FFB - Pieces of Justice

Continuing the theme of short stories, today's 'forgotten book' is Pieces of Justice, the first collection of Margaret Yorke’s short stories, twenty-three in all, ranging from 1977 to 1983. At time of this publication (1994) she had published 37 novels, five of them concerning Oxford don and amateur sleuth Patrick Grant. Her first book was published in 1957, her last in 2001.

The majority of the stories were published in the annual hardback series, Winter’s Crimes. A scattering of others appeared in magazines, among them Woman, Woman and Home, and Ellery Queen’s Mystery Magazine.

It’s inevitable perhaps that, considering the period of the writing, some themes and murder methods are repeated; even some character names are used again, as well as cruise ship names. This can’t be a criticism because at the time of their writing there was no conception of these tales being collected. It’s interesting to note, though, how certain names stick in the writer’s forebrain and insist on coming out more than once. Most writers have to watch out for this. By their nature, the stories are ‘tell’ rather than ‘show’ – certainly, some could have been developed into full length novels, with sub-plots.

Characterisation has to be limited since the stories are short. Within the word constraints, Yorke achieves a great deal, offering us widowers, widows, unhappily married couples, and virtually all have a grudge smouldering from some past event, misdemeanour or mistreatment.  A few are sad individuals who live a lie and might as well be dead. Space does not permit referring to each story, but I would single out a sample handful.

‘The Liberator’ is told in the first person; the elderly narrator is able to use her lethal skills to right what she considers to be wrongs. In ‘The Reckoning’ Ellen determines to do away with her seventy-year-old husband… and succeeds, but Nemesis has something to say about her fate. Indeed, hand of fate and deus ex machina endings pop up more than once in these stories.

A few tales are quite dark, notably ‘Anniversary’, when Mrs Frobisher plots to kill her rich husband, but things don’t quite go according to plan. ‘The Mouse will Pay’ is about a particularly nasty poison pen letter-writer.

In my view, the best of the bunch is ‘Means to Murder’, a period piece that evokes a past time and an injustice, viewed by a child who grows to adulthood.

Overall, a fascinating collection, best to be dipped into rather than read in one go. Yorke dredges up the sinister from the everyday, the unease from the normal, and certainly lets the past cast its shadow on the present for her protagonists.

 
Margaret Yorke died in 2012, aged 88.

Writing – Market – Lamplight

If you write horror, noir or dark fantasy fiction, then this quarterly literary magazine might be worth consideration. Lamplight is published in print and e-book formats. They do not accept stories with the following: vampires, zombies, werewolves, serial killers, hitmen, excessive gore or sex.

At the end of the year all the quarterlies are bound together in an annual collection. Volume 1 collection, for example, is a 450-page paperback!

 

 

They’re asking for non-exclusive, worldwide, serial rights to your work for both electronic and print. As they say, “We want to publish it, we don’t want to own it.”

Payment is a flat fee rather than a by word system. For short stories - $150 per story (2,000-7,000 words). For flash fiction - $50 (1,000 words or less). If your story’s in-between, they say to “send it over and we can talk”.

They will take reprints, provided you have the rights they’re asking for.

Simultaneous submissions are okay; just let them know if it gets accepted elsewhere.

Multiple submissions will not be accepted.

Please wait for 90 days before you query.

Submission time

“As Lamplight is a quarterly, there are some reading dates associated with it. While we take submissions year round, there are cut off dates for the individual issues. The cut off dates for each of the issues are listed below.

Spring – 15 January
Summer – 15 April
Fall – 15 July
Winter – 15 October” – So, you have a few days to hit this deadline!

Where to Submit

Submit on their website. They accept most file types as well. Please use manuscript format for your story (although headers and footers are not needed).

Website:

https://lamplightmagazine.submittable.com/submit

Good luck!

Writing market - Tingle those spines!

Burne-Jones - le vampire - Wikipedia commons

If you enjoy writing spine tingling tales, then this site may be of interest. Spinetinglers of Northern Ireland run a monthly competition, free-to-enter, with cash prizes for the top five stories each month. Open to writers worldwide.

According to the website, the story ‘doesn't have to be macabre and morose; it can be light-hearted or even uplifting. Whether it is filled with ghosts or ghouls, possessions or poltergeists, or merely the suggestion of something supernatural, anything is acceptable. We want you to let your imagination run wild and come up with the story or stories that make our spine tingle.’

Keep your stories under 5,000 words if possible, though they’re unlikely to reject a story they like if it happens to be 5,100 words.

‘Your story can be violent or leaning towards erotica but please nothing too explicit. Anything too gratuitous may be automatically rejected.’

Register on the site (which is of course free) and then login and submit your story. 1st Place receives £100.00 GBP plus guaranteed inclusion into a future printed Spinetinglers Anthology and of course a Certificate. 2nd place receives £50.00, 3rd, 4th and 5th all receive £25.00 each. We have stated in the prize money in pounds - sterling, however if you live outside of the UK you will receive the equivalent to this amount in your local currency.

Winners will receive their prize money within three months of publication.

You can read previous winning stories on the site; the latest, for July, are already there..

Submissions are considered on the 15^th of each month and if received after that date will be considered for the next month.

Spinetinglers, 22 Vestry Road, Ballygowan, Co Down, BT23 6HJ, Northern Ireland.

Website: www.spinetinglers.co.uk

 

Writing market - 'contemporary pulp fiction'

Spacesuits and Sixguns is a magazine of contemporary pulp fiction and it has just increased its rates to 4c per word.

According to their website, they want 'simple, straightforward storytelling with an emphasis on action. We’re not looking for Lovecraft or Howard pastiches, or stories set in the 1930’s. Read a dozen pulp fiction stories, soak it all up, then ask yourself: what if this happened in my hometown today? Write close to home, write about what you love, and follow Elmore Leonard’s maxim: leave out the parts people skip. All genres accepted — detective, horror, mystery, adventure, SF, sword and sorcery. We love them all. Give us about 4000 words. Shorter is fine. We’re flexible. If it’s longer and it’s good, no problem. Rule number one – be fun!'

Previously published authors include Scott Nicholson, Samantha Henderson, Michael Wiecek, Steven Utley, and Howard Waldrop.

Send electronic submissions only.  Pays on publication.  Buys First North American Serial Rights.

The editor is Dave Duggins. The email for submissions is submissions@spacesuitsandsixguns.com.

The website is www.spacesuitsandsixguns.com.

Best of luck!

Saturday Story - 'HBT'

HBT

 

Nik Morton

 

London - Wikipedia commons

 

Bryony Easton shut her Gucci briefcase aggressively and eyed the man across the gleaming boardroom table. Yes, he was handsome enough to make a nun hyperventilate. But no way could his blatant sex appeal deflect Bryony Easton from her purpose. This company belonged to her, and she refused to allow the City’s darling Alastair Ross Fleming even the slightest chance of winning his hostile takeover of HBT.

‘Thank you for laying your cards on my table, Mr Fleming.’ Her ice-blue eyes lanced. ‘The Board will discuss your offer.’ Dismissal.

Levelling his own blue eyes on her, Fleming smiled thinly. ‘Don’t keep me waiting too long.’

Anger flushed her cheeks. Yet disconcertingly his look also sent a pleasurable shiver through her. His eyes lowered under her penetrating gaze. She was startled to realise that she actually desired him.

*

Leaving the tall HBT building, Fleming believed Bryony was one of those power-women who liked to dominate men, especially those in commercial conflict. His own appetites were as keen and he reckoned she would be an interesting challenge.

At least she was attractive and young, unlike some business conquests. Financial pundits often pondered the mystery of how she’d climbed so high to become so powerful at a young age. Maybe he would find out.

*

Gazing out the penthouse office window at the Thames, Bryony listened to Saunders on the phone: ‘Report’s half-done, Miss Easton.’

She bit back the instinctive retort that half isn’t good enough by half. Truth was, she wasn’t in a good mood even though the board had thrown out Fleming’s proposal. Bryony astutely calculated that two members were wavering and would cave-in if the bidding was to hot up. God, what a cowardly shower those men were! Of course she only had herself to blame – she’d promoted them, after all. But that was ages ago – now they’d changed and wanted a quiet comfortable life. Well, they were in for a shock. HBT was not going to fall prey to any asset-stripper. And, besides, she liked the power. An insidious knot twisted in her stomach. Surely Fleming didn’t know the truth? Perhaps he was after the power too...

 
‘Fine,’ she replied. ‘Well done, Mr Saunders. Send me what you’ve got now. And get the rest to me soon.’
 
Fleming was forty-two, married with two sons and adored by the City. He advocated quality time for families. And he was a liar.
 
Bryony read the first instalment of the report from Saunders in her bubble bath.
 
Saunders was a good private detective: he’d unearthed considerable dirt. Fleming played around – which labelled him a liar, a cheat and a hypocrite. Traits found in abundance in the business world. But these days powerful shareholders may take strong exception to a director’s dishonesty and dubious morals and effectively dump him. However, if he’d been a politician, they’d probably vote for him as Prime Minister.
 
Bryony smiled, sponging scented lather over her faultless skin. This knowledge could seriously damage Fleming and his bid for HBT. She liked that.

*

Facing him across the restaurant meal, Bryony thought Fleming had controlled the conversation with accomplished ease – a man after her own heart. She smiled at the phrase, only too aware of the frisson his nearness gave her.

 
He looked younger tonight. Stress and deceit obviously agreed with him.
 
She smiled, her full red lips lingering over the strawberry. ‘Would you like to come back to my penthouse?’ She bit into the fruit and juice dribbled. She licked her lip but some drooled onto her chin.
 
He leaned over and wiped her mouth with his napkin. ‘Yes, I’d like to come.’
 
It was rather blatant innuendo, but she let it pass. She would enjoy seducing him then revealing her knowledge about his other infidelities.

*

Sunlight beamed into her bedroom, disclosing Calvin Klein entwined with Janet Raeger on the thick fitted carpet.

 
Bryony awoke and stretched languorously, letting the silk sheet fall away from her naked body.

Careful not to disturb Fleming’s sleeping form, she sat up in the king-size bed. He was lying face down. Despite herself, she smiled. It had been one hell of a night. He was a superb lover. But she’d proven more than equal to his needs, and that fact alone vindicated her: she must keep HBT for herself, at all costs. His was the sleep of the exhausted, she thought with satisfaction. Power in the boardroom, power in the bedroom; she had both, and it pleased her.

 
Bryony quietly opened the bedside drawer and withdrew a slim blue folder.
 
Saunders had excelled himself. The report’s second half was waiting for her when she returned home with Fleming last night. Opening the file now she felt an exquisite thrill: it seemed daring to read about the man as he lay there.
 
But, after a few moments of reading, her blood ran cold. Stunned, she read on, shaking her head in disbelief. For the briefest of moments she reached out and stroked his head. And tears welled.

*

On the morning after, Fleming spread marmalade on toast and gave her a puzzled look. ‘Why should I back down?’

 
Bryony dropped the two Saunders Detective Agency files onto the breakfast table. She sipped her coffee then sighed. This wasn’t going to be easy. But he had a right to know. ‘I was fourteen and gave birth to an illegitimate son,’ she said. ‘He was adopted. Our family left town and I changed my name. The past was forgotten and when I had enough power I saw to it that no records of my pre-Bryony Easton past survived.’
 
He bit into a finger of marmalade-covered toast. ‘Why’re you telling me this?’
 
‘Because that was in 1964...’

‘That’s hard to believe, Bryony.’ He laughed. ‘I’d say you’re no more than thirty – and that was forty-five years ago – as it happens, I was born then...’ His smile froze and he stared.

 
‘Actually, I’m fifty-nine. Hold Back Time isn’t just a lucrative anti-ageing cream business to add to your portfolio. Though not for public consumption, one of HBT’s products actually arrests ageing. The discrete rich pay well for the secret and the privilege. I discovered the cream and make use of it.’ She forced a smile, despite the situation. ‘And I’m living proof that it works.’
 
‘Oh, my God...’ he said, his toast forgotten. ‘Last night, we – we–’
 
She nodded. ‘I know... How do you think I feel?’
 
He stared in disbelief at his mother.

***

Previously published in Beat to a Pulp webzine, 2010.

Copyright Nik Morton, 2014

 

More exotic tales can be found in my book Spanish Eye,

22 tales of Leon Cazador, private eye, 'in his own words'

 

 

Spanish Eye, which can be purchased post-free world-wide from here

 

and the Spanish Eye e-book bought from Amazon com here

or bought from Amazon co uk here

 

Fantasy Adventure short story competition

Baen Books is running an open fantasy competition with a generous word-count allowance of 8,000, so this may be your chance! You have a good six weeks... plenty of time to build a world or two.

Deadline 30 June. See this link – the gist of which is below:

Baen Books is proud to announce the inaugural Baen Fantasy Adventure Award, to be given at this year’s Gen Con* to the best piece of original short fiction that captures the spirit and tradition of such great storytellers as Larry Correia, Robert E. Howard, Mercedes Lackey, Elizabeth Moon, Andre Norton, J.R.R. Tolkien, David Weber and Marion Zimmer Bradley.

Contest Rules

· Write a short story of no more than 8,000 words. It must be a work of fantasy, though all fantasy genres are open, e.g. epic fantasy, heroic fantasy, sword and sorcery, contemporary fantasy, etc.

· No entry fee. But only one submission per person...we suggest your best one!

· No reprints.

· All entries must be original works in English. Plagiarism, poetry, song lyrics, settings and/or characters from published gaming worlds or another author’s works of fiction will not be considered.

· E-mail submissions only. Send entries as .RTF attachments to: baenfantasyaward@baen.com

· Please put the word SUBMISSION in the subject line when sending a contest entry and QUESTION in the subject line for questions to the contest administrator.

· Please include the following in the body of your email: The title of the work, the author's name, address and telephone number, and an approximate word-count. The manuscript should be a RTF attachment, in standard manuscript format and should be titled and numbered on every page, but the author's name MUST BE DELETED to facilitate fair judging.

· Employees of Baen Books and Gen Con are not eligible.

· Contest closes for submissions June 30, 2014 at 11:59pm EDT.

 

What We Want To See

Adventure fantasy with heroes you want to root for. Warriors either modern or medieval, who solve problems with their wits or with their sword--and we have nothing against dragons, elves, dwarves, castles under siege, urban fantasy, damsels in distress, or damsels who can’t be bothered to be distressed.

 

What We Don't Want To See

Political drama with no action, angst-ridden teens pining over vampire lovers, religious allegory, novel segments, your gaming adventure transcript, anything set in any universe not your own, “it was all a dream” endings, or screenplays.

 

Judges

Judging will be by the Baen editorial staff, with final entries also being judged by Larry Correia.

 

Prizes

· The GRAND PRIZE winner will be published as the featured story on the Baen Books main website and paid at industry-standard rates for professional story submittals. The author will also receive a handsome engraved award and a prize package containing various Baen Books.

· SECOND and THIRD place winners will receive a prize package containing various Baen Books.

· Winners will be announced and notified no later than July 31, 2014. (Only the winners will be notified.)

· The winners will be honoured as part of Gen Con's Writer's Symposium. (We would prefer the winner attend the conference, but it is not required.)

***

Gen Con – ‘the best 4 days in gaming', August 14-17, 2014.

 

Good luck!

 

 

Crooked Cats' Tales - 20 stories right up your alley

As a publisher of predominantly full-length fiction, Crooked Cat Publishing always wanted to create a collection of short stories by their authors – so here it is, a sampler of their work.

Twenty tantalising tasters from Crooked Cats from the UK, Spain, France and the US, all keen to showcase their writing skills with glimpses into their existing releases, or with something new altogether.

Stories of historical and contemporary fiction, crime and drama, fantasy, humour and ghostly shenanigans. Murder. Love. Adventure. Gossip. Growing up. Scheming. Friendship – Crooked Cats’ Tales has it all!

 

 

 Tonight at 8pm UTV+1. Crooked Cat Publishing is launching something very special. CROOKED CATS’ TALES - a collection of 20 tantalising tasters from a selection of Crooked Cat authors.

on AmazonUK here

on Amazon COM here

and on Smashwords here

***
Crooked Cat short stories and their authors:

Cocktail Hour by Pamela Kelt
A Rescue in Graphite by Maggie Secara
Once Again by KB Walker
The Pied Piper of Larus by Kathy Sharp
Her Visitors by Ailsa Abraham
White Rose by Carol Hedges
A Bright New Copper by Catriona King
Altared by Adele Elliott
Misgivings by Nancy Jardine
Saturday Fever by Sue Barnard
The Wanderer by T.E. Taylor
Sheffield Steel by Trevor Ripley
The Blue House by Carol Maginn
Processionary Penitents by Nik Morton
The Second Summer of Love by Michela O’Brien

Young Loves by Jeff Gardiner
Cradle of Man by J.L. Bwye
Silken Knots by Frances di Plino
The Thread that Binds by Mark Patton
Boo! by David W Robinson

***

The authors, in brief:

Pamela Kelt worked in journalism in the 1980s and is now author of six novels and a smattering of stories. She lives in Kenilworth. Her novel Tomorrow’s Anecdote is published by Crooked Cat.

Maggie Secara’s poetry and stories have appeared in a variety of little magazines both on- and off-line. Her latest novel, The Mermaid Stair, the third adventure in the Harper Errant fantasy series from Crooked Cat, is released on May 23, 2014. As for the story in this volume, last year’s King’s Raven featured a pair of supporting characters in mid-Victorian London… and this is about them.

KB Walker revisits some of the characters and Castlegate, the scene of her novel, Once Removed. Originally from Michigan, Kimm Walker moved to Yorkshire and took up a career in teaching. 

Kathy Sharp lives on the Jurassic Coast at Weymouth, Dorset. The years she spent living on the Isle of Portland, in particular, provided her with wonderful ideas for quirky and amusing tales as well as being the model for her first novel, the fantasy Isle of Larus.

Ailsa Abraham lives in France. Working under two pen-names she has published six books. As Ailsa Abraham published by Crooked Cat, she has written Alchemy and Shaman's Drum. She is presently writing the third book in this series which will continue the adventures of Iamo, Riga, The Gaia Foundation and the other characters from the first two books.

 
Carol Hedges is the author of eleven books for teenagers and adults. Her novel Jigsaw (now an ebook: Jigsaw Pieces) was long-listed for the Carnegie Medal. Crooked Cat recently published her Victorian murder mystery, Diamonds & Dust. Carol lives in Hertfordshire.

Catriona King is a doctor and has trained as a police Forensic Medical Examiner. Her best-selling Craig Crime series of novels are set in the streets of modern Belfast and Northern Ireland. The Craig Crime series comprise: A Limited Justice The Grass Tattoo The Visitor The Waiting Room The Broken Shore. Books six and seven, The Slowest Cut and The Coercion Key will be released in June and August 2014 respectively. Catriona's latest release, The Carbon Trail, is a standalone thriller set in New York City.

 
Adele Elliott is a New Orleans native, exiled in Columbus, Mississippi. She is a 1995 graduate of the University of New Orleans with a Bachelor’s Degree in Fine Arts. She minored in English and was the fiction editor of Ellipsis, the literary magazine of UNO. Her novel Friendship Cemetery is published by Crooked Cat.

Nancy Jardine lives in Aberdeenshire, Scotland. Nancy has four novels published by Crooked Cat: Topaz Eyes – an ancestral/dynasty based mystery thriller. The Celtic Fervour Series of Historical Romantic Adventures: The Beltane Choice (book 1); After Whorl: Bran Reborn (book 2); After Whorl: Donning Double Cloaks (book 3).

Sue Barnard was born in North Wales but spent most of her life in and around Manchester. Her first novel, The Ghostly Father (Crooked Cat, 2014) is a new take on the traditional story of Romeo & Juliet. Her second novel, a romantic mystery entitled Nice Girls Don’t, is due for publication by Crooked Cat later in 2014.

 
Tim Taylor was born in Stoke-on-Trent and now lives in Meltham, near Huddersfield. He studied Classics at Pembroke College, Oxford, and some years later did a PhD in Philosophy at Birkbeck, University of London. As well as fiction, Tim writes poetry, which he often performs on local radio. His historical novel Zeus of Ithome was published by Crooked Cat in November 2013.

Trevor Ripley works full time for the NHS and is studying for a Master’s Degree. Lily Lovebug and the Unconquered Planet, a 30,000 word novel for readers aged 8 upwards, is the first of Trevor’s works to be published. Sheffield Steel – Aisha’s Story presents a sample of his 80.000 word crime thriller Sheffield Steel, set in the city close to his heart.

 
Carol Maginn currently lives in Liverpool, her home city. She has published a number of short stories and non-fiction. Ruin, her first novel, was published by Crooked Cat in December 2013. Her second, Daniel Taylor, is a thriller set in Rome, which will be published later in 2014.
 
Nik Morton is me, so you probably know too much already... This story is my 23^rd Leon Cazador case; the others can be found in Crooked Cat’s Spanish Eye. At least three books are due out in 2014: a co-written fantasy quest novel Wings of the Overlord, a sixth western The Magnificent Mendozas and, from Crooked Cat, Sudden Vengeance, a vigilante crime novel. I live in Spain, but you probably know that...

Michela O’Brien was born in Milan, Italy. She moved to England in 1994. Crooked Cat has published her novels Playing on Cotton Clouds and A Summer Of Love, both of which have received much praise.

 
Jeff Gardiner is the author of two Crooked Cat novels: Myopia explores bullying and prejudice, following the stories of Jerry and Mindy, who also appear in ‘Young Loves’. Igboland is a novel of passion and conflict set in war-torn West Africa. Treading On Dreams is a tale of obsession and unrequited love from Tirgearr Publishing. His collection of short stories, A Glimpse of the Numinous, contains horror, romance and humour. His work of non- fiction, The Law of Chaos: the Multiverse of Michael Moorcock is due out later in 2014.
 
Jane Bwye, a businesswoman and intermittent freelance journalist, lived for over half a century in Kenya. Her first novel, from Crooked Cat, Breath of Africa, was written to feed her nostalgia when she and her husband left for the UK at the turn of the century. Other publications include a cookbook in aid of the Kenya Museum Society and a History of her local church.
 
Frances di Plino is the pen name of Lorraine Mace, children’s author, humour columnist for Writing Magazine and a competition judge for Writers’ Forum. She also runs a private critique and mentoring service for writers. Writing as Frances di Plino, she is the author of the crime/thriller series featuring D.I. Paolo Storey: Bad Moon Rising, Someday Never Comes and Call It Pretending. The fourth novel in the series, Looking for a Reason, is due out in the autumn 2014.

Mark Patton was born and brought up on the island of Jersey, studied archaeology and anthropology at Cambridge, and completed his PhD at University College London. He has taught at several universities in the Netherlands, France and the UK, and now teaches with The Open University. He writes historical fiction for Crooked Cat: Undreamed Shores and An Accidental King.

David Robinson is a Yorkshireman living in Manchester; he is a prolific freelance writer, novelist and humourist. To date eleven of his Amazon best-selling STAC Mysteries and three stand-alone thrillers have been published by Crooked Cat. The first of his new series of supernatural mysteries, Spookies, will be published by Crooked Cat in the summer, 2014.

 

Links to the authors and their blogs/websites and books can be found at the end of each story...

***

The above twenty are only a few of the many talented Crooked Cat authors. These stepped up to the plate in record time. Why not browse Crooked Cat Publishing online? You’re bound to find books of interest!

Crooked Cat at Amazon UK here

Crooked Cat at Amazon COM here

Note that the next open window for submissions

for Crooked Cat is 25-27 April, 2014. The clock is ticking!

 

Saturday Story - 'Wall of Conflict'

WALL OF CONFLICT

 

Nik Morton

 

 

 There was an air of suppressed emotion about Mary, Lambert Farrar’s willowy secretary, as he entered his utilitarian Town Hall office.

            “What’s up?” he asked.

            “Arlington Street has started picketing the builders,” she said.

            “How nice for them!”

“They’re protesting that the top of their street’s now walled-off from the corner shop while the bottom’s separated from the corner pub...”

Lowering his stout frame behind the metal desk, he grunted, “And no doubt they’re raising another petition?”

            Mary nodded but would not look at him.

            He signed a couple of routine letters then returned his attention to her.  “There’s more?”

“Yes, Mr Farrar.  The police have been called in to safeguard the workmen,” she went on.  “The wall should be completed this afternoon.”

“And the other streets?”

            “Similar progress there, sir.  Although, they don’t seem to mind their streets being blocked-off half-way...”

            They wouldn’t, he thought, amused.  Of all those chosen, only Arlington Street had a pub at one end and a shop at the other.

            He dismissed Mary and smiled.  His hate had come to fruition.  Hate for Arlington Street had festered and grown ever since he resigned his commission in the Army and overheard someone talking about him in that damned local.  “Arrogant swine, he is. Still thinks he’s top brass in the Army!”

            Even his mother sided against him when he told her.  “Son, they’re friendly if you give them a chance...”

            “It’s their ignorance, mother - their jealousy warps them,” he informed her in measured tones.  “They know I’m better than them, but won’t accept it.”

            Then, Nat Brice, their next-door neighbour and the council’s Director of Technical Services had called.  “I’m sorry, Lamby...”

            “For Heaven’s sake, Brice, stop calling me “Lamby”!  We’re not kids now!”

            “Sorry, Lambert.”

            Sorry! That’s all he ever got out of him!  No damned back-bone, that was always his trouble.  How on earth did the borough cope with him at the helm?  “Well, out with it, man!”

            “My van - I backed into... your Bentley... Nothing serious – I’ll pay for the repair...”

            Lambert had responded with the invective traditionally reserved for raw Army recruits.

Still, the incident prompted him to seek alternative parking for the Bentley.  The solution was simple enough.  Knock down the wall and turn the front room into a garage.

Trouble was, when he made his project known, thirty neighbours objected to the idea and Nat Brice made a representation to the Housing Minister. Brice had also protested in the national press: “A garage in the front of the house will spoil the appearance of the road and create fumes and noise.”

            They won the day.  While the urban council agreed to Lambert’s proposal, the county planners turned it down. He moved out of his mother’s house and rented a flat round the corner.

The sourness of that defeat goaded him.  A senior post in the town council became vacant. With the help of qualifications gained in Forces’ Correspondence courses and the leverage of a few very influential friends, he managed to get the job.

He reflected smugly that his rise had been uncanny.  Ironically, on his third anniversary in the council, he achieved the position of Assistant to the Director, Nat Brice no less.  The appointment galled him; but he had already formulated a scheme to rid himself of Brice.

            It was brilliantly engineered. But everything he handled had flair.

            The local weekly paper scooped the nationals with a sensational exposé: ROOF FALLS IN ON HOUSING RACKET - BOROUGH DIRECTOR RESIGNS.

            It had taken some string-pulling, altering documents where necessary, and it wasn’t easy to twist the incriminating evidence in Brice’s direction.

            For all Brice’s protestations of innocence, the stigma stuck; he had no option but to resign as an enquiry was called.

            Moving into Brice’s office had been a marvellous feeling. And, at forty, still the town’s youngest-ever Director of Technical Services.

            Lambert’s first speech was an impressive one.  “Our society faces a growing problem - increasing town traffic.  I aim to curtail any further influx of vehicles.”

They were unanimously behind him for it was an explosive issue brought home to them by irate house-owners and pedestrians. And the cold statistics of rising road-deaths only lent more substance to such a prohibition.  Speed-bumps and speed-cameras weren’t the answer, he’d said.  Too expensive. 

He never looked back after that.  Now, he was a well-known figure, though not very popular with motorists.  The tabloids had speedily pointed out that he still allowed himself one concession - the Bentley...

“I won’t be provoked,” he said during one press gathering.  He had other plans...

            As proposals for ring-roads and one-way systems went forward, he dropped another vote-catching bombshell: “The safety of the towns-people’s youngsters!”

            His speech made front-page headlines. “This aim has always been dearest to my heart and I believe now is the time to make the streets safe for our children to play in.”  Every word his own. “I want to see more play-streets in this town and less traffic...”

            Put like that, he knew the council had no alternative but to agree wholeheartedly. They wouldn’t particularly relish hundreds of mothers hounding them should they veto the idea!

            Shopkeepers and the sturdier die-hards offered their objections.  But he soon silenced them: “For the price of a few bricks and mortar you’d see more of the town’s children run over?” Good rhetoric, that.

The intercom squawked. “The wall’s completed, Mr Farrar.”

He felt content at last.  Revenge! The brick wall stretching across the middle of Arlington Street, dividing his mother’s door from her neighbour, Nat Brice, and chopping the entire street in half!

“An Arlington Street representative is on the line, sir,” Mary hesitated then added: “It – it’s Mrs Farrar... your mother...”

            Lambert”s finger paused on the console. Cunning devils! Oh, well... “All right,” he said coldly, “I’ll speak to her.”

            He listened absently to her pleading tirade, then interrupted, “I’ll look into it, honestly, mother. It’s a trial period. But you must appreciate the safety of our neighbours’ kids comes first, boozing and packets of fags at the corner shop a sad second.”

            “Since when have you had the welfare of our neighbours at heart?”  He could picture her flaccid rouged cheeks quivering with barely suppressed emotion.

            “Ever since they took such a liking to me, mother.”  He hung up.

***

The cool night air hit hard as he emerged from the pub. Quite a celebration! He clambered into his parked Bentley.

            He pulled away from the kerb.  A note from Mary was still unopened in his coat pocket.  He’d forgotten all about it in his eagerness to come out and celebrate; he might relent after a few months and have a doorway cut into the wall for pedestrians. He fished out the envelope.

            Accelerating into his own street, he suddenly realised he was driving with no lights and the street-lamps were on the blink again. 

He tried to brake on seeing the obstacle in his way, but his reactions were too dulled. 

***

When they cut him out of the tangled wreckage, a crumpled envelope was found in his dead hand.  The note inside said:

            The protesters dismantled the bricks from the Arlington Street wall and dumped them across your street.  Do you wish to prosecute?

 

***

Previously published in the Costa Blanca News, 2005.

Copyright Nik Morton, 2014

Catch more short stories by Nik Morton in

Spanish Eye, 22 cases from Leon Cazador, private eye:

 

Spanish Eye, which can be purchased post-free world-wide from here

and the Spanish Eye e-book bought from Amazon com here

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and the Blood of the Dragon Trees e-book bought from Amazon com here

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