I've posted over at Novel Spaces about a local mystery. I think it's kind of interesting and would love to hear your thoughts if you get a chance to check it out. ----- -----
As a reporter, I have worked with police. But as a fiction writer, my frequently uncoverd hard facts of a case are sometimes bruised into fantasy. There is a schizophrenia in this writer between news reporter and creative type.
What you have observed does so parallen my own discovery some years ago, after a 20-year-old girl was probably cut up and murdered; there had been lots of blood on the scene,certainlly hers, but they couldn't find the body. She was last reported to be wearing bib overalls and Birkenstock boots.
On the way home one day, in a parking lot, just outside a used clothing store dumpster, I found lying there , bib overalls and ladies' Birkenstock boots.
Conflict: Could this have been a spillover from the dumpster, or had someone placed these items there for me to see, as I was known at the time as an investigative reporter. There was a jeweller in the town. He was known for weird goings-on, Funny games of Dungeons and Dragons, girls driven apparently mad by drugs, wandering the streets and mouthing Satanic mantras. They all knew the small town jeweller, said they'd gone to parties of his.
Now the alleged killer of the young girl was Dutch immigrant who days later, after the murder (with no haebas corpus)--hanged himself while beingt hard pressed in a deserted factoy by the omnisicient, inquiring police.
But was there a connection between the alleged murderer and the jeweller with the Satanic games bent? The articles of clothing I found could easily be the clothes of Tammy, from a newspaper account of these items; her body was never found, but she was certainly dead. DNA tests. But no actual body. body. But she had vanished from all who knew her. Disappeared into thin air. I had often seen the jeweller walking along this parking lot on the way to his store. To this day, we often exchange eye contact, and I have the weirdest feeling that he knows that I know what he knows. When I go to turn away, he says, "Ivan, are you feeling all right?"
I try not to give myself away.
My bureau editor at the Toronto Star used to say, "something has to happen three times before it's a fact." The clothing lay there for three days, even after the waste management folks took away the well-stuffed dumpster. I contacted the police, but by the time they got there, the clothing was gone. It's a mystery that bothers me to this day. The murderous Flying Dutchman. The jeweller and his Whitney Streiber ways. What was answer to the puzzle?...And it's only stupid me with the bad eye who one day may have a clue.
Well, let's hope the exuberance* of teenagers. Reminds me of a Kubrick scene from Barry Lyndon. Aside from the eeriness of it all, is there really a Niblick Street? What a great name!
*I believe there's an extra "h" in the Novel Spaces version of this comment.
A fragment of "Where it Wanders"
ReplyDeleteThis is most fascinating.
ReplyDeleteAs a reporter, I have worked with police. But as a fiction writer, my frequently uncoverd hard facts of a case are sometimes bruised into fantasy. There is a schizophrenia in this writer between news reporter and creative type.
What you have observed does so parallen my own discovery some years ago, after a 20-year-old girl was
probably cut up and murdered; there had been lots of blood on the scene,certainlly hers, but they couldn't find the body. She was last reported to be wearing bib overalls and Birkenstock boots.
On the way home one day, in a parking lot, just outside a used clothing store dumpster, I found lying there , bib overalls and ladies' Birkenstock boots.
Conflict: Could this have been a spillover from the dumpster, or had someone placed these items there for me to see, as I was known at the time as an investigative reporter.
There was a jeweller in the town. He was known for weird goings-on, Funny games of Dungeons and Dragons, girls driven apparently mad by drugs, wandering the streets and mouthing Satanic mantras. They all knew the small town jeweller, said they'd gone to parties of his.
Now the alleged killer of the
young girl was Dutch immigrant who days later, after the murder (with no haebas corpus)--hanged himself while beingt hard pressed in a deserted factoy by the omnisicient, inquiring police.
But was there a connection between the alleged murderer and the jeweller with the Satanic games bent?
The articles of clothing I found could easily be the clothes of Tammy, from a newspaper account of these items; her body was never found, but she was certainly dead. DNA tests. But no actual body. body. But she had vanished from all who knew her. Disappeared into thin air.
I had often seen the jeweller walking along this parking lot on the way to his store.
To this day, we often exchange eye contact, and I have the weirdest feeling that he knows that I know what he knows. When I go to turn away, he says,
"Ivan, are you feeling all right?"
I try not to give myself away.
My bureau editor at the Toronto Star used to say, "something has to happen three times before it's a fact."
The clothing lay there for three days, even after the waste management folks took away the well-stuffed dumpster.
I contacted the police, but by the time they got there, the clothing was gone.
It's a mystery that bothers me to this day. The murderous Flying Dutchman. The jeweller and his Whitney Streiber ways.
What was answer to the puzzle?...And it's only stupid me with the bad eye who one day may have a clue.
fascnating istery, And here we hacve another: Why the message of Ivan shows up three time sin a row?
ReplyDeleteAbout what you say in Novel Spaces... Maybe a couple forgot his clothing?
Charles, FREAKY!!
ReplyDeleteDeka Black,
ReplyDeleteI never make misteaks. :)
David, that's a very good idea.
ReplyDeleteIvan, Definitely that is far more weird than my experience.
Deka, maybe Ivan is missing and this is a message from his doppleganger.
Jodi, indeed.
I took out Ivan's extra two!
ReplyDeleteIvan, i know, you make wonderful salads! ;)
ReplyDeleteCharles, disturbing. It is true and disturbing and no surprise the police won't check it out.
ReplyDeleteDeka, indeed.
ReplyDeleteRichard, I've discovered that most policemen don't really want to deal with anything resembling serious crime. Dangerous, I guess.
Thanks, Charles.
ReplyDeleteDeka Black,
I am a cultural hermaphrodite,who actually loves to cook. But,
I Я confused.
I often mix up the Maldive Republic with the Endive republic. :)
Ivan, all I heard was "hermaphrodite. " :)
ReplyDeleteCloudia, thankee.
Charles,
ReplyDeleteHeh.
I guess in Arkansas, I'd be Joe the Morph. :)
Ivan, Arkansas is not really known for its tolerance.
ReplyDeleteOn my way ...
ReplyDeleteMatthew, thankee!
ReplyDeleteWell, let's hope the exuberance* of teenagers. Reminds me of a Kubrick scene from Barry Lyndon. Aside from the eeriness of it all, is there really a Niblick Street? What a great name!
ReplyDelete*I believe there's an extra "h" in the Novel Spaces version of this comment.
Erik, what's an extra "h" among friends? :)
ReplyDeleteBoy, did this exchange take some odd turns...
ReplyDelete