Well, My Dandruff Is Loose.

This is part 50 of “A Couple of Tenors Short”. Yes, you heard correctly, this is part 50 of my serial. I don’t know about you, but I wasn’t sure if this would make it to the half century. It has got here though and there is certainly more to come.

If you are one of the stoical yeomen who has stuck with this from Part One, you will be amazed to learn that you have trudged your way through over 37 000 words! Hopefully, you have enjoyed your little foray into my synaptic meanderings and are able to follow what passes for a plot.

For the purposes of my own sanity, I would like to point out that there are some themes I need to develop and rework in what you have read so far. There are some serious points buried amongst the madness and these are tinged with satire in a couple of cases as well!

So, with my self-back slapping out of the way, I should see if I can find a quiz question related to ‘50’. This one is so easy you shouldn’t need 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...

Jones and Pippa, sat together on the sofa and thumbed through the files together until Jones suddenly closed the file and stared blankly at the far wall.

“Pippa, why don’t I remember all of this?” Jones asked quietly.

“I don’t know.” Pippa straightened up and gave a shrug. “I should remember too, but it is all rather patchy.”

“This case was two years of my professional life, the biggest case I ever worked on.” Jones continued to stare at the wall.

“Plus it was when we first met.” Pippa stroked his arm. “And my big break.”

There was a long silence.

“I’m not mad, you know that, don’t you?” Jones voice was a mere whisper.

“Of course not!” Pippa gave a laugh and gave him a hug.

Jones sat stiffly as Pippa hugged him for several minutes, before she kissed him lightly on the cheek and drew back.

“Do you want to talk about it, Glynn?” she asked softly.

Jones expelled a long breath noisily and then rubbed his face with both hands before biting his lip and staring at the ceiling.

“It’s very difficult. There are things...”The words trailed away as Jones turned to face Pippa.

He looked at her twinkling eyes and her concerned smile.

“It’s OK, Glynn. There is no need to hold things back. It will help us both if you talk it through.”

Jones couldn’t look at Pippa any longer and turned away.

“Glynn?” Pippa moved forward so she was in Jones’s vision.

Jones sat stiffly shaking his head, eyes closed and biting his lip. A tear trickled down his cheek. Pippa leaned in and held him close. Jones could feel her warm soft body pressing against him, feel her breath on his neck and smell her musky perfume. Despite everything, his body began to react.

“I can’t. Not tonight...” Jones let the words trail away. “It’s been a difficult day and I feel so tired.”

Jones extricated himself from the embrace and stood up. Bending at the waist he leaned down and kissed Pippa on the nose.

“Is there another woman?” Pippa pulled back and glared at Jones.

“What?” Jones’s mouth opened wide and he froze. “No! No, it’s not that. It’s just... It’s just that there are so many things that I can’t explain. The disappearance of McRamie, this moustache, my clothes, the sudden hero worship of Horace Adkins, the food, the priest and ......”

Pippa tilted her head to one side and said nothing. The silence lingered between them.

“I can’t explain it. Not tonight, I’m just too tired and I think I love you too much...” The shock of his words caused  Jones to drop to his knees at Pippa’s feet and clutch both her hands in his own. “Perhaps when I can explain one thing, anything, then maybe I could.”

Pippa leaned down and kissed Jones on the forehead. “Perhaps you should just get some rest, Glynn. You go up and I’ll be up in a bit.”

Jones lifted himself off his knees and kissed Pippa lightly on the lips. “I’m sorry...”

“Shhh.” Pippa cut him off by placing a finger on his lips. “You’ve just had a hard day. After a good night’s sleep you’ll feel better. I’ll be up in a bit, I just need to sort out a few things for work tomorrow.”

An hour later, when Pippa came up, Jones was lying on his back staring at the ceiling. He didn’t move when Pippa came into the bedroom. He didn’t react when Pippa came out of the bathroom in a pink satin robe.

Pippa slipped into the bed and snuggled up to Jones. Instinctively he placed his left arm around her shoulders and pulled her close. Pippa responded by raining light kisses on his neck as she stroked his bare chest.  

“I went to see Rosa today.” Jones stated flatly.

“How is she?” Pippa stopped stroking his chest and lifted herself up onto an elbow so she could see Jones’s face.

“Angry.” Jones turned his head to face Pippa.

After Jones had related the events at the restaurant, Pippa turned away and reached into her nightstand.

“Here, take these.” Pippa held out her hand containing two pills. “They’ll help you sleep tonight and then in the morning, you will ring Rosa and apologise.”

Jones looked at the pills and then Pippa.

“It’s OK.” Pippa gave a small laugh. “They’re organic. Just take them and get some sleep. Everything will look much better in the morning. Promise.”

Jones nodded and took the pills.

 

Hope To Chain This Memory

Life has far too many distractions. Things that lure you away from what good boys and girls do with their time. Well, I have found another one of those distractions, Fallen London. A well thought out and deceptively simple on-line game based around Twitter, this has really got me hooked. If you take time to explore it, you will discover why. It has the same kind of strange sense of humour and imagination to which I would aspire. The really good news is that you are limited to 70 moves a day, which means it doesn’t lure you too far away from the good boys and girls.

For those of you who want to stick close to the stereotypical good boy, Glynn Jones, here is part 48 of “A Couple of Tenors Short”.

There is another quiz question associated with the part number. Another one where I’d never heard of the artists or the song, still, it’s a doddle if you know 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...

Jones hated liver. Well, Jones hated liver cooked the English way, fried until a pale grey and then casseroled until it made a passable shoe leather substitute. It was fine flash fried, with a touch of garlic, but Pippa’s version came served with lumpy gravy and stringy onions, accompanied by pale green cabbage and runny mashed potatoes.

Jones had his left elbow on the table with his head resting on his hand as he prodded a piece of liver around the plate.  Pippa kept talking about people he didn’t know and how they were going to break the story about Horace Adkins working for the Government.

“What was that?” Jones looks away from the liver with a start as something Pippa said penetrated the fog.

“You weren’t listening to a word I was saying were you?” Pippa looked at him and smiled. “I said I wouldn’t be surprised if Simon Cowell had to resign as PM over this.”

“Really?” Jones narrowed his eyes and shook his head.

“Oh yes, he’s losing all his popular support with his refusal to give poor Horace Adkins a State Funeral  and this, combined with some of the statements he has made over the need for the highest integrity in office could well be his downfall.”

“So what would happen then?” Jones

Pippa gave a shrug. “They’d probably be a leadership contest. Until then, I guess the Deputy PM would be in charge.”

“So, they would put old Brucie in charge?” Jones shook his head. “He must be eighty if he’s a day!”

“He’s eighty-two, but it would only be temporary.” Pippa took a mouthful of liver without flinching. “They’ll run the leadership contest quickly. There will probably be only one candidate, Sir Terence Cauldron.”

“What!” Jones spluttered, and then regained his composure to add. “No proper contest?”

Pippa looked at him for a moment. “Why do I get the feeling there is something you are not telling me?”

Jones gave up his chasing of the liver and looked at his wife. Pippa fixed him with a seductive stare. “You know that I have ways of getting you to tell everything.”

Jones laughed it off and left the table.

After clearing up dinner, Jones went to his study and started searching through the drawers of his desk. After a couple of minutes, he became aware of Pippa stood in the doorway.

“What are you looking for?”  She asked.

“I’m missing a folder from work. I wondered if I brought it home by mistake.” Jones answered without looking up.

Jones opened a draw and was confronted with several thick folders. He pulled them out of the drawer and dropped them on the desk.

“The Maryfield case.” Jones sat back in his chair and looked at the pile of folders. “There must be months of work here. Why on earth can’t we remember it?”

“You are a one, Glynn Jones.” Pippa rolled her eyes as she spoke. “It was what caused us to first meet, remember?”

Jones could remember. Pippa Hucknell had been working for a local paper. She was already at Maryfields when Jones had arrived with Smithy and Watson. Jones remembered the way her blonde hair seemed to glow in the damp morning gloom. Jones could remember being totally distracted by her legs. Jones remembered the way she glided towards him, held out her hand and caused him to gibber a greeting like a lovelorn teenager.

“I don’t think I’d ever forget that.” Jones turned and smiled at Pippa. “It is just for the life of me, I cannot remember what the Maryfields case was all about.”

Pippa looked at Jones and stroked a long finger over her lips. “You know what, darling? Neither can I!”

Smile Down Upon Your Son, Hey, Hey.

Here it is! Laid out before you for your delectation is the very troublesome part 43 of “A Couple of Tenors Short”. This has been an absolute nightmare to get to this point, but I still don’t think it is right. There is going to be work needed on the edit I think, so any feedback will be most helpful.

There is another quiz question associated with the part number. Given that I think it is an easier one, the picture clue is more obscure. 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 revealing of the elephant that had been lurking in the room was never going to pleasant.  Smithy had squirmed and fidgeted in his chair wringing his hands and steadfastly refusing any eye contact with Jones. There were long silences punctuated by Smithy making occasional false starts on his explanation. Each false start from Smithy made Jones twitch slightly and grip the arms of his chair even tighter.

Smithy eventually started by describing the accident to Rosa Constantine. Rosa was a young, vibrant and ambitious officer. They had been on a raid and one of the suspects had climbed out of a window and climbed up onto the roof of the small industrial unit. Jones and Rosa had spotted him. She had sprinted up a fire escape after him. Jones didn’t call her back.

As Rosa chased the suspect across the roof, Jones had directed things from below, he ran alongside the unit catching glimpses of the suspect and Rosa above. The suspect reached the edge of the roof and leapt across to the roof of the unit next door. Rosa paused, composed herself and then made the leap herself. Jones had run along the front of the unit and watched the suspect leap from that roof onto the roof of the next unit.

Rosa made the leap, but quickly re-appeared on the edge of the roof. For a few seconds, she had tried to regain her balance with flailing arms, but to no avail. Rosa fell and broke her back.

Inside his head, the memories slunk out from behind a heavy curtain. He’d been the first to reach Rosa. As soon as he got there, he realised she was in a bad way. He screamed for an ambulance as he tore off his jacket. It appeared she was sleeping, but the way she lay contorted on the concrete. It was clear she was in a bad way.

Jones alternately screamed for an ambulance and made Rosa promises. As she lay there, Jones promised that she was going to be OK and that he would get the man who pushed her from the roof.

Only, she didn’t make a full recovery. Her broken back meant she was consigned to a wheelchair. It didn’t help that the man on the roof got away. Worse still was the insistence of everyone that there was no evidence of a push, only of a fall.

As Jones continued to try and disturb the stubborn recollections that lurked behind the curtains in his fallible memory, he became aware that Smithy had paused and was looking at his ashen face.

“And?” Jones glared back at Smithy.

“Well...” Smithy looked back down at his hands in his lap. “You know...”

Jones continued to glare at Smithy while letting the silence build.

“It wasn’t your fault, everyone knows that.” Smithy spoke quietly when the silence became too heavy to hold. “But you wouldn’t listen to any of us. “

It took long applications of many heavy silences, but Jones managed to drag the rest of the story from his reluctant sergeant.

After the raid, catching the suspect on the roof became an obsession for Jones. He spent longer and longer in the office, sacrificing food and sleep in his quest to find him. The only breaks he took where to visit Rosa. After each visit he would return home and demolish a bottle of whisky. His behaviour and moods became increasingly erratic. If anyone tried to suggest he take a break, he would flare into an incandescent rage and become paranoid. He started sleeping under his desk. The tablets he took to keep himself awake served to exaggerate his moods.

Then the obsessions began. The need for Jones to wash his hands after touching any of the case files. The compulsion that everything on his desk was organised in an exact manner and the way even a misaligned pencil caused him to accuse his colleagues of sabotage and worse.

It all came to a head when Jones had become convinced he had his man. They had him in the interview room and Jones had been questioning him when he produced a cast iron alibi. Jones had erupted and flown at the suspect. It had taken three of them to restrain him. It required two more to get Jones into the ambulance. He had been admitted to St Michael’s Clinic. They’d all thought his career was over, that Jones would never be allowed to return, but he did, helped in no small measure by the way he handled his evidence when the Maryfield’s case came to trial.

It was like having an elderly relative recount their memories of a fondly remembered day at the seaside only ten time times worse. Your memories are of the sun, energetic games on the beach; ice-cream; noisy, bustling arcades; candy-floss and chips eaten out of the wrapper.  The elderly relative recounts tales of sun-burn, children getting lost on the beach, exorbitant prices and projectile vomit on the car journey home. When you hear the alternative version, you realise that there is truth, but it is as if the version relates to somebody else.

“So, I went mad.” Jones broke the long silence that followed Smithy’s account.

“No, guv.” Smithy’s voice was a hoarse whisper. “You had a breakdown caused by stress, guilt, a lack of sleep, no food, booze and those damn tablets. Those tablets caused you to lose your grip on reality.”

“What is worse, you think it is happening again.”

“No!” Smithy glared at Jones. “Glynn, we just want to make sure it doesn’t.”

They're Just Living in my Head

After a gap where I have been thinking about the future of mankind, I return to what I hope is happier subjects with part 421 of “A Couple of Tenors Short”.

As always, the picture is a clue and 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...

When he returned to his desk, Sir Andrew Witherspoon was waiting for him.

“Inspector Jones, I trust that your Superintendant has set your mind at rest over bail for my client?” Sir Andrew grinned broadly.

“He explained the situation and has made it clear what is expected of me.” Jones grinned in return. “We will be in a position to bail your client first thing in the morning.”

“WHAT! But Inspector, this is uncalled for!” Sir Andrew shouted and slammed a fist down onto Jones’s desk.

 Politely, yet firmly, Jones explained that he needed the address of where Dunker Phil would be staying while on bail and that he would need to liaise with the local police to make sure that they were aware of the arrangement to allow them to take appropriate steps. Jones explained that his Superintendant had been most clear that only when these matters had been resolved could he bail Dunker Phil.

Sir Andrew had stood glaring at Jones before writing down the address, curtly wishing him ‘Good Day’ and storming from the office.

“First problem down.” Jones whispered to himself as he watched him go. “Smithy? Can you join me in the meeting room?”

Jones stood by the door and when Smithy arrived motioned for him to take a seat, slowly closed the door and then took the seat opposite him.

“What’s up, guv?” Smithy asked while slowly running his hand over the back of his neck.

“What were you doing on the 16^th April?” Jones asked quietly.

“Well... we went to the McRamie house to investigate his abduction.”  Smithy’s eyes narrowed as he answered.

“You didn’t remember that until we went back the other day, so apart from that.” Jones clasped his hands together on the table and leant forward.

Smithy shifted in his seat and scratched the back of his head.  Jones watched in silence.

“OK, Smithy, let’s try another.” Jones cut in after about half a minute of silence. “Tell me about the Maryfield case.”

“C’mon, guv.” Smithy whined. “You and I are both a touch hazy over that.”

“I know.” Jones leaned back in his chair and put his hands behind his head. “But I guess you have had a chance to chat with the others to refresh your memory.”

“Yeah, but...” Smithy’s voice trailed off and he bit his lip.

“But what?” Jones pressed.

“Johnson wasn’t with us then, Tom is off sick and Brown thinks he was on leave.”

Jones nodded slowly and leant forward. “How long have you been suffering with these memory loss problems?”

Smithy looked at Jones opened mouthed.

“It’s OK, Smithy.” Jones spoke softly. “I know it’s difficult to admit that you have a problem.”

“I haven’t got a problem!” Smithy leapt from his chair. “Nobody can remember everything! You’re the...”

“Sit Down!” Jones spoke firmly.

Smithy slowly sat back in the chair.

“From what I can tell, everybody around here is having these strange memory problems. Something is happening, I don’t know what or why, but they are. It’s not just you or me.”

“You sure?” Smithy pouted.

Jones nodded slowly. “But that doesn’t give you an excuse to try and cover your own frailties up by running to the Super suggesting that I am somehow unfit for duty.”

“That’s not fair, guv – and you know it.”  Smithy pointed a shaking finger at Jones. “The Super asked me to keep an eye on you because we care about you. We were worried about you, wanted to make sure that you weren’t coming back to work to soon after...”

Smithy’s finger slowly sank into his lap. He could no longer keep Jones’s gaze and he lapsed into a sullen silence.

“Too soon after what, Smithy?”

“You know” Smithy’s voice was barely a whisper.

“You’ll have to tell me, Smithy. I’m having one of those memory lapses.”