PART 5. (Yes, you really do need to start at the beginning...)

 

The final, and most serious issue that has come under scrutiny in the wake of the McDonald shooting, is the so-called Code of Silence among rank and file officers. This is a problem that's not unique to police officers.

 

If you are a member of any group, you will be inclined to view the actions of any member of that group in a more favorable light than you'd view identical behavior by someone who belongs to a different group. It's human nature.

 

The lack of cooperation police get from the African American community when investigating gang violence, is a very similar Code of Silence. Violating that particular code by cooperating with a police investigation can indeed have serious repercussions. In fact, it can get you killed.

 

Of the 468 homicide victims in 2015, eight were justifiable homicides by CPD officers. The other 460 were civilians killed by other civilians, and in most of those homicides, both victim and offender were African American.

 

The anti-police movement does not want to focus on the 460, they only want to focus on African Americans who were shot and killed by White Police Officers. They also don't want to focus on the Code of Silence within the African American community, allowing the vast majority of those homicides to go unsolved, and allowing those murderers to kill again and again.

 

The anti-police movement and its partners in the media simply blame police for not solving more homicides, because they "do not have the trust of the community..."

 

Nevertheless, while recognizing that the Code of Silence is inevitable to some degree, officers of all ranks must be encouraged to do the right thing at all times, and any officers who significantly misrepresented what they had seen during the Laquan McDonald shooting - in order to shield a fellow officer from the full weight of the law - will need to be disciplined. It's too bad, because these are the officers who had done everything right prior to the arrival of Jason Van Dyke, and now they may face serious disciplinary action because their statements don't jive with the video.

 

In my view, as a former insider who now watches events unfold on television and the internet, the real problem is considerably higher up on the departmental ladder.

 

Every now and then, the Department throws the book at an officer for some infraction or another, and we get the usual stump-speech about "rotten apples" and the need to save the rest of the barrel.

 

I'd like to know what happened as the Laquan McDonald video made its way up the chain of command. Our new interim Superintendent has stated publicly that he saw the video within 48 hours of the shooting, in his capacity as head of the Detective division. And what did he do after seeing that video? Apparently nothing of consequence.

 

You'd think that one of the grown-ups would have rounded up the officers who had given such blatantly contradictory statements about the McDonald shooting, and said "Hey guys, nice try, but this shit ain't gonna fly. Now tell us what really happened." Apparently no one did.

 

If there is such a thing as a watch-dog within the Department, it is Internal Affairs. It is their job to ferret out those proverbial rotten apples and take appropriate action. Yet, according to the media, the head of Internal Affairs responded to the video by emailing other departments of city government to keep an eye out for any freedom-of-information requests for the Laquan McDonald video, and to let him know right away...

 

Things like that tell me that the real problem was not the statements of a handful of patrolmen. The problem was that someone high up in city government made the decision that justice should be obstructed, or at least delayed, in order to hold on to their own job and save their own reputation.

 

If no one ever got their hands on the video, then no harm would have come to any city employees. On the other hand, if the video were to get out and ignite a firestorm, then any patrolmen who might have perjured themselves would make for convenient scapegoats. They could then be disciplined or prosecuted to appease the public and the media.

 

Whatever will happen to the individuals involved - from Jason Van Dyke up to the Mayor - may take years to play out. I am more concerned about the Department, the law enforcement profession, and the future of Chicago as a world-class city. The demonstrations by the anti-police movement continue - although on a much smaller scale - and the "Only Black Lives Matter" movement continues to spout its nonsense, while violent criminals all over Chicago are emboldened by what they perceive to be a "neutered" Chicago Police Department.

 

Homicide figures for January of 2016, are nearly double last year's figures, and illegal gun seizures are down because of "reforms" that have been imposed on rank and file officers.

 

Now the media, which has profited by hyping the "White cops vs. African Americans" storyline, is wagging its collective finger once again, this time accusing police officers of sabotaging the city's revised crime-fighting methodology.

 

Apparently, no one in the media is aware of the new Investigative Stop Reporting requirements. The new ISR form replaces the Contact Card, which served the same purpose: to document who you stopped and why. That Contact Card had a total of 27 boxes that needed to be filled in. The new ISR form has 95 boxes to be filled in or checked on one side and 47 on the other, plus a half-page narrative section. All that information has to be provided for each person you stop.

 

If officers stop two cars with four occupants each, or clear two groups of gangbangers from their corner, those officers are done for the day. Assignments these officers are unable to handle because they are tied up filling out ISR forms, will be pushed off on other cars in their sector.

 

At the same time, citizens who previously would have been allowed to continue on their way after five minutes, must now be detained for the 45 to 60 minutes it may take to fill out a single ISR, all because the ACLU - the self-appointed guardians of liberty - have decided they need all that information on each and everyone of us to make sure that cops are not unlawfully detaining people.

 

No matter how you slice it, there's only so much officers can do in an 8-hour shift, and, if you triple or quadruple the paperwork requirements for each and every person who is stopped, the net result will be fewer suspicious persons stopped, fewer assignments handled, or both: you do the math.

 

There's no need to look for sinister plots to sabotage the city's efforts to reduce crime: this is why there were fewer guns recovered, and this is why there were more homicides compared to last year... Fewer guns taken off the street, more homicides, the two go hand in hand.

 

People who are stopped by police and forced to endure the entire ISR process, are going to be even more poised off with police: they're not going to complain about the ACLU, they're going to bitch about the cops, and the next time an officer motions for them to come over to his squad car, they're going to run like jackrabbits. Then the cops are going to chase them,... and those are precisely the type of situations that can have tragic consequences. Yes, those ISR-forms will be the gifts that keep on giving...

 

The times, they are definitely a-changing. Police officers are expected to stop the most violent crime wave since the Crack Wars of the early 90's, and now they are told to avoid confrontation, and to retreat when they are challenged. At the same time, civilians with concealed carry permits are ready to step into the breach and take the law into their own hands. What could possibly go wrong, right?

 

I never did buy into the NRA's interpretation of the Second Amendment, but their vision may yet be realized.

 

The way I read the Second Amendment, our Founding Fathers intended to give men of property the right to carry a flintlock rifle. There is no mention of a Glock 17 with a 30-round clip. Yet, through a sustained, sophisticated campaign, the NRA has managed to convince the political elite that everyone needs to carry a firearm at all times, because you can not count on the police to come in time to save your ass. Along the way, they have betrayed those same Founding Fathers they love to quote, by driving home the message that you do not need a firearm to help defend your government, but to use that weapon against your own government.

 

Big city police officers have traditionally opposed concealed carry by civilians, which poses a considerable risk to police officers. Now that Concealed Carry has become the law of the land, and the backlash against law enforcement is in full swing, we are on the verge of creating a society in which the Black Gangster Disciples, the Latin Kings, and thousands of other street gangs across the United States will be the closest thing we have to a 'well-regulated militia."

 

Right now, Chicago cops have circled the wagons and are trying to do their job as best they can in a decidedly hostile environment. The media, undaunted, continues to run negative stories wherever and whenever they can find them. After a solid two-month barrage of anti-police stories and interviews around the basic premise that Chicago Police Officers are untrustworthy - among other things - they have just conducted a new poll with truly shocking results: they have found that a majority of Chicagoans do not trust the police!

 

I must say, I am truly shocked. I don't know what we'd do without you guys fighting for truth and justice. Be sure to give yourselves another award...

     

This local "Llama Mmama" now has sort of adopted me. If I wait by her pasture, she comes to the fence and gets "up close and personal" like this. I don't think I look like a llama, but maybe I do to her. Or maybe I look like her owner. One more unsolved local mystery.

This quite large pasture usually contains several llamas and alpacas.

I don't know if they are kept e.g. for their wool, or if they are just pets.

Here is a link to my three earlier "LLama Mmama" photos, featuring close-ups of PAIRS of llamas.

www.flickr.com/search/?text=llama%20mmamas

Location: Private pasture, Autal mini-valley, Riehen BS Switzerland.

In my album: Dan Animals.

 

This lovely cottage stands on a short private lane between the churchyard and the garden wall of the Manor House, so this rather cramped shot was the best I could manage. It is rather tucked away, and seems to have been missed by other photographers, as I haven't seen any other images of it.

 

This quiet village is perhaps most notorious for the bizarre and gruesome murder of Charles Walton on the evening of 14 February 1945. All kinds of rumours and myths, including witchcraft, surround the event, and it remains Warwickshire Police's oldest unsolved murder. (Excellent Wikipedia entry)

Entry into kings rule customs contest basic idea is to make Sherlock Holmes figures I had actually had some of these ideas before the contest so yea basic rundown

While trying to stop Moriarty’s newest plan to blow up the city Holmes sacrifices himself to save Watson and stop the bomb, Watson blames himself and retires creating a power vacuum in London, meanwhile a time traveling Cthulhu worshipping death cult on a mission to resurrect their god retrieve a barely alive Holmes from the rubble modifying into the cyborg assassin leader of their special ops team made up of other dead people with close ties to legendary heros through out history(think winter soldier)the cult assembles an army starts retrieving necessary objects for their ritual, meanwhile a group of history’s greatest heros team up to stop the cult eventually ending them up in London near the turn of the century dragging a retired Watson into the conflict,the group continues having a last stand with the cult in the present, Watson faces robo Holmes and the cult is stopped but winning the war traps Holmes and Watson in the present putting them up against a world of new threats

 

From left to right

 

The mad Russian:a radical terrorist leader attempting to assassinate these president in the conflict losing his arm to Watson leading him on a years long revenge quest

 

The zodiac killer:with Holmes and Watson trapped in the present they begin solving unsolved mysteries and easily begin cracking the zodiac case the killer now a successful actor can’t have his name tarnished and comes out of retirement and hires red herons and makes fake kills trying to throw the duo off his trial

 

The wolf:ww1 soldier bitten by a werewolf in battle joins forces with other monsters and reeks havoc before the group is disbanded and subsequently killed nearly 100 years later Dracula awakes and gets the group back together with help from the doc reviving the old crew the begin to reek havoc once more before being stopped and forced to go on the run leading the wolf to come in conflict with Sherlock

 

Watson:after having lost his best friend and crime fighting partner Watson retires falling into a depression before a group of mysterious men and women show up on his doorstep asking for help not being able to turn down heros in need Watson teams up with the strangers fighting what seemed to be unstoppable cyborgs before ending up in the 21st century for a last stand realizing that the leader of the soldiers was in fact his deceased friend Watson was distraught at the sight Holmes would never do this he thought on his way to shut down the cults super weapon he runs into his old friend getting into a one on one duel with the man he’d call his brother begging him to stop the anarchy Holmes in a moment of clarity shuts down the weapon ending the battle.now stuck in the future Watson begins to reconnect with Holmes and the duo begin fighting crime once more

 

Cy-lock Holmes?robo Holmes?idk man:now stuck in a new world Holmes is rushed with thoughts with more questions than answers Holmes had always felt in control like the smartest person in the room but now he never knew if he’d feel that way again he had had no control for almost 5 years forced to steal and kill what if that was free will what if he wanted that he had fought his best friend assimilated several political leaders and the list went on, he wasn’t sure he deserved forgiveness especially without giving done anything to make up for it maybe he could atone for his sins help people again, he was a fast learner he could adapt to this world he would rekindle his friendship he would redeem himself

 

Boyardee:the step brother of the great great great grandson of Moriarty and the owner of a cheap chain of shitty Italian restaurants which are actually a money laundering scheme for his real business of dealing technologically advanced weapons

 

Emily Holmes:the great great great grand niece of Sherlock living in America she makes a name for herself solving mysteries that she sets up when Sherlock recruits her to help him solve a mystery he realizes that she’s a incompetent and exposes corrupt business she then devotes her life on breaking Holmes and making a mystery he can’t solve

 

Charles Augustus Magnussen the third:the great great great grand son of Charles Augustus Magnussen(the news paper owner from the show)having turned it into a news broadcast he spends his time complaining about Holmes and Watson(think j Jonah Jameson)

 

Top row

 

Zorro:I mean sherlock is basically a superhero so superhero team up

 

Moriarty:great gr-you get the point. Running organized crime with his step brother(think of Calvin and Felix from bobs burgers) Moriarty continues the family business

 

Agent Ron dalton:sherlocks government liaison.dalton being related to Watson is slowly back to the futured out of existence by the Changes to the time space continuum, he searches for a cure for his illness

These are from seven winters ago @ our back gate - many of you all haven't seen them and some I never posted before now. This shot shows the only "spiral" shooting across. There are no big bugs flying in the daytime here in January. Leaves? it was windy but the streaks shoot in different directions and some are orbs. Night winter moths?? We see a few.

 

An unsolved January mystery that's never happened again!

De Uithoflijn lijkt op 29 juli 2019 met reizigers te kunnen gaan rijden, maar vanwege diverse infrastructuurproblemen nog wel met een frequentie van 6 maal per uur in plaats van de beoogde 12 (in de spits 16) keer per uur.

 

Hier twee trams tijdens de dagelijkse dienstregelingtest op de Heidelberglaan

 

Test drives on the new tramway line in Utrecht from Central station to Science Park, seen on Heidelberglaan. Start of commercial operation is foreseen on July 29th, 2019 - with 6 trams per hour instead of the planned 12 (16 in peak hours) due to several unsolved infrastructural problems

SET 2 – Goodman/Getwell Kroger, Post-Remodel

 

Unsolved sandwich mysteries aside, for this pic we’re turning our attention back to the Starbucks in the front right corner. Not to be left out, Starbucks had its own interesting series of décor events, too, with the original, Banner décor-style woodgrain signage lasting almost until the very end of the remodel: when at the very last minute, it was suddenly removed and quickly replaced with the new style shown here, which admittedly fits in much better with the new décor package anyway. Does anyone know if this floral-like pattern is a new thing for in-store Starbucks locations? I’m pretty sure this was my first time seeing it in a Kroger. Nothing about the counter itself appears to have changed… only the décor on the wall above it.

 

(c) 2023 Retail Retell

These places are public so these photos are too, but just as I tell where they came from, I'd appreciate if you'd say who :)

 

Chronicles of lifting Light B (Bridesmaids)

The alternate version of Chronicles of lifting Light C (The Reception Game)- Album

 

“ The wedding was a little over the top. The bride wanted her girl’s dresses to be something they would wear out again. A nice thought, but the gowns she found were a little too long for anything but formal evening wear, according to our girls who were asked to be part of the bridal party. The maid of honor wore a red satin version; midnight black satin was selected for the 6 bridesmaids.”

 

“A few years ago, “Ginny” was watching some type of show when I heard her squeal out. Our Golden Retriever ‘Sam’ meandered back in to see what all the fuss was about? I obediently followed. She pointed out to me an actress ( Emma Watson at the premier for NOAH) , That’s M’gown she exclaimed with enthusiasm, you remember, The ones your sister and I first wore for “Shiela’s” brides party, the one where your sister thought she had been ro… but she broke it off as something caught her attention on the telly.”

 

“Squirrel I thought, as Sam and I both looked. It was a black satin gown very strikingly similar in colour, cut, and material ( but Ginny’s version lacked a dangling train behind) to the one worn by Ginny ( and me sister) at thier chums wedding years before ( and winningly worn several times hence I might add). It is a pretty thing to behold my charming Ginny wearing it, and in its time, it has born witness to a few goings on that most ladies wearing a gown like that would most likely never encounter…….”

 

Chronicles of lifting Light B

*************************************** **************************************** *****

This story is true, and is really pretty much told as it happened, but in writing it down for the first time ever I found I could not resist the temptation to embellish and expand some of the scenarios. It makes for a much better story I believe.

 

It is long, so here goes it….

 

My twin sister and our friend “Ginny” were invited to join in a school chums bridal party. The groom didn’t have enough to go around so my sister’s boyfriend “Brian” and I were pressed into service.

 

At the reception Ginny made a comment about the flimsy clasps on the longish rhinestone earrings they were wearing. My sister, touching an earring, told her, “ no worries, luv, no one would nick them anyways, they are only rhinestones”. I wasn’t sure what was going on in my sister’s head that made her come out with that reply. But as I watched her pull at an earring, a seed was planted in my head about something I myself had seen in an old TV show (An episode that first wakened an interest in pickpocketing).

 

Much later that evening found Brian and I alone, and a little drunk (always a precarious time with us). I had been enjoying watching our girls on the dance floor. “Ginny” was dancing a slow dance with the brides Groom ( an awkward chap with the sometimes unfortunate name of Cecil), Sis was dancing with some boorish banker bloke whose name I choose not to remember. As I watched the girl’s swishing gowns move and flutter about in quite an interesting exhibition, I found meself mesmerized by the manner in which their display of jewels were sparkling. Not being able to shake Ginny’s earlier comment, nor its answer, out of my head, my mind began to drift and wander in some very deep waters; pulled about in some strong personal currents.

 

Suddenly, I had an epiphany, and I started to tell Brian about the show that had vexed me all these years past. It was an old Gilligan’s Island episode ( The Kidnapper). Ginger was dancing in formal wear with the thief they were trying to reform. He lifted up her long hair, exposing these long diamonded earrings she was wearing. When he let her hair back down, gone went Ginger’s diamond Earrings.( he also nicked another ladies diamond necklace in a similarly devious fashion).

 

I had been thinking about it, and saw that this may be a prime opportunity to try and mimic what I had found so intriguing in my younger day’s ( is what happened to Ginger possible in real life?) and so I drew Brian’s attention to where my sister was dancing and intentionally pointed out her healthy collection of rhinestones ( the lot of matching sets the bride had picked out for her girls to wear with their silky gowns was a bit overkill in Brian’s opinion, a view not shared by me).

 

I decided then to plant my own seed, so I questioned out loud if it was possible to pickpocket jewelry in the manner the thief in Gilligan’s Island had so cunningly carried out? We discussed it for bit, ending the friendly dispute that ensued by daring that the other couldn’t pull it off. I focused on my sister, because I figured that would be more of a tantalizing bait to dangle in front of Brian, who was horribly smitten with her, and I was right on the money! So my twin sister in the black satin gown and her rhinestones ended up being the preferred guinea pig for the goad.

 

Brian lost the toss and danced with her first,( happily cutting in on the banker fella) and was surprisingly as successful as he was swift. I watched as he swirled sis around the dance floor. For such a gig guy, “Brian” is surprisingly light on his feet, which is why in school he was an outstanding rugby player. I was watching eagerly, trying to guess what he was going after. His large hands began inching down her satin gown’s sleeves, so I was sure he was going for one of her dangling rhinestone bracelets.

 

He must have said something funny, for my sister raised her head back laughing, her long straight hair falling charmingly back, baring her throat to him. Brian’s hands moved back up, and in behind her throat. Then in a manner quite graceful for fingers that large, unclasped and slipped away the thin necklace from around her sweat glistened throat and pocketed it before she had finished her spurt of laughter. The song soon ended, and the pair of ‘em came back, Brian with a very smug grin on his bearded mug. He then took “Ginny” (who had just rejoined us after shaking off a seedy looking bloke who had wanted her to dance) by the hand and led her off dancing, his eyes taunting me to make my attempt.

 

Not to be outdone, I immediately led Sis back onto the floor before she had time to catch a breath. We danced to a rather Latin type beat. My sister turned her backside into me, and sort of did this gyrating move up and down my front side, with her hands held high above her head. As her warm, sweaty figure, slipped up and down slickly against mine, I looked things over, deciding on which of her remaining jewelry to target.

 

I started by placing my hands at her waist and let them slither up the silky sides of her satin gown, as I made my choice, one of her shimmering bracelets that were winking at me from her wrists waving above my head. With the prize within my grasp, I made my move. I found meself trembling a bit, as I moved my hands to her shoulders , with the thought bring down her arms in order to work my fingers down her gowns’ sleeve, where just below would be lying my objective. But just as I did, Sis pulled her arms behind me head, and laid her head back on my shoulder and closing her eyes, getting into the music’s deep beat. Her longish rhinestone earrings just hung there, like Gingers, ripe for the picking.

 

Without really putting any thought into it, I reached up and placed my hands gently alongside her ears, her eyes still shut, my victim smiled. The rest of the maneuver was surprisingly easy, as I glided my fingers down and slipped it off the pair of em in one effortless motion. The sparkling beauties came away from her sweaty ears as smoothly as an ice cube moves along a steaming hot grill ( I actually did have a thought like that). I held them in one fist for a bit, relishing in my success, before securing them away. We finished out the song, me basking in the fact that she was innocently unaware that her shiny earrings were now in her dance partners vest pocket.

 

But, not willing to be satisfied with the initial success of our experiment, we found that the dares kept coming out. Becoming so competitive between us, that by the time we left for the evening, the score was 5 pieces of jewelry to 4, with Brian winning the bragging rights, and my sister out all of the rhinestone pieces she had started out wearing about on her person.

 

Of course this is sounding like a masterful bit of pickpocketing, but our efforts were aided by keeping our pretty victim plied with alcohol ( wondering all the while if that is a technique is used by pickpockets working over their victims in real life?). Using that as an edge; another turn on the dance floor, a compliment induced hug, and the victim falling into deep sleep in a lounge armchair, enabled us vultures to eventually part my twin from all of her sparkling jewelry.

 

Also, as a side note here, all four of us had a discussion later about what it said of us as a society that none outside our group seemed to notice or bother pointing out to my sister about her slowly disappearing baubles!

 

We left the reception well after midnight and started walking the ten city blocks back to the hotel where Ginny and my sister shared a joining room with Brian and meself. As were making our way through a wooded Provincial park, we stopped in a small, isolated clearing and circling around her ,finally asked my sister about her missing jewels. Her reaction was absolutely, rewardingly priceless.

 

Her startled response was to the effect of: “Gasping, My God” as she fruitlessly felt about for them, her rustling gown glistened dark in the moon light. “My jewels, where did they go!, who took them, I’ve been robbed, mugged?” she pleaded helplessly, her thought patterns and speech a little slurred by her rather intoxicated condition. She looked desperately around at us, then seeing the look on upon our faces, and upon noticing that Ginny was still adorned with her jewels, Sis froze with the realization that we had all been up to something no good. As the silliness of her conjectures came home, she blushed, and told us to spill it out.

 

Here, we had all thought she had eventually caught on to what we had been up to all evening and was just humoring us, but in reality she had been utterly clueless. Ginny ( who had soon caught on to our little game but played dumb) was merciless in her teasing of my sister, rubbing it all in as she helped my twin place back on the Rhinestones that Brian and I dug from our pockets. I didn’t add any fuel to the fire, but I noticed that when Sis had uttered the word mugged, Ginny had automatically held onto her necklace and pendent!

Sis ended up taking it all with her usual good humor, or so we thought.

 

This next bit is my favorite.

 

We went up to the boys room, as the girls called our room, where we drank beer, danced to music and talked a bit. About two hours later found Brian passed out on the couch, and me sitting next to him in kind of a hazy stupor while holding onto a beer. Ginny and my sister were standing directly in front of me, holding beers of their own and giggling over some girlish nonsense, the swaying of their long glossy black satin gowns slowly putting me to sleep.

 

Ginny started giggling at one of sis jokes, and turned her figure so the brooch at the center of her gowns’ waistline almost hit me on the nose. Half asleep I reached up and lifted it. Looking up at the girls I saw that Ginny was paying no never mind towards me, my sister however, did notice (this is why I like the Sonia clip) and she laid a hand on Ginny’s shoulder, drawing her close so she could whisper a secret. I was able to undo the brooch, and slip it carefully off without notice. I held it up to my sister’s hand, which closed over it, and then she turned and plopped down next to me on the couch.

 

We both started talking to Ginny, now standing in front of us, as if nothing was going on. Puzzled I waited for my sister to flaunt the brooch in Ginny’s face. Instead, as she got Ginny into another giggling fit, she leaned over and whispered the word pendant in my ear, her hand holding out her own for added emphasis. I knew then she had thought up some grand plan.

 

Now wide awake, I got into fully my sister’s game. As I watched the giggling Ginny, my eyes took careful inventory of all her finer points (not just her jewels I will admit) . Now role playing that I was a professional pickpocket, and my twin was the spotter, pointing out whose jewels were worth taking. Ginny stopped, and caught my eyes looking her over, she blushed, and not knowing what was really going through my mind, smiled at me, as I smiled back, my eyes drinking her fetchingly attired figure up. I was imagining that all of Ginny’s collection of rhinestones was real diamonds. And that I was an actual thief after her lovely sparklers.

 

Thinking for a moment, I rose to my feet, and feeling like the real thing, I took Ginny’s hand and led her across to the window the couch was facing. We were on the 14th floor with a grand sweeping view of the great cities skyline. I asked her if she knew what the pink lights were about (there were no pink lights) and as she looked and kept asking where, I saw in the windows reflection that behind me my sister was pinning Ginny’s brooch onto the Brian’s passed out figure. Smiling, I got to the task at hand.

 

Using my hands I got Ginny to bend over more to help in her search, watching her dangling “diamond “ chain with its’ oval “diamond” pendent swinging an enticingly beckoning reflection in the window. I reached around with one hand and easily undid the clasp to poor befuddled Ginny’s chain. Using the pendants reflection in the window as a focal point, I subtly lowered my other hand underneath it, and as I caught it, let go of the chain. Pendent and chain slithered into a nice little pile in my palm, which I immediately closed up around it, hiding it from my victim’s possible notice.

 

I turned and nodded to my sister, who rose, tipsily, and slinked across the room to us. She brushed up against me with the pretense of seeing what we were up to. I felt her arm go around my waist, and handed Ginny’s necklace off. Sis than circled around us, giving Ginny a squeeze, and looked at me meaningfully, her fingers brushing an earring. She went back to the couch and began draping the shimmery chain and pendent on poor Brian.

 

A slow song had been playing, so I told Ginny to no never mind pink lights, and taking her hand, asked “madameswell” if she cared to dance. I tried it in an accent, failed miserably, and got Ginny to giggling as she accepted. I lead her the long way around the couch to where we had cleared out a little bit of a dancing floor. As I took her into my arms I found it exciting that she was oblivious to my intentions. Innocently unaware, that in indifference to my sisters words earlier, someone did now want to nick the earrings so merrily sawing from her ears.

 

I bided my time, appearing to look into Ginny’s eyes, my mind was working on something else. When I made my first move it was as subtle as could be, and it paid off. Raising me hand, I lifted her hair above an ear, and an let my fingers run back down through. One of her earrings vanished into my hand, and reaching around, was neatly tossed into another. As my sister placed it on Brian’s ear,( by now he was looking quite comical, and it was all we could do to keep from bursting out laughing), I leaned in and whispered something into Ginny’s now bare ear, while my other hand reached around and plucked the other earring away, and tossed the sparkler gracefully over to my sisters waiting hands.

 

Needing no more direction from sis now that I knew her plan ( It was her way of getting back at Brian for our game, and at Ginny for her teasing, it never occurred to me to wonder what my punishment would be!), I carried on alone.

 

Employing the same method that the thief had used in the Gilligan’s Island episode to remove his dance partners necklace, I began to compliment Ginny on how devastating she looked ( no lies), slowly moving my one hand up the slick material of the gown covering her back until I reached the dangling part of her hook and eye necklace with its’ glittering row of single “diamonds”. Lifted it up as she fawned over my words of (not false) praise, holding her ever so her tightly around the waist with my free hand, I unhooked the clasp, and let the necklace fall over one shoulder. Ginny never felt it hanging, or noticed it as I slipped it off her chest and over her gown’s satin shoulder till it slipped sparkling down behind her. I held it hanging behind her back for a few turns, still pouring out the compliments, until I was close enough to neatly toss her necklace over the couch to my waiting partner in crime.

 

Sis was waiting, and as the necklace sailed over the couch, I saw her raise a hand, and pull at one of her rings. How?, I mouthed, and she held up a finger motioning me to wait a sec. I continued to dance with Ginny, who was growing ever heavier in my arms, as sis placed the necklace around poor Brian’s throat.

 

I watched as me twin got up and passed us , her satin gown whispering as she walked, heading to get a beer from the fridge. She stood for a moment then gave me a signal to twirl our victim around.

 

I lifted her hand, and spun Ginny around in a pirouette . The poor thing, already more than a little tipsy, fell hard against me, giggling. I did it again, and as she stared to lose her balance, my sister walked past and faking a trip, bumped into Ginny and both girl’s went down in a heap of black swishing satin. As I bent over to help the pair of giggling dolls untangle, I manage to slip off a ring off from over the sweaty knuckles of Ginny’s left pinky finger.

 

I helped them both up, and as my sister helped straighten Ginny’s gown while giggling over the incident, Ginny placed her hands behind her back, exposing her bracelets. I pocketed the ring, and moving up against Ginny from behind, attempted to remove the first “Diamond” bracelet from around her wrist. It came away with absolutely no resistance, or notice, and I moved off, and went to stand next to my sister, hands crossed behind me back. She put her arm around me, hugging me against her, I felt her fingers go to my hand, and I opened my fingers and let her take the ring and bracelet. Keeping her fist closed, she coolly left us, retrieving her unopened beer from the floor, and headed back smoothly to the couch.

 

I will admit I was now getting overly confident. I asked Ginny if she wanted a beer and we went over to the kitchenette to get them. As we walked, I placed my hands on her slick waist and led her there, as she giggled tipsily the whole way. I held the door open, and as she was bending down to get them, she laid her arm along the top of the drawer. I then made my seventh attempt, on her other “Diamond” bracelet

 

I had undone the clasp, and was getting ready to take it when I made the fatal error at looking over her shoulder at the couch. My sister was inwardly laughing at her handiwork, and to see a person like Brien, who takes his masculinity with pride, now decked out like some bearded floozy, was too much. I chuckled, and the bracelet fell, clanking against the door, landing at Ginny’s feet. I was caught red handed and my attempt at any more thievery was thwarted. Ginny smirked; here now lad, don’t try yer games on me.

 

Behind her, Ginny head my sister snort, and looking at my smirk, demanded to know what we had found so funny. So I grabbed her, spun her around, and led her back around the couch until she caught sight of the still snoring Brian! We both joined my sister in busting a gut laughing. Then, come to find that poor innocent Ginny thought that it was my sister’s rhinestones plastered all over poor Brian. When we pointed out the errors of her conclusion, it was my sister’s turn to laugh and tease the poor girl over her dumbfounded expression as now it was her hands failing to find her missing pieces of jewelry. Then Brian woke and he became the new center of the joke.

 

Ginny had reclaimed her rhinestones and had disappeared into the ladies room to replace them to their rightful perch and rejoin in with their remaining companions, which I thought, being so late, why bother? And Brain and Sis were on the couch still teasing the other. Suddenly I felt a hand softly placed on my shoulder, and looking up found myself trapped in a “come hither” look, emanating from Ginny’s twinkling green eyes, a look that I have come since to know very well.

 

We left the pair of gigglers on the couch, and went out into the evening, just the two of us, meeting nary another living soul at that early morning hour. The only exceptions were a weary desk clerk with a nose buried in her book, and a curious short blue-haired lady wearing a grey pant-suit, carrying a large handbag, who came upon Ginny in the lobby, while I was absent using its restroom . The odd thing here is, that until I showed up after doing my business, the lady appeared to be trying to lead good hearted Ginny outside to help search for some lost keys or such, at 2:30 Am! I suggested her to wait until light.

 

After managing to pry Ginny away, receiving the now disapproving look from purse –lipped blue haired lady for my efforts, we otherwise were not held up in our progress. The world was now ours, as my richly attired lady and her tuxedoed (handsome?)Escort made their journey together hand in hand. We ended up making a very long stroll in the Provincial park, and reentering the same isolated, secret clearing, proceeded to acting out our own role playing game, ala the movie “to Catch a Thief”, complete with fireworks of our own making.

 

And I still remember feeling pretty bloody cocky as Ginny and I left our room and rode the elevator down. And why not, I ask? Cause now , not only was I out strolling about with the most captivating ginger haired lass, sparkling in fancy dress around, but I had totally creamed Brian’s score in the jewelry lifting department, and that’s what life is all about for us boys, winning the game, isn’t it?

 

So ends my story, of which I have written 2 versions.

My question is now this:

Which version, if one reads both, do you believe to be the truer?

Please leave a comment at the end of the story you believe is..

In appreciation,

Thank You

 

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In Appraisal

This story may be unique in its nature, but if not we would love to hear about it. Please leave a comment or drop an email ( or both) about you own experience.

Thank You

 

The Sonia clip shortcut ( recommended viewing)

youtu.be/HAZdjhNVjxk

 

Ps. Check out Chronicles of lifting light C for a less embellished telling this particular event

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All rights and copyrights observed by Chatwick University, Its contributors, associates and Agents

 

The purpose of these chronological photos and accompanying stories, articles is to educate, teach, instruct, and generally increase the awareness level of the general public as to the nature and intent of the underlying criminal elements that have historically plagued humankind.

 

No Part of this can reprinted, duplicated, or copied be without the express written permission and approval of Chatwick University.

 

These photos and stories are works of fiction. Any resemblance to people, living or deceased, is purely coincidental.

As with any work of fiction or fantasy the purpose is for entertainment and/or educational purposes only, and should never be attempted in real life.

We accept no responsibility for any events occurring outside this website.

 

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Built in 1901, this Hawaiian Gothic-style hotel, mixing elements of the Queen Anne, Classical Revival, Beaux Arts, and Renaissance Revival styles, was designed by Oliver G. Traphagen and built by the Lucas Brothers for Walter Chamberlain Peacock as the first large hotel on Waikiki. Expanded in 1918 with the addition of two six-story concrete wings and a large rooftop addition on the original building, the hotel has changed scale and massing considerably from its original design, but maintains its original facade, roof, and decorative trim and ornament. The first hotel on Waikiki, the Moana featured 75 guest rooms with bathrooms and telephone service, a main parlor, salon, billiard room, and library, and a main reception area on the first floor, a grand staircase, ionic fluted columns inside the main lobby, an electric elevator, and an open two-story portion of the lobby ringed by balustrades on the second floor, with the hotel being considered very modern and luxurious for its time. In 1904, a banyan tree was planted in the courtyard on the ocean side of the hotel by Jared Smith, Director of the Department of Agriculture Experiment Station, which has since grown to be 75 feet tall and 150 feet wide. The hotel proved a bit too ambitious for the investment Peacock had put into it, and it was sold to Alexander Young in 1905 after encountering financial difficulties. Following Young’s death in 1910, the building became the property of the Territorial Hotel Company, founded by Young, which expanded the hotel with two wings in 1918, but went bankrupt during the Great Depression, with ownership then coming under the Matson Navigation Company. Various famous guests stayed at the hotel over the years, including the Prince of Wales and future King Edward VIII in 1920, author Agatha Christie and her husband in 1922, and Jane Stanford, co-founder of Stanford University, whom mysteriously died of strychnine poisoning in the hotel, though her murder remains unsolved. The original building features lots of classical Ionic columns, a hipped roof with broad overhanging eaves and brackets, clapboard siding, arched openings at the lanais with fleur-de-lis motif panels between them and supported by doric columns, decorative balustrades, one-over-one double-hung windows in singles and groups. In the center of the building is a tower with oxeye windows below the main roofline, doric pilasters on the corners, a lanai on the sixth floor with arched openings and a long row of french doors, and a tall porte cochere in the center of the first and second floors of the tower with fluted ionic columns, a roofline wrapped with a decorative balustrade, and an architrave featuring festoons, dentils, and brackets. The building also features lanais on the fifth floor below the roofline with decorative columns and sawn balustrades supported by brackets and featuring decorative trim, lanais with arched openings and sawn balustrades on the ends of the fifth floor of the original side wings, large arched openings at the base of the original side wings with large windows and juliet balconies, accented with circular panels featuring fleur-de-lis motifs, and crowned with another juliet balcony supported by columns, hipped dormers, and a multi-tier lanai on the rear of the building facing the ocean. The hotel was expanded with two Renaissance Revival-style six-story wings on either side in 1918, which featured concrete construction and stucco-clad exteriors with arched and rectangular double-hung one-over-one windows with decorative trim surrounds, open staircases on the front and rear facades with arched exterior openings, juliet balconies, small ionic columns, brackets, and corner pilasters, a hipped roof with broad overhanging bracketed eaves, small rooftop towers with hipped roofs, and arched vents, and pilasters at the corners of the wings themselves, dividing the side facades into three segments. After the construction of the wings in 1918, a large breezeway with double-hung windows making up most of the exterior was constructed across the ridge of the hipped roof of the original hotel building, running straight through the original building’s tower in the middle, which saw the addition of a similar rooftop tower with arched vents to the two 1918 wings. The hotel was renovated multiple times in the 20th Century, with the loss of the original porte cochere, reconfiguration of the interior, and the addition of bungalows across Kalakaua Avenue in 1925, which led to the hotel becoming known as the Moana-Seaside Hotel & Bungalows during the period between the 1920s and 1950s. A new hotel, known as the Surfrider, was built immediately Diamond Head of the Moana Hotel by the Matson Navigation Company in 1952, which stood 8 stories tall, towering over the older hotel next door. The hotel’s bungalows were demolished the following year and replaced by the Princess Kaiulani Hotel, with the Moana Hotel, Surfrider Hotel, and Princess Kaiulani Hotel being sold to Sheraton Hotels and Resorts in 1959. The Moana Hotel and Surfrider Hotel were sold to the Kyo-Ya Company, led by Japanese industrialist Kenji Osano, in 1963, but remained under the Sheraton banner. In 1969, a new and much taller Surfrider Hotel was built immediately Ewa of the Moana Hotel, with a new taller tower being added to the Princess Kaiulani Hotel in 1970. After the completion of the new Surfrider Hotel, the old Surfrider, built in 1952, became the Moana Ocean Lanai, and later, the Diamond Head Tower of the Moana Hotel. The Moana Hotel was listed on the National Register of Historic Places in 1972. In 1989, the Moana Hotel was restored under the direction of architect Virginia D. Murison to its 1920s exterior appearance, with the restoration of deteriorated exterior elements, interior common spaces, and reconstruction of the original porte cochere, as well as better integration of the historic hotel with the adjacent 1952 and 1969 buildings on either side. Now known as the Sheraton Moana Surfrider, the resort maintained the historic charm of the original Moana Hotel and conserved the hotel’s iconic banyan tree, while boasting 793 modern guest rooms, a new pool, with the project winning many preservation awards. The hotel has since been rebranded as the Westin Moana Surfrider Hotel.

"The Ghosts of the Bloody Pit"

The East Portal of the Hoosac Tunnel, Massachusetts

September 18th, 2016

 

Excellent write up by History and Hauntings of America

 

The tunnel was one of the greatest undertakings of the region and work was started on it in 1851. It was not finished for almost 25 years! During that period, hundreds of miners, using mostly black powder, shovels, picks and their own hands, fought against the unyielding rock of Hoosac Mountain. By the time the tunnel was finally finished, more than 200 men had died in what came to be known as the “Bloody Pit”. They died in fires, explosions, tunnel collapses and in one case, by the hand of another. It would be the cold-blooded murder that occurred in 1865 that would give the tunnel its reputation for ghosts.

 

It was during that year that the explosive known as nitroglycerin was introduced to America. The construction crew of the Hoosac Tunnel would have the honor of being among the first crews to use it. On the afternoon of March 20, 1865, three explosive experts named Ned Brinkman, Billy Nash and Ringo Kelley decided to use nitro to continue their work on the tunnel. They placed a charge and then ran back toward a safety bunker that would shield them from the effects of the blast. Brinkman and Nash never made it there however. For some reason, Ringo Kelley set off the charge before the other men could make it to shelter. The two men were buried alive under tons of rock.

 

Soon after the accident, Kelley vanished without a trace, leading many to believe that the “accident” with the nitro may not have been an accident after all. He was not seen again until March 30, 1866... when his body was discovered two miles inside of the tunnel. It was found at almost the exact spot where Brinkman and Nash had been killed. The authorities quickly deduced that Kelley had been strangled to death. Deputy Sheriff Charles F. Gibson estimated that he had been murdered between midnight and 3:30 AM that morning. The death was thoroughly investigated but no suspects were ever found and the crime went unsolved.

 

And while the authorities determined that no killer could be find, the construction workers had their own ideas about who had killed Ringo Kelley. According to the rumors and whispers, they believed that Kelley had been killed by the vengeful spirits of Brinkman and Nash. They came to feel that the tunnel was cursed and many of them refused to enter it again. Some of the crew members walked off the job and did not return. The dark and brooding place, with the deep shadows and dripping water, became known as a shunned one. It was best avoided most believed, slowing the construction of the tunnel down even more.

 

In 1868, the construction site was toured by Paul Travers, a mechanical engineer and a respected cavalry officer during the Civil War. He had received a letter from a Mr. Dunn of the construction company, who had asked him to come and examine the tunnel. Apparently, the workers “complained constantly of hearing a man’s voice cry out in agony” and needless to say, refused to enter the half-completed tunnel after sundown. Dunn was convinced that the strange sounds were nothing more than winds sweeping off the mountainside but despite his assurances, work had slowed down so drastically that he had contacted Paul Travers to investigate the matter.

 

Travers and Dunn went out to the site on September 8 and the former military officer did not soon forget when he encountered there. He later wrote a letter to his sister and told her about the weird experience: “Dunn and I entered the tunnel at exactly 9:00 PM. We traveled about two miles into the shaft and then we stopped to listen. As we stood there in the cold silence, we both heard what truly sounded like a man groaning out in pain. As you know, I have heard this same sound many times during the war. Yet, when we turned up our the wicks on our lamps, there were no other human beings in the shaft except Mr. Dunn and myself. I’ll admit I haven’t been this frightened since Shiloh. Mr. Dunn agreed that it wasn’t the wind we heard. Perhaps Nash and Brinkman.... I wonder?”

 

A month after Travers’ investigation, on October 17, the worst disaster to occur in the tunnel’s history took place. A gas explosion blew apart the water pumping station on the surface and 13 miners were killed when debris filled the central tunnel where they had been working. A reporter for the North Adams Transcript wrote that a miner named Mallery was lowered in a bucket into the shaft. He was told to look for any sign of survivors. He was brought back to the surface a few minutes later, nearly unconscious from the fumes inside. “No hope....” he managed to gasp out to the rescue team.

 

Without the pumping station, the 538-foot shaft filled with water. The bodies of some of the dead crew members grotesquely began to surface. More than a year after the disaster, the last of them were found. The missing miners and the macabre discovery of the bodies created stories and legends in the surrounding area.

 

Glenn Drohan, the correspondent who had first written about the accident for the Transcript wrote: “During the time the miners were missing, villagers told strange tales of vague shapes and muffled wails near the water-filled pit. Workmen claimed to see the lost miners carrying picks and shovels through a shroud of mist and snow on the mountaintop. The ghostly apparitions would appear briefly, then vanish, leaving no footprints in the snow, giving no answer to the miner’s calls.”

 

As soon as the last of the bodies were found and given a decent burial though, Drohan stated, the bizarre visitations ceased. These dead men had apparently found rest but some of the victims of the “Bloody Pit” had not. Even after the apparitions stopped appearing, the eerie moanings in the tunnel continued and the men remained terrified.

 

Based on the account of a Dr. Clifford J. Owen, the haunting also began to take on other characteristics as well. Owens came to the tunnel on a night in June 1872 and was accompanied by James R. McKinstrey, a drilling operations superintendent. There is no information to suggest why the two men came to the tunnel on the last night of June 25, but one might guess that it was in search of the ghosts who allegedly haunted the shaft. If this was the purpose of their trip, then the journey was apparently a successful one!

 

The two men traveled about two miles into the tunnel and then halted to rest. There was no light in the shaft, save for their dim lamps, and Owens later described the tunnel as being “as cold and as dark as a tomb.” The two of them stood there talking for a few minutes and then they heard a strange and mournful sound. It sounded to Owens like someone in great pain.

 

He then goes on to write: “The next thing I saw was a dim light coming along the tunnel in a westerly direction. At first, I believed that it was probably a workman with a lantern. Yet, as the light grew closer, it took on a strange blue color and appeared to change in shape into the form of a human being with no head.”

 

The light moved closer to the two men and was so close that they could almost touch it. It remained motionless, as though watching them, then hovered off toward the east end of the tunnel and vanished. Owens and McKinstrey were understandably stunned and Owens later wrote that while he was “above all a realist” and that he was not “prone to repeating gossip and wild tales that defy a reasonable explanation” he was unable to “deny what James McKinstrey and I witnessed with our own eyes.”

 

Strangeness continued at the Hoosac Tunnel both shortly before and after it opened to admit trains to pass through it. On October 16, 1874 a local hunter named Frank Webster vanished near Hoosac Mountain. Three days later, he was found by a search party, stumbling along the banks of the Deerfield River. He was in a state of shock, mumbling incoherently and falling down. He explained to his rescuers that strange voices had ordered him into the Hoosac Tunnel and once he was inside, he saw ghostly figures wandering around. He also said that invisible hands had snatched his hunting rifle away from him and that he had been beaten with it. He couldn’t remember leaving the tunnel. Members of the search party recalled that Webster did not have his rifle when he was found and the cuts and abrasions on his head and body did seem to bear evidence of a beating.

 

Later that same year, with the tunnel headings completed, workmen removed rocks from the tunnel and began grading the line and laying track. On February 9, 1875, the first train went through the tunnel, pulling three flatcars and a boxcar. A group of 125 people had come along for the ride. According to the news stories about the event, North Adams had just become the “Western Gateway” to the rest of New England. But this was not enough to stop the strange stories from being told.

 

In the fall of 1875, a fire tender on the Boston & Maine rail line named Harlan Mulvaney was taking a wagon load of wood into the tunnel. He had gone just a short distance into the shaft when he suddenly turned his team around, whipped the horses and drove them madly out of the tunnel. A few days later, workers found the team and the wagon in the forest about three miles away from the tunnel. Harlan Mulvaney was never seen or heard from again!

 

The stories continued for years, creating believers from those who worked there, passed through or spent much time about the tunnel. One former railroad employee, Joseph Impoco, worked the Boston & Maine for years. He firmly believed that the tunnel was haunted but he was not afraid of the place. In fact, he credited the resident ghosts with saving his life on two separate occasions. On one afternoon, he was shipping away ice from the tracks when he heard a distinct voice telling him to “run, Joe, run!”

 

He looked back and saw a train bearing down on him! “Sure enough, there was No. 60 coming at me. Boy, did I jump back fast!” He looked around for whoever had called out his name, but there was no one else nearby. Later, he would recall that he had distinctly heard the voice before the train had appeared. He also added that he had seen a man pass by, waving and swinging a torch, but he hadn’t paid attention to anything but the shout. The voice, wherever it had come from, had saved his life.

 

Six weeks after the incident, Impoco was again working on the tracks. This time, he was using a heavy iron crow bar to free some fright cars that had been frozen on the tracks. He was prying at one of the steel wheels when he heard the loud, familiar voice again call out to him. “Joe! Joe! Drop it, Joe!” the voice called frantically. Impoco immediately released the bar and it was instantly jolted and thrown against the tunnel wall by more than 11,000 volts of electricity! The charge came from a short-circuited overhead power line. The unseen friend has saved Joe’s life again.

 

A short time later, Impoco left his job and began working out of the area. Every year though, he would return to the Hoosac Tunnel and pay a sort of “homage” to the ghost who saved his life. He was certain that if he failed to do this one year, some tragedy would befall him. In 1977, Impoco’s wife was ill and rather than go to visit the tunnel, he stayed home with her. In October of that year, she died. Joe believed that her death was connected to his failure to journey to the Hoosac Tunnel.

 

Throughout the 1970’s and the 1980’s, the tunnel began to be investigated by ghost hunters and paranormal groups who had heard of the long history of hauntings. In 1976, a researcher from Agawam, Massachusetts claimed to come face-to-face with one of the local denizens. He described the figure of a man in old-fashioned work clothing, backlit against a brilliant white light. Could it have been the same ghost seen by Owens and McKinstrey in 1872?

 

A professor and part-time ghost hunter named Ali Allmaker had what she felt was a close encounter in the tunnel. She wrote that she was accompanied to the tunnel by a railroad official in 1984 and while there, had the uncomfortable sensation of someone standing close to her. She also stated that several students from North Adams State College visited the tunnel one night and left a tape recorder running in the shaft. They left it there and when they returned and listened to the tape, they heard what seemed to be muffled human voices on the tape.

 

The stories about the “Bloody Pit” still continue to be told today. Locals in the area still claim that strange winds, ghostly apparitions and eerie voices are experienced around and in the daunting tunnel. Visitors who journey to this site today however risk becoming one of the resident ghosts themselves. The Boston & Maine Railroad still runs nearly a dozen freight trains through the tunnel each day, making this a trip that is definitely on the dangerous side! If you’re interested in the historical aspects of the tunnel though, you can visit a museum that is dedicated to the site in the Western Gateway Heritage State Park.

 

But if you are interested in the ghosts, I recommend that you tread lightly here. The spirits of the past are still reported to linger and dark shadows press tightly on every side. Perhaps the Mohawk Indians were right. They named this place Hoosac Mountain, which in their language means “forbidden”. Did they know something about this place that the builders of the tunnel did not?

 

Sources and Bibliography:

Hauck, Dennis William - Haunted Places: The National Directory (1996)

Drake, Samuel Adams -New England Legends and Folklore (1910)

Norman, Michael & Beth Scott - Historic Haunted America (1995)

Allmaker, Ali - Local Haunts (Berkshire Eagle) (1984)

Yankee Magazine (1973)

Huge thanks to Teddi Beres and her ginger haired friend BellaDonna Quixote for setting up the poises and allowing me free reign to use them in my story scenario. The Deed has been done;).

 

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Chronicles of lifting Light C (The Reception Game)

The alternate version of Chronicles of lifting Light B ( Bridesmaids) - Album

 

“The wedding was a little over the top. The bride wanted her girl’s dresses to be something they would wear out again. A nice thought, but the gowns she found were a little too long for anything but formal evening wear, according to our girls who were asked to be part of the bridal party. The maid of honor wore a red silk version; the six Bridesmaids wore theirs in black satin.”

 

“A few years ago, “Ginny” was watching some type of show when I heard her squeal out. Our Golden Retriever ‘Sam’ meandered back in to see what all the fuss was about? I obediently followed. Ginny pointed out to me a model who was wearing fetchingly a long black satin gown, That’s m’ gown Ginny exclaimed, you remember, the one I wore at “Sheila’s” wedding, the one where my necklace was.., But at that point her attention was diverted back to her program. Squirrel I teased as Sam and I watched with her.

 

It was a gown strikingly very similar in colour, cut, and material to the one worn by Ginny ( and me sister) at a chums wedding years before ( and winningly worn several times hence I might add). It is a pretty thing to behold my charming Ginny sporting it, and in its time, it has born witness to a few goings on that most ladies wearing a gown like that would never encounter…….”

 

Chronicles of lifting Light C

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This story is true, and is really pretty much told as it happened.

What we did may sound daft, but read and understand the circumstances, plus realize we all were pretty well lit up with drink.

 

I have enhanced certain aspects of the story, but not as much as on my first draft, for that one came out sounding more farfetched than it should have.

 

For indeed, truth can be stranger than fiction… and coincidences occur, both sweet and bitter….. as I’m sure someone once said.

 

So here goes it….

 

My twin sister and our friend “Ginny” were invited to join in a school chums bridal party. The groom didn’t have enough to go around so my sister’s boyfriend “Brian” and I were pressed, not unwillingly, into service.

 

At the reception my Ginny made a comment about the flimsy clasps on the rhinestone jewelry they were wearing. My Sister, touched her necklace, told her, “ no worries, luv, no one would nick them anyways, they are only rhinestones”. Except my ring isn’t, said Ginny looking down at the ruby ring she was wearing on her pinky. My sister, thinking a minute, retorted “Then one never knows… “ , It looked like she was going to add something, but at that point the band restarted, and we joined the swarm of fancy gowns, silky dresses, suits and tuxes heading to the dance floor.

 

As we headed off, I was still perplexed about what had been going on in Sis’s head that made her come out with that reply, and I swear she had stolen a look at me while saying it. But as I had watched her pull at an earring to emphasize how loose the sparkling jewel was, a seed was planted in my head about a subject I myself had always found fascinating, pickpocketing jewelry!

 

Much later that evening, found Brian, me sister, and I alone, and probably more than a little drunk (always a precarious time with us). As Sis and Brain chatted on about a topic I had lost interest in, I started to watch Ginny, who had been asked to dance by some twit with shifty eyes in a red silk shirt, (open colored), who had rudely cut in on us. As I watched Ginny’s swishing gown move and flutter about in quite an interesting exhibition, I found meself mesmerized by the manner in which her healthy display of rhinestones were sparkling about( as they had been all evening). I looked back at my sister, and her own show of jewelry, sparkling up nicely against a black satin backdrop.

 

Still not being able to shake me twin’s earlier comment, nor its answer, out of my head about nicking jewels, I finally chanced asking my twin about her comments. She looked at me, having to think back a bit about the question, ( As I said, we were more drunk than sober by then), placing a nicely ringed finger to her lips, while regrouping her thoughts. Got it, she exclaimed proudly remembering what had triggered her memory, and started to explain.

 

When she was a tyke of about 7, there was a show that she had seen on the tele that centered on this group of people trying to reform a thief. Believing that he had turned a new leaf, they threw a fancy dance for him in honor of his new ways. During the dance, he cut in and danced with each of the three ladies who had been trying to teach him the errors of his ways. From one he slipped off her long diamond earrings, from a second her diamond necklace was lifted away, but me sister was unsure what the scoundrel took from the third. Sis thought that the earrings and necklaces that she and Ginny were wearing that evening, looked a lot like the ones from that show.

  

Now, as me twin described the thief’s antics, certain emotions awakened, rearing their tantalizing heads; my mind began wandering in some deep waters, pulled bout by some deep personal emotions. Cause I had been sitting on the couch with her, when as quite young children, we had first seen that episode.

 

As it happened my sister had been outside earlier playing dress up in on of mum’s old party gowns and was still wearing it, along with a set of costume pearls. Suddenly, that day, I wanted nothing more in the world than to lift the pearls she was wearing. I simmered over it for the rest of the program, getting to the point of actually laying my arm on the back of the couch, inching my fingers towards the clasp of her pearls laying there upon the back of her throat. But then the show ended, and I got no closer to stealing anything more than a touch of a really soft old evening gown. After the show ended, I warily suggested we go back outside and play Robin Hood (my sister has always been into his story).

We did, and as Sir Robin led her to his hideout, conveniently located through a thicket of Hawthorne’s, the pretty Maid Marion’s pearls mysteriously melted away.

  

That is when I had I had my epiphany, hitting me like a brick wall! Waiting till sis finished her story, I pointed out to Ginny, and asked the pair, If Ginny had been the third lady he had danced with, what jewelry do you think he would have lifted from her while dancing?

  

Brian , always the more pragmatic of the group, snorted, that’s stuff that only happens in stories and movies. I said I would bet it can be done, a quid says I can lift a piece of Ginny’s jewelry with her never noticing. Sis chimed in, you wouldn’t dare, but she was looking at me like she knew the answer already. Brian caught her tone, and took me up on it, betting me the quid that I couldn’t get away with lifting her necklace,( I liked his choice, it had been a necklace that “Sir Robin” had first lifted from me sisters neck that day in the woods long past).

  

At this time the music ended, and Ginny swished back to rejoin us. We drank and talked for a bit more, and I’m was all but certain Brian and my sister had all but forgotten the wager. But I hadn’t, nor had I been able to keep my eyes from studying the rhinestones Ginny had wrapped around her pretty throat. When a slow song started up, I rose and asked Ginny to a dance. I caught Brian’s eyes, and read the dare reflecting in them, so we were still on with the wager. Leading Ginny to the dance floor, we embraced, and danced to the pretty song, a slow one. Ginny was absolute pure heaven in my arms, and I found me self so entrapped that I never made an attempt upon her lovely rhinestone necklace.

  

As the song was ending, I caught a look from Brian across the dance floor, noticing that he smugly was looked at Ginny’s throat. I did not want to lose me quid on principle (I swear), so as the dance ended I held onto Ginny, waiting. Soon a second song started, disappointedly a more fast paced one with a Latin beat. I spun Ginny around onto the floor before she had time to catch a breath, we danced, like the song says:

 

And we… danced like a wave on the ocean, romanced

We were liars in love and we danced

Swept away for a moment by chance

And we danced, danced, danced

 

And dance we did, hot, furious and fast. A couple of times I spun Ginny around, and the poor girl already a bit tipsy, fell against me, giggling. About the third time I spun her, she stopped, and dropped backside into me and began to do this sort of gyrating move, slithering up and down my front side, with her hands held high above her head, her longish ginger hair had fallen over one shoulder, exposing her necklace in all its fine brilliance. As her warm, sweaty figure slipped up and down against mine, I watched the back of her throat, eyeing the necklace as it sparkled brilliantly in the dim lights. Studying intently the sparkly chain with it’s the hook in eye clasp.

  

She brought her hands down behind me back, crossing them behind me waist. My right hand went to the front of her waist, holding onto her squirming, satin slippery figure, pressing it tightly against me. My left hand went up to her shoulder, gliding along the glossy slick fabric of her black satin gown, until I reached her necklace. It only took seconds for my fingers to lift, and slip off the hook from its”eye” , letting the shimmering chain slither down the front side of Ginny’s satin clad breasts. My right hand left her waist, and travelled nimbly, tingling, all the way up the front until my fingers grasped the dangling chain. My left hand let go, and the necklace whisked down the front of her perking bosom, tightly covered by the glossy black satin bridesmaid gown. The whole bit of thievery took me only a few chords of the music, but it seemed a lot longer in the process. We finished out the song, me basking in the fact that my gyrating partner was innocently unaware that her shiny necklace was absent from around her throat, and now resided in her dance partners vest pocket.

  

We made our way back to the others, Brian had a smug look on his bearded face, I knew he was up to something. As I sat down, he whispered double it or nothing mate, that she notices it’s missing before we leave. I nodded, taking him up on it. So, the game was still on, and for the last two hours that we stayed at the reception, Brain waiting for Ginny to notice her missing necklace, I tried to distract her as much as I could, even with me sister constantly played with her necklace whenever she held Ginny’s attention, but the poor creature never caught on that her necklace had been lifted.

  

We finally left the reception after midnight and made our way along the ten city blocks back to the hotel where Ginny and my sister shared a joining room with Brian and meself. Ginny walked calmly with us, unaware of the devils that were us, keeping pace beside her. As were making our way through a short cut in a wooded Provincial park, we stopped in a small isolated glen and circled around Ginny. Sis was grinning as she asked poor unawares Ginny, So luv, whatever did happen to your necklace? Gin’s reaction was absolutely, rewardingly priceless.

  

Ginny, a relatively innocent soul, who is prone to believing most anything told to her, started, and her hand went to her throat, feeling about fruitlessly, as her rustling glossy gown and remaining jewels glistened dark in the full moons’ light. “M’ necklace, why it’s gone? , where did it go!, she pleaded helplessly, her thought patterns and speech a little slurred by her rather intoxicated condition. We than got into it, playing dumb along with her, and tried to figure out the “mystery” I said the last time I saw it was when that seedy bloke cut in, and I ran my hand up her back, feeling the shivers going down her spine, did the blighter touch you like that, then luv. No she said, then thought hard, no she repeated, he couldn’t have, he was a proper gentleman, and it was only rhinestone, like your sister said. My sister commented that the bloke may have not noticed no difference, and she held out her own necklace, I’m glad the bloke didn’t ask me to dance. No, Ginny shook her head, her long earrings flickering a frenzied fire out from her hair, no one could have lifted them like that, I’d have felt it….

  

She looked desperately around at us, then seeing the look on upon our faces, Ginny froze with the realization that we had all been up to something, and, then a smile of relief showed up on her pretty face, as I held up her necklace, sparkling in front of her eyes. A sly look of understanding that we had been up to something crept into those dazzling green eyes , as she told us now to spill it out.

  

We explained the whole tale as sis helped Ginny place her necklace back on. Ginny, with her usual good humor, said she had never noticed a thing, and it probably was a good thing we weren’t real thieves, because if her necklace had been real, it would have been worth a small fortune. And shame on us for having her believe it was that poor blighter in the red shirt.

  

We wouldn’t’ make very good thieves I agreed we drink too much. She just smiled, a curious gleam creeping up into those witchy green eyes of hers. Let’s get going before we meet a real thief then, urged my sister, all this talk about someone thinking our jewels are real is giving me the chills.

  

Our drunken little group then merrily, if not a little more guardedly, made our way home..

 

This next bit is my favorite.

 

We rode the elevator up to the boy’s room, as the girls called our room, where we drank beer, danced to music and talked on a bit about the reception. The girls stayed in dress and I happily soaked up the pretty picture the pair of admirably attractive girls presented with their long sheets of straight hair just hanging down, their diamonds sparkling and all other assorted frills enticing. About two hours later found Brian and myself sitting on the couch in kind of a hazy stupor while holding onto our beers. Ginny and my sister were standing directly in front of us, holding beers of their own and giggling over some girlish nonsense, the swaying of their long glossy black satin gowns slowly putting me to sleep.

  

Brain, draining a beer, got up to get another, bumping against my sister and playfully grabbing a handful. My sister started giggling at him as he sauntered off grinning, turning her figure so the brooch at the center of her gowns’ waistline almost hit me on the nose. Half asleep I reached over and lifted it up.

Looking up at the girls I saw that neither was paying no never mind towards me. Ginny, however, laid a hand on my twins shoulder, drawing her close so she could whisper some girlish secret about Brian. I continued on, and was able to undo the brooch, and slip it carefully off without notice. I slipped her jewel into my pocket; until I could think of what it was I was going to do with it to tease me twin sister.

  

Brian stopped on the way back and reset the music, a slow song. Sis went to him, and the pair started dancing. I rose and taking Ginny by the hand, followed suit, leading her to the bit of a dance floor we had cleared. She was again, pure heaven in my arms as my hands slipped liberally up and down her smooth, slinky gowned figure. Ginny smiled, I knew that smile, and realized that something was going on behind her pretty green eyes. She flicked back her sheet of ginger hair, and leaned against me. I saw you, she whispered, her voice putting a tickle in my ear. Saw me I asked, not getting it. I saw you lift that dame’s diamond brooch, Ginny said in a sultry voice as she looked over towards where my sister was dancing, (no, she was actually swooning), in Brian’s arms. You see that one over there, in the black dancing with the bearded gent? I looked over, as she continues, look at ‘er necklace, I have a fancy for it, and if you don’t want me to call security, I suggest you get it for me, darling, she said, like she was some old time actress in a movie. I loved the devilishness of Ginny’s role play idea and threw me whole heart and soul into it.

  

Check out the Sonia clip shortcut at the end of my tale( recommend viewing)

  

Now wide awake, I got fully into Ginny’s game. As we continued dancing my eyes watched Brian and me sister, taking careful inventory of all her sparkling jewelry. Sis turned, and caught my eyes looking her over, she blushed, and not knowing what was really going through my mind, smiled at me. As I smiled back, my eyes drinking her fetchingly attired figure up, I was imagining that all of her ample collection of rhinestones so prettily positioned on her figure, were real diamonds. And that I was an actual thief after her lovely sparklers. I looked into Ginny’s eyes. You have a deal miss, I whispered, making my voice deep and throaty, as I imagined meself as Humphrey Bogart type character in some shadowy film noir movie.

  

The song ended and a second, even slower one began playing. Brian and my sister were still locked into each other’s arms, but I felt that the time to make my move was now. Throwing Ginny a wink, I went over and cut in, Brian looked drunkenly at me like “whattsup chap,” but Ginny was right behind and swirled him away before he could properly react.

  

And as I took the pretty, wide eyed with innocence looking “dame” into my arms I found it exciting that she was oblivious to my intentions. Naïvely unaware, that in indifference to her own words earlier, someone did now want to nick the jewelry so merrily dangling from her svelte figure. Don’t forget at this point she was no longer my sister, but my sweet victim, and I was nothing more than a thief hungering after her bright baubles, albeit, a slightly inebriated thief!

  

I bided my time, appearing to look into my twins half opened eyes ( she was really lit by this time, as we all were) , my mind was working overtime on how to best approach my objective.

  

Employing the same method that the thief had used in the Gilligan’s Island episode to remove his dance partners necklace, I began to compliment my twin on how devastating her and Ginny looked both looked that evening (no lies), slowly moving my one hand up the slick material of the gown covering her back until I reached the dangling part of her hook and eye necklace with its’ glittering row of single “diamonds”. She ate it up, blushing and closing her eyes, tilting her head down, exposing even more of the back of her throat, and laying bare the chain of her “diamond” necklace. As she fawned over my words of (not false) praise, I subtly lifted up the chain of her necklace, holding her ever so her tightly around the waist. As I felt the heat emanating from her figure, I used my free left hands’ fingers to unhooked the clasp, and let the necklace fall over her one shoulder. Sis never felt it hanging, or noticed it as I peeled it off her chest (whisking along smooth as silk) and pulled it over her gown’s satin shoulder till it slipped sparkling down behind her. I held it hanging behind her back for a few turns, still pouring out the compliments, until I pocketed it, letting it join her purloined brooch.

  

Meanwhile, Brian had left Ginny to go to the loo, and I saw Ginny, who had been watching all of it, give me a wink. Then she turned and stole out the apartment door, her longish slinking gown slipping through behind her as she closed the door. I made ready to make some excuse to break away from my sister and head after her with my loot.

  

But just as I opened my mouth to make that excuse , Sis pulled her arms behind me head, and laid her own head back on my shoulder and closed her tired eyes, getting into the music’s deep beat. One of her longish rhinestone earrings just hung there sparkling, mocking me to touch it, and like Gingers diamonds, was ripe for the picking.

  

With the prize within my grasp, I momentarily forgot about the departing Ginny, and I made my move. I found meself trembling a bit, as I reached up and placed my hands gently alongside her ear, her eyes still shut, my victim smiled. The rest of the maneuver was surprisingly easy, as I glided my fingers down and slipped it off the earring in one effortless motion. The sparkling beauty came away from her sweaty ear as smoothly as an ice cube moves along a steaming hot grill ( I actually did have a thought like that). I held it in one fist for a bit, watching my victim, she had not felt so much as a tickle on her earlobe, as I had taken her earring. Relishing in my success, I looked at it dangling and shimmering in my hand behind her back. Then I secured her diamond away. I thought about trying for the other, but thought better of it, knowing Ginny was just waiting on the other side of the door.

  

I finished out the dance, taking my sisters hand with its dazzling bracelet and rings, and admired them while I kissed it. I’d better be off after Ginny I said, and then let go of her hand. Nice doing business with you I said, bemused as I watched the puzzlement creep into her eyes. That is how I left her.

  

However it was my turn to look puzzled as I went out, Ginny was nowhere to be seen. I quickly looked around, then headed to the elevator and rode down in it, alone at this early morning hour, to the lobby.

  

I arrived there, and at first the lobby appeared deserted, cept for a lonely desk clerk with her head buried in a novel. Then breathed a sigh of relief, there, around a corner, Ginny stood talking to some older lady wearing a garish grey pant suit, with this blue tinted helmet of curly hair covered by a large silk head scarf, and carrying an overlarge purse. I suddenly realized that now my anxiety had gone, another urge had taken its place. Ginny looked up, and smiles happily at me, and I smiled back, indicated that I had to go for a minute, and headed meself to the loo.

  

Coming out after I finished, I saw that the lobby was actually now really empty, not even the desk clerk was visible. Thinking Ginny may have gone back upstairs, I first went to the hotels double doors to chance a look outside onto the street below. I just caught sight of a wisp of black gown moving just out of sight past the stairs, on the now smoggy sidewalk below.

  

I headed out, and there was Ginny walking with the Blue haired stranger, they appeared to be looking for something. I started wondering if Ginny had invited this stranger to go on out walk with us? But no, apparently the blue haired lady in the unfortunate grey pantsuit had discovered her keys were missing, and thought they had dropped somewhere after getting out of a taxi just around the corner. And Ginny, bless her kind heated soul, had offered to help the distressed lady look for them.

  

As Ginny was telling me all this after I had caught up, the blue haired older lady , her cheerful face now stern, had started rummaging in her large shoulder bag, I sneaked a peek over her shoulder and saw that is contained quite an amazing assortment of items , ( no wonder it had to be so big). Suddenly she uttered an exclamation, found them she said, triumphantly pulling out an interesting assortment of skeleton type keys on a small ring. Happily smiling at Ginny, she pulled her into an enveloping hug for her efforts, before quickly leaving, but not without first giving me a sidelong glance with a disapproving look from her now pursed–lipped mouth as she passed. But I at the time put it down as her just being stressed out from believing she had misplaced her keys.

  

I am so glad she found her keys remarked Ginny, taking up me hand. That lady was ever so nice, she wanted to know where I had been dressed up all pretty like I am, and when I told her about the wedding, she said it must have been lovely. Then she admired me dress, and rhinestones. Then asked if me ruby ring was a gift from the bride. Liked your ring huh, I asked Ginny, my mind clearing up a little. Oh yes she said, lifted my hand, looked at it an everything!

Then the poor dear missed her keys, and asked if I could be a dear and help her look outside, and that was that until you showed up. (Looking outside for keys at 2:30 in the morning? I thought to myself) As I said ti Ginny, it is a pretty ring, and taking her arm, we started down the block together.

  

My mind, now somewhat attuned to the reality of things, went back to the blue haired lady and her large shoulder bag. Among some of various items I had seen had been a penknife, a length of old silk sash cord, small bundle of lacy handkerchiefs, and a small torch! Then add in the odd assortment of keys on her “misplaced” keyring, and put it all together, it all began to sum up to a new, slightly more sinister meaning of her intentions, in my take on the episode.

  

As we walked, I said nothing in reply to the happily chirping, richly attired girl walking beside me , as for the first time, and not the last, I wondered if something had been afoot with the Blue Haired, pursed mouthed lady that Ginny had seen as a kind older lady needed help, like the bird with a broken wing she had tried to help a few days past( a blue jay!). So was the blue haired lady, with the silk scarf and wearing a rather unisexual pantsuit, acting out the part of a “blue jay”, using her “broken wing” as a ruse to lure my Ginny safely away for her own nefarious reasons?

  

Surreptitiously, I carefully checked over Ginny from head to heeled toes as we walked, to make sure nothing was amiss. Her rhinestones were still safely all in their place, but I did not see the ruby ring, and me heart went still, and chills prickled down my spine! Bullocks! I swore under my breath, that pucker faced tart walked away with it. Ginny, I said, a little choked, she swirled facing me, her green eyes questioning, as she raised her hand to her perked breasts, and there it was, the small, but rather pricey, ruby ring she so loved wearing, the glittery darling had turned around on her finger so it was hidden from my view

.

 

I breathed a heavy sigh of relief, I just wanted to say how lovely you looked this evening my lass, I said saving myself. She smiled winningly, giving me a deep hug for my words. We walked on, as my beating heart slowed down, I convinced myself that maybe the incident of lost keys had all been harmless, and I was just being a worry-wort. I apologized silently for what I had called the fashion challenged blue haired lady in my mind. But I was still beginning to feel like ever a fool to have let Ginny, handsomely decked out as she was, out of my sight at this early hour of the morning.

  

I opened my mind and let all such thoughts flee my head, for the world was now ours, as we made our journey together, hand in hand. We ended up making a very long stroll in the Provincial Park, and reentering the same isolated, secret glen we had been in earlier, proceeded to continue acting out the role playing game we had started at the apartment.

  

Ginny went to the middle of the clearing to wait, pretending she was smoking, like a moll from a gangster movie. I circled and watched her sparkling figure, black in the glens shadows, move about a bit.

  

And as I did, my thoughts wondered a bit, and I remember reflecting ( not for the first time) how in the older black n whites, the heroine, or villainous, is always wearing gowns, elegant long gloves, and jeweled to the sparkling hilt. Then she walks alone to and then waits in some dark alley or other desolate spot for her contact, or hero to show up, much like Ginny was acting out now. So how is it that those fancy dressed and well jeweled unescorted dames, always manage to get to those spots, and are able to wait around in them alone, in those movies, and nary ever meet a ruffian who strips them of those pricy looking sparklers they are flaunting about? Just saying!

  

Saying a brief prayer that my thoughts were not tempting a fate of that type to occur to us now that I had been thinking it, I came out of the shadows and approached Ginny. Keeping my left hand in my pocket like I was carrying a heater. Hey sister, I said, been waiting long? No, she whispered, did you get the goods. Hot as ice I said proudly, producing the necklace and earring I had liberated from the dancing “dame”.

  

As I showed Ginny my take from “the dame”, she squealing over the fact I was able to take one of her diamond earrings, bonus she chanted. We laughed over what the “dames” reaction would be when the jewels were discovered missing. As we snickered, Ginny caught my eyes and then we got off on a tangent about jewel thieves in love, and ended up reenacting the “lure” scene from the movie ‘To Catch a Thief” ending up producing fireworks of our own making as Ginny lost all her jewels as well as her “innocence”.. We then made our way back home, as the cock crows, receiving a few odd looks from the occasional early morning lorry drivers.

  

And above all, I still remember feeling pretty bloody cocky as Ginny and I had sauntered our way to the park. And why not, I ask? Cause not only did I get to stroll about with the most captivating ginger haired lass, sparkling in fancy dress around, But I also had totally scored a hat trick in the jewelry lifting department, collecting two Quid to boot, and that’s what life is all about for us boys, winning the game, isn’t it?

 

So ends my story, of which I have written 2 versions.

My question is now this:

Which version, if one reads both, do you believe to be the truer?

Please leave a comment at the end of the story you believe is..

In appreciation,

Thank You

 

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In Appraisal

 

Tis story may be unique in its nature, but if not we would love to hear about it. Please leave a comment or drop an email ( or both) about you own experience.

Thank You

 

The Sonia clip shortcut ( recommend viewing)

youtu.be/HAZdjhNVjxk

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All rights and copyrights observed by Chatwick University, Its contributors, associates and Agents

 

The purpose of these chronological photos and accompanying stories, articles is to educate, teach, instruct, and generally increase the awareness level of the general public as to the nature and intent of the underlying criminal elements that have historically plagued humankind.

 

No Part of this can reprinted, duplicated, or copied be without the express written permission and approval of Chatwick University.

 

These photos and stories are works of fiction. Any resemblance to people, living or deceased, is purely coincidental.

As with any work of fiction or fantasy the purpose is for entertainment and/or educational purposes only, and should never be attempted in real life.

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Chronicles of lifting Light C (The Reception Game)

A forethought

“The wedding was a bit over the top. The bride wanted her girl’s dresses to be something they would wear out again. A nice thought, but the gowns she found were a little too long for anything but formal evening wear, according to our girls who were asked to be part of the bridal party. The maid of honour wore a red silk version; the six Bridesmaids wore theirs in black satin.” Each of the girls were also presented with a matching collection of Swarovski rhinestones “traditional classic darlings” ! The jewellery, when added to the girl’s ensemble, further enhanced the red carpet like atmosphere of the Bridal party coterie’!

 

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Intro of the story proper :

“A few years ago, “Ginny” was watching some type of show when I heard her squeal out. Our Golden Retriever ‘Sam’ meandered back in to see what all the fuss was about? I obediently followed. Ginny pointed out to us a model who was wearing, rather fetchingly I might add, a long black satin gown. That’s m’ gown Ginny exclaimed, you remember, the one I wore at “Sheila’s” wedding, the one where my necklace was sn…., But at that point her attention was diverted back to her program. Squirrel I teased as Sam and I watched with her.

 

It was a gown strikingly very similar in colour, cut, and material to the one worn by Ginny ( and me sister) at a chums wedding years before ( and winningly worn several times hence I might add). It is a pretty thing to behold my charming Ginny sporting it, and in its time, it has born witness to a few goings on that most ladies wearing a gown like that would never encounter…….”

 

Chronicles of lifting Light C

Story Proper

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This story is true, and is really pretty much told as it happened.

What we did may sound daft, but read and understand the circumstances, plus realize we all were pretty well lit up with drink.

 

I will plead guilty at having enhanced certain aspects of the story.

For indeed, truth can be stranger than fiction… and coincidences occur, both sweet and bitter….. as I’m sure someone once said.

 

So here goes it….

 

My twin sister and our friend “Ginny” were invited to join in a school chums bridal party. The groom didn’t have enough to go around so my sister’s boyfriend “Brian” and I were pressed, not unwillingly, into service.

 

As I stated earlier, the wedding and reception were both over the top posh. So much so that our opinions, and subsequent escapades, were still coming up amongst us as a topic of conversation at our local haunt The ‘Poet and the Peasant Pub’, kept by Brian’s Auntie and Uncle..

www.flickr.com/groups/poet_and_the_peasant__pub_/

 

The Wedding proper was held at the local Cathedral. A rather decadent place built with a hearty clash of gothic/ medieval styles ; with black stone towers, Lancet arches, and fly away buttresses.

 

Inside one finds white marble columns, oak pews blackened with age, intricate wood work and ghostly while statues. All lit with hanging diamond shaped antique glass lights and colourful lead glass stained windows depicting a horde of medieval era religious scenes.

 

I twas a fine backdrop for the rather glamoursly attired guests in attendance. The wedding ceremony itself would have been an interesting tale in and of itself, but that telling will await another day, for mine has its’ beginnings at the Reception.

 

The Reception was held in the basement, a grand place with an opulent ballroom, well stocked bar room and elegant dining area. The subterranean basement was decorated richly along the same grand lines as the interior of the ancient Cathedral above.

 

We were some time at the reception when my Ginny , who had been held up on her way back from the loo by a snobbish dowager feeling the need to criticise someone, regained her seat by plopping down with a loud woosh.

 

That was a chore, being picked apart by that “lovely !”creature. she exclaimed cynically, whilst adjusting her loose brooch. We all just smirked. I had received the same treatment from the lecturing prig earlier that evening.

  

Well, to be honest , my twin sister and Brian just actually were smirking at that. I believe my attention at the time was rather more occupied on the area where Ginny’s Brooch lay, which was the proper cause of my smirk! (naughty me)

 

Finished, Ginny than leaned against me sister, and, still reeling from being inappropriately chided, made a snide comment about the flimsy clasps on the shimmering jewellery they were wearing. My Sister, touching her necklace, told her, “ no worries, luv, no one would nick them anyways, they are only rhinestones”. Except my ring isn’t, said Ginny looking down at the ruby ring she was wearing on her pinky. My sister, thinking a minute, retorted “Then one never knows… “ , It looked like she was going to add something to that, but at that point the band restarted, and we joined the swarm of fancy dress gowns, silky dresses, suits and tuxes worn by the chic guests as they herded to the dance floor.

  

As we headed off, I was still perplexed about what had been going on in Sis’s head that made her come out with that reply, and I swear she had stolen a look at me while saying it. But as I had watched her pull at an earring to emphasize how loose the sparkling jewel was, a seed was planted in my head about a subject I myself had always found rather intriguing, pickpocketing jewelry!

  

Much later that evening, found Brian, me sister, and I alone, and probably more than a little drunk (always a precarious time with us). As Sis and Brain chatted on about a topic I had soon lost interest in, I started to watch Ginny, who had been asked to dance by some twit with shifty eyes in a red silk shirt, (open collared), who had rudely cut in on us. As I watched Ginny’s swishing gown liquidly move and flutter about in quite an interesting exhibition, I found meself mesmerized by the beckoning manner in which her healthy display of rhinestones were sparkling about( as they had been all evening). I looked back at my sister, and her own show of jewelry, also sparkling up nicely against the smooth black satin backdrop of her own matching gown..

 

Still not being able to shake me twin’s earlier comment about nicking jewels, nor its answer, out of my head , I waited for a lull in conversation to finally chance asking my twin about her comments.

 

She looked at me, having to think back a bit about the question, ( As I said, we were more drunk than sober by then), placing a nicely ringed finger to her lips, while regrouping her thoughts. Got it, she exclaimed! Proudly remembering what had triggered her memory, and with that she started to explain.

 

When she was a tyke of about 7, there was a show that she had seen on the tele that centered on this group of people trying to reform a thief. Believing that he had turned a new leaf, they threw a fancy dress dance for him in honour of his new ways. During the dance, he cut in and danced with each of the three ladies who had been trying to teach him the errors of his ways. From one he slipped off her long diamond earrings, from a second her diamond necklace was lifted away, but me sister was unsure what the scoundrel took from the third. Sis had reckoned that the earrings and necklaces that she and Ginny were wearing that evening, looked a lot like the ones worn by ( and nicked from) the ladies on that show.

  

Now, as me twin described the thief’s antics, certain emotions awakened, rearing their tantalizing heads; my mind began wandering in some deep waters, pulled bout by some deep personal emotions. Cause I had been sitting on the couch with her, when as quite young children, we had seen a repeat of that episode.

  

As it happened my sister had been outside earlier playing dress up in on of mum’s old party frocks and was still wearing it, along with a set of costume pearls. Suddenly, that day, I wanted nothing more in the world than to lift the pearls she was wearing. I simmered over it for the rest of the program, getting to the point of actually laying my arm on the back of the couch, inching my fingers towards the clasp of her pearls laying there upon the back of her throat. But then the show ended, and I got no closer to stealing anything more than a touch of a really soft old evening gown. After the show ended, I warily suggested we go back outside and play Robin Hood (my sister has always been into his story).

  

We did, and as Sir Robin led her to his hideout, conveniently located through a thicket of Hawthorne’s, the pretty Maid Marion’s pearls mysteriously melted away.

  

That is when I had I had my epiphany, hitting me like a brick wall! Waiting till sis finished her story, I pointed out to Ginny, and asked the pair, If Ginny had been the third lady he had danced with, what jeweles do you think he would have found easiest to lift from her while dancing?

  

Brian , always the more pragmatic of the group, snorted, that’s stuff that only happens in stories and movies.

 

I said I would bet it can be done, a quid says I can lift a piece of Ginny’s jewelry with her never noticing. Sis chimed in, you wouldn’t dare, but she was looking at me like she knew the answer already. Brian caught her tone, and took me up on it, betting me the quid that I couldn’t get away with lifting her necklace,( I liked his choice, it had been a necklace that “Sir Robin” had first lifted from me sisters neck that day in the woods long past).

  

At this time the music ended, and Ginny swished back to rejoin us. As we played mute about our plans, we welcomed the damsel back and acted like there had been nothing in the world goin on amongst us while she was out dancing.

 

We drank and talked for a bit more, and I was all but certain that Brian and my sister had all but forgotten the wager.

 

But I hadn’t, nor had I been able to keep my eyes from studying the glittery rhinestones Ginny had draped around her pretty throat. When a slow song started up, I rose and asked Ginny to a dance. I caught Brian’s eyes, and read the dare reflecting in them, so we were still on with the wager.

 

Leading Ginny to the dance floor, we embraced, and danced to the pretty song beginning to play, it twas a slow romantic one ( lady in red If I recall correctly). Ginny was absolute pure heaven in my arms, and I found me self so entrapped by her charms, that all ambitions to be a thief and make an attempt upon her lovely rhinestone necklace fell to the wayside.

  

As the song was ending, I caught a look from Brian across the dance floor, noticing that he smugly was looked at Ginny’s throat. I did not want to lose me quid on principle (I swear), so as the dance ended I held onto Ginny, waiting. Soon a second song started, disappointedly a more fast paced one with a Latin beat. I spun Ginny around onto the floor before she had time to catch a breath, we danced, like the song which played says:

  

And we… danced like a wave on the ocean, romanced

We were liars in love and we danced

Swept away for a moment by chance

And we danced, danced, danced

 

And dance we did, hot, furious and fast. A couple of times I spun Ginny around, and the poor girl already a bit tipsy, fell against me, giggling. About the third time I spun her, she stopped, and dropped backside into me and began to do this sort of gyrating move, slithering up and down my front side, with her hands held high above her head, her longish ginger hair had fallen over one shoulder, exposing her necklace in all its fine brilliance. As her warm, sweaty figure slipped up and down against mine, I watched the back of her throat, eyeing the necklace as it sparkled opulently in the dim lights. I started Studying, intently, the sparkly chain with it’s simple hook in eye clasp.

  

She brought her hands down behind me back, crossing them behind me waist. My right hand went to the front of her waist, holding onto her squirming, satin slippery sweating figure, pressing her warm body tightly against me.

 

My left hand went up to her shoulder, gliding along the glossy slick fabric of her black satin gown, until I reached her necklace. It only took seconds for my fingers to lift up, and slip off the hook from its”eye” , letting the shimmering chain slither down the front side of Ginny’s satin clad breasts. My right hand left her waist, and travelled nimbly, tingling, all the way up the front until my fingers grasped the dangling chain. My left hand let go, and the necklace whisked down the front of her perking bosom, tightly covered by the glossy black satin bridesmaid gown. The whole bit of thievery took me only a few chords of the music, but it seemed to be carried out in slow motion in the process.

 

We finished out the song, me basking in the fact that my gyrating partner was innocently unaware that her shiny necklace had been pinched, and were now residing in her dance partners vest pocket. I will admit feeling a twinge of regret that it no longer could be seen glittering from around its’ mistress’s now bare throat.

  

We made our way back to the others, Brian had a smug look on his bearded face, I knew he was up to something. As I sat down, he whispered double it or nothing mate, that she notices it’s missing before we leave. I nodded, taking him up on it.

 

So, the game was still on, and for the last two hours that we stayed at the reception poor Ginny became the unknowing centre of our somewhat devious game1

 

Brain, eagerly waiting for Ginny to notice her missing necklace, tried for the most part to remain mute. I sweated it a bit, but his saboteur’s tactics failed.

 

I’ll admit I hadn’t thought it out before agreeing, but what probably should have been a suckers bet, with a million ways for Ginny to notice her necklace was playing hooky, apparently was going with the long odds for me to win.

 

I sweated it a bit, butno-one else amongst the crowd pointed out, or even seemed to care that Ginny was no longer wearing her necklace! Even the bloke in the open collared re shirt, who managed to steal Ginny away for another dance, failed to say anything. Which made me a mite curious as to where his attention span had been focused.

 

Even when me sister tried to help Brian out by playing with her own jewelled necklace while she held Ginny’s attention during conversation in the ladies powder room, failed to cause a reaction!

 

Through all this, the poor creature never quite caught on that her necklace had been lifted from her throat ! Unscrupulously nicked away on a whimsical bet while innocently dancing!

 

And continued danced with me she did, all of us thoroughly enjoying the rest of the evening’s attractions, along with the bit of fun we were having at poor Ginny’s expense.! But I made damn sure that our poor victim had the time of her life for my repentance.

 

Then during our last slow dance, I did start to harbour the prickling thought of trying for another of Ginny’s baubles. But the thought of winning 2 quid from Brian, who in his time has won a bit more from me than I him, kept my thoughts of further thievery in check! I knew my spirit was weakening. Fortunately we left soon afterwards….

  

We finally left the reception after midnight and made our way along the ten city blocks back to the hotel where Ginny and my twin sister shared a joining room with Brian and meself.

 

Ginny walked calmly with us, unaware of the picaresque devils that were us, keeping pace beside her. As were making our way through a short cut in a wooded Provincial park, we stopped in a small isolated glen and circled around Ginny. Sis was grinning as she asked poor unawares Ginny; So luv, whatever did happen to your necklace? Gin’s reaction was absolutely, rewardingly priceless.

  

Ginny, a relatively innocent soul, who is prone to believing most anything told to her, started, and her hand went to her throat, feeling about fruitlessly, as her rustling glossy gown and remaining jewels glistened dark in the full moons’ light.

 

“M’ necklace, why it’s gone? , where did it go!, she pleaded helplessly, her thought patterns and speech a little slurred by her rather intoxicated condition. We than got into it, playing dumb along with her, and tried to figure out the “mystery” I said the last time I saw it was when that seedy bloke cut in, and I ran my hand up her back, feeling the shivers going down her spine, did the blighter touch you like that, then luv. No she said, then thought hard, no she repeated, he couldn’t have, he was a proper gentleman, and it was only rhinestone, like your sister said.

 

I don’t know said Brian, never trust any gent who doesn’t wear a tie to fancy dress! He had to ‘ave been up to no good, that one!

 

My sister then commented that the bloke may have not noticed no difference, and she held out her own necklace, I’m glad he didn’t ask me to dance.

 

No, Ginny shook her head, her long earrings flickering a frenzied fire out from her let down ginger hair, no one could have lifted them like that, I’d have felt it….I’m sure of that…!

  

She looked desperately around at us, then seeing the look on upon our faces, Ginny froze with the realization that we had all been up to something, and, then a smile of relief showed up on her pretty face, as I held up her necklace, sparkling in front of her eyes. A sly look of understanding that we had been up to something crept into those dazzling green eyes , as she told us now to spill it out.

  

We explained the whole tale as Sis helped Ginny place her necklace back on. Ginny, with her usual good humor, said she had never noticed a thing, and it probably was a good thing we weren’t real thieves, because if her necklace had been diamonds, it would have been worth a small fortune. And shame on us for having her believe it was that poor blighter in the red shirt.

  

We wouldn’t’ make very good thieves I agreed we drink too much. She just smiled, a curious looking gleam creeping up into those witchy green eyes of hers. Let’s get going before we meet a real thief then, urged my sister, all this talk about someone thinking our jewels are real is giving me the right chills.

  

Our drunken little group then merrily, if not a little more guardedly, made our way home..

 

This next bit is my favorite.

 

We rode the elevator up to the boy’s room, as the girls called our room, where we drank beer, danced to music and talked on a bit about the reception. The girls stayed in dress and I happily soaked up the pretty picture the pair of admirably attractive girls presented with their long sheets of straight hair now just hanging down, their “diamonds” sparkling and all other assorted frills enticing.

 

About two hours later found Brian and myself sitting on the couch in kind of a hazy stupor while holding onto our beers. Ginny and my sister were standing directly in front of us, holding beers of their own and giggling over some girlish nonsense, the hypnotic swaying of their longish glossy black satin gowns slowly putting me to sleep.

  

Brain, draining his beer, got up to get another, bumping against my sister and playfully grabbed a handful. My sister started giggling at him as he sauntered off grinning, turning her figure so the brooch at the centre of her gowns’ waistline almost wacked me on the nose. Half asleep I reached over and gingerly lifted it up.

 

Looking up at the girls I saw that neither was paying no never mind towards me. Ginny, however, laid a hand on my twins shoulder, drawing her close so she could whisper some girlish secret about Brian. I continued on, and was able to undo the brooch, and slip it carefully off without notice. I slipped her jewel into my pocket; waiting until I could think ,now that I did the deed, just hpw I would tease her about it.

  

Brian stopped on the way back and reset the music, a slow song came up. Sis went to him, and the pair started dancing. I rose and taking Ginny by the hand, followed suit, leading her to the bit of a dance floor we had cleared. She was again, pure heaven in my arms and my hands slipped liberally up and down her smooth, slinky gowned figure.

 

Ginny smiled! I knew that smile, and realized that something was going on behind her pretty green eyes.

 

She flicked back her sheet of ginger hair, and leaned against me. I saw you, she huskily whispered, her voice putting a tickle in my ear. Saw me I asked, not getting it. I saw you lift that dame’s diamond brooch, Ginny said in a sultry voice as she looked over towards where my sister was dancing, (no, she was actually swooning), in Brian’s arms.

 

Now mate, you see that one over there, in the black dancing with the bearded gent? I looked over, as she continues, look at ‘er necklace, I have a fancy for diamonds, and if you don’t want me to call security, I suggest you get hers for me, darling, she said with conspiracy like tones, acting like she was some old time actress in a movie. I loved the devilishness of Ginny’s role play idea and it did not take much to toss me whole heart and soul into the assignment!.

  

Check out the Sonia clip shortcut at the end of my tale( recommend viewing)

  

Now wide awake, I got fully into Ginny’s game. As we continued dancing, my eyes watched Brian and me sister, taking careful inventory of all the “dames” sparkling jewelry. Sis turned, and caught my eyes looking her over, she blushed, and not knowing what was really going through my mind, smiled at me. As I smiled back, my eyes drinking her fetchingly attired figure up!

 

I was imagining that all of her ample collection of rhinestones so prettily positioned on her figure, were real diamonds. And that I was an actual thief plotting to nick her lovely sparklers. I looked into Ginny’s eyes. You have a deal miss, I whispered, making my voice deep and throaty, as I imagined meself as some, albeit drunk, Humphrey Bogart type character in some grittingly shadowy film noir style black and white movie.

  

The song ended and a second, even slower one began playing. Brian and my sister were still locked into each other’s arms, but I felt that the time to make my move was now. Throwing Ginny a wink, I went over and cut in, Brian looked drunkenly at me like “whattsup chap,” but Ginny was right behind and swirled him conveniently away before he could properly react.

  

And as I took the pretty, wide eyed with innocence looking “dame” into my arms I found it exciting that she was oblivious to my nefarious intentions. Naïvely unaware, that in indifference to her own words earlier, someone did now want to nick the jewelry which was quite so merrily dangling from her svelte figure. Now, don’t forget at this point to me she was no longer my sister, but a sweet innocent victim weighted down with desirable loot. And I? I was nothing more than a suave thief deliciously hungering after her bright baubles, albeit, a slightly inebriated suave thief!

  

I bided my time, appearing to look into my twins/victims half opened eyes ( she was really lit by this time, as we all were) , my mind was working overtime on how the best approach to reach my objective. Then it came to me, quite clearly, and so Bob became my uncle, and I began his suggested approach…. And if I would have dared say so at the time, I executed my bit of jewel thievery like a pro….That is if there are actually pros at this sort of thing1?

  

Employing the same method that I remembered the thief using in the Gilligan’s Island episode to remove his dance partners necklace, I began to compliment my twin on how devastating her and Ginny looked both looked that evening (no lies), slowly moving my one hand up the slick material of the gown covering her back as I whispered my praise. Easily I reached the dangling part of her hook and eye necklace with its’ glittering rows of “diamonds”. She ate it up, blushing and closing her eyes, naively cooperating by tilting her head down, exposing even more of the back of her throat, and laying bare the chain of her “diamond” necklace. As she fawned over my words of (not false) praise, I subtly lifted up the chain of her necklace, whilst my free hand held her ever so her tightly around the waist. For the second time that evening I could feel the heat emanating from my victims squirming figure. As well as again feeling me own heart pounding a storm.

  

I gently used my free left hands’ fingers to unhooked the clasp, and let the necklace fall over her one shoulder. Sis never felt it hanging, or noticed it as I peeled it off her chest (whisking along her gown smooth as silk) and pulled it over her gown’s satin shoulder till it slipped sparkling down behind her. I held it hanging loose behind her back for a few turns, still pouring out the compliments, until I pocketed it, letting it join her purloined brooch.

  

Meanwhile, Brian had left Ginny to go to the loo, and I saw Ginny, who had been eagerly watching all of it, give me a wink. Then she turned and stole out the apartment door, her longish slinking gown slipping through behind her as she closed the door. I made ready to make some excuse to break away from my sister and head after her with my loot.

  

But just as I opened my mouth to make that excuse , Sis pulled her arms behind me head, and laid her own head back on my shoulder and closed her tired eyes, getting into the music’s deep beat. One of her longish rhinestone earrings just hung there sparkling, mocking me to touch it, and like Gingers diamonds, I saw them as quite ripe for the picking.

  

With the prize within my grasp, I momentarily forgot about the departing Ginny, and I made my move. I found meself trembling a bit, as I reached up and placed my hands gently alongside her ear, her eyes still shut, my victim smiled prettily. The rest of the manoeuvre was surprisingly easy, as I glided my fingers down and slipped it off the earring in one effortless motion. The sparkling beauty came away from her sweaty ear as smoothly as an ice cube moves along a steaming hot grill ( I actually did have a thought like that). I held it in one fist for a bit, watching my victim, she had not felt so much as a tickle on her earlobe, as I had removed her earring. Relishing in my success, I looked at it dangling and shimmering in my hand behind her back. Then, as I secured her diamonds away, I thought about trying for the other. But thought better of it, knowing Ginny was just waiting on the other side of the door.

  

I finished out the dance, taking my sisters hand with its dazzling bracelet and rings, and admired them while I kissed it, the “Dames” Bracelet tantalizing slipped down along her wrist and brushed against me knuckles. At that moment, we both heard the toilet flushing, and my twin looked over her shoulder laughing. As she did do, I saw an opportunity opening up and taking her dangling diamonded bracelet in me fingers, tugged it down ever so discreetly. Surprisingly the clasp popped opened ( right about being flimsy luv, I silently agreed with my twin’s earlier statement)!

  

I daringly pulled it free from around her wrist and slipped it in me pocket just as she turned back around to face her dance partner. I could see in her eyes that she had not felt nor noticed anything outta place. I’d better be off after Ginny I said, clearing me throat, and then , with no fanfare, let go of her hand. It dropped to her side, rings flashing, purloined bracelet gone from where it had, with cheeky regality, had been holding shimmering court all evening.

 

Nice doing business with you I said, bemused as I watched the puzzlement creep into her half awake eyes while I backed away from her towards the door.

 

And that chaps, is how I left her. With my grainy black and white movie still playing out in my mind. She just was standing there puzzled, a wealthy lady in fancy dress, unknowingly watching the dashing stranger leave with the “fortune” in jewels she thought she still was wearing. She innocently watched me as I left the room with her “diamonds” in my scoundrel’s possession!

  

However, it was my turn to look puzzled as I went out, Ginny was nowhere to be seen! I quickly looked around, then headed to the elevator and rode down in it, alone at this early morning hour, to the lobby.

  

I arrived there, and at first the lobby appeared deserted, cept for a lonely desk clerk with her head buried in a novel. Then breathed a sigh of relief, there, around a corner, Ginny stood talking to some older lady wearing a garish grey pant suit, with this blue tinted helmet of curly hair covered by a large silk head scarf, and carrying an overlarge purse. I suddenly realized that now my anxiety had gone, another urge had taken its place. Ginny looked up, and smiles happily at me, and I smiled back, indicated that I had to go for a minute, and headed meself to the loo.

  

Coming out after I finished, I saw that the lobby was actually now really empty, not even the desk clerk was visible. Thinking Ginny may have gone back upstairs, I first went to the hotels double doors to chance a look outside onto the street below. I just caught sight of a wisp of black gown moving just out of sight past the stairs, on the now smoggy sidewalk below.

  

I headed out, and there was Ginny walking with the Blue haired stranger, they appeared to be looking for something. I started wondering if Ginny had invited this stranger to go on out walk with us? But no, apparently the blue haired lady in the unfortunate grey pantsuit had discovered her keys were missing, and thought they had dropped somewhere after getting out of a taxi just around the corner. And Ginny, bless her kind heated soul, had offered to help the distressed lady look for them.

  

As Ginny was telling me all this after I had caught up, the blue haired older lady , her cheerful face now stern, had started rummaging in her large shoulder bag, I sneaked a peek over her shoulder and saw that is contained quite an amazing assortment of items , ( no wonder it had to be so big). Suddenly she uttered an exclamation, found them she said, triumphantly pulling out an interesting assortment of skeleton type keys on a small ring. Happily smiling at Ginny, she pulled her into an enveloping hug for her efforts, before quickly leaving, but not without first giving me a sidelong glance with a disapproving look from her now pursed–lipped mouth as she passed. But I at the time put it down as her just being stressed out from believing she had misplaced her keys.

  

I am so glad she found her keys remarked Ginny, taking up me hand. That lady was ever so nice, she wanted to know where I had been dressed up all pretty like I am, and when I told her about the wedding, she said it must have been lovely. Then she admired me dress, and rhinestones. Then asked if me ruby ring was a gift from the bride. Liked your ring huh, I asked Ginny, my mind clearing up a little. Oh yes she said, lifted my hand, looked at it an everything!

Then the poor dear missed her keys, and asked if I could be a dear and help her look outside, and that was that until you showed up. (Looking outside for keys at 2:30 in the morning? I thought to myself) As I said ti Ginny, it is a pretty ring, and taking her arm, we started down the block together.

  

My mind, now somewhat attuned to the reality of things, went back to the blue haired lady and her large shoulder bag. Among some of various items I had seen had been a penknife, a length of old silk sash cord, small bundle of lacy handkerchiefs, and a small torch! Then add in the odd assortment of keys on her “misplaced” keyring, and put it all together, it all began to sum up to a new, slightly more sinister meaning of her intentions, in my take on the episode.

  

As we walked, I said nothing in reply to the happily chirping, richly attired girl walking beside me , as for the first time, and not the last, I wondered if something had been afoot with the Blue Haired, pursed mouthed lady that Ginny had seen as a kind older lady needed help, like the bird with a broken wing she had tried to help a few days past( a blue jay!). So was the blue haired lady, with the silk scarf and wearing a rather unisexual pantsuit, acting out the part of a “blue jay”, using her “broken wing” as a ruse to lure my Ginny safely away for her own nefarious reasons?

  

Surreptitiously, I carefully checked over Ginny from head to heeled toes as we walked, to make sure nothing was amiss. Her rhinestones were still safely all in their place, but I did not see the ruby ring, and me heart went still, and chills prickled down my spine! Bullocks! I swore under my breath, that pucker faced tart walked away with it. Ginny, I said, a little choked, she swirled facing me, her green eyes questioning, as she raised her hand to her perked breasts, and there it was, the small, but rather pricey, ruby ring she so loved wearing, the glittery darling had turned around on her finger so it was hidden from my view

.

 

I breathed a heavy sigh of relief, I just wanted to say how lovely you looked this evening my lass, I said saving myself. She smiled winningly, giving me a deep hug for my words. We walked on, as my beating heart slowed down, I convinced myself that maybe the incident of lost keys had all been harmless, and I was just being a worry-wort. I apologized silently for what I had called the fashion challenged blue haired lady in my mind. But I was still beginning to feel like ever a fool to have let Ginny, handsomely decked out as she was, out of my sight at this early hour of the morning.

  

I opened my mind and let all such thoughts flee my head, for the world was now ours, as we made our journey together, hand in hand. We ended up making a very long stroll in the Provincial Park, and reentering the same isolated, secret glen we had been in earlier, proceeded to continue acting out the role playing game we had started at the apartment.

  

Ginny went to the middle of the clearing to wait, pretending she was smoking, like a moll from a gangster movie. I circled and watched her sparkling figure, black in the glens shadows, move about a bit.

  

And as I did, my thoughts wondered a bit, and I remember reflecting ( not for the first time) how in the older black n whites, the heroine, or villainous, is always wearing gowns, elegant long gloves, and jeweled to the sparkling hilt. Then she walks alone to and then waits in some dark alley or other desolate spot for her contact, or hero to show up, much like Ginny was acting out now. So how is it that those fancy dressed and well jeweled unescorted dames, always manage to get to those spots, and are able to wait around in them alone, in those movies, and nary ever meet a ruffian who strips them of those pricy looking sparklers they are flaunting about? Just saying!

  

Saying a brief prayer that my thoughts were not tempting a fate of that type to occur to us now that I had been thinking it, I came out of the shadows and approached Ginny. Keeping my left hand in my pocket like I was carrying a heater. Hey sister, I said, been waiting long? No, she whispered, did you get the goods. Hot as ice I said proudly, producing the necklace and earring I had liberated from the dancing “dame”.

  

As I showed Ginny my take from “the dame”, she squealing over the fact I was able to take one of her diamond earrings, bonus she chanted. Playing a thief’s role, I kept mum about the bracelet, no honour amongst thieves I thought mischievously .

We laughed over what the “dames” reaction would be when the jewels were discovered missing. As we snickered, Ginny caught my eyes and then we got off on a tangent about jewel thieves in love, and ended up reenacting the “lure” scene from the movie ‘To Catch a Thief” ending up producing fireworks of our own making as Ginny lost all her jewels as well as her “innocence”.. We then made our way back home, as the cock crows, receiving a few odd looks from the occasional early morning lorry drivers.

  

And above all, I still remember feeling pretty bloody cocky as Ginny and I had sauntered our way to the park. And why not, I ask? Cause not only did I get to stroll about with the most captivating ginger haired lass, sparkling in fancy dress around, But I also had totally scored a hat trick in the jewelry lifting department, collecting two Quid to boot, and that’s what life is all about for us boys, winning the game, taint it?

 

So ends my story

Please leave a comment at the end of the story if you rather liked the telling..

  

The Sonia clip shortcut ( recommend viewing)

youtu.be/HAZdjhNVjxk

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Please consider leaving a comment at the end of the story if you rather liked the telling..

"If you imagine someone who is brave enough to withdraw all his projections, then you get an individual who is conscious of a pretty thick shadow. Such a man has saddled himself with new problems and conflicts. He has become a serious problem to himself, as he is now unable to say that they do this or that, they are wrong, and they must be fought against… Such a man knows that whatever is wrong in the world is in himself, and if he only learns to deal with his own shadow he has done something real for the world. He has succeeded in shouldering at least an infinitesimal part of the gigantic, unsolved social problems of our day." - Carl Jung, 1939

 

Rockport Beach, 210 Seabreeze Dr, Rockport, TX 78382

Chronicles of lifting Light :

Tales from The Poet and the Peasant

 

There is a certain daring “edge” in acting out a role playing game on a partner(s) in public, especially if (in our case) one favors pickpocketing.

It’s a certain adrenaline thrill, both addictive and desirable, that increases up until the “mark” is relived of one or more of her dangling valuables. Whether its carried out with a simple bump, a lift conveyed while, say dancing, or a squeeze play maneuvered with a second player, it all creates and holds a level of excitement most thrilling in its nature, quite erotic within its scope.

 

This Chronicle contains short essays on pickpocketing games played solely within our group over the past few years.

 

These were games only, done with full knowledge and consent of all the players ( with a couple of exceptions where the parties involved were not informed of the actual happenings until sometime after the fact.)

Any articles of jewelry lifted were returned to their original owners, albeit sometimes those owners at first thought the jewelry being returned had just simply fallen away.

The actual facts have been stretched, padded and enhanced, due primarily to the significant detail that I rather like those in my immediate circle, and in order to keep them liking me, have agreed to “put meat on the bone” so to speak, when putting pen to paper.

This journal is far from complete, and additional stories will be added as they are played out.

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The “Poet and the Peasant” Is a little backwater pub owned by Brian’s Aunt and Uncle. It’s a laid back place, music (mostly canned) , the usual caste of regulars ,Including us, and a generous section of ales and other “demon” drink.

The pub is housed in an ancient old building with all sorts of old Victorian era objects, found and given a home in the pub’s numerous nooks and crannies. Including the skull of poor Erik. Erik was a 17th century poet and balladeer who supposedly was beheaded for making several torrid lyrics about a certain Saxon king. His grinning skull sits high up in a shelf along a balustrade, usually with a cigar clamped in his jaws. Couldn’t tell how many times someone who had more than his fill of drink has tried to light it for the poor blighter. The pub is a regular howl around Halloween, thanks to Erik, who has obtained quite a degree of notability, despite being dead for all these long years.

Basically, Erik aside, the “Poet and the Peasant” is a great place to hang out and make plans with a pint in hand.

 

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Opening Act

Atonement

We were heading to a small resort that we once had stayed at for a wedding and reception. It was Just “Ginny” and I on a 4 day escape from reality. We were passing through one of the small towns on the way, when Ginny spotted a dress shoppe, with several mannequins wearing evening frocks. She had to stop, we had a function the next month and she had “nothing to wear”( Liar I thought grinning).

 

We went inside and on a “gently worn” rack she pulled out this long string sleeved satin number and tried it on. The young clerk said it was patterned after the one in the movie atonement ( which neither of us had seen) but its rich deep green( Irish green the clerk called it, which I really had no idea was a colour) really set off Ginny’s long copper hair, and I liked the way her hair laid down her bare backside.

 

We arrived at the resort in early afternoon and claimed our suite( paid for by an anniversary gift) and set out to explore the place. The resort was packed, and we found out that there were 2 evening wedding receptions taking place on Saturday. An Idea began to take seed and as we walked I found a way to bring it into conversation.

 

Ginny had brought her rhinestones ( see Album Chronicles of lifting Light, B) for a bit of date roleplay in our suite some chosen evening of our stay. I suggested that she should give her gown and the rhinestones a try in public. Where she asked? I than laid out my game plan and a smile crept across her face, lit up by the sun poking through the trees on the wooded path we had been walking. Ginny liked to dress up, and I used that trump card to my advantage.

 

At around 5pm I slipped into the larger of the two receptions (crashed if you like) and wondering over to the bar I got a drink and waited, nursing it. I was reasonably presentable in a suit jacket, slacks, silk shirt and satin tie. As I waited I found myself pretty much unnoticed, which was a far cry from what Ginny encountered when she cautiously entered about fifteen minutes later, green gown swirling, rhinestones all a glitter. It didn’t take long for the sharks to start circling. One lad started a conversation, and I watched her squirm a little, before putting my drink down and coming to my damsel’s rescue. I had to literally peel the bloke away from her. We went onto the dance floor, pretending like we had never met. As we danced through several songs I could tell by the look in Ginny’s eyes that she was feeling the same fire within that I was. Ready for part 2 ? I asked, she got a surprised look in her eyes, and began to check herself, uh uh I said, not till we leave. We went out together; I spied the bloke watching us from a table, and smirked to meself over his look of frustration.

 

Outside we started to walk along the promenade, joining along with several other ladies, charming in their in gowns and frills, with their tuxedoed escorts, escapees all of us from the receptions. Ginny felt exceptionally good as, with my arm around her, she cuddled into my side while we walked some distance. But our bliss was not long, when Ginny , looking back, said there was a hotel security cop heading our way. Damn I thought, pinched for crashing the reception.

 

The rent-a-cop came up to us, and placing a firm grip upon my shoulder(or tried, I was a good foot taller, where do they find these blokes?) talked directly to Ginny. Everything alright then Miss, he questioned Ginny, trying to sound professional, and he almost pulled it off, except he squeaked on the word Miss.

 

Why yes, officer Ginny said, pouring on the charm( which is a quite frightful weapon in her capable hands), thank you for your lovely concern, but why do you ask? I received a report that this man may have been bothering you, Ma’am he said , no squeaks this time. He looked at me, I just grinned back at him, waiting for Ginny to belt it out of the park. She smiled, her green eyes brite, and laying a hand on the “officers” chin, told him how adorable his concern was for her safety, but her husband and she made sure he saw her ring, is really not that much of a bother most of the time. Husband he started, than stopped, caught his embarrassment nicely, then tried to save it, but Miss, I heard you had lost a necklace.

Whatever reaction he had hoped by saying this, it was not the one he got. Oh that, she said, the clasp broke, so my husband took it for safe keeping, really, where would I have put it, and she stepped back and let him look her over for evidence of supporting her statement. Game, Set and Match, I smirked to myself!

With the way she looked in that satin gown, and her charm at full output, no mere mortal male would have been able to stand a chance. Well, he choked out, all’s good then isit, and releasing my shoulder; he turned heel, and walked off hurriedly, like a scolded puppy with its tail between its legs. Ginny giggled, well played I told her, well played. And, again with my arm around her and Ginny cuddling in, we continued our stroll, with Ginny letting out the occasional chortal of laughter over the whole incident.

  

We reached an overlook over the lake, where a pair of swans was meandering about. A young lady in a long white dress with a glittering bracelet around one wrist, was walking along the path that edged along the lake. The swans were near her, reminding me of a tele commercial I had seen long ago ( If anyone else remembers it please leave a comment).

 

Ginny caught me looking, wanna do the path luv, she whispered with in a most beguiling manner. We did so, and eventually found a rather isolated little nook behind a hedge grow. Here I will have to leave to the readers imagination what transpired there, for the only witnesses were the two of us, and a rather surprised chippy who crawled out of his hole for a gander…

 

On our way back we once again stopped at the overlook. Time to tally up I said. Ginny smiled and opening her purse pulled out a scrap of paper. She showed it to me, on it was written the word necklace. Lucky guess, did you feel me take it I asked. Of course she lied; I could have done it better. Wanna bet I teased. Maybe someday we’ll see she responded. Now the way the game worked was that I pretended to be a light fingered jewel thief, with my eyes on the lady in green’s jewels. It was my objective to lift a piece of Ginny’s jewellery some point in the evening..

 

Ginny agreed to it on the condition that beforehand she would write down a piece of jewellery on a piece of paper, if it matched the piece I had lifted, than I could decide what we would do the next evening, if not, she would decide. So later, as we had a few drinks in a nearby pub ( still dressed in “costume”) I (the winner) outlined the plans for the next evening.

 

So the following evening, after a rather nice feast by the fireplace in the resorts great room, we found ourselves once again in a bar ( this time the resorts lounge). I was wearing the same suit, and had Ginny’s purloined necklace in my jacket pocket. Ginny was wearing a black satin blouse, ¾ sleeved, with long white and blacked stripped skirt. She wore her gold jewellery, and her long hair was up, held by rhinestone clips. At one point she excused herself to the loo, and when she returned took the chair next to me, and started to come on to me. I played along and after a few drinks, and dances, she led me out to the lobby.

 

Making way outside to the long wooden walkaway of the promenade, we began our way along it. Finding an isolated bench, we began to make out, as if we were strangers who had just met. After a long (glorious) while, we stood( wobbly) and made our way down to the lake, and continued our light petting.

 

At one point Ginny stopped, and looking me in the eye, said, well sir, its been fun, but id better go. Immediately I patted my pocket, the necklace was gone. Naughty I said, distracting me on the bench hussy, I teased. Her eyes got a gleam, follow me she said. We retraced our steps, hand in hand, and she led me to the the bench, and then surprisingly passed it. We regained the lobby, and she stopped by a corner, where a larger fern like plant sat in a rather big ceramic pot. Reaching in, she pulled out the necklace. Very good I said, never felt you take it.

 

So, I win then, she smirked. Yes I agreed, I had guessed wrong by thinking she had picked my pocket on the bench. So let’s go an collect me winnings then, sir, she ordered me, her eyes large and hungry. As we made our way I tried to get her to tell me when she had lifted the necklace, but she just placed a secret little smile on her lips, and remained silent on the subject….

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Act 2

Squeeze Play

 

Anyone who has taken the bother to riffle through my earlier Chronicles of Lifting Light, knows I have a twin sister who at times past has been my foil to practice upon. Well, I will leave it up to you to decide who the foil was in this tale.

  

We were all hanging out at the pub (“Poet and the Peasant” of course) one evening, the four of us, being the silly selves that mid- twenties youth are prone to being, especially when alcohol is involved.

 

We were trying to drink away the memories of what our previous week of work had given us, and were well on our way to meeting that objective, when a song from the band Cold Play come on. Ginny had asked my sister who it was, and instead of answering right away, she gave something a bit of thought, then my sister started smirking. Cold Play, like squeeze Play , remember “Ginny?”

 

Both Girls just started giggling, “Brian” just got a sullen look at the memory, and I, I just reflected…..

 

In our University years, my sister worked part time for a company that raised funds for charities, like OXFAM, etc. Among the various types of events were a couple of “Black Tie” affairs that I enjoyed because it gave Brian and I the chance to escort my Sister and Ginny ( the girls ever beautiful in fancy dress) to attend them.

 

Now, my sister had this co-worker,”Shiela”, who was absolute vinegar to my sister’s honey, hell, she was vinegar to any pretty female’s honey! She was a squawker, a squealer, and a backstabbing slag, in other words, not a very nice girl atoll. She was also was twice divorced from wealthy young scions who could not spot a gold digger for the life of them until they had been broadsided along the head with her gilded shovel.

 

During one warm late Autumn we were attending one of the Charity Dances being held in the big city proper. They had a pair of bands lined up, one kind of a Disco’ish throwback, and for later, a proper one that played a more romantic beat, one that called for slow dancing. The Girls were more into the Disco then we males were( a feeling that affected most of us in attendance) and the floor was flooded with a gaggle of swishing dresses and gowns dancing and swirling around to the frantic beat of the music, all performed with swirling lights in the darkened, smog filled dance floor, while the guys just sat around enjoying the show being put on.

 

As Brian and I watched the provocative females on the floor dancing, we noticed that our girls were slowly moving out amongst the throng of pretty dancers, rather than maintaining one area. Soon they had moved next to “Shiela”, who was dancing with this cousin of hers. Now I found this surprising, because Sis and Ginny had been throwing daggers with their eyes at “Shiela” all evening. She had been sitting with her wealthy new boyfriend, who was always bending to her demands, as evidenced by the expensive new finery she was sporting, which really had gotten a certain Twins goat. So it was with some puzzlement that when her cousin took a breather, Ginny and my twin slipped in to take her place, moving in rhythm with the now quite intoxicated “Shiela”.

 

Sis was facing “Shiela” and Ginny was behind her, all three of them gyrating their arms, hands and most of their other body parts in motion, up down and all around each other , so close at times that you would have had an effort at squeezing a hand between them.

 

What’s that pair up to now? Brain questioned me, as if I had a hand in it, I just shook my head, knowing only that I wanted to be in the middle of that sandwich instead of “Shiela”, but as it turned out, good thing I wasn’t.

 

We watched as the long song went on, with its deep bass beat that almost sounded like it had been lifted from some horror flick. Ginny and Sis continued to revolve, twist and swirl around the guileless “Shiela” as their colourfully brite (slinky) dresses shimmered in a most provocative fashion, bathed as they were caught by the dimly lit, smoke filled, dance floors blue strobes. A few times “Shiela” seemed to lose her footing, and fell against my Sister, who I thought took it surprisingly well as she gently steadied her foe.

 

Then the song ended, and all three girls laughed and giggled, actually hugged one another. I heard Brian letting out an chiding snort, I , well I was still just mesmerized by the whole act. Ginny and My Sister than walked the slightly dizzy “Shiela” back to her table, even going so far as to help her set down, before turning and heading back to our table. Both of them wearing chuff grins like the kittens that had eaten the canary.

 

Wotcher?, said Brian questioning their look. Oh God I thought, knowing the answer, for I had been watching “Shiela” as the girls had left and approached. My sister, looking around, held out her hand and opened her fist. There, all balled up and glittering, was the expensive diamond pendent of the set of matching diamonds that “Shiela” had been flaunting about to everyone all evening.

 

Brian Jumped all over the two, giving them quite the bollocking, “games we played on each other was one thing, but what you pair had done was wade into some very dangerous waters indeed”! So what’s next I chimed in, and by the looks on their heavily made-up faces realized the silly twits hadn’t thought of that end. We hastily discussed the matter, knowing that time was anything but on our sides. Finally Brian took it from my admonished(seemingly) twin, and marching it up to the disc jockey, had him make an announcement describing what his “sister” had found in the loo.

 

“Shiela”, whom we all had been watching, let out a shriek as her hands flew groping to her chest in fruitless examination, jumped up and immediately claimed it, or tried to as the Jocky had a little bit of fun with it first. “Shiela” and her haplessly star struck Beau, were so hopping mad at the Jocky, they pretty much gave no thought as to how the pretty thing actually had been lost in the first place. This was a lucky break for a couple of girls, who still sat their smugly smiling, as Brian tried in vain to continue scolding them. Me, I just looked at the twittering pair, wondering, pondering thoughts of me own.

 

Now it wasn’t until a couple of years later on the night my sister made the remark about the cold play song that the girls felt comfortable talking a bit more about the incident .And before Brian could listen without tabooing the subject. And it was then that I learnt how the pair of them had managed to take the diamonds from “Shiela”

 

It turned out the two had had no real plan, just that they had been discussing “Shiela” between themselves and had been debating over how fun it would be to knock her down a peg or so. One of the scenarios presented was to have her be given the shock of losing a piece of her expensive jewelry, and they even discussed bringing me into the fold, but thought better of it.

 

Although I am not sure if I would have taken them up on it, but since then I have thought out different ways I would have approached the problem, both by myself, and with the girls help. Although I wouldn’t have tried for the necklace, I figured her ring or bracelet would not have been beyond my scope of achievement. Although, with the girls help…….

 

Anyway they finally decided to try it themselves, after all how hard could it be to take, say a cocktail ring from “Shiela’s” sweaty finger as she was dancing away on the crowded floor?

 

They decided to join in the dance and get close to “Shiela” and if an opportunity arose, my sister was to signal Ginny by rubbing a finger alongside her nose to bump against “Shiela”, pushing the hapless B… into me devious twin. It was Ginny who came up with the name “squeeze play”, because I once had grasped and squeezed her from behind, removing her ring in the process.

 

Now “Shiela” was wearing what I guess is called an A-line gown, where her front was totally covered by the gowns shiny material, no gloves, just sweat glistened skin. As they moved in on “Shiela” Ginny took position behind, while Sis took the front, and at one point laid a hand upon “Shiela’s” shoulder, “Shiela” did likewise as they swayed to the deep rhythmic beats. Sis tried to grasp “Shiela’s” free hand, the one where she was wearing a diamond cocktail ring, but she kept missing. In the process she realized that the hand she had placed on her victims shoulder was almost touching the thick gold chain of her nemesis’s necklace, which held the diamond pendent that was bouncing about.

 

Looking “Shiela” directly in the eyes she began to work the necklace along as they danced, until her fingers felt the clasp. It was lobster clasp, similar to one my sister had on the emerald necklace Brian had given her. Sis gave it an exploratory push, and it surprisingly opened under her fingers. Startled at what had happened, she forgot the signal, and nodded to Ginny, who plowed into the hapless “Shiela’s” backside, as my sister felt “Shiela” fall against her. She whisked off the necklace with one hand, while steading the giggling “Shiela” with her other. Backing away she placed both hands behind her back as “Shiela” turned to receive Ginny’s apologies. Sis balled up the chain in one hand, holding it tightly closed for the remainder of the dance. They helped “Shiela” back to her table, my Sister placing the fist holding the necklace alongside her victims back as they helped guide the still giggling “Shiela” to a seat.

 

Walking away, my Sister thought that it had been almost scary how easily it had been to open the clasp and pluck off the necklace. It shouldn’t have been, she kept telling herself, but she knew it was, for she had the evidence in her hand, and she was not even close to ever being a professional about such things. My twin has said that afterwards that it had given her a lot of perturbed thoughts when wearing any good jewelry of hers in public, (particularly her emeralds with the Lobster clasp) and finds herself on occasion still doing spot checks whenever she has been brushed by someone. But then, I think we all do on occasion, knowing the kind of games we like to play.

 

So as one can see, overall ,this is a rather touchy subject to tackle. But there was no denying that Sis (and Ginny I suspect) were proud of their accomplishment at the time. It was almost like my twin was trying to impress upon me that I was not the only one with light fingers. A subject that, trust me, has been, and will continue to be explored down a sometimes crooked “garden” path.

  

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Anyone who has read Chronicles B knows that Ginny and Brian both received the upcommence for the manner in which they had gotten my sisters got at the wedding reception. But as for me, she waited a bit, biding her time, for like the proverbial elephant( which she has a bit of a collection) my twin does not forget.

Upcoming :

 

And revenge is a dish best served cold.

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In Appraisal

I do highly encourage anyone who has read my chronicles,( or looked at the clips below) and on the off-chance may actually have been entertained by them, and would like me to divulge more of our tomfooleries , to please leave behind a comment expressing that point.

Thank You

 

Food for thought:

Jewelry lifting Clips

www.youtube.com/watch?v=HAZdjhNVjxk&authuser=0

www.youtube.com/watch?v=Ls8rw2V1QCU&authuser=0

www.youtube.com/watch?v=4RbLiI9ZFQ8&authuser=0

www.youtube.com/watch?v=9XZ8s-R9vl4

www.youtube.com/watch?v=ofodSjKQ_-8

 

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Courtesy of Chatwick University Archives

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The purpose of these chronological photos and accompanying stories, articles is to educate, teach, instruct, and generally increase the awareness level of the general public as to the nature and intent of the underlying criminal elements that have historically plagued humankind.

 

No Part of this can reprinted, duplicated, or copied be without the express written permission and approval of Chatwick University.

 

These photos and stories are works of fiction. Any resemblance to people, living or deceased, is purely coincidental.

As with any work of fiction or fantasy the purpose is for entertainment and/or educational purposes only, and should never be attempted in real life.

We accept no responsibility for any events occurring outside this website.

 

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With the construction of the Central Washington Railway in 1889, Govan was designated as a place in Lincoln County WA. The discovery of a large sandbank in the area in the autumn of 1890 created a boom town atmosphere as a crew of workmen complete with a steam shovel, extracted sand for the railroad construction. The name is derived from R.B. Govan, a construction engineer employed by the Central Washington Railway. Govan has been the scene of several unsolved murders. Reported December 1902 as "The most brutal crime ever committed in the county." was the axe murder of Judge J.A. Lewis and his wife, Penelope. The elderly Lewis kept sums of money about the house. It was believed robbery was the motive. Govan's eventual demise was hastened in 1933 when the community was bypassed by US Route 2. Only one retail store remained in business as of 1940.

 

Built in 1906, the old red schoolhouse somehow manages to resist the prairie winds, and leaves ghost town hunters with a strong connection to a much older and very different hardworking America. Closed in 1942, sunlight now passes through its wooden siding. Not much remains inside but 50 years of school day memories.

 

www.ghosttownsofwashington.com/govan.html

www.scenicusa.net/120810.html

 

Photo of the abandoned Govan School House captured via Minolta MD W.Rokkor-X 17mm F/4 lens. In the ghost town and unincorporated community of Govan. Columbia Plateau Region. Inland Northwest. Lincoln County, Washington. Early August 2018.

 

Exposure Time: 1/250 sec. * ISO Speed: ISO-100 * Aperture: F/11 * Bracketing: None * Color Temperature: 5550 K * Film Plug-In: Kodak Portra 160 VC

Across the USA monarchs soar and glide in the warm sunshine from March through October (depending where they are born), but what happens in the fall when the brisk cold winds set in and winter looms in the air? Monarchs cannot survive cold winter temperatures of the northern states. So what does a monarch do to keep warm? It MIGRATES south and HIBERNATES! This means that it rests, with a very slow heart rate, just like bears in their hibernation caves. Monarchs east of the Rockies migrate 2500 miles to the Oyamel fir trees of Mexico. Monarchs west of the Rockies migrate to southern California to the eucalyptus trees of Pacific Grove and surrounding areas.

 

The monarch's flight to Mexico has been compared to the migration habits of birds flying south for the winter. It is the only insect that can fly 2,500 miles to a warmer climate. Their unique wing structure and yearly life cycle makes it possible for the fall generation monarchs to travel thousands of miles (on those amazing little wings) to the warm nesting grounds of Mexico and southern California.

(http://www.monarchbutterflyusa.com/Migration.htm)

 

When the late summer and early fall Monarchs emerge from their pupae, or chrysalides, they are biologically and behaviorally different from those emerging in the summer. The shorter days and cooler air of late summer trigger changes. In Minnesota this occurs around the end of August. Even though these butterflies look like summer adults, they won't mate or lay eggs until the following spring. Instead, their small bodies prepare for a strenuous flight. Otherwise solitary animals, they often cluster at night while moving ever southward. If they linger too long, they won't be able to make the journey; because they are cold-blooded, they are unable to fly in cold weather.

 

Fat, stored in the abdomen, is a critical element of their survival for the winter. This fat not only fuels their flight of one to three thousand miles, but must last until the next spring when they begin the flight back north. As they migrate southwards, Monarchs stop to nectar, and they actually gain weight during the trip! Some researchers think that Monarchs conserve their "fuel" in flight by gliding on air currents as they travel south. This is an area of great interest for researchers; there are many unanswered questions about how these small organisms are able to travel so far.

 

Another unsolved mystery is how Monarchs find the overwintering sites each year. Somehow they know their way, even though the butterflies returning to Mexico or California each fall are the great-great-grandchildren of the butterflies that left the previous spring. No one knows exactly how their homing system works; it is another of the many unanswered questions in the butterfly world.

(http://www.monarchwatch.org/tagmig/index.htm)

Korsika - Cap Corse

 

Pino

 

Cap Corse (Corsican: Capicorsu; Italian: Capo Corso), a geographical area of Corsica, is a 40 kilometres (25 mi) long peninsula located at the northern tip of the island. At the base of it is the second largest city in Corsica, Bastia. Cap Corse is also a Communauté de communes comprising 18 communes.

 

Numerous historians have termed Cap Corse "the Sacred Promontory" and have gone so far as to suppose the name came from a high concentration of early Christian settlements. This is a folk-etymology.

 

The term comes from the geographer Ptolemy, who called his first and northernmost location on Corsica the hieron achron in ancient Greek, transliterated by the Romans to sacrum promontorium. This is not the only point of land to be so-called; there were many others in the classical world, none of them Christian. The meaning is somewhat ambiguous, whether it was called that because of a temple placed there or whether as the end of the land it was sacred to the god of the sea. If the date of the Geography is taken arbitrarily to be 100 AD, and Ptolemy was working from earlier sources, a Christian association is highly unlikely. There is no evidence that Corsica was converted earlier than the 6th century AD, no evidence of any Christian communities in the area in Ptolemy's time, and the concentration of later Christian edifices is no greater than they are in any populated region of Corsica.

 

Ptolemy's interpretation of promontory also is not clear. It has been taken to mean the entire Cap Corse, the Pointe du Cap Corse, or some one of the small promontories on it. Sometimes it is associated with Macinaggio, but the problem remains unsolved.

 

There is some geographic justification for associating Ptolemy's entire tribe, the Vanacini, which are described as "more to the north", with Cap Corse, as it is a distinct geophysical environment. The Vanacini appear in a bronze tablet found in northern Corsica repeating a letter from the emperor Vespasian to "the magistrates and senators of the Vanacini" written about 72 AD, in Ptolemy's time. The Vanacini had bought some land from Colonia Mariana, a Roman colony in the vicinity of Bastia, and complained about the borders fixed by the procurator from whom they had bought it. The emperor on receiving the complaint appointed another procurator to arbitrate and wrote informing the complainants. The inscription is documentary evidence of the historicity of the Vanacini.

 

(Wikipedia)

 

Le Cap Corse est une péninsule d'environ 400 km2 de superficie, au nord-est de l'île de Corse. Élancée au nord vers la Ligurie, elle se rencontre à 33 km de la Capraia, à 83 km de Piombino, à 96 km de Livourne, à 160 km de Gênes et à moins de 175 km de la côte française. La pointe Nord du Cap (42° 50’ 2.34‘’ N) est située en deçà d’une ligne Est-Ouest qui passe par Toulon (43° 7’ 19.92’’ N) et même légèrement plus au Sud que l’île de Porquerolles (43° 0’ 2‘’ N), ce qui place le nord de la Corse à la même latitude que la partie la plus au sud de la France continentale (Pyrénées-Orientales, sud de Perpignan).

 

Dans l'Antiquité, le pays est dénommé Sacrum promuntorium. Il devient, au Moyen Âge, un territoire de seigneuries (San Colombano, Avogari, etc.). Il est partagé en cantons durant la Révolution.

 

« Le pays appelé le Cap-Corse a un circuit de quarante-huit à cinquante milles. Il est partagé en deux dans le sens de sa longueur par une montagne qui se prolonge du nord au midi. Les gens du pays l'appellent la Serra. C'est comme une chaîne dont la cime partage les eaux, qui vont se jeter dans la mer, les unes à l'est, les autres à l'ouest. »

 

— Agostino Giustiniani in Dialogo, traduction de Lucien Auguste Letteron in Histoire de la Corse - Description de la Corse – Tome I p. 7 - 1888.

 

Il est formé par une arête relativement élevée qui envoie en avant, à l'est et à l'ouest, des éperons et des contreforts qui délimitent des vallées parallèles où se sont installés les villages et les cultures.

 

« Dans le Cap-Corse, l'air est partout sain, l'eau bonne ; le vin est abondant, excellent et généralement blanc. Les vins de la côte extérieure sont plus renommés comme vins moûts ; ceux de la côte intérieure, lorsqu'ils sont clairs. La quantité de vin que l'on récolte dans le Cap-Corse est considérable ; on y récolte encore un peu d'huile, des figues et quelques autres fruits. Le sol est rebelle aux autres cultures, surtout à celle du blé. Les habitants sont bien habillés et plus polis que les autres Corses, grâce à leurs relations commerciales et au voisinage du continent. Il y a chez eux beaucoup de simplicité et de bonne foi. Leur unique commerce est celui des vins qu'ils vont vendre en terre ferme »

 

— Mgr Agostino Giustiniani in Dialogo, traduction de Lucien Auguste Letteron in Histoire de la Corse - Description de la Corse, Bulletin de la Société des sciences historiques & naturelles de la Corse – Tome I p. 8

 

Le Cap Corse est une péninsule schisteuse qui s'étend au nord d'une ligne Bastia - Saint-Florent, sur près de 40 km de long dans le sens nord-sud, et 10 à 15 km de large. La région est composée de schistes lustrés, dans lesquels dominent les schistes et quartzites amphiboliques ou pyroxéniques, avec, par places, des calcschistes micacés et des cipolins durs.

 

Quelques exceptions importantes apparaissent dans ce relief. Au nord du Cap, les schistes sont pénétrés par une masse de gabbros et de péridotites, d'où provient la pierre verte bien connue sous le nom de serpentine. Cette pierre d'une grande dureté forme les bosses du paysage, telles que les sommets comme l'Alticcione 1 139 mètres, les promontoires comme le Corno di Becco ou la pointe d'Agnello. De part et d'autre de cette nappe de roches vertes se trouvent deux accidents géologiques curieux. À l'ouest, presque tout le territoire de la commune d'Ersa est constitué par une couche de gneiss amphibolique, granitisé, sur lequel on retrouve les schistes lustrés ; tandis qu'à l'est, au nord et au sud de Macinaggio, le long de la côte, à Tamarone, comme à Finocchiarola, s'étalent les grès siliceux et à poudingues de l'époque Éocène, avec un lambeau triasique de cargneules et de calcaires.

 

La géologie très particulière du Cap Corse a donné lieu à une rareté géologique : l'amiante amphibiolique, une roche fibreuse susceptible d'être filée et tissée. Avec la première révolution industrielle, celle de la machine à vapeur, la demande d'amiante (matériau isolant et incombustible) est montée en flèche. L'amiante a été exploité industriellement à Canari dans une impressionnante carrière en gradins à ciel ouvert, de 1935 à 1965. Le site était à la fois une mine et une usine produisant un produit fini et mis en sacs. Fermée depuis 1966, la friche industrielle est diversement considérée : verrue industrielle au passé sinistre (le mésothéliome ou cancer de l'amiante sévissait parmi les ouvriers) pour les uns, c'est un lieu de visite (illégale) apprécié par d'autres, avec la mode de l'exploration urbaine.

 

L'orographie de la région s'explique ainsi : les schistes luisants et tendres donnent un relief doux, des versants lentement inclinés, des mamelons et des chaînes continus, telle que la crête de séparation entre Rogliano et Luri. Les bancs de cipolins dessinent des ruptures de pente et des plateaux abrupts, comme le Piano de Santarello. Les schistes amphiboliques en revanche ont des crêtes aiguës et dentelées, mais ce sont surtout les gabbros et les péridotites qui forment les plus fortes saillies, les dômes, les massifs compacts isolés au milieu des roches plus tendres.

Coucher sur le Monte Stello.

 

Une chaîne montagneuse, la Serra, s'étend tout le long du cap, depuis la Serra di Pignu (altitude 960 m) au sud, jusqu'au Monte di u Castellu (altitude 540 m) au nord. La Cima di e Follicie, haute de 1 324 mètres, en est le point culminant ; mais le Cap compte plus de dix autres sommets dépassant les 1 000 mètres d'altitude, dont le Monte Stello. Cette chaîne surgit des flots souvent tumultueux du Capo Bianco et de la Punta di Corno di Becco, par une levée de 333 m à la Punta de Pietra Campana et 359 m au Monte Maggiore. Elle se dirige en direction du sud-est vers la pointe de Torricella (562 m), traverser toute la péninsule et finir à la cime du Zuccarello 955 m et le défilé du Lancone.

 

La Serra est la ligne de partage des eaux. À l'est, la côte intérieure est baignée par la mer Tyrrhénienne et le littoral offre des paysages au relief collinaire contrastant avec les paysages aigus et abrupts de la côte extérieure baignée par la mer Méditerranée. Au nord, la côte est baignée par la mer Ligure.

 

Le littoral capcorsin, déchiqueté et accidenté, comprend peu de plages que l'on trouve uniquement au fond de ses anses. Le relief descend le plus souvent de façon abrupte dans la mer, et la route D80, qui fait le tour du Cap sur 110 km, de Bastia à Saint-Florent, offre un panorama de corniche. Un tiers des tours génoises, destinées à protéger la Corse d'attaques navales des Barbaresques, a été construit autour du cap.

 

(Wikipedia)

 

Cap Corse (korsisch Capicorsu, italienisch Capo Corso) ist eine Halbinsel im Norden Korsikas. Sie befindet sich im Département Haute-Corse.

 

Die Halbinsel hat eine Länge von ca. 40 km und eine Breite von ca. 10 km. An ihrem südöstlichen Ende befindet sich die Stadt Bastia. Die höchsten Erhebungen sind Monte Alticcione (1138 m), Monte Stello (1306 m) und Cima di e Follicie (1324 m) (mit der Höhle Grotta a l'Albucciu). Nördlich des Cap Corse liegt die kleine zur Gemeinde Ersa gehörende Insel Giraglia.

 

Das Cap Corse ist verhältnismäßig wenig touristisch erschlossen. Es ist eine bekannte Weinregion, das Cap gibt dem Wein Muscat du Cap Corse seinen Namen.

 

Die korsische Schutzpatronin Julia von Korsika lebte zeitweilig in der Gegend.

 

(Wikipedia)

A closer shot of the cement relleve in the main altar of Sibonga, Cebu, parish church, under the patronage of NS del Pilar, circa 1960s, when the old wooden retablo was demolished (I have no information as to why it was replaced).

 

The antique ivory processional image fell victim to another unsolved robbery against church property some twenty years ago.

  

The Miriam and Ira D. Wallach Orientation Center introduces visitors to the key concepts presented in the Museum’s fourth-floor fossil halls, in which more than 600 specimens, 85 percent of them actual fossils, are arranged as a giant “family tree” defined by evolutionary relationships. The “trunk” is denoted by a thick black line on the floor, which starts in this hall and continues through the Hall of Vertebrate Origins, the David H. Koch Dinosaur Wing, and the Lila Acheson Wallace Wing of Mammals and Their Extinct Relatives.

 

This main line is punctuated by branching points, which represent the evolution of new physical characteristics and direct visitors to alcoves with fossils of closely related animals. This method of grouping organisms, called cladistics, was pioneered with the help of Museum scientists.

 

A 200-seat theater in the Orientation Center features a video presentation, narrated by actor Meryl Streep, about the major evolutionary changes and episodes of diversification and extinction that have shaped the course of vertebrate evolution. Opposite the theater is a life-sized, fleshed-out reconstruction of a juvenile Barosaurus, the skeleton of which is on view in the Museum’s Theodore Roosevelt Rotunda. The inclusion of this speculative reconstruction is intended to suggest central themes of the fossils halls: what science can reveal about long-extinct life forms and what mysteries remain unsolved.

 

With the construction of the Central Washington Railway in 1889, Govan was designated as a place in Lincoln County WA. The discovery of a large sandbank in the area in the autumn of 1890 created a boom town atmosphere as a crew of workmen complete with a steam shovel, extracted sand for the railroad construction. The name is derived from R.B. Govan, a construction engineer employed by the Central Washington Railway. Govan has been the scene of several unsolved murders. Reported December 1902 as "The most brutal crime ever committed in the county." was the axe murder of Judge J.A. Lewis and his wife, Penelope. The elderly Lewis kept sums of money about the house. It was believed robbery was the motive. Govan's eventual demise was hastened in 1933 when the community was bypassed by US Route 2. Only one retail store remained in business as of 1940.

 

www.ghosttownsofwashington.com/govan.html

www.scenicusa.net/120810.html

 

Photo of an abandoned house captured via Minolta MD Zoom Rokkor-X 24-50mm F/4 lens and the bracketing method of photography. In the ghost town and unincorporated community of Govan. Columbia Plateau Region. Inland Northwest. Lincoln County, Washington. Early March 2018.

 

Exposure Time: 1/250 sec. * ISO Speed: ISO-160 * Aperture: F/8 * Bracketing: +1 / -1 * Color Temperature: 8800 K * Film Plug-In: Kodak Portra 160 NC

Case Study 113 : Warning, these are the raw, bare unusual occurrences as originally chronicled. Some names, times, places and some facts have been, of course, altered.

Name: Angelica D circa 192__

Subject: an unscrupulous light-fingered body thief

Event: Posh Wedding Reception

Place: Upstate New York

Time: Warm early Autumn Saturday

 

Angie Being Receptive

Story line:

 

Angie had heard about the affair, a wedding, from a list of prospective functions provided by a discreetly paid contact. It was being given for the only daughter of a wealthy politician (as if there were any non-wealthy ones!) Angie had happily invited herself to the affair, carefully dressing up in her best for the special occasion!

 

**

Wedding receptions were by far Angie’s favorite hunting grounds. During the season there could be anywhere from upwards of 20 high end affaires every weekend in the bigger cities, and always 2 or 3 in even the smallest of towns.

Wedding s were usually easy pickings: free food, drink and entertainment, and seldom worn jewelry made for a ready-made mix for Angie to ply her trade. For Angelica D. was a uniquely skilled pickpocket, specializing in the removal for profit of the expensive jewelry worn by the (usually be -gowned) women and young ladies’ who hauntingly dwelt in societies upper crust!

So Weddings, by their nature, were the desirable choice for Angie. One only had to avoid the Bride, her Bridesmaids, and their court, which were usually the major focus of any security present. However, there were plenty of opportunities to be had by employing her special bag of tricks on the outlaying fringe.

Angie had arrived early at the mammoth facility, to scout out the establishment and to scope out who was wearing what. Used to these affairs either being feast or famine, she could quickly tell that in this one there was cooking up a devouring banquet.

**

After Angie had entered the mammoth reception room it did not take her long to spy her first plump prospect, nicely loaded with possibilities. It was a lady, bearing a haughty look, who had been making a b-line through the crowd as way was parted for her. She was wearing a luxuriously long rusty coloured sable fur coat that hid most of her long crimson -red satin gown. What Jewels were visible, ears, fingers and wrist, were all flashing with pricy fire. In tow she held the hand of a young girl, obviously her daughter, wearing actual makeup, which, along with her fetching gown and brite jewelry, made her appear far older than she was. A handsome man , looking like the actor William Powell in a tux, followed behind the pair, husband and father, Angie presumed. She shadowed the little family as they swished their way to a corner table, conveniently located by a rear exit, for a better look over. Her fingers had started with an all too familiar tingle as she took it all in.

**

The husband helped his wife out of the sable, laying it carefully along a bench against the wall. Angie was not disappointed. A silver necklace of large matched diamonds gracefully encircled her throat. A dazzling blood ruby and diamond brooch held up the center of her gown, positioned just below the bust line. Brooches, like this one, were worth a lot once fenced, but its placement required a little more dexterity and skill than she was willing to risk. In actuality, Angie had only attempted twice before to take a brooch pinned to a gown in this fashion. She had only been successful one of those times, only to find out it was a pretty piece of paste.( Years later, as Angie’s talents became more polished, relieving ladies of their dangling brooches, like this blood ruby, became her specialty.. the Eds.) Angie’s eyes moved on. The rest of the snooty lady’s jewels matched her necklace. Long earrings, free clipped, dangling brightly from her earlobe s. A pair of wide ruby bracelets clasped tightly home around elegant red elbow length satin gloves, sparkled devastatingly, matching her brooch. Her long fingers were home to a pair of ruby and diamond rings and a third ring set with a gold band and a vulgarly large solitaire diamond.

**

Angie’s attention turned to the daughter, whom had been helped by her Father , squirming, from the chocolate coloured satin cape that she had been wearing. The youngster, all of about 10, was wearing a cream coloured long puffy sleeved dress with a brown satin sash encircling her waist that matched her Cape. The young lady possessed impossible large bright eyes. The only thing that held more shine than those doe like eyes had been the antique rhinestone diamond necklace that fell dripping ever so invitingly down the front of the precious little imp’s rich glossy gown. The rest of her matching rhinestones (obviously belonging to the child’s mother) consisted of an engaging display of a bracelet, pair of dangling, screwed on clasp earrings, and matching rings encircling a chubby finger one on each hand. It all gleamed brightly, invitingly from her svelte girlish figure. A large round pin held her sash up in place; it sparkled with what looked like a ring consisting of one caret diamonds, as unlikely as it was they could be real.

**

The two females of the family presented a pretty package indeed. Not one to pass up an invite that alluring, Angie walked by , with the pretext of heading to a back exit behind the table the little family had staked, just so she could get a closer peek.

**

Angie’s practiced eye took in a wealth of information during the few seconds it took her to walk up and pass the group, so involved with themselves they never even looked her way. Her attention focused upon the young mother first scoping head to toe.

**

Angie scrutinized the brooch; it was definitely worth the effort. In her mind’s eye, Angie envisioned the mother as a stumbling drunk “bumping into” Angie. Fingers whisking along the slippery lustrously softness of the gown, as the lady was steadied. Angie would accept the women apologies and the pair would part their ways, Angie from the young mother, and the magnificent brooch from the rich satiny red gown. But then the mother raised her head, looking up past Angie, towards a commotion being made behind her. Typical Angie thought, she doesn’t recognize me, so I don’t exist, like some sort of servant. But it was as she caught the young mother in full profile that she realized this lady looked strikingly similar to another woman who had been wearing an expensive dress of teal charmeuse that Angie had had been having a long conversation with, while relieving the woman’s finger of a costly diamond sapphire ring. It had happened only just last weekend at a formal function, and Angie figured she may have not recognized her in passing, but may if Angie were to use one of her approaches again with the intent of taking some of her jewelry, he memory may be jarred, and she may remember her missing ring. This was why Angie only allowed herself to ply her trade for no more than a month in any given place per year. This was from a lesson she had learned early on in her career. And so, for that reason alone, Angie decided to, at least temporarily, abandon any designs she had on the young mother’s brooch, allowing her devious intentions to evaporate from her mind like smoke on the wind. There were plenty more fish in the sea she told herself.

**

Angie still allowed herself a quick appraisal of the squirming 10 year old. She admired the glossy dress of slippery satin that her mother had conveniently dressed her daughter up in, as it fell spilling down to her black open toed shoes. Angie’s fingers started to tingle; this was a perfect tickling gown. Angie liked to think of any long dress or gown that swept down to a females heels as a” tickling gown”. All it took was a strategically placed foot timed with a well place nudge to send the chosen victim tumbling. During the ensuing diversion, Angie would use her long subtle fingers to swiftly probe along the gowned figure, tickling she like to call it due to the tingling sensation of the usually rich material of the victim’s attire. In this fashion, a pre-targeted piece of valuable jewelry could then be easily acquired, no matter what its placement had been on the unfortunate female. If only the chatty youngster had something on better than rhinestones. It was a crying shame to have a child that young dolled up like an adult, but not wearing adult jewels.

**

Angie continued to walk past, unseen, and went out the door. She found herself in a large serenity garden of roses and shrubs, surrounded by a 10 foot high well-trimmed hedge. The sort of garden one usually found in those days around upscale Churches. The only exit was a gate leading onto the parking lot on the side of the church. Here was positioned a solitary, lonely guard in a neat little guard hut. In the opposite, far corner was a statue of Cupid, arrow drawn, standing above a display of blooming moss roses at the end opposite to the gate. There was always potential in places like these.

**

Angie had started to walk over to the Cupid statue when she heard the exit door open. Turning, she saw the young girl, whose mother’s brooch Angie had been scoping out, looking out the door. She snuck through, running out alone, silky tickling gown swishing out behind her. Her heart leapt to her throat as she watched the girls rhinestones sparkle radiantly. She actually turned to head towards the path the unsuspecting child was running up, flexing her fingers as she contemplating a little warm up practice. Angie watched as the dolled up imps necklace flashed with pinpricks of coloure as it bounced to and fro as she ran happily up the path .Angie turned her back to the girl, waiting to hear the telltale click of her heels come up just behind her. She would then move, bumping into the girl as she passed, tripping her to the ground. After which Angie would help her up, removing the girl’s fancy necklace in the process. Come to Mama Angie whispered under her breath, waiting to make her move as the skipping heels grew ever louder.

**

But then Angie froze, hearing the clicking of the exit door again opening behind her. She checked her stride letting the daughter slither past without a glance. She headed again towards the statue, watching her prize move on ahead. Then she heard the father in the background calling out to his little princess. The youngster turned, and ran back, beaming at Angie as she passed. Angie smiled back, her eyes again traveling to the girls neckline, and the sparkling jewelry the outlined her throat. It had been a silly thought she chided herself, as the girl passed from view. If only the necklace had been real, and the father about ten minutes later in discovering his daughter absence. It would have been an unbelievably easy pluck and she could be out the gate before anyone was the wiser. And the best part was that they would probably believe the scampering girl had just lost it in the garden. And, while the parents were looking about, Angie would have been free to renter to ply her trade again. As it was, it was silly of Angie, risking her opportunity on a child’s bauble worth a mere pittance compared to some of the other offerings so readily being flaunted this evening by her adult counterparts.

**

Angie continued her casual stroll through the Garden, happily playing over in her mind some of the jewels that she would like to see adorning the female guests inside, and the scenarios she may be using to acquire them

**

Finding herself approaching the guard hut, she allowed herself a glance back. Jealously she watched the father, who had caught and was carrying his slippery attired daughter, heading back inside. How Angie wished she had been the one carrying the squirming little imp, it would have been like a smorgasbord, with jewels instead of food. Pity her mother had not put the good stuff on the daughter, she sighed to herself. Tonight she would have to work for her butter. She walked past the bored guard, nodding at him, receiving a rather lecherous look in return. A smile was forming across her cunning face, for now it was time to get down to the real business at hand.

**

The affair turned out to be quite a showcase for the very rich. Who were indiscreetly flaunting their riches, trying to outdo one another, probably for the benefit of the politicians’ attention? Certainly not for the attention of the designer satin gowned and flashy diamonded daughter, whom most of the guests hardly knew, or had ever met.

**

Angie always felt like a little kid in a candy shoppe at these lavish affairs.

She spent the first part of the reception mingling and thoroughly enjoying the show her the reception’s guests were u wittingly putting on. Angie, wearing no jewels herself, was something of an anomaly compared to her fellow guests.

**

There were over a thousand luxuriously coloured, squawking female birds and their young chicks pompously displaying valuable finery, oblivious of the cat amongst them waiting to pounce. Angie patently mingled, watching as the adult guests had their fill of food and drink.

Once their guard began to relax, Angie raised hers’, her probingly skillful fingers now more than prepared to begin and ply her trade. For the more they imbibed, the less guarded they were, both about themselves and their female offspring. Angie would start with the adults, 2 or 3 of the right pieces of jewelry, once acquired, and would mean she could call it a night and have enough to support her for a solid month. If she came up empty in that department, her back up would then center on the female off-spring, daughters and nieces.

Most of said offspring would be by then scattered about, aware that their parents were no longer paying them any heed, exploring and playing, sporting their fancy satin gowns, silken dresses, and their dainty jewelry, ripe for the picking. Giving pickpockets like Angie endless opportunity to ply their trade on them, once they had finished working through the adults. Or if the thieves were beginners, plenty of easy practice while “learning the ropes!”

**

Now, when Angie herself was just starting out as a young pickpocket, she stumbled across a treatise written by a man using the pseudonym “Gaston Monescu”. Written around 1826, entitled the Cutpurse: skilles, artes and Secretes of the Dip, it covered the various tactics and moves used by master pickpockets.

 

Angie had studied it religiously, especially a ploy called the “Necklace Flimp.” This tactic was primarily used for body thieves working alone. Angie had been surprised to learn that a pickpocket could raise his/her skill level above just acquiring wallets. Having the ability to lift a woman’s necklace amazed her, not to mention the profit that could be realized. With practice, Angie had found that not only was it a good technique for acquiring necklaces, but it worked for other pieces of worn jewelry as well.

 

It was relatively simple process, but took a long time to master.

First part was to employ psychology and watch the potential victim for the unique movements and quirks in their personality and actions that could provide an opportunity for her skills. Then observe the selected piece the victim wore, for value, type of clasp, make, and accessibility. The second part was to employ a bump, slip, or grasp, and in one motion, flick open the studied clasp and send the piece away from the body by either pulling and palming, or dropping it to the floor or ground for retrieval later. If she was noticed, it was “sorry, miss, very clumsy of me” “here let me get if for you, no harm done?” Then walk away and let the waters settle before trying yet again (sometimes even on the same person!)

 

Angie had practiced the jewelry flimp until she had the technique totally mastered. Starting out first on specially dressed up mannequins in her apartment, than trying it on small pieces of cheap baubles worn by real women in crowded streets and stores. Then on younger, less guarded, better jewelry wearing young girls attending proms and social dances. Young looking for her age at the time, Angie had fit right in amongst them. Then, finally, she graduated to lifting the better jewels of the older, wealthy women attending society’s finer parties and receptions. And it was this path that led her here today, and would also lead several unlucky females to report missing jewelry to their respective insurance companies.

**

See Album “Angie having a Ball” for additional background on our master thief with the light fingers.

**

Angie now eagerly employed those useful talents learned from monsieur Monescu’s little pamphlet at the wedding reception. She mingled freely, carrying around a drink that never touched her lips. She watched and learned, her trained eyes missing very little. Soon, like that hypothetical kid in a candy shoppe, Angie’s head was spinning from so much to choose from that she really could not make any easy choice. So, she waited and watched patiently, knowing opportunity would knock.

 

**

 

Then, like it usually happened with Angie, the first genuine opportunity unexpectedly presented herself. Angie literally was run into a rather awkward, spindly lady in thick glasses clad in a fetchingly expensive costume consisting of a thick silver satin blouse with hanging ruffles down its front, combined with a long rustling tiered skirt that swept down to the top of her open toed silver high heels. Her diamond jewelry shone with exuberant flames as they caught the light from the many chandeliers that hung from the vaulted ceiling. The lady expressed frantically her apologies, placing a hand with well ringed fingers on Angie’s shoulder, where they sparkled merrily. No worries Angie said smiling, her eyes taking it all in without appearing to move. She let the frazzled lady leave, allowing her a head start, it was only sporting to do so.

**

Angie shadowed her quarry for a while, seemingly rewarded for her efforts when the lady managed to spill a bit of her drink down on her skirt. In a show of flashing silvery satin and diamonds ,she retreated and disappeared into a nearby powder room, with Angie following eagerly, opportunity knocking.

**

As Angie grabbed onto the closing powder room door, a mid- twenty something girl in a deep green velvet gown came out. Her only jewelry was a wide diamond bracelet wrapped around a wrist of the matching long green gloves she wore. Angie caught it out of the corner of her eye, realizing that it was as expensive as it was bright. But it was her friend, a willowy short haired pretty young thing in a glamorous Chocolate Satin gown that made Angie’s jaw drop. Her jewels, like her friends, were also sparse, but enormously pricy. The long white satin gloves that graced her hands and arms also held matching bracelets, thin, but each one worth the effort. But her real eye catcher was the row of authentic, one caret white diamonds that were rippling exquisite fire along her throat. Angie held the door for them, nodding to as they passed. Noses in the air, they did not appear to notice Angie. Then, with the ladies backs to her, Angie abandoned Miss silver satin and turned to follow. Angie got in behind the two with the intention of getting a closure examination of the clasp of the fiery diamond necklace Miss Chocolate satin was wearing.

**

However, Angie never got her closer look. For at that moment the tossing of the bride’s boutique was announced and Angie was overwhelmed by a mad dash of single ladies heading for the bride. On a lark she allowed herself to be swept along, losing sight of Miss Chocolate satin, but found herself right smack behind Miss Green velvet and her cheerfully sparkling diamond bracelet, a beautifully expensive piece that would have cost someone a king’s ransom. Angie’s fingers began their all too familiar tingling, eager for a chance to acquire jewelry that valuable, but not for any king, just for herself!

**

Though the night was still relatively early, and Angie still had visions of those exquisite rippling diamonds of the pretty Miss in chocolate satin on her mind, she simply could not pass up this opportunity. Angie wedged herself close behind her chosen victim as the multitude of hopeful young women pressed forward to try their luck. As the Bride teased her guests before getting ready to toss her bouquet of white and red roses, Angie expertly scrutinized the bracelet as it dangled from the green velvet glove. When the bride finally turned her back and raised her arms every one of the richly clad single women’s eyes was focused on the bride’s bouquet, Angie’s eyes were fixated on the bracelet. With the music playing loud, the crowd giggling and laughing, and all eyes focused on the gorgeously outfitted young long haired bride, Angie again felt opportunity knocking. Her pulse beating in rhythm with the music, she made ready to seize the chance when it presented itself. The roses flew through the air and all the women raised their hands high, looking all for the world like being involved in a stick-up. Angie timed it perfectly, snapping the clasp, and snatching the bracelet easily away from the gloved wrist of its owner as she raised her arms high to grab at the boutique. In her excitement, shared by everyone, Miss Green velvet ( who did not catch the bouget of roses) never felt a thing. Angie had smirked as she left the giggling group, stowing securely the purloined diamonds, as she imagined what it would have been like to watch that group robbed in a mass stick-up. The money that some enterprising soul could have made from that haul would have been astronomical.

**

She went to the open bar, lighting her first cigarette; she ordered her first real drink of the night. She could feel the coolness of the weighty bracelet in its hiding spot, and Angie, pleased with herself, calmly sipped her drink as she relished in the moment. The toss of the Brides Boutique was, in Angie’s experienced opinion, one of the three common events occurring during a wedding reception that were fertilely prime times for pickpocketing. (Editor’s note.. Miss D. mysteriously never divulged what she considered the other two prime events to be….)

**

She looked about without a worry in the world, coolly watching the antics of some of the younger women on the dance floor. She spied the young miss in the green velvet gown over in a corner talking in an animated fashion with several other women. Green velvet gown’s now bare velvet glove, apparently not noticed by anyone but Angie. One of her group was displaying some bright emeralds peeking through the long silver fur she was wearing, obviously she was leaving, and she was talking excitedly about something to the group formed around her! Nowhere in sight was Miss chocolate satin, too bad, Angie would have loved another peek before leaving.

Angie watched around the room causally, as the cold bracelet pressed expensively against her figure from its hiding spot. She eventually lost track of green velvet and her friends while finishing her drink. Setting down the empty glass, she decided it was time to call it a night. The bracelet now in her possession was easily worth as much as the 2 or 3 separate pieces she usually acquired at functions like these, added together! And, she needed her rest, Angie had a couple of plans the next day, one revolving around the female guests who would be attending an upscale afternoon prom fashion show a, the other, an evening opera performance (invited guests only, and her contact had managed to supply a ticket, at a hefty price!) No rest for the wicked, Angie told herself.

**

On her way out of the main lobby, she found herself leaving behind the very lady in green velvet whose bracelet was now in Angie’s possession. She was with the same gaggle of her similarly dressed friends, including the one exhibiting the emeralds. However, miss chocolate satin was still not visible. They were laughing and joking as they collected their assorted pretty wraps, obviously heading for a nightclub. If she had not already relieved one of them of a bauble, Angie might have invited herself along, if only to have a go at some emeralds. Angie hesitated about leaving withy them, then shrugged, followed the group out the door past the pair of bored rent a cops.

**

She remembered thinking, as she followed the elegant young princesses ,their fluid gowns peeking from under their various furs and wraps, how shallow the very rich could be. She wondered if Miss Green velvets friends had even noticed that she had had diamonds around the wrist of her glove, let alone that they were now missing. She wondered how long it would be before the bracelets loss was discovered. She figured it would be several hours, long enough for its owner not to be sure what place they had been lost. As young Miss Green velvet fancy gown and her friends turned right outside the exit, Angie turned left, heading towards the guard hut at the entrance to the garden.

She decided not to follow them but rather circle around the outside of the garden to give her victim time to leave.

**

That simple decision to make a left turn proved to be a major turning point in Angie’s fortunes that evening.

**

As Angie passed the hut guarding the entrance to the serenity garden, she noticed it was deserted.

It was as she was looking it over, that she heard the sounds of clicking heels moving fast, followed by the sounds of a young girl giggling. On the alert she stole to the backside of the hut, soon spying a splash of something blue and silky between the gaps of a couple of large bushes. Her senses on their highest peak, she began to move cautiously in, hoping the female making the noise would be in need of aid and comfort perhaps.

**

She soon spotted a young lady of about 14 bending over, hands on her knees as she panted heavily. Her back was to Angie, and what pretty back it was. She was nicely attired in a long gown of shiny material dyed deep blue like an afternoon, cloudless summer sky. The gown cascaded down along her petite figure, spilling out on the ground around her feet. Her hair was pulled back, easily displaying a pair of small diamond and sapphire earrings, not rhinestones for this one, but the real McCoy. Around one finger was a gold ring with sapphires, and from her left wrist dangled a thin silver bracelet with a row of diamond chips, both pretty, both valuably real. But it was her last piece of visible jewelry that stole the show. It hung, swinging to and from her neck on a thick braided chain of solid silver. On its end, like a hypnotists prism, was a silver pendent in the shape of a flower, with 1 inch long, pear shaped real diamonds as petals and a fully 2 inch in circumference center stone of deep sea blue. Angie watched it, her eyes following it for a full minute, its expensive fire sealing its own fate as Angie began flexing her fingers. Angie took her eyes off of it and looked around to see why the princess had been running. But all was still as the girl continued to peek through the branches towards the back door leading into the hall. Angie silently approached, and walking up to the pretty miss she bent down and in a friendly tone, asked who she was running from.

**

I played a joke on my sister, and now I’m hiding from her, piped the girl breathlessly, as Angie placed a hand upon the girls shoulder in a conspiratorial fashion, said shoulder made silky soft by the gowns half sleeve.

**

I know a better place where you can hide from her, Angie whispered in the girl’s ear, the dangling earring ever so close to her lips. The girl looked up, smiling, and Angie pointed towards the guard hut, and as the girl looked, Angie’s fingers glided up along the silky shoulder and lifted the thick silver chain up from the back of the gowns’ scooped collar. Come Angie said, and as the girl rose Angie’s fingers nimbly flicked open the chains’ lobster clasp, holding onto the clasp as the other end of the chain slipped down, allowing the pendent to slide free and fall onto the grass at the girls feet, where it lay shimmering. Angie moved her hand to the girls shoulder, squeezing it, while slipping off the braided silver chain with her other hand, whisking it back and away from the guileless young girl. Angie led her princess away from the spot and walked with her to the guard’s hut, still empty, where she had her hide neath the counter.

**

Angie turned and went back to claim the pendent, there still was no sign of any sister. She secured the pendent, joining it with the chain and bracelet, and headed deeper into garden. Her plan was to watch the hut and see which way the girl went after getting bored waiting. But as she skirted the perimeter her plans were changed when, upon rounding a corner of the path at the far end, she saw yet another back belonging to a solitary lady in her late thirties, clad in a long slinky yellow coloured gown of expensively shiny taffeta, bending over to smell the yellow roses on a bush. Instinctively Angie knew two things about her. One was that whatever jewels this lady would be wearing, they would be expensive, and the other was that with an expensive gown like that; the lady would undoubtedly be wearing her jewels. Angie suddenly became aware that her fingers were tingling, as an all too familiar whelming feeling again delightfully washed over her.

**

Angie found herself automatically turning back onto the garden path. She headed around the women and went down to the cupid’s statue, where now out of sight, she carefully hid the purloined bracelet, and still warm fiery pendent and its ‘fancy silvery braided chain..

**

She then headed towards the unsuspecting flower admirer. The ladies’ long brunette hair had fallen, flowing down the backside of her shiny taffeta gown. Angie could see rings and a bracelet gleaming as she was holding up the rose to her face. A long double rope of pearls hung swaying deliciously from her throat. Coming up behind her Angie stood watching; calculating until the lady rose and with a start realized she was not alone.

**

Pretty Angie said, her eyes on the pearls now draping down the front of her marks yellow gown. They are lovely, are they not? The damsel responded thinking Angie was referring to the roses. Just like the ones in the park, my husband and I walked through on our way to catch a cab today. Actually, I meant your dress Angie said complimentary. Thank you the lady practically squealed, I love the way it flows, and she swirled it about to show Angie, who got an eyeful of sparkly jewelry for her efforts. As she continued engaging the women in conversation, Angie decided upon attempting for the woman’s necklace of pearl. Seeing opportunity knocking when Yellow Taffeta pulled her long hair forward so it hang down the front of her gorgeous gown, laying silkily over one shoulder, nicely exposing the pricy necklaces clasp. Angie looked around, they were alone, out of site of the opposite end of the garden where the inside door was, and the guards hut with it’s pretty occupant.

**

Angie, using the marks interest in roses to her advantage, managed to steer the capricious damsel in shiny yellow over to the cupid’s statue. There, she placed a hand upon a silky taffeta covered shoulder, and pointed down to the shrub of moss roses growing at the foot of the statue . When she stooped down to get a closer look, Angie’s fingers whisked from her marks shoulder to the clasp, in a single effort with two fingers, lifted it by the clasp, and snapped it open. At that moment the mark cried “spider” and jumped up, backing into Angie, who watched helplessly as the pearls fell down from the damsel’s throat and slipped along the front of the yellow taffeta gown. They fell with a soft plop unto the ground at their mistress’s feet. Angie tried to lead her away, hoping to come back and reclaim the necklace. But as Angie pointed to another rose bush some distance away, the lady took a step forward, instead of back, planting her feet right onto the pearl necklace. Hey she exclaiming, what’s that, looking down to her high heeled foot? Oh, my pearls the lady squealed again, a glittering hand shooting to feel around her throat. Angie reached down, and reluctantly retrieved them from the base of the rose bush for the squealing lady in yellow . My husband would not have been pleased if I had lost these, she said as Angie held them, feeling their pricey smoothness.

**

She asked if Angie could help her put them on, my maid usually does this sort of thing, you know. Angie reluctantly complied, re- hanging the pearls as the pretty damsel held up her hair, and reluctantly redid the clasp. The Damsel thanked Angie by embracing her in a full hug, her diamond and pearl earring hitting Angie’s cheek. But Angie’s arms were being held by the hugging woman, so Angie was able to only watch the tantalizingly close earring sway free. Angie left yellow-gowned damsel in the garden, getting nothing for her efforts other than the feel of an expensive gown of the likes she could probably never afford to own.

**

With the pretty damsel hovering around the cupid statue, Angie decided to go back into the reception hall until the coast was clear. She carefully looked towards the Guards hut, and seeing that the guard had returned, figured the girl, so fetchingly clad in blue, had been rousted out, so that loose end was probably tied up. She just had to keep a careful eye out. The quite valuable bracelet and pricy necklace with its pendent were well hidden; there was absolutely no danger of someone stumbling over it.

**

Truth was, Angie had found her appetite wetted and once again visions of a lady in chocolate brown satin exhibiting a row of flashy diamonds, teased her thoughts. An accomplished pickpocket like herself had a couple of well-practiced ploys she could utilize to obtain a tight fitting necklace from its mistress. In addition, Angie was now determined to find her and to risk a try. She had really nothing to lose.

**

It took almost an hour of hunting amongst the now well liquored, gaily mingling crowd before Angie could admit to herself that there was absolutely no sign of the willowy lady in the stunning chocolate satin gown. Damn she thought to herself, those diamonds were something special. She shrugged it off, reciting in her mind a wicked little mantra of hers, “Another one who got away, a chance to lose her jewels to Angie on another day!” She strolled about pondering on what her next course of action could be. There had been no sign of the pretty girl in blue whose necklace Angie now had hidden away, and Miss Green Velvet was definitely out of the picture, so she felt that it was still safe to try to pluck one last bird or chick. In her hunt for the brown, Angie had seen several inviting prospects; one lady(purple satin, diamonds), two girls( ivory silk, pearled pin; red satin, gold necklace set with chips of precious stones), and now was weighing the risks.

 

It was at that point she once again espied the thickly bespectacled awkwardly introverted young lady invitingly wearing the thick silver satin ruffled blouse, which she had been tailing much earlier. And as Angie watched here, she again accepted the invitation. Her prey had appeared on the dance floor, being led around by a rather charming young man. That would make a dandy consolation prize Angie drooled to herself happily as she took in the sparkling show put on by the dancers jewels.

**

Angie looked her over, reacquainting herself with the jewels she so nicely was displaying. A pair of long earrings cascaded down from her earlobes where they precariously held on by antique silver claps. Angie relished the opportunity to “flimp” pairs of earrings like these. Heavily jeweled, each one was worth a tidy sum. Angie mulled this as she continued to study the jewels of her appealingly dressed new target.

**

The girl’s only ring was a solitaire diamond of at least 3 carets on a thick solid gold band worn vulnerably loose on her un-gloved, bare ring finger. A wide silver cuff bracelet with what appeared to be at least seven rows of matching, shimmering diamonds was dangling around her left wrist (she was right handed Angie observed) . The bracelet had a habit of lying over her sleeve, and Angie could see that it was a costly tiffany piece, whose clasp was exceptionally easy to flick open. A diamond pendent hung swinging from her satiny ruffles, held by an extravagantly thick silver chain with a simple , small eye in hook clasp. The Diamonds in the pendent were as shimmery as stars plucked from the night’s sky.

Angie remembered reading that in a poem from a book she had picked up years earlier in a library, while stalking a young mother in a satin dress, wearing an authentic Gruen Watch on one wrist, and a bracelet of diamonds on the other, that had gone into the library in pursuit of her young son running inside. Like that young mother, It was obvious that this lady in silver satin was not accustomed to wearing jewels, and that set probably spent most of their days lying in a safe. Angie licked her lips as she imagined what the other contents of that safe might look like

**

Angie moved in to allow herself a much closer appraisal of her potential victim’s jewels.

The young lady was totally oblivious to anything but the rather surprisingly strikingly handsome man who to all appearances was her Fiancée, who was holding her ever so close. But Angie was able to see enough of what she wanted to. The young Ladies’ thick satin blouse shone richly in the lights, moving like glistening wet liquid silver, while from her waist spilled the long black skirt with satiny tiers that swished and swayed nicely along her figure as she uneasily danced. Her jewels were bursting with colour as they played hide and seek with Angie’s watchful eyes. From all appearances, they were a mismatched couple. He seemed to know everyone and moved with a confident air, she was just the opposite. It made an enticingly intriguing package indeed for someone with Angie’s skills.

**

Silver Satin was the perfect “Gaston Monescu” type of mark, a perfect combination of classic mannerisms, clothing and Jewels worth anyone’s efforts to take. This was the only fly in the ointment that Angie observed. For by the bar she could see that two other sets of eyes were watching the same young lady in shiny satin and blazing diamonds. Angie intuitively knew they were drooling over acquiring jewels she was wearing.

**

She had noticed the pair of young men in loose fitting suits when they had entered a little earlier about the same time as Angie’s reappearance. They were obviously casing the jewels of any woman, young, or old, who walked past them. Angie knew their type, simple thieves, with no real skills outside of holding a knife in a dark alley to the throat of their victim while they unceremoniously searched and stripped them of their treasures. Angie saw that they were whispering amongst themselves and instinctively knew they were watching and waiting for the fetchingly clumsy silver clad lady clad loaded with diamonds, to leave the “establishment”.

**

She is mine Angie whispered, possessively snarling the words under her breath. She looked around as she thought about how best to handle the situation. Her eyes opened wide as she saw a familiar woman waiting by the coat checkroom. Perfect she purred, placing an unlit a cigarette in her mouth and heading over the bar.

**

She sauntered up next to them and ordered a drink, catching their eyes she asked for a light. As they obliged she took a pull and puffed out smoke, asking in a casual tone, “how about my jewels? Boys!” They could see perfectly well that she was not wearing any, and one snarled, “What’s your game, sister?” Angie snarled back in her best cop like manner, “We know what you boys are up to, and we suggest you both call it a night!” “Yer no cop sister”, they challenged, calling her bluff,” what’s your angle!” Angie calmly looked towards the entrance, perfect she mused as she saw their eyes follow hers, “Maybe not” she stated, “but see that lady being helped into the black mink?” “The shiny yellow dame?” one of em asked? “ “yes”, Angie replied taking a puff on her cigarette before going on, “ well that man’s she’s with used to be mine .” “ Now, I aint one to hold a grudge, but, those pearls she’s waltzing around with are worth plenty. And her rings, they are an easy two grand alone.”

**

Angie could tell she had captured their interest, and that they were now paying rapt attention to the lady in the thick yellow taffeta gown whose necklace Angie had almost acquired in the serenity garden. One of them looked at Angie, a suspicious look crossing his mug, “What’s innit for you sister?!” He demanded. Angie looked at him, dripping with sarcastic innocence. “Nothing brother, other than to make sure the jewels of the dame who stole my husband get home safely .” “I just worry,’ Angie went on, “there is a park in front of their residence and that dame in yellow likes to stroll through it to smell the roses after their cab drops them off.” They watched the couple leave, her expensive yellow gown sweeping provocatively at her gold high- heeled shoed feet. Angie looked them in the eyes and said smoothly, “ Gentlemen such as yourselves may want to do a good deed and follow them home to make sure some miscreant doesn’t spot her in those valuable jewels and mink. Not to mention her man’s gold watch and three hundred sawbucks in his wallet!” Angie winked at the pair, “If you catch my drift.” She added.

**

Still not totally convinced about what Angie was selling them, but equally unsure over who Angie was, both men got up and quickly headed towards the main exit as the last slip of an expensive yellow taffeta gown disappeared through the door. Smugly, Angie puffed on her cigarette as she watched them leave.

**

It was then that a hand was placed on Angie’s shoulder from behind.

**

She froze for a split second, before becoming aware of the soft mummer of satin, and of a slender finger was home to a sparkling sapphire ring. Angie smiled and turned around, facing the girl. Pardon me ma’am, she says politely, but do you remember me? Of course dear, Angie gushes while beaming at the forlorn looking miss in the fetching blue gown; I met you in the garden. Yes she confirms, but I lost my necklace somewhere and I was wondering if you remember if I had it on when we met? Angie’s heart leapt, bless this babe in the woods, thinking her necklace had merely been lost, never suspecting that someone like, say, Angie could have been the cause. She absolutely adored the trusting nature of rich girls this age. For that aspect of their purity had allowed Angie, far too easily sometimes, to lift many a jewel from well attired unsuspecting young princesses like this one. Who was now standing before her, miserable, her desirable diamond and sapphire earrings dangling ever so beckoningly, her sad puppy eyes pleading ever so sweetly, and her missing necklace closer than she could ever imagine.

**

No dear, I did not see you with a necklace, Angie lied coolly, as she reached out and stroked the girl tenderly alongside her face, her fingers touching one of the earrings. Angie was looking her fully in the eye, you didn’t lose anything else, and did you dear she asked with a concerned tone. The girl checked her earrings, bracelet and ring (Angie smiled to herself, silently thinking thanks for the info kid!) But when she spoke, it was with hopeful words laced with honey, If you want, I can help you look, my dear. The girl’s eyes lit up for a second, thank you ma’am, I wanted to, but papa said to wait until tomorrow when the light is better.

Angie smiled winningly, don’t worry dear, I’m sure its somewhere in the garden. Someone will find it, she promised, thinking to herself maliciously, and keep it for their own profit!

**

Thank you Ma’am she chirped, at the encouraging words that had been spoken, luckily she could not hear the ones Angie was thinking to herself, and turning moved off, her scrumptious gown swishing pleasantly around her silver heels. Angie watched, as the girl disappeared in the crowd Angie marked her direction.

**

Angie Imagined if the girl had accepted her offer, and she had left with the vulnerable, unguarded princess to search in the garden, and in the process help relieve her of her remaining jewels. There would be enough light with the gas lamps that lined the paths in the garden. Enough light, so that as Angie helped the princess look, her fingers could slip ever so delicately slip in and search along her shiny sky blue gown.

**

Angie licked her lips slowly as she fantasied about the search. The girl bending down to look under a bush, Angie placing her knee sharply in a certain spot below the girl’s armpit, temporarily numbing her upper body. Allowing Angie enough time to pull off both her earrings without feeling it,( this also worked well on working off broaches placed in upper parts of gowns and dresses, not to mention necklaces!) The bracelet would be no problem; it would be the easiest and probably the first, snatched off while the rich girl’s attention was easily diverted away. Since she was not wearing silky gloves, her ring would be the trickiest, but manageable, by either having her walk too close to a water fountain and hopefully having her get her fingers wet, or by simple holding onto her hand and tripping her by stepping on her gowns hem. And just like that, Angie would become that much richer, the rich girl that much poorer. And it all would be done without giving the girl any additional stress, like say she had run into the two muggers Angie had chased off. They may not have been content with just the jewels of a girl dressed as she was that they had found wandering alone in the gardens at night.

**

As Angie excitedly thought about these things, she had trained her focus back upon her original meal ticket, whom for the second time that evening had almost been allowed to slip through Angie’s light fingers. Watching with half lidded eyes, the still dancing couple not unlike a wolf watches lambs, waiting for one to make an ill-fated move away from the flock. The lamb’s fate was sealed, when a vivacious blonde in a long wispy silken dress cut in on the dancing couple. Asking miss silver satin’s fiancé for a dance. He obliged, leaving his shimmering fiancée unaccompanied, nakedly exposed to the wolf that was Angie.

**

More than one way to skin a cat Angie thought, tingling from the thrill of the hunt her prey, now in a reachable situation. She happily headed towards the spot where Miss silver satin had moved off to. A small table, located conveniently by a powder room. One the way she grabbed a half full glass of red wine off a table. Angie circled around young miss silver satin, taking a position up about two table lengths behind her. She casually scoured the area; most of the nearby tables were deserted.

Knowing the band would stop playing soon for the evening; most of the couples were out on the dance floor. All in all, the situation presented the perfect opportunity for some one of Angie’s persuasion.

**

Angie watched as the young lady picked up a glittery silver clutch and opening it, started to search inside. Angie moved swiftly, catching up behind her , tripping intentionally into her, splashing some wine onto the front of the silver satin blouse as the unfortunate lady dropped her purse in surprise. Oh my gosh, I did not see you, miss silver satin pleaded apologetically to Angie, more concerned over Angie’s feelings than her soiled satin blouse. Angie accepted her apology and, producing a lacey silk handkerchief, began to wipe themselves both down.

Angie’s practiced eyes swiftly took it all in. Miss silver satin’s pretty earrings swaying out vulnerably from her long straggly hair as it fell into her face. The clasp of her necklace was also exposed and within easy grasp. A s she reached out for the floor to steady herself, Angie’s eyes took in the sparkling ring on her now wetted finger and then watched the wide bracelet with its’ easily open able clasp slip up glitteringly over her sleeve.

The girl, now thoroughly flustered, started to rise, tripping over her slippery long skirt( with no help from Angie) Angie caught her, taking advantage of the split second opening she had been waiting for and Angie took it, making her selection as she steadied the poor thing with one hand, as the other caressed along a slick silver satin back. Angie’s long supple fingers darted in and deftly did their trick, this time with no spiders interfering. She quickly removed her chosen glittery prize from the distracted lady, who never noticed so much as a prick as Angie removed the expensive piece from her person in the confusion.

**

Angie secreted he shiny jewel as she helped miss silver satin collect herself. Than they rose, and Angie happily accepted miss silver satin profuse and obviously well used, apology. Then, as she fumbled nervously with her thick glasses, Angie laid a calming hand upon her shoulder, her fingers relishing in the richness of her victims sleek ruffled blouse. Miss silver satin was by now so distracted and embarrassed that Angie was all but assured of a clean get away.

However, as an extra measure of caution Angie intentionally jarred silver satin’s elbow of the hand steadying her eye glasses. Thus sending her glasses falling from her face to the floor with a small clatter, then Angie kicked them under a table before the startled lady could react. Angie offered to help, but the lady implored that she was okay, just needed to find her glasses. Angie left as Miss silver satin started to frantically grope around for her glasses, her silver blouse and remaining jewels shimmering brightly along their miserable mistress..

Angie took her leave, knowing that once she found her glasses, Miss silver satin would flee for sanctuary into the ladies powder room, buying her more than enough time for Angie to make her escape. Taking one last look over the dance floor, she blithely saw that miss silver satins fiancé was still in the clutches of the vivacious blonde-haired girl, still safely out of the picture. Angie made her way with purpose to the rear exit leading to the garden that she had used earlier, intending to head out into the serenity garden to collect the hidden bracelet and pendent, adding them to her purloined plunder.

**

As she walked amongst the mostly deserted tables, her mind went to the woman in yellow taffeta and imagined that right about now she would be standing with raised arms and a forlorn look. Ruefully wincing as the man who was holding her mink busily stripped those luscious pearls from the neckline of her tight gown, as the shiny yellow material gleamed in the moonlight! Serves her right for being afraid of spiders, Angie thought unforgivingly.

***

Angie’s mind also went to the poor young princess in blue with the missing necklace. She looked towards the area she had headed, opposite of the back exit to the garden. She reluctantly decided not to push her luck, there was a sister and parents to contend with, and she really had no time left. So she decided to call it a day, a rather successful day, and made her way to retrieve her loot.

**

Angie had now reached the now deserted table by the back exit where the lady in the crimson gown and blood red rubies had been earlier, along with her rhinestone encumbered 10 year old daughter and handsome husband.

**

She paused between the table and the bench, something was not quite right, She eyed the area around the dance floor for any signs of trouble that may be centered on the quite valuable jewels now in her possession. All was quiet, except for a little murmur behind her. Turning she looked at the bench and was shocked to discover the soundly asleep ten year old, using the long rusty sable fur as a blanket. What have we here, Angie thought, licking her lips wickedly?

**

Angie pursed her lips, checking the coast; spotting the young girl’s parents, still on the dance floor, a safe distance away the other side of the room. No sign of miss silver satin. No one else was nearby. Perfect. She went over, bending down so the table hid her. The child looked so vulnerably innocent, sound asleep as she lay on her side, facing Angie. She was clutching an arm of the sable like a warm fuzzy teddy bear, her ring sparkling. Angie gently tugged the mink from the girl’s clasp, and gradually pulled until the fur swished away from along the inert silken figure on the bench, where it fell into a pile on the floor. The child looked very innocent, very vulnerable, like a sleeping princess. An earring lay exposed over one shoulder, her necklace dangled down slightly askew from her slender throat, the pin holding her sash, all of which shone brightly now that it was exposed to the low lights of the ballroom, still called out. Too bad, Angie thought to herself, too bad the mother had not dressed her little doll in real diamonds.

**

 

Angie again looked to the dance floor; she could see the mother’s jewelry twinkling brightly as the child’s parents danced close, very unaware of anything else but themselves. She looked back over the girl, contemplating. But the song was winding down, Angie stooped to pick up the sable, bird in hand she thought, and placing the rich fur over her arm, stood just as the song ended. Looking at the exit door, so near and yet so far, she started to hasten to it, but checked herself as the band immediately started another, rather slow song that Angie knew quite well.

**

She hesitated, incredibly, everyone was staying on the floor for the final dance, she looked back at the bench, and the sleeping imps exposed jewels still shined, tempting her to come for them. Angie knew that she would only have about four minutes. Always open to new challenges, Angie chose to answer that sweet little invite that the necklace was extending out to her. Checking once again to make sure the parents was still obliviously dancing; she laid the mink down by the door and eased back to the bench. Kneeling down, Angie began to perform the delicate operation.

**

Lifting up the necklace she gently tugged it loose from around the sleeping child’s neck until the clasp appeared. She subtly flicked open the clasp, then shamelessly slipped the necklace from around its perch on the little whelp’s throat. It flickered like some slithering shiny snake, glittering as it came away. Like taking candy from a baby, Angie drooled happily, as she let the necklace run along her fingertips while watching the sleeping princess for a few seconds.

**

Her fitted cream coloured dress shimmered with expensive richness in the shadowy light. The poor thing was so soundly asleep after her long exhausting day that Angie figured she could have peeled the dress off her without causing a stir. This for a pickpocket would be the ultimate test, the pinnacle of her criminal class. But, Angie thought; if she ever had the opportunity to do so, it would have to be worth her while, like a shiny gown, an appealing sky blue gown with half sleeves and scooped collar. And the jewels would be sapphire drop earrings, bracelet and ring, not plain rhinestones. She licked her lips at the enticing thought of such a perfect “coup fera”, than told herself to get back to work, time was money.

**

She slipped her hand along the satin cape being used as a pillow and felt under the girls head until she felt the cold earring she was laying upon. Deftly undoing the screw she pulled it free, watching with delight as it came out from underneath.

**

Angie than, gently lifted, and nimbly stroked back the girl’s ultra-soft hair, exposing her long silvery earring. She pulled the jewel out and laid it out upon the child’s shoulder, where it lay, shimmering vibrantly. Then she reached in with her fingers and began unscrewed its clasp. Pulling it free she added it to her growing collection. She next lifted the hand that had held the warm sable, gently prying open her clenched fingers. The sleeping child never stirred. Angie gently slipped off the glittering ring. She then peeled back a silky sleeve, checking for the bracelet, finding her wrist was bare. The rest of the jewels were hiding securely on the side she was laying upon. Smiling wickedly to herself, an idea popped into Angie’s head.

**

The music was now almost to the halfway point, and Angie thought for a brief second that she should leave . Another quick scan assured her the coast was still clear, and Angie decided to press her luck, eagerly going back to work, putting her idea into motion.

Angie fingers felt along the sleeping child’s waist until she located the brooch. Quickly unfastening the brooch from the chocolate satin sash, she pulled it out. Watching as the diamonds caught fire and burst into vibrant life, unusually vivid for plain rhinestones she thought contemplatively. Angie plopping it in with the growing pile of the sleeping girls purloined baubles. Again reaching in along the warm waist, Angie gradually tugged at the now undone sash. The sleeping girl, unconsciously obliged by turning over on her other side, as the sash was pulled away.

**

Her arm with the ring and bracelet was now exposed. Lifting the arm , and peeling back the puffy sleeve, Angie found and unclasped the bracelet, slipping it away, then allowing it to dangle in triumph before letting it join its purloined mates. Then lifting the child’s hand she pulled at the ring, it was a little tight. Angie licked her fingers, and moistened the girls finger, than began slipping the ring off ever so gently from the along her finger. Almost there, Angie thought, as the ring joined its abducted companions in her pocket.

 

**

As Angie finished pocketing the last of the girls jewels, her victim whimpers something discernible in her sleep, her small hand feeling to pull up the missing warm sable she had been using as a blanket. Angie quickly looked around, spying a cheap linen coat hanging on a nearby hook, she grasped it and laid it over the stirring girl, stroking her for a precious few seconds. Then rising, calmly Angie snatched a shiny purse from the table, and moved off, unbelieving of her luck. She reclaimed the sable fur, and strolled out the door without looking back.

**

As Angie closed the door she heard the last notes of the song waning from inside. She licked her lip, that was close, but her luck had held. Now all that remained was to visit the Cupid Statue In the garden to reclaim her other prizes. As she reached the statue, Angie realized that she still had the child’s satin sash in her hand.

She smiled as she tied it, blindfolding the cupid statues eyes. Retrieving and pocketing the now stone cold diamond bracelet, and the young Princess in blue’s necklace with its shimmering pendent, she slowly looked around, the cost was clear. Angie coolly made her way to the gate, the bored guard offering to help her with the mink she was carrying. , Angie stopped, and handed it to him. Then turning, allowed him to help her on with it. He puffed out his chest as Angie gave him a sweet smile; she thanked him, then turned and disappeared into the darkness of the night.

**

Angie disappeared from view into the foggy evening, relishing the warmth of the sensuous sable. Happily contemplating the small fortune in jewels it had been in contact with earlier that evening, and also the small fortune she had walked out of the reception with in her possession.

**

The guard watched the spot for some time where the pretty lady in the expensive fur had vanished in the mists. He fantasized for a good few minutes, wondered what had been behind the enchantingly secret smile she had given to him.

Excuse me, sir?, a female voice coming from the garden startles him, he had never heard anyone coming.

He turns, catching an eyeful of a long glamourous, brown satin gown, worn fetchingly by a willowy short haired pretty young thing. Diamonds blazed from around her throat, caught by the gas lights, and from around her white satin gloved wrists as she raised her hands in a pleading fashion.

She continues, pointing to a young girl in a smashing blue satin gown, bending over looking for something in the bushes. My sister lost her necklace and pendent while playing around here earlier, did you or anyone find it? She asked in a rather seductive tone of voice9 not a common, it was her regular voice)

No lady, no one turned in a necklace. Thank you sir, and she turns away, her gown flowing out behind her.

He watches for a minute as she and her sister both move elegantly down the path, continuing their search.

He sighed, and turns away, babysitting rich dames he mutters under his breath, what a dismal way to make a living. Why won’t this affair ever end he asked himself, as he reached for his silver pocket watch to check the time. Damnations he said, not finding it nor its chain and fob, must have dropped it in the alley earlier where I had gone for a nipper from his flask. He sauntered off quickly to the alley located in the direction Angie had disappeared, abandoning his post.

Soon after, a pair of dark figures who had been walking on the opposite side of the street, and had stopped to loiter when they spied the guard talking to some posh broad in a shiny brown dress, saw the guard leaving his post. They quickly stole with sinister intent across the road and entered into the gardens, disappearing into the darkness.

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This ended up being Angie’s first big score, She got more for the rhinestone set then she had imagined, the small brooch taken off the brown satin sash had proved to have real diamonds in its center! Also the princess in silky sky blue’s pendent and chain had fetched a nice tidy sum. The jewels lifted from the ladies in Green and Silver also realized quite a handsome profit, as did the sable and purse.

if one includes the real diamond ring slipped off the finger of a silky dressed debutante from the prom show and her rather nice haul of a slim pearl necklace and diamond pin from the Opera, the whole weekend was unimaginably successful.

**

From the profit realized, she had been able to spend a pleasant month away in Monte Carlo, even indulging in the purchase of a rich red wine coloured taffeta gown to wear.

Which she pleasantly found that, when paired with her deftly acquired collection of dripping rhinestone diamond jewelry, she attracted wealthy young males with expensive gold watches and fat wallets like honey bee drones to a bright moss rose.

**

She also enticed a long raven haired, Miss, richly clad in emerald silk, to enter into her snare.

But Angie did not make an entirely clean get away. For the last jewel to be taken was the girl’s brooch , and before Angie could hide it with the rest, the girl spotted its’ glitter in Angie’s hand, and with a gasp had looked down on her dress at the now vacant spot where it had been dangling ever so provocatively for Angie all evening.. Angie smiled at the girl as she had looked up in confusion. The girl had placed a hand to her throat, startled when feeling it bare of her necklace. She looked at Angie in hurt confusion, her eyes wide with fright. Angie placed a finger to the girl’s lips, hushing any fuss she may have been thinking of making over her missing jewelry, and turning her back to the forlorn miss, Angie left, not looking back….

**

But that was a story for another day, so we were promised by Angie, giving us an all too familiar look of devious satisfaction at making us wait.

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Editor’s Notes:

Our Thanks to Mr. J. Gardner for pointing out the existence of Mr. Monescu’s 1826 guide

If you enjoyed our little story, please like and leave a comment.

And if you wish, describe what intrigued you the most about it…

Thank You

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All rights and copyrights observed by Chatwick University, Its contributors, associates and Agents

No Part of this can reprinted, duplicated, or copied be without the express written permission and approval of Chatwick University.

These photos and stories are works of fiction. Any resemblance to people, living or deceased, is purely coincidental.

As with any work of fiction or fantasy the purpose is for entertainment only, and should never be attempted in real life.

We accept no responsibility

Fall Colors - Tall Aspens, Rugged Terrain.

 

©Copyright 2017 Karlton Huber Photography - all rights reserved.

 

Autumn in the eastern Sierra is such a magical time of year. Each year is different and each autumn day is different as the color change progresses through the process. I found this year to be especially surprising because there seemed to be a lot of color change happening in some of the lower elevations ahead of some of the higher elevations that usually change first.

 

Then like in this scene, there is always the unsolved mystery of why trees not 10 feet apart can be in such different states of change. Some are full of beautiful yellow leaves while outers are already completely barren. I like to think that this is part of Gods plan. If all the leaves changed at the same time and progressed through the process (green, yellow, red , orange, brown and fallen) in unison the window of opportunity to enjoy some of God's finest work would be shortened dramatically. Luckily, God has a kind heart and has created a system that gives us plenty of time to catch at least part of the show each year.

 

Thanks for stopping by and for your comments. You can also find me at:

 

Website | Facebook | Blog | Instagram

 

AKA Liftoff!

Chronicles of lifting Light :

Tales from The Poet and the Peasant

 

There is a certain daring “edge” in acting out a role playing game on a partner(s) in public, especially if (in our case) one favors pickpocketing.

It’s a certain adrenaline thrill, both addictive and desirable, that increases up until the “mark” is relived of one or more of her dangling valuables. Whether its carried out with a simple bump, a lift conveyed while, say dancing, or a squeeze play maneuvered with a second player, it all creates and holds a level of excitement most thrilling in its nature, quite erotic within its scope.

 

This Chronicle contains short essays on pickpocketing games played solely within our group over the past few years.

 

These were games only, done with full knowledge and consent of all the players ( with a couple of exceptions where the parties involved were not informed of the actual happenings until sometime after the fact.)

Any articles of jewelry lifted were returned to their original owners, albeit sometimes those owners at first thought the jewelry being returned had just simply fallen away.

The actual facts have been stretched, padded and enhanced, due primarily to the significant detail that I rather like those in my immediate circle, and in order to keep them liking me, have agreed to “put meat on the bone” so to speak, when putting pen to paper.

This journal is far from complete, and additional stories will be added as they are played out.

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The “Poet and the Peasant” Is a little backwater pub owned by Brian’s Aunt and Uncle. It’s a laid back place, music (mostly canned) , the usual caste of regulars ,Including us, and a generous section of ales and other “demon” drink.

The pub is housed in an ancient old building with all sorts of old Victorian era objects, found and given a home in the pub’s numerous nooks and crannies. Including the skull of poor Erik. Erik was a 17th century poet and balladeer who supposedly was beheaded for making several torrid lyrics about a certain Saxon king. His grinning skull sits high up in a shelf along a balustrade, usually with a cigar clamped in his jaws. Couldn’t tell how many times someone who had more than his fill of drink has tried to light it for the poor blighter. The pub is a regular howl around Halloween, thanks to Erik, who has obtained quite a degree of notability, despite being dead for all these long years.

Basically, Erik aside, the “Poet and the Peasant” is a great place to hang out and make plans with a pint in hand.

 

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Opening Act

Atonement

We were heading to a small resort that we once had stayed at for a wedding and reception. It was Just “Ginny” and I on a 4 day escape from reality. We were passing through one of the small towns on the way, when Ginny spotted a dress shoppe, with several mannequins wearing evening frocks. She had to stop, we had a function the next month and she had “nothing to wear”( Liar I thought grinning).

 

We went inside and on a “gently worn” rack she pulled out this long string sleeved satin number and tried it on. The young clerk said it was patterned after the one in the movie atonement ( which neither of us had seen) but its rich deep green( Irish green the clerk called it, which I really had no idea was a colour) really set off Ginny’s long copper hair, and I liked the way her hair laid down her bare backside.

 

We arrived at the resort in early afternoon and claimed our suite( paid for by an anniversary gift) and set out to explore the place. The resort was packed, and we found out that there were 2 evening wedding receptions taking place on Saturday. An Idea began to take seed and as we walked I found a way to bring it into conversation.

 

Ginny had brought her rhinestones ( see Album Chronicles of lifting Light, B) for a bit of date roleplay in our suite some chosen evening of our stay. I suggested that she should give her gown and the rhinestones a try in public. Where she asked? I than laid out my game plan and a smile crept across her face, lit up by the sun poking through the trees on the wooded path we had been walking. Ginny liked to dress up, and I used that trump card to my advantage.

 

At around 5pm I slipped into the larger of the two receptions (crashed if you like) and wondering over to the bar I got a drink and waited, nursing it. I was reasonably presentable in a suit jacket, slacks, silk shirt and satin tie. As I waited I found myself pretty much unnoticed, which was a far cry from what Ginny encountered when she cautiously entered about fifteen minutes later, green gown swirling, rhinestones all a glitter. It didn’t take long for the sharks to start circling. One lad started a conversation, and I watched her squirm a little, before putting my drink down and coming to my damsel’s rescue. I had to literally peel the bloke away from her. We went onto the dance floor, pretending like we had never met. As we danced through several songs I could tell by the look in Ginny’s eyes that she was feeling the same fire within that I was. Ready for part 2 ? I asked, she got a surprised look in her eyes, and began to check herself, uh uh I said, not till we leave. We went out together; I spied the bloke watching us from a table, and smirked to meself over his look of frustration.

 

Outside we started to walk along the promenade, joining along with several other ladies, charming in their in gowns and frills, with their tuxedoed escorts, escapees all of us from the receptions. Ginny felt exceptionally good as, with my arm around her, she cuddled into my side while we walked some distance. But our bliss was not long, when Ginny , looking back, said there was a hotel security cop heading our way. Damn I thought, pinched for crashing the reception.

 

The rent-a-cop came up to us, and placing a firm grip upon my shoulder(or tried, I was a good foot taller, where do they find these blokes?) talked directly to Ginny. Everything alright then Miss, he questioned Ginny, trying to sound professional, and he almost pulled it off, except he squeaked on the word Miss.

 

Why yes, officer Ginny said, pouring on the charm( which is a quite frightful weapon in her capable hands), thank you for your lovely concern, but why do you ask? I received a report that this man may have been bothering you, Ma’am he said , no squeaks this time. He looked at me, I just grinned back at him, waiting for Ginny to belt it out of the park. She smiled, her green eyes brite, and laying a hand on the “officers” chin, told him how adorable his concern was for her safety, but her husband and she made sure he saw her ring, is really not that much of a bother most of the time. Husband he started, than stopped, caught his embarrassment nicely, then tried to save it, but Miss, I heard you had lost a necklace.

Whatever reaction he had hoped by saying this, it was not the one he got. Oh that, she said, the clasp broke, so my husband took it for safe keeping, really, where would I have put it, and she stepped back and let him look her over for evidence of supporting her statement. Game, Set and Match, I smirked to myself!

With the way she looked in that satin gown, and her charm at full output, no mere mortal male would have been able to stand a chance. Well, he choked out, all’s good then isit, and releasing my shoulder; he turned heel, and walked off hurriedly, like a scolded puppy with its tail between its legs. Ginny giggled, well played I told her, well played. And, again with my arm around her and Ginny cuddling in, we continued our stroll, with Ginny letting out the occasional chortal of laughter over the whole incident.

  

We reached an overlook over the lake, where a pair of swans was meandering about. A young lady in a long white dress with a glittering bracelet around one wrist, was walking along the path that edged along the lake. The swans were near her, reminding me of a tele commercial I had seen long ago ( If anyone else remembers it please leave a comment).

 

Ginny caught me looking, wanna do the path luv, she whispered with in a most beguiling manner. We did so, and eventually found a rather isolated little nook behind a hedge grow. Here I will have to leave to the readers imagination what transpired there, for the only witnesses were the two of us, and a rather surprised chippy who crawled out of his hole for a gander…

 

On our way back we once again stopped at the overlook. Time to tally up I said. Ginny smiled and opening her purse pulled out a scrap of paper. She showed it to me, on it was written the word necklace. Lucky guess, did you feel me take it I asked. Of course she lied; I could have done it better. Wanna bet I teased. Maybe someday we’ll see she responded. Now the way the game worked was that I pretended to be a light fingered jewel thief, with my eyes on the lady in green’s jewels. It was my objective to lift a piece of Ginny’s jewellery some point in the evening..

 

Ginny agreed to it on the condition that beforehand she would write down a piece of jewellery on a piece of paper, if it matched the piece I had lifted, than I could decide what we would do the next evening, if not, she would decide. So later, as we had a few drinks in a nearby pub ( still dressed in “costume”) I (the winner) outlined the plans for the next evening.

 

So the following evening, after a rather nice feast by the fireplace in the resorts great room, we found ourselves once again in a bar ( this time the resorts lounge). I was wearing the same suit, and had Ginny’s purloined necklace in my jacket pocket. Ginny was wearing a black satin blouse, ¾ sleeved, with long white and blacked stripped skirt. She wore her gold jewellery, and her long hair was up, held by rhinestone clips. At one point she excused herself to the loo, and when she returned took the chair next to me, and started to come on to me. I played along and after a few drinks, and dances, she led me out to the lobby.

 

Making way outside to the long wooden walkaway of the promenade, we began our way along it. Finding an isolated bench, we began to make out, as if we were strangers who had just met. After a long (glorious) while, we stood( wobbly) and made our way down to the lake, and continued our light petting.

 

At one point Ginny stopped, and looking me in the eye, said, well sir, its been fun, but id better go. Immediately I patted my pocket, the necklace was gone. Naughty I said, distracting me on the bench hussy, I teased. Her eyes got a gleam, follow me she said. We retraced our steps, hand in hand, and she led me to the the bench, and then surprisingly passed it. We regained the lobby, and she stopped by a corner, where a larger fern like plant sat in a rather big ceramic pot. Reaching in, she pulled out the necklace. Very good I said, never felt you take it.

 

So, I win then, she smirked. Yes I agreed, I had guessed wrong by thinking she had picked my pocket on the bench. So let’s go an collect me winnings then, sir, she ordered me, her eyes large and hungry. As we made our way I tried to get her to tell me when she had lifted the necklace, but she just placed a secret little smile on her lips, and remained silent on the subject….

*******************************************************************************

 

Act 2

Squeeze Play

 

Anyone who has taken the bother to riffle through my earlier Chronicles of Lifting Light, knows I have a twin sister who at times past has been my foil to practice upon. Well, I will leave it up to you to decide who the foil was in this tale.

  

We were all hanging out at the pub (“Poet and the Peasant” of course) one evening, the four of us, being the silly selves that mid- twenties youth are prone to being, especially when alcohol is involved.

 

We were trying to drink away the memories of what our previous week of work had given us, and were well on our way to meeting that objective, when a song from the band Cold Play come on. Ginny had asked my sister who it was, and instead of answering right away, she gave something a bit of thought, then my sister started smirking. Cold Play, like squeeze Play , remember “Ginny?”

 

Both Girls just started giggling, “Brian” just got a sullen look at the memory, and I, I just reflected…..

 

In our University years, my sister worked part time for a company that raised funds for charities, like OXFAM, etc. Among the various types of events were a couple of “Black Tie” affairs that I enjoyed because it gave Brian and I the chance to escort my Sister and Ginny ( the girls ever beautiful in fancy dress) to attend them.

 

Now, my sister had this co-worker,”Shiela”, who was absolute vinegar to my sister’s honey, hell, she was vinegar to any pretty female’s honey! She was a squawker, a squealer, and a backstabbing slag, in other words, not a very nice girl atoll. She was also was twice divorced from wealthy young scions who could not spot a gold digger for the life of them until they had been broadsided along the head with her gilded shovel.

 

During one warm late Autumn we were attending one of the Charity Dances being held in the big city proper. They had a pair of bands lined up, one kind of a Disco’ish throwback, and for later, a proper one that played a more romantic beat, one that called for slow dancing. The Girls were more into the Disco then we males were( a feeling that affected most of us in attendance) and the floor was flooded with a gaggle of swishing dresses and gowns dancing and swirling around to the frantic beat of the music, all performed with swirling lights in the darkened, smog filled dance floor, while the guys just sat around enjoying the show being put on.

 

As Brian and I watched the provocative females on the floor dancing, we noticed that our girls were slowly moving out amongst the throng of pretty dancers, rather than maintaining one area. Soon they had moved next to “Shiela”, who was dancing with this cousin of hers. Now I found this surprising, because Sis and Ginny had been throwing daggers with their eyes at “Shiela” all evening. She had been sitting with her wealthy new boyfriend, who was always bending to her demands, as evidenced by the expensive new finery she was sporting, which really had gotten a certain Twins goat. So it was with some puzzlement that when her cousin took a breather, Ginny and my twin slipped in to take her place, moving in rhythm with the now quite intoxicated “Shiela”.

 

Sis was facing “Shiela” and Ginny was behind her, all three of them gyrating their arms, hands and most of their other body parts in motion, up down and all around each other , so close at times that you would have had an effort at squeezing a hand between them.

 

What’s that pair up to now? Brain questioned me, as if I had a hand in it, I just shook my head, knowing only that I wanted to be in the middle of that sandwich instead of “Shiela”, but as it turned out, good thing I wasn’t.

 

We watched as the long song went on, with its deep bass beat that almost sounded like it had been lifted from some horror flick. Ginny and Sis continued to revolve, twist and swirl around the guileless “Shiela” as their colourfully brite (slinky) dresses shimmered in a most provocative fashion, bathed as they were caught by the dimly lit, smoke filled, dance floors blue strobes. A few times “Shiela” seemed to lose her footing, and fell against my Sister, who I thought took it surprisingly well as she gently steadied her foe.

 

Then the song ended, and all three girls laughed and giggled, actually hugged one another. I heard Brian letting out an chiding snort, I , well I was still just mesmerized by the whole act. Ginny and My Sister than walked the slightly dizzy “Shiela” back to her table, even going so far as to help her set down, before turning and heading back to our table. Both of them wearing chuff grins like the kittens that had eaten the canary.

 

Wotcher?, said Brian questioning their look. Oh God I thought, knowing the answer, for I had been watching “Shiela” as the girls had left and approached. My sister, looking around, held out her hand and opened her fist. There, all balled up and glittering, was the expensive diamond pendent of the set of matching diamonds that “Shiela” had been flaunting about to everyone all evening.

 

Brian Jumped all over the two, giving them quite the bollocking, “games we played on each other was one thing, but what you pair had done was wade into some very dangerous waters indeed”! So what’s next I chimed in, and by the looks on their heavily made-up faces realized the silly twits hadn’t thought of that end. We hastily discussed the matter, knowing that time was anything but on our sides. Finally Brian took it from my admonished(seemingly) twin, and marching it up to the disc jockey, had him make an announcement describing what his “sister” had found in the loo.

 

“Shiela”, whom we all had been watching, let out a shriek as her hands flew groping to her chest in fruitless examination, jumped up and immediately claimed it, or tried to as the Jocky had a little bit of fun with it first. “Shiela” and her haplessly star struck Beau, were so hopping mad at the Jocky, they pretty much gave no thought as to how the pretty thing actually had been lost in the first place. This was a lucky break for a couple of girls, who still sat their smugly smiling, as Brian tried in vain to continue scolding them. Me, I just looked at the twittering pair, wondering, pondering thoughts of me own.

 

Now it wasn’t until a couple of years later on the night my sister made the remark about the cold play song that the girls felt comfortable talking a bit more about the incident .And before Brian could listen without tabooing the subject. And it was then that I learnt how the pair of them had managed to take the diamonds from “Shiela”

 

It turned out the two had had no real plan, just that they had been discussing “Shiela” between themselves and had been debating over how fun it would be to knock her down a peg or so. One of the scenarios presented was to have her be given the shock of losing a piece of her expensive jewelry, and they even discussed bringing me into the fold, but thought better of it.

 

Although I am not sure if I would have taken them up on it, but since then I have thought out different ways I would have approached the problem, both by myself, and with the girls help. Although I wouldn’t have tried for the necklace, I figured her ring or bracelet would not have been beyond my scope of achievement. Although, with the girls help…….

 

Anyway they finally decided to try it themselves, after all how hard could it be to take, say a cocktail ring from “Shiela’s” sweaty finger as she was dancing away on the crowded floor?

 

They decided to join in the dance and get close to “Shiela” and if an opportunity arose, my sister was to signal Ginny by rubbing a finger alongside her nose to bump against “Shiela”, pushing the hapless B… into me devious twin. It was Ginny who came up with the name “squeeze play”, because I once had grasped and squeezed her from behind, removing her ring in the process.

 

Now “Shiela” was wearing what I guess is called an A-line gown, where her front was totally covered by the gowns shiny material, no gloves, just sweat glistened skin. As they moved in on “Shiela” Ginny took position behind, while Sis took the front, and at one point laid a hand upon “Shiela’s” shoulder, “Shiela” did likewise as they swayed to the deep rhythmic beats. Sis tried to grasp “Shiela’s” free hand, the one where she was wearing a diamond cocktail ring, but she kept missing. In the process she realized that the hand she had placed on her victims shoulder was almost touching the thick gold chain of her nemesis’s necklace, which held the diamond pendent that was bouncing about.

 

Looking “Shiela” directly in the eyes she began to work the necklace along as they danced, until her fingers felt the clasp. It was lobster clasp, similar to one my sister had on the emerald necklace Brian had given her. Sis gave it an exploratory push, and it surprisingly opened under her fingers. Startled at what had happened, she forgot the signal, and nodded to Ginny, who plowed into the hapless “Shiela’s” backside, as my sister felt “Shiela” fall against her. She whisked off the necklace with one hand, while steading the giggling “Shiela” with her other. Backing away she placed both hands behind her back as “Shiela” turned to receive Ginny’s apologies. Sis balled up the chain in one hand, holding it tightly closed for the remainder of the dance. They helped “Shiela” back to her table, my Sister placing the fist holding the necklace alongside her victims back as they helped guide the still giggling “Shiela” to a seat.

 

Walking away, my Sister thought that it had been almost scary how easily it had been to open the clasp and pluck off the necklace. It shouldn’t have been, she kept telling herself, but she knew it was, for she had the evidence in her hand, and she was not even close to ever being a professional about such things. My twin has said that afterwards that it had given her a lot of perturbed thoughts when wearing any good jewelry of hers in public, (particularly her emeralds with the Lobster clasp) and finds herself on occasion still doing spot checks whenever she has been brushed by someone. But then, I think we all do on occasion, knowing the kind of games we like to play.

 

So as one can see, overall ,this is a rather touchy subject to tackle. But there was no denying that Sis (and Ginny I suspect) were proud of their accomplishment at the time. It was almost like my twin was trying to impress upon me that I was not the only one with light fingers. A subject that, trust me, has been, and will continue to be explored down a sometimes crooked “garden” path.

  

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Anyone who has read Chronicles B knows that Ginny and Brian both received the upcommence for the manner in which they had gotten my sisters got at the wedding reception. But as for me, she waited a bit, biding her time, for like the proverbial elephant( which she has a bit of a collection) my twin does not forget.

Upcoming :

 

And revenge is a dish best served cold.

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In Appraisal

I do highly encourage anyone who has read my chronicles,( or looked at the clips below) and on the off-chance may actually have been entertained by them, and would like me to divulge more of our tomfooleries , to please leave behind a comment expressing that point.

Thank You

 

Food for thought:

Jewelry lifting Clips

www.youtube.com/watch?v=HAZdjhNVjxk&authuser=0

www.youtube.com/watch?v=Ls8rw2V1QCU&authuser=0

www.youtube.com/watch?v=4RbLiI9ZFQ8&authuser=0

www.youtube.com/watch?v=9XZ8s-R9vl4

www.youtube.com/watch?v=ofodSjKQ_-8

 

***********************************************************

Courtesy of Chatwick University Archives

^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^

DISCLAIMER

All rights and copyrights observed by Chatwick University, Its contributors, associates and Agents

 

The purpose of these chronological photos and accompanying stories, articles is to educate, teach, instruct, and generally increase the awareness level of the general public as to the nature and intent of the underlying criminal elements that have historically plagued humankind.

 

No Part of this can reprinted, duplicated, or copied be without the express written permission and approval of Chatwick University.

 

These photos and stories are works of fiction. Any resemblance to people, living or deceased, is purely coincidental.

As with any work of fiction or fantasy the purpose is for entertainment and/or educational purposes only, and should never be attempted in real life.

We accept no responsibility for any events occurring outside this website.

 

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Bína:

I don´t get it...

 

Zabya:

Weird.

 

Bína:

I mean how it can be? Unbelievable!

 

Zabya:

Totally.

 

Bína:

We followed the instructions..

 

Zabya:

Truly.

 

Bína:

So, why the jam jar opened counterclockwise!?

 

Zabya:

Dunno..

 

Bína:

It should have opened clockwise..

 

Zabya:

It was tasty tho.

 

Bína:

* Siiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiigh *

With the construction of the Central Washington Railway in 1889, Govan was designated as a place in Lincoln County WA. The discovery of a large sandbank in the area in the autumn of 1890 created a boom town atmosphere as a crew of workmen complete with a steam shovel, extracted sand for the railroad construction. The name is derived from R.B. Govan, a construction engineer employed by the Central Washington Railway. Govan has been the scene of several unsolved murders. Reported December 1902 as "The most brutal crime ever committed in the county." was the axe murder of Judge J.A. Lewis and his wife, Penelope. The elderly Lewis kept sums of money about the house. It was believed robbery was the motive. Govan's eventual demise was hastened in 1933 when the community was bypassed by US Route 2. Only one retail store remained in business as of 1940.

 

www.ghosttownsofwashington.com/govan.html

www.scenicusa.net/120810.html

 

Photo of an abandoned house captured via Minolta MD Zoom Rokkor-X 24-50mm F/4 lens and the bracketing method of photography. In the ghost town and unincorporated community of Govan. Columbia Plateau Region. Inland Northwest. Lincoln County, Washington. Early March 2018.

 

Exposure Time: 1/250 sec. * ISO Speed: ISO-160 * Aperture: F/8 * Bracketing: +1 / -1 * Film Plug-In: Ilford Delta 3200

With the construction of the Central Washington Railway in 1889, Govan was designated as a place in Lincoln County WA. The discovery of a large sandbank in the area in the autumn of 1890 created a boom town atmosphere as a crew of workmen complete with a steam shovel, extracted sand for the railroad construction. The name is derived from R.B. Govan, a construction engineer employed by the Central Washington Railway. Govan has been the scene of several unsolved murders. Reported December 1902 as "The most brutal crime ever committed in the county." was the axe murder of Judge J.A. Lewis and his wife, Penelope. The elderly Lewis kept sums of money about the house. It was believed robbery was the motive. Govan's eventual demise was hastened in 1933 when the community was bypassed by US Route 2. Only one retail store remained in business as of 1940.

 

www.ghosttownsofwashington.com/govan.html

www.scenicusa.net/120810.html

 

Photo of an abandoned house captured via Minolta MD Zoom Rokkor-X 24-50mm F/4 lens and the bracketing method of photography. In the ghost town and unincorporated community of Govan. Columbia Plateau Region. Inland Northwest. Lincoln County, Washington. Early March 2018.

 

Exposure Time: 1/250 sec. * ISO Speed: ISO-160 * Aperture: F/8 * Bracketing: +1 / -1 * Color Temperature: 9300 K * Film Plug-In: Fuji Superia 400

Here’s why Future Ventures led the Series A of The Better Meat Co., announced today.

 

We are convinced that in the long run, we won't slaughter animals for meat. Although we believe this is inevitable, on Earth and Mars, it takes concerted effort to get us there. And as we saw with electric cars, you have to have a better product to catalyze a change. Saving the world is the byproduct.

 

After investing in some of the pioneers of cellular ag and precision fermentation, we pondered what problem remained unsolved by the mainstream approaches to slaughter-free meat and began a quest for the best cost economics and speed of scaling. For cellular ag and plant-based approaches, cost has been their biggest challenge, and the meat market is highly price elastic.

 

We did a thought experiment: given all of the approaches to alt-protein out there, which will be the lowest cost 50 years from now? We assumed all R&D efforts reach their ultimate end points by then. I think we found the winner: Better Meat goes from seed to harvest in under 17 hours! No plant or animal can compete with that growth rate. The key: growth from cell expansion instead of cell division, part of the magic of the kingdom of fungi. And they have mastered continuous production off simple sugar feedstocks with no waste stream. The only downstream processing is some dehydration.

 

At their current research scale facility (where we visited in the photo above), they already beat beef on cost, and soon chicken. Some of the key drivers from their patented process: fastest growth cycle of any organism, continuous production, minimal downstream processing (unlike plant protein isolates, for example, where most of the plant biomass is byproduct), and it’s a nutritious whole food. It’s also shelf stable at room temperature for easy shipping. So, it should scale more rapidly and cost-effectively than other approaches can ever achieve.

 

Oh, and it is delicious and tastes like meat, even better than pure meat in some blended product taste tests (think hamburger or sausage blends).

 

They are a B2B ingredient supplier, and the first to get FDA and USDA approval for blended meat products. The Series A will allow them to scale to tens of millions of pounds of annual production for a number of large food companies.

 

Company: www.BetterMeat.co

 

Today’s funding news in AgFunder, Vegconomist , Protein Production Tech, and GreenQueen

One down, one more to go! An exquisite necklace of flickering diamonds waiting to be nimbly slipped away from the throat of its unsuspecting wearer. Now just to make sure the husband of the silken gowned brunette displaying the jewels in question was still safely out of the picture...

  

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The above depiction appeared on the cover of True Detective June 1953 Vol. 59 No. 2

The portrayal below did not.

*****

The Silken whisper of Flickering Desires

 

A Chronicle

 

Adapted from the Final Entry Entitled:

Their Regal Gambit

Subtitled:

While Sherlock Holmes vacationed

 

The first score had been made, now for the Coup de Grace! So far their little operation had gone as smooth as silk, or in this case, satin. Now just to make sure the husband of the silken gowned brunette displaying the jewels in question was still safely out of the picture! Then Mollie would let her husband know that with the coast clear, freeing him to stage his approach of the lady in the long swishing satin gown he had been keeping an eye on all evening. The one who was wearing the exquisite necklace of fiery flickering diamonds, just daring someone to expertly slip it away the throat of its unsuspecting owner.

 

And therein lay the rub, She happily thought….

 

As Mollie made her way down the quiet corridor to the gentlemen’s smoking lounge, she lovingly played through her mind the series of unfortunate ( or fortunate?) events that had led her and her husband to this place. It had all began with an innocent one named Tabitha…….

 

Mollies’ Flash back

 

They had first come across Tabitha at a resort casino deep in the Catskills. Mollie and her husband had been there about three days, scoping out the grounds, and its wealthy clientele. At the casino they both spotted Tabitha at the same time. She was seated at a baccarat table, really standing out in an elegant dress of gold and black striped silk and velvet Her well-toned body displayed numerous pieces of expensive jewelry. A fat little purse dangled, unheeded by her side. Tabitha had held Mollie’s attention mainly due to the strong resemblance she had to herself. Tabitha’s jewelry, a flashy diamond journey style necklace, matching earrings, wide diamond tennis bracelet, and multiple gem encrusted rings, had held Mollies pickpocket husbands’.

 

Mollie went on to the bar and watched as her husband waited for the seat next to Tabitha to become vacant. Then he sat, asking for chips, while unobtrusively eyeing Tabitha’s bracelet. He began striking up a conversation with Tabitha, finding her to be an easy mark. He soon learned from the chatty girl that she was a divorced, upper executive for a well-known digital arts company servicing the movie industry. It was during this conversation that Tabitha babbled about the upscale, invitation only(you know), black tie formal ball she would be attending in England the next month. Now, as her husband was keeping Tabitha occupied Mollie had walked by the pair, ‘tripping’ into her husband, who palmed off to her , the diamond bracelet which had been ever so subtly slipped from around the unwary Tabatha’s’ wrist. Walking away with the bracelet secured in her purse, Mollie made her way to their small bungalow. Her husband did not break in his conversation with Tabitha; a mark would seldom suspect a friendly person of stealing from her.

 

Later that evening, Mollie wore the pricy bracelet while mutually admiring it over a bottle of merlot with her husband. They discussed the high-class affair Tabitha had been bragging about. Wistfully, Mollie admitted it was a shame they had not received an invite. Her husband smiled, and pulled a thickly embossed and crested envelope from his pocket. Easily adopting a British accent, he said “The silly little twit was carrying this in her purse!” The envelope revealed a pair of invitations to the Princess’s Jubilee Royal Ball. As the pair continued to empty the bottle of fine merlot, what had started as speculation, turned towards reality, and soon plans had been laid.

 

As they lay in bed later that night, Mollie turned to her husband, just think about the jewels that will be worn at the English Ball, she shivered with the delightful thoughts. Do you remember the last time we were in England? Mollie looked at her husband slyly, you remember, the Wriggling Whelp Whispering Wisk! She stated teasingly. Mollie knew the quickest way to get her husband’s goat was coming up with silly phrases to describe his more outlandish endeavors. Such phrases like The Tingling Touch Ice Melt, The Slippery Slick Taffeta Pull, The Glossy Gowned Dangling Peel, or her personal favorite, The Ticklish Wedge Clam Dip, never failed to get a response. In this case the response was a brief pillow fight ending up with them reminiscing about the last time they had “visited” England a few years back.

 

There had been a rambunctious doe eyed Fourteen year old in a shiny dress who had been oblivious to the valuably delicious gold pendent studded with small rubies and emeralds that sparkled ever so invitingly as it swung from her throat. A pair of matching dangling earrings dripped from her ears as she has run around un minded by her elders. Mollie had indignantly stated that the antique trinkets were simply just too expensive for a child so squirm inly young to be trusted with. Mollie had been right.

 

After talking a bit about the English Girls pendent, which had been an unexpected windfall, Mollie came back to the present and asked if the lady in the maroon silk that her husband pointed out the previous evening would be wearing the same jewels to the dance tomorrow night? Or better her husband replied sleepily, good Mollie pronounced, I did like her emeralds.

 

In Merry Ole England

 

They had arrived in England several weeks before the Royal Ball and began the preparations.

 

In an irony of fate, the profit they had realized from poor Tabitha’s bracelet had paid for a large chunk of their little excursion. Keeping his accent, and adding a trim beard, Mollies husband looked radically different from the man Tabitha had encountered. During the weeks following their arrival, the pair had practiced like they always did before undertaking a new venture. But this time it was with a more daring edge, they quite simply could not afford being caught red handed in a foreign country. Mollie assumed her practice the role. That of the richly dressed, Well jeweled quarry. Her husband would stalk and attempt to relieve her of a piece of her jewelry as she went about her business, shopping! The idea being that, If he was able to do so without being caught by an obviously aware Mollie, than he should have no problem at the Royal Ball. As it usually happened when they practiced in this manner, her husband did incredibly well. Mollie had had several pieces of jewelry vanish from her person during the week, without her noticing how or when.

 

The final night of practice Mollie decided to dress to kill. Looking quite devastating in a glossy gold halter and a long brown velvet skirt with gold stiletto heels clicking as she moved. A diamond heart pendant hung down from her neck, swaying provocatively out from between her breasts. A bracelet, similar to Tabitha’s purloined diamonds, was wrapped around her wrist.

 

She left their penthouse and made her way to the street outside. Some type of festival was going on as she waded through the crowded streets to the nightclub. Her rings sparkled as they kept rhythm with her swaying diamond waterfall earrings. Just daring her husband to make a move for any of them.

 

Mollie drank and danced the night away with no hide or hair of her husband until she returned late that evening to their apartment. She found him in the hot tub, smirking. She undressed and joined him. Okay, how did u do it she demanded? I felt nothing, no one bumped or brushed against me all evening that I was not aware of. He opened his fist, allowing her heart diamond pendant to dangle freely in front of her. A magician never reveals his tricks my little cat, he purred, as the pendant swayed in a sparkling arch.

 

Cat was short for “Cat Lady”, a moniker he had placed upon her when she had broken into a sleeping woman’s room and removed the jewels from her gold case, and even managed to slip off a ring she was wearing. The fact that she was passed out in a drunken stupor, still dressed in her long party gown, didn’t count , or so her husband teased.

 

You should have been a surgeon! , my dear, Mollie exclaimed with pride. Then she leaned towards him, her green eyes gleaming in earnest, time for a real practice run Mon Cherie, she said in dead seriousness. Then Her eyes opened wide, I got it she exclaimed, I’ll call it The Slinking Sneaky Shearing Snag she pronounced joyfully, getting a face ful of water in reply to her effort. Okay Cat, let’s get down to business he retorted, I know just the affair. Mollie listened intensively as her Husband described their next plans, derived while eavesdropping on a couple of ladies shopping in a jewelers.

 

The next weekend (two weeks to the evening before the Royal Ball) Mollie found herself at a quaint upscale wedding reception held in the large gardens of a country church. She was attired in the same bewitching ensemble that she had been wearing on the final night of practice. Her only jewels were a recently acquired pair of sparkly cascading earrings set with emeralds and diamonds. The affair of the plump piqued peacock plucking she had mused while getting dressed. The only other exception was that the long fiery red hair she had inherited from her Irish namesake grandmother had been cut and dyed blond. Blue contacts had also been added to the disguise to hide her vivid green eyes.

 

They soon targeted an older jewel laden snob at the reception. While Mollie engaged the mark in a mostly one sided conversation(the older ladies) the lady had become so deeply engrossed about talking about herself and her ties with royalty, that she never detected being relieved of a heirloom antique gold chain and jeweled pendent by Mollies husband who had approached her unnoticed from behind.

It was all Mollie could do no to bring attention to it by looking at the wickedly expensive piece as it was slipped up and away from the Dowager’s ruffled heavy satin blouse.

 

This time it was mollies turn to keep chatting as her husband headed to the door. He had almost made it when two youths ran into him as they scurried away from a rather sullen looking tween girl they had been teasing, and now were in possession of her purse. Mollie stole a look as she saw her husband topple onto the chasing girl. He managed to extracted himself from the girls long slinky gown that she had probably been forced into by an overly conceited mother. He apologized, and left the girl to go after her antagonizes. Later, when Mollie had caught up to him she teased him about his clumsiness. He just smiled, and pulled out from his vest pocket the most exquisitely matched pearls that the youth had been openly displaying from around her throat and wrist at the reception!

 

They were, most definitely, ready. The fated evening could not come soon enough. But it finally did.

 

They had had no problem with using the fancy invitations to gain entrance. Security was heavy, as expected, but with a very lax atmosphere. Mollie was wearing the salmon coloured gown she had had especially made for such occasions, her new blond hair style and the blue contacts. In a coup foray of sorts, Mollie wore the pearls that had been taken by her husband during his run in with the sullen girl at the wedding reception. Her husband was wearing his usual tux with a hand tied bowtie. His ruffled sleeves easily moved up and down along his wrists.

 

Mollie and her husband split up, each spending the first few hours mingling solo, and taking it all in as they thoroughly enjoyed the Ball and all its many stimulating attractions. It had gone smooth as silk. Spending the first few hours prowling while the guests liquored up Mollie scoping out exactly the right candidates. Dangling jewels with easy clasps were everywhere!, it was surprising how the best of jewel makers skimped on the clasps required to keep the expensive pieces in place. Clothing also made a difference. Silks and satins were quiet and slipped easily. Taffeta could be whispery, more of a challenge. Velvet could easily snag as a piece was being lifted. But these were the costliest of materials, and the wearers would logically be wearing the costlier of jewelry.

 

Mollie and her husband regrouped several hours later, unobtrusively under the pretense of dancing. Gently discussing their plans. They settled on three likely prospects amongst the almost three hundred present. The first was an older spinster type wearing a luxurious dress of embroidered navy silk and displaying jewelry studded with diamonds and sapphires. The second was a middle aged snotty blonde wearing a shamelessly low cut green silk taffeta gown (which Mollie secretly liked)wearing a thick gold bracelet studded with vulgarly large rubies surrounded by a sea of small sparkly diamonds. She was alone, and a heavy drinker. The third was a longshot. A lanky , flighty brunette wearing immensely valuable jewels of blindingly sparkling Diamonds. Her necklace alone was in the upper hundred thousand range, with a clasp that was one of the easiest to coax open. The only problem was that she came with an obviously newlywed husband who doted on her every move. Both were heavy drinkers, and if he would only leave his wife’s side for, say about fifteen minutes, the necklace would be theirs!

 

They had decided that any one of the three would produce results worth a king’s ransom, appropriately enough, all things considered. The plan was for her husband to take his time selecting the easiest jewel to acquire from amongst the ones the three marks were displaying , make his move, and pass it off to Mollie who would leave forthwith, while her husband stayed a little while longer to make sure everything remained calm before making his exit stage right via the hallway.

 

As Mollie went to her station, she saw the Blue silken lady, along with her sapphires and diamonds, leaving with a rather unsavory looking male, eyeing her with a look Mollie knew all too well. Mollie decided to follow them, thinking to herself that some women are just prone to being victimized. Good luck with that one Mollie thought unkindly, as she stole one last look at the ladies glistening sapphires, hope he leaves her with something she sarcastically wished wickedly to the couple’s backside as they went out the exit at the end of the hall. One down and out she thought. Then she spied the husband of the newlywed pair heading down the hall towards her with an older, grey bearded man. Getting close she heard them talking about the Gentlemen’s smoking lounge. Mollie decided to give her husband a signal, but when she found him he was already in the arms of the blond. Molly immediately noticed the absence of the jeweled bracelet from his partners’ wrist. She went back to her table. Immediately she was set upon by some drunken snob asking her to dance. She allowed herself to be taken up into his arms. Spending a few unenchanting minutes with Mr. two left feet, before her husband tapped him on the shoulder cutting in. They danced, Mollie placing a hand into his pocket and feeling something cold and metal wrapped her hand around it. Looking him in the eyes she told him about the now unguarded bride, as she palmed the willowy blonde’s bracelet. They decided to go for it, and as the music ended, Mollie made her way to the hall, where she secreted the blondes bracelet safely away

 

One down, one more to go! An exquisite necklace of flickering diamonds waiting to be nimbly slipped away from the throat of its unsuspecting wearer. Now just to make sure the husband of the silken gowned brunette displaying the jewels in question was still safely out of the picture! Then to let her husband know that with the coast clear, he was free to stage his approach of the lady in the long swishing satin gown he had been keeping a drooling eye on all evening. The one wearing the exquisite necklace of flickering diamonds waiting to be so expertly slipped away from the throat of its unsuspecting wearer.

 

She was able to see the groom in windowed room, the husband and his friend were smoking a pair of long cigars and drinking brandy in large glass snifters. Mollie passed unnoticed as she mad e her way to the ladies powder room. He was still there, only halfway through a long stogie as she passed again on her way back. Neither time was she observed. Mollie mad her way back to the Ballroom. She sat down at one side of the room, once again allowing the sights of so many bejeweled women to soak in. Her husband was dancing with a lady in a flowing red ball gown, jewels sparkling in abundance, not aware of the danger so close at hand, nor that even with her husband and his particular skill set so close to them, that at that moment nothing could be safer from his fingertips. Finally she caught her husband’s eye. Mollie innocently rubbed a finger along the side of her nose, a subtle signal that it was safe for him to precede.

 

Mollie was now uncharacteristically having butterflies in her stomach; it was a huge gamble, trying to get away with a pair of thefts in this inhospitable atmosphere. She kept second guessing herself, Bird in hand she kept thinking. But the lure was too great, and it was with a heavy sigh of relief when Mollie saw her husband finally kiss the hand of the young bride after their dance. Mollie could see that she was no longer sporting the thin silver necklace and its row of at least two caret diamonds that had been encircling her throat with their rippling flashy brilliance all evening. Molly stayed put, not daring to leave until her husband had brushed by her in passing and made his way out the hallway to the exit. She waited for a long fifteen minutes, then curling her hand around the necklace that had been dropped into her lap as he had passed; she gained the safety of the hallway. Just in time. For coming down the hallway was none other than the lady in the long luxurious gown and now bare throats groom and his distinguished looking friend. She passed by them, feeling the men eyeing her with roving wolfish gazes. Then she passed them, and proceeded unhindered to once again enter the ladies’ powder room where the necklace soon joined with the Blondes bracelet in its hiding spot.. Than calmly Mollie left, walking past two security Bobbies, virtually unnoticed. The Groom had been absolutely ignorant to the fact that his young Bride’s ridiculously valuable necklace had walked right past him out the door.

 

Mollie did not let herself really breathe until she had gained the safety of the street. She allowed herself to imagine the commotion as the news of the missing jewels were circulated around the cavernous Ballroom. There would be a flurry of activity, flashes and sparkles as the women checked themselves reassuringly that they were still in possession of their trinkets. Mollie would have loved to have stayed and watched, but obviously could not do so. She rejoined her husband at their meeting place and they drove off. They made their way to Ireland where they spent a cautious week touring before leaving for the states.

 

Once the profit was realized from their haul that eventful evening, including obnoxious Dowagers the jeweled antique pendent, and was added in to the modest amount they had already accumulated from previous adventures, Mollie and her husband were able to retire to Ireland and live quite an unpretentious life together in a small stone manor in the woods.

 

>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>

 

All rights and copyrights observed by Chatwick University, Its contributors, associates and Agents

No Part of this can reprinted, duplicated, or copied be without the express written permission and approval of Chatwick University.

 

Artist

Edwin Georgi (1896 - 1964)

Circa 1948?

 

Read More about Edwin Georgi at the end of the Algonquin Roundtable recount..

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“We were telling stories, trying to guess if the tale told was fact or fiction. M… came up with this story, chilling in the way it was so wretchedly confessed to us. Most of us thought it was fact, but didn’t really want to believe it.

 

(read fact or fiction? At the end of the background section)

 

BACKGROUND

  

“Algonquin Round Table writers, a group of town wits who had converged on New York in the late 1910s. From their positions as columnists, essayists, and drama critics, this "all-star literary vaudeville," as Edmund Wilson called them, nourished a light, sharp, mocking tone aimed at well-known personalities, among whom they counted themselves. Wartime friends Franklin P. Adams, Harold Ross, Heywood Broun, and Alexander Woollcott were among the bantering quipsters who began meeting for daily lunches at the Algonquin Hotel. With so many clever wordsmiths, this self-named "vicious circle" soon became famous for its ingenious puns, quips, and insults appearing immediately in print in someone's column.”

 

The Algonquin Round Table was a celebrated group of New York City writers, critics, actors and wits. Gathering initially as part of a practical joke, members of "The Vicious Circle", as they dubbed themselves, met for lunch each day at the Algonquin Hotel from 1919 until roughly 1929. At these luncheons they engaged in wisecracks, wordplay and witticisms that, through the newspaper columns of Round Table members, were disseminated across the country.

 

"Their form of social media was just that: social. Imagine having the time every day to break for a couple hours to have lunch with your funny, intelligent friends? They didn’t post witty replies on Facebook. They said them face-to-face, such as the time Dorothy Parker was asked to use the word “horticulture” in a sentence: “You can lead a horticulture but you can’t make her think.” Was her quick response.

  

Daily association with each other, both at the luncheons and outside of them, inspired members of the Circle to collaborate creatively. The entire group worked together successfully only once, however, to create a revue called No Sirree! which helped launch a Hollywood career for Round Tabler Robert Benchley.

  

In its ten years of association, the Round Table and a number of its members acquired national reputations both for their contributions to literature and for their sparkling wit. Although some of their contemporaries, and later in life even some of its members, disparaged the group, its reputation has endured long after its dissolution.

**************************************************************************************************************************************************************************

 

An elderly lady known to one of us was from the States, was visited with quite often before she passed on. She was a school chum of Tallulah and related this Roundtable tale told to her.

 

We would be quite interested to learn more of the story and possibly about the incident retold below. If anyone is aware of an occurrence similar to this one in or even outside of Pennsylvania please feel free to tell us about it.

 

Fact or Fiction?

 

As Related to Emily over afternoon Tea one spring day……..

 

“We were playing a game, telling each other stories, and then trying to guess if the story was fact or fiction. Darling Harpo had suggested playing it after the reaction he had received for mischievously calling out a distraught Bea on the facts for a bit of society gossip she had been relating….”

  

“ We gone midway round the circle, and When challenged, M… came up with this story, chilling in the way it was so wretchedly confessed to us. Most of us thought it was fact, but didn’t really want to believe it had occurred. “

  

“I give the story as best I can through memory, only ever hearing it the one time years ago now. I believe I have captured its’ essence, but I could never in words captured the tortured look, or trembling manner that was shown when it was told before the group. All I can say is, either way; it was a masterful performance….”

 

The Confession ( story):

 

M lit a cigarette, and after sending a few wisps of smoke up to dance upon the ceiling, began the tale…

 

“I have done may things in my life I have later regretted, but this one, in particular, I have never told a living soul until now….” Drawing a deep breath, the story was continued.

  

“I have always had a curious streak to observe people’s reactions when in various situations. To get a better grasp of how my characters should act. It greatly piqued me to watch, without being seen, a person’s true emotions coming into play. Ralph Waldo Emerson once famously quoted that “ People do not seem to realize that their opinion of the world is also a confession of character” ... and that intriguing thought was what originally sent me on my quest..

  

Sometimes I was the protagonist behind the scenes whom, unbeknownst to the victims, had set them up. Sometimes I just followed and watched their behavior. I never intended for anyone to get hurt, emotionally or physically. But sometimes they did! Then I would solace my conscience by telling it that I was only doing it to improve upon my craft. But, then this one time, I probably did go a little bit too far….”

^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^

 

Sends a few more puffs of his cigarette wafting in smoky curls upwards as if in thought on how to actually begin…

 

^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^

“As a young man I would attend all different sorts of functions from all different levels of society to come up with ideas. I ran the gauntlet, from cock fights, hobo’s gathering around a campfire, to a wedding reception worthy of the Rockefellers. I noticed that I felt more at home with the hobos, than the fat cats. A condition, I am sure, caused by some flaw in my character. “

  

“But this instance, the function I encountered definitely belonged to the latter, Rockefeller fat cat , set.

  

The event, I soon learned, was the Homecoming of a small private College in a wealthy Pennsylvania community. Not my Alma Mater, but just a place I happened to be passing through which I had stopped whilst traveling home. “

  

“That there was a function going on in that little place was not hard to miss; the attendees were pouring out onto the streets from all sorts of establishments, and into others, including the bar I was holed up in. After a while I noticed a change in dress of the revelers costumes. School blazers and sensible dresses began to be replaced by tuxes and swishing satin gowns and colourful frocks. Their adornments also changed, from school ties to bow ties, Boaters (straw hats) to top hats for the men: Gold jewelry was replaced by sparkling necklaces and rings upon gloved hands for the ladies.”

  

“Another change was, that by then, the lot of them was pretty much plastered, but then, so was I!”

  

“ Finally I was flushed out of my hiding spot , and went for a walk outside to escape the noisy crowd.

  

I started to circle the upper portion of a large rural park that ran next to my late hiding spot. As I strolled, I noticed a man with a heavy coat and cap, rather sinisterly watching the crowd, standing against a tree just up ahead of me. When he saw me coming towards him, he turned down a path leading into the shadowy depths of the woods. I watched him go down for a minute, and observed that it led down to a small valley, where in the middle, surrounded by trees, stood a quite deserted football field. The path less traveled tonight, I thought to myself.

  

I kept to the path well-travelled however, and soon after turning a corner, came upon a young couple snogging on a bench. I stopped to watch, my mind racing with a mixture of drink inspired contemplations upon the little scene before me! “

  

“She was dolled up like a picture actress. Wearing a slithery glossy red gown that shined in the gas lamps pooling light, with matching gloves and a shimmering gold purse, she was a breathing Pygmalion . The jewels she was adorned with, rhinestones, I assumed, glittered happily as she moved. He was in a tux, an Errol Flynn moustache and gold watch chain and fob at his waist. They had no idea anyone was near them! Of course, Then, my cursed foot gave me away all too soon, as it stepped upon a twig, snapping it loudly, calling the couples attention to my peeping. Seeing me they got up and walked past me, snooty noses up in the air. She made a rude noise that would have better fitted an old mare in a barn. Well pardon my eyes I though, stinging from the obvious smite upon my character, which I always had held in high regard. Why dress in that manner and think no one deserves to take notice unless they meet with your approval? The princess was obviously not amused…”

  

“ I watched with disdain, and then , still transfixed, followed at a discreet distance as they walked back the way I had come. For some reason I was mesmerized by the pair of snobs, watching as they moved, her red gown swishing and swirling like a red waterfall upon the paved stones. They were holding closely onto one another, once again totally oblivious to their surroundings. There was a story there, if only…. “

  

“They stopped, and I went into the shadow of a tree. Looking back up the path they had come, I thought they may have seen my shadow. For they then looking again to each other, she murmured something and they turned down the very path, the path less travelled, that the heavy coated man had slinked away down. I felt maybe I should have run up and cautioned them against taking that path, but I was still stung by their rude reaction… Besides, I was rather curious to see if anything would happen.

  

In for pence, in for a pound I remember repeating to myself, as I discreetly continued my stalk.”

  

“I went into the shadows, seeing a large set of rocks beside the path I climbed up, getting a view of the path winding down into the small valley. I was just above a gas lamp that lit the path as it reached the valley floor below. The lamps lite effectively shadowed the rock whence I was perched. I could see the pair walking in and out of the shadows of the trees. Just as they reached the circle of light below me they stopped and embraced. I watched, totally unabashed.

  

Then, as I grew bored, or maybe my drink induced fog was started to clear my mind back to reality, I slowly started to make an exit stage right , when a shadow detached itself from a tree directly below me. I stayed mute and froze in my tracks, watching the event I knew was going to occur, began to unfold. The man’s shadowy figure approached the oblivious couple carefully, I could see his head jerking about making sure that the couple was alone, and unprotected. Picking up a chunk of wood he entered the circle of light, which now formed a small stage where a tragedy worthy of Shakespeare was most likely about to unfold!”

  

“I watched as the startled lovers became aware and tried to stare down the newcomer.

  

Now in the light, I could see He had shed his coat and gained a mask, but it was definitely the same sinister man I had seen earlier, obviously up to no good. The Errol Flynn wannabe put the girl behind him in defense, the masked man merely raised branch and whacked him on the side of his head, it broke with a sickening crunch, and her gallant defender went down like a sack of cement.

  

The sinister figure then turned his attention to the now helpless damsel in distress. Raising a cupped hand up he said something in a raspy voice that startled her. Apparently he was asking for her jewels, and the horror struck damsel had arrogantly not yet realized she was being mugged. The ladies long earrings shimmering as she shook her head no in response. The rings on her gloved fingers flashed as her hand went to her throat as she clearly cried out,” not my necklace”, in a hapless act of defiance. In my mind came a picture of a small kitten trying to defy a snarling wolf. She threw the gold purse at him, but he merely caught it, and placed it in his pocket. I remember feeling strangely detached, It may have been shock, but I found myself watching without one ounce of regret. The only thought I could remember was her glittering necklace, maybe they had not been rhinestones, which meant that she actually was wealthy and probably had been looking down her snooty nose upon me, like she probably did her own servants !!.

  

Well than she obviously did not desire my help, I decided, like she had quite rudely not desired my looking at her earlier… and after all , in her world, servants should be standing quietly in the background, seen but not heard. So, I decided that I wasn’t going to help unless absolutely life or death. Let the little lamb be trimmed of her rich wool I said to myself. She did show spunk, I will admit, but that’s all it was, a show. She went limp as he reached up, grabbing her hand away, than began pulling of the rings as she stood mute with disbelief. The diamond bracelet was wrenched unceremoniously from her wrist. Dropping her hand, he pocketed her rings and bracelet. Than he once again went for her necklace, and she backed up, shaking her head, earrings again shimmering as the pair innocently bounced away from her long hair. Then I saw a flash of silver in his hand, and she fainted dead away at the sight of his ugly blade…”.

  

“The masked man knelt over to her fallen body. The shiny red gown had spilled around her on the ground, Laying about her inert svelte figure like a pool of red lava. Reaching down and in he claimed her necklace, grasping it up and away from her throat. He looked at it for a few seconds, letting it sparkle in the moon’s light like slivery falling rain.

  

Then squatting beside her, he pulled away her hair, and yanked her taunting earrings free. He methodically felt along her figure, missing nothing. Then he again produced the knife, slicing off the brooch from her gown’s sash.

  

He pulled off her red high heels and threw tem deep into the woods.

  

Then he left her and went over to the unconscious escort, the bloody limb next to him” in quick, precise fashion, ‘Errol’s’, watch chain and fob were pulled free and pocketed. Then he reached in and pulled out the unlucky devils pocket book. Then pulling off ‘Errol’s’ shoes they soon joined the ladies high heels.

  

Arising calmly, he slowly looked around as he stowed the stolen articles and his knife away. He spent a split second longer on the area I was hidden, causing a shiver to make itself felt! Then, removing the mask he walked to where his long coat lay, and reclaiming it, he continued serenely on his way down the path. I watched in heavy silence as he disappeared in the woods, only to reappear by the football field. It was then that I stole away back up the path, careful not to be seen.”

  

“And no, I did not give any cry of alarm, did not involve myself by seeking or giving the hapless couple aid. I simply turned and left. I came away with nothing, no ideas, no new feelings for a character, just a sour taste in my mouth and an upset stomach, which I soon tried to relieve by stopping in at the next drinking establishment I came across. Beer didn’t help, so I switched to Scotch…!”

  

“ About an hour later I heard a siren and sensed commotion outside the confides of my prison. I did not go out to investigate.”

  

“After a fit less night of unrestful sleep, I left the next morning, daring not to read a paper, or stop there for breakfast ( having a late tea later a few hours away , I put the place and its memories to my back. “

  

“Ashamedly I did not render any assistance those poor souls, and I admit what I what I did was criminal.. But then in my defense , they ………………….., ”

 

“Yes?”

  

“It was at this point that the confession was interrupted by the appearance of a messenger boy sent for M….. Who took his leave, with a wicked smile that seemed to convey relief that an outcome of the story would not have to be faced?

  

Obliviously loving the mystery it created by the timely appearance of the messenger.” He never could be persuaded to return to his story only smiling that wicked little smile.

  

So, the worse of it was we never knew… because of the messenger boy’s interruption, never to learn to our satisfaction if the story was true or not..”

  

“How we all did hate that!”

****************************************************

 

There is some question as to the identity of M…. There are six members with M in their initial. It could have been a non-regular or even a nickname. If anyone else has heard of this tale, or could place a finger for us as to who M… may have been, we would welcome the enlightenment.

 

Charter members of the Round Table included:

Franklin Pierce Adams, columnist

Robert Benchley, humorist and actor

Heywood Broun, columnist and sportswriter (married to Ruth Hale)

Marc Connelly, playwright

Ruth Hale, freelance writer who worked for women's rights

George S. Kaufman, playwright and director

Dorothy Parker

“The cure for boredom is curiosity. There is no cure for curiosity.”

“If you want to know what God thinks of money, just look at the people he gave it to.”

“What fresh hell is this?”

Robert E. Sherwood, author and playwright

John Peter Toohey, publicist

Alexander Woollcott, critic and journalist

"The English have an extraordinary ability for flying into a great calm."

 

Membership was not official or fixed for so many others who moved in and out of the Circle. Some of these included:

Tallulah Bankhead, actress

Edna Ferber, author and playwright

Margalo Gillmore, actress

Jane Grant, journalist and feminist (married to Ross)

Beatrice Kaufman, editor and playwright (married to George S. Kaufman)

Margaret Leech, writer and historian

Neysa McMein, magazine illustrator

Harpo Marx, comedian and film star

Alice Duer Miller, writer

Donald Ogden Stewart, playwright and screenwriter

Frank Sullivan, journalist and humorist

Deems Taylor, composer

Estelle Winwood, actress

Peggy Wood, actress

 

Courtesy of Chatwick University Archives

  

*******************************************************************************

 

Edwin Georgi

(1896 - 1964)

A leader in the second wave of "pretty-girl" artists: more like pin-ups without actually being pin-ups. Largely self-taught, learning his way up in ad and art agencies. A pilot in WWI. Style ranged from simple, posteresque lines and colors to his more famous pointillist pieces with boldly directed light, a unique use of warm shadows, and sparkling colors. Ads for Webster Cigars, Woodbury, Ford Mercury, Crane paper, Yardley, The Italian Line. In-demand illustrator for Goldenbook Magazine, Fortune, Redbook, Woman's Home Companion, Cosmo, True, Esquire, Ladies' Home Journal,Saturday Evening Post, American Girl, Liberty.

 

Edwin Georgi was born in 1896 and died in 1964 at the age of 68. He was a pilot in WWI– though I was unable to gather details about his specific tour of duty. Upon returning from the war, he attended Princeton. Eventually he abandoned his education to pursue writing as a full time profession. He was very ambitious, but a turn of fate pushed him another way. He was hired on to write copy for an ad agency , but was persuaded by his employer that he would make a better painter than a writer. Thus his career in illustration began.

 

Remarkably, he was largely self-taught. He worked his way up the artistic food chain with experience at various ad groups and agencies. His work is known in several national publications; Cosmo, Esquire, Redbook, Ladies’ Home Journal, and The Saturday Evening Post.

 

Edwin’s style is striking. Very few artists exude the dynamic movement of color as he does. His paintings have a texture that is entirely unique– his staccato strokes seem akin to pointillism, and weave a mesh of breathtaking pallets . Most noir art is obsessed with light and shadow, but Edwin Georgi’s art oscillates betwixt hue and contrast.

  

Thanks to Audrey for letting me use this shot in this context.

--------------------------------------------

Headline from the Belfast Telegraph Friday 25 July 2014

--------------------------------------------------

 

4,766 crimes against the elderly, but 96% of cases remain unsolved.

 

In the last year, police investigated almost 4,800 attacks on people aged 65 and over.

 

The crimes included violence, sex assaults, robberies and burglaries.

 

Yet in the vast majority of cases the crimes remained unsolved. Just 4% – one in every 25 – resulted in someone being charged.

 

It has prompted calls for tougher sentences for those who terrorise older people.

 

-------------------------------------------------------

 

The safety of older people and their ability to live free from crime and the fear of crime is important. Although older people are less likely to be direct victims of violent crime compared to younger people, any crime impacts on the quality of their life. Feeling vulnerable to assault and abuse often acts to isolate and exclude older people, disconnecting them from their local community. Older people are also more likely to have a fear of crime and often feel more vulnerable than young people because of their personal circumstances.

 

Please feel free to comment.

British postcard in the Picxturegoer Series, London, no. W 771. Photo: Paramount.

 

American actor Robert Stack (1919-2003) became a star as Deanne Durbin's young lover in Henry Koster's First love (1939). After the war, he had massive success with Douglas Sirk's drama Written on the Wind (1956) for which he was nominated for the Oscar. Internationally, he became famous as Elliot Ness in the TV series The Untouchables (1959-1963).

 

Robert Stack was born Charles Langford Modini Stack in Los Angeles, in 1919. His first name, selected by his mother, was changed to Robert by his father, a professional soldier Robert was the grandson of Marina Perrini, an opera singer at the Scala theatre in Milan. When little Robert was five, his father was transferred to the US embassy in France. Robert went to school in Paris and learnt French rather than his mother tongue. At 11, he returned to America, and at 13, he became a top athlete. His brother and he won the International Outboard Motor Championships, in Venice, Italy, and at age 16, he became a member of the All-American Skeet Team. He played polo, saxophone and clarinet at Southern California University. A broken wrist ended his career as a sports athlete. He took drama classes and made his stage debut at 20. He joined Universal Studios in 1939. In his first film, he starred as Deanne Durbin's young lover in First love (Henry Koster, 1939). He gave the teenage film star her first on-screen kiss. Around this "event," Universal producer Joe Pasternak provided a lot of publicity. Stack established himself as an actor and the following year he appeared as a young Nazi in The Mortal Storm (Frank Borzage, 1940) alongside Margaret Sullavan and James Stewart. Stack was reunited with Durbin in Pasternak's musical Nice Girl? (William A. Seiter, 1941). In 1942 he appeared as a Polish Air Force pilot in Ernst Lubitsch's comedy To Be or Not to Be (1942) starring Carole Lombard and Jack Benny. The plot concerns a troupe of actors in Nazi-occupied Warsaw who use their acting abilities to fool the occupying troops. The film has become recognised as a comedy classic. Stack played another pilot in Eagle Squadron (Arthur Lubin, 1942), a huge hit. Then Stack's career was interrupted by military service. He did duty as a gunnery instructor in the United States Navy during World War II.

 

After World War II, Robert Stack continued his career. He returned to the screen with roles in films such as Fighter Squadron (Raoul Walsh, 1948) with Edmond O'Brien and A Date with Judy (Richard Thorpe, 1948) with Elizabeth Taylor. In 1952 Stack starred in Bwana Devil (Arch Oboler, 1952), the first major film production in 3D. He played the second leading role alongside John Wayne in William A. Wellman's aviation drama It's Always Day (1954). Sam Fuller cast him in the lead of House of Bamboo (1955), shot in Japan. Stack enjoyed one of his greatest successes with Douglas Sirk's drama Written in the Wind (1956). He received an Oscar nomination for Best Supporting Actor for his portrayal of the alcoholic playboy Kyle Hadley. From the late 1950s Stack turned increasingly to television. Internationally, Robert became famous with his role in the television series The Untouchables in which he starred as the clean-cut Chicago police officer Eliot Ness during the Prohibition era. Around 120 episodes were made between 1959 and 1963. Other leading roles followed for Stack in the television series The Name of the Game (1968-1971), Most Wanted (1976) and Strike Force (1981). The multilingual Stack also took the lead role in the German-language film Die Hölle von Macao/The Hell of Macau (James Hill, 1966) alongside Elke Sommer, and he also appeared in French- or Italian-language productions. With advancing age, Stack also frequently took on deadpan comedy roles that lampooned his dramatic on-screen persona in films such as 1941 (Steven Spielberg, 1979), Airplane! (Jim Abrahams, David Zucker, Jerry Zucker, 1980) or Caddyshack II (Allan Arkush, 1988). Between 1987 and 2002 he was the host of the television series Unsolved Mysteries, which was dedicated to mysterious murder cases. He worked as an actor until his death. In 1956 he married actress Rosemarie Bowe (1932-2019), to whom he was married until the end of his life. The couple had two children. Robert Stack died of pneumonia in 2003 in Beverly Hills at the age of 84 and was buried in Westwood Village Memorial Park Cemetery.

 

Sources: Wikipedia (Dutch, German and English) and IMDb.

 

And, please check out our blog European Film Star Postcards.

With the construction of the Central Washington Railway in 1889, Govan was designated as a place in Lincoln County WA. The discovery of a large sandbank in the area in the autumn of 1890 created a boom town atmosphere as a crew of workmen complete with a steam shovel, extracted sand for the railroad construction. The name is derived from R.B. Govan, a construction engineer employed by the Central Washington Railway. Govan has been the scene of several unsolved murders. Reported December 1902 as "The most brutal crime ever committed in the county." was the axe murder of Judge J.A. Lewis and his wife, Penelope. The elderly Lewis kept sums of money about the house. It was believed robbery was the motive. Govan's eventual demise was hastened in 1933 when the community was bypassed by US Route 2. Only one retail store remained in business as of 1940.

 

Built in 1906, the old red schoolhouse somehow manages to resist the prairie winds, and leaves ghost town hunters with a strong connection to a much older and very different hardworking America. Closed in 1942, sunlight now passes through its wooden siding. Not much remains inside but 50 years of school day memories.

 

www.ghosttownsofwashington.com/govan.html

www.scenicusa.net/120810.html

 

Photo of the abandoned Govan School House captured via Minolta MD Zoom Rokkor-X 24-50mm F/4 lens and the bracketing method of photography. In the ghost town and unincorporated community of Govan. Columbia Plateau Region. Inland Northwest. Lincoln County, Washington. Early March 2018.

 

Exposure Time: 1/250 sec. * ISO Speed: ISO-160 * Aperture: F/8 * Bracketing: +1 / -1 * Color Temperature: 8700 K * Film Plug-In: Kodak Portra 160 NC

www.youtube.com/watch?v=bCLm5Pz4AhM

 

(PLEASE BE FORWARNED THE VIDEO LINK CONTAINS REAL PHOTOS OF THE CRIME SCENE, THANK YOU)

 

HOW TO PLAY THIS ROUND..

 

WELCOME TO OPTION 1/ NORMAL MODE..

 

(YOU MAY PICK YOUR A REAL UNSOLVED MURDERE MYSTERY OF YOUR CHOICE AS LONG AS YOU PROVIDE US WITH ALINK CONTAINING INFORMATION ABOUT THE CASE YOU CHOSE TO DO)

 

WE ARE REMEMBERING ELIZABETH SHORT WHOSE GREUSOME MURDER HAS NEVER BEEN SOLVED, THIS UNSOLVED MISTERY HAS BEEN OFFICIOLLY REOPENED FOR INVESTIGATION HERE AT THE MOXIE REVOLUTION..

 

DEPICT YOUR MODEL AS ELIZABETH SHORT THE BLACK DAHLIA, OR AS AN INVESTIGATOR WORKING THE CASE..PLEASE WATCH THE VIDEO LINK FOR A HAUNTING LOOK AT ELIZABETH SHORT BOTH IN LIFE, AND IN DEATH..

 

HERE IS THE WIKI LINK FOR MORE INFO ON ELIZABETH SHORT..LETS BRING BACK THE MEMORY OF ELIZABETH SHORT, NOONE SHOULD FORGET HER..SHE DESERVES TO HAVE JUSTICE, AND TO BE GIVEN A VOICE

 

en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Elizabeth_Short

 

Edwin Georgi Artist (1896 - 1964)

Circa ?

Read More about Edwin Georgi at the end of the story

 

Theme Borrowed from the mystery novel:

Tread softly into the Darkness.

Subtit“Folle est la brebis qui au loup se confesse!”le:

*************************************

 

He had just walked out of the Gentlemen’s smoking lounge, when he felt a hand placed upon his shoulder, and a whiff of perfume. From behind his back came a soft feminine voice with a slight Yank drawl.

 

Excuse me sir, can I ask you do me the kindness of a favor? He turned, looking down into the most enchanting pair of smiling blue eyes. He beamed into her worried face, watching with pleasure as she gave him a timid smile back. If I am able mi-lady he honestly answered, deciding in a split second that this damsel was indeed was in a bit of distress, as his sharp grey eyes wolfishly drank her image in.

 

Her long blond hair was held up in back held in back, secured by a pair of twin diamond clips that erupted out expensive glitters in a fierce storm of intense colours as she moved her head. Her ears were home to a set of dangling diamond earrings that sparkled expensively, beckoningly, as they attracted interest to her face. She was quite nice-looking, in a mousey sort of way, her appearance helped by the flattering longish hunters green gown she wore: a long soft velvet skirt with a tight glossy satin bodice. Her gloveless hands and wrists were bare of any jewel to take away notice from her face. She had a black satin cape draped over one arm, along with a pair of green velvet gloves held tightly in one hand, along with a rhinestone clasped clutch matching her gown. As a movie producer, the man had learned that first impressions mean everything, and that for one as busy as himself, he needed to garner as much info as he could from them. He could tell this one wanted to ask him something, and seemed nervous about the proposal.

 

This is rather awkward she said, her eyes becoming large like a frightened kitten, but my date sort of left with someone else, and I realized that I have to walk to my car alone. I tried to ask one of the staff, but he just laughed in my face. Her lips drooped at this last part. Then I saw you leaving, and was hoping…. Her voice trailed off meekly.

 

He was surprised, he had just thought she had recognized him and was going to ask for an autograph, so much for his ego he reasoned. And his heart was touched by the wretchedness of this poor creature too scared to venture out into the parking lot alone, albeit, it did have very poor lighting he reasoned as he spoke in answer to her plea. He studied her for a few seconds, the look of hope in her face reaching out to him. No, he thought in a fatherly manner, as his eyes watched her dangling diamond earrings, A timid creature like this should not be out walking alone. Any thief in the area would zero in on her and her expensive finery like a honey drone to the flower. This is what he thought, what he said was:

  

Well, I wasn’t leaving, rather actually just heading upstairs to meet up with my wife, but with a smile, added that he would be most honored to escort the young lady out. Taking her arm and he lead her towards the main lobby. American he asked? Montana she admitted sweetly, the nasally lisping twang of her western accent endearingly gripped the producer, who had a well-known fondness for American westerns.

  

At the door he helped her on with her wrap, she faced him, her eyes brimming with gratitude. She reached up and stroked the side of his face; you’re a dear for doing this! You really are! She hugged him tightly, her warm figure feeling quite nice against his, as he felt her beating heart. As she started to slowly put on her long soft gloves, He made the mistake of asking how she ended up here in England? Ten minutes later she was still going strong in her story, standing on the spot and showing no sign of moving. He finally had to gently take her by the arm guide her out the door to her destination, as the talkative enchantress kept on with her story, never missing a beat.

 

He led her happily across the roundabout and along the path to the lot. Her car, a red roadster, was parked at the very furthest end. They reached it, and he opened the door for her, she threw her satin cape in the back, and Just before getting in she reached out, and with a gleam in her eyes, gave him another all-encompassing embrace. Ohh thank you, kind sir she cried happily, and breaking away, entered the car and started the engine roaring to life. He closed the door and watched as she drove away, giving him a wave as she turned the corner going out onto the road that bordered the park that surrounded the civic center-hotel complex.

 

He turned and walked back towards the lobby. Whistling to himself as he thought about his good deed completed for the rather charming damsel in distress. Out of habit he started to check his W &D Rolex Timepiece. Damn he said, missing it as he felt his silk vest pockets, damn It ! , I must have lost it in the lounge. He headed back there immediately, losing all thought of the charming young lady from Montana he had just left.

 

20 minutes earlier

 

In the bar of the Ballroom located 2 floors below the Gentlemen’s smoking lounge where a certain well-known movie producer was just finishing his cigar and brandy before venturing out and running into a certain petite Blonde form Montana.

 

A man outfitted as a waiter, coming out of a side corridor, enters the massive Ballroom. For a second, as he leaves the darkened corridor, he is blinded by the bright lights and dazzling displays laid out ever so appealingly before him.

 

A lady clad in a flowing, glittering gown, her neck, ears , wrist, and fingers laden with brite rubies, swayed past him, eyeing him indignantly as she did so. “Folle est la brebis qui au loup se confesse”, he thought to himself as he watched her swish away.

 

Then he continued looking around, letting it all soak in for a few tantalizing seconds, before spying the rather regal looking lady, holding herself every bit as the film star she was. Wearing a long satin strapless number that looked as though it had been poured over her figure, it fitted her that tightly. She was drinking by a long oak bar that took up one whole end of the mammoth, brightly lit room.

  

He walked up to her; thankfully she was alone, although it really would not have made any difference, only less likely for her to become hysterical without an audience to watch. He laid a hand upon her bare shoulder; she looked contemptuously at him, with the red bloodshot eyes of one who had been to freely imbibing of the house liquor. Pardon my interruption miss ( she liked being called that, he could see) but I’m afraid your husband has met with a small mishap. She looked into his eyes with her deep grey ones, he sensed she was possibly not all that alarmed by his statement. If you will come with me, I will take you to the ambulance that has been called for him. With a small flourish she sat her glass down. She picked up a shimmering jeweled purse that matched her gown up from the finely polished oak bar. He watched as her multiple rings flashing brilliantly as they rippled in the light. One ring in particular captured his notice, a large egg shaped diamond that emitted a peculiarly yellow light as it flashed from her ring finger. In a swirl of satin, the lady turned and followed him willingly enough to the back corridor. Only upon reaching it did she start to question him as to what on earth had happened, hiding her concern incredibly well he thought, wondering if indeed she was hiding anything.

  

Stopping to collect her wrap, a long Russian mink, he led her downstairs and to a side exit. This is a short cut he explained, as he held the door opened for him. She passed him, her hells clicking, gown whisper along the stone pathway outside. Just through these woods and around the corner he directed her as she headed off, with him keeping pace closely behind.

  

20 minutes later

 

The red roadster jarred to a stop along the, deserted, dark wooded road: causing the dangling earrings of the female driver to sparkle dimly in the moons light. She killed the round head lights and waited patiently, all sign of the worry and helplessness she had displayed earlier replaced by a coolly calm demeanor.

 

She looked around, her green gown shimmering in the bright moons light. Vie ne est pas d'attendre que la tempête , mais d'apprendre à danser sous la pluie , she whispered to herself, her voice losing its western drawl completely.

 

Reaching up she undid the expensive clips, and pulled off the wind swept yellow wig. Undoing her long , naturally flaming blood red coloured hair, she let it down, spilling down ever so like hot molten lava over the backside of her green satin gown, and along her well defined breasts, tightly outlined by the hunter’s green satin bodice in front. She then popped out the blue tinted contacts, her naturally green eyes shining with wicked pleasures in the moon lit car. She tossed both the wig and the contacts into the woods. She sat back in her seat with a contented little sigh, and prepared to wait it out.

  

She reached down and opened a man’s alligator billfold and casually started leafing through it. Then she heard it, her head raised up as her ears perked…. an owl’s hoot came from off in the distance inside the black woods. She unceremoniously threw the wallet down and restarted the engine. From those woods emerged the shadowy form of a male, wearing the white shirt, white tux and black pants of a staff servant for the nearby posh complex. He opened the passenger door, threw a heavy shiny bundle into the rumble seat and jumping over the door, climbed into the seat next to her. He leaned over and happily, deeply kissed the lady driver, and settled back contentedly as she gave gas to the motor, sending the engine racing before driving leisurely off.

  

He turned to her, wolfishly eyeballing the pretty lady driving the roadster. How did you make out my love, he asked his sweet wife. The red headed siren in green satin began speaking in her native dialect, decidedly not an American one. Her deep Irish brogue rolled the words along her tongue as she related how her part of the scheme had carried out.

  

Well Husband of mine ; after stalling him as long as He let me, I relieved him of both his fancy watch, and a wallet with over three hundred pounds she remarked triumphantly. Adding happily as she looked into his grinning face, it looks like you did pretty well yourself lover! She glanced at the bundle in the seat behind her, lying on top of a blanket, which concealed a pair of suitcases.

  

The mink and gown was a bonus he admitted. But I relieved the lady of her purse and jewels as planned stated wryly. All of her jewels she asked, licking her lips as if savoring some recent memory of the lady in question; which she in reality was, have had the opportunity to scope her out in the ballroom before attending the movie star’s husband.

  

All of them, right down to the last diamond pinky ring. Any troubles she asked, knowing full well what the answer would be. None he smirked, snaking a hand around her silky waist. He broke into an impersonation of the American actor Bogart: Darling, the dame never knew what hit her! He reached in the back and started to hide the bundle away out of obvious site.

  

But why her gown, she enquired, why chance taking the time?. It was your size he stated. Not hardly she snorted at him, but thank you for the compliment my love. So, did you have a reason other than wanting to get kicks from seeing a half-naked movie star, she teased poking him in the side.

  

Actually, my love, there was a method to my madness, he retorted. I knew that with her vanity, she will wait to find a way to somehow clothe herself before going into public to scream bloody murder about losing her jewels. And, we have the beacon for our efforts he said, grinning wickedly.

  

Excited by his words, she started to speed up a little. He squeezed his arm around her slippery slick waist, no need to hurry love, he told her in a comfortingly reassuring manner. We have plenty of time to make the morning ferry to the city of Douglas.

  

Once there, would they have time to freshen up before meeting with the mysterious dark skinned man with the heavy accent who was the acting intermediary willing to pay them the balance of the 25,000 pounds upon receipt of the yellowish looking , vulgarly large, diamond ring that a certain actress had been displaying for a time that evening.

  

Postscript:

In the early years of the Nazi regime, the Wellesley’s, a well-known Jewish family , possessed a Large yellow tinted diamond known as the Harwicke Beacon. It was the center stone of a magnificent necklace. The jewel was said to bring fortune to whomever had it in their possession. Although it had not been living up to its reputation for the family, once wealthy, had fallen upon hard times. Then to compound their misfortunes, the had to leave the family manor and flee to Switzerland under pressure from the Nazi political machine. They were caught, and the necklace was taken just as the border to freedom was in sight. They had been betrayed by a mysterious dark skinned informant from another country.

 

the Harwicke Beacon was believed to have been one of the occult relics sought by the Nazis to test and see if the mysterious powers could be harnessed for the good of the war effort.

 

Its whereabouts currently unknown, the Harwicke Beacon’s reappearance in today’s world may prove a vital clue to the treasure trove of similar occult related items( both religious and non) that were hidden by the Himmler during the collapse of Nazi Germany…..

*************************************************************************************

“Folle est la brebis qui au loup se confesse!”

(Silly is the sheep who to the wolf confesses)

 

Répétrer dans les ténèbres.

Tread softly into the Darkness.

 

Vie ne est pas d'attendre que la tempête , mais d'apprendre à danser sous la pluie .

Life is not about waiting out the storm, but about learning to dance in the rain.

********************************************************************************

*************************************************************************************

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The purpose of these chronological photos and accompanying stories, articles is to educate, teach, instruct, and generally increase the awareness level of the general public as to the nature and intent of the underlying criminal elements that have historically plagued humankind.

 

No Part of this can reprinted, duplicated, or copied be without the express written permission and approval of Chatwick University.

These photos and stories are works of fiction. Any resemblance to people, living or deceased, is purely coincidental.

As with any work of fiction or fantasy the purpose is for entertainment and/or educational purposes only, and should never be attempted in real life.

We accept no responsibility for any events occurring outside this website..

 

**************************************************************************************************************************************************************************

Edwin Georgi

(1896 - 1964)

A leader in the second wave of "pretty-girl" artists: more like pin-ups without actually being pin-ups. Largely self-taught, learning his way up in ad and art agencies. A pilot in WWI. Style ranged from simple, posteresque lines and colors to his more famous pointillist pieces with boldly directed light, a unique use of warm shadows, and sparkling colors. Ads for Webster Cigars, Woodbury, Ford Mercury, Crane paper, Yardley, The Italian Line. In-demand illustrator for Goldenbook Magazine, Fortune, Redbook, Woman's Home Companion, Cosmo, True, Esquire, Ladies' Home Journal,Saturday Evening Post, American Girl, Liberty.

 

Edwin Georgi was born in 1896 and died in 1964 at the age of 68. He was a pilot in WWI– though I was unable to gather details about his specific tour of duty. Upon returning from the war, he attended Princeton. Eventually he abandoned his education to pursue writing as a full time profession. He was very ambitious, but a turn of fate pushed him another way. He was hired on to write copy for an ad agency , but was persuaded by his employer that he would make a better painter than a writer. Thus his career in illustration began.

 

Remarkably, he was largely self-taught. He worked his way up the artistic food chain with experience at various ad groups and agencies. His work is known in several national publications; Cosmo, Esquire, Redbook, Ladies’ Home Journal, and The Saturday Evening Post.

 

Edwin’s style is striking. Very few artists exude the dynamic movement of color as he does. His paintings have a texture that is entirely unique– his staccato strokes seem akin to pointillism, and weave a mesh of breathtaking pallets . Most noir art is obsessed with light and shadow, but Edwin Georgi’s art oscillates betwixt hue and contrast.

   

French postcard by E.D.U.G., no. 485. Photo: Atlantic-Press. Publicity still for The Untouchables (1959-1963).

 

American actor Robert Stack (1919-2003) became a star as Deanne Durbin's young lover in Henry Koster's First love (1939). After the war, he had massive success with Douglas Sirk's drama Written on the Wind (1956) for which he was nominated for the Oscar. Internationally, he became famous as Elliot Ness in the TV series The Untouchables (1959-1963).

 

Robert Stack was born Charles Langford Modini Stack in Los Angeles, in 1919. His first name, selected by his mother, was changed to Robert by his father, a professional soldier Robert was the grandson of Marina Perrini, an opera singer at the Scala theatre in Milan. When little Robert was five, his father was transferred to the US embassy in France. Robert went to school in Paris and learnt French rather than his mother tongue. At 11, he returned to America, and at 13, he became a top athlete. His brother and he won the International Outboard Motor Championships, in Venice, Italy, and at age 16, he became a member of the All-American Skeet Team. He played polo, saxophone and clarinet at Southern California University. A broken wrist ended his career as a sports athlete. He took drama classes and made his stage debut at 20. He joined Universal Studios in 1939. In his first film, he starred as Deanne Durbin's young lover in First love (Henry Koster, 1939). He gave the teenage film star her first on-screen kiss. Around this "event," Universal producer Joe Pasternak provided a lot of publicity. Stack established himself as an actor and the following year he appeared as a young Nazi in The Mortal Storm (Frank Borzage, 1940) alongside Margaret Sullavan and James Stewart. Stack was reunited with Durbin in Pasternak's musical Nice Girl? (William A. Seiter, 1941). In 1942 he appeared as a Polish Air Force pilot in Ernst Lubitsch's comedy To Be or Not to Be (1942) starring Carole Lombard and Jack Benny. The plot concerns a troupe of actors in Nazi-occupied Warsaw who use their acting abilities to fool the occupying troops. The film has become recognised as a comedy classic. Stack played another pilot in Eagle Squadron (Arthur Lubin, 1942), a huge hit. Then Stack's career was interrupted by military service. He did duty as a gunnery instructor in the United States Navy during World War II.

 

After World War II, Robert Stack continued his career. He returned to the screen with roles in films such as Fighter Squadron (Raoul Walsh, 1948) with Edmond O'Brien and A Date with Judy (Richard Thorpe, 1948) with Elizabeth Taylor. In 1952 Stack starred in Bwana Devil (Arch Oboler, 1952), the first major film production in 3D. He played the second leading role alongside John Wayne in William A. Wellman's aviation drama It's Always Day (1954). Sam Fuller cast him in the lead of House of Bamboo (1955), shot in Japan. Stack enjoyed one of his greatest successes with Douglas Sirk's drama Written in the Wind (1956). He received an Oscar nomination for Best Supporting Actor for his portrayal of the alcoholic playboy Kyle Hadley. From the late 1950s Stack turned increasingly to television. Internationally, Robert became famous with his role in the television series The Untouchables in which he starred as the clean-cut Chicago police officer Eliot Ness during the Prohibition era. Around 120 episodes were made between 1959 and 1963. Other leading roles followed for Stack in the television series The Name of the Game (1968-1971), Most Wanted (1976) and Strike Force (1981). The multilingual Stack also took the lead role in the German-language film Die Hölle von Macao/The Hell of Macau (James Hill, 1966) alongside Elke Sommer, and he also appeared in French- or Italian-language productions. With advancing age, Stack also frequently took on deadpan comedy roles that lampooned his dramatic on-screen persona in films such as 1941 (Steven Spielberg, 1979), Airplane! (Jim Abrahams, David Zucker, Jerry Zucker, 1980) or Caddyshack II (Allan Arkush, 1988). Between 1987 and 2002 he was the host of the television series Unsolved Mysteries, which was dedicated to mysterious murder cases. He worked as an actor until his death. In 1956 he married actress Rosemarie Bowe (1932-2019), to whom he was married until the end of his life. The couple had two children. Robert Stack died of pneumonia in 2003 in Beverly Hills at the age of 84 and was buried in Westwood Village Memorial Park Cemetery.

 

Sources: Wikipedia (Dutch, German and English) and IMDb.

 

And, please check out our blog European Film Star Postcards.

Edwin Georgi Artist (1896 - 1964)

Circa ?

Case Study 113 : Warning, these are the raw, bare unusual occurrences as originally chronicled. Some names, times, places and some facts have been, of course, altered.

Name: Angelica D circa 192__

Subject: an unscrupulous light-fingered body thief

Event: Posh Wedding Reception

Place: Upstate New York

Time: Warm early Autumn Saturday

 

Angie Being Receptive

Story line:

 

Angie had heard about the affair, a wedding, from a list of prospective functions provided by a discreetly paid contact. It was being given for the only daughter of a wealthy politician (as if there were any non-wealthy ones!) Angie had happily invited herself to the affair, carefully dressing up in her best for the special occasion!

 

**

Wedding receptions were by far Angie’s favorite hunting grounds. During the season there could be anywhere from upwards of 20 high end affaires every weekend in the bigger cities, and always 2 or 3 in even the smallest of towns.

Wedding s were usually easy pickings: free food, drink and entertainment, and seldom worn jewelry made for a ready-made mix for Angie to ply her trade. For Angelica D. was a uniquely skilled pickpocket, specializing in the removal for profit of the expensive jewelry worn by the (usually be -gowned) women and young ladies’ who hauntingly dwelt in societies upper crust!

So Weddings, by their nature, were the desirable choice for Angie. One only had to avoid the Bride, her Bridesmaids, and their court, which were usually the major focus of any security present. However, there were plenty of opportunities to be had by employing her special bag of tricks on the outlaying fringe.

Angie had arrived early at the mammoth facility, to scout out the establishment and to scope out who was wearing what. Used to these affairs either being feast or famine, she could quickly tell that in this one there was cooking up a devouring banquet.

**

After Angie had entered the mammoth reception room it did not take her long to spy her first plump prospect, nicely loaded with possibilities. It was a lady, bearing a haughty look, who had been making a b-line through the crowd as way was parted for her. She was wearing a luxuriously long rusty coloured sable fur coat that hid most of her long crimson -red satin gown. What Jewels were visible, ears, fingers and wrist, were all flashing with pricy fire. In tow she held the hand of a young girl, obviously her daughter, wearing actual makeup, which, along with her fetching gown and brite jewelry, made her appear far older than she was. A handsome man , looking like the actor William Powell in a tux, followed behind the pair, husband and father, Angie presumed. She shadowed the little family as they swished their way to a corner table, conveniently located by a rear exit, for a better look over. Her fingers had started with an all too familiar tingle as she took it all in.

**

The husband helped his wife out of the sable, laying it carefully along a bench against the wall. Angie was not disappointed. A silver necklace of large matched diamonds gracefully encircled her throat. A dazzling blood ruby and diamond brooch held up the center of her gown, positioned just below the bust line. Brooches, like this one, were worth a lot once fenced, but its placement required a little more dexterity and skill than she was willing to risk. In actuality, Angie had only attempted twice before to take a brooch pinned to a gown in this fashion. She had only been successful one of those times, only to find out it was a pretty piece of paste.( Years later, as Angie’s talents became more polished, relieving ladies of their dangling brooches, like this blood ruby, became her specialty.. the Eds.) Angie’s eyes moved on. The rest of the snooty lady’s jewels matched her necklace. Long earrings, free clipped, dangling brightly from her earlobe s. A pair of wide ruby bracelets clasped tightly home around elegant red elbow length satin gloves, sparkled devastatingly, matching her brooch. Her long fingers were home to a pair of ruby and diamond rings and a third ring set with a gold band and a vulgarly large solitaire diamond.

**

Angie’s attention turned to the daughter, whom had been helped by her Father , squirming, from the chocolate coloured satin cape that she had been wearing. The youngster, all of about 10, was wearing a cream coloured long puffy sleeved dress with a brown satin sash encircling her waist that matched her Cape. The young lady possessed impossible large bright eyes. The only thing that held more shine than those doe like eyes had been the antique rhinestone diamond necklace that fell dripping ever so invitingly down the front of the precious little imp’s rich glossy gown. The rest of her matching rhinestones (obviously belonging to the child’s mother) consisted of an engaging display of a bracelet, pair of dangling, screwed on clasp earrings, and matching rings encircling a chubby finger one on each hand. It all gleamed brightly, invitingly from her svelte girlish figure. A large round pin held her sash up in place; it sparkled with what looked like a ring consisting of one caret diamonds, as unlikely as it was they could be real.

**

The two females of the family presented a pretty package indeed. Not one to pass up an invite that alluring, Angie walked by , with the pretext of heading to a back exit behind the table the little family had staked, just so she could get a closer peek.

**

Angie’s practiced eye took in a wealth of information during the few seconds it took her to walk up and pass the group, so involved with themselves they never even looked her way. Her attention focused upon the young mother first scoping head to toe.

**

Angie scrutinized the brooch; it was definitely worth the effort. In her mind’s eye, Angie envisioned the mother as a stumbling drunk “bumping into” Angie. Fingers whisking along the slippery lustrously softness of the gown, as the lady was steadied. Angie would accept the women apologies and the pair would part their ways, Angie from the young mother, and the magnificent brooch from the rich satiny red gown. But then the mother raised her head, looking up past Angie, towards a commotion being made behind her. Typical Angie thought, she doesn’t recognize me, so I don’t exist, like some sort of servant. But it was as she caught the young mother in full profile that she realized this lady looked strikingly similar to another woman who had been wearing an expensive dress of teal charmeuse that Angie had had been having a long conversation with, while relieving the woman’s finger of a costly diamond sapphire ring. It had happened only just last weekend at a formal function, and Angie figured she may have not recognized her in passing, but may if Angie were to use one of her approaches again with the intent of taking some of her jewelry, he memory may be jarred, and she may remember her missing ring. This was why Angie only allowed herself to ply her trade for no more than a month in any given place per year. This was from a lesson she had learned early on in her career. And so, for that reason alone, Angie decided to, at least temporarily, abandon any designs she had on the young mother’s brooch, allowing her devious intentions to evaporate from her mind like smoke on the wind. There were plenty more fish in the sea she told herself.

**

Angie still allowed herself a quick appraisal of the squirming 10 year old. She admired the glossy dress of slippery satin that her mother had conveniently dressed her daughter up in, as it fell spilling down to her black open toed shoes. Angie’s fingers started to tingle; this was a perfect tickling gown. Angie liked to think of any long dress or gown that swept down to a females heels as a” tickling gown”. All it took was a strategically placed foot timed with a well place nudge to send the chosen victim tumbling. During the ensuing diversion, Angie would use her long subtle fingers to swiftly probe along the gowned figure, tickling she like to call it due to the tingling sensation of the usually rich material of the victim’s attire. In this fashion, a pre-targeted piece of valuable jewelry could then be easily acquired, no matter what its placement had been on the unfortunate female. If only the chatty youngster had something on better than rhinestones. It was a crying shame to have a child that young dolled up like an adult, but not wearing adult jewels.

**

Angie continued to walk past, unseen, and went out the door. She found herself in a large serenity garden of roses and shrubs, surrounded by a 10 foot high well-trimmed hedge. The sort of garden one usually found in those days around upscale Churches. The only exit was a gate leading onto the parking lot on the side of the church. Here was positioned a solitary, lonely guard in a neat little guard hut. In the opposite, far corner was a statue of Cupid, arrow drawn, standing above a display of blooming moss roses at the end opposite to the gate. There was always potential in places like these.

**

Angie had started to walk over to the Cupid statue when she heard the exit door open. Turning, she saw the young girl, whose mother’s brooch Angie had been scoping out, looking out the door. She snuck through, running out alone, silky tickling gown swishing out behind her. Her heart leapt to her throat as she watched the girls rhinestones sparkle radiantly. She actually turned to head towards the path the unsuspecting child was running up, flexing her fingers as she contemplating a little warm up practice. Angie watched as the dolled up imps necklace flashed with pinpricks of coloure as it bounced to and fro as she ran happily up the path .Angie turned her back to the girl, waiting to hear the telltale click of her heels come up just behind her. She would then move, bumping into the girl as she passed, tripping her to the ground. After which Angie would help her up, removing the girl’s fancy necklace in the process. Come to Mama Angie whispered under her breath, waiting to make her move as the skipping heels grew ever louder.

**

But then Angie froze, hearing the clicking of the exit door again opening behind her. She checked her stride letting the daughter slither past without a glance. She headed again towards the statue, watching her prize move on ahead. Then she heard the father in the background calling out to his little princess. The youngster turned, and ran back, beaming at Angie as she passed. Angie smiled back, her eyes again traveling to the girls neckline, and the sparkling jewelry the outlined her throat. It had been a silly thought she chided herself, as the girl passed from view. If only the necklace had been real, and the father about ten minutes later in discovering his daughter absence. It would have been an unbelievably easy pluck and she could be out the gate before anyone was the wiser. And the best part was that they would probably believe the scampering girl had just lost it in the garden. And, while the parents were looking about, Angie would have been free to renter to ply her trade again. As it was, it was silly of Angie, risking her opportunity on a child’s bauble worth a mere pittance compared to some of the other offerings so readily being flaunted this evening by her adult counterparts.

**

Angie continued her casual stroll through the Garden, happily playing over in her mind some of the jewels that she would like to see adorning the female guests inside, and the scenarios she may be using to acquire them

**

Finding herself approaching the guard hut, she allowed herself a glance back. Jealously she watched the father, who had caught and was carrying his slippery attired daughter, heading back inside. How Angie wished she had been the one carrying the squirming little imp, it would have been like a smorgasbord, with jewels instead of food. Pity her mother had not put the good stuff on the daughter, she sighed to herself. Tonight she would have to work for her butter. She walked past the bored guard, nodding at him, receiving a rather lecherous look in return. A smile was forming across her cunning face, for now it was time to get down to the real business at hand.

**

The affair turned out to be quite a showcase for the very rich. Who were indiscreetly flaunting their riches, trying to outdo one another, probably for the benefit of the politicians’ attention? Certainly not for the attention of the designer satin gowned and flashy diamonded daughter, whom most of the guests hardly knew, or had ever met.

**

Angie always felt like a little kid in a candy shoppe at these lavish affairs.

She spent the first part of the reception mingling and thoroughly enjoying the show her the reception’s guests were u wittingly putting on. Angie, wearing no jewels herself, was something of an anomaly compared to her fellow guests.

**

There were over a thousand luxuriously coloured, squawking female birds and their young chicks pompously displaying valuable finery, oblivious of the cat amongst them waiting to pounce. Angie patently mingled, watching as the adult guests had their fill of food and drink.

Once their guard began to relax, Angie raised hers’, her probingly skillful fingers now more than prepared to begin and ply her trade. For the more they imbibed, the less guarded they were, both about themselves and their female offspring. Angie would start with the adults, 2 or 3 of the right pieces of jewelry, once acquired, and would mean she could call it a night and have enough to support her for a solid month. If she came up empty in that department, her back up would then center on the female off-spring, daughters and nieces.

Most of said offspring would be by then scattered about, aware that their parents were no longer paying them any heed, exploring and playing, sporting their fancy satin gowns, silken dresses, and their dainty jewelry, ripe for the picking. Giving pickpockets like Angie endless opportunity to ply their trade on them, once they had finished working through the adults. Or if the thieves were beginners, plenty of easy practice while “learning the ropes!”

**

Now, when Angie herself was just starting out as a young pickpocket, she stumbled across a treatise written by a man using the pseudonym “Gaston Monescu”. Written around 1826, entitled the Cutpurse: skilles, artes and Secretes of the Dip, it covered the various tactics and moves used by master pickpockets.

 

Angie had studied it religiously, especially a ploy called the “Necklace Flimp.” This tactic was primarily used for body thieves working alone. Angie had been surprised to learn that a pickpocket could raise his/her skill level above just acquiring wallets. Having the ability to lift a woman’s necklace amazed her, not to mention the profit that could be realized. With practice, Angie had found that not only was it a good technique for acquiring necklaces, but it worked for other pieces of worn jewelry as well.

 

It was relatively simple process, but took a long time to master.

First part was to employ psychology and watch the potential victim for the unique movements and quirks in their personality and actions that could provide an opportunity for her skills. Then observe the selected piece the victim wore, for value, type of clasp, make, and accessibility. The second part was to employ a bump, slip, or grasp, and in one motion, flick open the studied clasp and send the piece away from the body by either pulling and palming, or dropping it to the floor or ground for retrieval later. If she was noticed, it was “sorry, miss, very clumsy of me” “here let me get if for you, no harm done?” Then walk away and let the waters settle before trying yet again (sometimes even on the same person!)

 

Angie had practiced the jewelry flimp until she had the technique totally mastered. Starting out first on specially dressed up mannequins in her apartment, than trying it on small pieces of cheap baubles worn by real women in crowded streets and stores. Then on younger, less guarded, better jewelry wearing young girls attending proms and social dances. Young looking for her age at the time, Angie had fit right in amongst them. Then, finally, she graduated to lifting the better jewels of the older, wealthy women attending society’s finer parties and receptions. And it was this path that led her here today, and would also lead several unlucky females to report missing jewelry to their respective insurance companies.

**

See Album “Angie having a Ball” for additional background on our master thief with the light fingers.

**

Angie now eagerly employed those useful talents learned from monsieur Monescu’s little pamphlet at the wedding reception. She mingled freely, carrying around a drink that never touched her lips. She watched and learned, her trained eyes missing very little. Soon, like that hypothetical kid in a candy shoppe, Angie’s head was spinning from so much to choose from that she really could not make any easy choice. So, she waited and watched patiently, knowing opportunity would knock.

 

**

 

Then, like it usually happened with Angie, the first genuine opportunity unexpectedly presented herself. Angie literally was run into a rather awkward, spindly lady in thick glasses clad in a fetchingly expensive costume consisting of a thick silver satin blouse with hanging ruffles down its front, combined with a long rustling tiered skirt that swept down to the top of her open toed silver high heels. Her diamond jewelry shone with exuberant flames as they caught the light from the many chandeliers that hung from the vaulted ceiling. The lady expressed frantically her apologies, placing a hand with well ringed fingers on Angie’s shoulder, where they sparkled merrily. No worries Angie said smiling, her eyes taking it all in without appearing to move. She let the frazzled lady leave, allowing her a head start, it was only sporting to do so.

**

Angie shadowed her quarry for a while, seemingly rewarded for her efforts when the lady managed to spill a bit of her drink down on her skirt. In a show of flashing silvery satin and diamonds ,she retreated and disappeared into a nearby powder room, with Angie following eagerly, opportunity knocking.

**

As Angie grabbed onto the closing powder room door, a mid- twenty something girl in a deep green velvet gown came out. Her only jewelry was a wide diamond bracelet wrapped around a wrist of the matching long green gloves she wore. Angie caught it out of the corner of her eye, realizing that it was as expensive as it was bright. But it was her friend, a willowy short haired pretty young thing in a glamorous Chocolate Satin gown that made Angie’s jaw drop. Her jewels, like her friends, were also sparse, but enormously pricy. The long white satin gloves that graced her hands and arms also held matching bracelets, thin, but each one worth the effort. But her real eye catcher was the row of authentic, one caret white diamonds that were rippling exquisite fire along her throat. Angie held the door for them, nodding to as they passed. Noses in the air, they did not appear to notice Angie. Then, with the ladies backs to her, Angie abandoned Miss silver satin and turned to follow. Angie got in behind the two with the intention of getting a closure examination of the clasp of the fiery diamond necklace Miss Chocolate satin was wearing.

**

However, Angie never got her closer look. For at that moment the tossing of the bride’s boutique was announced and Angie was overwhelmed by a mad dash of single ladies heading for the bride. On a lark she allowed herself to be swept along, losing sight of Miss Chocolate satin, but found herself right smack behind Miss Green velvet and her cheerfully sparkling diamond bracelet, a beautifully expensive piece that would have cost someone a king’s ransom. Angie’s fingers began their all too familiar tingling, eager for a chance to acquire jewelry that valuable, but not for any king, just for herself!

**

Though the night was still relatively early, and Angie still had visions of those exquisite rippling diamonds of the pretty Miss in chocolate satin on her mind, she simply could not pass up this opportunity. Angie wedged herself close behind her chosen victim as the multitude of hopeful young women pressed forward to try their luck. As the Bride teased her guests before getting ready to toss her bouquet of white and red roses, Angie expertly scrutinized the bracelet as it dangled from the green velvet glove. When the bride finally turned her back and raised her arms every one of the richly clad single women’s eyes was focused on the bride’s bouquet, Angie’s eyes were fixated on the bracelet. With the music playing loud, the crowd giggling and laughing, and all eyes focused on the gorgeously outfitted young long haired bride, Angie again felt opportunity knocking. Her pulse beating in rhythm with the music, she made ready to seize the chance when it presented itself. The roses flew through the air and all the women raised their hands high, looking all for the world like being involved in a stick-up. Angie timed it perfectly, snapping the clasp, and snatching the bracelet easily away from the gloved wrist of its owner as she raised her arms high to grab at the boutique. In her excitement, shared by everyone, Miss Green velvet ( who did not catch the bouget of roses) never felt a thing. Angie had smirked as she left the giggling group, stowing securely the purloined diamonds, as she imagined what it would have been like to watch that group robbed in a mass stick-up. The money that some enterprising soul could have made from that haul would have been astronomical.

**

She went to the open bar, lighting her first cigarette; she ordered her first real drink of the night. She could feel the coolness of the weighty bracelet in its hiding spot, and Angie, pleased with herself, calmly sipped her drink as she relished in the moment. The toss of the Brides Boutique was, in Angie’s experienced opinion, one of the three common events occurring during a wedding reception that were fertilely prime times for pickpocketing. (Editor’s note.. Miss D. mysteriously never divulged what she considered the other two prime events to be….)

**

She looked about without a worry in the world, coolly watching the antics of some of the younger women on the dance floor. She spied the young miss in the green velvet gown over in a corner talking in an animated fashion with several other women. Green velvet gown’s now bare velvet glove, apparently not noticed by anyone but Angie. One of her group was displaying some bright emeralds peeking through the long silver fur she was wearing, obviously she was leaving, and she was talking excitedly about something to the group formed around her! Nowhere in sight was Miss chocolate satin, too bad, Angie would have loved another peek before leaving.

Angie watched around the room causally, as the cold bracelet pressed expensively against her figure from its hiding spot. She eventually lost track of green velvet and her friends while finishing her drink. Setting down the empty glass, she decided it was time to call it a night. The bracelet now in her possession was easily worth as much as the 2 or 3 separate pieces she usually acquired at functions like these, added together! And, she needed her rest, Angie had a couple of plans the next day, one revolving around the female guests who would be attending an upscale afternoon prom fashion show a, the other, an evening opera performance (invited guests only, and her contact had managed to supply a ticket, at a hefty price!) No rest for the wicked, Angie told herself.

**

On her way out of the main lobby, she found herself leaving behind the very lady in green velvet whose bracelet was now in Angie’s possession. She was with the same gaggle of her similarly dressed friends, including the one exhibiting the emeralds. However, miss chocolate satin was still not visible. They were laughing and joking as they collected their assorted pretty wraps, obviously heading for a nightclub. If she had not already relieved one of them of a bauble, Angie might have invited herself along, if only to have a go at some emeralds. Angie hesitated about leaving withy them, then shrugged, followed the group out the door past the pair of bored rent a cops.

**

She remembered thinking, as she followed the elegant young princesses ,their fluid gowns peeking from under their various furs and wraps, how shallow the very rich could be. She wondered if Miss Green velvets friends had even noticed that she had had diamonds around the wrist of her glove, let alone that they were now missing. She wondered how long it would be before the bracelets loss was discovered. She figured it would be several hours, long enough for its owner not to be sure what place they had been lost. As young Miss Green velvet fancy gown and her friends turned right outside the exit, Angie turned left, heading towards the guard hut at the entrance to the garden.

She decided not to follow them but rather circle around the outside of the garden to give her victim time to leave.

**

That simple decision to make a left turn proved to be a major turning point in Angie’s fortunes that evening.

**

As Angie passed the hut guarding the entrance to the serenity garden, she noticed it was deserted.

It was as she was looking it over, that she heard the sounds of clicking heels moving fast, followed by the sounds of a young girl giggling. On the alert she stole to the backside of the hut, soon spying a splash of something blue and silky between the gaps of a couple of large bushes. Her senses on their highest peak, she began to move cautiously in, hoping the female making the noise would be in need of aid and comfort perhaps.

**

She soon spotted a young lady of about 14 bending over, hands on her knees as she panted heavily. Her back was to Angie, and what pretty back it was. She was nicely attired in a long gown of shiny material dyed deep blue like an afternoon, cloudless summer sky. The gown cascaded down along her petite figure, spilling out on the ground around her feet. Her hair was pulled back, easily displaying a pair of small diamond and sapphire earrings, not rhinestones for this one, but the real McCoy. Around one finger was a gold ring with sapphires, and from her left wrist dangled a thin silver bracelet with a row of diamond chips, both pretty, both valuably real. But it was her last piece of visible jewelry that stole the show. It hung, swinging to and from her neck on a thick braided chain of solid silver. On its end, like a hypnotists prism, was a silver pendent in the shape of a flower, with 1 inch long, pear shaped real diamonds as petals and a fully 2 inch in circumference center stone of deep sea blue. Angie watched it, her eyes following it for a full minute, its expensive fire sealing its own fate as Angie began flexing her fingers. Angie took her eyes off of it and looked around to see why the princess had been running. But all was still as the girl continued to peek through the branches towards the back door leading into the hall. Angie silently approached, and walking up to the pretty miss she bent down and in a friendly tone, asked who she was running from.

**

I played a joke on my sister, and now I’m hiding from her, piped the girl breathlessly, as Angie placed a hand upon the girls shoulder in a conspiratorial fashion, said shoulder made silky soft by the gowns half sleeve.

**

I know a better place where you can hide from her, Angie whispered in the girl’s ear, the dangling earring ever so close to her lips. The girl looked up, smiling, and Angie pointed towards the guard hut, and as the girl looked, Angie’s fingers glided up along the silky shoulder and lifted the thick silver chain up from the back of the gowns’ scooped collar. Come Angie said, and as the girl rose Angie’s fingers nimbly flicked open the chains’ lobster clasp, holding onto the clasp as the other end of the chain slipped down, allowing the pendent to slide free and fall onto the grass at the girls feet, where it lay shimmering. Angie moved her hand to the girls shoulder, squeezing it, while slipping off the braided silver chain with her other hand, whisking it back and away from the guileless young girl. Angie led her princess away from the spot and walked with her to the guard’s hut, still empty, where she had her hide neath the counter.

**

Angie turned and went back to claim the pendent, there still was no sign of any sister. She secured the pendent, joining it with the chain and bracelet, and headed deeper into garden. Her plan was to watch the hut and see which way the girl went after getting bored waiting. But as she skirted the perimeter her plans were changed when, upon rounding a corner of the path at the far end, she saw yet another back belonging to a solitary lady in her late thirties, clad in a long slinky yellow coloured gown of expensively shiny taffeta, bending over to smell the yellow roses on a bush. Instinctively Angie knew two things about her. One was that whatever jewels this lady would be wearing, they would be expensive, and the other was that with an expensive gown like that; the lady would undoubtedly be wearing her jewels. Angie suddenly became aware that her fingers were tingling, as an all too familiar whelming feeling again delightfully washed over her.

**

Angie found herself automatically turning back onto the garden path. She headed around the women and went down to the cupid’s statue, where now out of sight, she carefully hid the purloined bracelet, and still warm fiery pendent and its ‘fancy silvery braided chain..

**

She then headed towards the unsuspecting flower admirer. The ladies’ long brunette hair had fallen, flowing down the backside of her shiny taffeta gown. Angie could see rings and a bracelet gleaming as she was holding up the rose to her face. A long double rope of pearls hung swaying deliciously from her throat. Coming up behind her Angie stood watching; calculating until the lady rose and with a start realized she was not alone.

**

Pretty Angie said, her eyes on the pearls now draping down the front of her marks yellow gown. They are lovely, are they not? The damsel responded thinking Angie was referring to the roses. Just like the ones in the park, my husband and I walked through on our way to catch a cab today. Actually, I meant your dress Angie said complimentary. Thank you the lady practically squealed, I love the way it flows, and she swirled it about to show Angie, who got an eyeful of sparkly jewelry for her efforts. As she continued engaging the women in conversation, Angie decided upon attempting for the woman’s necklace of pearl. Seeing opportunity knocking when Yellow Taffeta pulled her long hair forward so it hang down the front of her gorgeous gown, laying silkily over one shoulder, nicely exposing the pricy necklaces clasp. Angie looked around, they were alone, out of site of the opposite end of the garden where the inside door was, and the guards hut with it’s pretty occupant.

**

Angie, using the marks interest in roses to her advantage, managed to steer the capricious damsel in shiny yellow over to the cupid’s statue. There, she placed a hand upon a silky taffeta covered shoulder, and pointed down to the shrub of moss roses growing at the foot of the statue . When she stooped down to get a closer look, Angie’s fingers whisked from her marks shoulder to the clasp, in a single effort with two fingers, lifted it by the clasp, and snapped it open. At that moment the mark cried “spider” and jumped up, backing into Angie, who watched helplessly as the pearls fell down from the damsel’s throat and slipped along the front of the yellow taffeta gown. They fell with a soft plop unto the ground at their mistress’s feet. Angie tried to lead her away, hoping to come back and reclaim the necklace. But as Angie pointed to another rose bush some distance away, the lady took a step forward, instead of back, planting her feet right onto the pearl necklace. Hey she exclaiming, what’s that, looking down to her high heeled foot? Oh, my pearls the lady squealed again, a glittering hand shooting to feel around her throat. Angie reached down, and reluctantly retrieved them from the base of the rose bush for the squealing lady in yellow . My husband would not have been pleased if I had lost these, she said as Angie held them, feeling their pricey smoothness.

**

She asked if Angie could help her put them on, my maid usually does this sort of thing, you know. Angie reluctantly complied, re- hanging the pearls as the pretty damsel held up her hair, and reluctantly redid the clasp. The Damsel thanked Angie by embracing her in a full hug, her diamond and pearl earring hitting Angie’s cheek. But Angie’s arms were being held by the hugging woman, so Angie was able to only watch the tantalizingly close earring sway free. Angie left yellow-gowned damsel in the garden, getting nothing for her efforts other than the feel of an expensive gown of the likes she could probably never afford to own.

**

With the pretty damsel hovering around the cupid statue, Angie decided to go back into the reception hall until the coast was clear. She carefully looked towards the Guards hut, and seeing that the guard had returned, figured the girl, so fetchingly clad in blue, had been rousted out, so that loose end was probably tied up. She just had to keep a careful eye out. The quite valuable bracelet and pricy necklace with its pendent were well hidden; there was absolutely no danger of someone stumbling over it.

**

Truth was, Angie had found her appetite wetted and once again visions of a lady in chocolate brown satin exhibiting a row of flashy diamonds, teased her thoughts. An accomplished pickpocket like herself had a couple of well-practiced ploys she could utilize to obtain a tight fitting necklace from its mistress. In addition, Angie was now determined to find her and to risk a try. She had really nothing to lose.

**

It took almost an hour of hunting amongst the now well liquored, gaily mingling crowd before Angie could admit to herself that there was absolutely no sign of the willowy lady in the stunning chocolate satin gown. Damn she thought to herself, those diamonds were something special. She shrugged it off, reciting in her mind a wicked little mantra of hers, “Another one who got away, a chance to lose her jewels to Angie on another day!” She strolled about pondering on what her next course of action could be. There had been no sign of the pretty girl in blue whose necklace Angie now had hidden away, and Miss Green Velvet was definitely out of the picture, so she felt that it was still safe to try to pluck one last bird or chick. In her hunt for the brown, Angie had seen several inviting prospects; one lady(purple satin, diamonds), two girls( ivory silk, pearled pin; red satin, gold necklace set with chips of precious stones), and now was weighing the risks.

 

It was at that point she once again espied the thickly bespectacled awkwardly introverted young lady invitingly wearing the thick silver satin ruffled blouse, which she had been tailing much earlier. And as Angie watched here, she again accepted the invitation. Her prey had appeared on the dance floor, being led around by a rather charming young man. That would make a dandy consolation prize Angie drooled to herself happily as she took in the sparkling show put on by the dancers jewels.

**

Angie looked her over, reacquainting herself with the jewels she so nicely was displaying. A pair of long earrings cascaded down from her earlobes where they precariously held on by antique silver claps. Angie relished the opportunity to “flimp” pairs of earrings like these. Heavily jeweled, each one was worth a tidy sum. Angie mulled this as she continued to study the jewels of her appealingly dressed new target.

**

The girl’s only ring was a solitaire diamond of at least 3 carets on a thick solid gold band worn vulnerably loose on her un-gloved, bare ring finger. A wide silver cuff bracelet with what appeared to be at least seven rows of matching, shimmering diamonds was dangling around her left wrist (she was right handed Angie observed) . The bracelet had a habit of lying over her sleeve, and Angie could see that it was a costly tiffany piece, whose clasp was exceptionally easy to flick open. A diamond pendent hung swinging from her satiny ruffles, held by an extravagantly thick silver chain with a simple , small eye in hook clasp. The Diamonds in the pendent were as shimmery as stars plucked from the night’s sky.

Angie remembered reading that in a poem from a book she had picked up years earlier in a library, while stalking a young mother in a satin dress, wearing an authentic Gruen Watch on one wrist, and a bracelet of diamonds on the other, that had gone into the library in pursuit of her young son running inside. Like that young mother, It was obvious that this lady in silver satin was not accustomed to wearing jewels, and that set probably spent most of their days lying in a safe. Angie licked her lips as she imagined what the other contents of that safe might look like

**

Angie moved in to allow herself a much closer appraisal of her potential victim’s jewels.

The young lady was totally oblivious to anything but the rather surprisingly strikingly handsome man who to all appearances was her Fiancée, who was holding her ever so close. But Angie was able to see enough of what she wanted to. The young Ladies’ thick satin blouse shone richly in the lights, moving like glistening wet liquid silver, while from her waist spilled the long black skirt with satiny tiers that swished and swayed nicely along her figure as she uneasily danced. Her jewels were bursting with colour as they played hide and seek with Angie’s watchful eyes. From all appearances, they were a mismatched couple. He seemed to know everyone and moved with a confident air, she was just the opposite. It made an enticingly intriguing package indeed for someone with Angie’s skills.

**

Silver Satin was the perfect “Gaston Monescu” type of mark, a perfect combination of classic mannerisms, clothing and Jewels worth anyone’s efforts to take. This was the only fly in the ointment that Angie observed. For by the bar she could see that two other sets of eyes were watching the same young lady in shiny satin and blazing diamonds. Angie intuitively knew they were drooling over acquiring jewels she was wearing.

**

She had noticed the pair of young men in loose fitting suits when they had entered a little earlier about the same time as Angie’s reappearance. They were obviously casing the jewels of any woman, young, or old, who walked past them. Angie knew their type, simple thieves, with no real skills outside of holding a knife in a dark alley to the throat of their victim while they unceremoniously searched and stripped them of their treasures. Angie saw that they were whispering amongst themselves and instinctively knew they were watching and waiting for the fetchingly clumsy silver clad lady clad loaded with diamonds, to leave the “establishment”.

**

She is mine Angie whispered, possessively snarling the words under her breath. She looked around as she thought about how best to handle the situation. Her eyes opened wide as she saw a familiar woman waiting by the coat checkroom. Perfect she purred, placing an unlit a cigarette in her mouth and heading over the bar.

**

She sauntered up next to them and ordered a drink, catching their eyes she asked for a light. As they obliged she took a pull and puffed out smoke, asking in a casual tone, “how about my jewels? Boys!” They could see perfectly well that she was not wearing any, and one snarled, “What’s your game, sister?” Angie snarled back in her best cop like manner, “We know what you boys are up to, and we suggest you both call it a night!” “Yer no cop sister”, they challenged, calling her bluff,” what’s your angle!” Angie calmly looked towards the entrance, perfect she mused as she saw their eyes follow hers, “Maybe not” she stated, “but see that lady being helped into the black mink?” “The shiny yellow dame?” one of em asked? “ “yes”, Angie replied taking a puff on her cigarette before going on, “ well that man’s she’s with used to be mine .” “ Now, I aint one to hold a grudge, but, those pearls she’s waltzing around with are worth plenty. And her rings, they are an easy two grand alone.”

**

Angie could tell she had captured their interest, and that they were now paying rapt attention to the lady in the thick yellow taffeta gown whose necklace Angie had almost acquired in the serenity garden. One of them looked at Angie, a suspicious look crossing his mug, “What’s innit for you sister?!” He demanded. Angie looked at him, dripping with sarcastic innocence. “Nothing brother, other than to make sure the jewels of the dame who stole my husband get home safely .” “I just worry,’ Angie went on, “there is a park in front of their residence and that dame in yellow likes to stroll through it to smell the roses after their cab drops them off.” They watched the couple leave, her expensive yellow gown sweeping provocatively at her gold high- heeled shoed feet. Angie looked them in the eyes and said smoothly, “ Gentlemen such as yourselves may want to do a good deed and follow them home to make sure some miscreant doesn’t spot her in those valuable jewels and mink. Not to mention her man’s gold watch and three hundred sawbucks in his wallet!” Angie winked at the pair, “If you catch my drift.” She added.

**

Still not totally convinced about what Angie was selling them, but equally unsure over who Angie was, both men got up and quickly headed towards the main exit as the last slip of an expensive yellow taffeta gown disappeared through the door. Smugly, Angie puffed on her cigarette as she watched them leave.

**

It was then that a hand was placed on Angie’s shoulder from behind.

**

She froze for a split second, before becoming aware of the soft mummer of satin, and of a slender finger was home to a sparkling sapphire ring. Angie smiled and turned around, facing the girl. Pardon me ma’am, she says politely, but do you remember me? Of course dear, Angie gushes while beaming at the forlorn looking miss in the fetching blue gown; I met you in the garden. Yes she confirms, but I lost my necklace somewhere and I was wondering if you remember if I had it on when we met? Angie’s heart leapt, bless this babe in the woods, thinking her necklace had merely been lost, never suspecting that someone like, say, Angie could have been the cause. She absolutely adored the trusting nature of rich girls this age. For that aspect of their purity had allowed Angie, far too easily sometimes, to lift many a jewel from well attired unsuspecting young princesses like this one. Who was now standing before her, miserable, her desirable diamond and sapphire earrings dangling ever so beckoningly, her sad puppy eyes pleading ever so sweetly, and her missing necklace closer than she could ever imagine.

**

No dear, I did not see you with a necklace, Angie lied coolly, as she reached out and stroked the girl tenderly alongside her face, her fingers touching one of the earrings. Angie was looking her fully in the eye, you didn’t lose anything else, and did you dear she asked with a concerned tone. The girl checked her earrings, bracelet and ring (Angie smiled to herself, silently thinking thanks for the info kid!) But when she spoke, it was with hopeful words laced with honey, If you want, I can help you look, my dear. The girl’s eyes lit up for a second, thank you ma’am, I wanted to, but papa said to wait until tomorrow when the light is better.

Angie smiled winningly, don’t worry dear, I’m sure its somewhere in the garden. Someone will find it, she promised, thinking to herself maliciously, and keep it for their own profit!

**

Thank you Ma’am she chirped, at the encouraging words that had been spoken, luckily she could not hear the ones Angie was thinking to herself, and turning moved off, her scrumptious gown swishing pleasantly around her silver heels. Angie watched, as the girl disappeared in the crowd Angie marked her direction.

**

Angie Imagined if the girl had accepted her offer, and she had left with the vulnerable, unguarded princess to search in the garden, and in the process help relieve her of her remaining jewels. There would be enough light with the gas lamps that lined the paths in the garden. Enough light, so that as Angie helped the princess look, her fingers could slip ever so delicately slip in and search along her shiny sky blue gown.

**

Angie licked her lips slowly as she fantasied about the search. The girl bending down to look under a bush, Angie placing her knee sharply in a certain spot below the girl’s armpit, temporarily numbing her upper body. Allowing Angie enough time to pull off both her earrings without feeling it,( this also worked well on working off broaches placed in upper parts of gowns and dresses, not to mention necklaces!) The bracelet would be no problem; it would be the easiest and probably the first, snatched off while the rich girl’s attention was easily diverted away. Since she was not wearing silky gloves, her ring would be the trickiest, but manageable, by either having her walk too close to a water fountain and hopefully having her get her fingers wet, or by simple holding onto her hand and tripping her by stepping on her gowns hem. And just like that, Angie would become that much richer, the rich girl that much poorer. And it all would be done without giving the girl any additional stress, like say she had run into the two muggers Angie had chased off. They may not have been content with just the jewels of a girl dressed as she was that they had found wandering alone in the gardens at night.

**

As Angie excitedly thought about these things, she had trained her focus back upon her original meal ticket, whom for the second time that evening had almost been allowed to slip through Angie’s light fingers. Watching with half lidded eyes, the still dancing couple not unlike a wolf watches lambs, waiting for one to make an ill-fated move away from the flock. The lamb’s fate was sealed, when a vivacious blonde in a long wispy silken dress cut in on the dancing couple. Asking miss silver satin’s fiancé for a dance. He obliged, leaving his shimmering fiancée unaccompanied, nakedly exposed to the wolf that was Angie.

**

More than one way to skin a cat Angie thought, tingling from the thrill of the hunt her prey, now in a reachable situation. She happily headed towards the spot where Miss silver satin had moved off to. A small table, located conveniently by a powder room. One the way she grabbed a half full glass of red wine off a table. Angie circled around young miss silver satin, taking a position up about two table lengths behind her. She casually scoured the area; most of the nearby tables were deserted.

Knowing the band would stop playing soon for the evening; most of the couples were out on the dance floor. All in all, the situation presented the perfect opportunity for some one of Angie’s persuasion.

**

Angie watched as the young lady picked up a glittery silver clutch and opening it, started to search inside. Angie moved swiftly, catching up behind her , tripping intentionally into her, splashing some wine onto the front of the silver satin blouse as the unfortunate lady dropped her purse in surprise. Oh my gosh, I did not see you, miss silver satin pleaded apologetically to Angie, more concerned over Angie’s feelings than her soiled satin blouse. Angie accepted her apology and, producing a lacey silk handkerchief, began to wipe themselves both down.

Angie’s practiced eyes swiftly took it all in. Miss silver satin’s pretty earrings swaying out vulnerably from her long straggly hair as it fell into her face. The clasp of her necklace was also exposed and within easy grasp. A s she reached out for the floor to steady herself, Angie’s eyes took in the sparkling ring on her now wetted finger and then watched the wide bracelet with its’ easily open able clasp slip up glitteringly over her sleeve.

The girl, now thoroughly flustered, started to rise, tripping over her slippery long skirt( with no help from Angie) Angie caught her, taking advantage of the split second opening she had been waiting for and Angie took it, making her selection as she steadied the poor thing with one hand, as the other caressed along a slick silver satin back. Angie’s long supple fingers darted in and deftly did their trick, this time with no spiders interfering. She quickly removed her chosen glittery prize from the distracted lady, who never noticed so much as a prick as Angie removed the expensive piece from her person in the confusion.

**

Angie secreted he shiny jewel as she helped miss silver satin collect herself. Than they rose, and Angie happily accepted miss silver satin profuse and obviously well used, apology. Then, as she fumbled nervously with her thick glasses, Angie laid a calming hand upon her shoulder, her fingers relishing in the richness of her victims sleek ruffled blouse. Miss silver satin was by now so distracted and embarrassed that Angie was all but assured of a clean get away.

However, as an extra measure of caution Angie intentionally jarred silver satin’s elbow of the hand steadying her eye glasses. Thus sending her glasses falling from her face to the floor with a small clatter, then Angie kicked them under a table before the startled lady could react. Angie offered to help, but the lady implored that she was okay, just needed to find her glasses. Angie left as Miss silver satin started to frantically grope around for her glasses, her silver blouse and remaining jewels shimmering brightly along their miserable mistress..

Angie took her leave, knowing that once she found her glasses, Miss silver satin would flee for sanctuary into the ladies powder room, buying her more than enough time for Angie to make her escape. Taking one last look over the dance floor, she blithely saw that miss silver satins fiancé was still in the clutches of the vivacious blonde-haired girl, still safely out of the picture. Angie made her way with purpose to the rear exit leading to the garden that she had used earlier, intending to head out into the serenity garden to collect the hidden bracelet and pendent, adding them to her purloined plunder.

**

As she walked amongst the mostly deserted tables, her mind went to the woman in yellow taffeta and imagined that right about now she would be standing with raised arms and a forlorn look. Ruefully wincing as the man who was holding her mink busily stripped those luscious pearls from the neckline of her tight gown, as the shiny yellow material gleamed in the moonlight! Serves her right for being afraid of spiders, Angie thought unforgivingly.

***

Angie’s mind also went to the poor young princess in blue with the missing necklace. She looked towards the area she had headed, opposite of the back exit to the garden. She reluctantly decided not to push her luck, there was a sister and parents to contend with, and she really had no time left. So she decided to call it a day, a rather successful day, and made her way to retrieve her loot.

**

Angie had now reached the now deserted table by the back exit where the lady in the crimson gown and blood red rubies had been earlier, along with her rhinestone encumbered 10 year old daughter and handsome husband.

**

She paused between the table and the bench, something was not quite right, She eyed the area around the dance floor for any signs of trouble that may be centered on the quite valuable jewels now in her possession. All was quiet, except for a little murmur behind her. Turning she looked at the bench and was shocked to discover the soundly asleep ten year old, using the long rusty sable fur as a blanket. What have we here, Angie thought, licking her lips wickedly?

**

Angie pursed her lips, checking the coast; spotting the young girl’s parents, still on the dance floor, a safe distance away the other side of the room. No sign of miss silver satin. No one else was nearby. Perfect. She went over, bending down so the table hid her. The child looked so vulnerably innocent, sound asleep as she lay on her side, facing Angie. She was clutching an arm of the sable like a warm fuzzy teddy bear, her ring sparkling. Angie gently tugged the mink from the girl’s clasp, and gradually pulled until the fur swished away from along the inert silken figure on the bench, where it fell into a pile on the floor. The child looked very innocent, very vulnerable, like a sleeping princess. An earring lay exposed over one shoulder, her necklace dangled down slightly askew from her slender throat, the pin holding her sash, all of which shone brightly now that it was exposed to the low lights of the ballroom, still called out. Too bad, Angie thought to herself, too bad the mother had not dressed her little doll in real diamonds.

**

 

Angie again looked to the dance floor; she could see the mother’s jewelry twinkling brightly as the child’s parents danced close, very unaware of anything else but themselves. She looked back over the girl, contemplating. But the song was winding down, Angie stooped to pick up the sable, bird in hand she thought, and placing the rich fur over her arm, stood just as the song ended. Looking at the exit door, so near and yet so far, she started to hasten to it, but checked herself as the band immediately started another, rather slow song that Angie knew quite well.

**

She hesitated, incredibly, everyone was staying on the floor for the final dance, she looked back at the bench, and the sleeping imps exposed jewels still shined, tempting her to come for them. Angie knew that she would only have about four minutes. Always open to new challenges, Angie chose to answer that sweet little invite that the necklace was extending out to her. Checking once again to make sure the parents was still obliviously dancing; she laid the mink down by the door and eased back to the bench. Kneeling down, Angie began to perform the delicate operation.

**

Lifting up the necklace she gently tugged it loose from around the sleeping child’s neck until the clasp appeared. She subtly flicked open the clasp, then shamelessly slipped the necklace from around its perch on the little whelp’s throat. It flickered like some slithering shiny snake, glittering as it came away. Like taking candy from a baby, Angie drooled happily, as she let the necklace run along her fingertips while watching the sleeping princess for a few seconds.

**

Her fitted cream coloured dress shimmered with expensive richness in the shadowy light. The poor thing was so soundly asleep after her long exhausting day that Angie figured she could have peeled the dress off her without causing a stir. This for a pickpocket would be the ultimate test, the pinnacle of her criminal class. But, Angie thought; if she ever had the opportunity to do so, it would have to be worth her while, like a shiny gown, an appealing sky blue gown with half sleeves and scooped collar. And the jewels would be sapphire drop earrings, bracelet and ring, not plain rhinestones. She licked her lips at the enticing thought of such a perfect “coup fera”, than told herself to get back to work, time was money.

**

She slipped her hand along the satin cape being used as a pillow and felt under the girls head until she felt the cold earring she was laying upon. Deftly undoing the screw she pulled it free, watching with delight as it came out from underneath.

**

Angie than, gently lifted, and nimbly stroked back the girl’s ultra-soft hair, exposing her long silvery earring. She pulled the jewel out and laid it out upon the child’s shoulder, where it lay, shimmering vibrantly. Then she reached in with her fingers and began unscrewed its clasp. Pulling it free she added it to her growing collection. She next lifted the hand that had held the warm sable, gently prying open her clenched fingers. The sleeping child never stirred. Angie gently slipped off the glittering ring. She then peeled back a silky sleeve, checking for the bracelet, finding her wrist was bare. The rest of the jewels were hiding securely on the side she was laying upon. Smiling wickedly to herself, an idea popped into Angie’s head.

**

The music was now almost to the halfway point, and Angie thought for a brief second that she should leave . Another quick scan assured her the coast was still clear, and Angie decided to press her luck, eagerly going back to work, putting her idea into motion.

Angie fingers felt along the sleeping child’s waist until she located the brooch. Quickly unfastening the brooch from the chocolate satin sash, she pulled it out. Watching as the diamonds caught fire and burst into vibrant life, unusually vivid for plain rhinestones she thought contemplatively. Angie plopping it in with the growing pile of the sleeping girls purloined baubles. Again reaching in along the warm waist, Angie gradually tugged at the now undone sash. The sleeping girl, unconsciously obliged by turning over on her other side, as the sash was pulled away.

**

Her arm with the ring and bracelet was now exposed. Lifting the arm , and peeling back the puffy sleeve, Angie found and unclasped the bracelet, slipping it away, then allowing it to dangle in triumph before letting it join its purloined mates. Then lifting the child’s hand she pulled at the ring, it was a little tight. Angie licked her fingers, and moistened the girls finger, than began slipping the ring off ever so gently from the along her finger. Almost there, Angie thought, as the ring joined its abducted companions in her pocket.

 

**

As Angie finished pocketing the last of the girls jewels, her victim whimpers something discernible in her sleep, her small hand feeling to pull up the missing warm sable she had been using as a blanket. Angie quickly looked around, spying a cheap linen coat hanging on a nearby hook, she grasped it and laid it over the stirring girl, stroking her for a precious few seconds. Then rising, calmly Angie snatched a shiny purse from the table, and moved off, unbelieving of her luck. She reclaimed the sable fur, and strolled out the door without looking back.

**

As Angie closed the door she heard the last notes of the song waning from inside. She licked her lip, that was close, but her luck had held. Now all that remained was to visit the Cupid Statue In the garden to reclaim her other prizes. As she reached the statue, Angie realized that she still had the child’s satin sash in her hand.

She smiled as she tied it, blindfolding the cupid statues eyes. Retrieving and pocketing the now stone cold diamond bracelet, and the young Princess in blue’s necklace with its shimmering pendent, she slowly looked around, the cost was clear. Angie coolly made her way to the gate, the bored guard offering to help her with the mink she was carrying. , Angie stopped, and handed it to him. Then turning, allowed him to help her on with it. He puffed out his chest as Angie gave him a sweet smile; she thanked him, then turned and disappeared into the darkness of the night.

**

Angie disappeared from view into the foggy evening, relishing the warmth of the sensuous sable. Happily contemplating the small fortune in jewels it had been in contact with earlier that evening, and also the small fortune she had walked out of the reception with in her possession.

**

The guard watched the spot for some time where the pretty lady in the expensive fur had vanished in the mists. He fantasized for a good few minutes, wondered what had been behind the enchantingly secret smile she had given to him.

Excuse me, sir?, a female voice coming from the garden startles him, he had never heard anyone coming.

He turns, catching an eyeful of a long glamourous, brown satin gown, worn fetchingly by a willowy short haired pretty young thing. Diamonds blazed from around her throat, caught by the gas lights, and from around her white satin gloved wrists as she raised her hands in a pleading fashion.

She continues, pointing to a young girl in a smashing blue satin gown, bending over looking for something in the bushes. My sister lost her necklace and pendent while playing around here earlier, did you or anyone find it? She asked in a rather seductive tone of voice9 not a common, it was her regular voice)

No lady, no one turned in a necklace. Thank you sir, and she turns away, her gown flowing out behind her.

He watches for a minute as she and her sister both move elegantly down the path, continuing their search.

He sighed, and turns away, babysitting rich dames he mutters under his breath, what a dismal way to make a living. Why won’t this affair ever end he asked himself, as he reached for his silver pocket watch to check the time. Damnations he said, not finding it nor its chain and fob, must have dropped it in the alley earlier where I had gone for a nipper from his flask. He sauntered off quickly to the alley located in the direction Angie had disappeared, abandoning his post.

Soon after, a pair of dark figures who had been walking on the opposite side of the street, and had stopped to loiter when they spied the guard talking to some posh broad in a shiny brown dress, saw the guard leaving his post. They quickly stole with sinister intent across the road and entered into the gardens, disappearing into the darkness.

*********************************************************************************

This ended up being Angie’s first big score, She got more for the rhinestone set then she had imagined, the small brooch taken off the brown satin sash had proved to have real diamonds in its center! Also the princess in silky sky blue’s pendent and chain had fetched a nice tidy sum. The jewels lifted from the ladies in Green and Silver also realized quite a handsome profit, as did the sable and purse.

if one includes the real diamond ring slipped off the finger of a silky dressed debutante from the prom show and her rather nice haul of a slim pearl necklace and diamond pin from the Opera, the whole weekend was unimaginably successful.

**

From the profit realized, she had been able to spend a pleasant month away in Monte Carlo, even indulging in the purchase of a rich red wine coloured taffeta gown to wear.

Which she pleasantly found that, when paired with her deftly acquired collection of dripping rhinestone diamond jewelry, she attracted wealthy young males with expensive gold watches and fat wallets like honey bee drones to a bright moss rose.

**

She also enticed a long raven haired, Miss, richly clad in emerald silk, to enter into her snare.

But Angie did not make an entirely clean get away. For the last jewel to be taken was the girl’s brooch , and before Angie could hide it with the rest, the girl spotted its’ glitter in Angie’s hand, and with a gasp had looked down on her dress at the now vacant spot where it had been dangling ever so provocatively for Angie all evening.. Angie smiled at the girl as she had looked up in confusion. The girl had placed a hand to her throat, startled when feeling it bare of her necklace. She looked at Angie in hurt confusion, her eyes wide with fright. Angie placed a finger to the girl’s lips, hushing any fuss she may have been thinking of making over her missing jewelry, and turning her back to the forlorn miss, Angie left, not looking back….

**

But that was a story for another day, so we were promised by Angie, giving us an all too familiar look of devious satisfaction at making us wait.

.************************************************************************************

Editor’s Notes:

Our Thanks to Mr. J. Gardner for pointing out the existence of Mr. Monescu’s 1826 guide

If you enjoyed our little story, please like and leave a comment.

And if you wish, describe what intrigued you the most about it…

Thank You

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No Part of this can reprinted, duplicated, or copied be without the express written permission and approval of Chatwick University.

These photos and stories are works of fiction. Any resemblance to people, living or deceased, is purely coincidental.

As with any work of fiction or fantasy the purpose is for entertainment only, and should never be attemp

French postcard by E.D.U.G., no. 478. Photo: Robert Stack in The Untouchables (1959-1963).

 

American actor Robert Stack (1919-2003) became a star as Deanne Durbin's young lover in Henry Koster's First love (1939). After the war, he had massive success with Douglas Sirk's drama Written on the Wind (1956) for which he was nominated for the Oscar. Internationally, he became famous as Elliot Ness in the TV series The Untouchables (1959-1963).

 

Robert Stack was born Charles Langford Modini Stack in Los Angeles, in 1919. His first name, selected by his mother, was changed to Robert by his father, a professional soldier Robert was the grandson of Marina Perrini, an opera singer at the Scala theatre in Milan. When little Robert was five, his father was transferred to the US embassy in France. Robert went to school in Paris and learnt French rather than his mother tongue. At 11, he returned to America, and at 13, he became a top athlete. His brother and he won the International Outboard Motor Championships, in Venice, Italy, and at age 16, he became a member of the All-American Skeet Team. He played polo, saxophone and clarinet at Southern California University. A broken wrist ended his career as a sports athlete. He took drama classes and made his stage debut at 20. He joined Universal Studios in 1939. In his first film, he starred as Deanne Durbin's young lover in First love (Henry Koster, 1939). He gave the teenage film star her first on-screen kiss. Around this "event," Universal producer Joe Pasternak provided a lot of publicity. Stack established himself as an actor and the following year he appeared as a young Nazi in The Mortal Storm (Frank Borzage, 1940) alongside Margaret Sullavan and James Stewart. Stack was reunited with Durbin in Pasternak's musical Nice Girl? (William A. Seiter, 1941). In 1942 he appeared as a Polish Air Force pilot in Ernst Lubitsch's comedy To Be or Not to Be (1942) starring Carole Lombard and Jack Benny. The plot concerns a troupe of actors in Nazi-occupied Warsaw who use their acting abilities to fool the occupying troops. The film has become recognised as a comedy classic. Stack played another pilot in Eagle Squadron (Arthur Lubin, 1942), a huge hit. Then Stack's career was interrupted by military service. He did duty as a gunnery instructor in the United States Navy during World War II.

 

After World War II, Robert Stack continued his career. He returned to the screen with roles in films such as Fighter Squadron (Raoul Walsh, 1948) with Edmond O'Brien and A Date with Judy (Richard Thorpe, 1948) with Elizabeth Taylor. In 1952 Stack starred in Bwana Devil (Arch Oboler, 1952), the first major film production in 3D. He played the second leading role alongside John Wayne in William A. Wellman's aviation drama It's Always Day (1954). Sam Fuller cast him in the lead of House of Bamboo (1955), shot in Japan. Stack enjoyed one of his greatest successes with Douglas Sirk's drama Written in the Wind (1956). He received an Oscar nomination for Best Supporting Actor for his portrayal of the alcoholic playboy Kyle Hadley. From the late 1950s Stack turned increasingly to television. Internationally, Robert became famous with his role in the television series The Untouchables in which he starred as the clean-cut Chicago police officer Eliot Ness during the Prohibition era. Around 120 episodes were made between 1959 and 1963. Other leading roles followed for Stack in the television series The Name of the Game (1968-1971), Most Wanted (1976) and Strike Force (1981). The multilingual Stack also took the lead role in the German-language film Die Hölle von Macao/The Hell of Macau (James Hill, 1966) alongside Elke Sommer, and he also appeared in French- or Italian-language productions. With advancing age, Stack also frequently took on deadpan comedy roles that lampooned his dramatic on-screen persona in films such as 1941 (Steven Spielberg, 1979), Airplane! (Jim Abrahams, David Zucker, Jerry Zucker, 1980) or Caddyshack II (Allan Arkush, 1988). Between 1987 and 2002 he was the host of the television series Unsolved Mysteries, which was dedicated to mysterious murder cases. He worked as an actor until his death. In 1956 he married actress Rosemarie Bowe (1932-2019), to whom he was married until the end of his life. The couple had two children. Robert Stack died of pneumonia in 2003 in Beverly Hills at the age of 84 and was buried in Westwood Village Memorial Park Cemetery.

 

Sources: Wikipedia (Dutch, German and English) and IMDb.

 

And, please check out our blog European Film Star Postcards.

This Find charmed me with the Simplicity and Magik it unkovers to my inner Eye...

I walked through my Distrikt, thinking about Nothing and She, my Inside was deeply moved - like always lately -, my Outside was kalm and open... then I found this strange Result of a Happening I kouldn´t explain to myself... More strange was that I wasn´t interested in the Explikation at all... I just saw it, was inspired to a hundred and one Feelings - Feelings about Nature, Urbanity, our modern Life and the Way we treat our unique World...

The Pedestrians walked by and wondered what this Man is doing down there at the Ground with this enigmatik Objekt - they passed by, I saw the kurious Vistas and was happy to be pArt of this little spontaneous everyday Wonder...

Alive with the Impressions I walked on with a Smile on my Face.

 

One Day I kouldn´t forget about it, yet I still don´t know "what this tries to tell me" - but I´m a Friend of unsolved Riddles, so I enjoy this Stimulant and let my Kreativity all the needed Freedom to digest this interesting Eyeblink of Life and just walk on...

 

Guess it will be interesting to dive into the deeper Meaning of this Koincidence and find out what the "frozen Watershield" symbolizes... ?

 

*

 

"All the Superlatives destroy our Sense for Naturalism" V

 

_________________________________

©1999-2007 all Rights reserved, Krystian

The Lady Margaret, Lady Margaret Road, Southall, Middx.

20 years ago today (18th Oct) a nail bomb exploded outside the pub, no one was hurt but the reason for the explosion is still unsolved.

Built in 1937 and named after Margaret, Countess of Jersey, who resided at near by Osterley House.

Closed in the early 2000s & is now a medical centre & Pharmacy....maybe run by P. Armacy.

In the mid 1980s i lived in Southall, and this was one of about 10 pubs within 15 mins walk or stagger, all, unsurprisingly, are now demolished or in other use.

Seen in Berkeley, California.

 

Why would anyone use a cable tie to attach a nail to a utility pole?

 

A critical part for some future plan?

 

Or just a random act?

 

A mystery that shall likely remain unsolved.

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The study below was derived from facts uncovered while doing research for the following Doctorial dissertation:

Light to the shadows of their mind:

Criminal tatics and strategies

Criminology Department Dept.

Chatwick University

  

Storyline:

The idiot had fallen for the ruse, hook line and sinker. Believing Sara had been kidnapped by a loan shark, he had willingly come to rescue his damsel in distress, bringing the $40,000 he believed she owed her life for. Seeing Sara handcuffed and bound to a chair had been too much for him, and he tried to attack Shane in a vain attempt to rescue her. Shane had unwisely hit him with his pistol, forcing Sara to wait until he regained consciousness to implement the second phase of her plan. Shane had unbound Sara until that time arrived, and she busied herself with counting her money with a lovingly caressing hand, hoping the lovesick twit had not been dumb enough to pawn the family jewels to raise it.

As she was contemplating these facts, she stole an uncaring eye on her would be love- sick suitor, whom she thought of, indifferently, as a clueless naive Romeo. Then she looked up at the blank faced Shane, who still held the rod lamely in his grasp. She hissed at Shane to tie the young man up securely. He did so, roughly tying him up, and then hand cuffing him to the chair he moved next to Sara’s vacated one.

Shane was not very bright, but he listened. He also liked to drink, and Sara had dangled a whiskey bottle as added incentive, not allowing him to drink until after the house job had been carried out. For, once Romeo started stirring, Shane would again tie up Sara and handcuff her to her chair. Then he would slap awake the lovelorn Romeo, coercing him to give him the combination to his parent’s house safe, threatening with a knife, to torture the squirming Sara if necessary. Sara’s Romeo should give the combination up fairly easily, for the dolt actually believed that Sara was as madly in love with him as he was with her. While she waited, Sara allowed her mind to relieve the events that had brought the rich young fly into her web.

Sara had literally bumped into Romeo a couple of months ago while at the horse track. But, as it so happened, it was a young lady who had garnered Sara’s attention first. The pretty Miss had stood out in a black satin blouse, glossy lime green skirt, and wide floppy hat. As she moved she sent flickering with rich sparkles, the stunning collection of emerald jewelry that adorned her shapely figure. This obviously wealthy girl was making her way timidly through the crowd while stuffing a wallet she had pulled from a lime green purse with a thick wad of track winnings.

Sara had trailed her through the crowd, waiting for opportunity to present its self. It did when the purse was set down, leaving it temporarily unattended. But, as her long slender fingers had reached for it, a young suited man dropped his race form and backed into Sara cutting her off. Sara apologized, employing the British accent she had been using that day, and picked up his race form, handing it to him with a sweet mousey smile. Thwarted, she then turned and immediately retreated back into the throng, but not before noticing that she had caught his eye. Sara had not found this surprising, given how fetching she must have looked in one of the customary long silky dresses that she habitually would pour herself into when on the prow! Sara wore them mainly because the slick material of the dress usually allowed her to slip in and out of tight situations, both physically and persuasively.

It was later that evening, still at the track and with no luck outside of bad, that Sarah saw Romeo, alone and looking vulnerable . She went up and slipped up against him, starting to feel for his wallet, but for some indiscernible reason, aborted the attempt. Apologizing instead, she engaged him into conversation, more out of curiosity than anything else. She even allowed him to invite her out for a bite to eat. It was then that she learned enough about his background to stir her felonious senses. Especially once she learned that the richly jeweled young lady whose fat wallet she had attempted to acquire was the Romeos twin sister.

Sara had then turned on her not inconsiderable charm. Using the British accent and faking the role of a ragamuffin vulnerable foreigner, Sara (who had been born in the Bronx) started seeing the rich kid for a couple of months. Making Romeo keep their clandestine affair a secret from his parents and sister, Sara carefully wove her silken web until the innocently gullible horsefly was wrapped up beyond his ability to fly. She had successfully gotten him to fall head over heels in love with her. Like a prowling cat, she waited, plotting meticulously, a way to part a small fortune away from him. When she had learned his parents would be in Europe for a month, she put her plan into action. She let Romeo in on her terrible secret, a racetrack gambling addiction. This had led to her “troubles” with a loan shark. After accepting her suitor’s offer to help her in any way possible, she suddenly vanished from his life. Taking the time to hire Shane to case the isolated country house where Romeo, his parents, twin sister and two older servants lived. She also convinced Shane, for a piece of the pie, to act the part of the loan shark heavy. Sara also bought a one way Cunard White Star Liner ticket to England to make her permanent escape. Once all the pieces of her scam were in place, she then sent Romeo the note pleading for him to bring the money, and rescue her from the Loan Shark.

Sara‘s scam had gone like a Rolex’s clockwork, and she now was forty thousand dollars richer. Now all she needed was that combination to set her up for life. She licked her lips, savoring the thoughts about what would conspire a once the combination was hers. Shane would again render Romeo unconsciousness, unbind Sara, and the pair would leave their victim incapacitated in the apartment, a living insurance policy, while they paid a nighttime visit to his parent’s isolated country manor.

********************** Postscript **********

It was early afternoon the next day when an ocean liner set sail from Boston Harbor, bound for a British Port. The majestic ships’ railed deck was lined with passengers watching the departure. Many more were lined up on the dock waving to the departing ocean bound liner. Several of those on the docks, mainly men, may have noticed a lady, with loose long raven hair, clad in a black satin blouse and a lime green skirt, with jewelry set with opulent emeralds sparkling merrily in the bright sun. No one would believe what the pretty faced girl with the satisfied look on her face had been up to the last 24 hours.

Sara was very satisfied and pleased with herself as her liner left the port towards its destination: a port in merry olde England. She put a hand down to hold onto her flapping lime green skirt as it caught in the breeze. Her eyes once again admiring the emerald bracelet and rings she was so brazenly wearing.

She allowed her mind to travel back to the early hours of that very morning, as her and Shane had entered the mansion, wearing Halloween masks and carrying small black satchels.

Romeo had accurately given Shane the combination to the mansions house safe located in the den. It had contained a bonanza of old bundled bills and several cases of amazingly bright sets of jewelry. Then came the part Sara had been waiting for, the girl’s room! Romeo’s twin sister’s boudoir where she insisted on keeping her jewels, rather than locking the expensive things in the house safe.

Sara could see that Shane became aroused as he had slapped a hand to the mouth of the sleeping Girl, jarring her awake. The look of terror in the girl’s eyes had made him drool with excitement. He made her get up, helpless and vulnerable in a long loose fitting purple satin night gown. Shane than tied her squirming figure securely to a chair, gagged her, and let her watch as Sara began to rob her blind. Shane, standing by the wide-eyed girl holding his knife to her heaving chest, did not understand why Sara was taking some of the captive’s long gowns and shiny clothes, but then he wasn’t meant too.

Sara saved the jewel case for last. Making sure their captive was watching, She pulled opened and meticulously picked clean the drawers of the massive oak jewel chest on a bedside stand next to their captive’s chair. The last drawer seemed to contain nothing but sets of satin gloves, which Sara happily added to the pile in the small black satchel. Underneath she found hidden a set of diamonds (ring, bracelet, cascading earrings and matching necklace) that put anything they had taken of her Mothers jewels to shame! Sara picked up the sets necklace and placed it around the frightened girl’s throat, admiring its fiery radiance. Sara went back to the bottom drawer and scooped up the rest of the set. After she placed it inside the now bulging satchel she turned and looked Romeos’ twin dead in the eye, commanding Shane to search her. He did, removing the necklace, and sucking off a solid gold pinky ring. He handed the loot to Sara, who had come over to take it; she looked at the struggling girl and said in a sultry voice, you will never wear these pretty toys again! They had then left her room; the girl forlornly slumped down, a sad little portrait in a limp purple satin bundle.

Sara had left Shane off at the apartment to deal with Romeo. She had previously doctored Shane’s promised bottle of whiskey with knock out drops. Whatever the pair’s fate would be, she did not possess the slightest worry or care.

After leaving Shane off, the rest of her plan had gone smooth as silk. Sara had gone to her recently rented hotel suit, placed the satchels in a steam trunk, changed into one of her newly acquired outfits and jewelry, then left the hotel in a rented (under an assumed name) chauffeured Limo for Boston, all before the sun rose. She boarded the liner as soon as it began to admit its passengers.

Sara’s mind came back to the present as the ocean line’s steam horn gave an explosively loud whoop as it sailed from the harbor. Watching the docks filled with spectators grow ever smaller, Sarah envisioned herself arriving in a similar set of London docks on the other side of the ocean. There, she would assume the life of a wealthy debutante, living the good life from the riches of her ill-gotten gains. She may even adopt the first name of Romeos twin sister for a self-amusing ruse; after all, she would be wearing the poor wretches’ gowns and jewels to all the best affairs!

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No Part of this can reprinted, duplicated, or copied be without the express written permission and approval of Chatwick University.

These photos and stories are works of fiction. Any resemblance to people, living or deceased, is purely coincidental.

As with any work of fiction or fantasy the purpose is for entertainment only, and should never be attempted in real life.

We accept no responsibility for any events occurring outside this website.

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I have always had a thing for lighthouses. Growing up in Nova Scotia could have something to do with that and the fact that it has over 150 lighthouses. They were often visited durning our family trips growing up. Not a all lighthouses are created equal from a photography point of view. What I like is the ability to isolate them from an other human structure. They I want rugged shores and a view of ocean. A reason why I keep going to Peggy’s Cove.

  

I was recently listening to a pod cast on the Flannan Isles Lighthouse mystery. The quick story is at in 1900 in Scotland the three lighthouse keepers stationed at the Flannan Isles lighthouse vanished. It remains unsolved today with only theories about what happened.

  

As I listened I pictured this image as the lighthouse. As I did not have a picture for reference (until after the fact). This picture of the Portland Head Lighthouse (Maine, USA) has a mysterious vibe to it. I was hoping for a vibrant sunrise, but got a rain and moody morning instead. There was very little colour in the image and the conversion to black and white adds to that ethereal look. With the use of an ND filter took an exposure of just over a minute blurring the waters motion to match the soft foggy sky.

Where the Jewels Are.

 

A Prequel to

“An Odyssey Less Taken “ (Tallie)

  

An Escapade in 3 Acts…

 

Excerpts:

 

************

 

Act 1

The Mustard Seed is planted

 

***********

 

A couple is getting ready to leave for an apparently Fancy Dress Affair:

  

The wife cascades down the stairs swirling her silk dress for to catch her husband’s eye, which she does.

  

Blimey Bess, did you leave anything in ur Jewelry Casket, he chides with a satisfied smirk.

 

Casket, Luv? Really? I keep telling you what a morbid term that is, she scolds him , while she smiles radiantly ; fetchingly placing a hand to her husband’s cheek, then straightening the black bow tie of his tux.

  

Don’t be snide, I know you like it when I dress. Besides it’s not often we get to hob nob with near royalty. Beth said in justification of herself driving to the occasion dressed to the nines.

 

But Beth, Calling it a casket is an old term, and her husband starts to explain (not for the first time) the origin of the phrase ”jewele casket”

Hush child, Beth simpers, placing a finger to his lips, with a very becoming look in her eyes, save it for the students. She turns away and he slaps her lovingly upon her posterior. She giggles and heads back to the stairs.

 

The doorbell rings.

  

Beth stops and turns, looking at the door. Could you get that dear, looks like a postal package. I have to go upstairs to finish my hair, and to bury my casket, you old toad she tosses at him, making no attempt to hide in her voice the with undying affection she has for her husband, the love of her life.

 

He obediently goes to the door, where a man in uniform can be seen through the window, waiting with a package.

 

He turns, a lump rising in his throat as he eyeballs his pretty ( to him) wife Bess. The main reason is too catch another look at the pretty party dress swishing along her withdrawing figure ,but he also throws a teasing retort at her retreating back, . besides, casket It what me Mum called it luv…..

  

Turning away, he goes to open the door.

 

End Act 1

*******

  

Act 2

The Trolley Cometh

 

*******

  

Up on a hummock a large stone manor sits, dominating the landscape below.

  

A proper butler opens the Manor’s double doors and a stream of well gowned, ladies pour out. The many jewels they are wearing sparkling like some sort of jewel filled waterfall as they move heading down to where a quite ornate Trolley awaits them.

  

The whispering rustle of high end satin and the erupting glitter of colourfully flickering tiffany quality jewels, lighting up the dreary early morning as female members of the wedding party descend.

  

The bride is the last to come out into the early morning, stopping to survey the activity below , ever so a royal highness looking down on her subjects.

  

It was her idea to have her brides maids be driven out to her parents country estate before the dress rehearsal and have a photo grapher take shots of her party at various locations. Since the Groom and his Groomsmen were not allowed, by custom, to view the gowned bride before the ceremony, they were of course not invited. Nor was anyone else outside herself, the bridal party and the photo grapher. The rehearsal and dinner were to take place later that afternoon, and the bride and her party would be changing at the country estate. Towards that means they had already placed cases aboard the trolley containing their evening clothes and everyday jewelry that they would wear for the evenings festivities..

  

She preferred to be in control off all aspects of the situation. Needless to say, her wedding planner, waiting at the stone cathedral, had developed a migraine over the whole affair.

  

After a couple of group shots are arranged in front of the elegant trolley, the party is herded aboard by the tuxedoed trolley driver. He has their schedule to keep. He is helped by his pretty blonde wife, herself dressed shimmering, sparkling, as she expertly moves (herds?) the elegant ladies , escorting them cheerfully to their seats.

  

And with a lurch of the trolley on the old private road, the entire ultra-wealthy group set off on their pre nuptial adventure.

  

End Act 2

 

*******

 

The connection between acts 1 & 2, for those who haven’t figured it out, will be revealed in act 3.

Please comment if you’re going to stay tuned for the outcome

 

************

  

****************

  

This would be the 3rd and possibly final installment of the trilogy…..If you are interested in reading the storyline complete you may find it enlightening to visit Acts 1 and 2 (respectively) before proceeding any further.

 

Please consider leaving a comment behind that you have (read) the acts. It would be deeply appreciated.

  

Act 3(?)

After the Harvest

*******

 

The inspector arrives in his rather jaunty sports auto. He emerges with his Detective Sargent, approaching a waiting constable.

  

The constable’s partner, Archie, is inside with the police matron.

  

What do we have Constable? The inspector asks quizzically.

  

Apparently we have a husband and wife teem who own and drive a private rental trolley, that then decides to waylay and rob the entire wedding party they were hired to ferry about.

  

Way out here, in the middle of nowhere, Constable?

  

Appears they were going to the Brides summer home to be photographed. The trolley turned down the path to this old deserted manor where they were told there was engine trouble.

  

And they were robbed, by the driver and his wife you say Constable?

  

Them, and two others waiting.

 

4 robbers then,

Who called it in Constable?

  

Received an anonymous tip

  

And just what were they robbed of, Constable? The inspector asked, almost wearily.

  

Stripped of everything down to their bloody knickers, the lot of them. Then handcuffed and left.

  

Language Mate, the inspector chided his constable, looking at his Sargent, taking this all down?

 

Detective Sargent nods

  

Now, he said turning back to the Constable, Just why do you suppose they stripped them of their clothes.

  

The gowns were worth L3000 pounds each, real emeralds, the brides was worth double that, with real diamonds

  

So they were robbed for their expensive clothes, then eh Sargent, the inspector leered.

  

No Sir that was not all the lot were after.

  

The Bride was wearing diamond jewelry worth L100,000 pounds easy, the rest of the girls were wearing matching emeralds sets that the bride paid L32,000 pounds each.

  

Each, The inspector arched an eyebrow.

  

Each of the Bridesmaids, inspector, answered the ridden constable.

  

That’s a great amount of information constable. Just how did you acquire it.

  

The bride sir, she won’t stop squawking on about it. answered the Constable

 

Careful how you talk about your betters, constable, the inspector winked at him.

 

I’m sure the young lady in question has every right to squawk.

  

So let me get this straight constable, a bridal party was Shanghaied and robbed of their possessions by their trolley driver, his wife and two other associates. Then someone cordially calls the station to let us in on the joke?

  

Right sir, no joke though

  

Then why did they leave their trolley here, for evidence against them?

Asked the Inspector, before turning to his Detective Sargent.

  

Sergeant. send a man down to the drivers abode, the information should be acquired from the registration from the plates they so handily left.

  

The Constable cleared his throat, actually my partner Archie already called it in Sir.

  

The inspector raised an eyebrow, Glad to see someone is on the ball.

  

The police radio crackles, the constable goes to answer it.

  

He comes back, standing smartly at attention.

  

Just received a call, they found the husband and wife tied up in their basement.

Apparently two men posing as a postal worker and driver held them up.

  

The ones who robbed the bride and her party? Constable?

  

No sir, apparently the two who brought them here were imposters.

The real uns were held them up at gunpoint, made to strip to their underthings and tied up.

Then Two others, man and woman, took the Trolly to the Manor to “pick up” the Bride and her Bridesmaids.

 

Has a statement been taken? Yes sir, but there is not much.

 

Thieves were disguised as postal workers. House was ransacked, safe looted, wife jewel case cleaned out, the usual.

After burgling their manor, the occupants were stripped to their skivvies, trussed up and locked in their basement cannery.

 

Then a call came in on their telephone, the thieves answered it. After they hung up, the husband heard their phone used to call us, and heard the two thieves leave..

 

Was anything said by the thieves?

 

They only overheard the one thing, something one of the postage men said.

  

Thief posing as one, right constable, don’t want to give anyone a bad rep

  

Yes sir,

it appears that when the thief - wearing the postman’s costume- answered the phone, he repeated a phrase.

  

And what would that phrase have been, constable?

  

Mustard Seed,

  

Mustard seed? Eh.

  

Sergeant, the inspector turned to his detective sergeant. That begs the question, why Mustard seed?

 

The Detective Sergeant mulled it over for a minute. Then offered:

Seed, could be seed money, mustards grow from a small seed into something quite large. This robbery was seed money for something bigger, possibly, sir?

  

Not bad Sargent, will make an inspector of you yet.

  

The inspector turns back to the constable, who has had just about enough of his superiors questions.

He is relieved to now hear what the inspector has to say.

  

Constable, stand pat here while my sergeant and I have a chat with our victims inside,

 

The inspector turned to his Detective Sergeant :

Let’s get this lot sorted out, and then will we’ll head over and see about the driver and his wife…

  

The two made their way up towards the decaying deserted manor house.

  

The Constable, watching them disappear inside, mutters under his breath.

  

That is an awfully big haul just for seed money. I would be happy with what that lot will get for what they stole. I bet the old man is off target on this one. Thieves probably will be out of the country with the loot and have it pawned in the states by the time he gets done with his questions.

 

The constable was closer to the truth than he realized…..

 

Originally the gang planning the heist had meant to carry out the caper then head off to parts unknown with the loot and lay low. During planning the stages of the heist, one of their members infiltrated the group to garner information. Remarks were interestingly overheard by chatting bridesmaids about a lavish affair being staged a fortnight away (only one week after the rehearsal dinner).

 

From the “seed” planted by that helpful bit of overheard gossip, grew the new job the group was now going to carry out very shortly .

Mustard seed become its code name.

  

End of Act 3

 

*****************

 

In addendum

  

Now we break away from the crime scene to visit an occurrence that took place some two hours prior to the phone call that alerted the police to the unfortunate incident related above.

  

The scene: Inside a C. Hoare & Co branch, in a posh end of London..

 

Two ladies, both, opulently dressed in satins and jewels, their thick fur coats have been carefully hung by a smartly dressed lady porter, nearby, had been seated and served. The pair are now alone in a richly furnished private room of the bank. Wine at hand, they are merrily going through a collection of jewelry glistening from an open safe deposit strongbox brought up from the depths of the banks’ vault.

  

The fashionable, long haired daughter is half-heartedly trying on one of several jewel encrusted Tiaras…… Her stylish, bobbed haired mother is admiring the sparkle of a diamond waterfall style necklace; the pricy jewels’ matching mates, (earrings and bracelets and brooch) are laid out next to her.

 

The daughter suddenly lest out a squeal of delight as she spy’s a small sparkling ruby and emerald encrusted diamond cocktail ring , which she grabs and slips on her pinky. She admires the raw, rainbow like fireworks as she moves it under the lights.

 

Mum, can I? it will go ever so nicely with the gown I’m wearing to Polly’s Soiree.

 

Hey, that was my Great Aunts , her Mother yelps grasping at the ring. Almost looking like Defoe’s Sunday dressed Moll Flanders snatching at the colourful trinket worn by a young miss, awed by the passing parade of royals.

 

Unlike that distracted young miss, however, the daughter was able to hold the ring high from the reach of Her mother’s fingertips, giggling as she did so.

 

Now Millicent, her mother lectured, You know we don’t approve of young Lady Pollyanna’s fancy boy, Raul. He would probably manage a way to slip the ring from off your finger.

 

Oh, MaMa, , answered Millicent, I’ll be ever so careful, and please don’t you harp on poor Raul. He really is quite a dear, and the pearls were simply lost, nothing more. Let me wear the ring, and I’ll wear whatever jewelry you pick out for me the weekend, Sagely bargained Millicent.

 

Promise? Her mother asks, relenting in to her daughter’s wishes. It’s just that we don’t you making publicity over getting robbed just before your occasion.

 

Mum, Millicent says soothingly, nothing will happen to me before my Debs Ball, or occasion as you will call it. She bent over and kissed her mother on the forehead, before going back to her admiration of the pretty ring.

 

But innocently enough, pretty Millicent has no idea of the prophetic canniness her naively made promise to her mother would soon foretell.

  

To be continued….

 

Please see:

 

Album entitled “Tallie”

For the main story of what the mustard seed turned out to grow into…..

 

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The study below was derived from facts uncovered while doing research for the following Doctorial dissertation:

Light to the shadows of their mind:

Criminal tatics and strategies

Criminology Department Dept.

Chatwick University

  

Storyline:

The idiot had fallen for the ruse, hook line and sinker. Believing Sara had been kidnapped by a loan shark, he had willingly come to rescue his damsel in distress, bringing the $40,000 he believed she owed her life for. Seeing Sara handcuffed and bound to a chair had been too much for him, and he tried to attack Shane in a vain attempt to rescue her. Shane had unwisely hit him with his pistol, forcing Sara to wait until he regained consciousness to implement the second phase of her plan. Shane had unbound Sara until that time arrived, and she busied herself with counting her money with a lovingly caressing hand, hoping the lovesick twit had not been dumb enough to pawn the family jewels to raise it.

 

As she was contemplating these facts, she stole an uncaring eye on her would be love- sick suitor, whom she thought of, indifferently, as a clueless naive Romeo. Then she looked up at the blank faced Shane, who still held the rod lamely in his grasp. She hissed at Shane to tie the young man up securely. He did so, roughly tying him up, and then hand cuffing him to the chair he moved next to Sara’s vacated one.

Shane was not very bright, but he listened. He also liked to drink, and Sara had dangled a whiskey bottle as added incentive, not allowing him to drink until after the house job had been carried out. For, once Romeo started stirring, Shane would again tie up Sara and handcuff her to her chair. Then he would slap awake the lovelorn Romeo, coercing him to give him the combination to his parent’s house safe, threatening with a knife, to torture the squirming Sara if necessary. Sara’s Romeo should give the combination up fairly easily, for the dolt actually believed that Sara was as madly in love with him as he was with her. While she waited, Sara allowed her mind to relieve the events that had brought the rich young fly into her web.

 

Sara had literally bumped into Romeo a couple of months ago while at the horse track. But, as it so happened, it was a young lady who had garnered Sara’s attention first. The pretty Miss had stood out in a black satin blouse, glossy lime green skirt, and wide floppy hat. As she moved she sent flickering with rich sparkles, the stunning collection of emerald jewelry that adorned her shapely figure. This obviously wealthy girl was making her way timidly through the crowd while stuffing a wallet she had pulled from a lime green purse with a thick wad of track winnings.

 

Sara had trailed her through the crowd, waiting for opportunity to present its self. It did when the purse was set down, leaving it temporarily unattended. But, as her long slender fingers had reached for it, a young suited man dropped his race form and backed into Sara cutting her off. Sara apologized, employing the British accent she had been using that day, and picked up his race form, handing it to him with a sweet mousey smile. Thwarted, she then turned and immediately retreated back into the throng, but not before noticing that she had caught his eye. Sara had not found this surprising, given how fetching she must have looked in one of the customary long silky dresses that she habitually would pour herself into when on the prow! Sara wore them mainly because the slick material of the dress usually allowed her to slip in and out of tight situations, both physically and persuasively.

 

It was later that evening, still at the track and with no luck outside of bad, that Sarah saw Romeo, alone and looking vulnerable . She went up and slipped up against him, starting to feel for his wallet, but for some indiscernible reason, aborted the attempt. Apologizing instead, she engaged him into conversation, more out of curiosity than anything else. She even allowed him to invite her out for a bite to eat. It was then that she learned enough about his background to stir her felonious senses. Especially once she learned that the richly jeweled young lady whose fat wallet she had attempted to acquire was the Romeos twin sister.

Sara had then turned on her not inconsiderable charm. Using the British accent and faking the role of a ragamuffin vulnerable foreigner, Sara (who had been born in the Bronx) started seeing the rich kid for a couple of months. Making Romeo keep their clandestine affair a secret from his parents and sister, Sara carefully wove her silken web until the innocently gullible horsefly was wrapped up beyond his ability to fly. She had successfully gotten him to fall head over heels in love with her. Like a prowling cat, she waited, plotting meticulously, a way to part a small fortune away from him. When she had learned his parents would be in Europe for a month, she put her plan into action. She let Romeo in on her terrible secret, a racetrack gambling addiction. This had led to her “troubles” with a loan shark. After accepting her suitor’s offer to help her in any way possible, she suddenly vanished from his life. Taking the time to hire Shane to case the isolated country house where Romeo, his parents, twin sister and two older servants lived. She also convinced Shane, for a piece of the pie, to act the part of the loan shark heavy. Sara also bought a one way Cunard White Star Liner ticket to England to make her permanent escape. Once all the pieces of her scam were in place, she then sent Romeo the note pleading for him to bring the money, and rescue her from the Loan Shark.

 

Sara‘s scam had gone like a Rolex’s clockwork, and she now was forty thousand dollars richer. Now all she needed was that combination to set her up for life. She licked her lips, savoring the thoughts about what would conspire a once the combination was hers. Shane would again render Romeo unconsciousness, unbind Sara, and the pair would leave their victim incapacitated in the apartment, a living insurance policy, while they paid a nighttime visit to his parent’s isolated country manor.

 

********************** Postscript **********

 

It was early afternoon the next day when an ocean liner set sail from Boston Harbor, bound for a British Port. The majestic ships’ railed deck was lined with passengers watching the departure. Many more were lined up on the dock waving to the departing ocean bound liner. Several of those on the docks, mainly men, may have noticed a lady, with loose long raven hair, clad in a black satin blouse and a lime green skirt, with jewelry set with opulent emeralds sparkling merrily in the bright sun. No one would believe what the pretty faced girl with the satisfied look on her face had been up to the last 24 hours.

 

Sara was very satisfied and pleased with herself as her liner left the port towards its destination: a port in merry olde England. She put a hand down to hold onto her flapping lime green skirt as it caught in the breeze. Her eyes once again admiring the emerald bracelet and rings she was so brazenly wearing.

She allowed her mind to travel back to the early hours of that very morning, as her and Shane had entered the mansion, wearing Halloween masks and carrying small black satchels.

 

Romeo had accurately given Shane the combination to the mansions house safe located in the den. It had contained a bonanza of old bundled bills and several cases of amazingly bright sets of jewelry. Then came the part Sara had been waiting for, the girl’s room! Romeo’s twin sister’s boudoir where she insisted on keeping her jewels, rather than locking the expensive things in the house safe.

 

Sara could see that Shane became aroused as he had slapped a hand to the mouth of the sleeping Girl, jarring her awake. The look of terror in the girl’s eyes had made him drool with excitement. He made her get up, helpless and vulnerable in a long loose fitting purple satin night gown. Shane than tied her squirming figure securely to a chair, gagged her, and let her watch as Sara began to rob her blind. Shane, standing by the wide-eyed girl holding his knife to her heaving chest, did not understand why Sara was taking some of the captive’s long gowns and shiny clothes, but then he wasn’t meant too.

 

Sara saved the jewel case for last. Making sure their captive was watching, She pulled opened and meticulously picked clean the drawers of the massive oak jewel chest on a bedside stand next to their captive’s chair. The last drawer seemed to contain nothing but sets of satin gloves, which Sara happily added to the pile in the small black satchel. Underneath she found hidden a set of diamonds (ring, bracelet, cascading earrings and matching necklace) that put anything they had taken of her Mothers jewels to shame! Sara picked up the sets necklace and placed it around the frightened girl’s throat, admiring its fiery radiance. Sara went back to the bottom drawer and scooped up the rest of the set. After she placed it inside the now bulging satchel she turned and looked Romeos’ twin dead in the eye, commanding Shane to search her. He did, removing the necklace, and sucking off a solid gold pinky ring. He handed the loot to Sara, who had come over to take it; she looked at the struggling girl and said in a sultry voice, you will never wear these pretty toys again! They had then left her room; the girl forlornly slumped down, a sad little portrait in a limp purple satin bundle.

 

Sara had left Shane off at the apartment to deal with Romeo. She had previously doctored Shane’s promised bottle of whiskey with knock out drops. Whatever the pair’s fate would be, she did not possess the slightest worry or care.

 

After leaving Shane off, the rest of her plan had gone smooth as silk. Sara had gone to her recently rented hotel suit, placed the satchels in a steam trunk, changed into one of her newly acquired outfits and jewelry, then left the hotel in a rented (under an assumed name) chauffeured Limo for Boston, all before the sun rose. She boarded the liner as soon as it began to admit its passengers.

 

Sara’s mind came back to the present as the ocean line’s steam horn gave an explosively loud whoop as it sailed from the harbor. Watching the docks filled with spectators grow ever smaller, Sarah envisioned herself arriving in a similar set of London docks on the other side of the ocean. There, she would assume the life of a wealthy debutante, living the good life from the riches of her ill-gotten gains. She may even adopt the first name of Romeos twin sister for a self-amusing ruse; after all, she would be wearing the poor wretches’ gowns and jewels to all the best affairs!

 

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All rights and copyrights observed by Chatwick University, Its contributors, associates and Agents

No Part of this can reprinted, duplicated, or copied be without the express written permission and approval of Chatwick University.

 

SS Lane Victory is a U.S.A Victory-class cargo ship that served in 3 wars: WWII, Korean, and Vietnam. The ship was preserved in 1998 to serve as a fully operational museum ship in San Pedro (Port of Los Angeles), California. She is used in many film and TV productions. Some of her credits include:

Feature Films:

The Curious Case of Benjamin Button

Flags of Our Fathers

The Thin Red Line

Pearl Harbor

Titanic

U-571

Deep Cover

Don Juan de Marco

Double Impact

GI Jane

Gone in 60 Seconds

Naked Gun Two and 1/2

Outbreak

 

TV Shows/Movies

Alias

Baywatch

The Burning Zone

Buffy, The Vampire Slayer

California'S Gold

Cold Case

JAG

Mail Call (episode #70)

MacGyver

Murder She Wrote

The National Geographic Channel

NCIS

Return of the Pirates (History Channel)

Special Ops Mission

Unsolved Mysteries

The X Files

V.I.P.

 

From IMDB www.imdb.com/search/title/?locations=s.s.%20lane%20victor...

 

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