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Subject: A Cantabrian Operetta Chapter 7 This story is a work of fiction and only contains characters who are entirely fictitious. You’re not in here, and neither is anybody else you know. I wrote it – I should know. The action of this story takes place early in the 21st century. I have not attended any of the august places of learning mentioned in the text, and the details of those places are accurate only geographically. The fact that a crime takes place in one of them is no reflection on the integrity of that institution. I repeat – work of fiction.It is just possible that activities of a sexual nature may take place, and some of that may be cross generational. There is NO pornography. Look elsewhere for that. If you wish to provide feedback I can be contacted at [email protected] and please bear in mind that you don’t pay to read these stories, but it does cost Nifty money to provide them. Please consider donating to Nifty fty/donate.html A Cantabrian Operetta. by Jonah Chapter 7. Madrigal By midday on the following day we were puzzled and perplexed. The inspector had told us, via his sergeant, that they were releasing Terry Wright which, you would have thought, would mean Terry putting in an appearance at the college. At any rate, no such thing occurred. The Professor was of the opinion that, with a killer on the loose, Terry was frightened to show his face anywhere near the college. When we mentioned this to the inspector he was somewhat critical. “If he’s gone AWOL for that reason he isn’t very clever,” he observed. ” If we know where he is, we can try to protect him. If we don’t, we can’t” “He probably doesn’t think much of your record for protecting people.” I said, “given that you had him in custody, and have just chucked him out with a murderer on his tail.” The inspector snorted, but made no further comment, so the matter was dropped. I had a lecture to attend in the afternoon, ( so had the Professor, who was giving the lecture on the demise of the Plantagenet dynasty), so it was not until evening that I had the opportunity to mention this to the Professor. He was concerned but, pointed out that we were powerless to do anything unless and until Terry showed up, dead or alive. That didn’t seem very satisfactory, but I had auditions to do. The hall was lit up on this occasion, and fairly heaving with people. Gina Crawshaw, an arts undergrad who happened to be brilliant with a keyboard, was on the piano, busking the Yeomen overture. Various groups of students stood around and chatted, whilst Dr. escort bayan Harvey sat at a folding table, apparently reading the vocal score as if it were a novel. He glanced up as I came in. “Evening Jonah. You auditioning for anything?” “Not if I can help it,” I said. “I’ve got more than enough to do.” He grinned for a split second. “OK folks, listen up,” he said loudly. “Tenor principals first. I know who I want for Fairfax. Mr. Salisbury, if you can sing the second verse of ‘is life a boon’, the part is yours. The rest of you tenors, there are two other tenor parts and a baritone. For Leonard, the audition piece is the tenor line from ‘Alas I waver.’ People, please feel free to put in the other parts if you know them. Those puttting in for second Yeoman, your audition piece is the Autumn piece from “Tower Warders, and first yeoman will be “As Escort” from the Act 1 finale. John, if you’re ready, I’ll take you first, from “Is life a thorn.” “Is this going to take long Jonah?” It was Tony Chaliss, who stood at my elbow. Belinda Trevarron hung on his arm. “Is there somewhere else you want to be Tony?” I inquired. He shrugged by way of an answer and the two of them drifted off to the back of the hall where they sat on one of the forms that lined the wall and listened to Sally singing his audition piece, which was not particularly taxing. The doctor had obviously chosen the second verse because it included a top A flat that the first verse didn’t. I expected that Tony would audition for Jack Point, but couldn’t see Belinda as a principal. If Lettie Martin didn’t get the part of Elsie, none of us would hear the end of it – ever. I caught up with John Wright, Terry’s younger brother, who was auditioning for the first Yeoman. “Have you heard anything from Terry then John.” “Why would I,” he said impatiently. “I never did before, so why start now?” “He’s your brother John. It’s natural to feel some concern.” “What would he know about what’s natural,” he responded. “He should have thought about that before he started batting for …. sorry Jonah.. I didn’t mean it like that.” “It’s all right John,” I replied. “What were you auditioning for by the way?” He looked at me for a long time without saying anything then said. “You don’t know what it’s like. All the strange looks and people avoiding talking to me just because my brother……” “It wasn’t Terry’s fault John,” I pointed out. “It was Dovey’s fault, just as it’s Dovey’s fault that I don’t have a family or a home any more. ” “Sorry Jonah,” he mumbled, “I didn’t kocaeli escort bayan know.” “Did you audition for the Duke, John?” “Only for the chorus.” “Where did you go afterwards?” “Are you and the Professor working for the police?” “No, the police do what they’re paid to do. Nobody is paying me.” “Well we stayed in here singing until after the police arrived.” “We?” “Well, nearly everybody. Everybody but you and Dovey. I was by the door and I didn’t see anybody else leave.” “OK, thanks John.” “Do you have a show yet?” said a voice at my elbow. The Professor stood there lazily eyeing the proceedings. “We’re getting there,” I replied. “But you’re not going to be singing any arias?” “Certainly not. I’ll help out the first tenors where I can, but I’ll be too busy to do more.” “OK, Sergeant Grant was here, he says the constabulary are concerned that they don’t know where young Wright has got to.” “Serves them right for letting him go then.” “Well, yes and no. He could have stayed in police custody if he’d wanted to. He’s a fellow of Jesus College, Cambridge. I’d have thought that would make him clever enough to knock off a policeman’s helmet if he wanted a night inside.” “Assume that to be untrue,” I said. “Where would you go if you didn’t want anybody to know where you were?” “I’m not answering that,” he replied, “in case it ever happens.” “OK,” I said, “but there are still more things we don’t know. I still think Dovedale was the key to a lot of what has happened. He’s dead, but nobody knows for certain why, and I think we need to.” “Well there’s no longer a police cordon round the North Court,” he replied. It’s only out of use because they still need to sort out the electrics.” “Will Mr. Warboys lend us his pass key?” “Mr. Warboys is still a suspect too,” he replied. “I’ve got a bit of bent wire that will do the trick.” “Best get over there while everybody is busy in here then.” We passed nobody on the way to the North Court, and found the East block locked up. That wasn’t a problem. I lived in the East block too, and had a key to the stairwell door. The corridors were in darkness, but the Professor’s flashlight was man enough for what we needed. The lowest floor is sub-surface, with only small windows to the rooms, the three floors above have large angled picture windows to each room. Dovedale’s rooms were on the lowest of these floors. The Professor carefully manipulated the lock and we were in. It seemed likely that the police would have taken away anything kocaeli escort they found that was interesting, but there was always the chance that they missed something. I started on the drawers of his desk. Each one had been emptied. The Professor watched me slam the drawers shut then, as soon as I stood up, he moved in behind me and slid all the drawers right out of the desk, stacking them on the floor. Then he shone his flashlight into the recess in the desk where they had been. Carefully he reached in and eased out a photograph and a couple of sheets of paper. One was clearly a newspaper cutting, while the other was a handwritten note. I shrugged and moved to the nightstand beside his bed. Again the cupboard was empty, but this time I slid the drawer right out. Nothing. The Professor, in the meantime, was wandering around the room, lifting bits of carpet. In the angle of the large window he struck gold. He rolled back a section of carpet to reveal an A4 reinforced envelope, bearing the legend,”Photographs do not bend”. “I bet they do,” I remarked quietly. “Ssshhh!” he said, quickly shutting off his flashlight. Sure enough we could both clearly hear the sounds of footsteps. Somebody was walking briskly down the corridor. “We could do with knowing who that is,” I whispered. “No way!” he whispered in return. “How would you explain being in here?” I had to concede that, so listened in silence as the footsteps receded and then the mystery man descended the stairs. All was still once more. “We could do with getting out of here,” whispered the Professor. “Have I got time to get my Yeomen score from my room?” I asked. “”Are you on this floor?” he queried. “Yes. Next-door but one, that way.” “Who was in the room in between?” “Burdeep Singh, then Terry Wright had the room right at the end.” “Hmmm! Could be useful” he murmurred. “Yes, OK! We’d better be quick though.” Together we strode down the corridor, with the Professor clutching his prizes. I got out my keys and unlocked my door. The door opened a few inches and struck something. I pushed and it yielded. The Professor shone his flashlight down. The beam of light picked up a stockinged foot. It traversed upwards. Staring up at us from the floor were the sightless eyes of Terry Wright. TO BE CONTINUED If you’ve enjoyed this story you’d probably enjoy other stories by the same author, also on Adult/Youth. “Immigrant”, “Marooned”, “Letter from America”, ” Stranger on a train” and “The Boston Tea Party” are all by this author, as is, “The Pen-Pals” (on Young Friends). You would also probably like “A Neglected Boy” by Jacob Lion. Pictures of some of the characters in this story can be found on Jacob’s bly/jonah-stories.html My thanks go to Jacob for his generosity and hard work in making this available.

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