One Not Subtle, One Not on the List.

Here is part 45 of “A Couple of Tenors Short”. I’m not sure why it has taken me so long to get round to posting this. I have been working on it, just not actually posting the results. I think it must be that I re-read one of the earlier bits and gave it a thorough overhaul – it rather broke my routine.

There is another quiz question associated with the part number. I’d never heard of the artists or the song, but trust me, it is worth listening to the answer.

OK, the quiz question out of the way, here is my mantra. This is a serial. Any new-joiners should start with the opener known as Part One.    

The troublesome recap has now settled into its new home. You can find the recap here!

Now read on...

Early progress soon became a crawl as Jones encountered other commuters who were taking the long way round. To try and make better progress, Jones took to the side roads.

After several twists and turns through the backstreets, Jones turned into a familiar road. His foot lifted from the accelerator and the Datsun slowed.

A large truck shot from a side street and hurtled down the opposite street, a few yards in front of the car. Jones didn’t react, he just stared down the road.

The sound of a klaxon behind Jones caused him to look back over his shoulder and see an irate llama carriage drive urging him out of the way. Jones sighed and moved a short distance up the road and parked the car. The llama carriage passed him in a flurry of expletives from the driver.

“So, what do you reckon, girl?” Jones whispered to the Datsun. “Do you reckon this is fate?”

The Datsun stayed silent.

Jones stared down the road for a few seconds before slowly getting out of the car and walking slowly down the footpath before pausing in front of a restaurant.

The sign on the restaurant read “Nicks Pie and Mash Place”. Jones fought the urge to add the apostrophe as he examined it. The original name had been painted over, but “Nico’s Cypriana Grill” could just be made out under the streaky white paint.

This was where they all came after the Maryfield’s case. It was an evening of a constant stream of hot, spicy Mezas kept afloat by gallons of cheap red wine. It was an evening of joking, dancing and shattered crockery.

They’d all been there; even the Assistant Chief Constable had turned up briefly before leaving a bundle of notes behind the bar, making diplomatic excuses and slipping away. The Superintendant had shown real talent when he blasted out some Tom Jones numbers. Tom Watson and Dougie Brown had attempted traditional Greek dancing and ended up in a writhing heap on the floor, incapable of getting back to their feet through drink and laughter. Brian Watson and Rosa had shown everybody how it should be done amid rowdy applause. Jones had embarrassed himself by murdering a Greek folk song, yet still managed to get the loudest cheer of the night.

Jones hand took a tentative grip on the door handle as he took a deep breath.

A bell tinkled somewhere in the gloom as he entered. He’d barely taken a step before the short, dumpy form of Cipria Constantine rushing from behind the bar.

“Inspector! It is you! Come in! Come in!” Cipria gushed in a thick Greek accent as she enveloped Jones in a breath sapping hug.

“It’s good to see you again, Mrs Constantine” Jones gasped as he extricated himself.

“You are looking well.” Cipria spoke deliberately and managed to almost subdue her accent. “Rosa is in the back room.  You go through. I’ll get Nico to fix you some pie.”

“No thanks, Mrs.C” Jones laughed as he held his hands in mock surrender. “I can’t stay long and I have dinner waiting at home. “

“Are you sure?” Cipria had her accent fully under control now.

“I’m sure, now if you were offering up some of those meatballs of yours...” Jones gave a grin and a wink. “Absolutely delicious, I can’t understand why you stopped serving those wonderful home cooked Greek dishes of yours.”

“Us British, we don’t like the spicy foreign foods.” Cipria gave a shrug and then drew herself up to her full height. “So, we just give them what they need, good wholesome British Pies.”

Jones nodded slowly and decided against taking the subject further. “Rosa’s in the back room you say?”

Cipria nodded. Jones gave her one last hug and turned towards the back room.

As Jones started to make his way through the restaurant, he noticed a priest sitting alone at one of the tables, his wide brimmed hat hung on the chair opposite. The priest looked up from his large meat pie, noticed Jones and gave a wave. Jones gave a half smile and a nod and continued through to the back room.

The Man Who Preached the Funeral

Just a flying visit to bring you part 40 of “A Couple of Tenors Short”.

Another difficult track lyric that provides the title, but as always, I give you the answer.

OK, the quiz question out of the way, here is my mantra. This is a serial. Any new-joiners should start with the opener known as Part One.    

The troublesome recap has now settled into its new home. You can find the recap here!

Now read on...

The lift doors opened. The lift greeted the pair with a quote from The Simpsons in the original Greek.

The security man pressed the button for the ground floor, waited for the lift to start to move and then pressed the stop button. The lift gave a shudder and halted between floors.

“Inspector, we do have a leak.” The security man turned and faced Jones. “You were right, it was one of my men who reviewed the CCTV footage with your constable, but none of my men were authorised to talk to Sir Terrence.”

“I didn’t tell my men where we were going until we were in the car. Unless...” Jones stroked his moustache. “Unless one of them made contact while I was inside the club.”

“It is a most irritating complication.” David Heatherington withdrew a business card from his backpack and gave it to Jones. “This makes it all the more imperative we co-operate fully. That is if you feel that you can trust me?”

Jones turned the business card over in his fingers and said nothing.

“Inspector, the reason I am interested in this case is because of the interest of Sir Terrence Cauldron – not on his behalf.” Heatherington placed the bag on the floor then clasped his hands together. “There is always curiosity about ambitious men and sometimes there is a need to clarify the methods such men are willing to employ to satiate that ambition.”

“Are you saying that people suspect that Cauldron is planning a coup?” Jones asked incredulously

“Sir Terence is a very rich man. He made a fortune with his electronics business to add to the family fortune before he reached the age of thirty.” Heatherington stared at the ceiling of the lift. “He then entered politics and within three years became a cabinet minister and the darling of the media. Such success can invoke jealousies.”

“So somebody asked you to find something that would slow his progress down.” Jones sneered.

“Inspector, let’s just say that we were asked to make sure that we were getting exactly what was written on the tin.” The security man looked at the inspector and raised his eyebrows.

“I see. So just where did our two investigations start to overlap?” Jones asked flatly.

“Around the time that Sir Andrew Witherspoon felt the need to inform Cauldron of his meeting with Vera Adkins.” Heatherington sighed. “But I cannot explain why.”

“You mean you won’t explain.” Jones snapped back.

“No, I do mean cannot.” The security man shook his head. “So many of the files seem to be missing and my normally reliable memory keeps failing me. Yet, everyone else seems to rationalise and accept it all as being perfectly normal.”

“The whole world is out of step except me.” Jones mumbled.

“A very apt phrase! There is something that enables you to see things that others, including myself, seem to miss.” the security man jabbed a finger towards Jones. “Take the fish and chip wrappers for instance. Everyone reads their fish and chip wrappers as they eat from them, yet you are the only person who noticed that story. Such is the hysteria of the moment, I find that... odd.”

David Heatherington leaned slightly towards Jones and waited for a response.

“Oh come on, are you suggesting that I had something to do with it?” Jones looked at Heatherington open mouthed.

“It was a theory I briefly considered, along with others equally ludicrous, but did you?” Heatherington asked flatly.

“Of course not.” Jones spoke emphatically, but couldn’t hold the gaze of the security man.