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54 - The Texan and the Gardener

              The man sitting astride the tall, well groomed black stallion, its croup and quarters gleaming, said with a long Texas drawl, “why’d you cut your grass so much? Yo’always seem to be cutting your grass. Is it necessary?” Thomas Dalton, a tall, strong, wispy man, his forearms sinewy like an old gnarled, twisted oak looked up from his push mower with a whimsical expression stencilled on his strongly structured features and replied, “it’s a strange thing you know. When I casually run my lawn mower over this stretch of turf it gets shorter as is witnessed by the deposit in the collection contraption.” The Texan, looking every bit the western cowboy, was at shoulder height above the high Purbeck stone wall that fronted Thomas’s garden. A pristine white Stetson with silver band was pulled down shading his eyes from the blazing noon sun partially obscuring his face but Thomas could see the large Roman nose sitting in the centre of an impressive bone structure giving the sus
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53 - When the Tide Comes In - A twenty three chapter novel

The man with the short blond hair with grey jacket hanging over faded blue jeans was really regretting bumping into the man with blonde hair with black jacket hanging over tan chinos. Andy Cronin was slumped in a corner over a black waste basket. His grey jacket was speckled. His face contorted in pain. His nose and mouth and face had taken the four quick blows that had flown out of nowhere. The crowds avoided him and ignored the man in the black jacket and the man in the blue jacket who were paying his pockets a particular amount of attention. Walking across the concourse, through the usual throng, Andy had watched the two men. The man in the black jacket and tan chinos standing to the far side of the kiosk quite close to the clock. A CCTV blind spot. The other man with the thick grey hair wearing a pinstripe suit and classy looking black Oxfords briskly walking away pushing through the crowds swiftly heading for the main entrance. He was clearly annoyed and harsh words had probably b
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52 - The Detectives Teeth

          The obnoxious detective with the buck teeth, pale complexion and short dark hair was shuffling about struggling to find that sweet spot some sofas have as he said to the girl sitting opposite him, “this man just came out of nowhere, is that what you’re telling me?” “That’s exactly what I’m saying. Do I have to draw you a diagram or something?” replied the girl with a sigh. She had spent the last twenty minutes staring at those teeth and was getting more and more agitated. “I don’t think that’s necessary,” he said, struggling with the t’s in think and that, his tongue clashing with too many teeth and making a small lisp. “Well you seem to struggle when I say, ‘and he just came out of nowhere,’ so maybe there is. How many times do I have to tell you?” she said, thinking that he really needs to get his teeth fixed. “I’m only trying to clarify the facts. The street was empty - Yes?” he said, staring at the good looking girl sitting opposite and her long blond hair with
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51 - Bobby Lucas (The Kidnap of Lilly Beauchamp) - A twenty one chapter novel

He walked into The Ship, a dark gloomy pub with its small windows and dull decoration and dark low ceiling beams and had to stand at the short bar next to a smelly old man in a black grubby jacket to wait to get served. It was so depressingly gloomy in there the curtains might as well have been drawn. The old man looked at him and smiled with brown teeth, then said, “old Sid’s down the hole changing a barrel.” Then he turned back to chew his cheek while studying his empty glass sitting on a brightly coloured beer mat tapping out a rhythm with chewed down fingernails. Robert Lucas thought some old men had a look that kind of made them seem sad and this old man seemed sad. Sad and pale. His hands shook a bit and the greying stubble on his chin was patchy like he only had a blunt blade that skipped a bit here and there. That stubble giving him a kind of whitish mouldy look. His eyes had that sort of watery look some older sad people have, looking as though he might be tired, a worn out
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