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The Chapel - Part 11 The Chapel - Part 11
by Theodore K. Nasos
2016-01-12 12:01:18
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“I didn’t expect to see you so soon Sir John.” Harold Feelgood, the pastor looked calmed while playing with his sideburns. Somehow his movements made me nervous. “And I can see that you brought company with you. How are you Chief Inspector Bennett, today?” Bennett nodded his hello not saying a word.

“I suppose your visit has to do with my late blessing to a dying man.” The pastor said with no hesitation finding at least me, off guard. Bennett tried to say something but it was Sir John who started the questions.

“Were you expecting us?”

“Of course I did. I would never hide my visit to a dying man.”

“But you did!”

“You are here!”

“Not because anybody told us that you were there! Actually nobody saw you entering or exit the building.”

“That is unfortunate but you know as well as I do that I was there.” 

jon01“He is definitely a psychopath and he’s playing us.” It was an hour later and this time there were the three of us sitting in Sir John’s comfortable study, whisky in hands and the fire worming our frozen bones. Sir John was angry and despite the twist in the case, Bennett was the calmer of us three.

“Sir John there is too little I can do with the pastor. He confessed that he was there, he confessed that he was the one to cross the victim’s arms and he pointed that if he was guilty he would have hidden his visit to the victim with simply doing nothing that would incriminate him. And he is right. There is nothing that incriminates him except …not calling us when he found the body.”

“And why he didn’t call?”

“He didn’t think of it, an old fashion man as he is, he went out looking for a policeman.”

“From the back door? For God’s sake Christopher, do you understand what you say?”

“I say that there are trace is here and there but nothing solid. No evidence! That’s what I’m saying!”

“OK fine,” Sir John said looking very serious, “Let’s take the whole thing from the beginning.” And he started telling Chief Inspector Christopher Bennett the whole story from the very beginning. Since the big war and his meeting with the wild cats while Frank was hiding somewhere.

Bennett was angry in the beginning and a couple of times he murmured, “I knew it! I knew that you didn’t tell me everything.” But both times Sir John looked at him and said: “stop it Christopher, don’t act like a kid. I had my reasons.” And the whole story finished with the cylinder laying on the table in front of us!

“What the hell?” Was the only think Bennett had said. And it was exactly the same thing I was thinking while listening the story from the beginning and looking at the strange cylinder. “And there is nothing inside this thing?”

“If you don’t call dust something, then there is absolutely nothing in here.” Sir John answered quietly. “So, what the hell is going on?” Chief Inspector Christopher Bennett stood up and lit a new cigar letting the smoke to surround his head. It was obvious that he was trying to think of possible answers but when Sir John is not able to end in logical conclusions the rest of us are simply lost.

jon02_400_01“There is nothing supernatural about, Sir John, is it?”

“What do you mean by supernatural?”

“You know, these mambo jumbo stories coming from Africa.”

“There is nothing …mambo jumbo in the stories coming from Africa Christopher, we are the ones who make them sound mango jumbo! A lot of them are superstitions but which nation in this world doesn’t have its own superstitions? And the ones that aren’t superstitions always have a logical reasoning behind them.”

“Oh come now John, I know you believe some of these stories, after all you were there with this Frank character.”

“Yes, I was there.” Sir John said quietly slowly bending his head.

“Aha, there is more here, isn’t it?” Bennett knew Sir John long before I met him and it was obvious that they had shared some adventures and conversations I was never aware off. Still I knew that Sir John was not immune of the supernatural and that some stories he had lived didn’t have a logic explanation.

“There was a legend back then,” Sir John started making both of us, Bennett and me to return to our sits. “It had to do with an old wizard or shaman who had put three curses in three different boxes, or at least something like that, and he had given them to three warriors to keep them.” Sir John took a deep breath and continued.

“The legend has it that when the last shaman dies it means that the tribe is over and the last warrior must unite the boxes. The legend also has it that the end of the tribe will come from outside and revenge is in order. And revenge is what the three boxes united will do.”

We looked at each other and then at the cylinder. A curse in a metallic cylinder. The one third of a curse.

 

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Part 1 - Part 2 - Part 3 - Part 4 - Part 5 - Part 6 - Part 7 - Part 8 - Part 9 - Part 10 - Part 11 -

 


   
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