the disgrace. Mr Styles received her.

Penelope staggered into the room, groaning: “I have learned in the newspaper of the terrible news about my sister. I have come—”

“We hope it’s just a case of temporary amnesia,” said Mr Styles. “We’re sure she’ll turn up all right.” He didn’t invite her to sit.

“I wish I could believe it. But as I have told you, Olive is an evil woman. She drinks and play-acts and makes a God of stylish clothes—”

“Good Lord, that’s no reason for jumping to the conclusion she’s an embezzler!”

“I pray you may be correct. But meanwhile, I yearn to offer you any help I can. I shall make it my sole duty to bring my sister to justice if it proves she is guilty.”

“Good of you,” mumbled Styles. He gave a noisy sniff, swallowed hard, thrust his chair a foot farther away from his desk, and said disagreeably: “Actually, we were thinking of searching your house. You hire the one next door to Olive, in number three Flintstone Terrace.”
​
“Yes. And of course I shall be glad to have you search every inch. Or anything else I can do. I feel I share fully with my twin sister in this unspeakable sin. I’ll hand over the keys to my house to you at once.” She produced a key ring, with a mixture of rusty, old-fashioned door keys and shiny new keys, and held it out.
 
To be continued… 
The real world:
 
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Like to know more about Alf, Bert and the rest of the gang? You can read their chaotic history in What on Earth .
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Part 34: Olive is temporarily out of her mind…

Olive isn't crazy, she's temporarily out of her mind.-

When asked his opinion of the theory the alleged fugitive had gone north, Chief Inspector Dobbs was in no doubt. He declared that, of course, Olive had started in that direction, with the vain hope of throwing pursuers off the scent. Instead, she had immediately turned south and picked up her Morris Mini at a garage in Sidcup. Though he would not confirm it, Chief Inspector Dobbs hinted he is ready to put his hands on a night cleaner who had hidden Olive’s car at the repair shop.

When asked if he thought Olive was crazy, Chief Inspector Dobbs laughed and said: “Yes, she’s crazy to think she’ll get away with it. Two hundred thousand pounds is a substantial amount of money.”

A distressed Mr Styles resolutely declares his belief that Olive is blameless. “She is a favourite personality in The Stables and bears the best of reputations in the office. However, she is temporarily out of her mind. Severe pains in the head have tormented her for some time past, and I am confident she will come to her senses and return the money pretty damned quick.”

Meantime, the insurance company, which fully covers The Stables employees, has its investigators working with the police on the case.
 
To be continued… 

The real world:
 
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Like to know more about Alf, Bert and the rest of the gang? You can read their chaotic history in What on Earth .
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Part 33: Escape on Dover to France ferry…

Has Olive escaped on the Dover to France ferry?-

The newspaper stated that Olive had been missing for six days. Mr Styles, the owner of The Stables, after first denying there was anything wrong with his accounts, admitted he was short of two hundred thousand pounds. The report moved on to state that Olive bought a train ticket for Edgware on Thursday, where she was to pick up her car and drive to Harrogate for a spa. A railway worker, and an employee at The Stables, noticed her on the northbound train, but she’d plainly never arrived at Harrogate.

Semi-retired Chief Inspector Dobbs, a resident in The Stables, is heading the investigation. He says he has proof that Olive didn’t head north, towards Edgware, but south, beyond Sidcup—probably to Dover to escape on the ferry to France. That witnesses had seen her car in Edgware the day before was a blind.

Olive’s distraught fiancé, Bert, is working close with the police. He informed them she’d mentioned going to Sidcup. As a result, Chief Inspector Dobbs has secured evidence that Olive had left her car at a garage in that town. With his usual thoroughness and promptness, Chief Inspector Dobbs is making a search at Sidcup. He has already communicated with the police in cities to the south of England and the borders into France and is confident of capturing Olive soon. He bragged that when he was on a case, it went ill with those who even hinted of wrongdoing.
 
To be continued… 
The real world:
 
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Like to know more about Alf, Bert and the rest of the gang? You can read their chaotic history in What on Earth .
-Image by Thierry Milherou from Pixabay

Part 32: newspapers and magazines…

Penelope has The Times delivered to her house every morning.-

Part ThreeThe Stables’ occupants were familiar with Penelope’s occasional appearances, the eccentric recluse, and they snickered about her behind her back. On the Saturday following the robbery, Bert tagged along beside her as she trudged down to the convenience store on the village green.

“Any news of Olive?” asked Penelope.

“No, she’s not answering her phone, and she doesn’t ring.”

“Is that normal?”

A sullen look spread across Bert’s face, as grey and dull as the morning weather. “Yeah, says she’s having a spa, but really, she’s having a fling. It’s always the same. If I catch the bloke, I’ll tie a knot in his bollocks.”

“Oh, you disgusting man.” Penelope jerked away from him and quickened her pace, leaving him behind. She heard him chuckling and had to press a fist against her mouth to stop herself from laughing.

Safely inside the store, she bought a newspaper and said to the clerk: “You can have The Times delivered at my house every morning-number three, Flintstone Terrace.”

“Yes, I know where it is,” said the clerk pertly. “I thought you didn’t like newspapers and magazines.”

“Ah, did you indeed? The Times, every morning, please. I will pay a month in advance.” Penelope said no more, but she glared so fiercely at the clerk, he cringed.

Next evening, Penelope attended the Sunday meeting of the All Saints Brethren, but kept to her house for the next two and a half days.

There was no news of Olive’s disappearance till the following Wednesday, when the full affair came out in a violent, front-page story, headed:

                                    EMBEZZLEMENT
         Social Favourite Robs Employer and Makes Get-away.

To be continued…
 
The real world:
 
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Like to know more about Alf, Bert and the rest of the gang? You can read their chaotic history in What on Earth .
-Image by OpenClipart-Vectors from Pixabay

Part 31: Penelope hankers for hot-blooded South Americans…

Penelope hankers for hot-blooded South Americans…-

She climbed into bed and snuggled into the blankets. A thought came to mind. Before Penelope bedded down, she would kneel on the floor and pray, no matter how cold and hard the floor was. Since she was now Penelope, she ought to live the part to the letter. So she threw back the sheets, dropped to her knees, and joined her hands in prayer.

Dear Lord of the Universe, she prayed, eyes tightly closed. I beg for forgiveness. Not for Olive, but for those who lack the true faith of the All Saints brethren. Amen.

She returned to bed and waited for sleep. But the wealth she now held made her heartbeat race, thumping in her chest. For a moment she considered jumping out of bed again and running a victory lap around her bedroom.

One day soon, when all the investigations around Olive died down, when the police dropped the case as unsolvable and life returned to normal, Penelope would also leave. Where would she go, the French Riviera? No, too close. How about South America? Yes, just imagine all those hot-blooded Latin Americans hankering for steamy romance.

Sleep eventually overtook to her, and she slept till the middle of the next day, lying with her arms behind her head, a smile on her face.

With the new day, Olive was gone, a villain on the run. On this day, Penelope came into being. Not merely as a presence glimpsed on Sunday and Wednesday evenings, but as an upright member of society living twenty-four hours a day, seven days a week.
 
To be continued… 

​The real world:
 
Rather than miss an instalment, it’s easy to follow my blog on bloglovin ’. They’ll give you a friendly nudge as I release new parts.
 
Like to know more about Alf, Bert and the rest of the gang? You can read their chaotic history in What on Earth .
-Image by Hans Braxmeier from Pixabay

Penelope fills sacks with stolen money…

Into these sacks, Penelope filled the stolen money.-

She returned to the suitcases. Squatting beside them, she gathered from one the wig and black garments of Penelope. She stripped, eased Penelope’s clothes on, and packed Olive’s garbs and the frilly handbag in the suitcase.

Beforehand, she had stitched together some small sacks with long carrying straps, made from bedsheets. Into these sacks and a spacious black handbag of Penelope’s, she filled the stolen money.

Into each suitcase she piled as many rocks as they would hold and tossed the bags out into the pond, where they vanished as willingly as the car. Next, she tied the two number plates together with a longish piece of string and draped them around her collar. Careful to arrange the sacks of money evenly around her body, she suspended them likewise from neck and shoulders. Last, she shrugged a long, black raincoat on, and fastened the buttons up to her chin.

With a pair of sensible walking shoes and the handbag dangling from one shoulder, she advanced toward The Stables. Wanting to stay concealed, she kept to various groves of maples and willows till she was within half a mile of the village.

As she strode briskly along The Stable’s entrance road, Bert and his two Alsatians plunged from a meadow of grazing horses right in front of her.

“Hello, Penny,” said Bert. “Out for an evening stroll?”

“Yes, I thought a breath of fresh air would clear my head. My book is at a delicate stage.”

“You shouldn’t be out here walking by yourself. No telling what sort of notecases are about.”

“God will protect me. I have no fear.”

“Yeah, must be Him what sent me here. Better let me walk you home.”

“Is Olive in? I’m contemplating calling on her.”

“Nah, she’s gone to Harrogate, and won’t be back for days.”

“I pray for her every day, but foresee her obsession with money will lead to her downfall.”

It wasn’t much further to Flintstone Terrace, and Penelope spoke non-stop of the all-powerful God, the creator, sustainer, and supreme judge of the world. At the path to her front door, Penelope bid Bert goodnight.

Once safely inside her house at number three Flintstone Terrace, she unlocked a section of the bookcase and packed the stolen money into those empty encyclopaedias. As she stored them, she counted the bills. They came to one hundred and eighty-seven thousand, five hundred and thirty-five pounds.

With a pair of strong garden shears, she cut the number plates into small pieces, the size of coins, and dropped them into a piggy bank.
​
In her bedroom, she undressed calmly. Once she laughed: “I detest those pompous fools—bosses and cops. I’m beyond their idiot law. No one can catch me—it would take me myself to manage that!”
 
To be continued…
​
The real world:
 
Rather than miss an instalment, it’s easy to follow my blog on bloglovin ’. They’ll give you a friendly nudge as I release new parts.
 
Like to know more about Alf, Bert and the rest of the gang? You can read their chaotic history in What on Earth .
-Image by Hassas Arts from Pixabay

Part 29: The pond is secret and sinister and still…

A secret and sinister pond.-

Between the car and the edge of the pond was a distance of about forty metres, the rutted tractor track level and covered with straggly weeds. Olive returned to the car and fitted a portion of sawn-off broom handle between her seat and the accelerator pedal. When she started the engine, it screamed at full speed.

The next part was tricky. With the driver’s door open, she hung outside the car with one arm slung over the door for support. She had one foot in the car, the other on the open-door frame, and her free hand grasping the steering wheel. Careful not to disturb the broomstick handle, she pressed down the clutch pedal and placed the car in third gear.
When she gently lifted the clutch pedal, the car sped up along the track, its wheels bouncing along the path’s two deep ruts.

The car rushed forward, its engine roaring, bolting toward the pond’s rim. At the last moment, Olive safely leapt down.

The car shot over the edge of the pond and soared seven metres out into the air as though it were a thick-bodied aeroplane. With a sickening whoosh, it hit the pond’s surface. The water splashed up in a noisy circle. The stench of rotting eggs infested the air, making Olive gag. Then silence. In the twilight, the lake shone like ink. There was no sign of the car. The concentric rings died away, leaving the pond secret and sinister and still. “Lord!” ejaculated Olive, standing close to the pond, pinching her nose. “They won't find that for a while.”
 
To be continued… 
The real world:
 
Rather than miss an instalment, it’s easy to follow my blog on bloglovin ’. They’ll give you a friendly nudge as I release new parts.
 
Like to know more about Alf, Bert and the rest of the gang? You can read their chaotic history in What on Earth .
-
Image by Schwoaze from Pixabay

Part 28: Olive's last chance to flirt…

Olive's last chance to flirt.-

Olive relaxed beside her picnic lunch from seven minutes past one in the afternoon till dark. She chewed lazily, savouring the chicken and washing it down with the coke. When finished, she opened a tin of biscuits, her favourite chocolate cookies.

The sound of a tractor made her pause in her feast, and she pulled a knitted bonnet down over her ears and put on a pair of heavy sunglasses. When the tractor reached her, it stopped, its engine died, and a suntanned young man stuck his head out of the window. His handsome face and sunny smile sent a thrilling shudder through Olive. “Picnic, eh?” he said.

“Yeah, taking a day off,” said Olive, short and dull.

“I’m taking a shortcut. First time I’ve seen anyone else in here. Enjoy your picnic.” The man started his engine and went on without looking back.

At dusk, Olive wrapped the remains of her picnic in the blanket and tossed it into the back of her car. The meeting with the attractive farm worker left a sour taste in her mouth. That was Olive’s last chance to flirt, she pondered. I don’t suppose you’ll ever seduce a man, Penelope—damn you!

She hid the two suitcases in the bushes and crept down to the main farm track. No one was in sight. She returned and prepared for the next step in her plan. One of her past boyfriends, a nasty crook called Pest, had shown her how to make a car untraceable. She fetched a hammer and a chisel from her tool kit, and with a few savage cracks, she defaced the numbers stamped on the engine block and chassis so nobody could read them.

Then she removed the licence plates from front and back and placed them beside the suitcases. When there was just enough light to recognise the bushes as hazy masses, she started the car. Gingerly, she drove through the woods and up the incline to the edge of the pond. There she halted, leaving the engine running.
 
To be continued… 
​
The real world:
 
Rather than miss an instalment, it’s easy to follow my blog on bloglovin ’. They’ll give you a friendly nudge as I release new parts.
 
Like to know more about Alf, Bert and the rest of the gang? You can read their chaotic history in What on Earth .
-Image by Marcelo Russo de Oliveira - Coffee Tips Welcome from Pixabay

Part 27: Olive packed a picnic lunch…

Olive prepared a picnic hamper.-

Olive curled her tongue around her lips in startled vexation. She dropped her suitcases on the garage floor and stood thinking, her bent forefinger against her lower lip.
Then: “Well, I’ll just have to take it anyway—sorry—can’t wait—I’m a saleslady and have an important meeting at Dover.”

“Sorry I couldn’t be of more help, Miss. Hanson,” said the supervisor civilly, glancing at the storage tag on Olive’s car.

“Not to worry. If the car is too bad, I’ll take a train.”

She paid for overnight storage without complaining, though since the mechanic hadn’t repaired her car, she thought the charge was unjust. She thrust the suitcases into the car and chugged out, the motor spitting. At the first lay-by, she opened the car’s bonnet and fitted the loose spark plug cap properly into place. When she moved on, the motor ran smoothly again.

She drove out of Sidcup, back toward Chipwick and The Stables. There, she ran the car into that thick grove of oaks and maples she’d investigated earlier and parked the car in a grassy space beside the woodland track.
​
The day before, she’d prepared a picnic hamper and left it on the back seat of her car. While waiting for the cover of darkness, she laid a light robe over the suitcases. From the hamper, she took a roast chicken, a box of biscuits, a bottle of coke, and a packet of potato chips. These she spread on the grass-a picnic lunch.
 
To be continued… 
The real world:
 
Rather than miss an instalment, it’s easy to follow my blog on bloglovin ’. They’ll give you a friendly nudge as I release new parts.
 
Like to know more about Alf, Bert and the rest of the gang? You can read their chaotic history in What on Earth .
-Image by Chris Gehrmann from Pixabay

Part 26: Olive buys a train ticket or two…

Olive buys train tickets for Edgware and Sidcup-

Olive picked up her umbrella and the two suitcases. She nodded goodbye to the secretary at her desk and hurried so fast that Mr Styles couldn’t help her carry the suitcases. She rushed through the door, into the waiting taxicab, and said loud enough for Mr Styles to hear, “Chipwick railway station.”

At the station, she ignored offers from porters to carry her bags. She’d left a secret message for the handsome Mr Cocky to meet her under the station clock, and now he came to her side. “Don’t speak,” said Olive, looking straight ahead and speaking softly. She headed for the ticket machine, Mr Cocky tagging along like a randy dog. “Nobody must see us together. I’m going to Harrogate for a week’s spa. If you want to join me, take the next train and I’ll meet you at the station. I’m picking my car up at Edgware and driving the rest of the way.”

She bought a ticket for Edgware and just had time to board the eleven-thirty train. As the train pulled out, she sat in a window seat and blew a kiss to Mr Cocky.

When the train reached the next station, Olive got off and bought a ticket for Sidcup, the town in the opposite direction. There she sat, hidden in a back carriage, suitcases at her feet. At the station, she strolled out to the vestibule, carrying the suitcases. Her face was blank, uninterested. For a second, the light of adventure crossed her features and vanished.

At the garage where she'd left her car the previous evening, she asked the supervisor: “Have you repaired my car—Morris Mini, engine not running properly? Name’s Miss Hanson, Sugar Pop to my friends.”

“Nope!” said the supervisor, rubbing his black and greasy fingers on an equally black and greasy cloth. “Couple of jobs before it. Haven’t had time to touch it yet. Ought to get at it early this afternoon.”
 
To be continued… 
​
The real world:
 
Rather than miss an instalment, it’s easy to follow my blog on bloglovin ’. They’ll give you a friendly nudge as I release new parts.
 
Like to know more about Alf, Bert and the rest of the gang? You can read their chaotic history in What on Earth .
-Image by Nan Berrett from Pixabay