Welcome to SWW Productions! In this site you will find poems, odd ramblings, strange stories, videos and updates on any new books I have published. Enjoy your stay!
Also take a look at:
My Games
Play Give 'em Hell
Play Elfin Quest
Witches Brew a short text based adventure game!
Also take a look at:
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My Books
So Jim made himself at home in the Bankers House…
My house…
Whenever things were going good for him, Jim always began to start feeling very anxious…
Good luck and good things were rare, almost never occurring commodities in the life of a man like Jim.
But was it finally his time?
Had Jim finally been dealt the break he had always been looking for since his parents threw him out of the family house at the age of sixteen?
Had the sad drunken loner loser become a Banker, a member of the elite and the manager of a vast mansion house?
Jim was still waiting to wake up in his old apartment back in Wently, lying in his old greasy bunker with a stiff back and a crick in his neck.
But a whole week went by, Jim counted the days every single one, and it never happened. He never woke up.
So the dream was real.
Excellent!
Time to relax.
Time to enjoy oneself.
Time to…
O!
There is somebody knocking at the door!
Who could that be?
A friend with the intent on engaging in a cozy chat?
NO…
Actually it was old nemesis DC Peddler.
The detective constable entered the building without an invite:
‘The new Banker in town, hey? How nice for you,’ he said.
‘Yes it is actually,’ Jim replied and then he asked what the detective constable wanted.
Jim had to do exercises, summersaults, in his brain to keep him back from assaulting the ignorant twit of the law standing at his door.
Of all the people in Fenwick Jim hated Peddler the most.
As far as Jim was concerned Peddler was a jumped up idiot (which he was), and he abused his power to the hilt. Peddler was also very unpleasant to be around - all he ever did was doll out threats. From Jim’s point of view, how could any human being be a friend with somebody so vicious rotten?
Jim really wanted to punch Peddler.
But he did not.
Jim was just about intelligent enough to realise that such an act would hand him a free ticket into jail.
But that was DC Peddler’s game of course, wind Jim up enough so he would drop his guard and perform a foolish act. Give the detective constable an excuse to get the cuffs out. That was the game, indeed, and Jim was not going to play it as enticing though it was.
Instead Jim pretended to be nice, and was horribly polite. This move had the opposite effect of winding up the constable…
…But that was the aim of the Game…
‘It is very nice to see you again DC Peddler,’ said Jim. ‘It’s always refreshing to behold a friendly familiar face! It’s been a while since we lasted talked, Mr Peddler? Is this a social call? Might I offer you a tea? We have some very fine wine below…’
‘I am not allowed to drink on duty but a small glass of wine will not hurt the gullet nor the badge,’ DC Peddler replied. ‘I am going to be frank with you, Jim. This is NOT a social visit. I need to have a very heavy talk with you. Hopefully now is a good time? It would be a very unfortunate thing if it wasn’t.’
Jim led the constable inside and then onwards and into the guest room.
Peddler made himself comfortable in the nearby armchair while Jim poured the man a drink.
‘Napoleon Brandy! Just the thing to keep the gloomy chill at bay,’ said Jim as he handed the constable the drink.
DC Peddler took the drink in one brisk swoop and a few seconds later had the contents sloshed down his gullet.
He placed the empty glass on the nearby table and sighed. ‘I am here on police business,’ he said, finally.
‘Well that is good to hear,’ said Jim. ‘If you were here for anything else then I really would be worried!’
‘A citizen of this town has gone missing. It is common knowledge by all that you are a long time friend of a certain Mr Butch Mayflower?’
‘Yes. I knew him… sort of?’
‘Really? The word in town is that you were both business partners?’
‘We were…’
‘Then you must have known the man really well?’
‘No. Everything that went on between Butch and myself was strictly business. And that is all. There were one or two meetings, for example, but most of our dialogue took place over irregular phone calls.’
‘But you lived in the same house as him, did you not? I mean everyone in town knows you lived with Butch in Rod’s house. Even I have seen you two together, many times actually; you were always sitting across a table in the Short Tailed Fox sharing drinks? In fact most times I took you in for questioning you were in the company of Mr Mayflower. Is what I am saying not true?’
‘It’s… reasonably true. Sort of. Not really. Again I must stand my ground - all business between Butch and myself was just business and nothing more than that. We were NOT friends.’
‘But you did know him?’
‘Yes?’
‘And you did live with him?’
‘Yes?’
‘For a very long time?’
‘Yes… Is this going anywhere? Is this conversation actually going anywhere, Mr Peddler? I want to help you, of course, it’s just I am a busy man… Need I remind you that I am the Banker these days and such a position comes packaged with a lot of chores… and things…’
‘Of course! I respect that, Jim. You have gone up in the wold! I expect you are very busy these days, what with your nice title as well as having your own brewery business to deal with. But may I remind you that a man in town, and a particularly well known one at that, has gone missing! And he just so happens to be a man that you were very closely associated with, so you understand why I am here and why I need to talk to you about it? Are you catching my drift? This is a very important matter, Jim. If someone as popular as Butch Mayflower goes missing then all eyes and questions are going to end up being aimed your way, especially after your other business partner Mr Rodney Strong-Hand Masterson was found dead. Did you know that his dead body was discovered in the same house where you all ran your business? A local squatter alerted us to him. Now I am not blaming you for Rod Masterson’s death, my people know his sad demise was linked to the ongoing movements of the Brazilian Cartel. We are aware that there is a rather savage turf war going on right now in the streets of Fenwick. But that’s not what I am here about. I am here about a missing man. A man you were very closely connected to whether you are going to admit it or not. You did business with Butch, not only that but you drank with the man you lived with the man. Now I want to know why he has carried out a vanish act a mere week after the death of your other associate Mr Masterson. Don’t look so nervous, Jim! You have got nothing to worry about have you? I mean you are not involved in the mans disappearance, are you? All I want is to ask you a few questions, gather some intel to help the police with their inquiries. We are going to find Butch, no matter what, Mr Jim. So you might as well help us out. You acting stupid, like you never knew Butch, the man you lived with, is going to make you look very very very … how can I put it? O yes! Guilty. Are you starting to catch my drift, Jim?’
‘Very well. My ears are here, speak into them. I will listen to you and do my best to answer your questions as honestly as possible.’
‘Very good,’ DC Peddler replied. ‘My first question is this:
‘How close were you to the missing person?’
‘I hardly knew him,’ Jim replied.
‘We have already been over this! You lived in the same house as the man! So you must have known him!’
‘Why do you think so? I lived with my Mum and Dad for years as a child and never really knew them!’
‘This is different!’
‘No its not! Butch and I were in the same building for a few weeks. There is a BIG difference between a few weeks and fifteen years, you hopefully agree? He helped me brew my recipe. An excellent alcoholic beverage known locally as G-Juice. I have a batch brewed up already. Can I interest you in a sample…?’
‘No thanks. I only allow myself one drink while on duty. Anyway. I haven’t finishing questioning you. We can do this down the station if you prefer?’
‘NO! Here will be just fine. Thank you. Carry on with you questions, constable. I will answer them as best and as truthfully as I may.’
So DC Peddler continued:
‘When was the last time you saw the missing person?’
‘No idea,’ Jim replied. ‘I am going to guess that it must have been sometime before he went missing?’
DC Peddler drew out a notepad and pen and started writing something down. As he was writing he said this:
‘So you can confidently say you did not see the missing person before or after they went missing?’
Jim replied that this was true.
DC Peddler scribbled down more words onto his notepad.
‘Ever thought the Cartel might be involved with the disappearance?’ Jim spoke up. ‘I mean it would not be a coincidence. Really, if you think about it. After all, they killed Rod and set fire to his house. Maybe Butch was just caught up in the massacre? It sounds logical to me.’
Listening to this DC Peddler finally stopped scribbling and tucked his pen and notebook away.
‘I have lived and worked here in Fenwick all my life and nothing has ever happened. Nothing except peace and quiet. Then everything changed after you turned up in town, Jim. Funny isn’t it?’
‘Maybe you just weren’t working hard enough,’ Jim replied.
‘There was always a bit of petty crime here and there, that is just the way it is in quiet towns like Fenwick, but when you turned up on our streets we have encountered multiple murders as well as a full scale war.’
‘And your point is?’
‘Maybe you are part of the cartel? Maybe you are in cahoots with Brazilians!’
‘Ridiculous!’ Jim retorted. ‘I have never even visited the country. I don’t travel! The furthest abroad I have ever been to is Wales, and that was only because my parents moved there.’
‘Don’t play the fool with me, Jim,’ DC Peddler returned. ‘This is the modern age. The age of computers and the internet. How do I not know you haven’t been communicating with the Brazilians via the world wide web?’
‘Because it is ridiculous! I can’t even speak the language! Listen to me talk, for goodness spake, I don’t even know English that well, let alone whatever it is they speak over there…’
‘So we reach my next question, Jim, did you ever learn to speak Portuguese at school?’
‘I did indeed it was my favourite lesson!’
‘Ah indeed! Now we get down to the nitty gritty. So you understand Portuguese? So it would be easy for you to communicate to the Brazilian Cartel, seeing as you know the language of that country so well?’
Damn it!
Jim had foolishly navigated himself into DC Peddler's finely prepared trap!
Now what was Jim to do?
DC Peddler brought his pen and notebook back out and mouthed out loud the next few words he jotted down:
‘Jim can speak the language of the Brazilian Cartel…’
‘Don’t do this to me,’ Jim replied.
DC Peddler replied with a quizzical look.
‘Don’t try to set me up,’ Jim continued. ‘I am not involved in any of this. I know times are crazy right now, but it is all a coincidence! I swear. Leave me be. Let me live my life in peace. Things are good for me right now and I do not want to lose that happy fuzzy feeling I am enjoying right now. It’s the first time I have ever felt happy and fuzzy without drinking good hard whiskey!’
‘Yes! You have gone up in the world, indeed, Mr Jim, another great coincidence,’ the constable replied accusingly. ‘Don’t look so sad and lost, Jim. Try to look at it from my point of view. You appear out of nowhere. You step off of a train into a town you have to my knowledge never been to before, and within a few months you are in charge of all the business of this place. It all looks very suspicious to me, Jim.’
‘Well that proves my innocence then,’ Jim relied.
‘How so?’
‘Well if I was guilty would I not try to do a better job of covering up my heinous deeds?’
DC Peddler tapped his chin with his pen in deep thought.
‘Yes. You do have a point there, Jim,’ he replied finally. ‘I shall go now!’ DC Peddler made his way to the front door saying:
‘This is not over Jim!’
‘Well it should be,’ Jim replied. ‘This is tantamount to harassment! You have given me nothing but grief since I arrived in town! I demand that you back off! Forthwith! Unless you would like me to make a complaint?’
‘O yes? A complaint to who?’ the constable replied, smugly, and genuinely intrigued by what Jim had to say in response.
But here Jim fell quiet, because really he had nothing to say.
‘Perhaps you could complain to the police… but O! I am the police, what a shame hey, Jim?’
DC Peddler was obviously enjoying the power he had over Jim in that dark moment.
‘You are a disgrace,’ Jim replied. ‘There are real crimes being carried out on the streets as we speak, but here you are pressing a defenceless man who is just trying to get by in a hard world. Shame on you! Why don’t you get out there and do your job and catch real criminals!’
The Mr polite man act was over…
Jim was mad and you could hear it in his voice.
But DC Peddler turned around, quite calmly, and he returned to Jim and speaking directly into the other mans face he said this:
‘I don’t like you Jim. I never have. In fact I have got a nice cell already for you. All I need is the evidence, and then we can fit you in. When that happens it will be a happy time for the police of Fenwick Town. And especially for me. I will have brought you down, Jim. I know you are part of something big. I know you are dangerous. Busting you will be the biggest win of my career, and I cannot wait. You are finished Jim. Every criminal leaves breadcrumbs, except you! Your crumbs are large enough to suffocate a swan, and that is why it won’t be hard nailing you. I say this because it is SO obvious you are behind all these many disappearances and murders. It won’t be long now before we get you. It will happen. O yes son! We will be closing that cell door on you within the next few weeks I am sure of it. So enjoy your freedom while you can,’ he said spitefully.
Jim heard this and sneered.
‘Your fixation with me makes you look like a weirdo you know that?’ he replied.
‘Takes one to know one,’ DC Peddler replied, curtly.
‘You are an idiot if you think you can frame me…’
‘I am not going to frame you Jim,’ the constable replied. ‘I am just going to catch you in the act. And then it will be over for you once and for all. You are the bane of Fenwick and I mean to destroy you.’
‘You are mad!’ Jim cried. ‘Now you listen to me, DC Twat, or whatever your name is. You are never to step a foot in my house again! You are not welcome here. You are not my friend!’
‘I am glad to hear it,’ Peddler replied. ‘We should not be friends. We are VERY different people, you and I Jim. But there is one thing that we do have in common: we both enjoy a good hard drink.’
And with those final words left behind the meddlesome constable went through the door and was gone.
Jim was furious.
He closed the door with a big slam.
O gosh!
He wanted to kill the man, he really did.
He wanted DC Peddler dead!
What was the point in being the Banker when Jim could be freely threatened by the local constabulary?
Surely being part of the Tailor Order gave him some kind of authority?
Jim should have immunity from the law by right!
O yes!
That was how he felt in the moment.
Whatever, Jim was done with DC Peddler.
Jim was going to complain to the High Command!
He made a quick call to the Castle and demanded the ear of Mr Grey.
It was time to nip this rotten old bud in the root, and end it once and for all.
It was time to get rid of DC Peddler…
Also take a look at:
My Games
Play Give 'em Hell
Play Elfin Quest
Witches Brew a short text based adventure game!
Also take a look at:
My YouTube Channel
My Books
Jim was back on the train.
And there was Mr Grey waiting for him and he was very pleased with Jim’s work.
‘Excellent job. You have done well dealing with Butch,’ said Mr Grey. ‘I am glad you are with us, Jim. You carry the mark and now you have carried out the deed. You are already making a very fine Tailor! The future is looking quite bright for you, Jim. So long as you bow your head and work hard. Which I know you will. I have one more task for you…’
Hearing this frightened Jim deeply.
What was the madman going to ask him to do next?
Grey held out his hand and ordered Jim to kiss the bejewelled ring on his middle finger.
Jim did so, very awkwardly, but he did it nonetheless.
Jim did not want to upset a man this powerful and dangerous man, not when they were seemingly on such good terms.
But Grey did appear to be happy with Jim in that moment.
‘I have a gift for you,’ Grey continued.
O yes? How interesting!
Pray tell more!
My ears are yours, Mr Grey!
All ears both ears indeed!
Grey handed Jim a rectangular leaden box about 12.6 in width and: 5.5 in height.
‘O what’s this then!’ said Jim excitedly. ‘You know that one gram of radium is worth a lot of money…?’
Jim was joking, of course, but the robotic face of Mr Grey did not appreciate it.
Grey winced not one single atom of a smile.
‘Better than that,’ Grey replied. ‘You will find inside this box the deeds to the bankers house. The old Banker has passed away, voluntarily of course, and his position is now yours! Enjoy it, Jim. You are a man of import in town. And for your knowledge, radium is not worth a lot in Fenwick. With all the railroads being closed you won’t be able to sell it to anybody, and nobody in this town would ever buy it. However, the humble piece of paper lying inside this box is worth the dreams of many men. You have come far, Jim. So take the box, and I say again to you with all my heart, enjoy.’
‘I am flattered! And I really do feel like I do not deserve this, but well, I will certainly not say no. Of course not,’ Jim replied, humbly. ‘I would indeed be stupid to refuse such a fine gift! I am looking forward to serving as the new Banker. So do I really get to live in that big old house by the gate?’
‘That and more,’ Grey replied. ‘You will attend the great meetings of the Tailors. You will offer counsel. You are now a part of the fabric of Fenwick. There are those who grease the wheels of this town - and then there are those who control the wheels - and that is where you are right now, Jim.’
Jim replied, saying that he embraced the position with relish.
‘Tomorrow you will occupy your new home,’ said Grey. ‘Your first task will be to invite Tony King to your table. You will assure him that your contract with him is secure, and you are ready and willing to supply him with all the G-Juice his business requires. We need that contract, Jim. Your business is now the Tailors business, and we need the money to fight the war with the Brazilians.’
‘I am with you, Grey, and I thank you for all that you have done for me! But I cannot brew the juice anymore,’ said Jim. ‘I don’t have a brewery anymore. Well, to be honest, we never had one to begin with, but Butch and I used to cook the stuff in the cellar beneath Rod’s house. But now Rod is dead and his house is gutted and controlled by the Brazilians… I still have the recipe, of course, in my head as always! But I have absolutely no equipment to work with!’
‘It matters not what has become of Rod’s old house,’ Grey replied, in his cold robotic voice. ‘Yes. The Rod residency has fallen behind enemy lines in recent times, but the Tailors have made preparations for a counterstrike. You do not need Rod’s house to work any longer. In fact you do not need to work at all! We have built a new brewery close to the eastern wall of the town. It is disguised as an abandoned warehouse, but it is completely under Tailor control. I have employed a select pick of men to run the brewery, and they are ready to brew the juice… All they need is the recipe, and then they can get to work!’
It seemed that Grey had a plan for everything!
And then he went on to say this:
‘This new brewery will be able to keep up with Tony King’s demands. In time we will be able to expand. The more G-Juice we can sell the more money we can make, and the more money that we have the better able we will be to fight the war…’
‘I think this plan is great,’ said Jim. ‘But my recipe for G-Juice is a secret! I can’t give it away! I am being serious here. I will never joke about this! It is the only leverage I have right now! And the recipe is not written on paper anymore! It is ALL memorised up here in this old brain of mine. I am not going to give away such knowledge freely. If that upsets you then, do what you will. But I can’t just give you the recipe for free…’
‘But you won’t be giving it for free,’ Grey replied. ‘I have just made you the Banker of the Town. You have access to the castle gates. You are the second most powerful person in Fenwick. You hold the deeds to such power right now in your hands! We are allies, Jim, and we have to work together if we have any hope of surviving. I am being serious now! As we speak there is a war going on in the streets! A war we could very well lose at any time. I can’t afford that. None of us can. Money is the key to breaking the stranglehold the Brazilians have over this town. And G-Juice is going to make the money we need to win!’
‘I hear you, Mr Grey. And I respect you and I like you. You have done a lot for me in the brief time we have known one another. But I still need leverage. Look at it from my point of view. There is a war going on. All my friends are dead. The old Banker disappears voluntarily. I get a bit of paper, a nice lead box and well here we are. Who is to say that someone won’t try to make ME disappear voluntarily as well? Do you catch my meaning now, Mr Grey? So the recipe stays in my head. At least until I have made enough money for myself to fly, or sail away to some nice island somewhere with palm trees and sunny weather. Somewhere, preferably, where there is not a war going on and there are people out and about trying to kill me, or inject me with hormone drugs.’
Grey knew he had been beaten in the discussion:
There were no metaphorical corners for him to swerve around - Jim had him in a gibbet and Grey knew it.
Without the recipe for G-Juice the Tailors were finished…
After a horrible minute of silence had come and gone the robot-like man sighed heavy and replied:
‘Very well, Jim. I understand and respect the position that you are in. Life is cheap in these times of war, friends are few and far between. Alliances are bridges waiting to be burned. A man needs a castle to call his own. So respectfully I will go along with your game. This is what I propose,’ said Grey. ‘You manage my people in the brewery. You direct the brewing of the drink. But the secret to the recipe will remain your prize alone. What say you to that, Jim?’
‘I say that is a very fine plan,’ Jim replied.
‘Excellent! Then let us drink to our success!’
Drink?
‘Can I ask a question?’ said Jim. ‘Just this one question, and that is it. I will drink with you. I will celebrate with you. I will make money with you. I will fight your war for you: But please answer this one thing - why did you want me to kill Butch? I mean, what I am trying to say is this - it doesn’t make sense tome why you wanted the man dead?’
‘I didn’t want him dead,’ Grey replied, in his cold robotic voice.
Jim was astonished by this response.
Grey continued:
‘We Tailors take a big risk when we recruit a new member. The risk is even greater when it is an outsider. Butch was loyal. I liked him. And so did you. He was your personal friend. He had your back in the streets. You respected him and you needed him. If you were ready to kill such a fellow for the cause, then well, I knew we had a fellow Tailor in the making. So welcome aboard, Jim! Drink it in and enjoy yourself, the new Banker in Fenwick. Sacrifice is essential to success, my friend. I think you have lived in this town long enough to understand that now.’
Grey took out a litre bottle of wine from a wooden box - Fenwick reserve - was written on the box.
‘I didn’t think you drunk alcohol?’ said Jim. ‘Sorry for me bringing this up, Mr Grey, it’s just something I remember you saying from our last conversation… As an alcoholic myself I have a habit of remembering such things’
‘Read the label. 0%,’ Grey replied.
Of course.
How nice.
A non alcoholic drink of wine with a lifeless robot man.
What a pleasant evening it was promising to be.
Jim might as well been supping Pepsi from a fluted glass in front of the TV.
Also take a look at:
My Games
Play Give 'em Hell
Play Elfin Quest
Witches Brew a short text based adventure game!
Also take a look at:
My YouTube Channel
My Books
