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Post by brimfin on Aug 10, 2017 1:30:14 GMT
For "The Last Page": Scenario #1 Trent Biggs is a successful businessman who worked his way up from being a domestic servant in his youth. As a result, he treats his live-in servants with utmost respect. But one thing he will not tolerate is disloyalty. Twice now, packages have arrived at his estate short one item. One time could have been an honest mistake by the seller, but two times is suspicious. And in each event, the store insisted they had sent out the full order. Trent suspects one of his staff stole the two items to pawn them off, but no local “fences” will admit to having the merchandise. Trent is one of those rare individuals who has a perfect memory, so he “looks back” in this mind to the days before the two separate packages arrived and notes in both instances that one of his staff, Higgins, looked more nervous than usual just before the thefts. He has people ask around and finds that Higgins is a gambler. Now he suspects Higgins stole the items to pay off his gambling debts, since both missing items were valuable.
So when Higgins begins to act nervous again, Biggs decides to set a trap for him. He hires a business associate to go to a bookstore in the next town. Though the bookstore is just called "O'Brien's Bookstore", any orders mailed out of town label the store “Precious Treasures”, to make the rather ordinary bookstore sound more upscale. He instructs him to pick $20 of books at random, and to tear the last pages out of each one. He figures Higgins will see the Precious Treasures address and assume the books inside are valuable antiques or first editions. He’ll take one to his bookie thinking it is worth something. The bookie will be angry enough once he suspects the book is next to worthless, but once he sees the last page is torn out he will be furious. Then he will give Higgins the beatdown he deserves. He is pretty sure the bookie will not kill him, but Higgins needs to learn that you don’t steal from Trent Biggs!
Scenario #2 Tom and Bert are two lifelong friends and they share the same birthday, even the year. They do all kinds of favors for each other during the year, but at birthday time they turn into pranksters – each trying to outdo the other with annoying gag gifts. Bert knows that Tom is not a fan of books. He prefers paintings for things to collect and crossword puzzles and chess for hobbies. He doesn’t even own a bookshelf. So Bert decides this year to get him a small collection of books, but with the back pages torn out. Tom, unfortunately for himself, is a bit of a hoarder and can’t throw out anything that has any value to it. He will be unable to return the books because the back pages are ripped out, but the books are still readable and have some value. Bookshelf-less Tom will have to find someplace to put those darn books, and Bert looks forward to teasing him about it. Now if he could just get rid of that darn purple lurple that Tom stuck him with last year.
(Scenario #2 is based on two actual cases: (1) Two prankster friends, one of whom bought a pair of moccasins that were worthless because they became stiff in cold weather and wouldn’t keep your feet warm. From time to time, one friend would re-gift the moccasins back to the other in some form making them difficult to get rid of – like cementing them inside a huge tractor tire. (2) One Christmas we exchanged gift with some friends who shall remain nameless. I took my film footage of various of their events we’d attended and shot video of and made them a compilation video complete with title cards. In return, one of them sent me a book by an author I did not like (they never asked what I wanted; since the author came from Tampa they assumed I’d like him. They didn’t know his first column I ever read insulted people from Orlando, where I was living at the time.) Further, they wrote “Merry Christmas” in the first page of the book, which made it impossible to exchange at any bookstore. I finally mailed it back to them – and that just made them mad! (By the way, they loved my video!)) |
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Post by Salzmank on Aug 10, 2017 1:34:42 GMT
Salzmank. I want you to know that I've been wrestling with The Last Page since you posted it. I can't wait for someone to solve it because I don't think it's going to be me. One question: Is the particular address to which the books are to be sent a famous address? One that people with knowledge of the Upper East Side in the 30's might realize, "Oh, that must be the address of ..."? Thanks, Jervis! I don't mean to rush anyone--of course, this isn't anything important--but I'd just like to know whether or not anyone's interested in these Author! Author! ones. Hmm... These are vague enough that I'd be fine with your going either way with your question. The solutions they gave on Author! Author! were as weak as anything. |
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Post by BATouttaheck on Aug 10, 2017 1:35:48 GMT
not me.... Mysterywise, I'm still working on where I left my cell phone. Salzmank |
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Post by Salzmank on Aug 10, 2017 1:48:41 GMT
For "The Last Page": Scenario #1 Trent Biggs is a successful businessman who worked his way up from being a domestic servant in his youth. As a result, he treats his live-in servants with utmost respect. But one thing he will not tolerate is disloyalty. Twice now, packages have arrived at his estate short one item. One time could have been an honest mistake by the seller, but two times is suspicious. And in each event, the store insisted they had sent out the full order. Trent suspects one of his staff stole the two items to pawn them off, but no local “fences” will admit to having the merchandise. Trent is one of those rare individuals who has a perfect memory, so he “looks back” in this mind to the days before the two separate packages arrived and notes in both instances that one of his staff, Higgins, looked more nervous than usual just before the thefts. He has people ask around and finds that Higgins is a gambler. Now he suspects Higgins stole the items to pay off his gambling debts, since both missing items were valuable.
So when Higgins begins to act nervous again, Biggs decides to set a trap for him. He hires a business associate to go to a bookstore in the next town. Though the bookstore is just called "O'Brien's Bookstore", any orders mailed out of town label the store “Precious Treasures”, to make the rather ordinary bookstore sound more upscale. He instructs him to pick $20 of books at random, and to tear the last pages out of each one. He figures Higgins will see the Precious Treasures address and assume the books inside are valuable antiques or first editions. He’ll take one to his bookie thinking it is worth something. The bookie will be angry enough once he suspects the book is next to worthless, but once he sees the last page is torn out he will be furious. Then he will give Higgins the beatdown he deserves. He is pretty sure the bookie will not kill him, but Higgins needs to learn that you don’t steal from Trent Biggs!
Scenario #2 Tom and Bert are two lifelong friends and they share the same birthday, even the year. They do all kinds of favors for each other during the year, but at birthday time they turn into pranksters – each trying to outdo the other with annoying gag gifts. Bert knows that Tom is not a fan of books. He prefers paintings for things to collect and crossword puzzles and chess for hobbies. He doesn’t even own a bookshelf. So Bert decides this year to get him a small collection of books, but with the back pages torn out. Tom, unfortunately for himself, is a bit of a hoarder and can’t throw out anything that has any value to it. He will be unable to return the books because the back pages are ripped out, but the books are still readable and have some value. Bookshelf-less Tom will have to find someplace to put those darn books, and Bert looks forward to teasing him about it. Now if he could just get rid of that darn purple lurple that Tom stuck him with last year.
(Scenario #2 is based on two actual cases: (1) Two prankster friends, one of whom bought a pair of moccasins that were worthless because they became stiff in cold weather and wouldn’t keep your feet warm. From time to time, one friend would re-gift the moccasins back to the other in some form making them difficult to get rid of – like cementing them inside a huge tractor tire. (2) One Christmas we exchanged gift with some friends who shall remain nameless. I took my film footage of various of their events we’d attended and shot video of and made them a compilation video complete with title cards. In return, one of them sent me a book by an author I did not like (they never asked what I wanted; since the author came from Tampa they assumed I’d like him. They didn’t know his first column I ever read insulted people from Orlando, where I was living at the time.) Further, they wrote “Merry Christmas” in the first page of the book, which made it impossible to exchange at any bookstore. I finally mailed it back to them – and that just made them mad! (By the way, they loved my video!)) Excellent ideas, Brimfin. Biggs seems a bit of a jerk, though, doesn't he?  I like the story about your friends--just the sort of thing that friends with the same birthday would do. I suppose #2 would work even if Tom were a book-lover. Bert would still tease him, though, because knows Tom can never completely finish any of the books purchased. And wouldn't Tom have run away the moment he saw that cursed purple lurple coming? |
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Post by Salzmank on Aug 10, 2017 2:35:28 GMT
Ah, and Brimfin ... As I wrote, this is an excellent solution, Brimfin. It's very satisfying in its ironies and nuances, especially to my mind, which loves those kinds of things. With that said, I'll be somewhat mean (though not as much so as old Barnaby Weste, I hope!) and note some nitpicks I had (not really major criticisms, I hasten to add, but real nitpicks, to be honest). 1. While the fact that Billy Weste is a bad gambler is a given, is he so much a gambler that he would rather take that chance than be sure about paying off his debts? To be sure, we may claim that he let the concept of the gamble override his rational instinct. But is that consistent with what we've set forth before? We know that Bill Weste checked the envelope and was able to find nothing--but the very act of checking seems to indicate some level of care and, indeed, rational thought on his part. I can see Weste, the bad gambler, taking the chance if he definitely got something out of the exchange, even if it were less than the $100,000. But it seems unlikely, based on the (admittedly limited) information we have in the set-up, that he is that bad of a gambler.
1a. With that said, you seem to pre-empt this objection by adding, "...perhaps with instructions...to a goldmine or something..." That is another means by which I can see Bill Weste's gambling impulses overriding his rational ones: that Barnaby Weste had, in the past, hinted [falsely] to his grand-nephew that there was a map to a goldmine or something, in the form of that envelope.
1b. Either way, the point is this: why did Bill assume that the envelope was a map/code/secret/etc.? It seems quite a leap in logic. Given that he's a gambler, he's also probably greedy, and in that small amount of time in the set-up, there is little opportunity for him to come up with the assumption required.
2. While Barnaby Weste's meanness and nastiness is--again--a given, there must be a motive for his torture in this manner other than "he was mean"--a motive that may work for his post mortem torture of all his heirs, but why of Billy in particular? Did he really hate gambling or something?
3. While Bill's gaining the money would indeed "make no difference to a dead man," we know that Barnaby wants to "...score one more wicked deed from the grave." If Barnaby set this whole complicated plan in motion (not that I have any animus against complicated plans, let me add!), he definitely wanted to inflict some kind of psychological torture on his nephew (for reasons unknown, as noted in 2). But he couldn't be sure that, after his death, Billy would choose the envelope--which would make a difference to his setting up the plan before his death! Was he so much of a gambler, too, that he went to his grave hoping that Bill would choose the envelope?
Again, apologies if I come off as nitpicking too much, especially as your solution is so brilliant, but its brilliance is exactly why I've been so deeply thinking about it. Many thanks, Brimfin. I don't want to annoy all of you with comments--nitpicks--as long as this, but I'm still interested in everyone's thoughts--on my thoughts--on brimfin 's thoughts. Hm, that's a lot of thoughts... Anyone? Not to distract us too much from the current puzzle, but I was listening to the first episode of Author! Author! to copy down some more of its puzzles, and I thought up a caveat that would answer some of my nitpicky objections to Brimfin's clever answer: It's an extrapolation of my 1a point: what if Weste were well-known for a hidden fortune that he had previously hinted could/would be Bill's after his [Barnaby's] death? That would assuage 1, 1a, and 1b--and possibly 3 as well. 2 remains a problem, and points of 3 still remain (I think), but I think it would bolster the case a bit. |
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Pete
Sophomore
@petermorris
Posts: 111
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Post by Pete on Aug 10, 2017 9:05:22 GMT
The Last Page It is a method of sending a warning/ threat to a person named Page who is the last surviving member of his family that the Last Page is in danger of being removed. |
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Post by brimfin on Aug 11, 2017 1:14:52 GMT
Salzmank said: I appreciate the kind remarks about my solution and am not offended by any criticism or nit-picking. But honestly, at this point, it's just not important to me. You presented us with an invented story about a ludicrous situation where a man turns down a fortune for a plain blank envelope that you already specified didn't have any secret writing or rare stamps on it. We are then invited to come up with a plausible reason for this bizarre behavior. So I came up with the most logical one I could think of. I'm not surprised there are plenty of flaws in my reasoning. I frankly can't think of any explanation that anyone could come up with that wouldn't have flaws in it. I just did it for the fun and the challenge. If I were writing a novel or short story with this premise, then I'd want to delve into how I could change the narrative until it was something as plausible as I could get. But, as far as this puzzle goes, I've already moved on. No hard feelings. |
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Post by alfromni on Aug 11, 2017 10:01:40 GMT
Salzmank --- The Last Page (another scenario) The customer was a would-be member of an elite 30s New York Circle of gamesters and practical hoaxers named "The Incorrigibles", and the "last page" fiasco was a final test of many initiation rites to be achieved before being accepted. The address to where the defiled books were to be sent, was where the Circle met. The reason he was nervous was that during this transaction he had to be wearing women's underwear and high heels...and nothing else. He hoped that the Circle member watching him also had an extra eye looking out for any approaching cops. No particular reason why the last page of each book was ripped out, or that the total cost of books had to be $20. They were simply the rules decided upon for this particular test. The rules of each test were just thought up by Circle members and could have included any equally ridiculous actions thought up at the moment. The initiated passed the test without being arrested, and became a full member. Shortly afterwards he romanced and later married the lady who served the books, and who needfully proved to have a great sense of humour. --------- Does that pass the test?
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Post by Salzmank on Aug 11, 2017 12:54:13 GMT
Salzmank --- The Last Page (another scenario) The customer was a would-be member of an elite 30s New York Circle of gamesters and practical hoaxers named "The Incorrigibles", and the "last page" fiasco was a final test of many initiation rites to be achieved before being accepted. The address to where the defiled books were to be sent, was where the Circle met. The reason he was nervous was that during this transaction he had to be wearing women's underwear and high heels...and nothing else. He hoped that the Circle member watching him also had an extra eye looking out for any approaching cops. No particular reason why the last page of each book was ripped out, or that the total cost of books had to be $20. They were simply the rules decided upon for this particular test. The rules of each test were just thought up by Circle members and could have included any equally ridiculous actions thought up at the moment. The initiated passed the test and became a full member. Shortly afterwards he romanced and later married the lady who served the books, and who needfully proved to have a great sense of humour. --------- Does that pass the test? Oh, Lord, let's hope she had a great sense of humor for that scenario! But what "test"? |
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Post by alfromni on Aug 11, 2017 12:57:30 GMT
Did it pass all the stipulations laid down in the text? I think it did. You didn't mention the guy's dress. Actually I got the idea while watching "The Magic Flute", which has a somewhat Masonic theme. |
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Post by Salzmank on Aug 11, 2017 13:22:24 GMT
Did it pass all the stipulations laid down in the text? I think it did. You didn't mention the guy's dress. Actually I got the idea while watching "The Magic Flute", which has a somewhat Masonic theme. Ah, from the ridiculous to the sublime—from the set-up to The Magic Flute. It passed, it passed... I know jervistetch is working on a solution (and so am I) to "The Last Page," and I don't want to get brimfin annoyed again with nitpicking, but is anyone interested in another Author! Author!-esque problem. It's not actually from the show, but I thought of it the other day, and it fits the format... |
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Post by alfromni on Aug 11, 2017 13:28:04 GMT
~~~ "anyone interested in another Author! Author!-esque problem"~~~ Imo anytime you wish. |
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Post by Salzmank on Aug 11, 2017 14:20:50 GMT
All-righty, then... alfromni , jervistetch , brimfin , Pete , BATouttaheck , Primemovermithrax Pejorative (who just "liked" the OP—thanks!) “The Umbrella Worshipper” The setting is again New York City, in—well, let’s keep the Author! Author! theme going and say the late ‘30s. Mr. Smith is going home, merrily humming a tune to himself and swinging his umbrella. He puts it down for a moment to write something down in a book and then keeps on. Mrs. Smith and her friend Mrs. Jones are inside the house, watching this scene play out through the window. “There he goes again, with that umbrella!” says Mrs. Smith. “Aggie, I can’t understand it. It started last week, and I just can’t understand it!" “What’s wrong?” says Mrs. Jones, surprised. “Well, it’s like this: last week—on a beautiful sunny day, mind you—Richard says to me, ‘Hm. I think it’ll rain, Mary,’ takes the cheapest umbrella he can find, and has not put it down since!” “That's strange.. But he had to put it down some time, didn't he, Mary?” “Oh, yes. Well, one night…” “Oh, I know!” Mrs. Jones interrupts. “Richard works for that jewellery shop. Is there any chance that in the umbrella—oh, not to imply anything, Mary, but…” “Hm,” says Mrs. Smith, displeased. “Not my husband! But I did—well—maybe I did think of something like that, so I took the umbrella from him while he was sleeping and brought it to that cane manufacturer on 3rd St.” “And?” “And nothing! No secret compartments or anything to keep—well. It’s just a plain, ordinary umbrella—but ever since then Richard has guarded it jealousy. He keeps it at his bedside, he carries it to breakfast and dinner and work…” “Mary!” Mr. Smith has entered. “Have you seen my umbrella? I seem to have misplaced it. Oh, there it is outside—thank God!” “But why, dear?” asks Mrs. Smith, at the end of her tether. “You know I can’t tell you, Mary, but—it’s important, I assure you.” “You see?” Mrs. Smith tells Mrs. Jones. Mr. Smith has recently been checked by the company psychiatrist and been found free of psychoses, neuroses, obsessions, or other psychological hang-ups. Why, then, does he carry his umbrella with him everywhere and always?ETA: I have two potential solutions in case anyone's interested (which are two more than I had for "The Last Page"!) |
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Post by alfromni on Aug 11, 2017 17:41:11 GMT
Salzmank - "The Umbrella Worshipper" Mrs Smith only thought it was a cheap umbrella because it was plain like a cheap umbrella, but it was actually quite ancient. How Mr Smith came to be its owner is unknown. He hadn't used it too often. He didn't even like it much. It was quite coincidental that he picked it on the particularly fine day to which Mrs Smith referred. The day Mr Smith discovered the real powers of his cheap gamp. Mr Smith loved the songs of Harold Arlen and in opposition to the sunny day, he sat on a park bench, used his brolly like a conductor's baton, and started singing the song "Stormy Weather" (his favourite song after seeing it performed in The Cotton Club by Elizabeth Welch a few years earlier). He never got past the first "Stormy..." Suddenly lightning flashed and he was turned into the invisible crimefighting super-hero Stormy Smith with his wonder weapon "The Sword of Justice". On shouting the word "Weather", he reverted back to his normal self, and the wonder sword once again became the insignificant brolly. After that experience and a few adventures, of which Mrs Smith knew nothing about, he kept his umbrella with him at all times. Once she remarked "Wouldn't you like a new umbrella for Christmas dear? That old one's quite worn out!" Mr. Smith just smiled, and continued to write notes about an idea he had for compiling a new radio show, which he had provisionally entitled "Author! Author!". ============= That OK?
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Post by Salzmank on Aug 11, 2017 18:23:41 GMT
Salzmank - "The Umbrella Worshipper" Mrs Smith only thought it was a cheap umbrella because it was plain like a cheap umbrella, but it was actually quite ancient. How Mr Smith came to be its owner is unknown. He hadn't used it too often. He didn't even like it much. It was quite coincidental that he picked it on the particularly fine day to which Mrs Smith referred. The day Mr Smith discovered the real powers of his cheap gamp. Mr Smith loved the songs of Harold Arlen and in opposition to the sunny day, he sat on a park bench, used his brolly like a conductor's baton, and started singing the song "Stormy Weather" (his favourite song after seeing it performed in The Cotton Club by Elizabeth Welch a few years earlier). He never got past the first "Stormy..." Suddenly lightning flashed and he was turned into the invisible crimefighting super-hero Stormy Smith with his wonder weapon "The Sword of Justice". On shouting the word "Weather", he reverted back to his normal self, and the wonder sword once again became the insignificant brolly. After that experience and a few adventures, of which Mrs Smith knew nothing about, he kept his umbrella with him at all times. Once she remarked "Wouldn't you like a new umbrella for Christmas dear? That old one's quite worn out!" Mr. Smith just smiled, and continued to write notes about an idea he had for compiling a new radio show, which he had provisionally entitled "Author! Author!". ============= That OK? Wow. You have done the unthinkable—succeeded in leaving me speechless!  |
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Post by alfromni on Aug 11, 2017 18:38:49 GMT
Is that good or bad? |
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Post by Salzmank on Aug 11, 2017 22:35:13 GMT
Is that good or bad? Good. Unexpected, but very funny and inventive. |
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Post by Salzmank on Aug 12, 2017 0:05:54 GMT
If the members of the gang-- alfromni, jervistetch, brimfin, Pete, BATouttaheck--are interested, my thoughts on "The Umbrella Worshipper"... Solution 1: We know a number of pertinent facts from the set-up.
a) Mr. Smith is happy--indeed, contented--when he has his umbrella; he is (as we have seen) not happy or contented when he does not have his umbrella.
b) Mrs. Smith is a definite busybody, having gone to all the trouble of taking the umbrella while he was sleeping and telling her friend all about the situation.
c) Mr. Smith openly speaks about his obsession with the umbrella, but will not explain it.
From that, one could deduce that Mr. Smith is playing some kind of over-elaborate joke on his wife, but that doesn't seem to comport with his personality. Also, it seems unlikely that he would be so happy with the umbrella if he didn't know his wife was watching. Thus:
d) Mr. Smith works in a jewellery (or jewelry? I learned the former spelling at school, but I think the latter is the proper American usage) shop.
e) Mrs. Smith's first assumption (her protestations to one side) was that her husband is stealing jewellery.
f) Mrs. Smith knows that, at the time she sent the umbrella to be examined, there was no secret compartment.
Aye, there's the rub, ladies and gentlemen. "At the time she sent the umbrella to be examined"
This was my first thought on coming up with the puzzle: Mr. Smith intended to smuggle jewellery from the shop and knew the best way to prevent his boss from knowing was via his umbrella. But how to smuggle the jewels out without his wife noticing? Obviously, to convince his wife absolutely that the jewels could not be in the umbrella. Therefore: he makes a big deal with the umbrella, waiting and waiting for her to steal it. She finally does, and brings it to the cane manufacturer. (He can later check with said manufacturer later, just to be sure.) Of course, there's no secret compartment then.
After she returns it, he holds on jealously to the umbrella. Why? That is when he manufactures a secret compartment to hide the jewels in. Then he avoids the scrutiny of both his boss and his nosey wife.
In fact, now that I think of it, this deception is a bit (on a smaller scale) like the time-gimmick in Christie's Death on the Nile... Solution 2: A fundamentally different premise here. In the first, Mr. Smith was the villain, attempting to fool both his employer and his wife. Here, Mrs. Smith is the villainess. In reality, she is trying to prove that her husband is insane. After all, what are the facts? The majority of what we know about Smith's "obsession" is only the hearsay testimony of Mrs. Smith.
What are the only words that Smith actually says that we know he for sure he said? "Have you seen my umbrella? I seem to have misplaced it. Oh, there it is outside—thank God!" and "You know I can't tell you, Mary, but—it's important, I assure you."
Now the first statement is not too unnatural. Say, hypothetically, that it's a family heirloom--or that he simply doesn't like wasting money, and doesn't want to lose it. But he's somewhat embarrassed to say it in front of someone else he doesn't know very well: thus "you know I can't..."
What, then? If Smith didn't actually perform any of the "obsessive" behavior, let's say again that Mrs. S is trying to prove him nuts. In fact, advertising this fact and twisting her husband's words to convince her friends of Mr. S's "madness" is only the first part of her complicated plan to this end. I hope those two are OK. Again, when I first thought up this puzzle, those were the first solutions I conceived. |
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Post by Salzmank on Aug 12, 2017 0:35:10 GMT
And now my [limited] thoughts on "The Last Page"... alfromni and Pete have already covered the idea of secret codes (whether associated with Nazi sympathizers and Irish republicans or Doylean warnings to people named "Paige" or "Page"), and brimfin covered the concepts of (a) practical jokes and (b) setting a trap for a criminal, so I needs must develop some other kind of solution.-- G.K. Chesterton, "The Sign of the Broken Sword" Let us say that the man who rushed in has recently committed a murder--the identity of the victim is irrelevant, but let's say it's his uncle, a famous author. As he was dying, however, the victim left a Queenian dying clue: he crawled over to the bookcase, removed a book, and ripped out the last page of the book, which has his murderer's name on it. The murderer later finds this scene and puts the pieces together. He quickly gets rid of the page--puts it in the fireplace, for example. Now, logic would dictate that he could similarly get rid of the book, but there's a problem: the book was written by the victim, and everyone knew he had a copy (and only one copy). So what to do, what to do... However, if there were any other books, also with the last page missing--well, then, the police would not be directed just to that one book: they'd be distracted. Thus the murderer grows a forest in which to hide the leaf--a sea of books to hide one book. Ça va? It needs some logical tinkering, I know, but it's just a first draft. |
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Post by alfromni on Aug 12, 2017 20:19:42 GMT
Salzmank , BATouttaheck , Pete , brimfin , jervistetch Hi Guys; Below is a short story started by my son for a school exercise in creative writing. I helped him in certain places but it's mostly his own work. He finished and submitted at the bold A. I thought it was good enough to continue, but somehow never got round to it. Can you offer me a few synopses to help me so to do? The Burglars
Chapter 1. Trevor sat nervously, hardly daring to breathe or move his twelve year old head for fear he might be heard. He was glad to be hidden behind this thick mossy wall. It offered a strange sort of protection, as did the overhanging branches of the surrounding trees. A claustrophobic comfort, in the late chill of the dark autumn evening. With a whirr, the nearby village church clock announced it`s intention to strike, then chimed out nine times. Trevor wished he was at home with his recently widowed mum. She would kill him for being out so late. But a dare was a dare! Besides, it was a Friday night, no school in the morning. He had often passed the grey-bricked building, the rear of which he now found himself. Situated at a bend in the road, it used to be the lodge of a larger and much grander house, which had long since gone from decline to demolition, although traces of its bygone existence could still be detected. Even the lodge itself had lost its once proud statement of past authority, and now suffered the indignity of being the premises of a commercial venture. In short, a shop. This one storey building consisted of six rooms. The back four rooms as living quarters, two bedrooms a lounge and a kitchen, and the front two being the shop and a storeroom/office. An out-house had been attached and converted into a bathroom and toilet. It was here via an open window that the intended entrance was to be made. Rising from the damp, musty grass, he whispered to Peter, who had been steadfastly keeping dick over the top of the wall. "What's keeping him? It must be near time now?". In his heart Trevor hoped they would call the job off. "Sshh!" came a curt response. When they'd arrived, the front of the shop had been in darkness. They had sneaked around the back and Harry had told them to stay behind the wall. "I'll suss the place out. You two keep quiet...or else." Being the biggest, and the best fighter, Harry, their self appointed leader, wouldn't think twice about giving you a punch in the mouth. Ascertaining all was safe, he had jumped unceremoniously over the top of the wall into the back yard, and moved slowly and melodramatically across its cobbles. Harry always did fancy himself as super-villain. Smirking quietly, Trevor had eased himself down to wait. Eventually after what seemed like an hour, but was probably only ten or fifteen minutes, the leader returned, red-faced and sweating. He gasped for air and tried to speak. His lungs and vocal chords were fighting a war and by the sound of it the lungs were winning. After a while his face returned to it`s natural colour and his breathing to it`s normal pace. With help from the others, he clambered back over the wall explaining, "The old bitch very near caught me an` all for nothin`!" She was in the storeroom messin` around with books an` things." Trevor was concerned. He hadn`t really wanted any part in this, he`d been cajoled and dared into being there, and all this cloak and dagger stuff was not his scene at all. But, he repeated to himself, it was after all a dare, and a dare was a dare. Okay, he`d pilfered chocolate bars and the like from the supermarket, and got away with it, but that was slap on the wrist stuff compared to this. This was big time crime, and there was a certain romance and excitement in being a dangerous criminal. But Trevor was not over enthusiastic about this particular job. He liked Mrs.Greenwood, the white-haired owner of the shop they were about to burgle. She was frail and muddle-headed, but a nice and very kind old lady who was loved by everyone. Everyone, he mused, except Harry, who had a grudge and a score to settle. Just what that grudge was, Trevor knew not. but Harry had intimated the fact quite clearly and had acquired the knowledge somehow that her son would be away for this one night. She would be on her own, and to make things even easier, she was hard of hearing. A perfect opportunity. "Did she see you?" asked Peter anxiously. "Naw, I don`t think so," came the reply. "but we`ll have to wait a bit. She`s late packin` up." "I thought you said she`d would be well finished by this time?" "So I was wrong. She always closes by seven. Always `as done. 'Ow was I to know she`d still knockin` about? I thought she`d be probably be asleep by now. D`you expect me to know everything?" "Yes," snapped Peter. "you`re supposed to be the brains." "She could be on the phone to the cops," said Trevor. "we`d best scarper." "Who cares about the police?" sneered their brave captain. "Why, you`re not scared, are you Trev?" asked Peter, who looked not a little scared himself. "Of course not!" retorted Trevor. "I just don`t see the point of getting ourselves lifted when we can come back another night." As they argued frantically in whispers about what to do...will they, won`t they, will they, won`t they?...they edged back round to the front of the building and on to the road. The shop windows were still in darkness. "We could wait," said Peter, "she bound to be finished soon." "She could be hours," observed Trevor. "I can`t wait here all night. Mum`d murder me." They looked at Harry for a decision, but then they saw something that made up their minds. An area police car came down the road and pulled into the the small parking space at the side of the shop. Two burly uniformed occupants alighted, stretched their legs and looked around. One of them rang the doorbell. A pause, the shop lights came on, and the door was opened. The intrepid villains made an almighty scramble to escape detection. Trevor fell and scraped his knee. He looked up for help, only to see the form of his gallant leader fleeing over the adjoining field like a bat out of hell, closely followed by an equally brave Peter. Trevor grimaced. "So much for mates" he growled. He limped along the road, gingerly peered at the policeman who was talking to Mrs Greenwood, and strained his ears to hear what was being said. "Very sensible to warn us you`d be on your own tonight madam. Everythin` OK?" "Silent as the grave officer. I`ve been trying to sort out my VAT. My son`s hopeless at figures. Thanks for calling." "We`ll keep an eye on you." "That`s very good of you. Is there anything I can get you?" He shook his head, but called back to ask the driver. "`Wagon Wheel` please Bert!" replied his partner, who squinted at Trevor shuffling by and trying to make himself invisible. "Hello there young Trevor," remarked this second arm of the law, "You be out late tonight. Hope you ain`t bin doin` nothin` you ain`t s`pos`d to be doin`?" Trevor shivered, stood still and stared intently at the ground. He said nothing, then looked up at a craggy face, and shook his head furiously. Although eying him with suspicion, the policeman displayed a friendly grin. "Well you`d best get on home afore yer mother starts to worry. Tain`t good for a young un like you to be out so late an` all on `is own. You run along now..." He bent over menacingly, wagged his finger, and growled, "afore I run you in for vagrancy" The overwhelming feeling of relief made Trevor retch. Fighting back the nausea he returned home as fast as his wounded knee would allow, and in all his short life he`d never been as glad to see the back door of his house. As he entered the kitchen his mother put down her smoothing iron and asked him where he`d been all this time. "Oh...nowhere, just mucking about. Didn`t realise what time it was" She didn`t reply, but from the look she gave him, it was obvious that somehow she`d guessed that he`d been up to some mischief or other. She shook her head gently from side to side and smiled. Trevor knew that smile. It meant he would probably get a right old tongue-lashing in the morning. But at the moment she simply turned her eyes to the ceiling, pointed in the same direction and said with a firm voice, "Wash, teeth, pyjamas, bed!" With a feeling of sickness still churning around his stomach, and thoughts of fear and shame reeling around his head, he furtively slinked upstairs. He wondered what "vagrancy" was. Sounded like something serious. His last thoughts before finally falling asleep were on the lines that maybe the romantic life of a dangerous criminal is not all it`s cracked up to be." A------------ The morning brought news that did nothing to dispel that view. Chapter 2. ..... --------------------------- MORNING. Mrs Greenwood is found beaten to death! a) Harry`s fingerprints on the window and round the shop b) Trevor was seen c) Harry's grudge? d) ? ================= Any ideas how to proceed guys?
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I like the story about your friends--just the sort of thing that friends with the same birthday would do. I suppose #2 would work even if 
