All His Works

Ainny Klover

Description

Alex Bryn, a once successful musician, is retired and earning his bread as a small-time music critic when he receives an unexpected call from a police inspector. The inspector is investigating a suspicious death in Edinburgh of a woman identified as a past girlfriend of Alex's. Shaken by the news, Alex finds himself in a jazz bar attending an impossible out-of-time show performed by Ciara, his ex-lover, and reminiscing about their turbulent past.Alex must walk a fine line in trying to give a convincing account of this near-mystical experience to the unbelieving inspector, especially since the experience is apparently linked to the secret of Ciara's death. But did the performance really take place or was it just a figment of Alex's imagination?

Sujets

• Edimburgo
• Edinburgh
• Édimbourg

Informations

• Publié par: Troubador Publishing Ltd
• Date de parution: 01 octobre 2020
• Nombre de lectures: 0
• EAN13: 9781800467286
• Langue: English

Extrait

All His Works
On the Eighth Day
Ainny Klover
Copyright © 2020 Ainny Klover

The moral right of the author has been asserted.

Apart from any fair dealing for the purposes of research or private study, or criticism or review, as permitted under the Copyright, Designs and Patents Act 1988, this publication may only be reproduced, stored or transmitted, in any form or by any means, with the prior permission in writing of the publishers, or in the case of reprographic reproduction in accordance with the terms of licences issued by the Copyright Licensing Agency. Enquiries concerning reproduction outside those terms should be sent to the publishers.

This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, businesses, places, events and incidents are either the products of the author’s imagination or used in a fictitious manner. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or actual events is purely coincidental.

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ISBN 978 1800467 286

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Special thanks to Alex and Helena. Your enthusiasm and understanding have made a real difference.
Contents
Morning
Interlude 1
The editor
Interlude 2
An accidental story
Interlude 3
The same morning
Interlude 4
An accidental story. The break-up
Interlude 5
Evening of the next day
Interlude 6
The letter
Interlude 7
Witness
Interlude 8
Ciara
Interlude 9
Performance
Interlude 10
Epilogue. On the eighth day
Morning
Sound sleep isn’t just the preserve of the righteous. A glass of brandy and a couple of sleeping pills can also, if need be, stifle the muttering of the guiltiest of consciences. In this case, however, conscience had nothing to do with it. I must admit that moving into a room overlooking a tram depot may not have been a great idea, but my financial capabilities of late hadn’t been exactly amenable to luxury.
In the morning, just before awaking, I dreamed of Ciara again. She was holding a small, sealed envelope. For some reason, the sight of this envelope upset me immensely, and I awoke, breathless, desperately trying to quiet the frantic heartbeat choking at my throat. After calming myself with some difficulty, and unsticking my valiantly resisting eyelids, I habitually reached for the phone lying on the floor nearby. Through the loosely shuttered window, dim, angular shafts of light entered the room. A red light was flashing on the phone. Three missed calls, all from the same number, the first at half past eight in the morning. Unfamiliar number. Throwing back the covers, I got up and shuffled in the direction of the kitchen, wincing from the painful acknowledgment of my humdrum reality, in which not only was there no Ciara, but in which she had, in fact, never even existed.
I barely had time to make myself some coffee and fashion a slice of stale bread and a lump of weathered cheese into a sandwich before the phone rang again. This time, there was no number at all.
“Mr. Bryn?”
“Yes, that’s me. What can I do for you?”
“This is Inspector Macpherson calling from the Specialist Crime Division of Police Scotland.”
A Scot… Damn, how did they manage so quickly… Unbelievable! But what shall I do now?
“How can I help you, Mr. Macpherson?”
“Would it be possible for us to meet?”
“When?”
“I’m only in the capital for a few days, so as soon as possible.”
“What’s happened?”
“We just need to ask you a few questions.”
“What about?”
They say that some people are able to maintain complete composure when speaking to the police. Alas, I do not belong to their number.
“Mr. Bryn, are you acquainted with Miss Ciara Deich?”
“No… I mean, yes, we did know each other. Many years ago.”
“And now?”
“No, I haven’t seen her since then. But… I recently went to her show.”
“Her show?”
“Well, she was performing live in Edinburgh and sent invitations to our editor’s office. I’m a journalist. I run a column on pop music.”
“We know who you are, Mr. Bryn. So, you say that she invited you to her show?”
“No, she sent an invitation to the editor’s office, and the Chief gave the assignment to me. Ciara used to be quite popular, you see, and the fact that she was planning to return to the stage was already worthy of attention just by itself.”
“And you say you were at the show?”
“Yes, and not just me. There was quite a lot of press there.”
“And when was this show? And where?”
“At the Jazz Bar. No, not the one on Chambers Street, the other one. In Portobello. She lives nearby, I think. Teaches music. Mainly jazz vocals. But now she… What’s actually happened?”