Here is the next chapter of the novel. I think I am beginning to develop a rhythm. I am feeling very English all of a sudden. Oh, and I added two of you as characters to the story so far, so watch for it…
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HONOR MISPLACED
Arthur Browne
Chapter Two
“Hold on a minute, Billy,” Charlie said to the back of his departing compatriot. “You’d better have the Chief Inspector get in touch with Bomber Command. We should pop over and have a quick talk with the late Flight Lieutenant’s crew. They might be able to shed some light on his personal life. Try to set it up for later this afternoon, there’s a good fellow.”
He didn’t want to admit it to the younger man, but he was feeling rather out of his depth. This was by no means his first murder investigation. He had worked his way up through the ranks to achieve his position as a detective. He was not one of the benefactors of the thinning of the ranks of the Metropolitan Police Force as men left for military service. But this was the first time he had ever been involved in an investigation involving military personnel, not to mention one featuring a victim from such an illustrious family.
And that was going to present some problems. It was standard procedure to question the family of a murder victim. More often than not the murderer turned out to be someone either related to the deceased or someone they new, and the family was always a wealth of pertinent information. But one couldn’t just go around poking one’s nose into the private affairs of a family that was not only illustrious but was also known to be on friendly terms with the Royal Family.
As Billy left to carry out his instructions, Charlie took note once more of the location of the crime scene in his notes, and walked over to consult the large map of greater London pinned to the wall. He squinted in the dim light, adjusted his glasses, and found the spot he was seeking. He was surprised to find that the murder had occurred in a rundown section of old warehouses close to the river. Hardly the place one would expect to find a blue-blooded member of the aristocracy walking alone late on a Sunday night.
He pocketed his notebook and stub of a pencil after throwing on his long coat. He didn’t even know what the weather was like outside, but the morning had been overcast. Better safe than sorry. He strolled out of his little office and past the other members of the squad who were not so lucky as to have one yet, exchanging pleasantries with those that glanced up and caught his eye. He made his way down to the street and began walking, looking for the familiar shape of a London cab.
It didn’t take him long to spot one, and he raised a hand to signal the driver. The cab swung over to the curb immediately. “Hello, young Charlie,” boomed the driver, a ruddy-faced barge of a man named Elroy Jones. “Hop in, hop in, I’ll get you to where you need to be, have no doubt about that,” the cabbie bellowed in his thick North London drawl.
Charlie couldn’t help but smile. The best thing about having an uncle who drove a cab was that Charlie had known all these fellows since he was a lad. They never charged him for their services, but used the time to catch up on what Charlie had been up to and to pass on the juiciest news on the streets. Charlie had been alerted to nefarious goings on more times than he could remember, because nothing went on in the streets of London that the cabbies didn’t catch wind of.
Charlie told Elroy where he needed to go and off they set. Elroy had always been one of Charlie’s favorites. Elroy’s father had been an American who had moved to London in the decade before the turn of the century with a vague plan to start some sort of business enterprise going, but it had all come to naught. He had married a local shop girl and tried to settle down and become English, but eventually he had given it up as a bad job and departed for the United States, leaving a wife and a ten-year-old son with an unlikely name behind.
“Working on the Crowley case, are you, boy?” asked Elroy, the picture of innocence. Charlie knew full and well that the case wasn’t in the papers yet. He also knew there was no point in asking Elroy what else he knew. If it was anything important, Elroy would have gotten in touch with him. He deigned not to answer as he settled back in the comfortable seat for the short ride. “Your uncle Jack will be none too happy about all this. You know how he does go on about the Colonel.”
Major General Sir Edward Crowley would always be ‘the Colonel’ to uncle Jack.
Elroy Jones went on with a running monologue about where the German bombs had done damage to the city in the most recent raids. Charlie once again pondered the notion that there was nothing the cabbies of London did not know, between the fact that they were constantly racing around the city in their ubiquitous black vehicles and were usually ferrying people from all walks of life as they went. A cabbie who kept his ears open heard all sorts of talk from their passengers, and they all kept their ears open.
Charlie glanced out of the windows as they approached the river. Twice they had to divert to side streets as firemen fought the fires still raging from the earlier raid. Other streets were still piled with fresh rubble. “Oh, look what those bastards our doing to our city, boy,” moaned Elroy in genuine agony. “It’s like they’re stripping the flesh right off her bones.”
Charlie thought that was a beautifully worded description of what was occurring indeed. They arrived at their destination and he made his usual half-hearted attempt to make a payment of some sort. Elroy laughed him off with a wave. “Now now, boy, you never know when my wife might drive me to do away with her, and then I would certainly need to have you on my side, wouldn’t I? Now you get to work and solve this murder. I will just sit here and eat my lunch. You know those other cabbies wont waste their time slumming in this part of town. Too busy trying to get the big tips from the bigwigs to be seen in these parts.”
Charlie sighed and thanked him. He knew full well there was no sense in trying to get the man to change his mind. He climbed out of the cab and walked over to where a constable stood keeping a small crowd of onlookers away from the scene of the murder. They had no idea who it was that had been killed, and they didn’t care in the least. The body had long since been removed, but they didn’t care in the least. This was something different to take their minds off the war.
“Hello, Eustace,” said Charlie, recognizing the patrolman from the days when he still wore a uniform himself. “How are the wife and kids.” Eustace Esterhauze was a beefy fellow, and he carried himself with a certain elegant posture. Charlie had always assumed that this regal air was handed down from the constable’s father, who was a butler to a fine old family.
“Oh, can’t complain, all’s well, your lordship,” the man replied with a large, toothy grin, giving a slouching little bow and reaching up to touch the front of his helmet as though he were going to doff it. “And what brings your eminence out amongst the common folk? Surely not this little spot of bother here?” The constable waved a hand in the direction of another constable who was poking around in the rubble nearby.
“Well since you lot couldn’t solve a crime if you had actually witnessed it, I thought, of course, that you could use the vast storehouse of knowledge that we detectives have acquired over the years so as to allow you to get back to… whatever it is you do all day, constable.” Charlie was rather proud not only of this answer, but the fact that he had delivered the line in rather posh tones and without breaking into a smile.
But the constable was not to be outdone. “Well bless your Lordship for taking the trouble. My shoe seems to have come untied, and if you could spare a moment after you solve this case to show me once again how one manages to get those little strings into a pretty bow, I would be ever so grateful.”
Charlie couldn’t help letting out a somewhat undignified guffaw. “I know when I have been outclassed, and will retire while I still have my dignity. Carry on, constable, keep up the good work. We can’t have the urchins running roughshod over our evidence, now can we?” And with that he went on his way.
He chatted briefly with the other policeman, a man he did not know, and learned that there had still been nothing useful found at the scene of the crime despite a good going over by numerous members of the crime lab and a host of patrolmen since returned to their normal duties. He was also informed that the men had scoured the local streets looking for witnesses and none had been found.
Charlie thanked the man, poked around for a few minutes, checked the old watch once more, and returned to the cab after a brief goodbye to constable Esterhauze. He would consider his next move while he ate his customary Monday lunch with his uncle.
Pouring My Art Out 
Check your editing, you have a now for know or vice versa near the beginning of this chapter. Still keeping me interested!
We aren’t supposed to edit till the end for the NaNoWriMo thing.
I made the comment after NaNoWriMo was over because now I’m finished writing for November & I’m doing some reading – ha! 😉
I am going to finish the story, just not on time.
Lol love the shoe tie scene 🙂
I always try to add a little humor
Your dialogue is good; however, when I read Elroy the cabby, all I’m hearing is Dick van Dyke in Mary Poppins…this is not your fault…it’s Disney’s.
And we say cor blimey in our house every day…this is absolutely true. And I think it stems from the phrase “god blind me”; some will find it blasphemous and offensive…hence a daily utterance in our house.
I can’t really help you with WW2 Londoners’ dialogue per se, but Only Fools and Horses will stand you in good stead for a particular demographic.
Tell Trent about the cor blimey thing… I knew he was wrong… and I admit Elroy is over the top, but I met a cabbie who sounded like that… maybe I will tone it down in editing.
I’ve no doubt you’re right; I haven’t been in a hackney carriage for a many lot of years, and never spoke to the driver anyway!
I rode in exactly one cab… and it was hot pink…
Ah…I think I saw you on the news.
You must have seen some of them. There was more than one.
No, but I haven’t been to London in a long time…I believe you though!
How is this possible? You island is like the size of a football field, right?
Yes, but we are all the size of grass…small grass.
I forgot…
Great going! Really loved the tit for tat repartee that went on with Charlie and the constable. I’m amazed you handle ‘British’ so well. I know you don’t have the time to research. It must come naturally to American writers. Enjoyed it.
Thanks… and good news for you, if you still are really angry at the British… the Germans are killing them off, and so are at least one of my characters… so…
Awwww… I don’t like to kill people. Or watch them die.
Then you aren’t nearly angry enough about all they did to your country, are you?
You are confused. I don’t wan’t to kill them. I just want to destroy them, make them beg for freedom, recover the Kohinoor, and maybe use it rule the world. You’ve got everything backwards.
That is good to know… the world needs more evil villains.
Indeed. there cannot be heroes without villains.
true dat
Hmm… I thought you were too old to say that…
well… I am… but I have kids… so…
where would superman be today without ol’ Lex
sleeping with Lois Lane?
Naah man. That would be illegal.
insert man of steel joke here____________
roger that
ha
Good dialogue all the way around. I like the name Eustace. How many words do you have so far?
I will check after chapter thee.
Hee hee… Eustace Esterhauze, and Elroy Jones!!!!!! 😉 😀
So funny! What a good idea!
This is a fun way to pick names for a story.
Very interactive, and original – I love it!
me too.
Read chapter three…
Oh nooooo…. I was looking forward to it yesterday, and now I have butterflies in my stomach. (gulp) Here goes… I’m coming to read about that noble barmaid…
Don’t make me add you to the list of murder victims!
Arghh! I will behave, promise!
Then you are safe.
And now I have to wait for the next bit, I’m terrible at this waiting business…
But this time it will be worth it.
It’s always worth the wait over here 🙂
awww…. or do you mean ‘over here’ as in where you live???
Lord help us. Not bad at all, however. Must read.
Don’t start at chapter three, cor blimey!
There is no such thing as “cor blimey” by the way. Understood, I will hearken back to the progenitor chapter and have my way with it… ever so gently, I might add.
I am pretty sure it was a slang phrase used by the Cockneys for at least a little while, but I am not going to Google it because I didn’t use it in the book. Or was it just something Eliza Doolittle said?
Don’t believe anything that saucy little tart says. She is really hard to understand.
Well next you will be telling me that the English never said ‘eh, wot?’ or ‘ow about a cuppa?’ or ‘what’s all this then?’ or ‘it’s a long way to Tiparrary’ or ‘sure and it’s a livin’ saint your after bein’… wait… that might be the Irish…
You are going to hell. But we have already established that, haven’t we?
But I have never been sent there by a Queen before!!!
Well, our Queen is a slippery slutty sort, so be careful. She does odd things with her pitchfork.
um… wow…
It’s a royal thing.
sure it is
Nice! I love the dialogue between Charlie and Eustace – very well done!
I think I can make good conversations. I did it in my sci-fi novels too. It makes a story more real. Thanks.
I’m really digging this!
no… isn’t it clashing with the sci-fi???
It’s not.
good… should I throw some aliens in just in case.
Aliens make everything better.
They do… some of them…