Impostor Assassin (eBook)

PART 1: Blood Rain

THE ELDERLY MAN SWITCHED on his night lamp and got out of bed. His wife was still sound asleep sleeping beside him.

It was a wet wintry night and the moon was hidden behind the dark clouds.

It was cold and damp as the rains continued for the sixth consecutive day.

The weather was now more unpredictable, since the levels of pollution had increased over the last few decades.

Joseph Foxxen had heard a noise in the night, it came from the ground floor of his home.

It sounded like someone was prowling around in the darkness.

He had checked every door and window before he went to bed. He always checked to make sure that the house was secure after a fox had invaded their home years ago, when the children were young.

There were several reports in the news about thieves in the city.

Crime was on the rise in a city that used to be safe at one time and where people could leaves their front doors open.

Joseph was well aware of the reports and the statistics of the rise in crimes. This was common in all modern cities.

He had wanted to keep a gun at home to protect himself and his wife Doris.

But, Doris his peace loving wife was against keeping a gun or any type of fire-arm at home.

Joseph picked up the long metal rod he kept just behind the bedroom door. The rod was used as a curtain rod a few years ago, it was now his weapon of choice. Joseph was a tall man who was an athlete in his youth. He was now in his eighties and not as young and fit as he used to be.

He was not afraid of what or who he was going to confront in the night.

This was his house, his castle and no one had the right to invade his home.

He opened the door of their bedroom and crept downstairs, hoping that the person or persons would not hear him coming down the stairs.

The wooden floorboards seemed to sink under his feet, so he tried to walk on the carpeted areas of his home, so as to muffle the sound of his footsteps.

As he came downstairs he saw the lights in his study were on.

There was definitely a burglar on the premises.

As he moved as soundlessly as he could into his study-room, he saw a man going through his large bound investigative journal on the crime empire which he kept on his desk.

The room was a disaster zone and everything was thrown on the floor. Grandfather’s books, manuscripts and papers were all thrown around in the room. It looked as if a cyclone had hit the room. All he needed to do was to hit the intruder on the back of his head, which was turned to him.

Joseph was not prepared for what happened next, it was too quick for him to react.

The man turned around in a swift movement.

The intruder was wearing a mask and he had a gun in his hand.

At that instant Joseph wished he had a gun to defend himself. This was not a burglar, this man was an assassin and he was the target.

It was too late for Joseph as the man raised his gun and Joseph saw the bullet come straight towards him.

THERE COULD BE A BODY lying hidden somewhere in this place, I thought to myself.

The room was overcrowded. There were books and papers everywhere. The floor could not be seen.

There was not enough space to walk through the room to get to the window.

Somehow, Grandma managed to open that window every morning since Grandfather passed away tragically a year ago, when he surprised a burglar at home.

There were books everywhere you looked. The room resembled a study, a library or a publishing house in disarray.

It must have been a year since my Grandfather passed away. I was very close to my Grandfather and I can still clearly remember all the stories he would tell us about his years in the war, when we were growing up as children. Grandpa Joe was always hammering away on his old Remington typewriter. Grandma always complained about the stacks of scrapbooks, manuscripts, notes and piles of papers which he would stack in all corners of the bedroom, the living room and there were even a few mounds of books climbing their way up to the ceiling.

Grandpa Joe had so many stories to tell us as we were growing up, some were fairy tales, some were science fiction, and some were great thrillers. The ideas and the way he would tell the stories were really interesting and very inspiring. Grandpa, was also a regular storyteller at the local Junior School, where he would conduct his Creative Expressions English Classes. The children loved Grandpa Joe “The Storyteller”.

I was now visiting my Grandma at home. I looked around the house and noticed that nothing was removed in the house, all the books, papers and stacks of manuscripts were still lying around in every corner of the home. I felt a great sadness well up inside me, as I wondered to myself what would happen to all Grandpa’s writings, no one would ever see them or even know they existed.

Grandma came with a warm cup of tea and a tray of homemade muffins for me.

“Richard, how is the family?”, asked Grandma Doris, “your sister Mary visited me a week ago, she’s working in a publishing house.”

“They’re okay. I haven’t spoken to Mary in a while,” I said

“Yes, I know you both had a falling out, but it’s time to make up. How is David doing now?” asked Grandma, “was he older than you or is he the younger brother?”

“David’s younger than me and he’s working in Canada as a Construction Manager.He’s very successful and loves his job.”

“Are you still working at the local post office?”

“Yes, I’m still working there grandma.”

“You had better find another job son. There is no job security working at the post office nowadays, at the rate at which the government keeps closing them down.”

“Grandma, what do you plan to do with Grandpa’s papers, books and manuscripts?”

“I really don’t know what to do with all his papers and books. Do you have any ideas Richard,” she asked me expectantly.

“I can take them all and store them away in the corner of the study, so that I can look through the manuscripts, when I’m on leave from work.”

“Will you be getting any leave this Easter and Christmas?” asked Grandma

“I’ll take a few days off for my annual leave in August.”

“Richard, you can come and stay here with me for a few days, if you like. I’ll prepare your favorite dishes for you.”

“That’s a great idea, Gran,” I said giving her a hug.

“Is there anything special you’d like me to cook for you during your holidays?”

“Maybe a meatball curry and vegetable rice,” I said just dreaming about the delicious food. Grandma was a great Chef and everyone in the family loved her cooking. We had relatives and friends, from Canada, New Zealand and Australia, who would visit my grandparents at home, just to taste Grandma’s excellent dishes. Grandma was always giving out her recipes to people. But, they would all come back to inform Grandma that the food did not taste the same. My Mother Liz was a great cook as well, and I guess it was all the training in cooking she got from her mother-in-law.

I decided to have a look in the old shed at the back of the house. The shed was quite old. Grandpa had all his tools stacked in one corner of the shed. In the center of the shed, was a huge pile of plastic boxes, in it were all the handwritten and typed notes as well as manuscripts of my Grandfather’s.

I went to the far end of the shed and saw large lots of books. There were so many fiction and non-fiction books including ones on numismatics, birds, philately and astronomy. I started to work on this pile of books, trying to sort them out into subject categories to donate to the local library and Charity shops. Grandma came to see me working at the shed, which was quite dimly lit, with one light bulb.

“Richard, rest a bit, here, have a nice warm cup of tea, with these cookies I baked on Sunday,” said grandma, handing me a plate of delicious looking chocolate cookies.

I started my work in the shed after Grandma went to rest. I was surprised at the number of typewriters, books, old VHS cassettes I found in the back of the shed. There were also a large number of comics and other literature which I found in storage.

A large number of the materials were spoiled in the dampness of the shed. While there were about two large bundles of books which were attacked by rodents. It was shocking to see that so many old articles in scrapbooks were soiled due to the poor damp conditions in the shed.

It was while I was going through the papers and books, that I heard a rustle behind the wooden book racks. I moved behind the book-racks to investigate. Two mice leaped out at me. I was startled though I was prepared for it, lost my balance and fell to the floor, I was lucky to land on more old magazines. The mice scampered away into the darkness of the shed and let me get on with my work of sorting out all the mess. I was feeling very tired and went back home. I returned at the weekend, when I had Saturday off from my work at the post-office.

Grandmother was happy to see me again and served me a hearty lunch. It started to rain and the sound of the rain could be heard hammering on the roof.

“Richard, why don’t you stay and watch something on TV till the rain stops and then you can go to the shed to sort out more of the books,” said Grandma, as she offered me another cup of tea.

“Thanks, Grandma, that’s a good idea. I will...