Concept date: 3rd July, 2019
First published: 4th August, 2019.Status: COMPLETED.
Version: EXTENDED.
Age recommendation: 15+
Average Reading Time: Approximately 45 Minutes.
Age recommendation: 15+
Average Reading Time: Approximately 45 Minutes.
Revisions: 6. [Last Edit: March 2020]
Angel-in-charge: Margret Team Assigned: Team 74
Human Time: 1974AD-1393AH Mission: 590389 - 2 - 8012
Angel-in-charge: Margret Team Assigned: Team 74
Human Time: 1974AD-1393AH Mission: 590389 - 2 - 8012
MISSION SUMMARY: "Dave Fisher and his girlfriend Sally are amazed to discover that a great uncle of Dave's has died and left his rambling old house to his young great nephew. 'Salem House' stands alone in the wilds of Yorkshire, off the beaten track and with few neighbours, the old house is steeped in legend and stories of ghosts and strange happenings. But that won't put the young couple off and they move to the old house in June 1974 and find that the old place does, indeed hide an incredible secret. Jericho Tibbs is now on the case after the pair simply vanish......."
W.A.S.
This episode contains bad language and sexual references.
"This is a work of fiction. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead or actual events is purely coincidental." The Author.
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| 45 Min. |
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| Book series 3. |
"THE JERUSALEM MIRROR."
1. 3rd MAY 1974 - A SOLICITOR CALLS.
Sally eased from the bed and pushed her long blond hair back whilst snatching up her dressing gown from the floor. The door bell sounded again and she muttered; "First bloody time we have a real lay in this week and someone is at the door." She looked back at Dave sprawled under the covers and shook her head; "Christ, You'd sleep through a bloody bomb going off." Sally wrapped her dressing gown around her naked body and made for the stairs.
She made her way down the stairs, passing the sleeping cat; Amy, on the top stair, who sat up and followed. "I'm coming!" She said loudly and reached the door, picking up several pieces of mail from the carpet. She tidied her hair and checked her dressing gown, then unlocked the front door and opened it a few inches. "Hello, can I help you. We're just having a lay in - we both do shift work you see," She said to the middle aged, well dressed man standing on their step, clutching a leather briefcase. He smiled; "Does David Edward Fisher live here?" He asked and offered Sally a little white business card.
Sally took the card and read it slowly. "Your a lawyer from York?" She sounded quite surprised and held her dressing gown together quite tightly with the other hand. She didn't really want to flash a bloody solicitor at this time of the morning.
Patrick Well's nodded; "Yes, I'm here to speak to a David Edward Fisher, whose father was Norman David Fisher and Grand-father was Edward John Fisher - all from Sheffield." He rummaged around in his briefcase and pulled some papers out. "I'm here about his Great-Uncle Wesley's will."
"I didn't even know he had a Great-Uncle?" She was really surprised by that revelation; David's parents were both dead and he had no brothers or sisters. She slowly pulled the door chain off and opened the door. "You'd better come in and I'll get the idle bugger out of his pit." Sally smiled and gestured for Patrick Well's to go into the living room, whilst she headed back up the stairs and then cursed herself; the bloody man only had to glance up, to see her bare bum. She really should invest in a longer dressing gown, she mused. Sally didn't look back down the stairs to see if he was watching.
She smiled to herself as she reached the bedroom door; still he was a good looking well groomed man at least - he probably wouldn't object to seeing a 22 year old woman's private parts, especially one, most men considered 'pretty'. Well, non-one had complained, when she dances at the 'Blue Star Club' until the early hours of the morning. Her costume barely covered anything - but the money was good and she really needed money.
She sighed and really didn't want to think about the debt they were in - it gave her enough sleepless days and nights already. Sally stared at the man snoring under the covers and had to smile; David had stood by her throughout the court cases and debt orders, the bailiffs and repossessions. She actually shuddered at the thoughts that crowded quickly into her head - and now a bloody solicitor turns up at this time of the morning and she flashes her arse at him!
She shook David strongly and told him about the visitor, telling him to slip on a T-shirt and track bottoms and get down stairs. She would slip on some panties and her long padded house coat - and told him to put the bloody kettle on!
Dave was mumbling about he hasn't got any fucking Uncles. He had never heard of a Great-Uncle bleeding Wesley. He stumbled down the stairs into the front room and greeted the solicitor - apologising for still being in bed, but he had finished night-shift at the local Meat Distribution Depot of Dewhurst the Butchers.
The solicitor waved his apology away with a smile; "I should be the one to apologise Mr. Fisher, I was in the area dealing with a complicated conveyance and I thought I would try my luck." Dave gestured for him to sit and he would put the kettle on. The solicitor continued; "We have written several times and received no replies, so I thought a personal visit would be best." He sat and pulled more papers from his briefcase. "I'll make some tea." Dave muttered and headed for the kitchen, followed by Amy the cat who wanted her breakfast.
Dave switched the kettle on and sighed; "Great-Uncle Wesley?" He had never heard his parents speak of such a man - he couldn't ask them now; they had both passed on five years ago, after suffering a car accident on a dirt road in Spain, whilst on holiday. A tractor had pulled from a field, straight in front of them. Apparently it took an ambulance nearly a hour to reach the accident site - it was in the foothills of some mountains. They were both dead upon arrival at the local hospital.
He didn't want to be reminded of those dark days and pushed it from his mind as he made tea; yelling to the solicitor how he likes his - milk and two sugars came the reply. Sally appeared in the doorway and whispered; "What the fuck is this all about?" Dave shrugged his shoulders and whispered back; "I've never heard of a bloody Great-Uncle Wesley. He says that they have written to me several times - I've never seen any bloody letters from them."
Sally looked down at the business card and covered her mouth with a hand; "Dave, I'm so sorry. I've seen letters with this Solicitors address on and panicked. I chucked them away. I'm so sorry. I thought they were after me for more money." Dave just shook his head; "Don't worry about it sweetheart - he's here now." He passed her a cup of tea and wandered into the living room with a cup for the solicitor.
Sally stood in the kitchen and sipped her tea; without Dave's steadfast support she really didn't know what would have happened to her. She had lost her flat, her car and even the bloody bank had closed her accounts. She had to leave a couple of steady jobs working in supermarkets because men had turned up at work, threatening her for money, even the Tax man was after his share and Sally found that she was paying a lot of her wages back to the Inland revenue - she struggled with that and finally had to find a job that paid cash in hand; the 'Blue Star Club' did that for her.
Now, four nights a week until the early hours; she danced and served drinks for money in her hand - that had helped greatly. but she really did feel ashamed, that she paraded around the club with a little silver tray and not much else. Her 'uniform' consisted of a little black mini skirt, high heels, frilly white apron, panties and stockings - nothing else - but a black dog collar around her neck with silver lettering showing ' Blue Star Club'. On certain nights she could earn really good tips by completing her duties without any panties on.
Then, there was the chances of earning really serious money by having sex with certain customers at the club. Leon, came immediately to mind; he always gave her twenty pounds each time [good money for the era], when she called around his plush apartment in the city on her night off - always when Dave was still on shift. The big African clearly liked small, blond white girls with ample breasts and he paid well for her company. He wanted her for his full time mistress and would keep her in comfort, at one of the apartments he owned - if she agreed - she hadn't done so because of what she owed Dave for his unswerving support.
She sighed and then snapped from her thoughts as Dave called her into the living room. She forced a smile and wandered in and sat down - Amy jumped upon her lap and started cleaning herself. Dave grinned broadly and gripped her hand; "You are never going to believe what Patrick has just told me - I've inherited a house near the Yorkshire Moors. Great-Uncle Wesley died without a wife or any children and I'm his nearest blood relative still living. He was my Grandfather's youngest brother - I had never heard Grandpa or dad ever talk about him."
Sally couldn't really absorb what Dave was saying for some minutes and then realised this could be the answer to all her problems. She cuddled him, pushing the cat from her lap; "I really won't believe it until I see the place with my own eyes!" She exclaimed and kissed him - much to the amusement of the solicitor who advised the pair to make an appointment with him at his York offices - to receive the keys and sign for the property. There was also a little cash to come.
"How much cash?" Sally asked straight away and was told that Great-Uncle Wesley had left David about fifteen hundred pounds - after Death Duties had been paid and, of course, some debts owned by his late Great-Uncles estate - not to mention Solicitors fee's.
So the happy couple made arrangement to visit 'Salem House; as soon as possible. Sally danced and served drinks that night; with a smile on her face. But Dave worried about his inheritance and what it would mean for the future of the pair. One thought troubled him above the rest; why hadn't his father and grandfather ever spoken about 'Great Uncle Wesley'?
2. 17th JUNE 1974 - SALEM HOUSE - PART 1.
Dave jumped from the old Vauxhall Viva and stared at the old house, a little amazed that he actually owned it. Sally grabbed him around the waist and planted a big kiss on his lips. "I still can't bloody believe its yours." She kissed him again. Dave grinned and held up the keys; "Ours." He said softly and the pair embraced in the overgrown driveway.
The removal lorry driver shook his head and stared up at the old house and turned to the other men in the cab; "I wouldn't have this fucking place if it came with gold beds." The younger man nodded and handed around the cigarettes; "I'd fuck his young tart, fantastic pair of tits." He muttered, quietly smoking. They watched as the young couple hugged and celebrated outside the old house.
Paddy the driver stared up at 'Salem House' and stopped smoking, very quietly he spoke to the other two men; "Look up at the attic on the right wing, the big window, can you see it?"
The other two men leaned forward and peered through the windscreen. "I see it." Whispered the younger man, his cigarette falling from his lips onto the cab floor. Terry gripped the dash and swore; "Fucking shit! do you see her as well!"
All three men watched the figure standing at the dirty window in amazement; "Like something out of an old film." Paddy said softly and Terry agreed; "Like something in an old portrait you see in museums or those big houses open to the public." Paddy crossed himself and kissed the little crucifix that hung around his neck; "I'd heard all the fucking stories about this shit hole, but never thought I'd see they were true." Terry wiped his face with the back of his hand - he was sweating without actually doing anything - The three exchanged concerned glances and made an unanimous decision; get the stuff into the fucking house as quick as possible and get the fuck out of here. They also decided it would be best - for the young couple - if they said nothing about the figure at the window.
All three men lapsed into a shocked silence as the figure disappeared. Paddy crossed himself again - he had not really prayed in some years; but he did now.
The young couple had unlocked the big double doors and were waving for the removal men to start unloading their possessions. Very reluctantly the men left the cab - all still staring at the upstairs window - and began to shift the boxes and items of furniture from their lorry - in almost silence.
Dave and Sally were so engrossed in their happiness and relief that they had escaped the dingy - and expensive - rented house, they didn't really notice the change in the removal men's mood. They were impressed with the speed that the men unloaded the lorry and piled their stuff in the house. They didn't even wait for the customary tips - disappearing down the drive without so much as a 'goodbye'.
Sally found a comfortable big bedroom on the first floor, near a bathroom and working toilet, and made up the bed whilst Dave brewed tea in the small kitchen, that had been built on the same floor. He had found that cold tap worked, but the hot tap just made gurgling noises.They guessed correctly, this little suite of rooms, had been occupied by Dave's great uncle Wesley, when he was alive.
It was Dave that pointed out the four locks on the bedroom door and as he looked about, he noticed the strange patten woven into the old carpet. He studied it for some minutes before realising that it was a pentagon - what was the significance of that he wondered. Sally called him over to the large Gothic fireplace and both stared at the remains of a bird, burnt in the grate with withered flowers scattered about it. She made Dave clear that revolting mess up straight away.
Dave couldn't open the large window; it had been nailed shut and Sally pulled down the strings of rotted garlic from around the frame and they went in the bin - with the dead bird. "He was one strange old fucker." She said quietly as she cleaned the window frame. Then giggling, she jumped on the bed and bounced up and down upon the large four poster bed, until she looked up and saw the bed's canopy; it was Jesus on the Cross.
"Fucking charming; a religious nut as well as fucking strange and reclusive." She said to Dave, who just chuckled and headed back to the kitchen to see if the electricity meter was on and working. The gas certainly was - he had boiled the kettle on the small two ring stove, that it contained.
The electricity only worked in this suite and he put fifty pence in the meter to start with. They sat on stools in the little kitchen and laughed together; the pairs relief, that most of their problems were behind them now was palatable and obvious. For the first time in quite a while; they were actually happy.
Sally finally did mention about the strange behaviour of the removal men and Dave had to agree; he still had the five pound note, he was going to give them as a tip. He pulled the crumpled note from his pocket as proof - Sally slowly eased it from his fingers with a big smile; "Well, I'll take it as a tip for being your hardworking girlfriend." Dave chuckled and nodded his head; "Your worth every penny." He spoke softly and kissed her - again.
They worked for a couple of hours getting the their rooms ready; the major disappointment was the little 'Bush' portable TV wouldn't pick a signal up. Dave sighed; "I can't find a aerial socket, old Wesley couldn't have had a TV - strange that, but the solicitor said he was an odd old man." Sally's wireless radio wouldn't pick up a signal either. But her stereo record player worked alright and so they played Beatles records and a couple of singles by the 'Mama's and Papa's' as night gathered in.
After a supper of tinned vegetable soup and bread, they jumped into bed and celebrated their good fortune with passionate love-making. They were both soon asleep - but not for long.
Sally suddenly sat up and took a deep breath; what was that noise? She reached over to the ornate bedside cabinet and grabbed up her watch. She pressed the little button and the LCD display showed: '00.00'. Sally then realised - with some relief and some annoyance - that the Grandfather clock in the downstairs hall was chiming Midnight. She glanced at Dave; he was still fast asleep. "A bloody bomb going off wouldn't wake you up." She muttered and flopped back on her pillows, pulling up the sheets again. She counted the chimes as they sounded in the quiet house.
For a second time, she sat straight up and breathed quickly and heavily; The bloody old clock had chimed thirteen times!
She also heard other noises coming from down stairs; it sounded like people having a muffled conversation amongst themselves. She shook Dave quite violently and whispered that they had intruders in the house. He woke and pulled his trousers and shoes on, stopping only to pick up a large, heavy black poker from the fireplace. Sally climbed slowly from the bed and wrapped her long padded coat around her naked body.
Sally noticed that the cat basket was empty; but the food and water appeared untouched. She scrambled about in a nearby cardboard box and found a torch. They quietly headed from the bedroom into the upper hall; both filled with a mix of fear and trepidation.
Sally eased from the bed and pushed her long blond hair back whilst snatching up her dressing gown from the floor. The door bell sounded again and she muttered; "First bloody time we have a real lay in this week and someone is at the door." She looked back at Dave sprawled under the covers and shook her head; "Christ, You'd sleep through a bloody bomb going off." Sally wrapped her dressing gown around her naked body and made for the stairs.
She made her way down the stairs, passing the sleeping cat; Amy, on the top stair, who sat up and followed. "I'm coming!" She said loudly and reached the door, picking up several pieces of mail from the carpet. She tidied her hair and checked her dressing gown, then unlocked the front door and opened it a few inches. "Hello, can I help you. We're just having a lay in - we both do shift work you see," She said to the middle aged, well dressed man standing on their step, clutching a leather briefcase. He smiled; "Does David Edward Fisher live here?" He asked and offered Sally a little white business card.
Sally took the card and read it slowly. "Your a lawyer from York?" She sounded quite surprised and held her dressing gown together quite tightly with the other hand. She didn't really want to flash a bloody solicitor at this time of the morning.
Patrick Well's nodded; "Yes, I'm here to speak to a David Edward Fisher, whose father was Norman David Fisher and Grand-father was Edward John Fisher - all from Sheffield." He rummaged around in his briefcase and pulled some papers out. "I'm here about his Great-Uncle Wesley's will."
"I didn't even know he had a Great-Uncle?" She was really surprised by that revelation; David's parents were both dead and he had no brothers or sisters. She slowly pulled the door chain off and opened the door. "You'd better come in and I'll get the idle bugger out of his pit." Sally smiled and gestured for Patrick Well's to go into the living room, whilst she headed back up the stairs and then cursed herself; the bloody man only had to glance up, to see her bare bum. She really should invest in a longer dressing gown, she mused. Sally didn't look back down the stairs to see if he was watching.
She smiled to herself as she reached the bedroom door; still he was a good looking well groomed man at least - he probably wouldn't object to seeing a 22 year old woman's private parts, especially one, most men considered 'pretty'. Well, non-one had complained, when she dances at the 'Blue Star Club' until the early hours of the morning. Her costume barely covered anything - but the money was good and she really needed money.
She sighed and really didn't want to think about the debt they were in - it gave her enough sleepless days and nights already. Sally stared at the man snoring under the covers and had to smile; David had stood by her throughout the court cases and debt orders, the bailiffs and repossessions. She actually shuddered at the thoughts that crowded quickly into her head - and now a bloody solicitor turns up at this time of the morning and she flashes her arse at him!
She shook David strongly and told him about the visitor, telling him to slip on a T-shirt and track bottoms and get down stairs. She would slip on some panties and her long padded house coat - and told him to put the bloody kettle on!
Dave was mumbling about he hasn't got any fucking Uncles. He had never heard of a Great-Uncle bleeding Wesley. He stumbled down the stairs into the front room and greeted the solicitor - apologising for still being in bed, but he had finished night-shift at the local Meat Distribution Depot of Dewhurst the Butchers.
The solicitor waved his apology away with a smile; "I should be the one to apologise Mr. Fisher, I was in the area dealing with a complicated conveyance and I thought I would try my luck." Dave gestured for him to sit and he would put the kettle on. The solicitor continued; "We have written several times and received no replies, so I thought a personal visit would be best." He sat and pulled more papers from his briefcase. "I'll make some tea." Dave muttered and headed for the kitchen, followed by Amy the cat who wanted her breakfast.
Dave switched the kettle on and sighed; "Great-Uncle Wesley?" He had never heard his parents speak of such a man - he couldn't ask them now; they had both passed on five years ago, after suffering a car accident on a dirt road in Spain, whilst on holiday. A tractor had pulled from a field, straight in front of them. Apparently it took an ambulance nearly a hour to reach the accident site - it was in the foothills of some mountains. They were both dead upon arrival at the local hospital.
He didn't want to be reminded of those dark days and pushed it from his mind as he made tea; yelling to the solicitor how he likes his - milk and two sugars came the reply. Sally appeared in the doorway and whispered; "What the fuck is this all about?" Dave shrugged his shoulders and whispered back; "I've never heard of a bloody Great-Uncle Wesley. He says that they have written to me several times - I've never seen any bloody letters from them."
Sally looked down at the business card and covered her mouth with a hand; "Dave, I'm so sorry. I've seen letters with this Solicitors address on and panicked. I chucked them away. I'm so sorry. I thought they were after me for more money." Dave just shook his head; "Don't worry about it sweetheart - he's here now." He passed her a cup of tea and wandered into the living room with a cup for the solicitor.
Sally stood in the kitchen and sipped her tea; without Dave's steadfast support she really didn't know what would have happened to her. She had lost her flat, her car and even the bloody bank had closed her accounts. She had to leave a couple of steady jobs working in supermarkets because men had turned up at work, threatening her for money, even the Tax man was after his share and Sally found that she was paying a lot of her wages back to the Inland revenue - she struggled with that and finally had to find a job that paid cash in hand; the 'Blue Star Club' did that for her.
Now, four nights a week until the early hours; she danced and served drinks for money in her hand - that had helped greatly. but she really did feel ashamed, that she paraded around the club with a little silver tray and not much else. Her 'uniform' consisted of a little black mini skirt, high heels, frilly white apron, panties and stockings - nothing else - but a black dog collar around her neck with silver lettering showing ' Blue Star Club'. On certain nights she could earn really good tips by completing her duties without any panties on.
Then, there was the chances of earning really serious money by having sex with certain customers at the club. Leon, came immediately to mind; he always gave her twenty pounds each time [good money for the era], when she called around his plush apartment in the city on her night off - always when Dave was still on shift. The big African clearly liked small, blond white girls with ample breasts and he paid well for her company. He wanted her for his full time mistress and would keep her in comfort, at one of the apartments he owned - if she agreed - she hadn't done so because of what she owed Dave for his unswerving support.
She sighed and then snapped from her thoughts as Dave called her into the living room. She forced a smile and wandered in and sat down - Amy jumped upon her lap and started cleaning herself. Dave grinned broadly and gripped her hand; "You are never going to believe what Patrick has just told me - I've inherited a house near the Yorkshire Moors. Great-Uncle Wesley died without a wife or any children and I'm his nearest blood relative still living. He was my Grandfather's youngest brother - I had never heard Grandpa or dad ever talk about him."
Sally couldn't really absorb what Dave was saying for some minutes and then realised this could be the answer to all her problems. She cuddled him, pushing the cat from her lap; "I really won't believe it until I see the place with my own eyes!" She exclaimed and kissed him - much to the amusement of the solicitor who advised the pair to make an appointment with him at his York offices - to receive the keys and sign for the property. There was also a little cash to come.
"How much cash?" Sally asked straight away and was told that Great-Uncle Wesley had left David about fifteen hundred pounds - after Death Duties had been paid and, of course, some debts owned by his late Great-Uncles estate - not to mention Solicitors fee's.
So the happy couple made arrangement to visit 'Salem House; as soon as possible. Sally danced and served drinks that night; with a smile on her face. But Dave worried about his inheritance and what it would mean for the future of the pair. One thought troubled him above the rest; why hadn't his father and grandfather ever spoken about 'Great Uncle Wesley'?
2. 17th JUNE 1974 - SALEM HOUSE - PART 1.
Dave jumped from the old Vauxhall Viva and stared at the old house, a little amazed that he actually owned it. Sally grabbed him around the waist and planted a big kiss on his lips. "I still can't bloody believe its yours." She kissed him again. Dave grinned and held up the keys; "Ours." He said softly and the pair embraced in the overgrown driveway.
The removal lorry driver shook his head and stared up at the old house and turned to the other men in the cab; "I wouldn't have this fucking place if it came with gold beds." The younger man nodded and handed around the cigarettes; "I'd fuck his young tart, fantastic pair of tits." He muttered, quietly smoking. They watched as the young couple hugged and celebrated outside the old house.
Paddy the driver stared up at 'Salem House' and stopped smoking, very quietly he spoke to the other two men; "Look up at the attic on the right wing, the big window, can you see it?"
The other two men leaned forward and peered through the windscreen. "I see it." Whispered the younger man, his cigarette falling from his lips onto the cab floor. Terry gripped the dash and swore; "Fucking shit! do you see her as well!"
All three men watched the figure standing at the dirty window in amazement; "Like something out of an old film." Paddy said softly and Terry agreed; "Like something in an old portrait you see in museums or those big houses open to the public." Paddy crossed himself and kissed the little crucifix that hung around his neck; "I'd heard all the fucking stories about this shit hole, but never thought I'd see they were true." Terry wiped his face with the back of his hand - he was sweating without actually doing anything - The three exchanged concerned glances and made an unanimous decision; get the stuff into the fucking house as quick as possible and get the fuck out of here. They also decided it would be best - for the young couple - if they said nothing about the figure at the window.
All three men lapsed into a shocked silence as the figure disappeared. Paddy crossed himself again - he had not really prayed in some years; but he did now.
The young couple had unlocked the big double doors and were waving for the removal men to start unloading their possessions. Very reluctantly the men left the cab - all still staring at the upstairs window - and began to shift the boxes and items of furniture from their lorry - in almost silence.
Dave and Sally were so engrossed in their happiness and relief that they had escaped the dingy - and expensive - rented house, they didn't really notice the change in the removal men's mood. They were impressed with the speed that the men unloaded the lorry and piled their stuff in the house. They didn't even wait for the customary tips - disappearing down the drive without so much as a 'goodbye'.
Sally found a comfortable big bedroom on the first floor, near a bathroom and working toilet, and made up the bed whilst Dave brewed tea in the small kitchen, that had been built on the same floor. He had found that cold tap worked, but the hot tap just made gurgling noises.They guessed correctly, this little suite of rooms, had been occupied by Dave's great uncle Wesley, when he was alive.
It was Dave that pointed out the four locks on the bedroom door and as he looked about, he noticed the strange patten woven into the old carpet. He studied it for some minutes before realising that it was a pentagon - what was the significance of that he wondered. Sally called him over to the large Gothic fireplace and both stared at the remains of a bird, burnt in the grate with withered flowers scattered about it. She made Dave clear that revolting mess up straight away.
Dave couldn't open the large window; it had been nailed shut and Sally pulled down the strings of rotted garlic from around the frame and they went in the bin - with the dead bird. "He was one strange old fucker." She said quietly as she cleaned the window frame. Then giggling, she jumped on the bed and bounced up and down upon the large four poster bed, until she looked up and saw the bed's canopy; it was Jesus on the Cross.
"Fucking charming; a religious nut as well as fucking strange and reclusive." She said to Dave, who just chuckled and headed back to the kitchen to see if the electricity meter was on and working. The gas certainly was - he had boiled the kettle on the small two ring stove, that it contained.
The electricity only worked in this suite and he put fifty pence in the meter to start with. They sat on stools in the little kitchen and laughed together; the pairs relief, that most of their problems were behind them now was palatable and obvious. For the first time in quite a while; they were actually happy.
Sally finally did mention about the strange behaviour of the removal men and Dave had to agree; he still had the five pound note, he was going to give them as a tip. He pulled the crumpled note from his pocket as proof - Sally slowly eased it from his fingers with a big smile; "Well, I'll take it as a tip for being your hardworking girlfriend." Dave chuckled and nodded his head; "Your worth every penny." He spoke softly and kissed her - again.
Sally released Amy from her cat basket and watched in amazement and surprise, that the little creature ran back into her cage and refused to come out. Even food and treats wouldn't make the cat budge. "She just needs time to settle in; its all new territory to her." Dave smiled and so they left the cage door open with food and water outside. The cat steadfastly remained inside.
They worked for a couple of hours getting the their rooms ready; the major disappointment was the little 'Bush' portable TV wouldn't pick a signal up. Dave sighed; "I can't find a aerial socket, old Wesley couldn't have had a TV - strange that, but the solicitor said he was an odd old man." Sally's wireless radio wouldn't pick up a signal either. But her stereo record player worked alright and so they played Beatles records and a couple of singles by the 'Mama's and Papa's' as night gathered in.
After a supper of tinned vegetable soup and bread, they jumped into bed and celebrated their good fortune with passionate love-making. They were both soon asleep - but not for long.
Sally suddenly sat up and took a deep breath; what was that noise? She reached over to the ornate bedside cabinet and grabbed up her watch. She pressed the little button and the LCD display showed: '00.00'. Sally then realised - with some relief and some annoyance - that the Grandfather clock in the downstairs hall was chiming Midnight. She glanced at Dave; he was still fast asleep. "A bloody bomb going off wouldn't wake you up." She muttered and flopped back on her pillows, pulling up the sheets again. She counted the chimes as they sounded in the quiet house.
For a second time, she sat straight up and breathed quickly and heavily; The bloody old clock had chimed thirteen times!
She also heard other noises coming from down stairs; it sounded like people having a muffled conversation amongst themselves. She shook Dave quite violently and whispered that they had intruders in the house. He woke and pulled his trousers and shoes on, stopping only to pick up a large, heavy black poker from the fireplace. Sally climbed slowly from the bed and wrapped her long padded coat around her naked body.
Sally noticed that the cat basket was empty; but the food and water appeared untouched. She scrambled about in a nearby cardboard box and found a torch. They quietly headed from the bedroom into the upper hall; both filled with a mix of fear and trepidation.
3. 24th JUNE 1974 - SALEM HOUSE - PART 2.
Detective Inspector Roy Calms lit a cigarette and eased his large frame from the small car and headed to the uniform constable standing on the door - looking bored with his arms folded. He stood straight and saluted the Inspector. "Your sergeant is on the first floor with a couple more of your boys Sir." He greeted the Inspector who just nodded. A real queer one this; a young couple move into this old relic and simply disappear, he thought; climbing the grand staircase.
Detective Sergeant Greg Chambers finished his cigarette and tossed the butt into the fireplace. He looked about the room and shook his head, speaking to the Detective Constable who was sorting through an open cardboard box on the floor; "Fisher's watch and wallet are still on the dresser and all his clothes still appear to be here. The bloody girl must have been naked - apart from a padded coat she always wore. Didn't take her purse, watch or shoes either. Bloody strange."
The constable nodded his agreement; "Uniform say that the place was all locked up when they arrived to investigate the missing persons report. They had to break in through a downstairs window, so how the fuck did they get out of the house?" He pulled a large black vibrator from the box and laughed; "Typical tart who danced half naked at that cesspit club and she owns this!" he waved the rubber penis about and switched it on - it didn't work. He laughed again; "She's worn the fucking batteries out and it takes four 'Duracell'."
"She also wasn't adverse, to sleeping with some of the customers, so her colleagues tell us." Inspector Calm's stood in the doorway and pulled his note book out. "The man was reliable as a Swiss watch according to his employers - never missed a shift in three years - then suddenly he doesn't turn up with no word - nothing. Right out of character." They all commented about the girl though; little better than a common prostitute. They really didn't know how such a good bloke got involved with a tart like her.
"She was an undischarged bankrupt, had no bank accounts and couldn't get credit anywhere. She was working at that club for 'cash in hand'. Even the bloody tax man was after her. A right one by the sounds of it." The Inspector added, looking around the room. Sergeant Chambers waved his hand about; "Most of their clothes and personal item are still here, they must have left practically naked and penniless." He pointed to the bedside cabinet and the little black diary laying there.
"That makes good reading Guv, payments from men who fucked her for twenty quid a time." The sergeant picked up the book and handed it to the Inspector. The constable whistled; "Twenty quid a time; she must have been a fucking good shag for that sort of money." The Inspector chuckled and tapped the book; "There are several references to someone called 'Leon'. I wonder if that's our old friend; the pimp and pornographer Leon Devine. I bet we could find a few films with our missing girl starring in them."
Sergeant Chambers folded his arms; "The last people we know, who saw the pair alive, were the three removal men from Baxter's removals. That was on the 17th of this month - no-one has seen them alive since that day. That's where it becomes really interesting; the youngest of the three men; a certain Robert Cornfield has quit his job and moved down south - all on the day he helped move the pair into this dump; and he made sure to leave no forwarding address. Odd co-incidence that."
The Inspector nodded and re-read his notebook; "Interesting threesome we have here; The driver, Patrick 'Paddy' O'Connor has previous for house breaking and some theft - but it was nearly fifteen years ago when he was much younger. His Driver's mate; Terry Jones has previous for sexual assault on young girls. Nothing is known about young Cornfield."
Detective Constable Matchings looked up from the cardboard box and chuckled; "When I spoke to that pair, they looked paler than a ginger birds arse. Claimed they dropped the gear and got the fuck outta the place because they saw a fucking ghost!" Everyone was amused by that. Then Detective Constable Harris stuck his head around the door; "Guv, uniform says your wanted on the radio. The solicitor who dealt with the pair has finally turned up at the nick,"
The Inspector sighed and stared about the small rooms; "The old man who owned the place was found dead - at the foot of the stairs - some three years ago. His death was bloody queer too." the Inspector pushed his notebook away and headed for the door. "How was it queer Guv?" The sergeant asked.
The inspector didn't smile; "No marks upon the body, Doc Roberts believed the old man suffered a massive heart attack and died at the foot of the stairs. A PM confirmed that, but he was found stark naked clutching an old photograph which he had apparently written upon - in crayon- the words 'forgive me'. The picture had been taken about 1880 and showed a very young girl - a child - being abused by some creep. Some straight laced Victorians really did enjoy child porn. We know he wrote the words because a red crayon was found clutched in his other hand; he must have written the words as he died."
The detective stopped searching the cupboard box and looked up; "How old was the old man Guv?" The Inspector grinned; "I know where your heading with that Ken, Wesley Fisher was sixty three years old when he died in 1971 and the photograph was taken in 1879 or 1880 according to the experts who took a look at it. It was shot long before the old man was even born. So why was he asking for forgiveness about something, he couldn't be remotely involved in?"
None of the Detectives present could answer that mystery and so the Inspector shrugged his shoulders and muttered; "Fucking queer all round." The sergeant rubbed his chin; "Shall I pull them removal men in Guv?" The Inspector said no. He wanted them to make voluntary statements for now, but instructed the sergeant to issue a 'Person of Interest Notice' to all forces regarding young Cornfield. The Inspector looked about the room and shrugged his shoulders again; "No signs of burglary, no signs of a fight or any disturbance - except that poker and torch lying on top of the stairs - nothing really to go on."
Sergeant Chambers stared out the window and spoke directly to the Inspector; "We could pull in that dirty black bastard Leon and see what he knows about the tart?" The Inspector approved of that idea; "Yeah, sweat him for a few hours and see what jumps out." The Inspector chuckled and walked straight past the two Temporal Detectives standing in the top hall, both consulting their mirrors - he, of course, could not see or hear them - unless they wanted it so.
"Wesley Fisher's soul was collected and processed; he's now a motor mechanic in Mexico City. Nothing untoward was known about him. But he died in 1982 and in France! So who was the stiff that the police were talking about? " Alex tapped her mirror, adding: "But this house has some real questions about it since it was built in 1767. Some of the previous owners have been devil worshippers, rapists and murders - you name something evil and its happened here over the centuries." Alex lowered her mirror and stared into the rooms where the other, living, detectives still worked.
"Find out who collected the soul of the dead body found here." Jericho rubbed his chin, something was wrong; if Wesley had been collected somewhere else, who the hell was the dead man? Alex nodded; "I'll get Owen onto it, that's right up his street."
"Here's an interesting thought; Wesley Fisher came from a poor working class Sheffield family and had no real education or qualifications. In his early life he worked the steel mills for wages - poor wages - yet in his twilight years he could buy a house like this and have serious money in his bank accounts." Jericho gestured towards the grand staircase; "Some of the portraits, just on the bloody staircase could buy a decent house around here, so where did the money come from?"
Alex admitted she didn't know and pushed the mirror into her jacket pocket and watched the Inspector descending the stairs; "I don't think they have a clue about this place." She said quietly, but Jericho smiled; "Why should they? They're still amongst the living." Both looked up as Wilson and Owen appeared at the top of the attic stairs. Wilson gestured for them to join him. "Guess what we found in the attic." He jerked a thumb behind him and added; "A bloody Jerusalem Mirror."
Jericho rubbed his hands together and smiled; "Now that's more like it. We get the call that two souls have vanished - complete with their flesh suits still on - and there's a bloody Jerusalem mirror in the place." They made their way to the attic room and found the old, full length mirror standing against a dirty wall, next to the window.
"Wonder which time and place it's linked to?" Asked Owen and started to re-read his mirror. Jericho was looking at the back of the mirror with a small torch. "It was made originally in France, at a place called 'la Masion des Tenebres' or that could be the company who manufactured it. The year shown is...." He leaned forward and strained to make out the writing; "In 1646."
"The House of Darkness." Alex sighed; "Charming name, must have had the customers queueing up outside." Owen interrupted everyone and tapped his mirror; "Says here, that one of the owners was a certain Marquis de Sade in 1765, in Paris."
"Now that is one interesting old French pervert - apparently." Wilson chuckled and then something on the floor caught his eye - a simple white rag that was too clean and laundered to have lain on the dusty floor for long. He walked over and picked it up; "A Lace hankie." He muttered and pulled it from his face; "Its being soaked in something very pungent and is still a little overpowering." He offered it to the others. Jericho took a slight sniff and nodded; "Old fashioned knock-out stuff and its still quite fresh."
Jericho spoke to Owen; "Call into control and tell them we're going to use the mirror." Everyone watched as Jericho simply stepped into the 'glass' and disappeared. They all followed without question and the dirty little attic room was empty - again. Well, it wasn't quite empty; Amy the cat crept out from beneath a covered stool and ran towards the mirror and jumped through.
A dark shadow passed across the dirty floor and the man stood by the mirror; he stared down at his pocket watch and sighed - but he could now hear two of the detectives approaching the attic rooms and without hesitation stepped through - so all Detective Ken Lewis and his colleague found was a dirty room stuffed with old furniture. There was dust and cobwebs everywhere and so they concluded that no-one had been in the room for years.
They had a quick look around and then left, closing the door behind them. There was silence in the darkness until a weak white light appeared on the mirrors glass and the sound of footsteps could have been heard from the room - had the detectives stayed a little bit longer. But then; the time was now quite different.
The young woman gathered her dress about herself and listened intently at the door, then slowly approached the large window and peered down into the entrance of 'Salem House'. She saw the couple embracing by the ornate front doors and the removal van sitting on the gravel. She watched as the large black car swept into the drive and some people stepped from the car; they looked like Undertakers.
The woman groaned and cussed. "That old bastard. He always hated me. He must have tipped them off. " She whispered and headed for the mirror again.
4. 16th AUGUST, 1767 - LA MASION DES TENEBRES (PARIS).
The carriage threaded slowly through the crowded streets and Alex waved her silk fan across her face - it didn't do much good in this heat. "I didn't think summer in Paris could be this hot." She muttered to Jericho who was wiping his face with a small hankie. He smiled and adjusted his powdered wig, causing little flakes of white chalk to fly about; "I think Owen has overdone the bloody powder on this thing." Alex managed a smile and eased her bosom beneath her thin cloak; "You only have to worry about chalk dust, this bloody corset has pushed my tits up and out so much, I'm practically topless."
Alex was dressed like a lady of the royal Court of King Louis XV, colloquially known as 'the beloved' and the ladies of his court were well known for their outrageous clothes and loose morals. Wilson, who was driving the ornate carriage leaned back and spoke through the small flap, covered with embroidered cloth, to Alex and Jericho; "I think we're here." Owen, who was standing upon the rear step [and gripping the leather straps with both hands] muttered; "Thank God for that, Wilson couldn't drive a greasy stick up a pig's arse."
The carriage stopped outside and a magnificent strapping African male in a stunning red and gold servants uniform, pulled open the door and bowed. Alex accepted his white gloved hand and stepped from the carriage, Jericho followed straightening his sword and blinking in the hot sunshine. He turned to Wilson; "Titus, wait for thirty minutes only." Wilson nodded - then it was Calvary time.
Owen stepped off the carriage and stretched his legs, he stared up at the black fronted building with little windows and bright red roof. The gold plate upon the wall declared; "'la Maison des Tenebres: Fonde 1689." Someone had scrawled beneath in white chalk: 'cher maison de pute'. Owen grinned at that and joined Wilson by the horses, with the water bucket that hung beneath the carriage. "They can have a drink." He said and patted the grey mare nearest to him.
The pair watched Alex and Jericho disappear into the dark building and the big servant resumed his position on the top of the stairs with no expression upon his face. "That's funny, I would have thought, he would have wanted to chat with a fellow African." Wilson murmured, but Owen smiled; "There are hundreds of African servants in Paris at this time, so he probably gets all the chat he could ever want." They both chuckled at that and Owen gave water to the other grey mare of the carriage's team.
Jericho and Alex were shown into a beautifully furnished sitting room by another resplendent African servant, he bowed and gestured towards two bright red upholstered chairs; "Ma'am and Sir, I will inform Madame Bella that you are here." He walked backwards and left the room. Alex slumped upon the chair and loosened her cloak: "In two hundred years, the contents of this room would fetch an absolute fortune and this is just a bloody brothel."
Jericho nodded and his sharp eyes had already seen the two spyholes set into the wall opposite; disguised as wall decorations of glass. He grunted; "Someone is already watching us, I wonder who that can be?" Alex didn't answer as the door opened and Madame Bella Varden strolled in. A tall, skinny woman in her late thirties, wearing thin white gloves with her long [and obviously expensive] gown. Around her neck was a gold chain; a snake and a circle. Jericho sat upright at the sight of her necklace. Then stood and smiled, he bowed and kissed her out stretched hand.
"Madame Bella, may I present my Mistress; Mademoiselle Alexandra." Alex rose and curtsied, but said nothing. Madame Bella ran her eyes up and down Alex and smiled; "Monsieur Tibbs, your friend is quite a beauty. Such a woman could earn a fortune here - probably in one night." Jericho also smiled; "Quite so, but I have come on a most urgent matter on behalf of an English friend. I seek the whereabouts of his missing mistress and I know the girl would make for such an establishment like that you command." Madame Bella nodded - her face expressionless; "Please sit." She spoke softly and her African servant placed a chair behind her and she sat with some grace.
"My friend, quite foolishly in my opinion, mistreated the girl and she disappeared into the night. We know she made for France and most certainly to here; Paris I mean. There is a substantial reward for her recovery. Quite substantial." Jericho pulled a small picture from his pocket and offered it to Madame Bella; she took it very slowly and said quietly; "How substantial Monsieur Tibbs?" Jericho leaned forward and whispered into her ear - Alex caught the Madame's expression and smiled to herself; that little amount will put the cat amongst the pigeons - no doubt about that.
Madame Bella produced a beautiful blue fan and waved it about her face. "If your friend has that sort of money to throw after a...well, a....a young whore, then he is a fool. I'm sure that even good looking harlots are cheap enough in England." She smiled and handed back the picture; Jericho knew she had recognised the likeness and the alarm in her eyes; which most would have missed, didn't go unnoticed by him or Alex.
Jericho chuckled and held up his hands; "I know Madame Bella, I know, but of all people you will understand the vagaries of the heart. He wants her back; its as simple as that." Madame Bella stared at Alex; "Your young mistress is clearly well trained and obedient. Most girls like her would have endless useless chatter upon their tongues. She says nothing; but observes and hears everything. I am impressed. I would give you ten thousand Franc's right now for her - no questions asked."
Jericho shook his head; "I'm sorry Madame Bella, but it would probably cost me twice that to replace such a gem." Madame Bella smiled at that; "I'm afraid I cannot help you Monsieur Tibbs, I have never seen the girl in the likeness that you have offered. I'm sorry." She rose suddenly from her chair and pulled the rope cord to summon a servant. "Apollo will show you out." The big African appeared and gestured towards the door, bowing a little. "This way please." He said and waited for Jericho and Alex to rise and walk to the door.
Jericho turned to Madame Bella, smiled and bowed; "Please consider the reward; should you receive any information about the girl. I am staying with an old friend of my friend; He's called Louis." Madame Bella chuckled with some contempt in her voice; "Paris is a big city Monsieur, with many a Louis hanging about the place, which damn Louis would that be?"
Jericho hesitated in the doorway and smiled; "I am sorry Madame, my old friend's friend stays at Versailles; that's his home now." He took Alex by the hand and the pair left a clearly shocked Madame Bella, who stumbled across the room and slumped into her chair. She watched the pair go and wiped her face; could this pair be for real? The King would certainly have the kind of money mentioned for the English girl. But an old friend of the King; from England? A name popped into her head; The Duke of Buckingham? She groaned quite loudly and shouted for Apollo to come.
That evening, 'la Masion des Tenebres was packed with customers, but Madame Bella sat quietly in her study, sipping wine and staring at fireplace. Her two gentlemen companions also sat in silence, glasses of brandy in their hands.
Madame's maid servant Maria appeared and informed her mistress that Apollo had returned. Everyone sat up as the big African appeared, bowed and removed his hat. Madame Bella gestured for him to speak. "I followed their carriage and it did indeed travel to Versailles. They entered the Palace through the King's personal entrance and were met by Le Marquis Du Nantes; the King's Private Secretary. I made some discrete inquiries about the pair and it appears that Monsieur Tibbs is some kind of envoy for a very important and powerful Englishman. The recovery of the girl seems to be a matter of personal honour for the King now and as you would expect, he cannot take his eyes off Mademoiselle Alexandra."
Madame Bella turned to the men and sighed; "It appears that Roland has fucked up with this one. He made the mistake; he can clear the mess up." She stood and headed for the door. The two men stood and nodded at each other; Madame was not a woman you cross easily. They placed their glasses down and followed her to the attic's.
Madame Bella stood in the doorway and consulted her little blue notebook; the girl didn't stand her in too much money and that amount had been paid to Roland for her. She stared down at sally; unconscious and totally naked upon the bed with her hands tied behind her back. She called for Madame Clare, who appeared from a room opposite, wiping her hands. The old woman was a little hunched over and had just a few yellow teeth left in her mouth. She grinned; "That one will be ready for work by tomorrow; she's already seen a few big cocks by my reckoning; her fanny's a little loose, but she's pretty enough for most of the bastards we get here. Besides; she does have a fine pair of milk tits which all men like."
Madame Bella nodded and did not smile; "We may have been compromised by her or rather, by Monsieur Roland, and I have sent a message to him to dispose of her without any links to my mansion." Monsieur Henri coughed and started pulling off his jacket; "Well, we may as well get some of our investment back." Monsieur Phillip agreed and started to remove his jacket. Madame Clare chuckled; "She won't come round for a few hours yet." Both men shrugged their shoulders and Monsieur Henri pulled open his lacey shirt; "I don't mind that and I know Phillip enjoys a sleeper." The two Madame's both sighed and closed the door on the two men and Sally.
Madame Clare gripped Bella by the arm and spoke softly; "What about the man?" Madame Bella looked quite surprised by the admission that Roland had also acquired a man with the girl. But Bella had no idea what had happened to him. "Knowing Monsieur Roland I would suspect that he sold him to Monsieur Franklyn." Clare muttered and did grin to herself; Monsieur Franklyn ran the finest Homosexual brothel in Paris and he always needed straight men for his 'dungeon' - which earnt serious money from certain discerning clients.
Madame Bella returned to her customers - deep in thought and instructed Apollo to fetch Monsieur Roland; at once. She collected a glass of brandy and sat in her drawing room alone. But Madame Bella was not alone in the beautiful room and jumped a little, when the large black cat pushed past her feet and disappeared behind a red and gold sofa. She stared at the sofa and wondered where the damn cat came from - they had some in the kitchens for the rats and mice, but none were allowed upstairs. She hated cats.
Something in her memory was saying, that this black cat belonged to Monsieur... She interrupted her thoughts and rose to ring the servants bell and have the damn thing removed and killed, but never reached the bell pull. Madame Bella lay dead upon the floor with a large, gaping blood filled wound to her throat, which had been slit wide open.
The figure left the room un-noticed despite the throngs of customers and girls. The cat followed it into the busy street and then into the plain black carriage that awaited them. It disappeared at speed into the gathering gloom of night.
The man stepped from the shadows opposite the grand doors of 'la Maison des Tenebres' and consulted his Italian pocket watch. With a broad smile, he lifted a hand and his handsome, dark red cab trundled towards him. He jumped in and settled down for the thirty minute ride to Chateau Roi Charles. The big man sitting opposite said nothing and stared out the window - Paris was quite a grand city, but nothing could match the Palace of Versailles, that he was now privileged to attend with his new master. He smiled and adjusted his jacket which concealed both a pistol and dagger. Tomorrow could prove most interesting, he mused.
Apollo returned to the window and admired the countryside passing by.
5. 17th AUGUST 1767 - CHATEAU ROI CHARLES (NEUILLY - SUR - SEINE).
Monsieur Roland watched the large grey crate unloaded from the cart with great care. He pointed towards the doors and told the men to take the grate to the cellar lift. They nodded and disappeared inside. He consulted his fob watch and stared down the driveway; a plain black cab was slowly making its way towards Chateau Roi Charles in the early morning sun.
He turned to Apollo and gestured towards the approaching cab; "By the time he arrives and enters my study, he will be exactly on time." Monsieur Roland chuckled and walked into his Chateau, telling Apollo to show Monsieur Le Chat into his study. He saw Madame Bridget standing by the foot of the main staircase, she bowed slightly, but said nothing. He simply nodded and she disappeared towards the cellar stairs entrance; hidden in a grand stateroom cupboard, that stood in a quiet corner of the hallway.
Monsieur Roland eased himself behind his large ornate desk and stared at the open door. If it had been anyone else, he would have simply had the girl strangled and thrown into the Seine and they could go hang. But it was Monsieur Le Chat. A young maid entered and placed a tray of drinks upon a small table by the window, curtsied and left.
"The story spreading around Paris is that Madam Bella was killed by an aggrieved customer who fled the scene. The local magistrate is only too happy to side with that tale." Monsieur Roland smiled and pulled a drawstring bag from his pocket and added; "One hundred gold pieces - good Spanish gold as you requested." He dropped the bag upon the desk and leaned back in his chair.
He almost jumped in surprise as the big cat leapt upon the desk and sniffed at the bag. He watched in utter amazement as the cat turned to its master and squeaked quietly. Monsieur Le Chat actually smiled; "One hundred Spanish gold pieces as agreed. The Girl?" He scooped the bag up and the cat jumped from the desk.
Monsieur Roland wiped his face; "She only arrived minutes before you. I have Bridget cleaning her up and finding a cloak for her. Madame Clare delivered her in the same manner, that I delivered her to them; quite naked." Monsieur Le Chat nodded; his pale face expressionless. "And the young man?" Roland wiped his face again and really did force a smile; "I have sent a message to Monsieur Franklyn, but have not received a reply yet."
Monsieur Le Chat almost sighed, but dropped the money bag upon the desk. "That's for the young man's return - alive. Call it expenses." He bowed a little and walked to the door, the cat close behind him. He turned and said quietly; "Send Apollo with the message that you have retrieved him." He stood by the door and watched as Apollo carried the girl, bundled in a dark blue cloak down the steps to his carriage.
Roland rose from his chair and watched the strange man and his cat, disappear from view. Madame Bridget stood by the stairs and crossed herself - twice. "If you ever wished to see Mr. Death himself in person, then I have just witnessed it." She said softly and crossed herself - yet again. Roland wiped his sweaty face and couldn't disagree with her sentiments.
He returned to his study and poured himself a large class of brandy. Delivering the girl to Monsieur Le Chat and not to that man Tibbs had cost him dear. But when Monsieur Le Chat asks you for a 'favour' - you side with him every time; if you value being alive!
He sipped his brandy and watched through the window as the black carriage made it way down the drive. "Why the fuck is that little slut so important to so many powerful men?" He whispered, Roland had heard the stories circulating the dark underworld of Paris. Even the King was involved - apparently. He could understand it - if it was that Mademoiselle Alexandra - the English beauty that had turned the King's Mistresses green with envy. Now that was a female worthy of such endeavours - and money.
He slumped back in his chair and drank some more brandy; those idiots had really fucked up this time, when they snatched the girl and her dumb boyfriend. Bloody laziness, they thought it would make their mission easy. He stared at the bag of coins upon the desk and wondered if that damn cat actually knew they were all there? Which they were, of course. You didn't cheat Monsieur Le Chat. If you were stupid enough to do so; you may summon the undertaker at the same time. Roland actually shuddered and finished his brandy.
He would now have a irate Monsieur Franklyn to deal with. Fortunately, he was a shrewd business man and he certainly knew about Monsieur Le Chat's reputation; which should make this a lot easier than it could have been. He gripped his glass and closed his eyes, then they snapped open.
Madame Bridget had appeared in the doorway and curtsied; "That nasty little man of Monsieur Franklyn's has arrived." She walked away and Roland placed down his glass. He hoped that Monsieur Jarden had come with good news - the turnover of young men in Franklyn's dungeon didn't give him much hope for the man. He had been there some weeks and most didn't survive that long.
Monsieur Jarden bowed a little and sat slowly on the chair; he smiled with a mouthful of yellow teeth. "What have you for me?" Roland asked and clasped both hands on the desk. Monsieur Jarden nodded; "The young man David has been removed and placed in the care of the Sisters of Mercy at St. Maria's Convent. He will heal physically, but..." he tapped his head and didn't smile; "But in his head - he may not." he shrugged his shoulders and stared at the bag upon the desk.
Roland leaned back and ran a hand over his face. "Monsieur Le Chat said alive and nothing more. That is all that matters here." He pushed the bag towards Jarden and said quietly; "Give that to your master as payment for the man and as thanks - personally - from me. It's a hundred Spanish Gold pieces." The look on Monsieur Jarden's face spoke volumes. He carefully picked up the bag and pushed it into his coat pocket. "All is well between your master and I?" Roland asked - and smiled a little.
Monsieur Jarden nodded; "My master said that you don't discard a fine watch that has given many years of good service, just because it stops upon occasion. You have it repaired and it continues to serve you well." He rose from the chair and the two men shook hands. Roland noticed with distain, that the little man's hand was cold and clammy - and weak. Monsieur Jarden stopped by the doorway and replaced his hat. "You will inform Monsieur Le Chat about the young man?"
Roland nodded and Jarden turned and left. That went better than expected. He eased back onto his chair and his attention was drawn to the window. He rose and stared into the driveway. Apollo was greeting a fine carriage and Roland's heart sank. It was accompanied by a King's Officer and a troop of six cavalry.
He watched carefully as Mademoiselle Alexandra and Monsieur Tibbs stepped into the morning sunshine. "Putain de merde!" He exclaimed and returned to his chair; clutching another brandy. He then smiled a little; Monsieur Le Chat was now their problem and lifted his glass in a quiet salute - and with some relief. His plan was carefully unfolding and every little piece was coming together.
6. 22nd AUGUST 1767 - THE PALACE OF VERSAILLES - PART 1.
The King eased down upon his gilded chair and groaned a little; his haemorrhoids were playing up again. He adjusted his fine tunic and stared at Monsieur Tibbs with a little mix of wonderment and fear. The man had not aged a single day since the King last saw him some thirty years ago. But then, that was a privilege of being a messenger of God. "Did it go well?" He asked quietly, gripping the arms of his chair.
"We now know, that a certain Monsieur Le Chat has taken possession of the girl and has made arrangements for the recovery of the young man that was taken with her." Jericho bowed a little, standing with hat in hand. The King nodded, but did not smile; "Monsieur Le Chat has a sinister, almost supernatural reputation for evil and total ruthlessness that is unequalled in France. He is a very dangerous man Jericho." The King shifted uneasily on his chair, despite the thick cushion placed upon it.
The audience with the King lasted another ten minutes and Jericho left the King's private apartments, walking quickly back to his rooms. Several couriers stood aside as he passed - a couple crossed themselves. Especially old Franco, the king's body servant. He had recognised Jericho from thirty years before, when he was a Hall boy here. He watched Jericho disappear down the magnificent corridor and crossed himself. No doubt his master would confide in him about the reason for such a creature's visit. Franco, of course, didn't know that only Jericho could have a King as a human agent!
The team assembled in Jericho's apartment and enjoyed the hospitality that Versailles offered. The first thing they all agreed upon was finding out who, exactly, was Monsieur Le Chat. Both the King and Monsieur Roland had told them that he was a very clever and dangerous man. The story about the stupid workman - fitting new doors to Monsieur Le Chat's chateau - had been told by both; the workman disliked cats and was seen kicking Le Chat's cat up its arse. He was found the following day on a quiet Paris street- He had been butchered, there was no other word for it.
"So he's a murdering psychopath, we've dealt with them before." Muttered Owen, who really did like the King's good quality brandy. They had decided, that there must be some connection between Le Chat and the young couple - and Salem House. "We need to check the fucker out with our mirrors; Human Records will be able to identify him." Owen added and refilled everyone's glasses. So the priority was identifying Le Chat and retrieving Sally and Dave from his clutches.
Alex sipped brandy and was reading her mirror with real interest, she looked up and grinned broadly; "Well, we certainly know now who Monsieur Roland really is." She had everyone's attention with that statement. She tapped her mirror; "Monsieur Roland is a certain Sir Malcom Grieves, who's soul is reported missing - he missed his departure date in February 1871. Guess what he use to own and went missing from in 1870?" Wilson smiled; "Salem House." Alex nodded and continued; "I've just checked Dave Fisher's Great-Uncle Wesley and here's a real turn up for the books; his soul is missing and he shouldn't even be dead in 1971 [the year the Police Inspector stated that his body had been found in Salem House] he's scheduled for 1982."
"So who's bloody body was found in 1971?" Owen asked and slumped down on the sofa, clutching his brandy. "Dispatches has no record of a collection on that date or at that place- who ever laid dead at the foot of the stairs wasn't old Great-Uncle Wesley Fisher." Alex said quietly and re-read her mirror.
"Well, either the fucker sold his soul to you-know-who, or he was out of his ordained time." Wilson grunted and relaxed in his chair. Jericho told Owen to check who dealt with the body in 1971; Temporal Detectives would have been called to a body without a soul being found - even if the death was unscheduled. Owen nodded and started to read his mirror. "Holy shit!" He exclaimed and grinned broadly; "The body belonged to a Monsieur Louis Varden who should have died in 1777 in Paris, at the age of 65. He had a string of sexual offences against women and children. He would have been quarantined for some centuries, but obviously, never turned up at his departure date; his soul is officially missing."
"So it appears that Great Uncle Wesley Fisher is still alive and kicking and he has to be around this time and place; the 'Jerusalem Mirror' is locked here." Jericho said and rubbed his chin.
"So it appears that Great Uncle Wesley Fisher is still alive and kicking and he has to be around this time and place; the 'Jerusalem Mirror' is locked here." Jericho said and rubbed his chin.
"There are more time travellers here than you can shake a stick at." Muttered Owen and finished his brandy. Alex sat bolt upright in her chair and clicked her fingers with a broad smile; "Varden was Madame Bella's surname!" Wilson nodded; "That would be stretching co-incidence if the pair are not related." Jericho did the maths in his head; "If Louis should have died in 1777 at the age of 65, he would be 55 at this time and Madam Bella was 31 - either she married an old man or he was her father or Uncle."
Owen re- read his mirror; "The Collector reported that Madame Bella knew her killer - it was Monsieur Le Chat, with his bloody cat. Madame Bella had three husbands; two died and the third simply disappeared; he was called Louis." Wilson smiled; "Well, that solves who he was. Were the other husbands all older than her?" Owen nodded; "The first one was 61 and she was 18. The second husband was 52 when he married her at 24. The third we know about already."
"Clearly she liked a daddy figure." Alex said and relaxed back in her chair.
Jericho actually grinned and nodded his head with some satisfaction. "People, we really need to know who the hell Monsieur Le Chat really is." Everyone agreed with that - but how?
"I have a cunning plan." Was all Jericho said and they gathered around.
Owen re- read his mirror; "The Collector reported that Madame Bella knew her killer - it was Monsieur Le Chat, with his bloody cat. Madame Bella had three husbands; two died and the third simply disappeared; he was called Louis." Wilson smiled; "Well, that solves who he was. Were the other husbands all older than her?" Owen nodded; "The first one was 61 and she was 18. The second husband was 52 when he married her at 24. The third we know about already."
"Clearly she liked a daddy figure." Alex said and relaxed back in her chair.
Jericho actually grinned and nodded his head with some satisfaction. "People, we really need to know who the hell Monsieur Le Chat really is." Everyone agreed with that - but how?
"I have a cunning plan." Was all Jericho said and they gathered around.
Alex was a little annoyed; "Your original plan was fantastic, but trust the dirty old sod of a King to come up with this." She spoke quietly to Jericho and stroked Mr. Parker with one hand, whilst gripping her light summer cloak about her with the other. Jericho just shrugged his shoulders and smiled; "He is the King and if he wants a 'Tit and Pussy show' - then he gets one." Alex just grunted and started to give Mr. Parker a final brush.
Owen stood behind the table and giggled a little, drawing a stern look from Alex. Wilson folded his arms; "Mr. Parker is a Maine Coon cat - an American breed - the largest breed of domestic cat there is. He will certainly be a sensation in this time and place. Very few people in Europe would have seen one in the flesh." Jericho agreed with that and watched as several other woman had arrived with their beloved cats. They were all topless and didn't seem to mind a bit. Owen was certainly enjoying the show - before it even started.
The King would be the judge; with the winning feline receiving a fine silver collar and their owner a night with him. "He's going to be disappointed if Alex wins." Wilson had to grin at Owen's remarks. "Our girl and the damn cat are a winning combination. Pity no-one is taking bets." He said softly, keeping a close eye on the growing crowd in the magnificent Reception Room.
Madame Marie de Rouge [the King's newest - and youngest mistress] bounced over and stared at Mr. Parker, whilst Owen stared at her magnificent bosom, adorned with golden nipple caps in the shape of small swans. "My God! is that really a domestic cat?" She exclaimed and fluttered a silk fan across her face.
Alex grinned and nodded, introducing 'Mr. Parker' to her. The cat bowed and Madame Marie squeaked with joy and ran her hand over his ears. "If he wasn't a bloody cat, I'd swear the bugger was smiling." Wilson said softly to Owen, who wasn't actually looking at the cat because Alex had removed her cloak. He just stared and groaned a little. Now that did make Wilson smile. "Steady lad, just remember that we're here to do a job."
"Their like a blind cobblers thumbs!" Owen muttered and managed to look away. Alex had gold and silver snakes wrapped around her ample breasts and silver rings on each nipple; the circle and the snake - emblems of the Dark Prince's followers. "That will set the cat amongst the pigeons - if you pardon the pun - and will certainly attract our dark friend's followers here." Jericho spoke softly, his eyes darting about the crowd. Then a loud mouthed servant banged a gold cane upon the floor and announced the arrival of the King.
The King sauntered in with some grace; well. as much as his haemorrhoids allowed him. He made straight for Madam de Rouge, who presented her cat - 'Duveteuse' - to him. He smiled and patted her arm, then saw Alex and Mr. Parker; the smile turned into a broad grin. "You have a wonderful big pussy Mademoiselle Alexandra.... and they are simply magnificent." He gestured to her exposed breasts. "Snakes and circles - very interesting." He added and actually rubbed his hands together!
Alex curtsied and smiled; "Thank you your Majesty. He is such a lovely big cat." The King nodded and the Lord Chamberlain had to remind him twice, that there were several others cats to judge. Quite reluctantly, the King had to move on. Owen tapped Jericho's arm and said quietly; "Look who's turned up."
Standing in the doorway was Monsieur Le Chat and his cat. The conversation in the room slowly died away as people saw who had arrived. The King waved him over and greeted him with some warmth. He introduced the 'English' visitors to Monsieur Le Chat; whilst the two big cats eyed each other up in a very unfriendly manner. Alex had to pat Mr. Parker twice and tell him to behave himself - he didn't listen.
The team sat in Jericho's room - in silence - for a few minutes, then Alex, now suitably covered up - shook her head; "You can't imprison a bloody cat in the Bastille!" Everyone nodded at that and Owen couldn't help himself, he chuckled; "Mr. Parker is probably now famous. The first cat thrown into the Bastille for assaulting the King!" Even Jericho had to smile at that, he turned to Wilson; "What have we got?"
"Actually, no real surprise; Monsieur Le Chat is Great Uncle Wesley Fisher." He lowered his mirror and added; "There is now a real connection with Madame Bella; her old husband was found dead in Salem House and his nephew was taken from there - with his girlfriend. Something must have gone wrong with his little arrangement of jumping between here and there."
Jericho nodded; "He must have lost the ability to jump forward to Salem House and could no longer access the power of the Jerusalem Mirror. but someone else did and snatched his great nephew and the girl." Owen jumped up from his chair and headed for the tray of drinks on a nearby ornate table.
He started to fill glasses, then stopped; "So where does that Monsieur Roland fit in all this?" Alex folded her arms; "Never mind that; how the hell do we get the King to release poor Mr. Parker?" Jericho sighed; "I'll leave that to you Alexandra. I'm sure your charm can easily persuade him to set free our troublesome and feisty colleague." Then smiled broadly; the King was not happy having his elaborate wig knocked off, by the big cat trying to get at Monsieur Le Chat's furry friend.
There had been total confusion and disorder in the Ballroom as the two big cats decided to fight it out - Mr. Parker won and Monsieur Le Chat's cat fled in ignominious defeat - followed by its owner. But the king wasn't impressed and ordered Mr. Parker to the Bastille! Once he had his wig straight. Apparently his new mistress - Madame de Rouge - won by default. At least the King would be happy with that result.
Jericho finished his drink and gestured towards the door; "While Alexandra gets the King to release our furry friend, we're heading for Monsieur Le Chat's chateau and have words about his nephew and the girl. He of all people, must realise the importance of returning the pair to their own time." Alex sighed; "Time to play the bloody tart again." Wilson chuckled at that; "Yes, but you do it so well; it almost comes naturally." The look Alex gave the big man could have frozen peas - without the need for a freezer.
He started to fill glasses, then stopped; "So where does that Monsieur Roland fit in all this?" Alex folded her arms; "Never mind that; how the hell do we get the King to release poor Mr. Parker?" Jericho sighed; "I'll leave that to you Alexandra. I'm sure your charm can easily persuade him to set free our troublesome and feisty colleague." Then smiled broadly; the King was not happy having his elaborate wig knocked off, by the big cat trying to get at Monsieur Le Chat's furry friend.
There had been total confusion and disorder in the Ballroom as the two big cats decided to fight it out - Mr. Parker won and Monsieur Le Chat's cat fled in ignominious defeat - followed by its owner. But the king wasn't impressed and ordered Mr. Parker to the Bastille! Once he had his wig straight. Apparently his new mistress - Madame de Rouge - won by default. At least the King would be happy with that result.
Jericho finished his drink and gestured towards the door; "While Alexandra gets the King to release our furry friend, we're heading for Monsieur Le Chat's chateau and have words about his nephew and the girl. He of all people, must realise the importance of returning the pair to their own time." Alex sighed; "Time to play the bloody tart again." Wilson chuckled at that; "Yes, but you do it so well; it almost comes naturally." The look Alex gave the big man could have frozen peas - without the need for a freezer.
8. STILL THE 24th AUGUST 1767 - MONSINEUR LE CHAT'S CHATEAU.
Night was falling as the carriage waited in the stone gateway and everyone stared at the house. "Jesus, you could make a horror film here." Wilson lowered the reins and spoke through the small flap to Jericho, who was also staring at the house. Owen had to agree with the big man; "I'm waiting for Dracula or Frankenstein to open the bloody door." Wilson slapped the reins and the carriage rolled down the gravel driveway and stopped outside the dark entrance. They waited for a few minutes, but no servant appeared and the doors remained closed to 'La Maison de le Nuit'.
Jericho jumped from the carriage and strode up to the big black doors and banged upon them with the hilt of his sword. Wilson and Owen joined him after securing the horses, to the metal railings that formed part of the house's wall. There was no reply from inside. Jericho shouted several times in French, but again - there was no answer and the doors remained shut. That's when Owen pushed at the left door and it crept open. Everyone looked at each other and Jericho again shouted their arrival. Still no answer.
They stood in the grand hallway enveloped in an eerie silence. "The place should be crawling with servants." Muttered Wilson and pulled out his mirror; "Sweet Jesus, there are no living humans recorded here." He added and lowered his mirror. Owen peered through a couple of open doors and rubbed his chin; "Do you know, that this place looks like it hasn't had residents for years." There was dust and cobwebs everywhere and some of the furniture looked like it was starting to rot. The air was stale and heavy. "Nice place for a holiday." Wilson said softly and consulted his mirror again.
"La Maison de le Nuit was abandoned by its owners in 1731 after a major fire destroyed the rear of the building. All that remained was the exterior facade and some rooms at the front of the house. It was finally demolished in 1810 and a small villa and vineyard replaced it." Wilson said and Owen gripped his mirror and turned to his companions; "Maybe old Le Chat only uses it for a mail drop?"
"Or Monsieur Roland has fed us a load of bollocks about where Le Chat resides." Jericho said, a little annoyed with himself at taking what Roland said, at face value. "Why drag us out here?" Wilson asked and then grabbed up his mirror; "We have visitors." The team could see four humans approaching the house from the overgrown forest - two had muskets and two had pistols and swords.
"I don't think their here to give us a warm French welcome." Muttered Owen and the team moved from the hall into an adjoining room. Wilson and Owen managed to close the door firmly and they stood in semi-darkness, in what was probably, the music room - it contained a derelict pianofortes and a large, string less harp. But it was the beautiful stone fireplace that caught Owen's attention.
"I think we should go into the fireplace." He said and held up his mirror, adding; "There's a time portal there, linked to this very place, but in the year 1980." They could hear raised, unfriendly voices in the hallway and so, the team disappeared into the fireplace.
They found themselves in the utility room cupboard, which was locked. But it didn't take Wilson long to sort that problem. "You were wasted as a cop." Owen muttered as they peered from the little room's door. "We're in the villa that replaced the old chateau, suitably modernised I expect." He added and they walked through the deserted kitchen. They saw Monsieur Le Chat's cat sitting in the doorway of a room off the hallway. It didn't move, but squeaked loudly a couple of times. They walked past and saw Le Chat standing by the wood burning stove. He actually smiled.
"I knew you would get away from Malcom's men [Roland's men] and find the portal. Welcome Jericho, please have a seat gentlemen." His Yorkshire accent was quite noticeable. Jericho dropped on the sofa with Wilson, but Owen stood by the door; clutching his mirror. Jericho got straight to the point.
"You know we must take them back." He said simply and folded his arms, the matter was not up for negotiation. Le Chat nodded; "I know you must. My great nephew is in a bad way. I fear he has lost his sanity for good. But you can return him to 1974 and none of this would have taken place." Le Chat looked and sounded quite grim. He walked to the large window and stared out at the gardens. "The whore can remain back there. That time suits her talents quite well and David will be well rid of her." He sighed and opened the glass drinks cabinet.
"I'm afraid the girl must also return, we must not lose her soul in a time that's not been allocated to her. You know that." Jericho said, but Le Chat just chuckled; "She's outsmarted everyone Jericho. No sooner did I rescue her from Madame Bella and Roland's clutches, than she betrayed me to Monsieur Roland and escaped with him back to Salem House. They will alter your precious Time-line, probably as we are speaking now." He offered brandy all round and downed his own glass in a few sips.
"So Roland has the Jerusalem Mirror now?" Wilson asked, accepting a glass from Le Chat, who smiled; "Sir Malcom Grieves always had the mirror and in reality, always owned Salem House. I was just a lodger, like Monsieur Varden. That filthy bastard liked little girls, had he stayed with his wife back in France, his crimes would have gained the notice of the King and he would have been hung. But Sir Malcom protected him because of the business connections with his wife Bella. He was exiled to Salem House in Victorian times and continued his vile practises. He even took up photography to keep his new victims fresh in his mind. I hope no-one ever digs up the woodlands near the house."
"How do they intend to alter the time-line?" Wilson asked. Le Chat sighed; "They will return to the day that Dave and the slut moved into Salem House, Sir Malcom will pretend to be me and the slut, will act as his new wife. They have carefully crafted a story that they have been abroad. That idiot solicitor believes Sir Malcom IS me, since he has only dealt with Sir Malcom AS me." He poured himself another glass and stared back out the window. "You know that those imbecilic police men never asked the solicitor to identify the body found at the foot of the stairs [Varden] and so it was obviously me."
"What no-one foresaw, was that Varden would have a massive heart attack and die, clutching a photograph of him abusing another little victim back in the 1880's. Not one of those stupid police officers realised that the man dead on the floor was the same bastard in the picture!" Le Chat almost spate the words out.
"So, they intend to reclaim Salem House and Dave, with the other Sally would return to their previous lives - in debt and unhappy?" Owen said quietly, then smiled; "But surely, if the pair [Dave and Sally] were never to have Salem House and the money, then that IS the original time-line?" Jericho nodded at that deduction.
Le Chat slumped in a chair and smiled; "I understand that's it a prime directive of Temporal detectives to prevent two versions of the same person to inhabit the same time line?" Jericho did not smile; "That's quite true, can I ask how you come to know so much about Temporal Detective duties?" Le Chat softly laughed; "Wouldn't you like to know. But more importantly, you need to return one of the versions of the whore back to 1767." Wilson grunted; "You seem to have forgotten, that if we return the pair to 1974, then nothing would have happened and so - like Owen said - the time line would be back to its original state." He placed his glass down and did smile.
"That's true; but what will stop Sir Malcom [Roland] from doing everything again?" Le Chat finished his brandy and fumbled in his pockets. He pulled a faded newspaper cutting from his pocket and unfolded it. He handed the paper to Jericho, who read it with some interest and pushed it into his pocket. "Let's go." Was all Jericho said.
9. 17th JUNE 1974 - SALEM HOUSE - PART 3.
The big black car sat in the layby and Wilson relaxed in the drivers seat. He turned to Alex and smiled; "You haven't said, how you got old Mr. Parker out of the Bastille?" Alex shrugged her shoulders; "I can't claim that I did. It was Madame Le Rouge we have to thank for that." Owen lowered his mirror; "Madame Le Rouge had Mr. Parker freed?" Alex nodded; "She pleaded with the King that she would be really upset if her 'friend' didn't have her beloved pussy returned and the King agreed - didn't want to upset his new, young mistress I expect." Everyone turned to Jericho, who could be heard to chuckle at that comment. "Tut tut Alexandra." Was all he said.
Jericho grinned and stared down the road; "Yes, I'm sure that is how it happened." Everyone exchanged glances at that. Alex folded her arms; "What do you mean by that?" Jericho didn't answer, but tapped Wilson's arm. The removal van was heading towards them and Salem House. They watched as the van passed by, followed by the old Vauxhall Viva containing Dave and Sally.
Jericho grinned and stared down the road; "Yes, I'm sure that is how it happened." Everyone exchanged glances at that. Alex folded her arms; "What do you mean by that?" Jericho didn't answer, but tapped Wilson's arm. The removal van was heading towards them and Salem House. They watched as the van passed by, followed by the old Vauxhall Viva containing Dave and Sally.
Wilson started the car and pulled out, staying well behind the little convoy. Jericho glanced over his shoulder a couple of times; "Owen, give 'Jumbo' a buzz and see how far behind us he is - thanks." Owen checked his mirror and muttered; "The Scottish nutter should come into view about now." Wilson looked in the mirror and saw the van pull in behind them. Alex gave a little wave to Patricia (little Pat) Sabaskinski, the driver, who waved back. "Thank fuck Pat is driving; Jumbo couldn't drive a greasy stick...." Alex gave Owen a gentle slap; "Yes, that's enough. Thank you, we get the point."
Wilson slowed down and waited at the gates; everyone could see the young couple embracing in the driveway. "Do you see her at the attic window?" Wilson said quietly and everyone peered at the old house. "Yes, she's there alright." Owen lowered his mirror and placed it back into his pocket whilst Alex adjusted his tie. "Court appointed officers are always neat and tidy. That's why we all look like bloody undertakers." She grinned as the car and van pulled up behind the removal van. Jericho eased himself out and walked over to Dave and Sally, who stared, with a little fear and apprehension, at the team emerging from the car.
Paddy the removal van driver sighed; "I don't think anyone is moving today and our bloody company will have to wait for its fucking money." They watched as the 'Sherriff's Officer' pushed the Court Order into Dave's hand and took possession of Salem House. Dave got a little angry and was shouting that the debts were all Sally's and his property couldn't be touched. Then he calmed down a little when Wilson walked up. Jericho patiently explained that, if the house was his 'sole' property, why did both he and Sally sign for the house?
Dave hung his head; that bloody Solicitor had told him not to give away part of the house to Sally. But Dave hadn't really listened - he cursed himself and threw down the paper and walked back to his old car and slumped across the wheel. Sally said nothing and walked over the Vauxhall and slowly eased in. Jericho gestured to Wilson and Owen, who entered the house and made for the attic rooms. Alex walked over and tapped on Dave's driver window; he slowly wound it down. She explained that the house would be sold at auction and the proceeds used to pay off Sally's debts, which were now quite considerable because of the amount of interest accrued over the last couple of years. Dave simply stuck up two fingers and drove away.
The removal van followed the disappointed couple down the drive and everyone turned to the old house as Wilson and Owen appeared with the Jerusalem Mirror, covered with some old bed sheets. "Get it in the van, then we'll search the house thoroughly for anything else that may interest us." Jericho smiled and the two teams disappeared into Salem House.
"If th' glaikit bugger hadn't added her bloody name tae th' deed, thay wid hae bben in th' clear." Jumbo spoke to Alex as they searched the ground floor rooms. She nodded and checked her mirror, for any other nasty little time portals. After a couple of hours, the search was complete and everyone returned to the vehicles.
The team watched as the white van, with Jumbo, Patricia and the Jerusalem Mirror disappeared. Owen passed his hip-flask around; "What did that old piece of paper say?" He asked Jericho, who smiled and pulled the newspaper cutting from his pocket. Owen took it and began to read; " A notable Yorkshire property; Salem House, was today sold at auction for nearly twenty-two thousand pounds by order of the Court. The proceeds' of the sale will clear the previous part-owners debts and stop any further debt order proceedings against her. The new owner is a prominent Yorkshire businessman who plans to renovate the house and turn it into a luxury country hotel." Owen finished and asked Jericho; "Who bought the old place then?"
Jericho chuckled; "A certain Patrick Well's, through a third party property company that he owns. That Solicitor wasn't really that dumb after all." Alex sighed; "No wonder he didn't object too strongly to Dave putting Sally on the deeds - the sneaky bugger." Jericho accepted the hip-flask and gestured towards the house; "It certainly suited our mission - it enabled us to close the portal, return two souls to their correct time and stop a couple of determined time travellers from carrying on their unsavoury occupations. Sir Malcom [Roland] is now trapped in 1767 with no chance to go anywhere or continue his evil trade in human flesh."
"What about Le Chat?" Owen asked and Jericho sighed, but had to smile; "He lives in comfort in 1980 with his bloody cat and can still pop back to 1767 - so he thinks." Wilson rubbed his face and really did grin; "I take it that his little time portal in the cupboard is now closed?" Jericho nodded; "I closed it up before we left. He'll be surprised by that." Owen still looked puzzled; "Why did he tip us off about the sale, that wasn't in his best interests was it?"
Wilson chuckled; "No it wasn't, but since Jericho insisted we take the girl back - with his great nephew - that was the only way he could stop her benefiting from being with Dave. He must really hate her, but I suspect that he knew Dave would stand by her, but she wouldn't get any of the money this way. I think he's wrong about that too, since her debts are now paid off."
Owen nodded, then turned again to Jericho; "What did you mean, when you said to Alex; 'Yes, I'm sure that is how it happened' earlier?" Jericho chuckled; "Over to you Alexandra. Honesty is always the best policy." Alex pushed back in her seat and folded her arms - she didn't look happy. "Alright, bloody alright. To get Mr. Parker back....I had to...I had to wash the old buggers feet. There, now you know." Wilson looked astounded; "Wash his feet! I mean just wash his feet?" Owen scratched his head; "I know the old King is a strange bugger, but wash his feet?"
"Tut Tut Alexandra, half the truth is no truth really." Jericho said and grinned broadly. Alex sighed and threw up her hands in mock despair; "Alright, alright, the truth is, I had to wash his feet whilst stark naked. There, now are you satisfied?" Jericho gave Alex a knowing look and she finally added; "Alright, stark naked except a 'Davey Crockett' hat and red riding boots. That's all I did and the old pervert pardoned the damn cat!"
There was silence for a few seconds and everyone started to laugh - including Alex. Jericho said quietly; "Honesty is always the best policy - sometimes."
"If th' glaikit bugger hadn't added her bloody name tae th' deed, thay wid hae bben in th' clear." Jumbo spoke to Alex as they searched the ground floor rooms. She nodded and checked her mirror, for any other nasty little time portals. After a couple of hours, the search was complete and everyone returned to the vehicles.
The team watched as the white van, with Jumbo, Patricia and the Jerusalem Mirror disappeared. Owen passed his hip-flask around; "What did that old piece of paper say?" He asked Jericho, who smiled and pulled the newspaper cutting from his pocket. Owen took it and began to read; " A notable Yorkshire property; Salem House, was today sold at auction for nearly twenty-two thousand pounds by order of the Court. The proceeds' of the sale will clear the previous part-owners debts and stop any further debt order proceedings against her. The new owner is a prominent Yorkshire businessman who plans to renovate the house and turn it into a luxury country hotel." Owen finished and asked Jericho; "Who bought the old place then?"
Jericho chuckled; "A certain Patrick Well's, through a third party property company that he owns. That Solicitor wasn't really that dumb after all." Alex sighed; "No wonder he didn't object too strongly to Dave putting Sally on the deeds - the sneaky bugger." Jericho accepted the hip-flask and gestured towards the house; "It certainly suited our mission - it enabled us to close the portal, return two souls to their correct time and stop a couple of determined time travellers from carrying on their unsavoury occupations. Sir Malcom [Roland] is now trapped in 1767 with no chance to go anywhere or continue his evil trade in human flesh."
"What about Le Chat?" Owen asked and Jericho sighed, but had to smile; "He lives in comfort in 1980 with his bloody cat and can still pop back to 1767 - so he thinks." Wilson rubbed his face and really did grin; "I take it that his little time portal in the cupboard is now closed?" Jericho nodded; "I closed it up before we left. He'll be surprised by that." Owen still looked puzzled; "Why did he tip us off about the sale, that wasn't in his best interests was it?"
Wilson chuckled; "No it wasn't, but since Jericho insisted we take the girl back - with his great nephew - that was the only way he could stop her benefiting from being with Dave. He must really hate her, but I suspect that he knew Dave would stand by her, but she wouldn't get any of the money this way. I think he's wrong about that too, since her debts are now paid off."
Jericho smiled; "The bonus is that Great Uncle Wesley is trapped in 1980, now his time portal is closed and since he was due to be dispatched [die] in 1982, he's in his own allocated time period and his soul can be collected."
Owen nodded, then turned again to Jericho; "What did you mean, when you said to Alex; 'Yes, I'm sure that is how it happened' earlier?" Jericho chuckled; "Over to you Alexandra. Honesty is always the best policy." Alex pushed back in her seat and folded her arms - she didn't look happy. "Alright, bloody alright. To get Mr. Parker back....I had to...I had to wash the old buggers feet. There, now you know." Wilson looked astounded; "Wash his feet! I mean just wash his feet?" Owen scratched his head; "I know the old King is a strange bugger, but wash his feet?"
"Tut Tut Alexandra, half the truth is no truth really." Jericho said and grinned broadly. Alex sighed and threw up her hands in mock despair; "Alright, alright, the truth is, I had to wash his feet whilst stark naked. There, now are you satisfied?" Jericho gave Alex a knowing look and she finally added; "Alright, stark naked except a 'Davey Crockett' hat and red riding boots. That's all I did and the old pervert pardoned the damn cat!"
There was silence for a few seconds and everyone started to laugh - including Alex. Jericho said quietly; "Honesty is always the best policy - sometimes."
"Team 74 managed to recover the two lost souls, prevent an evil flesh peddling time traveller from continuing to operate and closed a very dangerous time portal. The mission was judged a success by Angel Margret; and so it was!"
W.A.S.
CHARACTERS:
Miss Sally Irving [Nee Jackson]. Now that all her debts were paid off by the sale of Salem House, Sally left Dave in 1975 and married a John Irving. She remained married to him for some years and had three children. Her husband had to clear her debts a couple of times during their marriage. Finally, she left him in 1992 and moved to Spain and lived with a beach artist until her sudden death in 1997. Her soul was collected and processed.
David Edward Fisher was devastated when Sally left him in 1975 for another man. For some years, he was a drunk and lived on the streets. He died in 1979 and his body wasn't found for some months - he was sheltering in a derelict house in Sheffield - he couldn't be identified and was buried in an unmarked grave. His soul was collected and processed.
Patrick Wells [The Solicitor] became a very prominent lawyer and wealthy businessman in Yorkshire. He lived a life of luxury between his properties in the USA, Spain and England. He died in 2015, whilst on holiday in Jamaica and his soul was collected and processed.
Robert Cornfield [Removal man] continued to work for 'Baxter Removals' until he finished night college classes and obtained a position in prominent firm of solicitors - Well's & Cooper in Yorkshire - as a legal Clark. Unfortunately, he was killed in a motorcycle accident in 1983. His soul was collected and processed.
Terry Jones [Removal man] was convicted of further sexual assaults on young girls in 1978 and sent to prison. He was released in 1994 and worked as a 'Road sweeper' for some years. He died in 1999 of a massive stroke and his soul was collected and processed.
Patrick 'Paddy' O'Connor [Driver & Removal man] was sacked from 'Baxter's Removals' in 1976 for theft of customers property, which he denied. He made his living driving a bread delivery van for some years. But is remembered for a couple of books on the supernatural, that were quite good, but didn't sell well. He died in 2034 at an old peoples home in Doncaster. His soul was collected and processed.
Sir Malcom Grieves [Monsieur Roland] remained trapped in 18th century France, despite trying to find other time portals. He fell into debt and lost his Chateau and servants. He worked as a rat catcher for some years in Paris. His body was found floating in the Seine on Christmas Eve 1775. No soul was collected and it remains missing to this day.
Wesley Fisher [Monsieur Le Chat] lived out his life in modern France and died in 1982 - as scheduled - his soul was collected and processed; it was quarantined until 2250. His faithful cat died within days of his passing.
Madame Bella Varden [la Maison des Tenebres:] who was murdered by Monsieur Le Chat in 1767, had her soul collected and processed. It was quarantined until 2180.
Monsieur Louis Varden, who died in Salem House in the year 1971, was out of his own time period and no soul was collected. It remains missing to this day.
Detective Inspector Roy Calms [Yorkshire Police] was indicted for corruption in 1984. He was found guilty on several charges and was dismissed from the police service and served four years in Doncaster Prison. He lost his Police pension and struggled to make a living after his release in 1988. He died a broken man in 1991. His soul was collected and processed.
Detective Sergeant Greg Chambers [Yorkshire Police] was tragically killed in a car crash in September 1976. He had no family. his soul was collected and processed.
Leon Casswell Devine [the pornographer] business flourished during the 1980's and he became a great supporter of Prime Minister Margaret Thatcher and legitimised his business. He became very wealthy and successful. He married four times and had six children in all. In 1995, he retired to Jamaica and lived a comfortable life until his death in 2005. His soul was collected and processed.
Apollo - Kama Fanyakka [la Maison des Tenebres] was brutally murdered by a gang in a Paris tavern in 1769. In modern times it would have been described as a 'Hate Crime'. Several patrons of that particular hostelry, objected vehemently to Apollo having two white girls with him. He was just unlucky in his choice of drinking establishment. His soul was collected and processed.
Madame Clare Gassmoune [la Maison des Tenebres] died in 1771 of Typhoid and was buried in a mass grave outside the city. Her soul was collected and processed. It was quarantined until 1950.
Madame Bridget Dupont [Monsieur Roland's House-Keeper] found herself unemployed and living on the streets after the fall of Monsieur Roland. She worked as a cheap prostitute for a couple of years and was found dead on a quiet Paris Street in 1774. Her soul was collected and possessed.
Monsieur Henri Jarden [Monsieur Franklyn's messenger] died in his bed of Influenza in 1772. He had no family and his body was buried in an unmarked grave. His boss, the mysterious Monsieur Franklyn gave him no assistance. His soul was collected and processed - it was quarantined until 2050.
Madame Marie de Rouge [The Kings Mistress] remained the King's Mistress until 1772. After her dismissal from Royal 'Service', she returned to her husband in Normandy and lived out the remainder of her life quietly in the country. Marie and her family did not survive the revolution that swept France in 1789 - they were imprisoned and eventually guillotined in 1790. Her soul was collected and processed.
Franco Cassinni [The Kings Personal Servant] served the King until his death in 1772 from smallpox. His soul was collected and processed.
Monsieur Franklyn -?, this mysterious character was never really identified. He remains unknown to human history. He was never seen or spoken to by temporal detectives. There were several characters who could have fitted his description living at the time. It is believed that the Duty Death Angel [Francis, at the time] knew who he was and dealt with him accordingly. We're not privy, to what the Angel's decisions were about Monsieur Franklyn - sorry!
Amy the cat is believed to have lived out her life in France in 1767, after following Dave and Sally through the 'Jerusalem Mirror'. Her eventual fate is unknown.
SPECIAL APPEARANCE BY King Louis XV of France, as himself.
The King died in 1774 and his soul was collected and processed.
He was succeeded by his Grandson; the ill-fated King Louis XVI who was overthrown during the French revolution and guillotined in 1792. That ended a French Monarchy which had existed for over a thousand years.
The FIRST French republic was declared on 21st September 1792 and paved the way for a certain Napoleon Bonaparte to eventually become Emperor of the French in 1804 - the rest is history!
IMPORTANT NOTE: "Jericho would like to point out that no animals were injured in this episode - well, except the two bloody big cats, who beat the crap out of each other!"
SPECIAL APPEARANCE BY King Louis XV of France, as himself.
| Louis XV | |||||
|---|---|---|---|---|---|
Portrait by Maurice-Quentin de La Tour, 1748
| |||||
| King of France | |||||
| Reign | 1 September 1715 – 10 May 1774 | ||||
| Coronation | 25 October 1722 Reims Cathedral | ||||
| Predecessor | Louis XIV | ||||
| Successor | Louis XVI | ||||
| Regent | Philippe d'Orléans (1715–23) | ||||
| Born | 15 February 1710 Palace of Versailles, France | ||||
| Died | 10 May 1774 (aged 64) Palace of Versailles, France | ||||
| Burial |
Royal Basilica, Saint Denis, France
| ||||
| Spouse |
Marie Leszczyńska
(m. 1725; d. 1768) | ||||
| Issue among others... | |||||
| |||||
| House | Bourbon | ||||
| Father | Louis, Duke of Burgundy | ||||
| Mother | Marie Adélaïde of Savoy | ||||
| Religion | Roman Catholicism | ||||
| Signature |  | ||||
He was succeeded by his Grandson; the ill-fated King Louis XVI who was overthrown during the French revolution and guillotined in 1792. That ended a French Monarchy which had existed for over a thousand years.
The FIRST French republic was declared on 21st September 1792 and paved the way for a certain Napoleon Bonaparte to eventually become Emperor of the French in 1804 - the rest is history!
IMPORTANT NOTE: "Jericho would like to point out that no animals were injured in this episode - well, except the two bloody big cats, who beat the crap out of each other!"
W.A.S.
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| "William Alexander Stephens." |
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