ACC Bishop called later in the day with some news. She told us that she’d managed to get a prominent Journalist to agree to interview me on the understanding that no manipulation of my words would be done post interview. We all felt better for this as despite my former colleague being arrested and charged with numerous offenses, the press seemed to be having a feeding frenzy with my past. Many facts were being reported about me, most of which were simply fiction. This made me angry. Mary did her best to calm me down and tell me that my side of the story would be told in due course.

The she asked,
“Did Sergeant Pratt go anywhere in the house apart from the hallway after you dialled ‘999’?”

“No Ma’am. I made sure that no one went anywhere else. I didn’t want to contaminate the crime scene.”

“I think that is everything we needed to cover. Any other points?” I said mightily relieved that the meeting was coming to an end.

My team looked at each other but no one spoke until the newest one of the team, Jeremy Ford said,
“So, Frank, are you going to tell us where you are going for your Holidays?”

I smiled. I’d not told anyone what I was going to do for the next three weeks.

“I’m going to the Outer Hebrides. I’ve rented a cottage on the west coast of the Isle of Lewis,” I replied smiling.

“What are you going to do up there?” asked another of my team, Melvyn Sands.

“Not a lot and that’s the beauty of it. There is a long white sand beach just yards from the cottage and not a lot else for miles.”

We found ACC Bishop in her office. Her assistant soon understood our predicament and arranged for us to see her boss.

To give her credit, the Assistant Commissioner listened intently to our plan without showing any emotion or reaction one way or the other.

At the end of our speech, she closed her eyes for almost a minute.

When she opened them again she smiled at us.

“Well, I have to say that of all the ideas that have been floated by me and the other commissioners to catch this killer… This is just about the most ridiculous and silly and… You know it might just work but…”

I arrived a few minutes late for work to find the squad room a scene of what can only be described as organised chaos. From the looks on everyone’s faces we’d picked up a new case. I headed for my desk and after slipping off my coat I sat down, started to get my bearings and waited in vain for anyone to remark ‘oh you are back then?’ or some such greeting.

I was just returning from three weeks holiday and I was already feeling slightly miffed that none of my colleagues had even noticed that I’d returned to work.

[Labor Day Weekend]
Things were as usual pretty quiet in Custer County. I’d given everyone but Kelly and myself the weekend off to be with their families.

[Saturday of Memorial Day Weekend]
The town was quiet that day. The next county was having its fair. This was the first of the season so a lot of the townspeople had decided to head on over there to enjoy themselves.

I was in the office doing some of the never ending stream of paperwork that a Sheriff seems to attract almost every day of the week when the front door burst open and a man in his 50’s burst in.

“Can I help you Sir?” I asked trying to put a smile on this rude interruption to my work.

“You dammed better be able to help me,” came his gruff reply.

[Morning at the Police Department Office]

“Hiya Team,” I said as I walked into the County Police Station that Monday morning.

My name is Matt Beecher and for my sins, I’m the Sheriff of Custer County.

“I trust that you all didn’t get took drunk at the Custer County Fair at the weekend?”

There were collective mumbles from the five officers who’d arrived for duty just in front of me.

“Good. Well this is another week and that means we have another week of traffic tickets to give our citizens. We gotta keep our roads safe.”

Then I smelt the air.

"Welcome back Mr Tomlinson. How's the leg and wrist?" asked my assistant Bree.

"Getting better Bree but I'm still a long way from running the marathon again," I replied.

I'd run the NYC Marathon the previous year and raised more than $10K for charity.

"It is just nice to see you back again."

My driver John wheeled me into my office. Not much had changed in the five weeks that I'd been out of action. The pile of current project files had grown considerably but not much else.

"Will there be anything else Mr Tomlinson?"

Life soon returned to something approaching normality after the episode with Lucy's Mother. Lucy was working hard to complete her dissertation along with the spectre of her final exams looming ever closer.

Andrea spent a lot of time in her cellar workshop tarting up odd bits of furniture that she'd then sell for a bit of profit to the local second-hand shop. She also kept Lucy fed and watered while she finished off her dissertation. At the weekend, they usually headed off out of the city into the Pennines for a bit of exercise and relaxation.

Gradually the events of Easter Weekend faded into the background.

Lucy returned home on the second Wednesday of June in a jubilant mood.

"That's it, I'm done. It's all done, printed off, bound and submitted."

Andrea gave her a big hug and said,

"Well then to celebrate we are going out."

The discovery of the money gave Lucy another problem, Andrea. She'd promised that she'd live with her until the Cowes week event. Now, she had enough money to do as she pleased with her life without her parents trying to tell her what to do ever again.

It was then that she realised that was exactly the reason why Andrea was crying. Andrea must have realised that Lucy didn't need her anymore. The visible change in Lucy over the past weeks thanks to Andrea had been there for everyone to see apart from Lucy herself.

Slowly it began to dawn upon her that Andrea had made her take stock of her life. She didn't know what she wanted to do with it but it, whatever it was, was on her mind now instead of being pushed back into the darkest recesses and filed under 'tomorrow'.

Had Andrea and her no-nonsense approach to life had made her grow up at least a little bit?

That and a thousand other questions raced through her mind. It was only when Andrea touched her arm lightly and said,

"Earth to planet Lucy, come in please?"

Lucy let out a startled, "You can't be serious? Do mean to say that you put me through all that for a joke?"

"Lucy, everything I've said today has been deadly serious. Come back into the lounge and think about what I said while dish up dessert. Ok?"

Lucy followed Andrea out of the bedroom and still somewhat in a daze, she sat down at the table.

Andrea disappeared into the kitchen and returned with desert.

"Here you go, Crème Brulee de la Maison," said Andrea as she placed a dish down in front of Lucy.

This is a repost of an old story that seems to have disappeared from the site.

This piece takes the form of an interview between Ellen Hammond (EH) and Rosemary Donaldson (RD).

[EH] My guest today is the former politician and civil rights campaigner Rosemary Donaldson. Welcome to the show Rosemary.

[RD] Thank you for inviting me Ellen.

[EH] You have had a very varied and incident packed life. How do you think you would survive on a Desert Island?

[RD] How big is this island?

[EH] As big as you would like it to be?

Dedicated follower of fashion -or O'Lucky Man.

This is a tale that I wrote around 2007. The 'fashion accessory' mentioned in this story was around at the time. It didn't last all that long but it got me thinking.

“Ladies, ladies, let us not get carried away. There is a lot more to discuss that could potentially stop the project dead in the water. May I suggest that we break for lunch? That will give everyone time to think and try to consider what going forward may mean to the rest of your life.”

No one disagreed so I added,

“It is almost one o’clock now. Why don’t we reconvene at two thirty?”

Again, no one disagreed so the meeting broke up. The new arrivals went and found their rooms with the help of Ann-Marie.

That left Jo and myself alone in the kitchen.

It was a brilliant moonlit night. The warm weather of the past few weeks had made the nights unbearable for sleeping.
One of those who couldn’t sleep was William(Bill) Clancy. That night he’d gone for a drive down to the coast in his car.

As he topped the crest of a hill, he saw the gleam of the sea ahead. He wasn’t there yet. There was a steep hill to negotiate first.

He carefully started down the hillside. He saw another pair of headlights on the other side of the valley. He judged that the car was heading his way.

[At a School, somewhere two weeks before Christmas]

“Miss Featherstone, the Headmistress would like to see you in her Office?” said the Head’s secretary after she’d popped her head around my classroom door.

Sadly, my class of fifteen year olds were more interested in which ‘C List’ celebrity had either had a boob job or was … well, having it off with some other reality TV performer than 'Britain during the Industrial Revolution'. I refuse to call them stars. Most of them had as much talent as I had in my little finger.

The flight west was long and boring. I read the report on my sisters at least three times. It seemed incredible that Ruby and Emerald had not only admitted their crimes but engaged in therapy relating to anger management.

Sapphire on the other hand was totally unrepentant. The report contained copies of letters that had been smuggled out of her prison by other inmates. She was vehement in her goal of making sure that I didn’t enjoy what she considered were ill gotten gains that were in her warped view of the world, rightly hers.

A modern twist on a classic story
[At a house in a more fashionable part of Washington DC]

“We are going to the President’s Inauguration Ball next week. I saw we, but naturally a non-entity like yourself won’t be going of course but we will make sure that you don’t sit down while we are out,” said my sister Sapphire with a smirk on her face.