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

Acte 7 : Harbinger

Subtitle : Insulting the Injuries

As he finishes sounding the alarm, the Constable pulls the whistle from his lips, and takes a clearer observation of the situation. He immediately realizes that whatever the pair was , they were not a immediate threat.

  

Ere you two can’t go about dressed like its Guy Fawkes evening, or sumthin. He yells to the grimy figures as he approaches closer,his confidence restored as he hears footsteps running up the block towards him.

  

The Mistress pushes Edmund off to the side, my good man, I need to report a molestation. The officer, taken aback by what he assumes is a couple of vagabonds daring to give him orders, answers back tartly,

Ere now, ewe do you think you are, the Qheens mother?

No you insolent bastard, The Mistress retorts, don’t you recognize Lord and Lady Edmund of Staghurst manor. Ya,the Constable retorts, and Im the Duke of Wellington. At this time he is aware of a couple of his fellow officers are now at his shoulder. He begins to bark out orders, calling for the paddy and has the quarrelsome pair of miscreants hauled off to goal to let them cool their heels till morning.

.

 

Fortunately for the Lord Edmund and the mistress, the local station was being visited by a superintendent whom knew of Lord Edmund( both belonging to the same gentleman’s club) and was in fact on his way to the same Ball. He had the constable apologize and after taking statements, arranged for the pair to be driven back to The Manor House, where they arrived fairly late in the evening.

  

Sheets are brought out as the servants watch; giggling to themselves over the situation, help drape them over the abused figures of Lord Edmund and the Mistress. Both take heavy sedatives, and are immediately put to bed for the evening, and soon the entire household is quietly at rest, at least for the time being.

 

--

For, as the the Lord and Mistress are driven back after finally being released from prison, another series of events have been taking place:

  

On a darkened market block, still busy at this time of the evening, a familiar figure is seen weaving in and out amongst the crowds, threading her way through vendors still lining the streets. There is still some gossip being passed around about the police activity of a few blocks away, and more than one pair of eyes are on the lookout for anything unusual, give the girl more than a passing glance.

    

The young teenage gypsy girl now walking briskly down a street, is ignoring the calls from the vendors carts and the old men leering at her from doorways and alleyways as she makes her way. She is a dark green eyed, long haired beauty, with a secretive look on her face. Still wearing the colourefully long silken tiered skirt, with a white full sleeved blouse, and several silk scarves that she had been wearing when first coming upon The Lord and Mistress of Staghurst almost 90 minutes ago by their out of commission Roll-Royce. She is also now wearing a small rucksack, and carrying a parcel neatly wrapped in old newspaper.

  

She stops in front of an old blackened building that houses a Pub, named The Poet and the Peasant, which carries with it a dark reputation. She stops, letting her eyes look about her, she suddenly moves, darting inside with a swishing of her long silken tiered skirt. She walks purposefully through the main bar room, again ignoring the cackling old drunks sitting on stools at the bar and around ill-lit tables.

  

She walks into a darkened, smoke filled back hallway, and cautiously enters a room at the end. A man with rather unusual features ( hook nose, right eye half closed, and a nasty scar along one hollow cheek below right eye, thin moustache) is sitting at a table, talking in a whisper to a pair of rather devious looking characters, a cigar hanging precariously from one side of his mouth. He spies the girl, and grins showing a mouth full of yellowed, chipped teeth. “Gentleman”, I have a visitor he announces, sharply. The pair of men looks at the girl, then rise, and silently slips past her without a second glance.

 

Wotcher the man with the cigar says In careful greeting, but with a wary look on his humorless face.. The girl approaches, and sitting down, opens her fist and setting a ring of keys on the table, slides them towards him.

 

He picks them up, toying with them for a few seconds. He looks backup, interested, still up to your mysterious games I see, whose pocket got picked for these I wonder?, he asks himself. Then looks full into her green eyes.

 

What will this get me, sister’s daughter? He asks throwing them back on the stained oak bar table top, his curiosity and attention both peeked.

  

The girl undoes her silk scarf, and opens the collar of her silken blouse, exposing a magnificent necklace of shimmering sapphires and diamonds, where it had been hidden from the view of anyone treacherous enough to indifferently slit a young girl’s throat to have them from her.

  

You cheeky imp!, the man whistles, it makes a funny sound as the cigar is still clamped in his mouth. Taking risks ware’n a fancy choker like that round ere. Don’t tell me you got that fancy decoration by using just your fingers lass ? She just smiles mischievously, her eyes opened doe wide, as her Uncle reads into them, accurately interprets the message hidden in the depths of the sparkling dark green eyes gazing at him..

  

Where’s the rest then he asks, but it is not really a question, he knows the answer all too well. She hands him the parcel, and with a swing of her body, her hair flying off to one side, she takes off the small, rucksack and lays both on the table.

  

He cuts the strings of the newspaper clad parcel with a thin knife he seems to produce from thin air. Inspecting the contents, he lifts up something thin and slippery, dyed a purplish hue, he also lifts a white fluffy fur sleeve. He then opens the small rucksack and peers inside, his left eye opening wide, as a thin smile cracks his usually stern demeanor, he lifts up a sparking diamond bracelet He looks up at his niece, and opening g his hand, beckons with his fingers. She obediently removes the necklace and placed it shimmering into his palm. He places it inside the rucksack with the rest.

  

Were your cousins involved with this, he hisses sharply. The Gypsy girl still doesn’t say a word, but he reads his answer in her sly dark green eyes, not that he really needed her confirmation on that suspicion.

  

Things need to cool a bit, these will have to be buried in a very deep dark, quiet hole indeed. Gather the boys and lay low for a few weeks till things die down with the local bobbies He opens a thick billfold and extracts several pound notes, this is just for starters till the tide washes back.

 

Payment for information after, he says to her, it was not a question. She leans in towards him, and finally breaks her silence, speaking in a low murmur into her Uncles ear. The name Staghurst is mentioned, along with a few more particulars. He listens intently to the girl, his eyes gathering in every last tidbit, until she finishes. He asks no more questions of her, he has all that he needs.

  

She leaves, and her uncle reaches under the table and presses a button. Strike while the irons hot he is thinking, and then murmurs to himself, and this iron is bloody steam’en.

 

A rather oafish fellow, with keen eyes enters. The man at the table starts to bark out orders, orders that place into motion a string of events that will be carried out and completed straightaway. Orders that will totally cover any tracks made by a pair of events, one that occurred earlier in a dark alleyway,and a second that will occur well before cock crow

 

End of Acte 7,

Watch for the final Acte 8 ( Footfalls) coming soon

 

Touted as " America's most haunted homes", the plantation is supposedly the home of at least 12 ghosts. It is often reported that 10 murders occurred in the house. In 2002, Unsolved Mysteries filmed a segment about the alleged hauntings at the plantation. According to host Robert Stack, the production crew experienced technical difficulties during the production of the segment. The Myrtles was also featured on a 2005 episode of Ghost Hunters

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 leading into a romantic interlude, ending up with them in bed as they reminisced about the last time they had “visited” England a few years back…..

It had proven a fairly profitable venture with the jewelry alone netting almost 100,000 pounds. It all had culminated quite nicely at one of the posh events they had crashed that final weekend. Their final score had come about from 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 unminded by her elders. Mollie had indignantly stated to her husband that the antique trinkets were simply just too expensive for a child so squirminly young to be trusted with. Her husband then went about the task to prove his wife correct in her statement.

 

After talking a bit about the English Girls parents reaction to the unsolved disappearance of their daughters ultra-pricey pendent , 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 full 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. An older lady , well jeweled, of the arrogant know it all, obey me totally type whom everyone tries to avoid. 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.

  

Courtesy of Chatwick University Archives

 

Just inside the Cathedral door of Seville’s massive cathedral stands a monument to Christopher Columbus. His tomb is held aloft by four allegorical figures representing the four kingdoms of Spain during Columbus’ life, Castille, Aragon, Navara, and Leon.

 

The tomb was one of the last additions to the cathedral, installed in 1899. It was designed by the sculptor Arturo Melida, and was originally installed in Havana before being moved to Seville after Spain lost control of Cuba.

 

Columbus’ body began its final rest in Valladolid Spain, where he died in 1506, and was moved shortly thereafter to Seville, by orders of his surviving brother, Diego. In 1542, the remains were again moved, this time to Colonial Santo Domingo, in what is now the Dominican Republic, where they were installed in the newly completed Cathedral of Santa Maria. There they remained for a couple of centuries.

 

Then, in 1795 when Spain lost control of the Dominican Republic, they were moved again to Havana, Cuba. 100 years later, they made their final voyage back home to Seville, and placed in the cathedral where you can visit him today.

 

Unfortunately, after all that effort, in 1877 a very suspicious box was discovered back in Santo Domingo inscribed with the words “The illustrious and excellent man, Don Colon, Admiral of the Ocean Sea.”

 

That box is now contained in the massive “Faro a Colon” Lighthouse in Santo Domingo. Despite examinations and a recent DNA test of the remains in Seville, the question remains somewhat unsolved or completely resolved, depending on whom you ask.

 

Seville Cathedral was designated a World Heritage Site by UNESCO in 1987. www.atlasobscura.com/places/tomb-of-christopher-columbus

A dead drunk Santa? No, just a bit tipsy. Earlier this week CBC TV came over to do a story on my dead santa forensic works. While we were walking around North Toronto I stopped to take a picture of this Roselawn santa in repose!

Night shot of Pinchin Street. On the 10th of September 1889 a dismembered torso was found in one of the arches on this street by PC William Pennett. The arch in question is the one with the graffiti on it after the first light. Can't tell you when they were sealed up.This unidentified woman was of the set of unsolved murders in the East End of London collectively referred to as The Whitechapel Murders, but was not considered a victim of Jack the Ripper.

 

Before I took this shot, I was further down the street wanting to get a shot looking in the direction I am standing, but a couple of seedy people told me to get the fuck away. I knew better than to start an argument with some dangerous thugs, so I walked away. I did though, end up taking this shot from this position. The previous shots were taken at an angle.

 

There is still an unsettling atmosphere about streets like this, especially at night & when it is quiet.

 

Nikon F4. AF Nikkor 50mm F1.4D lens. CineStill 800T 35mm C41 film.

yep, that's chubby little three year old me and my best buddy, and where he is now is an unsolved mystery. When I found this photo in a drawer at my parent's many years ago it triggered a long buried memory of an incident from my childhood.

 

We were living in Aldergrove, about a forty-five minute drive from Surrey where all our friends and relatives were. I was fourish and my sister twoish and my parents were 23 and 24. My Dad had got a new job as a provincial farm inspector so I'm assuming we moved to be closer to his work as it was a very rural area, where my lonely mother would take us for walks and all we would see were fields and cows.

 

So one day she had got us all dolled up as we were going to Grandma's house! Oh boy, my sister and I were so happy, we loved our Grandma. My Dad had come home from work and I guess he was cranky and tired and the thought of visiting his in-laws was not giving him a thrill, and as I played with Bunny, arguing ensued, which I was quite used to, they fought a lot. But then suddenly our mother hauled my sister and me into our bedroom, and peeled off our brand new white knee socks !! and of course, we started to blubber and this pissed my Dad off even more, and he started hollering and my Mom hollered back, it was quite a todo. I took refuge with dear Bunny but then the shit really hit the fan when my Dad noticed that I had tried to stuff Bunny's stout legs into a pair of his socks. The details escape me now, sixty years later, but Bunny was not allowed to come to grandma's house ... I haven't forgotten the sadness that I felt ...

 

So, I said to my father after I recounted this tale of woe to him, this was about twenty years ago now, and he remembered the incident, looked very hangdog, apologized for being such an asshole, explained what he had to do on his job, seeing abused farm animals, putting up with his mean boss, working with older fellows who tormented him daily, I felt bad for him. But, I asked, what about the hatred of white knee socks? why, why, why?

well, one of his jobs before that had been driving a bus at a local facility for mentally challenged people. The women had to wear a uniform of a plain dress, a cardigan, and these ghastly white knee socks ... go figure eh.

So I told him I forgave him and wondered out loud whatever happened to my beloved Bunny and I swear I saw a flicker of guilt pass over his face ...

 

The lone and ancient English oak that stands atop Meon Hill, a couple of hundred feet above the Cotswolds village of Mickleton, Gloucestershire, England.

 

Much legend and myth surrounds this location, formerly the site of a Neolithic fort, and reputedly the inspiration for Tolkien's 'Weathertop' from The Lord of the Rings trilogy. It was supposedly created by the devil in an attempt to destroy a nearby abbey, presumably in vain, since he missed and created this hill with the large clod of Earth he was meant to be lobbing at it instead. By night, it is rumoured to be frequented by the phantom hounds of the Celtic King Arawyn, something backed up by the many sightings of mysterious large black dogs in the area. The king was the lord of departed spirits who would hunt to gather souls, riding a pale horse and accompanied by a pack of hounds with red ears.

 

However, its most notorious claim to fame is that it was the scene for a murder that took place on Valentine's Day - the Eve of Lupercalia, an ancient Pagan festival of love - in 1945, when a local farm worker was killed in a manner suggesting witchcraft was involved. According to the old Julian calendar in use until the Middle Ages, February 14th actually fell on February 2nd which, according to local superstition, was traditionally the best day for a blood sacrifice. The victim, Charles Walton, was impaled to the ground by a pitchfork, a trouncing hook embedded in his throat and a cross carved upon his chest. Local police, baffled, brought in the famous Inspector Fabian of the Yard, but the case remained unsolved, thanks in part to reticence to talk about the events by the local populace (a reluctance that apparently remains among the villagers even to this day). During the investigation a member of the police found a book titled Folklore, Old Customs and Superstitions in Shakespeareland, written by J Harvey Bloom in 1929. A striking passage in it stated another Charles Walton had died in 1885 - 60 years beforehand - after seeing a foreboding ghost in the shape of a headless woman accompanied by a big dark hound. Rumours of the 20th century Charles Walton being the same man, having returned to life thanks to witchcraft, endured.

 

Just before leaving to return to Scotland Yard in London, Fabian apparently glimpsed a large black dog at the murder site. Later that day, a large black dog was found dead, hung by its neck from a tree next to the murder scene and the same evening, a police car ran over and killed a similar dog in a lane near the village.

 

A strange postscript to the crime occurred in August 1960 during the demolition of outhouses behind Charles Walton's cottage. A workman saw something shining in the earth and, on picking it up, found it to be an old tin pocket watch. Later that day it was identified as being the watch that Walton was wearing on the day of his death. On opening the watch case, a small piece of coloured glass was found. Walton was known to have carried this around with him, never letting it out of his possession. The general consensus of opinion among the villagers was that this was a piece of witch glass, used to either reflect or absorb any evil thoughts that had been directed at its owner. The odd thing about this find was that the police had searched the building shortly after the crime and found nothing, so it appears that the killer must have returned at some point later to deposit the watch.

 

Taken on December 27, 2007.

homage to james ellroy. chapter 4. detailed report.

 

a shout out to the unfathomably talented venusascends, who started me on this particular journey through the mayan house a while back...

  

©gideon ansell. all rights reserved. use without permission is illegal

 

-----

 

the black dahlia case, as it became known, is unquestionably the most infamous & notorious of all of LA's unsolved crimes. ellroy's book "the black dahlia", gritty and passionate as all his work, was especially personal to him because his own mother was murdered when he was 10 not far from the location of the black dahlia crime scene. her murder was never solved either.

 

the mystique that has grown up around the glamorization of the gruesome crime masks the actual victim, elizabeth short, who grew up in hyde park, massachusetts (a neighborhood of boston, about a mile from my house) and made her way to LA as one of thousands of silver screen hopefuls in the forties. behind the media frenzy of the crime was an actual young woman whose real brief life and identity is virtually lost in the sensationalism.

  

Once again I find myself going down the wrong way on a one way street. Sigh this does happen to me, more than I admit. I almost passed this old plantation home. Parking illegally of course, I hopped out and starting snapping away. The home is for sale. I was drawn to the old oak tree to my right. It was huge and magnificant looking over to the branches I couldn't help but feel for a moment I was back in time. Moss hanging off with long branches hovering just above the roof, I thought it framed the house giving a feeling of really old, which I imagine they are by about a hundred years.

 

Added:

To me EXPLORE was like a Unicorn full of mystery remaining on of the great "unsolved mysteries" of flickr. Like on an adventure to seek Bigfoot or a Giant Panda. This seemed so out of reach for me. I'm a simple girl who was given my first Fisher Price 110mm camera at the age of five and I have been snapping away ever since. From the bottom of my heart thank you for the delightful comments, support and favs.

"Have patience with everything that remains unsolved in your heart. Try to love the questions themselves, like locked rooms and like books written in a foreign language. Do not now look for the answers. They cannot now be given to you because you could not live them. It is a question of experiencing everything. At present you need to live the question. Perhaps you will gradually, without even noticing it, find yourself experiencing the answer, some distant day. "

 

- Rainer Maria Rilke in Letters to a young poet

  

Be patient toward all that is unsolved in your heart

and try to love the questions themselves like locked rooms

and like books that are written in a very foreign tongue.

Do not now seek the answers,

which cannot be given you because you would not be able to live them.

 

And the point is, to live everything.

Live the questions now.

Perhaps you will find them gradually, without noticing it,

and live along some distant day into the answer.

-rainer maria rilke, Letters to a Young Poet

“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

 

“Have patience with everything that remains unsolved in your heart.

 

Try to love the questions themselves, like locked rooms and like books written in a foreign language.

 

Do not now look for the answers. They cannot be given to you because you could not live them.

 

At present you need to live the questions.

 

Perhaps you will gradually, without even noticing it, find yourself experiencing the answers, some distant day."

Rainer Maria Rilke

 

PS

Inspired by a very talented artist here

Alex Alexander

 

thanks,Alex.

:)

Photo from - Tom Meyerhof - 5 December 2019

THE POSTAGE STAMPS OF BRITISH COLUMBIA & VANCOUVER ISLAND - LINK to the complete article - www.ottawaphilatelicsociety.org/resources/articles/postag...

 

• On 8 Jun 1859, Governor Douglas had requested the Colonial Secretary to supply “about 3 dozen obliterating dies, with a proportion of ink and boxes”. In Dec 1859 a total of 36 sequentially numbered handstamps were sent from London together with the 2½d stamp shipment. The handstamps were likely manufactured by David Garden Berri who had produced a similar (but not identical) series of oval numeral cancellers for England in May 1854.

 

• As new Canadian cancellation hammers were not received in BC until early in 1872 some months after it joined Confederation in July 1871, these numeral cancels can also be found on various Canadian Large and Small Queen stamps mailed in BC.

 

Clipped from - The Province newspaper - Vancouver, British Columbia, Canada - 22 February 1925 - On July 20, 1871, British Columbia joined the Dominion of Canada and all that remained of Colonial stamps were destroyed. Postal markings are a particularly interesting study in these colonies as they include the various rubber stamp colonial franks, the express markings and the puzzling numeral cancellations, these run from one to thirty-six, and their distribution is almost an unsolved problem; the No. 35 was the commonest cancellation, and was used In Victoria.

 

Locations of those where known used is as follows:

 

1 – New Westminster (BC)

2 – Douglas (BC) Later Port Douglas

3 – Hope (BC)

4 – Yale (BC)

7 – Lytton (BC)

8 – Clinton (BC)

9 – Seymour (BC) Later Seymour Arm

10 – William’s Creek (BC)

12 – Ashcroft (BC)

13 – Quesnel Mouth (BC) now called Quesnel

14 – French Creek (VI)

15 – Lillooet (BC)

16 – Lac La Hache (BC)

20 – Soda Creek (BC)

22 – Van Winkle (BC)

26 – Fort Langley (BC)

27 – Spences Bridge (BC)

28 – Burrard Inlet (BC) now Vancouver

33 – Ladner’s Landing (BC)

35 – Victoria (VI)

36 – Nanaimo (VI)

 

LINK to - British Columbia & Vancouver Island - The Jack Wallace Collection - October 16th, 2014 at Halifax, Nova Scotia - www.easternauctions.com/wp-content/plugins/ea_catalogs_pl...

Charles Walton (12 May 1870 - 14 February 1945), a native of Lower Quinton in Warwickshire, was found murdered on the night of 14 February 1945 at a farm known as The Firs, situated on the slopes of Meon Hill. Chief Inspector Robert Fabian was asked to lead the investigation into Walton's death but failed to gather sufficient evidence to charge anyone with his murder. The case has earned considerable notoriety because some believe Walton was killed as a blood sacrifice or as part of a witchcraft ceremony or, indeed, because he was suspected of being a witch himself. However, it is known that the chief suspect was the manager of The Firs, a man named Alfred John Potter, for whom Walton was working on the day he died. It is presently the oldest unsolved murder on the Warwickshire Constabulary records.[1]

 

See en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Charles_Walton_%28murder_victim%29

 

 

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

Symmetry

A plot in Motion

As excerpted from

“An Odyssey Less Taken “@

 

Tallie looked into the mirror as the bound Olivia stirred, a self-satisfied smirk lighting up her pretty face. It was time to administer the syringe containing the liquid that would render Olivia unconscious until late the next morning, giving them plenty of time. Olivia would wake thinking she had been the victim of a robbery. She should have no clue that the real reason was a simple piece of paper she had had tucked away inside her gold purse.

 

A couple of hours earlier:

 

Tallie had jogged into the upscale inn’s main lobby wearing a black running suite with her long,hair tucked up under a neoprene running cap. Playing the part of a guest who had gone out for exercise, she was also wearing thin gloves, wide wraparound sunglasses, small backpack and listening to music on her I Phone. She took up station in a corner of the inns’ huge lobby, like she was resting, while listening to her music. Ten minutes later, Olivia, whom Tallie had been shadowing, came in. Olivia had been easy to follow. An eye catching figure clad in a gold silk dress and pearls. She was carrying a shiny gold purse, and holding a bag containing a deep purple satin gown. Olivia had headed straight to the elevator, tapped her floor button and disappeared inside.

 

Tallie spent an uncomfortably anxious 10 minutes deciding what to do. Olivia had not gone to the front desk to take her jewels from the safe. Although her jewelry was not a main part of the plan, Tallie had loftier goals in mind, they did present a rather profitable bonus. Tallie decided to proceed, not wanting to blow the whole operation for a few pretty baubles. She had just risen when the elevator tinged. The doors opened, and Olivia exited into the lobby, still clad in the gold silk, and headed to the desk. There, she had the manager retrieve a black case. Showtime Tallie thought, relieved now that she had waited, watching as Olivia once again left in the elevator. Ten minutes after that, it was time to put the plan in motion. Using her I Phone, Tallie rang Olivia’s room pretending to be a hotel employee. “Someone had found something of yours in the lobby; a manager is on her way up with it.” She hung up not giving Olivia any chance for response.

  

From then, it had gone like clockwork. Tallie, with delight, watched the shocked look on Olivia’s face when she opened the door expecting a female hotel manager, but instead came face to face with a Taser wielding double of herself, Tallie! Firing the Taser, the shocked girl slumped into Tallies’ welcome arms. Kicking the door shut, Tallie pulled Olivia into the bathroom, where she was then bound and gagged. To make it look like a robbery, Tallie stripped Olivia of her pearl necklace, earrings, bracelets and rings. Then she quickly looted the apartment of any other small, but valuable items. Placing these items, along with the small backpack, into a leather clutch. Tallie then went to the dresser top and opened the black case sitting there. She whistled to herself as she savored the shiny contents. Looking them over, she made a selection, then poured the remaining jewelry into the clutch, glittering explosive fire as they went. She placed the selected diamond jewelry on the bathroom sink. Tallie found Olivia’s gold purse and opened it and pulled the ticket out. Studying, with eager eyes, the prize they had worked so hard to obtain. The small ticket was the key to the whole plot, worth potentially millions.

  

Carrying the purse to the bathroom, Tallie started to get ready. De bagging Olivia’s purple gown, she slipped it on. It poured over her curvy figure perfectly, as they had known it would. Tallie had switched her calfskin gloves for a pair of Olivia’s satin ones. It was as she had been putting on Olivia’s glittering diamonds that the tied up girl started to stir. Walking over to the groggy eyed girl, Tallie pretended to fumble with the ropes knots, and administered the hypo containing the knockout drops. After checking the heavily sedated Olivia’s Pulse, Tallie finished putting on the unlucky girls jewels.

 

Tallie admired herself in the mirror, almost not recognizing herself. She had dyed her midnight black hair blonde to match Olivia‘s and had put in blue tinted contacts. The clingy gown fitted snugly in all the right places, tightly outlining her perky breasts and nicely rounded butt. Very nice, thought Tallie beaming. After putting on Olivia’s stiletto heels, Tallie pronounced herself ready. Picking up the purse, she patted it for luck, and went into the bedroom. Tallie called the front desk, asking to have a limo called to pick her up out front, then she also ordered a wakeup call with breakfast for eleven o’clock the next morning. Hanging up the phone, Tallie still had 12 minutes left to kill. She spent it retracing her steps around the entire apartment making sure nothing had been overlooked, and then double checked that Olivia was going to stay out of the picture. When her time was up, Tallie snatched the clutch up from the satin covers of the bed, heavy now with Olivia’s valuables and her running suit and backpack. Tallie left the apartment, closing the door after hanging a do not disturb sign on the lever. Tallie entered the empty elevator , pushed the down button, and focused on the task at hand.

  

Finally, after seemingly endless months of careful plotting, preparation, rehearsals and dry runs. It was time. The whole scheme had been planned to the minutest detail, it had to be. The main prize was the tens of millions of dollars’ worth of jewels worn by the female guests attending the annual formal Casino Night by the Bay Ball. The annual black tie ball was a Republican Political Fundraiser by special invitation only and Olivia, who had been carefully selected and shadowed for weeks now, had been one of the lucky ticket holders. As a final coup de grâce , Tallie would attend the ball wearing Olivia’s luxurious gown and her brilliantly expensive diamonds, fitting right in with the other attendees. Security would be checking ID’s at the door. But Tallie now resembled Olivia almost to a T. She would fool those rent a cops easily as they checked her against Olivia‘s driver’s license for identification, bending over and showing a little bosom for added distraction. Tallie couldn’t wait to mingle and rub elbows with the galas ultra-rich patrons. She would mark her time by mingling and endearing herself to as many of the male guests as possible in the short time allotted to her. She would use her rich welsh brogue to the fullest to win over the posh male Yanks. All the while admiring the shiny gowns and scoping out the shimmering jewels that would be adorning her fellow female guests. Those jewels would include the Dahlkemper pearls, the Caboyt diamonds with the brilliant sapphires that placed the “Hope Diamond” to shame, and, of course, the famous matching waterfall diamond sets the Dempsey Twins would be wearing (Not to mention their Mother’s emeralds and rubies) . The sets, which had been presented as gifts at the twins ultra- fancy coning out ball, were insured for over 1 million dollars by the girls parents.

  

Then at the appointed hour, Tallie would slip away to a seldom used back stage door, conveniently hidden neath a stairwell. Security would not have this door covered. It was there that Tallies’ husband and his troupe of fellow masked thieves would be waiting to make their entrance. If all went to plan and it would, she was sure of that, they would proceed to hold up and rob all the guests. Relieving the lot of their fat designer purses, thick leather wallets, gold Rolexes, and of course, their jewels, Lots and lots of shimmering, pricy jewelry. Not to mention the piles of loose cash lying on the gambling tables begging to be collected. Tallie’s heart beat faster at the enticing visions.

 

After the last guest had been relieved of their valuables, Tallie’s next part of the plot would come. This was where Tallie’s experience as an actress would pay off. The thieves would grab an innocent hostage (Tallie) by knifepoint Then, while threatening the life of the frightened squirming hostage, order the rest of the guests to strip off their clothing. If Tallie had played her part well, mingling and playing the doe eyed innocent who reminded those she met as someone who they would love to protect, her fellow guests would not want to see her harmed and be obedient to the robbers threats, not wishing any harm to come to her. The guests would be threatened to not to try anything for the next hour, or they would eliminate their hostage. The gang would then leave with their loot, as well as their hapless hostage. Then they would make, what in Tallie’s opinion, was a rather brilliantly orchestrated get away.

  

This was not the first time out for Tallie and her husband’s team, but it promised to be their last. The gang had been operating in Europe and Latin America, seeking out small, but lucrative, gatherings of the privileged and ultra-wealthy. They had gotten quite adept, fine tuning a formula that successfully paid attention to even the minutest detail.

  

Tallie loved playing the part of the inside victim. Getting as close as possible to the female guests (usually by flirting with husbands and boyfriends) to get a close appraisal of their jewels. Then, after letting her husband and crew loose, observing the well-dressed guests being herded to line up along the wall with raised hands. Usually creating a colorful array of swishing lace, satin, silk , velvety gowns and dresses, all flowing along forlorn figures. It was a thrill to watch their facial and body expressions and reactions. Especially of the women and girls present, as they were forced to hand over their flashy gemstones, their Shiny gold and silver, opulent pearls and other assorted fine jewelry were handed over reluctantly from about their persons.

 

Then would come the part that really aroused Tallie. The thieves would reach her and tell her to “fork over the jewels miss,” and depending on her mood, would do so, either acting defiant and forcing them to take them off her, or frightened(especially if the thief was her husband) , and timidly handing them over. She would be squirming inside with a deep, delicious delight as she took off , or had the thief wrench off, each precious piece. It was a reaction she did not fully understand, but just knew and accepted it as a scintillating feeling. Tallie, shivered, licking her lips at past memories of being a robbery “victim”.

  

The band had no qualms about was fair game, boldly invading Weddings, Receptions, Fancy dress dances and even the upscale prom or mansion party. All had been meticulously planned, all had been very lucrative. Their last raid had been carried out on a coming out party for an English Earl/ Minister and his titled wife’s only daughter. It had occurred at the minister’s isolated country manor located deep in the moors. Where, in addition to the jewels worn by the guests that ill-fated Saturday evening, the manor’s many bedroom safes yielded a dazzling array of cases of unworn jewelry brought by the guests for the four day weekend.

  

Tallie fondly remembered that raid. She had gained access to the family by going as the guest of a rather vain bachelor she had “happened to make an acquaintance with,” in London. The dinner gatherings and nightly parties that had led up to the night of the debutante’s ball had been all over the top, as only very old money can pull off. Tallie had almost suffered a system overload by observing the bounty of rich offerings at her fingertips. Beckoning jewels so very close, and as of yet, so very far. The Saturday evening ball could not have come soon enough. But come it did, and the minister’s daughter did not disappoint, nor did her mother or any other of their female guests. The young debutante had made her grand entrance in a long slinky blood red gown and matching gloves. Among the child’s perfect jewels was included an authentic family heirloom tiara, dripping with pristine diamonds, holding up the wavy curls of her silky fawn hair.

  

Tallies mouth had watered as she kept stealing looks, keeping her eyes glued to the precocious miss all evening. She inwardly was squirming with anticipation, up until the delightful moment when the begowned debutante limply removed and handed over the tiara, along with the rest of her gleaming diamonds and pearls to one of the gang of masked robbers who had had the “audacity “ to crash the party..

  

Now, Tallie was traditionally allowed to keep one piece of jewelry from the loot taken from each job as part of her take if she so desired. She always enjoyed picking out pieces she would like to have as she mingled with her fellow guests before her husband’s gang charged in. In the coming out party it had been the sad puppy faced debutante‘s cascading diamond earrings that Tallie had claimed for her own from the minute she first saw them dangling from the pretty girl’s delicate ears. Tallie had subsequently worn and been “robbed” of those earrings several times on jobs since then.

  

After the Manor house’s guests had been relieved of their valuables, the gang had made its getaway, seemingly vanishing into the moors misty air. The mechanics of that escape would form the basis of their getaway attempt after this evening’s robbery of the wealthy guests attending the “By the Bay Ball” Actually the symmetry of the two events did not stop there. The profit realized by the take from the Earl’s family and guests had given the gang the seed money for the enormous expense in planning tonight’s complex raid. And tonight’s successful raid on the ball, appropriately enough, its diamond jubilee, would be splashed over all of the countries newspapers, like the Manor raid had been. And like after the Manor raid, Tallie and her husband would be reading those papers in the safty of their isolated island retreat.

 

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As Tallie dwelt on that remembrance, the elevator completed its long, uninterrupted journey by tinging its 1st floor arrival. Showtime! Tallie thought with wry amusement as she stepped into the now crowded lobby. Tonight would be more of the same tingling robbery experiences, only ten times better and since it may very well be her last time , Tallie was going to savor every delicious minute.

 

Tallie left the elevator and moved quickly towards the sitting area she had occupied when watching for Olivia to come in. In one of the chairs sat a young man wearing wraparound sunglasses reading a blue covered novel. She swished by him, allowing her satin clad leg to brush along his. She watched with enticement as he straightened, uncomfortably, in his chair, his reaction to her teasing pleasing her immensely . Going around him, she placed her clutch on the chair behind him before turning and primping herself in front of one of the long mirrored walls that lined the sitting area. Seeing that no one as of yet was looking her way, she smiled to herself and swished her way back into the main lobby, leaving behind her clutch. She again passed the young man, who, even with the sunglasses, bore a striking resemblance to a young Sidney Poitier! No signal passed between them. The blue novel meant everything was going as planned, a red novel would have meant danger. The clutch on the chair behind him signaled the young man she had teased, Jessie by name , that everything was a go on Tallies end. After she left, Jessie would retrieve the clutch and rejoin Tallies husband and the rest of his gang.

  

With the prearranged signals exchanged, Tallie happily made her way to the fancy Glass doors where a uniformed Doorman was opening for arriving and departing guests. She could feel more than one pair of jealous eyes following her as she weaved her way through the crowd, her long gown swishing deliciously along her pretty figure. The pretty blond in the purple satin and shimmering diamonds was soon lost to sight, as she exited the doors to the misty street below. Those watching her were totally oblivious that the pretty blonde passing them was setting into motion the complex wheels of a rather ingenious scheme. Meanwhile in a ballroom some miles away a large group of extremely well dressed and decked out guests attending a certain excessively extravagant Ball , were innocently mingling, jewels sparkled with a frenzied riot of colours! These heavily gem encrusted guests were also totally oblivious as to what fate had in store for them in a few hours.

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@ Chatwick University extends its compliments to the unknown artist whose worthy photo and captivating title proved to be the spark that ignited the genesis of our Tallies Odyssey….

 

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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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Just inside the Cathedral door of Seville’s massive cathedral stands a monument to Christopher Columbus. His tomb is held aloft by four allegorical figures representing the four kingdoms of Spain during Columbus’ life, Castille, Aragon, Navara, and Leon.

 

The tomb was one of the last additions to the cathedral, installed in 1899. It was designed by the sculptor Arturo Melida, and was originally installed in Havana before being moved to Seville after Spain lost control of Cuba.

 

Columbus’ body began its final rest in Valladolid Spain, where he died in 1506, and was moved shortly thereafter to Seville, by orders of his surviving brother, Diego. In 1542, the remains were again moved, this time to Colonial Santo Domingo, in what is now the Dominican Republic, where they were installed in the newly completed Cathedral of Santa Maria. There they remained for a couple of centuries.

 

Then, in 1795 when Spain lost control of the Dominican Republic, they were moved again to Havana, Cuba. 100 years later, they made their final voyage back home to Seville, and placed in the cathedral where you can visit him today.

 

Unfortunately, after all that effort, in 1877 a very suspicious box was discovered back in Santo Domingo inscribed with the words “The illustrious and excellent man, Don Colon, Admiral of the Ocean Sea.”

 

That box is now contained in the massive “Faro a Colon” Lighthouse in Santo Domingo. Despite examinations and a recent DNA test of the remains in Seville, the question remains somewhat unsolved or completely resolved, depending on whom you ask.

 

Seville Cathedral was designated a World Heritage Site by UNESCO in 1987. www.atlasobscura.com/places/tomb-of-christopher-columbus

Be patient toward all that is unsolved in your heart.

Try to love the questions themselves, like locked rooms and like books that are written in a very foreign tongue.

Do not now seek the answers, which cannot be given you because you would not be able to live them.

And the point is to live everything, live the questions now.

Perhaps you will then gradually without noticing it, live along some distant day into the answer.

 

-Rainer Maria Rilke

Letea forest is a natural reservation, covering an area of approximately 2,825 ha (6,980 acres). It is the oldest protected area in Romania. It was established in 1930, and not by accident: it is the northernmost subtropical forest in the world, and only of its kind in Europe, home of about 3,500 species of plants and animals.

 

It has a rich flora and fauna, described incompletly, but it is sure that rare and endangered species including endemic species (found only here) find their home here, such as Centaurea pontica. Visiting the forest is a unique experience as in a continental climate you will find a subtropical deciduous forest, interwoven with lianas. We can admire 4-700 years old oaks, poplars, elms, alders or lindens, but going in forest we can see sand dunes too. The sand dunes are home to many rare and endangered flora species as well.

The fauna of Letea forest is also rich, about 70% of the Danube Delta fauna can be found here: is the nesting site of over 150 species of birds such as the white-tailed eagle (Haliaeetus albicilla), short-toed snake eagle (Circaetus gallicus), tawny eagle (Aquila rapax), black kite (Milvus migrans), herpetological rarities such as the steppe racer (Eremias arguta), or meadow viper (Vipera renardi).

 

The forest is famous for its “wild horses” that are actually released by locals and become broncos (semi-feral horses). Approximately 2,000 broncos are found in the forest, unfortunately causing serious damage to the local biosphere. The capture and transportation of these horses is an unsolved problem.You can find a detailed descriptions of the species from Danube Delta here.

 

Access: we arrive to Letea from Tulcea by navigating on the Sulina branch, then the Magearu canal. Transport through the forest can be done with dray. Locals make available tractors for transportation, but keep in mind that tractors disturb the flora and fauna of the forest. Even outside the forest, we are passing by many canals and we can see nesting birds!

Where the Jewels Are.

 

A Prequel to

“An Odyssey Less Taken “ (Tallie)

  

An Escapade in 3 Acts…

 

Excerpts:

 

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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

 

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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

 

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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 narration above is from a play with its roots Derived from a story based on fact.

 

Do to the rather extensive connections of the Families involved: an official report was never released to the public.

 

The case was finally Closed without being resolved to the victims,

 

Apparently the job was perfectly planned and executed by professionals , probably with inside information from never discovered sources.

 

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Please consider leaving a comment behind that you have (read) the acts. It would be deeply appreciated.

  

Courtesy of Chatwick University Archives

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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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Another group of villains, this time of the "Weird Guys Wearing Expensive Suits" variety.

From left:

 

Sterling T. Silversmith - Terrence Sterling was first investigated by the Bat Family on account of his silver smuggling (for which he used his Gotham antiques business as a front). This was merely to fund his true intentions - a scheme to crash the digital economy and destroy the value of fiat currency.

 

The Eraser - Aspiring forensic scientist Lenny Fiasco flunked out of the Academy and instead wound up working for the GCPD in a different capacity, as a crime scene cleaner. He began offering his services and insider knowledge to the underworld, mopping up after some of Gotham's messier criminals and culminating in his own bumbling foray into assassination.

 

Gentleman Ghost - In 1979, a GCPD raid killed pimp and money launderer Jim "The Gentleman" Craddock. For reasons known perhaps only to those with a connection to the arcane, Craddock's spirit never left the earthly realm and returned sporadically to seek vengeance on the GCPD. His continued existence remained an urban legend and his crimes themselves unsolved, until Batman (with the assistance of Hawkman and Hawkgirl) found a means to banish him.

 

Mad Hatter - Jervis Tetch was a prominent neuroscientist prior to his mental breakdown, which some Arkham doctors have partially blamed on his experiments with mind control and remote viewing. Insane, deluded, and obsessed with the works of Lewis Carroll, Tetch would use his technology to hypnotize citizens and make them take part in his psychedelic tea parties.

 

Great White Shark - Warren White was a financial analyst at a Gotham investment firm. Caught embezzling millions from the company's pension fund, White incredulously pled insanity to avoid a long stint in Blackgate. Hated by the public more than any costumed criminal, the judge humored his plea with a twist: an indefinite incarceration at the Arkham Institute. The other patients did not take kindly to the presence of their "new fish", disfiguring his face and slowly driving him truly insane. As the Great White Shark, Warren eventually escaped from Arkham and began to work his way up the ladder of organised crime.

 

Mr. Combustible - A humanoid entity seemingly composed of gas, Mr. Combustible (real name unknown) was a prospective member of The Penguin's gang during his war with Black Mask's False Face Syndicate. There was only room for one top-hatted criminal in Cobblepot's crew, and his time in the Iceberg Lounge proved to be short-lived - with Mr. Combustible himself proving combustible indeed.

Theme Borrowed from the mystery novel:

Tread softly into the Darkness.

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

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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…..

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“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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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..

 

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

 

The Monarch is probably the most well-known and beloved of North American butterflies. Its wings when open feature an easily recognizable orange and black pattern, with a wingspan of 3.3 - 4.9 inches (8.5 - 12.5 cm) . The females have darker and thicker veins on their wings while the males have a spot in the center of each hindwing from which pheromones are released, and which also helps to easily distinguish them from females.

 

In North America, the Monarch ranges from southern Canada to northern South America. It rarely strays to western Europe (sometimes as far as Greece) from being transported by U. S. ships or by flying there if weather and wind conditions are right. It has also been found in Bermuda, Hawaii, the Solomons, New Caledonia, New Zealand, Australia, New Guinea, Ceylon, India, the Azores, and the Canary Islands.

 

Monarchs are especially noted for their lengthy annual migration. In North America they make massive southward migrations starting in August until the first frost. A northward migration takes place in the spring. The Monarch is the only butterfly that migrates BOTH north and south as birds do on a regular basis. But no single individual makes the entire round trip. Female monarchs deposit eggs for the next generation to complete the journey during these migrations. How the offspring know where to go remains one of nature's unsolved mysteries.

 

In eastern North American the Monarch population begins the southward migration late summer - early autumn and can cover thousands of mile from the United States and southern Canada to Mexico. The western North American population, west of the Rocky Mountains, most often migrates to sites in California, but have been found overwintering in Mexico.

 

Besides Mexico and California, overwintering populations of Monarchs are also found along the Gulf Coast, year-round in Florida, and in Arizona where the habitat provides the specific conditions necessary for their survival. The overwintering habitat typically provides access to streams, plenty of sunlight (for body temperatures that allows flight), appropriate vegetation on which to roost, and is relatively free of predators. Overwintering, roosting butterflies have been seen on sumacs, locusts, basswood elm, oak, osage orange, mulberry, pecan, willow, cottonwood, and mesquite.

 

ISO800, aperture f/11, exposure .003 seconds (1/400) focal length 300mm

 

Turn of a Friendly Card

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Based on a true adventures of a rogue active in the waning years of the 1930’s as discovered in the criminal archives of Chatwick University.

 

Act 1

I begin my tale in the present…

 

That afternoon a soiree was given as part of the purchase price of the tickets for the annual Autumn Charity Ball to be presented later that evening at the manor’s great house. Since I was alone, I just went mainly for the free food and to rub my elbows with the wealthy guests who would be in happy attendance there, and at the Ball. I was alone, but certainly not bored. There was a game I enjoyed playing to pass the time at these affairs that entailed scoping out by their dress and day jewels worn, those ladies whom would be most likely to be wearing the better costumes and sparklers that evening. It often proved to be a most beneficial insight into the actions and mannerisms of the very rich. I walked amongst the cheerful guests, eying one here ( a lady in satin and pearls) and another there( a high spirited girl with a diamond pin at the throat of her frilly silken blouse). It was as I was passing the latter that the friend she had been talking too (dressed like a vamp), bumped up against me. I caught her, steadying her as they both giggled. I didn’t mind, for the lassie’s too tight satin sheath tea dress had been an enticement to hold, and the gold bracelet that had been dangling from her gloved wrist had been a pleasure to observe. I kissed her gloved hand, rings glittering, as I apologized gallantly for my clumsiness. Her eyes were bright, almost as bright as the twin necklaces of gold that hung swaying down pleasantly from between her ample bosom. I left them, moving on to greener pastures, and it was very green, all of it….

 

It was then that I detected another pretty lassie. It was her long fiery red hair with falling wispy curls that first captured my attention. She was wearing a fetchingly smart white chiffon party dress that commanded me to acquire a closer examination. She appeared to be a blithe spirit, seemingly content with just being by herself and roaming about with casual elegance, the extensive grounds of the manor proper. I began to discreetly follow her at a distance. Although she did not wear any jewelry, her manner and the eloquent way she moved is what attracted me the most. It would be very interesting to seek her out later that evening and she what she would have chosen to decorate herself with. I followed her as she sojourned into the depths of a traditional English garden with a maze of lushly green trimmed 8 foot high hedges

 

As I strolled through the hedgerows in her wake I allowed my mind to wander its own course. Suddenly I straightened up, my reverie broken by an epiphany of sorts. I allowed myself to grin and the lady whose enchantment I was swollen up in, at that moment turned, and seeing my beaming smile assumed it was for her and gave me a rather cute nod of her head. I answered in same, as I headed en route to a nearby stone garden bench to allow my thoughts to think through themselves.

 

But before I go on, allow me the pleasure to sojourn and reminisce about an incident that occurred several years prior:

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I was still working unaided in those days, travelling on to a new next quest that would take me just outside of Surrey.

I had just purchased my train ticket and had seen my luggage safe on board when I decided to rest in the lounge, it being some 45 minutes before allowed to enter personally aboard. Being so early the lounge was almost deserted, only one other occupant. I assumed she was waiting for someone on an incoming train due to the fact she carried no luggage. She was obviously well off, well dressed in satins and lace, and her jewels shone magnificently in the dim lights. Especially one of her rings, noticeably lying loosely around a finger, it sparkled with an expensive brilliance. I had seen one like it in a tiffanies store, worth almost 250 pounds. But she did not appreciate the show her jewelry was putting on under the lounge lights, for she was fast asleep.

 

I circled around her, aiming for a seat next to her, eyeing her and her possessions carefully. I noticed her purse had fallen off her lap and lay on the floor. An idea popped into my head, and I picked the purse up, and looked around carefully, before placing my plan into action. But I was thwarted as an older, matronly lady was spotted heading our way. I slipped the purse into my jacket and moved off before I was noticed. Of course she came in and took the empty seat across form the sleeping princess, and soon busied herself with knitting. As the older lady had sat down, not quietly, the wealthy lady stirred waking up at the noise. I went into a corner and sat, waiting. The two ladies soon fell into conversation; the minute’s ticked by excruciatingly slow. Soon I noticed we even had more company.

He was a lad of only fourteen, but with a devilish look about him that marked him a kindred spirit to meself, and his quick eyes were darting about taking it all in as he stood outside the paned glass window.

 

It was as the first announcement of boarding the train that I saw a chance for opportunity to strike.

The older lady folded up her knitting and clinching her bag, bid adieu to her new friend,( befuddled a little by the old ladies constant stream of gossip), and headed to the train. I was twenty steps ahead of her and was standing behind the youth as she left the lounge. I tapped him on the shoulder; he looked around at me suspiciously, and then caught sight of the shilling I was holding in front of his nose. I quickly whispered a few words into his ear on how he could earn it, and his grin spread as he bought into my story. I still held onto the shilling as he darted around and inside the lounge. I watched as he ran up behind the lady, circling her, then running in front of her he tripped over her leg, as she helped him up, her hand with the ring reaching down, he turned and spat onto the wrist and sleeve of that hand, than standing he ran away. Running alongside me, I handed him the shilling in passing as he ran off, disappearing in to the street.

 

I went inside and approached the astonished lady, as she was looking for her purse to get a handkerchief, confused as to its absence, while she held up her soiled hand( ring glittering furiously) in utter disbelief. I approached, catching her attention by the soothing words I uttered to her. I took her hand, unbelieving with her at just had happened, and I as I apologized for the youth of today I produced my own silk handkerchief and starting with her silky sleeve, began to wipe it off, continuing my tirade of displeasure and contempt at what had just occurred to the dear lady as I did so. As I finishing wiping her down, ending with her warm slender fingers, I kissed them, just as the last boarding announcement came over (perfect timing!) I let her go, explaining that I must catch my train. I turned and without looking back made the train just as it was letting off steam before chugging off.

 

I gained my private carriage just as the train began to lurch away. It wasn’t until after the train began its journey that I casually removed my silk handkerchief from my pocket and unwrapped it carefully, admiring up close the shimmering, valuable tiffany ring that was lying inside. I pocketed it, and then remembered the purse. I took it out and examined its contents: coin and notes equaling a handsome amount, a gold (gilded) case, embroidered lacy handkerchief, small silver flask of perfume, and ( of all things)a large shimmering prism , like one that would have dangled from a fancy crystal chandelier. A prism?, I questioned with interest as I examined it. It was pretty thing, about the circumference of a cricket ball, but shaped like a pendulum, it shimmered and glittered like the most precious of jewels. Why she had it in her purse? I couldn’t guess, and I saw no value in it, so I pocketed it and allowed it to leave my mind.

 

As I settled into my seat I began to think of the lad I had just met, I had been right on the money as far as his eagerness for mischief. Actually he reminded me of myself at that age, and I wondered if that lad with the shifty eyes would also turn out to follow the same course I had explored.

 

Which Begs the question, what had I turned out to become. And since I’m still reminiscing

I’ll give little background material about me, hopefully I don’t come across as being too conceited about my self-taught skills..

 

I had never been one to take the hard road, and even at a young age I was always looking for angles, or short cuts to make some money.

Once, while watching for some time a street magician and his acts. I observed a pick pocket working the crowd. He approached a pair of well-dressed ladies in shiny clothes, and standing behind them bided his time and then lifted a small pouch from one velvet purse, and a fat wallet from a silken one, then he moved on. Now both ladies were wearing shiny bracelets, one with jewels. I thought that he could have realized a greater profit if he had nicked one or both of the bracelets first, than try for the contents of their purses. The bracelets’ alone would have realized a far greater profit than what he lifted from their purses. It further occurred to me that by mimicking some of the sleight of hand tricks and misdirection that the magician was using on his audience, it could be accomplished. A hand placed on the right shoulder and as the lady turned right, whisk off the bracelet from her left wrist, and excuse oneself, that sort of thing.

 

So, I practiced (on my sisters, who proved to be willing accomplices to “my game”) and learned to pick their purses and pockets. I than moved onto their jewelry, starting by lifting bracelets and slipping away rings, before advancing to the brooches, necklaces and earrings they were wearing. After I was satisfied at my skill level, I went out and worked the streets. Sometimes using my one sister who was also hooked on what I was doing as a willing partner.

But I found myself still not being satisfied, in the back of my mind I thought there had to be a more lucrative way to turn a profit.

 

I’d found my answer when an attractive lady in a rustling satin gown zeroed in on me while I was “visiting” a ballroom. She was jeweled like a princess right up to the diamond band she wore holding up her piles of soft locks like a glimmering crown. The more she drank, the closer she got and I decided that her necklace would definitely help pay my expenses more than the contents of her purse (although I had already lifted the fat wallet from her small purse), and I did have very expensive tastes to pay for. So I took her onto the dance floor.

 

I was amazed at how easily I had been able to open the necklace’s clasp , slipping it over her satiny shoulder, lifting it off and placing it safely in my pocket with almost no effort. Then she decided to be playful once the song ended and brushed up against me. She felt the necklace in my pocket and before I could act she had her hand in and pulled it out.

 

The silly naive twit thought I was teasing her and told me that for my penance I had to go up to her suite in order to put it back on for her. I kept up the charade as best as I could.

 

And that’s where we ended up. A little bit of light fondling began as I placed the necklace back around her throat. I began to tease her, plied her with more and more alcohol as I tried to keep my distance, and virginity. Finally she passed out in a drunken stupor, but not before I had learned where she hid her valuables by suggesting she should lock her jewels up for the night..

 

With her safely unconscious, I began to strip her clean off all her jewels, reclaiming the necklace first. Then I visited all her jewelry casket and began looting it. I even took her small rhinestone clutch with the diamond clasp; of course I already had liberated its small wallet.

 

When I’d left her lying happily asleep in bed, still in her satin gown( the only item left to her that shined), I knew I had found a much more profitable line of “work”

 

So I began making circuits around to the haunts of the very rich, I still kept may hand in pickpocketing, so to speak, but centered only on those “pockets” containing mainly jewelry. I also began to carefully explore new ways of acquiring jewels” in masse”, so to speak.

 

Soon I had accumulated many tricks and tools, having them at my disposal to put into action once required, and for the remaining years up till the present had managed to live quite comfortably off of the ill-gotten gains using them allowed me to acquire.

 

Which brings me back to the train ride, my prism, and the rest of my background story before I retun to the present tale. Please be patient.

*****

So, anyway, I reached Surry without any further incident and disembarking, made my way out to the large country house where I would be staying to take a short rest, vacation if you will. But, pardon the play on words, for there is never any rest for the wicked, is there?

 

I had become acquainted with a servant of the old mansion ( almost a small castle, really) , that was about a mile off. I managed to learn a great deal, and soon found myself, on the pretense of visiting her, exploring the grounds. There was to be a grand ball taking place a couple of weekends away , and the maid had filled my ears with the riches that would be displayed by the multitude of regal ladies making an appearance. I began to think about trying to make a little bit of profit from my vacation. I am not sure how the idea developed, but the prism that I still had in my possession, came up centrally into my plans.

 

Late on the evening of the regal affair, I snuck over, covered head to toe in black, with my small satchel off tools by my side. I set up a candle behind an old stone ivy covered wall in a far corner of the rather large and intricate English garden that surrounded the inner circle around the mansion. I than strung the jewel-like prism in front of it. Standing behind the wall, I would strike the prism with a long stick I was holding whenever I observed sparkles emanating from silkily gowned ladies walking in the distance, solitary or in pairs. The prism would flash fire, sort of like a showy lure being used when fishing in a crooked trout stream. Only I was fishing for far sweeter game than trout. My objective was to trick certain types of jeweled ladies (scatterbrains some may call them) by luring them down onto the path beyond the wall, using their natural curiosity to my advantage.

 

I had at least two strikes rise up to my lure in the second hour.

On was a pretty lady in flowing green satin number, decorated with plenty of emeralds, which, hidden in the shadows, I observed were probably paste. I let her wonder about; as she looked and played with the shiny toy, remaining hidden until she grew bored and wandered off.

The second was a slender maiden wearing a long sleek black gown with long ivory silk gloves. I had never before seen a lady so decked out in jewels, literally head to toe. With the exception of the rhinestones adorning her heels, the rest of the lot was real, so valuably real that I could feel my mouth salivating at the thoughts of acquiring her riches. Now in Edwardian times only older, married ladies would be allowed the privilege of wearing a diamond Tiara. But in these modern times, it had become culturally acceptable for any well-to do lady, single or otherwise, to wear one out in society. Even so, they were still rarely worn, and seldom seen outside the safety of large gatherings. But there it was, a small, delicately slender piece of intricate art that glistened from the top of her head like some elegant beacon. That piece alone was probably worth more than I had made all the last four months combined!

I began to skirt around in the shadows, placing myself in position to cut off her retreat. Her diamonds blazed as she approached, eyeing the swinging prism with total concentration. Which was unfortunate, because as I was about to leave the shadows, she walked into the thorns of a rose bush, screeching out, and attracting the notice of a pair of gentlemen who had just crossed the path quite a ways off, called out when they heard the commotion. She started to become chatty with them, obviously coming on to her rescuers, my prism all but forgotten. Than before I knew it, in a swishing of her long gown, she was gone, “swimming” off before I was able to set me ”hook”.

 

Which I was able to do on the third strike, almost an hour later, just as I was beginning to ponder wither I should call it off and head back home..

 

They were a pair of young damsels in their young twenties. They may have been sisters, or cousins at the least. I still remember how my heart leapt into my throat as they observed my colourful prism and turned down the old flagstone path. I had not seen anyone out and about for some time, so I knew they would be no would be rescuers around to come to their aid

And, best of all, they were both dressed for the kill!

One, the blonde, was clad in a black velvet number that one could cannily describe as quite form fitting. As were the small ropes of pearls that hung from all points of interest, pretty with a matching pricelessness.

But her cousin, as I will refer to her, out shone black velvet quite literally.

This one, a stunning raven haired beauty, wore a long streaming gown of liquid ivory satin. A diamond brooch sparkled as it held up a fold of the gown to her waist. The fold allowed her to show a rather daring amount of a slender bare calf. The brooch was not paste, but a real jewel that had been added for the nights festivities ( To be successful, one learns to read these signs accurately) Her ears and neckline were home to a matching set of pure white diamonds. A wide diamond bracelet graced a bare right wrist ,so she must be left handed I instinctively thought, an observation that would have aided me if I were planning on having a go for slipping the bracelet from her wrist, but tonight I was planning a much more daring attempt to empty the entire jewel casket, so to speak.

 

They went to the prism, playing with it a bit, I had begun to circle around, when I noticed black velvet pointing out with multiple ringed fingers, to something further down the path past the wall.

 

With a clicking of heels I let the pair pass, they apparently wanted to see what was on the other side of the wall. I followed; it was not hard, because the necklace the raven haired one wore, diamonds fully encircling her throat, rippled and sparkled from their perch, caught in the full harvest moon’s cast, giving me more than enough light to shadow them quietly .

 

After a while they caught on that something/someone was following them, but as they turned they could see nothing. I was in black, and hooded, invisible to them in the shadows of the trees. They whispered amongst themselves, now worried, realizing that there were dangers lurking beyond the pale, in their case, the safety of the gardens , especially for ones decked out as they were. They then turned and headed right back from where they had come, right into my waiting arms.

 

It is interesting what good breeding does for young, poised ladies. For, as I stepped out of the shadows, a finger of my right hand to my lips, my Fairborn in my left hand, its black blade glinting wickedly in the moonlight , they did not scream out or shout for help. Instead the pair merely let out small gasps, and then they both, in a quite charming synchronized display of disbelief, place each one hand over their open mouths, and the other upon their perspective necklaces.

 

And as I flourished my wicked looking Fairbairn–Sykes blade in their direction, they unquestioningly reached around and undid those pretty necklaces, tremblingly handing them out to me, like actresses following a well-read script. I took the little pretties and after stuffing them into my satchel, held out again my free hand, my fingers beckoning. Not a word was spoken between us, as the frightened pair of young ladies began removing their shimmering jewels and added them in a neat little growing pile along my open palm. The raven haired girl even undid her brooch without me having to command her to do so. Once I had stashed it all away, I motioned for them to turn back around, than with a little helpful prodding on my part, they began moving forward back down the hill, away from the garden. The one in white hobbling a little now as she kept tripping over the hem of her dress, now no longer held up by the stolen brooch.

 

After we had traveled about 200 meters I had them stop, and take off their high heels. Then picking the pretty things up, I motioned them to turn back around and made them walk back the way we had come in their bare feet, watching the pair awkwardly hobble barefooted down the wooded path. They would be quite a while on their journey back, allowing me more than ample time to make me escape. I threw their shoes off to the side and went briskly the other way, reaching the place was staying at , gaining my room without notice. But not before I had hidden the jewels inside an old stump to retrieve them at a later date. I never really heard so much as a whisper of the incident, other than from the pretty lips of my friendly maiden. The wee hours of the morning before my early departure for the train station found me revisiting the stump and retrieving my satchel and its precious cargo. After hiding it all in a false bottom of my case I laid my head on the pillow and drifted off to sleep as I wondered what had happened to the little prism, marveling at how useful it had ended up proving to be.

 

So, how does this story (journey rather) relate to the one I had already started? Please read on, and enrich your curiosity… my dear readers.

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Act 2

 

So, with apologies for my lengthy elucidation, but I now return you back to the garden party I was now attending on that warm fall day. But, as you will see, my prism story needed to be told in order to add a bit of flavor to what was about to unfold.

 

As I sat on the garden bench I formulated my plans. I should be able to acquire the main piece tonight at the Ball, I would have time this afternoon to retrieve my ever handy satchel and its array of tools and have it hidden at the spot I had already selected. It was perfect, located at the end of the path I had found, or rather the charming lady in the smart chiffon dress had found for me. A gas lamp would provide adequate light for my “lure”, and it led to a back wood where I could lead any victims away and liberate them of their valuables before making my escape. I rose, just enough time to walk my escape route, before setting up and then be dressed for the evening’s festivities. I looked around, I was alone now, my lady in white had disappeared, following her own course, whatever it may have been.

 

The Autumn Ball that evening was in full swing by the time I arrived. Being a cool fall day, most of the women were wearing long gowns and dresses, and that, for whatever the reason, usually meant they were decked out with more layers of jewelry than say , if it had been the middle of summer. In order to put my plan in action I need and intrinsic piece of the trap, a prism. The one I had once had was long ago lost, a minor pawn in a game to take a pair of princesses.

 

I knew exactly the type of prism required for my plan, and so began mingling amongst the guests with that in mind.

 

I started out by walking through to the chamber like ballroom where a full orchestra was starting to play. The first person I saw from the garden party was the little tramp who had been wearing the too tight satin tea dress. That dress had been replaced with a long silky gown, her gold jewelry replaced with emeralds; including a thin bracelet that had taken the place of the gold one that she had so obligingly dangled in my larcenous path. I decided to avoid her In principle, and in doing so spied someone quite interesting.

 

That someone was a pretty lady in a long velvet gown standing off to one side, idly watching the many dancers out on the floor. The dancing couples were forming an imagery of a rainbow coloured sea of slinky swirling gowns and with erupting fireworks of sparkling jewels, ignited by pair of immensely large chandeliers that hung over the dance floor, setting them off. I made my way, skirting the dance floor to reach her, my eyes on her jewels, which were making pretty fireworks of their own. I happened to walk up just as a waiter with a tray of drinks was passing by. Plucking off a drink I offered it to the lady with one hand, my other hand placed on her back as If to steady myself. She laughed prettily, and taking the drink I met her eyes, as she was focused on reaching and holding the glass in her slippery gloved hand, mine was on the ruby and diamond necklace. My hand behind her had flicked open the simple hook and eye clasp of the antique piece and was in the process of lifting it up and whisking it away from her throat. As I said a few words to her, I pocketed it, while also taking in the rest of her lovely figure and its shiny decorations, before biding adieu. She smiled, her pale bare neckline now quite glaringly extinguished of its fire.

 

It was about an hour later, after spotting, but unable to make inroads with several likely candidates, that I finally struck gold (figuratively). It came in the form of a young couple arguing between themselves in a far corner of the chamber. She was lecturing a rather handsome man in a tux, her jeweled fingers flying in his face. If she hadn’t been moving about in such an animated fashion as she lectured, I may not have even noticed her. But as it happened I did, especially noticeable was the sanctimonious lady’s wide jeweled bracelet that was bursting out in a rainbow of colorful flickers as her hand was emphatically waving, as her long gown of silk swished around with every movement she made. Perfect. I watched for a bit, and sure enough they moved off, the man heading for the patio leading outside, the wealthy girl following him, still giving him lashes with her tongue. I moved and managed to have her bump into me simply by stepping on the hemline of her long gown. For a few seconds I was the one on the receiving end of her wrath, but I took it like a man, I could see in the eyes of her tongue lashed husband, that he was grateful for the respite. I was also grateful; grateful for the quite wide, very shimmering, bracelet that I had removed from her wrist and now was residing in my pocket.

 

I began to leave the patio, but was stopped by a matronly lady in ruffles, laces and pearls, her breath heavy with alcohol. She started to question me on what the couple had been on about. Then without waiting for an answer she launched herself into a tirade of her own, her gem encrusted, silken gloved fingers, waving in my face for emphasis. It was almost ten minutes before I was able to make my escape. Which I did, but not before slipping off one of the lecturing ladies vulgarly large cocktail rings.

 

I headed onto the patio; the time was getting ripe for my plan, which I was now ready to put into motion, now having acquired its most essential piece. I went to the end of the large patio, weaving in and out of the by now well liquored guests whom had assembled there. Across the way I saw a lady tripping over her own gown. By the time I reached her she had fallen down, giggling merrily. Two of us rushed to her aid, she was busy gushed her thanks to the rescuer she knew, while ignoring the one she didn’t! Which was unfortunate on her part, for by ignoring me, she also was ignorant of the fact that I was busy lifting the small stands of black pearls from her wrist. I left unnoticed, much like a shadow fading out of the light, or at least that’s how it seemed. Finally I reached the patios outer edge without further incident, or gain. I went on the grass and turned a corner with the intention of going, post haste around the house to reach the gardens by the long way, hoping not to be seen by anyone. But I no sooner turned the corner, when I realized that it was not to be the case.

 

It was my blithe spirit in white chiffon from the garden party, pardon me, soiree. She was unescorted, looking up at the moon above a stone turret with one lit window, so intently that my presence had not been noticed. I had been absolutely correct in my observation of her as far as what she would be wearing for the evening. For what she had lacked in ornaments at the soiree, she had more than made up for in the evening festivities. She was absolutely gorgeous, resplendent in as beautiful a silvery satin gown that I had ever witness. It was just pouring down, shimmering along her delightful figure. Her long blazing red hair was still curling down and free, but now a pair of long chandelier earrings cascading down from her earlobes, were peeking out every now and then as they swayed with her every movement. Her blazingly rippling necklace was all diamonds, dripping down the front of her tightly satin covered bosom, twinkling iridescently like an intensively glimmering waterfall. Her slender gloved wrists were home to a pair of dangling diamond bracelets that were almost outshone by her many glistening rings. All in all she was quite a lure all too herself

 

I came up to her, starling her from her reverie. Taking up her hand, I looked into her startled, suddenly blushing face. I complimented her on the fine gown she wore. She thanked me, and I could see I that she suddenly remembered she me as the chap who she thought smiled to her in the garden. She seemed to accept my compliment quite readily. I chanced it( although Lord knows I was short on time) and asked her to a dance. I did not think she would agree, so it was with a little bit of surprise, hoping she would politely decline and walk off, leaving me free to go about my business unobserved. But she accepted, and I will admit that my heart leapt as she agreed (although in the back of my mind I knew I should be off if my plan was to work). The music had stopped so we made small talk as we slowly walked back to the ballroom. Her name was Katrina. It seems she was waiting for someone, which suited my plans, but he was late and so she had time. Which may have sounded dismissive, but from the apologetic way she said it, it was anything but the sort.

 

The orchestra started to tune back up as we entered, and taking her offered hand up, was soon lost in the elegance of my appealing partner. It was a long dance, and a formal one, but I could tell she was subtly anxious to be off on her meeting, as I was to be off to my own adventure. But Katrina did not really allow it to show, which was very uncharacteristic of her someone with her obvious breeding. So I was ready when the by the end of the music she begged her condolences and took flight. I watched her as she fluidly moved away, her jewels sparkling, all of them. On her mission to meet Mr. X I thought, for whom I was already harboring a quite jealous dislike. I should be off I thought to meself.

 

But I stood, still as stone; totally mesmerized by the way Katrina’s swirling silvery satin gown was playing out along her petite, jewel sparkling figure. It wasn’t till the last of her gown swished around a corner out of sight that I moved, but not without having to shake my head to clear the thoughts of her out of it. Well old son, focus. For by now the guests were starting to wander a bit afield in the waning hours of the Autumn Ball, and my small window of opportunity was closing fast. If my little plan was going to have any chance of success it would have to be now.

 

I walked out and made my way to one of the outside exist of the garden wall. Reaching into my pocket as I did so, fingering the bracelet, now cold, that had belonged to the quarrelsome lady,and soon would be playing another role, far from one its former mistress would ever have dreamed off. I also felt my new acquisition, still warm from my dance partner’s body. I will admit that I had felt a twinge of regret for taking it from a lady I had found to be most charmingly captivating. But slipping off the diamonds up and away from her throat had been as temptingly easy as it had been automatic. I had advantageously made use of the sleekness of her scintillatingly silky gown, and with the distractions created by the movements of the dance, successfully managed to keep Katrina’s attention safely diverted from the reality of why my fingers were ever so gently, caressingly sliding along her slippery gowns neckline. The truth was I had originally placed my hand there because it had felt so right, and I was a little startled when my fingers had subconsciously started playing with her necklaces clasp. Before I knew it, they had flicked open the gemstone clasp of her obviously expensive diamond necklace, and had lifted up. As I watched out of the corner of my eye, almost like I was a spectator, as opposed to being the perpetrator, I saw the chain move up and over her shoulder; its diamonds sparkling with is as the necklace disappeared from view behind her back.

It was a favored technique that I had perfected to the point that by this stage of my career I nearly always acquired my objective. But, as odd as it sounds, I was not happy with myself on this occasion.

 

But I did not long dwell on my mixed feelings on taking the charming lass’s diamonds, for by now I had reached my place of ambush. It was in one of the farthest reaches of the garden, at a bend on the end of a long path that, with a gas lamp at its beginning just off the patio, would allow me to see from some distance off. Behind me was a break in the hedge wide enough for a person to walk through comfortably. It was here, off a tree limb, underneath a second ornate cast iron gas lamp, which was now lit, that I hung the shimmering bracelet that I had sought out and acquired for just that reason

 

I walked around and saw that it could be seen flickered off in the distance from the woods, Perfect! Earlier I had hidden my satchel with a hood and knife and bit of rope in the hollow of an old tree. I now retrieved them, and after getting ready, found my position and waited. At 10 minutes past the first hour of my wait, with nary a single glimpse of anyone, I started to fidget. My corner may be just a bit too desolated I was beginning to admit to myself. It seemed that most of the guests were staying by the patio. I was starting to think that I should pack it in, possibly rejoining the guests for one last parting( of someone from her Jewelry). I was just reaching down to pick up my satchel when I suddenly saw something flash under the gas lamp at the beginning of the path, and my senses immediately perked up. I watched as the wisps of rich shimmery satin moved closer, I stiffened, drooling with anticipation, the game was afoot.

  

I could see clearly the flickering jewels she wore, and by their blazing sparkles of rippling fire, I knew that my long vigil would not have been in vain. As the lady drew I recognized her gown of silvery satin! I knew who was making those tantalizing flashes of appealing treasures. Katrina!

 

I watched as she approached, in all her glittering elegance. My heart and conscious was in turmoil, but I knew I probably would not get a second chance. I could not let her get away unscathed. Beside, from the shock of being confronted with a masked scoundrel wielding a wicked blade, she would be in no shape to recognize her assailant. She stopped, apprehensively looking back towards the bright lights of the Manor, Then turning back I saw she had a self-satisfied smile creeping upon her face. She reached up, and undoing her hair, shook it down, curls of softness cascading down, hanging loosely down. It was as she performed this provocative act, that I saw her eyes open wide in curiosity; she had spied my pretty little “prism”. The charming fish was hooked.

 

I waited, watching her approaching ever closer to fate, and from my concealment, I basked in her glow. My heart beating fast, my adrenaline pumping, for the remaining jewels (I thought of her necklace in my custody) that she possessed I already had witnessed were quite valuable. She passed my hiding spot and went to the hanging, shimmering object. As she reached up, looking around, she failed to see me approaching in the shadows. I came up from behind, jabbing a finger in her back as I reached her, I gruffly in no uncertain terms, snarled for her to freeze and make no sound. She stiffened under my touch, but made no move or outcry. I went around; pointing my knife in her direction, looking into her sad doe wide eyes as she realized what was going to happen next. She was trembling; from fear I guessed, and knew I had her right where I wanted. As I made my demands upon her, gimme them jewels sister, she, not surprisingly, was very compliant in giving them up to me. She reached for her necklace last, and looked entirely shocked to find her throat bare, as she searched the neckline of her gown I saw her look into my hand, now dripping with her precious jewelry, almost as if to see if she had not already removed it. She looked apologetically into my eyes, startled; almost pleading that she didn’t know what had happened to it. I just played dump. She than spoke for the first time, sir, may I ask to keep my purse? Her words would have instantly melted even the coldest chunk of ice, I looked down at the little silvery clutch hanging from her arm on its rhinestone chain, I nodded, indicating that she could, and saw relief wash over her face. I told her she now needed to turn around and walk off into the woods ahead of me. She hesitated, and I told her no harm would befall her, I had no intentions along those lines.

 

About 5 meters in I stopped her, and had her remove her shoes, as she bent over to undo the high heels rhinestone clasps I watched her gown tightly outlining her figure. She tripped on the hem of her gown, and as she attempted to keep her balance, accidently let her purse slip off her shoulder. Without thinking I reached down to pick it up for her as she tried reached for it simultaneously

 

The small purse was far heavier than it should have been. Curious I opened it, finding that it contained a rather extensive array of mismatched jewelry, glittering in unbelievably expensive fire . I looked into Katrina’s horror struck eyes dumb founded, as she looked guiltily into mine. The gig was up. The jewels belonged to the lady of the manor, my muse in silver was a thief, a female version of me very self.

 

Aye, what’s this than luv? I questioned her as she looked into my eyes, hers large with a mixture of fright and disbelief. She melted before me, fainting, I caught her in my arms, and it was no ruse. I held her as she came to, holding her warm, silky figure lovingly to mine. I did not know what to think. Nor could I ever explain what possessed me to do what I did next. As she came to, her eyes opened, and I removed my mask, looking back into them deeply.

 

Oh, she gasped, I’m glad it was you, startled that she had said the words out loud. She than started to coyly blushes, quite demurely. Something sparked in me, and unless she was an incredibly good actress, it did also for Katrina. Our eyes both looked into the others, melting away in the lust of the moment. We embraced, deeply, and I held her squirming warm slick figure tight in my enveloping arms. I looked over her shoulder, eyeing the glistening bracelet hanging from its branch. To catch a thief, the thought suddenly opened in my mind, what a great title for a novel I thought to myself, as I buried my nose into Katrina’s luxuriously soft hair.

 

We talked for a bit, walking off into the woods, then she looked into my eyes again, a coy, look that melted me on the spot, and that was the end of it, we embraced again, and wholly gave ourselves to one another. What about your man I asked suddenly remembering, my man she questioned , than oh, you mean the Lord, I was waiting for him to come down from smoking in his tower study, that’s where the lady’s jewels are kept. She broke into an Irish brogue as she said the last bit, and that I guessed was her natural tongue. she laid a hand on the side of my face, thanks for being jealous though, me lad.

I should collect my lure I said, which made her smile; it was such an enticing smile at that. We started to head back and watched as it dangled in front of us flickering. With a far off look in her green eyes, Katrina spoke as if in deep though.

 

The daughter of the house, she has a bracelet on like the one you have dangling, a bracelet of diamonds that I had taken a fancy to, wishing it had been in the safe along with the rest of the ladies of manors jewelry. I knew who she was talking about. The one in green taffeta I asked? Aye lad, that’s the one. Actually her necklace would be just as easy, and worth more I said. Just then her bright green eyes gleamed, Give me about a half an hour, she told me, we will put your little lure to use again. She noticed my hesitation, don’t worry luv she said soothingly placing a gloved hand to my cheek, no longer was it sparkly with its stolen bracelet and rings. I’ll leave my purse with you, can’t very well be carrying it around now can I? I nodded my consent, my mind burning with the thoughts she had alluringly placed there.

  

She turned, and then hesitated; turning back she said I probably should not go back in naked luv. I smiled, reaching in I pulled out her necklace and placed it around her throat. With a little gasp she blurted, so it was you, I was wondering who and when it had happened. It’s not the first time I’ve had me jewels lifted, but it’s a bloody annoyance to have to let them get away with it, crawls under my skin to have pretend not to notice so that I don’t draw any attention to me self before making my move to steal the posh ones jewels.

 

But you, mister, I never felt as much as a prickling. I was ready to assume my pretties had been a victim of a broken clasp this time. I gave a little nod in acceptance. That wasn’t exactly a compliment lad, she said in what I hopped was a subtle jest. Just last summer some clumsy bugger slipped of me earrings, my favorite pearls, as we were danc… she stopped, seeing the guilt in my eyes. Men! As thieves you are all of the same skin she spat out angrily, or attempted to sound angry, for the look in her eyes to me she wasn’t. I best be off, before I change me mind about out little endeavor.

 

With that she swirled around on her heels, and started off, but not before turning and giving me an extremely coy look of interest. As she swirled back around I heard her say loud enough for my ears, I’ll learn me self to be a picker of pockets, see how males like to be taken advantage of in their vulnerabilities! She nodded to herself as she said it. Then suddenly she stopped, than twirled on her heels, her gown swirling enticingly along her figure. Looking me dead in the eye she said, “Vie ne est pas d'attendre que la tempête , mais d'apprendre à danser sous la pluie” !

 

What does that mean? I questioned in a low voice, perplexed.

 

Maybe, Mon Cheri, someday I will tell you… And with that she turned on her heel, her gown once again swirling about, and went, determinedly, swishing her way back up the path. I just watched. I had never heard anyone speak French with an Irish Brogue and I had found it to be rather provocative!

 

I watched as she swished and swayed her way back through the hedge and regained the path leading back to the manor. Her plan was simple; she would lead the daughter of the house to my corner and as she had done, go out with her to look at the swinging charm. I would then make my appearance, rob both ladies of their finery, and telling the daughter to wait until I released her friend, walk off with Katrina as a hostage, and we would both take off and make good our escape. A simple plan, so simple it should actually work.

 

So, there I was. Holding a purse with a small fortune in jewels, my pocket full of more jewels worth an additional pretty farthing, and her charms were wearing off by her leaving. And my thieving nature coming back, reawakened from the spell they had been under!

 

The devil of my conscious crept out on my shoulder, the angel markedly absent from the other.

 

Look mate, she may not be all she seems, and possibly has some other game in mind. Maybe she does have a male confidante helping her out… and was actually on her way to fetch him. He said in my inner ear. And, after all, you took her diamonds twice, didn’t ye now? Do you really think shell forgive you of that me lad?

 

And there is no honor amongst thieves, as the saying goes, he added as a closing argument...

 

I rolled it over in my mind…I could leave, absconding with it all, book a cruise to the states or down under where there lay untried fertile grounds to ply my trade. Not to mention working over my fellow passengers aboard the cruise ship while they attended the fancy affairs that were always going on, or so the brochures always seemed to show……

 

Then In the distance I caught a wisp of Katrina’s long silvery gown. She was coming, and not only with the daughter of the manor, but also with a spare. For I could see a purple coloured gown swishing alongside with the prey in rustling green taffeta.. I watched as all three ladies, resplendent with the rippling fiery gems they all possessed, came up the path, gowns sweeping out , shimmery from the now misty distance.

 

The thought of making my escape with all the loot continued to haunt me, there was still time now to take off without notice, or I could rob all three, and leave with purple silk as my hostage, Katrina would not be able to say anything on chance of giving up her part of the game, or I could just be a good lad and sty with the script that Katrina had written. Take a chance, roll the dice and believe that she was all she had me believing she could ever be.

 

As they came closer I knew my time was running out. The thoughts of just looking out for myself kept coming up playing the devil with my conscience as the precious seconds ticked away…

 

No honor amongst thieves…

What will it be, old boy I challenged myself,

What will you have it be?........

To see what his decision ultimately was, and the eventual path it led to, see the album question answered)

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

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

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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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Symmetry

A plot in Motion

As excerpted from

“An Odyssey Less Taken “@

 

Tallie looked into the mirror as the bound Olivia stirred, a self-satisfied smirk lighting up her pretty face. It was time to administer the syringe containing the liquid that would render Olivia unconscious until late the next morning, giving them plenty of time. Olivia would wake thinking she had been the victim of a robbery. She should have no clue that the real reason was a simple piece of paper she had had tucked away inside her gold purse.

 

A couple of hours earlier:

 

Tallie had jogged into the upscale inn’s main lobby wearing a black running suite with her long,hair tucked up under a neoprene running cap. Playing the part of a guest who had gone out for exercise, she was also wearing thin gloves, wide wraparound sunglasses, small backpack and listening to music on her I Phone. She took up station in a corner of the inns’ huge lobby, like she was resting, while listening to her music. Ten minutes later, Olivia, whom Tallie had been shadowing, came in. Olivia had been easy to follow. An eye catching figure clad in a gold silk dress and pearls. She was carrying a shiny gold purse, and holding a bag containing a deep purple satin gown. Olivia had headed straight to the elevator, tapped her floor button and disappeared inside.

 

Tallie spent an uncomfortably anxious 10 minutes deciding what to do. Olivia had not gone to the front desk to take her jewels from the safe. Although her jewelry was not a main part of the plan, Tallie had loftier goals in mind, they did present a rather profitable bonus. Tallie decided to proceed, not wanting to blow the whole operation for a few pretty baubles. She had just risen when the elevator tinged. The doors opened, and Olivia exited into the lobby, still clad in the gold silk, and headed to the desk. There, she had the manager retrieve a black case. Showtime Tallie thought, relieved now that she had waited, watching as Olivia once again left in the elevator. Ten minutes after that, it was time to put the plan in motion. Using her I Phone, Tallie rang Olivia’s room pretending to be a hotel employee. “Someone had found something of yours in the lobby; a manager is on her way up with it.” She hung up not giving Olivia any chance for response.

  

From then, it had gone like clockwork. Tallie, with delight, watched the shocked look on Olivia’s face when she opened the door expecting a female hotel manager, but instead came face to face with a Taser wielding double of herself, Tallie! Firing the Taser, the shocked girl slumped into Tallies’ welcome arms. Kicking the door shut, Tallie pulled Olivia into the bathroom, where she was then bound and gagged. To make it look like a robbery, Tallie stripped Olivia of her pearl necklace, earrings, bracelets and rings. Then she quickly looted the apartment of any other small, but valuable items. Placing these items, along with the small backpack, into a leather clutch. Tallie then went to the dresser top and opened the black case sitting there. She whistled to herself as she savored the shiny contents. Looking them over, she made a selection, then poured the remaining jewelry into the clutch, glittering explosive fire as they went. She placed the selected diamond jewelry on the bathroom sink. Tallie found Olivia’s gold purse and opened it and pulled the ticket out. Studying, with eager eyes, the prize they had worked so hard to obtain. The small ticket was the key to the whole plot, worth potentially millions.

  

Carrying the purse to the bathroom, Tallie started to get ready. De bagging Olivia’s purple gown, she slipped it on. It poured over her curvy figure perfectly, as they had known it would. Tallie had switched her calfskin gloves for a pair of Olivia’s satin ones. It was as she had been putting on Olivia’s glittering diamonds that the tied up girl started to stir. Walking over to the groggy eyed girl, Tallie pretended to fumble with the ropes knots, and administered the hypo containing the knockout drops. After checking the heavily sedated Olivia’s Pulse, Tallie finished putting on the unlucky girls jewels.

 

Tallie admired herself in the mirror, almost not recognizing herself. She had dyed her midnight black hair blonde to match Olivia‘s and had put in blue tinted contacts. The clingy gown fitted snugly in all the right places, tightly outlining her perky breasts and nicely rounded butt. Very nice, thought Tallie beaming. After putting on Olivia’s stiletto heels, Tallie pronounced herself ready. Picking up the purse, she patted it for luck, and went into the bedroom. Tallie called the front desk, asking to have a limo called to pick her up out front, then she also ordered a wakeup call with breakfast for eleven o’clock the next morning. Hanging up the phone, Tallie still had 12 minutes left to kill. She spent it retracing her steps around the entire apartment making sure nothing had been overlooked, and then double checked that Olivia was going to stay out of the picture. When her time was up, Tallie snatched the clutch up from the satin covers of the bed, heavy now with Olivia’s valuables and her running suit and backpack. Tallie left the apartment, closing the door after hanging a do not disturb sign on the lever. Tallie entered the empty elevator , pushed the down button, and focused on the task at hand.

  

Finally, after seemingly endless months of careful plotting, preparation, rehearsals and dry runs. It was time. The whole scheme had been planned to the minutest detail, it had to be. The main prize was the tens of millions of dollars’ worth of jewels worn by the female guests attending the annual formal Casino Night by the Bay Ball. The annual black tie ball was a Republican Political Fundraiser by special invitation only and Olivia, who had been carefully selected and shadowed for weeks now, had been one of the lucky ticket holders. As a final coup de grâce , Tallie would attend the ball wearing Olivia’s luxurious gown and her brilliantly expensive diamonds, fitting right in with the other attendees. Security would be checking ID’s at the door. But Tallie now resembled Olivia almost to a T. She would fool those rent a cops easily as they checked her against Olivia‘s driver’s license for identification, bending over and showing a little bosom for added distraction. Tallie couldn’t wait to mingle and rub elbows with the galas ultra-rich patrons. She would mark her time by mingling and endearing herself to as many of the male guests as possible in the short time allotted to her. She would use her rich welsh brogue to the fullest to win over the posh male Yanks. All the while admiring the shiny gowns and scoping out the shimmering jewels that would be adorning her fellow female guests. Those jewels would include the Dahlkemper pearls, the Caboyt diamonds with the brilliant sapphires that placed the “Hope Diamond” to shame, and, of course, the famous matching waterfall diamond sets the Dempsey Twins would be wearing (Not to mention their Mother’s emeralds and rubies) . The sets, which had been presented as gifts at the twins ultra- fancy coning out ball, were insured for over 1 million dollars by the girls parents.

  

Then at the appointed hour, Tallie would slip away to a seldom used back stage door, conveniently hidden neath a stairwell. Security would not have this door covered. It was there that Tallies’ husband and his troupe of fellow masked thieves would be waiting to make their entrance. If all went to plan and it would, she was sure of that, they would proceed to hold up and rob all the guests. Relieving the lot of their fat designer purses, thick leather wallets, gold Rolexes, and of course, their jewels, Lots and lots of shimmering, pricy jewelry. Not to mention the piles of loose cash lying on the gambling tables begging to be collected. Tallie’s heart beat faster at the enticing visions.

 

After the last guest had been relieved of their valuables, Tallie’s next part of the plot would come. This was where Tallie’s experience as an actress would pay off. The thieves would grab an innocent hostage (Tallie) by knifepoint Then, while threatening the life of the frightened squirming hostage, order the rest of the guests to strip off their clothing. If Tallie had played her part well, mingling and playing the doe eyed innocent who reminded those she met as someone who they would love to protect, her fellow guests would not want to see her harmed and be obedient to the robbers threats, not wishing any harm to come to her. The guests would be threatened to not to try anything for the next hour, or they would eliminate their hostage. The gang would then leave with their loot, as well as their hapless hostage. Then they would make, what in Tallie’s opinion, was a rather brilliantly orchestrated get away.

  

This was not the first time out for Tallie and her husband’s team, but it promised to be their last. The gang had been operating in Europe and Latin America, seeking out small, but lucrative, gatherings of the privileged and ultra-wealthy. They had gotten quite adept, fine tuning a formula that successfully paid attention to even the minutest detail.

  

Tallie loved playing the part of the inside victim. Getting as close as possible to the female guests (usually by flirting with husbands and boyfriends) to get a close appraisal of their jewels. Then, after letting her husband and crew loose, observing the well-dressed guests being herded to line up along the wall with raised hands. Usually creating a colorful array of swishing lace, satin, silk , velvety gowns and dresses, all flowing along forlorn figures. It was a thrill to watch their facial and body expressions and reactions. Especially of the women and girls present, as they were forced to hand over their flashy gemstones, their Shiny gold and silver, opulent pearls and other assorted fine jewelry were handed over reluctantly from about their persons.

 

Then would come the part that really aroused Tallie. The thieves would reach her and tell her to “fork over the jewels miss,” and depending on her mood, would do so, either acting defiant and forcing them to take them off her, or frightened(especially if the thief was her husband) , and timidly handing them over. She would be squirming inside with a deep, delicious delight as she took off , or had the thief wrench off, each precious piece. It was a reaction she did not fully understand, but just knew and accepted it as a scintillating feeling. Tallie, shivered, licking her lips at past memories of being a robbery “victim”.

  

The band had no qualms about was fair game, boldly invading Weddings, Receptions, Fancy dress dances and even the upscale prom or mansion party. All had been meticulously planned, all had been very lucrative. Their last raid had been carried out on a coming out party for an English Earl/ Minister and his titled wife’s only daughter. It had occurred at the minister’s isolated country manor located deep in the moors. Where, in addition to the jewels worn by the guests that ill-fated Saturday evening, the manor’s many bedroom safes yielded a dazzling array of cases of unworn jewelry brought by the guests for the four day weekend.

  

Tallie fondly remembered that raid. She had gained access to the family by going as the guest of a rather vain bachelor she had “happened to make an acquaintance with,” in London. The dinner gatherings and nightly parties that had led up to the night of the debutante’s ball had been all over the top, as only very old money can pull off. Tallie had almost suffered a system overload by observing the bounty of rich offerings at her fingertips. Beckoning jewels so very close, and as of yet, so very far. The Saturday evening ball could not have come soon enough. But come it did, and the minister’s daughter did not disappoint, nor did her mother or any other of their female guests. The young debutante had made her grand entrance in a long slinky blood red gown and matching gloves. Among the child’s perfect jewels was included an authentic family heirloom tiara, dripping with pristine diamonds, holding up the wavy curls of her silky fawn hair.

  

Tallies mouth had watered as she kept stealing looks, keeping her eyes glued to the precocious miss all evening. She inwardly was squirming with anticipation, up until the delightful moment when the begowned debutante limply removed and handed over the tiara, along with the rest of her gleaming diamonds and pearls to one of the gang of masked robbers who had had the “audacity “ to crash the party..

  

Now, Tallie was traditionally allowed to keep one piece of jewelry from the loot taken from each job as part of her take if she so desired. She always enjoyed picking out pieces she would like to have as she mingled with her fellow guests before her husband’s gang charged in. In the coming out party it had been the sad puppy faced debutante‘s cascading diamond earrings that Tallie had claimed for her own from the minute she first saw them dangling from the pretty girl’s delicate ears. Tallie had subsequently worn and been “robbed” of those earrings several times on jobs since then.

  

After the Manor house’s guests had been relieved of their valuables, the gang had made its getaway, seemingly vanishing into the moors misty air. The mechanics of that escape would form the basis of their getaway attempt after this evening’s robbery of the wealthy guests attending the “By the Bay Ball” Actually the symmetry of the two events did not stop there. The profit realized by the take from the Earl’s family and guests had given the gang the seed money for the enormous expense in planning tonight’s complex raid. And tonight’s successful raid on the ball, appropriately enough, its diamond jubilee, would be splashed over all of the countries newspapers, like the Manor raid had been. And like after the Manor raid, Tallie and her husband would be reading those papers in the safty of their isolated island retreat.

 

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As Tallie dwelt on that remembrance, the elevator completed its long, uninterrupted journey by tinging its 1st floor arrival. Showtime! Tallie thought with wry amusement as she stepped into the now crowded lobby. Tonight would be more of the same tingling robbery experiences, only ten times better and since it may very well be her last time , Tallie was going to savor every delicious minute.

 

Tallie left the elevator and moved quickly towards the sitting area she had occupied when watching for Olivia to come in. In one of the chairs sat a young man wearing wraparound sunglasses reading a blue covered novel. She swished by him, allowing her satin clad leg to brush along his. She watched with enticement as he straightened, uncomfortably, in his chair, his reaction to her teasing pleasing her immensely . Going around him, she placed her clutch on the chair behind him before turning and primping herself in front of one of the long mirrored walls that lined the sitting area. Seeing that no one as of yet was looking her way, she smiled to herself and swished her way back into the main lobby, leaving behind her clutch. She again passed the young man, who, even with the sunglasses, bore a striking resemblance to a young Sidney Poitier! No signal passed between them. The blue novel meant everything was going as planned, a red novel would have meant danger. The clutch on the chair behind him signaled the young man she had teased, Jessie by name , that everything was a go on Tallies end. After she left, Jessie would retrieve the clutch and rejoin Tallies husband and the rest of his gang.

  

With the prearranged signals exchanged, Tallie happily made her way to the fancy Glass doors where a uniformed Doorman was opening for arriving and departing guests. She could feel more than one pair of jealous eyes following her as she weaved her way through the crowd, her long gown swishing deliciously along her pretty figure. The pretty blond in the purple satin and shimmering diamonds was soon lost to sight, as she exited the doors to the misty street below. Those watching her were totally oblivious that the pretty blonde passing them was setting into motion the complex wheels of a rather ingenious scheme. Meanwhile in a ballroom some miles away a large group of extremely well dressed and decked out guests attending a certain excessively extravagant Ball , were innocently mingling, jewels sparkled with a frenzied riot of colours! These heavily gem encrusted guests were also totally oblivious as to what fate had in store for them in a few hours.

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@ Chatwick University extends its compliments to the unknown artist whose worthy photo and captivating title proved to be the spark that ignited the genesis of our Tallies Odyssey….

 

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.

 

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

 

Monument to Yakov Sverdlov in Yekaterinburg (Sverdlovsk)

Variations on a theme «My Yekaterinburg»

Camera: Canon EOS 5

Lens: Canon EF 28-105 1:3.5-4.5 USM

Film: Fujifilm Fujicolor C200 (135/36)

Photo taken: 24/01/2017

Scanner: Pakon F235+

 

Historical note: July 15, 1927 at the Paris Commune Square in Yekaterinburg was a monument to the well-known political figure Yakov Sverdlov.

 

Personality Yakov Sverdlov with confidence can be called outstanding and unsolved to this day - until now historians have not come to a definite opinion about its activities, but most confidently speak of it as the Gray Cardinal of the Russian revolution. As the third man in the Bolshevik Party, he chose not to appear at the earliest opportunity to the public, and to rule "behind the scenes": being in 1905 in Yekaterinburg, he rallied around him clandestine workers who had influence over the proletariat, as well as participated in the preparation of the execution of the royal family.

 

In the early twenties of the last century on the initiative of the Bolsheviks passed a nationwide collection of money for the installation of a commemorative sculpture of Yakov Sverdlov, which later at the Leningrad plant "Red Vyborzhets" and was cast monument.

 

City Ekaterinburg from 1924 to 1991 bore the name of Sverdlovsk, in honor of Yakov Sverdlov.

 

From me: Monument interesting but pose Sverdlov always produced a lot of jokes and anecdotes, even during the Soviet era. I have my own version — the monument seems to be saying to us: «I am innocent in all this ugliness, Citizens Judges. That's all they are: Vovka, Levka and Joseph screwed up, and I even was not there».

Letea forest is a natural reservation, covering an area of approximately 2,825 ha (6,980 acres). It is the oldest protected area in Romania. It was established in 1930, and not by accident: it is the northernmost subtropical forest in the world, and only of its kind in Europe, home of about 3,500 species of plants and animals.

 

It has a rich flora and fauna, described incompletly, but it is sure that rare and endangered species including endemic species (found only here) find their home here, such as Centaurea pontica. Visiting the forest is a unique experience as in a continental climate you will find a subtropical deciduous forest, interwoven with lianas. We can admire 4-700 years old oaks, poplars, elms, alders or lindens, but going in forest we can see sand dunes too. The sand dunes are home to many rare and endangered flora species as well.

The fauna of Letea forest is also rich, about 70% of the Danube Delta fauna can be found here: is the nesting site of over 150 species of birds such as the white-tailed eagle (Haliaeetus albicilla), short-toed snake eagle (Circaetus gallicus), tawny eagle (Aquila rapax), black kite (Milvus migrans), herpetological rarities such as the steppe racer (Eremias arguta), or meadow viper (Vipera renardi).

 

The forest is famous for its “wild horses” that are actually released by locals and become broncos (semi-feral horses). Approximately 2,000 broncos are found in the forest, unfortunately causing serious damage to the local biosphere. The capture and transportation of these horses is an unsolved problem.You can find a detailed descriptions of the species from Danube Delta here.

 

Access: we arrive to Letea from Tulcea by navigating on the Sulina branch, then the Magearu canal. Transport through the forest can be done with dray. Locals make available tractors for transportation, but keep in mind that tractors disturb the flora and fauna of the forest. Even outside the forest, we are passing by many canals and we can see nesting birds!

So what was the highwayman I had danced with on that fateful evening

Twilights Ghost

 

Uncanny was an exclamation used a lot by my grandPappa; I used to love to hear him say it, even though it was years before I knew its meaning. Uncanny is also the best word I can use to describe the following story:

 

I’m not sure if what follows is a true “ghost” story. I always thought of ghosts as being wispy things that people always talk about seeing, but never touching. And that’s another issue, I do not believe in ghosts, so why is it that people like me are the ones these type of things happen too. I couldn’t tell you the number of people who upon have heard this story exclaim, oh you saw a ghost, wish it had been me. The ones who want to believe never seem to ever actually see one.

 

As you can see, I have never placed much faith into supernatural occurrences. Even though my GrandPappa would tell some pretty spooky stories to my sisters, cousins , and I during late night fires around the hearth, I never really thought it could ever happen in real life. Now the romantic medieval tales of knights and princesses that my Móraí wove were another story, so to speak. Those I would fantasize about, and would desire strongly to become true, impressionable young lady that I was, and still am I’ll admit.

 

And that’s the rub.

 

The tale I am about to tell, really happened to me, many years ago. But as luck would have it, it favors my GrandPappas tales more so than my dear Móraí s.

 

GrandPappa was the dean of English Prose , Chatwick college, Surry, but it was my Móraí who was known for her stories, one of which was even published . They livedhappily on campus in a small stone cottage that once had been the livery for the historically old estate that now made up the College’s main campus. A medieval looking cottage made for lighting the imaginations of young girls.

 

One tale of my Móraí I can still recall vividly was about a local highwayman for whom Abbot‘s Chase, the road bordering the campus, was supposedly named. Craig Abbot supposedly held up the coach that my grandmothers great grand aunt Sarah had been a passenger in You could almost taste the suspense on the air as the highwayman courteously ( for a highwayman) had Sarah hand over her jewels, when my Móraí reached the part where Aunt Sarah had her hand kissed and had pleaded with him not to take her emerald ring, which had been a family keepsake she had received on her 18st birthday, She would have us spellbound with apprehension as to what would happen next( although we would hear the story many times over, and knew the outcome, it was always the same feeling). The highwayman had smile, slipping off Aunt Sarah’s rings, but allowed her to keep the emerald’s she wore around her throat. Poor Aunt Sarah had loved that ring, and it was not a family secret of the grief it caused her to lose it. But, romance always would overshadow reality, and my sisters and I would talk through the evening wondering what had become of such a dashing figure as my grandmothers masked highwayman. But it still remained a story, and nothing more. I had always hoped that I would dream myself into one of my Móraí’s tales, but no dashing prince, or romantic highwayman ever did.

 

It was years later that I would learn that my romantic highwayman had met his fate by the old bridge on Abbots Chase and had been hung. Legend had it that he was buried in the ancient cemetery that could still be found in those days, and maybe still there, in a small wooded corner of the campus estate.

 

Years later, after my grandparents had both passed on, and their old stone cottage a distant, but still warm memory, I attended Chatwick college with no direct plans or purpose to be there, other than to walk the same halls as my grandfather.

 

My experience happened one evening as I was attending a Masque Ball for charity on a blustery Halloween‘s eve. The Ball was being held at the posh old Ryder house in Chatwick Parish . My Girlfriend, Tallie, did not want to go alone, as friends are want to do, and convinced, or rather conned, me into going. I found an old green satin gown with a matching sash, from which a long brooch dangled, It had been a relic from a cousins wedding. I removed the satin sash and bow and it became a rather respectable little gown. I was also sporting the shiny emerald necklace that we had found among my Grandmother’s things. It was pretty, with glittery emeralds surrounding a petite diamond pendant that sparkled like the real thing.

 

So anyway, there I was, all dressed up, bored to tears as the saying quite correctly goes,, and of course no male seemed to notice me, and I was too shy to ask someone to dance. I remember watching my, friend off dancing with a , handsome bloke in , of course, a prince charming outfit. As I was snickering to myself over an image placed in my mind concerning his green nylon pantaloons, someone stepped onto the hem of my long gown. Turning around I tripped into a tall, bearded saturnine man sporting a black hood and mask. He caught my fall, and twirled me onto the dance floor. He was really light on his feet and had these intense, icy eyes staring from his mask An executioner I joked to him, knowing full well he was dressed like my Móraí’s quixotic highwayman. He did not answer, only looked me over with those wistful eyes. Silent type I remember remarking to him, trying to force a smile, but it did not work. He just grinned, remaining mute and mysterious Thinking back I realized that he had never really said anything the whole time we danced. He spoke to me through his eyes, sad and morose; it said everything that I had needed to know. And It had been enough.

 

He kissed my hand when the dance was finished, and still not uttering a word, turned and made his way towards the black oak doors leading to the English Gardens. On a sudden whim, I followed him

 

He stopped at the steps outside; an turning , looked back at me, then led me down the stairs. The walk through the deserted moonlit Garden was surreal, like being in one of my Móraí’s romantic tales. Coming to a break in the hedge , he went through. I followed, walking right into a low hanging cobweb spanning the opening. I bent over to free my long hair of the sticky web, I looked around, that quickly he had deserted me. My highwayman was gone, like a phantom in the night, or more likely a will o wisp of my imagination. But he had seemed real enough, so I did not dwell on the subject, just turned and headed back inside, my skirts swishing along the cobblestone.

 

I walked back to the hall and rejoined my girlfriend, who was sitting with her frog prince. As she introduced me to him she stopped, and placed a hand to my throat, asking me where my necklace had gotten off to. With a start I realized that it was gone, and we spent the rest of the evening fruitlessly tracking it down. But it, like the masked highwayman, did not reappear.

 

Now, as I said in the beginning, I was never one to have dreams, and even if I did, none save one, ever remained with me. That one dream I still vividly recall came later that evening... I had declined my friends offer to join her and her boyfriend Charles( forever the frog prince to me), to go out after the party. Instead I went back to my room, and still in the gown, picked up a text that some professor actually thought a normal being could make sense of, and stated to half heatedly study. I found my thoughts drifting to the party and wondering if the mysterious highwayman would come back into my life.

 

Suddenly I was alone, walking along a misted Abbots Chase , my long gown again swishing along the stones. Just ahead of me sat a misty shrouded mounted figure, outlined in darkness. Steam emits into the chilly night air from his horses’ flared nostrils. It shakes its head awaiting its masters orders. The cloaked figure looks left, then look down into a tree lined valley. The distant sound of horses carries up, and a lone coach comes into view

The carriage horses have just strained to come up from a small valley, the driver cracks his whip to keep them moving. He does not hear what they do, and he assumes their neighs are in answer to his whip. So he is totally unprepared when the horseman, clocked and masked, rides out from the trees and points a sword at him. He pulls to a jerking stop. “Stand and deliver” is the command he hears, The man’s voice muffled from beneath his mask.

 

Dismounting, the rider strolls casually up to the carriage door, and invites the occupants to step out. They do so, a gentleman first, An older man with the detached look of a sour judge. A bright gold chain encircling his waist, diamond cufflinks glint in the moonlight. Behind him, in the shadows of the carriage, emits the pleasing, to the masked figure, sounds of a rustling dress.

 

Behind the Judge, the open carriage door is bathed in moonlight. A whisper of satin precedes the pretty lady that enters into view. Easy does it the masked rider says as he helps her down, his words rolling pleasantly with a kindly English accent. I shall, she answers, head held proudly.

 

His eyes focus on her necklace as it lays glistening along her throat. In my dream, the same necklace That I had found in my Móraí’s jewel case. She steps down into a pool of moon light, revealing the shimmering silver frock that adorns her pretty figure, the gowns long skirts come cascading out as she steps down to the ground. Her hair is up, and a set of drippy emerald earrings sway freely, twinkling merrily about its forlorn wearer. Diamond rings, one a bright emerald sparkle along her slender gloved fingers.

 

” Nice of you to come dressed up this lovely evening, my pretty lass.” He smiles gallantly in her eyes, she blushes . What do you want,” the judge asks in a commanding voice. With a twinkle in his eyes, the bandit answers, “Well that’s the problem you see, my steed I need your valuables to purchase his feed. That right rapskellian, he says to the horse behind him, who snorts upon hearing his name and tosses his head, mane flowing. His words come across in an almost embarrassed apology. The Highwayman approaches the Judge, his horse waiting patiently in the background.

 

The figure walks up to him, and holds out his hand, fingers beckoning. At a sign of hesitation, the sword is produced and pointed at his waist. He hands over his fat wallet, gold watch and chain. His diamond cufflinks and emerald pin are also given over.. The booty is placed in a pocket of the the highway man’s cloak . Thank you sir, the highwayman says in an almost civil manner.

 

The Highwayman moves to the pretty lady in silver. The moon is seen behind her, framing her face casting a light through so very soft long hair.

 

With puppy sad eyes she looks into his, her heart melting. He moves forward, his sword drawn, and he brings up his gloved hand, lifting her necklace from her throat . Yes, he whispers genially, this for starters now please raise your hands. The look he is giving the area where her diamonds lay upon her throat, just above her ample bosom, is one of lustful desire.

Your jewels, then, miss, he asks her with a daunting voice. Her mouth pursed in a whimper, she sadly lowers her hands , reaches behind and fumbled for her earrings, they explodes into dazzling light as she pulls them reluctantly free and lays them upon the outstretched palm. She slides the bracelets off each wrist, then looking sadly at her shimmering rings, she pulls off the two diamond ones from her gloved fingers. She stops at the emerald ring, she looks up at him, please sir, may I keep it. My lady he says , taking her hand up in his. I cannot let you keep it, though I can tell it has meaning to you. He pulls it off. I will let you keep your necklace however my lady, so that you may sparkle this evening. Realizing he will not bargain, she steps back and watches miserably as her pile of jewelry glistens in his palm.

 

The horse comes back into view, his head moving up and down, snorting. The highwayman, sheathing his sword, leaves the group and walks backwards to the horse. “I thank you my good gentleman and fine lady, your contribution this evening is greatly appreciated.” The Judge looks at him with scorn, the pretty lady smiles a sad little smile The figure on foot remounts, and rides off.

 

Suddenly a cold wind comes howling down the road, I tried to wake, but felt myself paralyzed as The Highwayman road off, soon after soldiers on horseback come thundering after him down the road. He is far ahead and I see him cross the bridge, he dismounts and slapping rapskellianon the flank, now rider less, the horse gallops off down Abbots Chase. The masked highwayman darts under the bridge. As the soldiers cross the bridge in hot pursuit, he salutes them from his hiding spot. As I watch, he then goes up and works on of the flagstones loose on the bottom of the bridge, creating a little hallow. It is here that he places his ill-gotten gains, moving the stone back in place he moves onto the road, suddenly he turns around, looking back. I start to look also, but then am aware of a key in my door. Reluctantly I tried to hold onto my dream as I hear my roommates call. As I woke, I found my hand searching in vain for the necklace I had lost, the one he had said I could keep in my dream,.

The next day I discussed my dream with my girlfriend and her boyfriend after lecture. He suggested we should visit the old bridge and look for the loose flagstone. I chided him for his silliness; it was only a dream after all, a remnant of one of my Móraí’s stories. But after they left, I had a sort of odd, haunting feeling. I remember feeling my throat again for the necklace that I had worn. I rose and walked along campus until I reached Abbots Chase. It was almost surreal as I walked down it .The sun disappeared under some blustery autumn clouds, it grew colder, everything around me took on a colorless pale. Off to one side I soon saw the old cemetery, and for the first time in my life I went into it, looking over its crumbling gravestones, reading faint names of those long ago forgotten. I found it, off in a corner by itself. A long tall stone, with carved writing, faint with age ; Craig Abbot was written, and below what looked like the word hung. With a start I realized that the date he had departed from this earth was the very date I had gone to the dance, and chillingly, the date of last evening when I had my dream. I ran my fingers along the etchings, and then still in somewhat of a daze, I went back to the old road and drifted to the bride a short ways off. Upon reaching it, I remembered in vivid detail the stone he had pried away in my dream. I went to it and moved it. It did not budge at first, but to my surprise, stated to wobble, then it come down, exposing a small cavity. Wondering what it meant, I reached inside and felt around. My fingers curled around a small, cold object. Pulling it out I discovered it was a ring, upon further examination it was an emerald ring, one just like the one taken from the pretty young lady in my dream, similar to the one my Móraí had said my Aunt Sarah Had lost to Craig Abbot.

As I finally write this down from my memory, I am wearing the ring I discovered hidden away.. It is very old, and very pretty. What connection, if any it has with my story, I am unsure, but obviously there are many to be made. So was the highwayman I had danced with on that fateful evening I had lost my necklace : a ghost, a figment of my dream, some materialization of the late, hung Craig Abbot. Or merely a flesh and blood rogue whose identity I never will discover? And the ring I am now wearing, could it possibly be Aunt Sarah’s? Much like a ghost, the real answer may never be found.

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

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.

 

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

LAPD Patrol Officers are called out to a grim discovery--more Stormtroopers found killed execution style in a local park. Detectives are en route while patrol secures the crime scene.

_

Someone is killing Stormtroopers and police have no suspects. Vader is once again demanding answers, threatens to take over the investigation and has issued a 100,000 Imperial Credit award for anyone with information leading the arrest of the suspect(s) involved.

_

If you have information about this case or the dozen other unsolved Stormtrooper murders, please leave what you know in the comments below.

 

■ Enjoy Brick Police on Facebook | Instagram | YouTube | Twitter | BrickPolice.com ■

"I keep on hearing the police have caught me but they wont fix me just yet. I have laughed when they look so clever and talk about being on the right track."

 

(excerpt from the "Dear Boss" letter, dated 25 September 1888)

 

('Jack the Ripper' and lamp post by McFarlane Toys / McFarlane's Monsters Series 3: Six Faces of Madness)

 

Diorama by RK

Title:

“If I die young bury me in satin” Samantha just could not keep from playing that song in her head.

  

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

Lyrics to the sonnet appear after the story

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

 

Samantha shook her head to clear her mind. Here she was on a deadly serious operation and a silly old song was all she could think about. She should have worn velvet tonight, she reasoned without any logic.

 

This was her third attempt out undercover. The only nibble so far had been a two bit second rate mugger on their first attempt. Sam remembered the look in his drooling eyes, he had figured that he had hit the jackpot as he forced, at knifepoint, Samantha to hand over her pricy jewels. Boy was he surprised when Sam’s team paid his seedy apartment a visit a few hours later as he was celebrating his good fortune with his cronies. Then she heard it….

 

Suddenly, all thoughts of songs and adolescencent punks were driven from her mind. Sam’s sixth sense was tingling; she had picked up a follower. She had heard him in the woods one the other side of the deserted lane. He was good, she hadn’t been aware of being followed until the muffled snap of a twig reached her ears. She shivered deliciously, come to momma she said to herself, not giving any outward sign that she had heard…….

**

The unknown assailant That Sam was trying to lure had been making a practice of preying on wealthy, unchaperoned women. Carefully selecting his victims based solely on the jewels they were exhibiting. Following them home as they left the upper class parties they were attending. He would then ambush them, tying up the hapless victim, then looting the house of anything small, but valuable, including whatever jewelry could be found on his bound, usually wriggling victim.

 

His fifth target had been taken a month ago on Halloween night. She had been a blonde mistress of a titled junior minister, who had set her up in his summer cottage, which overlooked the channel. She had been seized, bound, gagged and robbed inside the small cottage. In her struggles against her bindings she had choked to death. That had made it murder. That made it Sam’s problem. With the heat being put on by the junior minister Sam had been given carte blanche. But, by the manner with which Sir Mister ” junior” minister had been squawking, one would assume he was more concerned over the jewels that had been nicked than the untimely demise of his sexy young paramour!. The vain prig probably already had another one lined up and installed at the small cottage, waiting to be adorned with the jewels once they had been recovered Sam figured wryly. But, an assignment was an assignment no matter what her feelings were about the matter. So, Sam had assembled her team, supplied them with the very latest in technology, and had gone hunting him down.

 

Sam had felt a bit James Bondish wearing jewels with an array of tracking devices carefully hidden in amongst the tiffany quality Gems. Her rented cottage, an old keep for a bygone ancient castle, was also outfitted with ultra-sensitive listening devices. Her team could track every move and hear every word spoken as Sam was out on her prowl.

**

And now she was being carefully followed. Instinctively she knew that whomever it was, it wasn’t a two bit hood this time. Another twig snapped, closer and, Sam thought, deliberate. She turned around to look, hand to mouth, in all appearances she was the slightly drunk and vulnerable, wealthy brunette that was her role on this case . But, unnoticeably, on the inside, Samantha ‘s whole demeanor changed, becoming cold and alert, Knowing it was her job to bring this piece of venom to justice. Bring it on she thought to herself, hoping this was the one. Then she turned and made her way to the keep, her senses prickling….

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"If I Die Young"

  

If I die young, bury me in satin

Lay me down on a bed of roses

Sink me in the river at dawn

Send me away with the words of a love song

 

Uh oh, uh oh

 

Lord make me a rainbow, I'll shine down on my mother

She'll know I'm safe with you when she stands under my colors, oh,

And life ain't always what you think it ought to be, no

Ain't even grey, but she buries her baby

 

The sharp knife of a short life, oh well

I've had just enough time

 

If I die young, bury me in satin

Lay me down on a bed of roses

Sink me in the river at dawn

Send me away with the words of a love song

 

The sharp knife of a short life, oh well

I've had just enough time

 

And I'll be wearing white, when I come into your kingdom

I'm as green as the ring on my little cold finger,

I've never known the lovin' of a man

But it sure felt nice when he was holdin' my hand,

There's a boy here in town, says he'll love me forever,

Who would have thought forever could be severed by...

 

...the sharp knife of a short life, oh well?

I've had just enough time

 

So put on your best, boys, and I'll wear my pearls

What I never did is done

 

A penny for my thoughts, oh, no, I'll sell 'em for a dollar

They're worth so much more after I'm a goner

And maybe then you'll hear the words I been singin'

Funny when you're dead how people start listenin'

 

If I die young, bury me in satin

Lay me down on a bed of roses

Sink me in the river at dawn

Send me away with the words of a love song

 

Uh oh (uh, oh)

The ballad of a dove (oh, uh)

Go with peace and love

Gather up your tears, keep 'em in your pocket

Save 'em for a time when you're really gonna need 'em, oh

 

The sharp knife of a short life, oh well

I've had just enough time

 

So put on your best, boys, and I'll wear my pearls.

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

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.

 

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

 

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’!

 

^^^^^^^^^^

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

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

 

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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Courtesy of Chatwick University Archives

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

I decided to do my own (and blonde:P) version of this movie poster: www.moviewallpapers.net/images/wallpapers/2006/the-black-...

The murder of Elizabeth Short has inspired the creation of the movie

Outside The Barony Bar, Edinburgh — where the topics range from politics to pint preferences, and no world problem is left unsolved (at least until the next round).

There are mysteries that should remain unsolved because in the wrong hands such knowledge can bring chaos and destruction across the Galaxy.

 

However there are evil beings who would do anything to gain power. Someone has sent a group of hired guns to an uncharted planet to recover a powerful artifact of a bygone era.

 

They started to shoot to death anything they ran into until a ancient and noble protector (represented by Bionicle Lewa here) emerged from the shadows.

 

Before the hired gun was able to press the trigger a swift slash of the protector's blade put his evil deeds to an end.

 

I hope you like this photo and the little background story.

 

Now, few words on the project I mentioned in the title :)

 

What do you think about the use of Action Figures in photos?

Beside few action figures I got on clearance to use as adversaries of Bionicle/Star Wars Buildable figures I found a very interesting Boba Fett Action Figure.

 

I was thinking about making few Action Figure photos in addition to the Lego ones but I'd really like to hear what you think about. Would you find it interesting or is it something you have no interest about?

 

Let me know: your opinion means a lot me :) I have a very nice story idea featuring the Bionicle sets and those action figures could be find a place in that story.

 

May the Brick be with You :)

Legend of Ruth Colbath is a NH legend based on New Hampshire's Kancamagus Highway in Carroll County NH.

 

Living along what is now called the Kancamagus Scenic Byway (Kancamagus Highway) in New Hampshire were the Colbath's. One night in 1891, Ruth Colbath's husband Thomas left the family farm to run errands. Thomas Colbath never returned that night. For 39 years, Ruth Colbath waited for her beloved husband. She missed him so much that she kept an oil lamp burning in the window, hoping for his return.

 

Ruth Colbath died in 1930, at the age of 80. Three years after Ruth died, Thomas returned. Thomas offered no explanation for where he had been for the past 39 years. Thomas Colbath claimed he wandered away and was too embarrassed to return and admit he was lost.

 

It is now thought by some that Thomas Colbath may have suffered from what we now know as Alzheimers.

 

Today, the Russell-Colbath House is a registered historic site and owned by the US Forestry Service. It is open to the public, tours are given daily in season by volunteers.

 

SOURCE: nhtourguide.com/ruth-colbath-legend-319.html

Featured as ESA/Hubble Pictures of the Week Investigating A Made-to-Measure Galaxy

 

The spiral arms of the galaxy NGC 7038 wind languidly across this image from the NASA/ESA Hubble Space Telescope. NGC 7038 lies around 220 million light-years from Earth in the southern constellation Indus. This image portrays an especially rich and detailed view of a spiral galaxy, and exposes a huge number of distant stars and galaxies around it. That’s because it’s made from a combined 15 hours worth of Hubble time focused on NGC 7038 and collecting light. So much data indicates that this is a valuable target, and indeed, NGC 7038 has been particularly helpful to astronomers measuring distances at vast cosmic scales.

 

The distances to astronomical objects are determined using an interconnected chain of measurement techniques called the Cosmic Distance Ladder. Each rung in the ladder is calibrated by earlier steps, based on measurements of objects closer to us. This makes the accuracy of distances at the largest scales dependent on how accurately distances to nearby objects can be determined. Hubble inspected NGC 7038 with its Wide Field Camera 3 to calibrate two of the most common distance measurement techniques: type 1A supernovae and Cepheid variables.

 

One of Hubble's original science goals was to accurately establish distances to night-sky objects, and over its three decades of operation Hubble’s increasingly precise distance measurements have contributed to one of the most intriguing unsolved problems in astronomy. Distance measurements are used to derive a quantity known as the Hubble constant, which captures how fast the Universe is expanding. As astronomer’s measurements of the Hubble constant have become more precise, their value has become increasingly inconsistent with the value of the Hubble Constant derived from observations of the Big Bang’s afterglow. Astronomers have been unable to explain the mismatch between the two values of the Hubble constant, which suggests that a new discovery in cosmology is waiting to be made.

 

Image description: An enormous spiral galaxy fills half of the frame, in the centre. It is oval-shaped, with four blue spiral arms winding around it. The galaxy’s centre shines brightly with pale yellow light. Thin strands of orange dust are spread around the centre, following the paths of the arms. Above and below the galaxy, very many small stars and galaxies are visible on the black background.

 

Image credits: ESA/Hubble & NASA, D. Jones Acknowledgement: G. Anand, L. Shatz

 

Disclaimer: this image version has been processed by ESA team; an acknowledgement to my name exists solely due to my prior attempt at processing of this galaxy from HLA.

© Beth Retro 2009

-Not to be used anywhere without written consent.

 

From "Letters to a young poet" by Rilke.

 

"Have patience with everything that is unsolved in your heart.

Try to cherish the questions themselves, like closed rooms and books written

in a strange tongue. Do not search now for the answers which you cannot be given because you could not live them.

 

It is a matter of living everything.

LIVE THE QUESTIONS NOW.

Perhaps you will then gradually, without noticing it, one distant day,

live right into the answer".

 

298/365

In the popular iconography of Hanuman having to see him in a darker shade of green is a mystery that stands unsolved for me. Perhaps the temple minders would be able to shed some light.

 

Hanuman is shown here carrying Ram and Lakshman on his shoulders and the epic from Ramayana epitomises that it is not strength alone that is important but it has to be coupled with responsibility and devotion.

 

Bangalore can be quite a cluster of Hindu temples specially in areas where there is sizable Tamil influence and small temples can be seen on roadsides and squares dedicated to different Gods of the Hindu pantheon. Right next to this temple is another on of Shiva or Parvathy.

 

Next time I am going to Commercial Street which used to be the most happening shopping district of Bangalore I will stop by and ask the priest as to why the color green.

  

_DSC5166 nef

Have patience with everything that remains unsolved in your heart. Try to love the questions themselves, like locked rooms and like books written in a foreign language. Do not now look for the answers. They cannot now be given to you because you could not live them. It is a question of experiencing everything. At present you need to live the question. Perhaps you will gradually, without even noticing it, find yourself experiencing the answer, some distant day.

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

this website.

 

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A little nighttime fun at old wool mill ruins.

 

In 1867 land was purchased by two brothers from an adjacent farm where they established the mill. The stone walls were 2.5 feet thick & utilizing the the flow of nearby rapids on the large river they built a raceway. Each spring farmers would bring there sheep to the river alongside the mill to clean them before they were sheared as clean wool fetched a higher price. The wool was often then spun into yarn & woven into blankets. The mill closed in 1898 when a larger modernized mills were already in operation.

 

The new owners had the idea of converting the Mill into a hotel. After a considerable amount of money was invested they realized it wasn't a profitable endeavor & the mill was sold & modernized & converted into a summer residence. It contained 13 bedrooms, 2 dining rooms, a smaller, private dining room, a larger kitchen, 4 washrooms & a few public rooms. In 1941 a guest was victim of a homicide which to this day has been unsolved.

 

The residence was enjoyed until 1944 when CP Rail advised the owner of a new rail line that would essentially cut off access to it by crossing the only access road. After attempts in court to keep the road open, all bids failed. The residence was eventually purchased by the township & has remained unused ever since.

 

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Image of “Angie” first appeared : Best true detective cover July 1962

The story of the racket dames behind the sensational Park Avenue Jewel Robberies

 

*****

This is a link to a You Tube Video of a thief not unlike our Angie.

youtu.be/HAZdjhNVjxk

*********

  

Title: Now, if only she could find where that darling young miss, the one so richly clad in purple silk, had gotten her pretty little self-off too?

 

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

Name: Angelica D circa 1933

Subject: an unscrupulous light-fingered body thief

Place: Resolution Ball - Baltimore (original incarnation)

Time: Evening, through early morning, of the dance

  

Story line:

 

Angie grinned, stowing away the emerald bracelet, as she smugly watched the police dragging away the struggling girl. Lit cigarette dangling from a corner of her lip; Angie smirked wickedly to herself as Ginny frantically tried to plead her innocence.

**

One of the coppers had her by the wrists; the other tried gripping her waist, finding it slippery by the satiny gown she was wearing. Ginny was pleading, it was not me, I don’t know how it got there, please let me go, my emeralds, my bracelet… its…its..I gone! I must find it, shrieked the struggling girl. Angie just listened to the girl, ginning; Ginny’s tearful words, spoken in her brash nasally east ender accent, wasn’t helping her cause with the pre-judgmental coppers.

 

One of them snarled loudly into her ear, ere ,you aint the kind to wear emeralds sister, we’ve got your number, it was her diamonds youse was after.

 

Actually, she had, Angie admitted to herself wickedly. Yes, dear Ginny had been wearing an emerald bracelet, the one Angie now had tucked securely away. Nevertheless, she chose not to enlighten the harness bulls on the matter, and smugly watched as the small group disappeared through the entrance, heading down to the eastside patrol car waiting at the street, as she let a wisp of cigarette smoke curl upwards from her sneering lips.

**

So it was now, with the emeralds safely tucked away, that Angie turned he back to the main door to watch down the long corridor as she continued puffing on her victory smoke. At the end of the hallway was the main entrance to the cavernous Ballroom where all action had all taken place leading up to poor Ginny’s arrest.

 

With a suspect now in custody, and two less security bulls, Angie was free to slip back in amongst the wealthy guests in attendance at the ball. Now, if only she could find where that darling young miss, the one so richly clad in purple silk, had gotten her pretty little self-off too! She shivered deliciously at the mere thought of it. However, she decided to take her time finishing her cigarette, give things ample time to cool down, as she marveled at the opulence that seemed to bleed from every square inch of the Baltimore Palace this evening.

 

How Angie savored attending events held here, and visited the Baltimore area Ballroom several times whenever she was in town on “business”. The lighting, modern for the day, seemed to coax any piece of jewelry to sparkle. Making it ever so easy to focus on even the smallest (and sometimes most expensive) piece a fashionably dressed female would be wearing.

**

For you see, Angie was a master pickpocket, who, with the discovery and subsequent aid of a pamphlet written in the early 1800’s, was able to take her game to the next, more profitable level...

 

See Album: Angie Picks Chicago for the story of how she discovered the phamplette.

 

Entitled the Cutpurse: skilles, artes and Secretes of the Dip by “Gaston Monescu, 1826”, it covered the various tactics and moves used by master pickpockets of the time, Including whole chapters on successful “Methodes” of relieving a well-dressed lady of her” jeweles”.

 

Angie had nimbly crafted a new art form of relieving wealthy women and rich girls of their valuable jewelry. She performed this feat by combining the tactics of an illusionist, with the delicate touch of “The Dip” ; Employing this method to nick the fiery sparklers while still warm from the unwary, usually be-gowned , figures ostentatiously displaying them!

**

Angie began to reflect on how the ballroom had looked when she had first entered some three hours previously. She had been eagerly anticipating the opportunities in store for her inside, and she was not disappointed in the very least. The place was packed wall to wall with guests dressed in their dapper nines for the annual event.

 

Like a kid in a candy shop, Angie had eagerly looked over the crowd, admiring the shiny, flowing gowns the female guests were wearing. Selecting and keenly observing dresses made of the richest, most form fitting material, for by long experience, these women wearing them would bring the most profit. By employing this method to narrow the field of selections, Angie was able to quickly to pinpoint on a piece of jewelry, make her move, and be gone before giving any security patrolling the area a chance to recognize her for what she was. It sometimes was as easy as taking candy from a baby, or as Angie like to imagine it, relieving a satin and lace clad innocent of her “silver spoon”

 

Angie than eagerly looked over the jewels of those she had chosen, vividly glittering their colourful joy at being brought out of the vault and worn for this evening’s festivities. She had been quite hard pressed to make a selection, so for the first 30 minutes or so, Angie just mingled about, following her whimsy.

 

Then she spotted Olivia. Elegant in a long slick purple gown of luxurious silk that flowed and moved tightly along her shapely figure as she flitted about, presenting the very picture of a tickle thief’s dream ( see addendum rr).. Young, flighty and loaded with beckoning diamonds, Angie began to stalk her in ever decreasing circles, hunting her slowly, deliberately, much as a snake in the grass would a tiny unsuspecting mouse. However, all too soon, Angie realized that this mouse was being watched over by someone else, like a hawk.

 

The hawks name was Ginny. Lower east end, rough as her cousin Olivia was polished, awkward in one of her cousins borrowed long satin gowns, she watched protectively over her mingling cousin from the sidelines, totally out of her element, ill-fitting right down to the only jewelry she wore, a shimmering elegant emerald bracelet that was obviously borrowed( probably from Olivia) . Angie weighed the consequences of an attempt on Olivia’s diamonds, deciding that there was plenty of less guarded prey, and so Angie reluctantly decided to let go of the scent.

**

It was not much later that Angie, from her new perch at one of the twin bars that lined opposite sides of the room, found herself eyeing a most interesting subject. She rose and began trailing behind the swishing gown of her new prospect. The fine taffeta gown was spilling down along the still voluptuous, if not a little pudgy, figure of an older, matronly looking lady with long hair of faded gold. Her longish hair was home to a glittering Diamond Head band, from which shimmering strings of diamonds were entertained in her still silky soft hair.

 

The lady stopped to chat with two other finely decked out women, giving Angie a chance to circle and leisurely eyeball, head to foot, these unsuspecting ladies baubles. Angie felt her heart rate quicken with delight at what she saw.. Now, older women could be a little bit trickier since they were more likely to notice quicker the disappearance of often worn jewelry, as opposed to younger ladies or girls were not yet used to wearing fine jewelry adorning their squirming figures. Nevertheless, Angie spied something that should even the playing field a bit, so to speak, making this wealthy lady a fairly less risky prospect…

 

Now, Monescu‘s pamphlet had a little side Chapter on how ladies would sooner think jewels were lost as to believe they had been stolen from them (pickpockets only go after wallets and hankies, my dear, everyone knows that!) . To this end, losing one of a pair, like an earring, or clips, is a safe bet, especially if one desires to tempt fate and remain in the area to try for a second piece, like the brooch one of her friends was wearing.

 

And the lady Angie was ogling was wearing a pair of twin diamond and ruby clips, one on each side of the wide shiny sash that encircled her waist. Taking one of her jeweled clips should be as easy as slipping candy away from the side of a silken clad baby. Which in a fashion, Angie had actually done, once long ago, coming across a small group of wedding attired young girls playing alone at a playground, whose chaperones had obligingly wandered off for a bit. But, when Angie had left the chirpy little group to continue their game of (appropriately enough) cops n robbers, It had definitely not been the gullible young ladies candy that walked off along with her!

 

(See album, Angie at play, for the full story)

  

Angie’s full attention was now focused on the two wave shaped clips as the pair fired glittering salvos of flickering rainbow-like colures with each elegant movement their mistress made. Patiently Angie stalked from a distance, awaiting her chance. It came soon enough, when the Hors d’oeuvres were put out, and the clips, along with their mistress, headed with the other multitudes of guests to the long banquet tables. As they formed a line, Angie managed to wedge herself in between the lines, effectively cutting off her victim, who bumped against Angie.

 

Angie’s left hand slipped in and snaked along the satin sash, feeling once again the deliciously tingling ling chill she always experienced when her fingers first rubbed against the warm scintillating material of a luscious gown as she dipped in to steal the selected jewel.. This time was no different as her slender fingers located the first of the clips ; lifting it up, and nimbly flicked open the clasp( it was amazing how jewelers skimped on clasps when making upper end jewels), at the same time her right hand slithered up the slick taffeta backside of her victims gown. Reaching underneath an armpit, her fingernails dug in, distracting her victim as to the nefarious activity happening at her waist. The lady was knocked slightly off balance, and anyone else who saw the pair had their eyes focused their faces, and not on any handiwork occurring with the hands below sight.

 

Angie apologized profusely in her softest most innocent voice. Petting down the ladies backside as she did so with her right hand, while her left plucked the clip from her sash and palmed the jewel and slipped behind her back. It was over in seconds, merely someone trying to cut the line, and Angie made her escaped receiving a few clucks of the tongue from one of the ladies’ friend as the lady caught up to them. Angie just smiled at them winningly, her hand still behind her back. As she smiled, Angie slipped the diamond clip down inside her sash before turning away and heading off.

 

It had all come off quite easily, and Angie was congratulating herself, when suddenly a voice behind her pronounced, quite loud and clear, oh my gwad Ceclia, you’ve lost a brooch. Diamond clip Angie correctly the lady silently to herself. She did not turn, but kept on moving, even slowing her pace a bit. From the same area she heard Celica gasp. Me clip, I’ve lost one of me diamond clips! it was here a minute ago, remember Maud, you was admiring them, weren’t you? Angie could imagine from what actions the lady in the elegant taffeta gown was taking now that she had discovered her loss, security was probably hoofing their way over, Angie had to think quickly.

 

Not losing any of her demeanor, Angie turned causally around to watch with the rest of the nearby group as the lady was showing her sash and the remaining clip to a couple of her friends. Angie spied a brace uniformed bulls approaching. She casually turned and headed across the room, her mind whirling. she knew that the pricy clip was too hot to hold onto. She had slowly looked around as she sauntered away from the scene. Then, spotting one of the many Ladies powder rooms scattered around, she ducked into it. Angie knew from past experiences ( and a few hints from Monescu‘s phamplett) that rooms such as these had a plethora of hiding places to let “hot items” cool down..

 

She entered the room, the noise dying out as the door closed. She was alone, wait, not nearly, the room had one other occupant. Ginny was at the sink, washing her face, the bored look she had worn all evening now was replaced by deep thoughts, forlorn ones by the looks of it. On the fly Angie coolly devised a plan.

 

She walked up behind the unwary, unnoticing, fetchingly clad Ginny, and wrapped her arms round her, hugging, as she called out, Maude dear, I haven’t seen you in ages. Ginny was uncomfortably flabbergasted, and Angie felt her warm figure stiffen. She turned and Angie apologized, I am so sorry , I totally mistook you for someone else. I should have known better, Maude is not nearly as pretty .As she spoke, Angies’ fingers touched and prodded the startled girl, not allowing her to collect her wits. If Angie was hoping for a smile, she didn’t get it,. Streetwise Ginny looked at Angie hard, and scolded the thief for scaring the beezusses out of her. In a Huff Ginny left, Angie watched as Ginny’s soft gown curled around the closing door before whipping out of.

 

She was smiling to herself, for as she had hugged Ginny, she had deposited the clip in the girls green velvet purse that was laying open on the vanity. She had also in the process, tit for tat, whisked off the emeralds from around the flustered Ginny’s satin gloved wrist.

 

Not wasting any time Angie headed down the hallway where she secreted the bracelet in a nearby ash can, slipping it underneath the ½ ash filled bowl. Angie than reentered the ballroom, and went up to the orchestra’s conductor and requested a couple of waltzes, ones she knew were lengthy.

 

She then look around to make sure that she had all the principle players in her plot in sight. She spied Ginny talking with her cousin Olivia, and Celia was still searching the floor by the banquet tables. Now Maude , Maude took a little doing, but Angie spotted her chatting with a security cop. Great Angie thought, all I need to do is wait for it. “It” soon became apparent , was the start of one of the slow waltzes, and sure enough, Olivia was almost immediately scooped up and led off to the dance floor, leaving poor Ginny alone, as she had been most of the evening. Her hard disposition more than enough to keep any potential suitors at bay.

 

Angie immediately sought out Maude, a short mousey woman in a faded velvet gown wearing loads of gold chains and bangles. Angie caught her ear; feeding her a story about what she saw being placed in a certain green velvet purse. Maude’s eyes darted to where Ginny stood along a wall, and Angie saw a delicious gleam flare up in mousey Maude’s semi -be speckled green eyes.

 

**

Angie than serenely slipped back, regaining her barstool perch and waited as the developments unfolded. Maude went to the copper she had been chatting up, and they both went to Celica. The copped grabbed a partner and the group surrounded poor Ginny. Angie kept one eye on the, and the other on Olivia, who was dancing on the far side of the room, blissfully unaware of the clamor on the far wall, that was surrounding her hapless cousin Ginny.

 

Angie saw that, upon discovering what she had in her purse, they were going to arrest her and escort Ginny off the premises, exactly as Angie had planned! Angie slipped from her stool, and headed out to the lobby to await the final act in Ginny’s tragedy. Angie concealed herself in the hidden alcove, behind the small ash can where she had stashed the emerald bracelet. Just in time to witness the poor girl, struggling between the two security types, and being forcibly escorting her out. When she was sure no suspicion was coming her way, Angie lit a victory smoke, and retrieved the emeralds, stowing them away as she looked back upon the protesting Ginny, struggling as she was being ushered out the door to the waiting patrol car on the street below.

 

**

Now, Angie only had to find where that darling young Olivia, so richly clad in purple silk, had gotten her pretty little self-off too! With a suspect now in custody, and two less security bulls, Angie was free to slip back in amongst the wealthy guests in attendance at the ball. Good thing old Angie girl was a tough cookie, she contemplated, congratulating herself over not losing her head and coming out in roses, as happy with herself, she watched down the hallway. She was in no hurry; haste makes waste after all, so Angie savored her thoughts as she waited patiently to continue her mischievous habits.

Her thoughts now were trained fully on the unsuspecting, capriciously flighty , Olivia, and her dazzling diamonds.

In her minds eye she relished over several scenarios that could develop, and how to use them to her advantage, Angie exciting herself so much that she held the cigarette for a minute to lick her lips over them…

She imagined Olivia darting about, as she looked for her missing cousin, imagining, a well-placed foot on the hemline of a swirling long purple silk gown, which could yield some marvelous results.

Or perhaps Olivia could use some help looking for her cousin. Angie would then be able to discreetly help herself to some of the enticingly slippery-gowned Olivia’s dainty, but expensively fiery, diamond jewelry.

Alternatively, and best of all, and it is here where the almost purring Angie licked her lips, was a most scintillating scenario…

Angie could explain what had happened and offer to share a cab downtown with her new friend. Angie would comfort the worrying, sobbing (brought on by how Angie would describe what had happened) girl riding alongside her in the back of the bouncing cab. Angie would comfortingly stroke the warm figure encased in the richly slick, scrumptiously smooth silky gown, as she cooed words of encouragement in Olivia’s ears, Angie’s lips touching the diamond earrings dripping down from their lobes.

Then she would let Olivia go inside alone, as not to cause her cousin any further embarrassment. Then Angie would watch as Olivia hurried away, admiring the flow of her shiny gown in the light from the entranceways lamps ,and while also basking in the provocative sparkle of any remaining diamonds that Angie had not managed to spirit away during the ride down to the police station.

Angie shivered happily, as she gave one final drag on her cigarette and bent down to place it in the ash bin.

Suddenly Angie’s senses perked up, and she raised her head, shooting her gaze down the long corridor..

A lady was leaving the ballroom, unescorted, heading down the long hallway to the exit. She could tell by the quality of the long slinky gown that fell in ruffles from the hem of the long black mink she wore, and by the rings glittering from the hand that held the thick mink, that this specimen was well worth some effort. Angie rose, not yet noticed by the fur encased broad. One for the road, Angie thought to herself, bemused. The lady kept looking back, like she did not really want to leave and was afraid she would miss something exciting. That fact, along with the narrowness of the passage made for an excellent opportunity… A well place foot, and expertly placed bump, a few seconds of confusion, and the lady and Angie would part company, and Angie would have parted something else from the broad, and be a richer woman for it.

 

It was a formula that Angie had perfected and executed many profitable times. As a matter of fact, it had only been a few days prior that a young daughter, quite fetchingly (and targetable) in a pretty lavender satin and lace gown, ornamented regally with pearls and a flashy blue rhinestone tiara, had quite literally, but not accidentally, come under foot. Allowing Angie the opportunity to artfully nick the girl’s fine strand of gleaming white pearls (with a sapphire gemmed drop!) that had obligingly bounced up into Angie’s waiting fingers.

 

Angie now watched this rich lady headed towards her, with the very same thoughts in mind. But she needed to know what jewels the broad had hidden under that pricey mink. As the lady came close Angie tried to “will” her to open up. “C’mon honey, its warm, you must be burning up in that pelt, show mama what you got.” But the broad did not obligingly peel back the mink for Angie, and Angie would never know what riches may have been in the cupboard, or perhaps it had been bare, though Angie seriously doubted it. The lady reached her, shooting Angie a nervous smile. Angie smiled back, wondering if the lad realized how close she had come to being relieved of one of her fancy trinkets.

As the woman passed by, Angie watched her backside, musing to herself, Fine, I’ll just have to settle for Olivia. Angie then started down the long deserted corridor with a brisk walk, her satin dress bouncing in rhythm.

 

**

Reaching the Ballroom proper, Angie stopped and gave the room a vigilant scan for security, and as she had figured, it definitely had loosened up. She then searched in earnest for the young miss clad in her expensive purple silk “tickling gown”( see addendum rr). The naïve young thing had been ever so carelessly displaying those delectably exquisite diamonds of hers with such reckless abandon that it would be a wonder if she still possessed all of them. It will be a wonder if she still does after meeting me, Angie mused. She almost was purring in anticipation as she thought about those diamonds, especially the long necklace and the way it had flung from side to side as the girl had walked past Angie the first time that evening(and several more since). Angie envisioned the diamonded box clasp at the back of her bare neck (long hair was high in a bun) that held the necklace around her neck, for now! She hoped that Olivia had not removed her shiny hairpiece to let her long hair down, Angie prayed, it would make things so much the easier.

 

As Angie thought about this she slowly edged her way along the wall, dodging in and out amongst the happily chatting guest, constantly on the lookout for Olivia.

 

Angie was suddenly, unexpectedly blindsided from behind as something incredibly soft, slickly bumped up against her back. Like a cat, she kept her feet and whirled around in time to catch a handful of pure heaven in the form of one of the be- gowned young “princesses” that seemed to be everywhere this gay evening. She found herself nose to eye with a young miss, resplendent in a long slippery gown as black as ink, and as soft as young chinchilla. The sleek gown literally poured tightly down along her perked figure to the floor, covering over her shiny black high heels. The colour of night that was her gown was broken only by the whiteness of her bare shoulders and neck, and by an exquisitely large, leaf like brooch of clear diamond banquets that covered her right side at least 8 inches above and below her slender waistline.

 

The young “princess” giggled nervously as she profusely apologized over her “silliness” at tripping over her own gown as she had stepped backwards. Angie oozed kindness as she spoke soothingly to the girl, watching her melt like putty in Angie’s light fingered hands. As Angie spoke calmingly to the girl, her eyes were indiscreetly soaking up the dazzling white diamond necklace that surrounded the nervous girl’s bare white throat that was now eye level to Angie. .Angie looked down at the girls gloved hand resting upon her full bosom , admiring the softness of the satin gloves (dyed to match her gown) that stretched up past her elbows, drooling secretly over the enormous cocktail ring that graced one of her fingers. The princess raised up her hands, giving them to Angie, who took up the satin clad hands, holding them as tightly as she was holding the girls gaze, before letting the girl slowly slip them from her firm grasp., .

  

The girls eyes finally broke away, and Angie smiled exuberantly, giving the girl an enveloping hug to show there were no hard feelings, letting her hands slip ever so gingerly down to grasp the girl by the waist, giving her a squeeze. She then let the young thing slip out, free to go on her way, as Angie turned and did likewise. As Angie sauntered off, she happily thought that it was sometimes funny how occasionally, when least expected, one gets very lucky. As she thought this, she moved her clenched fist to the top of her dress. Pulling the dress out, she dropped down her cleavage the rather large, expensively glittering , diamond brooch she had so carefully slipped from the rather ditsy young ”princess” black satin clad waist. The damsel had not so much felt a prick when Angie had lifted the jewel, snapped the clasp open, and slipped it from her figure as her hands had squeezed her scintillatingly soft waist. She now felt it wonderfully slip down, joining Ginny’s purloined bracelet already resting securely there. Angie stole a careful look back over her shoulder.

 

The clueless young” Princess” was now happily dancing away with a tuxedoed young man. Her handsome partner, with a neatly trimmed beard, had one white gloved hand holding up her hand in black satin, the enormous cocktail ring shining out like some richly coloured beacon ; the other white gloved hand lay upon her back, mere inches away from the simple hook in eye clasp of the necklace of white diamonds. Angie drooled, how she would have liked to have had her hands in either of the positions that the man’s were now laid. Taking the ring and necklace would have been a piece of cake. Angie did sometimes secretly envy men, who could get close to jewel-laden ladies in ways that Angie could not! Angie imagined these wicked thoughts to herself as she allowed herself to be mesmerized by the blaze of fiery diamonds that for the time being, were still wrapped around the “princess’s” slender white throat.

 

Angie was not worried about the young lady raising a squawk over a missing brooch. Clumsy Dames like her were used to having jewelry misplaced. Angie wondered if they ever realized how many times those jewels were not misplaced, but stolen by light fingered thieves who, like Angie, knew all too well how to read the signs and reap the rewards. If only she had had time to be better prepared, she sighed, turning her attention reluctantly away from the diamonds.

Angie moved off, filled with the confidence that the tides of her fortune had turned for the better. Rounding a corner Angie spied Celia off to one side, and toyed with the idea of slipping off her remaining diamond clip now that Maud was still chatting up one of the Guards (another one out of commission!) Then, for a split second, on the other side of the room, she saw the silky wisp of purple that singled out her prey. Now, down to business she said, licking her lips. With a cat like gleam in her eyes, she swiftly stole into the crowd of dancing couples. Soon she was lost to sight, swept up in a rainbow coloured sea of slinky swirling gowns.

 

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Addendum rr (excerpted from :Cutpurse: skilles, artes and Secretes of the Dip by “Gaston Monescu, 1826”)

A perfect tickle thief setup, as Angie renamed it, was a ploy for use on a lady “waering a long gown or skirtes” that was easily trip able, when a foot stepped on it from behind, sometimes added with a soft nudge, sending the wearer tumbling. Ones fingers, in the process of steading or helping would glide(tickling) over the material ( the sleeker the better) to reach and pluck free the fair ladies’ targeted bauble.

 

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Interested in reading more about the shenanigans of Angie?

Then Check out the following albums:

Angie Picks Chicago

Angie being Receptive

Angie being chartable

Angie at Play

Angie Trick Or Treat( coming soon)

  

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Courtesy of Chatwick University Archives

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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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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

 

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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…..

 

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

  

Looking like the perfect set piece for a John Updike novel, this Watergate-era T-bird is kept in beautiful shape by somebody but never seems to move. The similarly grand house is similarly picturesque but silent.

 

For 1972 Ford mated the Thunderbird with the Lincoln Continental MKIV, and for the first time since 1951, a Lincoln product shared a great deal with one of the blue oval's more workaday brands. But there wasn't much that was workaday about this generation of Thunderbird - the biggest and longest T-bird ever and one which also aspired to be the plushest. By 1974, with the addition of impact bumpers, the T-bird was over 4,800 lbs. and 225 inches of opulence.

 

Inside, some of the more detailed and luxurious trim of the prior generation had given way to pieces that were easier and cheaper to produce, but on the surface things seemed just as luxurious. The related Lincoln was, by then, a $10,000+ machine, with the Thunderbird a relative bargain at $7,700 - a sum which could buy a very modest house in 1974.

 

That price meant that the T-bird, which had kicked off the "Personal/Luxury Car" concept in 1958, was now appreciably more expensive than many of the imitators and competitors that had grown up around it - including direct competitors like the Buick Riviera. Ford even created a smaller luxury coupe based on the Torino - the Torino Elite - to compete with the lower priced (and generally mid-size) competitors like the Chevrolet Monte Carlo.

 

Although bigger still meant better when this Thunderbird was introduced (and indeed, for an older generation of customers this would never change), the first OPEC crisis put a big dent in this generation of Thunderbird, with sales dropping by more than 30% for 1974 and ultimately leading to the T-bird's downsizing in 1977. Even for big luxury cars, it was hard to argue the practicality of a car this large that was functionally a 2+2 with a limited trunk, and no Ford coupe, save the big LTD 2-door sedan offered through 1978, would ever approach it for size again. Lincoln, on the other hand, would go to the opposite direction and grow the Continental MKIV to 233 inches in length (but a lighter 4,500 lbs.) for 1977.

 

Both Ford's approach with the smaller T-bird and Lincoln's approach with the bigger MKV were highly successful - but that had more to do with the market's appetite for such cars than the specifics of each design. In 1980, both were downsized, but neither the T-bird nor the Mark ever enjoyed such broad appeal afterward, as coupes declined in favor of SUVs, trucks, and as baby boomers had families, Minivans.

 

©2016 A. Kwanten.

   

Image of “Angie” first appeared : Best true detective cover July 1962

The story of the racket dames behind the sensational Park Avenue Jewel Robberies

 

*****

This is a link to a You Tube Video of a thief not unlike our Angie.

youtu.be/HAZdjhNVjxk

*********

  

Title: Now, if only she could find where that darling young miss, the one so richly clad in purple silk, had gotten her pretty little self-off too?

 

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

Name: Angelica D circa 1933

Subject: an unscrupulous light-fingered body thief

Place: Resolution Ball - Baltimore (original incarnation)

Time: Evening, through early morning, of the dance

  

Story line:

 

Angie grinned, stowing away the emerald bracelet, as she smugly watched the police dragging away the struggling girl. Lit cigarette dangling from a corner of her lip; Angie smirked wickedly to herself as Ginny frantically tried to plead her innocence.

**

One of the coppers had her by the wrists; the other tried gripping her waist, finding it slippery by the satiny gown she was wearing. Ginny was pleading, it was not me, I don’t know how it got there, please let me go, my emeralds, my bracelet… its…its..I gone! I must find it, shrieked the struggling girl. Angie just listened to the girl, ginning; Ginny’s tearful words, spoken in her brash nasally east ender accent, wasn’t helping her cause with the pre-judgmental coppers.

 

One of them snarled loudly into her ear, ere ,you aint the kind to wear emeralds sister, we’ve got your number, it was her diamonds youse was after.

 

Actually, she had, Angie admitted to herself wickedly. Yes, dear Ginny had been wearing an emerald bracelet, the one Angie now had tucked securely away. Nevertheless, she chose not to enlighten the harness bulls on the matter, and smugly watched as the small group disappeared through the entrance, heading down to the eastside patrol car waiting at the street, as she let a wisp of cigarette smoke curl upwards from her sneering lips.

**

So it was now, with the emeralds safely tucked away, that Angie turned he back to the main door to watch down the long corridor as she continued puffing on her victory smoke. At the end of the hallway was the main entrance to the cavernous Ballroom where all action had all taken place leading up to poor Ginny’s arrest.

 

With a suspect now in custody, and two less security bulls, Angie was free to slip back in amongst the wealthy guests in attendance at the ball. Now, if only she could find where that darling young miss, the one so richly clad in purple silk, had gotten her pretty little self-off too! She shivered deliciously at the mere thought of it. However, she decided to take her time finishing her cigarette, give things ample time to cool down, as she marveled at the opulence that seemed to bleed from every square inch of the Baltimore Palace this evening.

 

How Angie savored attending events held here, and visited the Baltimore area Ballroom several times whenever she was in town on “business”. The lighting, modern for the day, seemed to coax any piece of jewelry to sparkle. Making it ever so easy to focus on even the smallest (and sometimes most expensive) piece a fashionably dressed female would be wearing.

**

For you see, Angie was a master pickpocket, who, with the discovery and subsequent aid of a pamphlet written in the early 1800’s, was able to take her game to the next, more profitable level...

 

See Album: Angie Picks Chicago for the story of how she discovered the phamplette.

 

Entitled the Cutpurse: skilles, artes and Secretes of the Dip by “Gaston Monescu, 1826”, it covered the various tactics and moves used by master pickpockets of the time, Including whole chapters on successful “Methodes” of relieving a well-dressed lady of her” jeweles”.

 

Angie had nimbly crafted a new art form of relieving wealthy women and rich girls of their valuable jewelry. She performed this feat by combining the tactics of an illusionist, with the delicate touch of “The Dip” ; Employing this method to nick the fiery sparklers while still warm from the unwary, usually be-gowned , figures ostentatiously displaying them!

**

Angie began to reflect on how the ballroom had looked when she had first entered some three hours previously. She had been eagerly anticipating the opportunities in store for her inside, and she was not disappointed in the very least. The place was packed wall to wall with guests dressed in their dapper nines for the annual event.

 

Like a kid in a candy shop, Angie had eagerly looked over the crowd, admiring the shiny, flowing gowns the female guests were wearing. Selecting and keenly observing dresses made of the richest, most form fitting material, for by long experience, these women wearing them would bring the most profit. By employing this method to narrow the field of selections, Angie was able to quickly to pinpoint on a piece of jewelry, make her move, and be gone before giving any security patrolling the area a chance to recognize her for what she was. It sometimes was as easy as taking candy from a baby, or as Angie like to imagine it, relieving a satin and lace clad innocent of her “silver spoon”

 

Angie than eagerly looked over the jewels of those she had chosen, vividly glittering their colourful joy at being brought out of the vault and worn for this evening’s festivities. She had been quite hard pressed to make a selection, so for the first 30 minutes or so, Angie just mingled about, following her whimsy.

 

Then she spotted Olivia. Elegant in a long slick purple gown of luxurious silk that flowed and moved tightly along her shapely figure as she flitted about, presenting the very picture of a tickle thief’s dream ( see addendum rr).. Young, flighty and loaded with beckoning diamonds, Angie began to stalk her in ever decreasing circles, hunting her slowly, deliberately, much as a snake in the grass would a tiny unsuspecting mouse. However, all too soon, Angie realized that this mouse was being watched over by someone else, like a hawk.

 

The hawks name was Ginny. Lower east end, rough as her cousin Olivia was polished, awkward in one of her cousins borrowed long satin gowns, she watched protectively over her mingling cousin from the sidelines, totally out of her element, ill-fitting right down to the only jewelry she wore, a shimmering elegant emerald bracelet that was obviously borrowed( probably from Olivia) . Angie weighed the consequences of an attempt on Olivia’s diamonds, deciding that there was plenty of less guarded prey, and so Angie reluctantly decided to let go of the scent.

**

It was not much later that Angie, from her new perch at one of the twin bars that lined opposite sides of the room, found herself eyeing a most interesting subject. She rose and began trailing behind the swishing gown of her new prospect. The fine taffeta gown was spilling down along the still voluptuous, if not a little pudgy, figure of an older, matronly looking lady with long hair of faded gold. Her longish hair was home to a glittering Diamond Head band, from which shimmering strings of diamonds were entertained in her still silky soft hair.

 

The lady stopped to chat with two other finely decked out women, giving Angie a chance to circle and leisurely eyeball, head to foot, these unsuspecting ladies baubles. Angie felt her heart rate quicken with delight at what she saw.. Now, older women could be a little bit trickier since they were more likely to notice quicker the disappearance of often worn jewelry, as opposed to younger ladies or girls were not yet used to wearing fine jewelry adorning their squirming figures. Nevertheless, Angie spied something that should even the playing field a bit, so to speak, making this wealthy lady a fairly less risky prospect…

 

Now, Monescu‘s pamphlet had a little side Chapter on how ladies would sooner think jewels were lost as to believe they had been stolen from them (pickpockets only go after wallets and hankies, my dear, everyone knows that!) . To this end, losing one of a pair, like an earring, or clips, is a safe bet, especially if one desires to tempt fate and remain in the area to try for a second piece, like the brooch one of her friends was wearing.

 

And the lady Angie was ogling was wearing a pair of twin diamond and ruby clips, one on each side of the wide shiny sash that encircled her waist. Taking one of her jeweled clips should be as easy as slipping candy away from the side of a silken clad baby. Which in a fashion, Angie had actually done, once long ago, coming across a small group of wedding attired young girls playing alone at a playground, whose chaperones had obligingly wandered off for a bit. But, when Angie had left the chirpy little group to continue their game of (appropriately enough) cops n robbers, It had definitely not been the gullible young ladies candy that walked off along with her!

 

(See album, Angie at play, for the full story)

  

Angie’s full attention was now focused on the two wave shaped clips as the pair fired glittering salvos of flickering rainbow-like colures with each elegant movement their mistress made. Patiently Angie stalked from a distance, awaiting her chance. It came soon enough, when the Hors d’oeuvres were put out, and the clips, along with their mistress, headed with the other multitudes of guests to the long banquet tables. As they formed a line, Angie managed to wedge herself in between the lines, effectively cutting off her victim, who bumped against Angie.

 

Angie’s left hand slipped in and snaked along the satin sash, feeling once again the deliciously tingling ling chill she always experienced when her fingers first rubbed against the warm scintillating material of a luscious gown as she dipped in to steal the selected jewel.. This time was no different as her slender fingers located the first of the clips ; lifting it up, and nimbly flicked open the clasp( it was amazing how jewelers skimped on clasps when making upper end jewels), at the same time her right hand slithered up the slick taffeta backside of her victims gown. Reaching underneath an armpit, her fingernails dug in, distracting her victim as to the nefarious activity happening at her waist. The lady was knocked slightly off balance, and anyone else who saw the pair had their eyes focused their faces, and not on any handiwork occurring with the hands below sight.

 

Angie apologized profusely in her softest most innocent voice. Petting down the ladies backside as she did so with her right hand, while her left plucked the clip from her sash and palmed the jewel and slipped behind her back. It was over in seconds, merely someone trying to cut the line, and Angie made her escaped receiving a few clucks of the tongue from one of the ladies’ friend as the lady caught up to them. Angie just smiled at them winningly, her hand still behind her back. As she smiled, Angie slipped the diamond clip down inside her sash before turning away and heading off.

 

It had all come off quite easily, and Angie was congratulating herself, when suddenly a voice behind her pronounced, quite loud and clear, oh my gwad Ceclia, you’ve lost a brooch. Diamond clip Angie correctly the lady silently to herself. She did not turn, but kept on moving, even slowing her pace a bit. From the same area she heard Celica gasp. Me clip, I’ve lost one of me diamond clips! it was here a minute ago, remember Maud, you was admiring them, weren’t you? Angie could imagine from what actions the lady in the elegant taffeta gown was taking now that she had discovered her loss, security was probably hoofing their way over, Angie had to think quickly.

 

Not losing any of her demeanor, Angie turned causally around to watch with the rest of the nearby group as the lady was showing her sash and the remaining clip to a couple of her friends. Angie spied a brace uniformed bulls approaching. She casually turned and headed across the room, her mind whirling. she knew that the pricy clip was too hot to hold onto. She had slowly looked around as she sauntered away from the scene. Then, spotting one of the many Ladies powder rooms scattered around, she ducked into it. Angie knew from past experiences ( and a few hints from Monescu‘s phamplett) that rooms such as these had a plethora of hiding places to let “hot items” cool down..

 

She entered the room, the noise dying out as the door closed. She was alone, wait, not nearly, the room had one other occupant. Ginny was at the sink, washing her face, the bored look she had worn all evening now was replaced by deep thoughts, forlorn ones by the looks of it. On the fly Angie coolly devised a plan.

 

She walked up behind the unwary, unnoticing, fetchingly clad Ginny, and wrapped her arms round her, hugging, as she called out, Maude dear, I haven’t seen you in ages. Ginny was uncomfortably flabbergasted, and Angie felt her warm figure stiffen. She turned and Angie apologized, I am so sorry , I totally mistook you for someone else. I should have known better, Maude is not nearly as pretty .As she spoke, Angies’ fingers touched and prodded the startled girl, not allowing her to collect her wits. If Angie was hoping for a smile, she didn’t get it,. Streetwise Ginny looked at Angie hard, and scolded the thief for scaring the beezusses out of her. In a Huff Ginny left, Angie watched as Ginny’s soft gown curled around the closing door before whipping out of.

 

She was smiling to herself, for as she had hugged Ginny, she had deposited the clip in the girls green velvet purse that was laying open on the vanity. She had also in the process, tit for tat, whisked off the emeralds from around the flustered Ginny’s satin gloved wrist.

 

Not wasting any time Angie headed down the hallway where she secreted the bracelet in a nearby ash can, slipping it underneath the ½ ash filled bowl. Angie than reentered the ballroom, and went up to the orchestra’s conductor and requested a couple of waltzes, ones she knew were lengthy.

 

She then look around to make sure that she had all the principle players in her plot in sight. She spied Ginny talking with her cousin Olivia, and Celia was still searching the floor by the banquet tables. Now Maude , Maude took a little doing, but Angie spotted her chatting with a security cop. Great Angie thought, all I need to do is wait for it. “It” soon became apparent , was the start of one of the slow waltzes, and sure enough, Olivia was almost immediately scooped up and led off to the dance floor, leaving poor Ginny alone, as she had been most of the evening. Her hard disposition more than enough to keep any potential suitors at bay.

 

Angie immediately sought out Maude, a short mousey woman in a faded velvet gown wearing loads of gold chains and bangles. Angie caught her ear; feeding her a story about what she saw being placed in a certain green velvet purse. Maude’s eyes darted to where Ginny stood along a wall, and Angie saw a delicious gleam flare up in mousey Maude’s semi -be speckled green eyes.

 

**

Angie than serenely slipped back, regaining her barstool perch and waited as the developments unfolded. Maude went to the copper she had been chatting up, and they both went to Celica. The copped grabbed a partner and the group surrounded poor Ginny. Angie kept one eye on the, and the other on Olivia, who was dancing on the far side of the room, blissfully unaware of the clamor on the far wall, that was surrounding her hapless cousin Ginny.

 

Angie saw that, upon discovering what she had in her purse, they were going to arrest her and escort Ginny off the premises, exactly as Angie had planned! Angie slipped from her stool, and headed out to the lobby to await the final act in Ginny’s tragedy. Angie concealed herself in the hidden alcove, behind the small ash can where she had stashed the emerald bracelet. Just in time to witness the poor girl, struggling between the two security types, and being forcibly escorting her out. When she was sure no suspicion was coming her way, Angie lit a victory smoke, and retrieved the emeralds, stowing them away as she looked back upon the protesting Ginny, struggling as she was being ushered out the door to the waiting patrol car on the street below.

 

**

Now, Angie only had to find where that darling young Olivia, so richly clad in purple silk, had gotten her pretty little self-off too! With a suspect now in custody, and two less security bulls, Angie was free to slip back in amongst the wealthy guests in attendance at the ball. Good thing old Angie girl was a tough cookie, she contemplated, congratulating herself over not losing her head and coming out in roses, as happy with herself, she watched down the hallway. She was in no hurry; haste makes waste after all, so Angie savored her thoughts as she waited patiently to continue her mischievous habits.

Her thoughts now were trained fully on the unsuspecting, capriciously flighty , Olivia, and her dazzling diamonds.

In her minds eye she relished over several scenarios that could develop, and how to use them to her advantage, Angie exciting herself so much that she held the cigarette for a minute to lick her lips over them…

She imagined Olivia darting about, as she looked for her missing cousin, imagining, a well-placed foot on the hemline of a swirling long purple silk gown, which could yield some marvelous results.

Or perhaps Olivia could use some help looking for her cousin. Angie would then be able to discreetly help herself to some of the enticingly slippery-gowned Olivia’s dainty, but expensively fiery, diamond jewelry.

Alternatively, and best of all, and it is here where the almost purring Angie licked her lips, was a most scintillating scenario…

Angie could explain what had happened and offer to share a cab downtown with her new friend. Angie would comfort the worrying, sobbing (brought on by how Angie would describe what had happened) girl riding alongside her in the back of the bouncing cab. Angie would comfortingly stroke the warm figure encased in the richly slick, scrumptiously smooth silky gown, as she cooed words of encouragement in Olivia’s ears, Angie’s lips touching the diamond earrings dripping down from their lobes.

Then she would let Olivia go inside alone, as not to cause her cousin any further embarrassment. Then Angie would watch as Olivia hurried away, admiring the flow of her shiny gown in the light from the entranceways lamps ,and while also basking in the provocative sparkle of any remaining diamonds that Angie had not managed to spirit away during the ride down to the police station.

Angie shivered happily, as she gave one final drag on her cigarette and bent down to place it in the ash bin.

Suddenly Angie’s senses perked up, and she raised her head, shooting her gaze down the long corridor..

A lady was leaving the ballroom, unescorted, heading down the long hallway to the exit. She could tell by the quality of the long slinky gown that fell in ruffles from the hem of the long black mink she wore, and by the rings glittering from the hand that held the thick mink, that this specimen was well worth some effort. Angie rose, not yet noticed by the fur encased broad. One for the road, Angie thought to herself, bemused. The lady kept looking back, like she did not really want to leave and was afraid she would miss something exciting. That fact, along with the narrowness of the passage made for an excellent opportunity… A well place foot, and expertly placed bump, a few seconds of confusion, and the lady and Angie would part company, and Angie would have parted something else from the broad, and be a richer woman for it.

 

It was a formula that Angie had perfected and executed many profitable times. As a matter of fact, it had only been a few days prior that a young daughter, quite fetchingly (and targetable) in a pretty lavender satin and lace gown, ornamented regally with pearls and a flashy blue rhinestone tiara, had quite literally, but not accidentally, come under foot. Allowing Angie the opportunity to artfully nick the girl’s fine strand of gleaming white pearls (with a sapphire gemmed drop!) that had obligingly bounced up into Angie’s waiting fingers.

 

Angie now watched this rich lady headed towards her, with the very same thoughts in mind. But she needed to know what jewels the broad had hidden under that pricey mink. As the lady came close Angie tried to “will” her to open up. “C’mon honey, its warm, you must be burning up in that pelt, show mama what you got.” But the broad did not obligingly peel back the mink for Angie, and Angie would never know what riches may have been in the cupboard, or perhaps it had been bare, though Angie seriously doubted it. The lady reached her, shooting Angie a nervous smile. Angie smiled back, wondering if the lad realized how close she had come to being relieved of one of her fancy trinkets.

As the woman passed by, Angie watched her backside, musing to herself, Fine, I’ll just have to settle for Olivia. Angie then started down the long deserted corridor with a brisk walk, her satin dress bouncing in rhythm.

 

**

Reaching the Ballroom proper, Angie stopped and gave the room a vigilant scan for security, and as she had figured, it definitely had loosened up. She then searched in earnest for the young miss clad in her expensive purple silk “tickling gown”( see addendum rr). The naïve young thing had been ever so carelessly displaying those delectably exquisite diamonds of hers with such reckless abandon that it would be a wonder if she still possessed all of them. It will be a wonder if she still does after meeting me, Angie mused. She almost was purring in anticipation as she thought about those diamonds, especially the long necklace and the way it had flung from side to side as the girl had walked past Angie the first time that evening(and several more since). Angie envisioned the diamonded box clasp at the back of her bare neck (long hair was high in a bun) that held the necklace around her neck, for now! She hoped that Olivia had not removed her shiny hairpiece to let her long hair down, Angie prayed, it would make things so much the easier.

 

As Angie thought about this she slowly edged her way along the wall, dodging in and out amongst the happily chatting guest, constantly on the lookout for Olivia.

 

Angie was suddenly, unexpectedly blindsided from behind as something incredibly soft, slickly bumped up against her back. Like a cat, she kept her feet and whirled around in time to catch a handful of pure heaven in the form of one of the be- gowned young “princesses” that seemed to be everywhere this gay evening. She found herself nose to eye with a young miss, resplendent in a long slippery gown as black as ink, and as soft as young chinchilla. The sleek gown literally poured tightly down along her perked figure to the floor, covering over her shiny black high heels. The colour of night that was her gown was broken only by the whiteness of her bare shoulders and neck, and by an exquisitely large, leaf like brooch of clear diamond banquets that covered her right side at least 8 inches above and below her slender waistline.

 

The young “princess” giggled nervously as she profusely apologized over her “silliness” at tripping over her own gown as she had stepped backwards. Angie oozed kindness as she spoke soothingly to the girl, watching her melt like putty in Angie’s light fingered hands. As Angie spoke calmingly to the girl, her eyes were indiscreetly soaking up the dazzling white diamond necklace that surrounded the nervous girl’s bare white throat that was now eye level to Angie. .Angie looked down at the girls gloved hand resting upon her full bosom , admiring the softness of the satin gloves (dyed to match her gown) that stretched up past her elbows, drooling secretly over the enormous cocktail ring that graced one of her fingers. The princess raised up her hands, giving them to Angie, who took up the satin clad hands, holding them as tightly as she was holding the girls gaze, before letting the girl slowly slip them from her firm grasp., .

  

The girls eyes finally broke away, and Angie smiled exuberantly, giving the girl an enveloping hug to show there were no hard feelings, letting her hands slip ever so gingerly down to grasp the girl by the waist, giving her a squeeze. She then let the young thing slip out, free to go on her way, as Angie turned and did likewise. As Angie sauntered off, she happily thought that it was sometimes funny how occasionally, when least expected, one gets very lucky. As she thought this, she moved her clenched fist to the top of her dress. Pulling the dress out, she dropped down her cleavage the rather large, expensively glittering , diamond brooch she had so carefully slipped from the rather ditsy young ”princess” black satin clad waist. The damsel had not so much felt a prick when Angie had lifted the jewel, snapped the clasp open, and slipped it from her figure as her hands had squeezed her scintillatingly soft waist. She now felt it wonderfully slip down, joining Ginny’s purloined bracelet already resting securely there. Angie stole a careful look back over her shoulder.

 

The clueless young” Princess” was now happily dancing away with a tuxedoed young man. Her handsome partner, with a neatly trimmed beard, had one white gloved hand holding up her hand in black satin, the enormous cocktail ring shining out like some richly coloured beacon ; the other white gloved hand lay upon her back, mere inches away from the simple hook in eye clasp of the necklace of white diamonds. Angie drooled, how she would have liked to have had her hands in either of the positions that the man’s were now laid. Taking the ring and necklace would have been a piece of cake. Angie did sometimes secretly envy men, who could get close to jewel-laden ladies in ways that Angie could not! Angie imagined these wicked thoughts to herself as she allowed herself to be mesmerized by the blaze of fiery diamonds that for the time being, were still wrapped around the “princess’s” slender white throat.

 

Angie was not worried about the young lady raising a squawk over a missing brooch. Clumsy Dames like her were used to having jewelry misplaced. Angie wondered if they ever realized how many times those jewels were not misplaced, but stolen by light fingered thieves who, like Angie, knew all too well how to read the signs and reap the rewards. If only she had had time to be better prepared, she sighed, turning her attention reluctantly away from the diamonds.

 

Angie moved off, filled with the confidence that the tides of her fortune had turned for the better. Rounding a corner Angie spied Celia off to one side, and toyed with the idea of slipping off her remaining diamond clip now that Maud was still chatting up one of the Guards (another one out of commission!) Then, for a split second, on the other side of the room, she saw the silky wisp of purple that singled out her prey. Now, down to business she said, licking her lips. With a cat like gleam in her eyes, she swiftly stole into the crowd of dancing couples. Soon she was lost to sight, swept up in a rainbow coloured sea of slinky swirling gowns.

 

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Addendum rr (excerpted from :Cutpurse: skilles, artes and Secretes of the Dip by “Gaston Monescu, 1826”)

A perfect tickle thief setup, as Angie renamed it, was a ploy for use on a lady “waering a long gown or skirtes” that was easily trip able, when a foot stepped on it from behind, sometimes added with a soft nudge, sending the wearer tumbling. Ones fingers, in the process of steading or helping would glide(tickling) over the material ( the sleeker the better) to reach and pluck free the fair ladies’ targeted bauble.

 

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Interested in reading more about the shenanigans of Angie?

Then Check out the following albums:

Angie Picks Chicago

Angie being Receptive

Angie being chartable

Angie at Play

Angie Trick Or Treat( coming soon)

  

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Courtesy of Chatwick University Archives

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But it isn’t over.

 

My armour damaged, my nose bleeds....yet I still stand firmly. Friends around me may have fallen, but I feel the electricity surging through my veins.

 

Then Igarashi stands up as well, his face heavily scarred. He tries to use his “powers” on me, but he fails to do so when I’ve finally got a hold—as I shock him right on the spot. It's over for him. Connor, covered in dust and grime, rises but behind him, knocking Igarashi on his feet.

 

Now the student looms over his defeated sensei, huh, well played. I couldn’t be more glad to see him alive, my older brother. He was holding a staff, despite the rough, scarred edges, in his left hand, and the katana on his right. Even if I can't see through his mask, I could picture how his eyes would look like, being ready to execute him right away.

 

Connor: “This is over, Igarashi. You’ve used up your powers, and it’s out of your reach for the katana to be understood. This is a relic to be respected. Worse yet, you lied to us far too long. You have committed so much heinous crimes for too long. Ambition for power and all that... ”

Igarashi: “Yes—-young one.....yes! I conspired against you....because possessing the sword meant I would ascend to the highest rank of the crime families! I wanted more power....the ability of a superhuman.....but you had to stop me! You have given yourself to the cause of your family and friends more than us!”

Connor: “Unfortunately you misused it, and that’s not how it works. Abusing the greatest thing the guild ever stood for: honour. I’m sorry, but you’re going to—“

Igarashi: “Die?! Fine, go ahead and kill me! Do not forget who trained you? Who raised you to become the man today?!”

Oddcrow: “Wait! Cease your fighting at one! Dusksmoke, you’re not going to kill your sensei! I only did my part to protect you....I thought sacrifice was a way out.”

Connor: “Yes. But I’m holding back. People like him don’t deserve death like this, despite the actions he’s done. But he did have a hand in raising me. I guess I’m going to call it fair. In fact, you’re the one to make a choice. Because you’re going to be the next leader. You were my sensei after all. This isn’t a matter of his nationality or race, but I believe you have potential and true leadership. My fellow guild, would you agree?”

Assassins: “Yes. We vote in favour. He....is our new leader.”

Oddcrow: “Alright. He’ll be exiled. To an island where he will be spending the rest of his life. Take him away.”

Igarashi: "Wait--no, you can't do this! You will regret this! I will come back! I will have more power, and I will wield the katana however I see fit! Dusksmoke, you will pay!"

Connor: "No, you won't. I'll make you won't see the light of day if you try to ever make a return. Your last days and fate will be a collective judgement. Send him off, please."

 

***

Oddcrow: “Well, I guess this isn’t too bad after all, from a schoolteacher to a guild master....”

Dustsmmoke: “Nah, it’s good. You ever seen a cybernetic warrior going around doing stuff? That’s what I did....I saved children. From the Spectres.”

Oddcrow: “All these years, we were mistaken on the wars from the outsiders. However with Connor’s faith, he managed to bring us together. To shape a better guild. Because we’re not killers, exactly.”

Ty: “That’s honourable.”

Erin: “Yes. And will his old classmates and best friends, I can't wait for our big reunion”

Ty: “Glad to know you’ve got my back, like Avalon does.”

Sam: “This is where we’re leaving off, are we? To save the day again!”

Edens: "Well, I can't exactly leave you hanging at the end of every mission like that, fill the paperworks and---

Riley/Jesse: “C’mon Doc, at least give us the holiday back!”

Edens: “Right, right....vacation continues. No disruptions. Only if it's emergency. Two weeks, sound good?”

Kieran: “Let’s call for a celebration. Let's cheer ”

Oddcrow: “You are granted an extended stay in Japan. Go anywhere you want, how about that too? For Avalon, you are deemed worthy and you can come whenever you please. You have gained our trust. We are in your debt and would be gladly to call you allies.”

Edens: "For sure, we have your word. Now we gotta...clean up a bit before alerting the agency."

Harry: "Well, least to say I'm done killin' anyone for the night."

 

***2 days later, at Edens' Japanese penthouse:***

 

Ty: “Maybe I could take a look at the ancestry books, considering I’ve got my heritage here.”

Erin: “I’m sure you’ll love finding them here, Shiro.”

Ty: “Since when did you start calling me that again? Oh, and yeah, maybe I could bring gran and mom here one day...maybe even my sister.”

Erin: “Sure, family’s fun. I don’t know. Maybe since the first day? I had a big crush on you when we got to elementary. I think's it's cute.”

Ty: “That’s....makes sense. I knew I laid eyes on you since we met. I love you, Erinbug.”

Erin: “I love you, too, Ty.”

Connor: “Ahem, good chemistry, you two. I knew that’s why I aced every test in science class. Sensed it in the air around me. Couldn’t hold back before you wanna kiss, cuz I had to bring the gang back together like a glue.”

Erin: "I remember how you liked me for a while before it ended up a wingman for him."

Connor: "I was very helpful wasn't I? Crush turned into one of the best friendship. I helped you get notes for him. You know, just anything to impress. Ty, I helped both of you. Give me some credit."

Ty: “Very funny. You sound just like your brother.”

Jesse: “Well, Arden genes, hermano! Except for the fact when the other team’s gone around town. Gary and the ladies are going crazy at shopping, man.”

Edens: “Well, it seems like this is definitely elementary reunion after all. I got a question stuck in my head since then....have you actually considered it yet, Dusksmoke? On our offer?”

Connor: “Oh, on that? l’ve thought it through. Oddcrow’s a better leader than I am. Though for me, I could work solo even if there’s nowhere to go....and my friend’s still in hospital.”

Jesse: “We’ve got a spot up for you if you need it.”

Sam: “Could always lend a hand in Japanese weapon mastery and those herbs of yours, so I can work on medical stuff with Kurt and co.”

Connor: “Hmm, that’d be interesting.”

Ty: “You’ve proven yourself too, earned a worthy spot. Avalon deserves a sixth member just like Gamma....turns out it might be you now, Connor. Which makes you 11, sort of.”

Connor: “I’m game. This is might fight now, since guild stuff is gonna have to reform and change in time. Guess I do have a lot to catch up in what you guys do, eh? Wait, is that Agent Khattar?”

Khattar: “In the flesh, agents. I’m sorry if I’m interrupting a nice reunion, but I’m here to announce I’m officially in on the Paladin stuff.”

Edens: “Just before you all get surprised, Navin’s now a partner with Paladin. He might belong to Interpol, but we secretly had an agreement to benefit conditions on our terms. Again, I'm sh*t at keeping it secret.”

Harry: “Though the boards would never agree...I’ll still play it through. Cheers.”

Khattar: “Cheers to you too. I’m sure it is going to be fine, a promise is a promise—-it’ll be confidential. I trust all of you given your defense in Tokyo and the countries you hopped on fighting. But as I suspected, that there are bigger hands behind what we’re looking at. They might be planning something....and your business friend is in danger.”

Edens: “Mason? He’s doing fine....but he’s been strange as always.”

Khattar: “Then you’ll have to keep an eye on him. For now, I will leave you guys be. Have fun! And also, Dusksmoke, your friend is doing alive and well. Go check up on her when you have the time.”

 

***

 

Board member: “And he’s officiated? Wonderful. For this event, I will not hold regard or remorse, but you should have let us know, Remus."

Edens: “Yes. Dusksmoke was always one of ours. He’s been playing the mole this whole time.

Raze: “Pfft, fine. You have it off easy this time since it's the Paladin council deciding together. But I will not tolerate your secrets being kept from us, privately and personally as a high ranking official. There will be no next times. You know what the

consequences, don’t you Avalon?”

Ty: “Of course. I’m proud to lead this team, ma'am.”

Raze: “And the Interpol agent....he’s an ally too?”

Erin: “Precisely.”

Raze: “What about the sword?”

Harry: “In the care of the guild. We know who the White Ninja is....will send in the details later.”

Sam: “But yes, allow us to have this holiday first....the job can come in for a bit.”

Raze: “Approved. You are now dismissed. Raze and council out.”

 

Once we disconnected with the leaders, we were left to our own. What a relief. There’s so much questions to ask. So much answers to be sought—-which means there are deep mysteries yet are unsolved.

 

I know it isn’t over yet, but I’m glad that I’ve found my brother, who I deeply miss, a boyfriend who I truly love, and my friends getting together, at full circle. The experiences of saving lives have never been better.

 

But I can always assure to the world, that Paladin is needed, no matter what cost or conflict there is....

 

We’ll be there.