I’ve been meaning to write this for a couple of weeks, but due to real life and falling behind with almost everything on the blog, it’s take me till now to do it.
So, we have our flute, we have our Fae, all we need now are a few photographs.. who remembers the original plot line? I’m trying to put a bit more background to it instead of just having stuff happen for no apparent reason. I’d love to know your opinions 🙂
Nothing of any consequence happened over the days that followed. Inspector Coxson took Joe the flute player in for an informal chat at the police station which Reid Granger sat in on. It didn’t really help though, he had a cast iron alibi for all three of the evenings in question, he provided names of other buskers who may have been in the vicinity at the time, he said how awful it must be for the women involved and he wished he could be of more help. The Inspector thanked him for his time and he left, promising to pop back in if he remembered anything else.
Granger went back to his office to call Julianna, he wanted to keep her as up to date as possible, apologising that he didn’t have more to tell her. It was okay she told him, she knew these things took time. She didn’t mention that there were odd flickers of light that appeared and disappeared at random around her home. She never told him that on more than one occasion she could have sworn she’d heard whispered voices. She put it down to stress and too much coffee. Next time she went shopping she would buy decaff instead. Just for one cup a day to start with, wouldn’t do to cut out the caffeine completely.
Jenna and Sabrina had also seen the flickering lights, mostly whilst they were working and then again when they were drinking together after hours. They decided one of the strobe lights must be faulty and after that.. well they did tend to drink a lot, it made sleeping at night a lot easier.
Frederic Steinmann kept a close eye on them and when Julianna returned to work he’d be watching her too. Something wasn’t right about this whole business and he was determined to find out what.
In a leafy suburb a postman was making his rounds, whistling to himself as he went. How the other half live he mused as walked up one of the longer driveways that had two rather expensive cars with his and hers number plates on them. Mock Tudor beams adorned the front of the house, the garden was immaculate, as it should be, the gardener that was employed by the home owners was not cheap. They still have bills to pay though he muttered as he pushed a wedge of letters through the post box, they just don’t have to get up at 4:30am to do it.
It was a few hours later when Guy Keeton bounded down the stairs, picked the post up off the floor, flicked through it briefly and decided there was nothing important or interesting. He threw it on the kitchen table, then he made a coffee which he gulped down, grabbed his briefcase and with a “bye honey” left the house for a business meeting.
Later still his wife Raquel was making lunch for herself and a girlfriend when she noticed the various envelopes strewn across the table. They seemed to be mostly bills but a slightly larger one caught her eye. It was addressed to her husband. She picked it up and thought about opening it, then she remembered it was their anniversary next month. Maybe he was planning on taking her away somewhere and the envelope contained details of the booking. She decided to leave it alone and not spoil any surprises he might have planned.
Raquel and her friend spent the afternoon gossiping and trying to figure what he might have in store for her.
That evening after Raquel had announced her intention to take a very long bath, Guy sat at the ornate mahogany desk in his study, nursing a glass of 30 year old single malt. One by one he opened the envelopes that had dropped on the doormat earlier that day, each one seemed to contain something that needed paying or a letter trying to sell him some service he didn’t want. He hadn’t deliberately left the largest one till last, it just happened to be on the bottom of the pile. He slid his paper knife under the seal and then pulled out what looked like photographs. What on earth…? he thought to himself. He reached for his glass and almost dropped it straight on the floor when he realised exactly what it was he was looking at.
“Fucking hell…” he breathed.