Welcome to the Wakefield Doctrine (the theory of clarks, scotts and rogers)
This is the Six Sentence Story bloghop.
Hosted by Denise
Crashed by ceayr (ok, with some egging on by management, but only along the lines of ‘You’ve been an appreciative audience. You have a certain proclivity for this flash fiction, we encourage you to practice your art.’) Go take a gander over at his place. He be doin a walk-on.
For our part, a bit of an aside: While we’re determined to move the plot along in ‘the Case of the Missing Fig Leaf’, whenever we invite another Sixarian to do a ‘walk-on’ we inevitably succumb to the temptation to ‘riff off’ our guest. Although ce yr promised not to get too close to the storyline of either of our serials, the About page at his blog says he’s from Scotland. Well, one thing naturally lead to another and, so, this, the latest installment in the Ian Devereaux serial.
Cliff Note for our Six. One of our favorite characters, Anya Claireaux, is based in Chicago where she runs the Omni Corporation. (Her official title is Executive Administrative Assistant. But, then, you know how she can be about exerting power.) She does a voice-only cameo.
Previously, in the Case of the Missing Fig Leaf…
The search for clues, a trail or anything that might reveal the identity of those who orchestrated the death of Dr. Leanne Thunberg’s ex-husband was arduous; understanding their rationale, near-hopeless. Ian Devereaux only recently embraced the conviction that the future was, at best a dead-end and, at worst, a false hope.
He decided to call Germany. The woman in Chicago decided on Edinburg.
Prompt word:
HANDLE
“Hey, why don’tcha get the Insulting Detective here to play us a tune,” the bartender at the All Bar One GeorgeSt watched the small crowd spread itself out according to desire and ambition; couples gravitated to the window booths, sharing their excitement with random pedestrians, solo patrons towards the bar, mostly silent, awaiting good fortune.
Joe Bell V, seated at the pre-War Steck and Welmar baby grand, looked up at the mostly affectionate nickname and accidentally caught sight of his reflection in the mirror behind the bar, that of an old ghost who’d finally let go of rattling chains and deathly howls, reduced to a furrowed brow and a menacing stare.
He smiled at the nickname, an off-hand tribute to his great-great-great grandfather, who despite not sharing the fame of a certain fictional detective, managed to acquire a fortune that would endure into the 21st century; the Joe Bell at the piano was required, when reaching his majority, to learn an instrument and establish a career as a physician or detective; half a medical degree from the Edinburgh Medical School made the latter unavoidable.
“I’d pay the devil whatever he’d ask, if only I’d get this damnadh Handel waltz down,” the dim lights in the corner of the All Bar One made reading difficult, only ‘Waltz in C Sharp Minor’ was visible; Joe supplemented his income by entertaining the patrons of several New Town establishments with light pop and old standards; unfortunately he maintained an unhealthy obsession with the classical repertoire.
The cell phone next to his Scotch and cigarettes began to glow and displayed a number from the area code ‘312’, which was unexpected, but not nearly as surprising as the sound of a woman’s voice from the as-yet unanswered phone,”You got yourself a deal, Jo… expect a visit tomorrow from Sven Stuveysant, the finest remedial piano teacher on the Continent.”
Not bothering to touch the phone, Joe stopped playing and heard the voice, at once lethal and playful, continue, “As to payment, your family history has something of value to me, I’ll be calling again very soon; and Joe, that’s Chopin, not Handel, leannan.”
About clarkscottroger
Poor Joe Bell V, lol. Having the good fortune of being familiar with one Anya Clarieaux, I feel sorry for him already!
lol yeah, he thinks he still has a choice
I like how you described ghosts aging: “who’d finally let go of rattling chains and deathly howls, reduced to a furrowed brow and a menacing stare”. Being willing to pay the devil whatever he wants for favors may get one into enough trouble to add more chapters to the tale.
Hoping. ‘course this was, as I mentioned in the intro, one of those flights of fancy prompted by the walk-on. Sometimes (for me) there’s just the fun of creating a scene with interesting characters.
“I’d pay the devil whatever he’d ask, struck an immediate chord. It is what I say to myself whenever I’m angry about it.
Funny you should say that… many of us do fancy that a deal could be struck with the devil. Equally, many of us blanch at the thought of the price He might demand. I wonder, at times like this, that we’re not conditioned to believe that the devil, being a ‘bad guy’, would insist we give up only the good things in our lives as payment for his favor.
Suppose we were only required to give up the bad (self-doubt, fear, irresolution) things in our life in order to have an outside agency transform us?
You are so good at this
Thanks, man
Yes deals with the Devil always seem more profitable than prayers – thank you.
at least he tends to get back to you quicker
lol
I adore your musical adornments that follow your prose. I’m enjoying it as I comment and feel enchanted as I’m savoring the scene and characters that came before it.
Wonderful, Clark!!
especially as the music was integral to the post’s punchline!
thanks, Susan
You really can’t beat a bit of Chopin! The Six was pretty damn good too. Och, to be in Edinburgh on a dark evening sipping a wee dram… you’ve got me all nostalgic now.
highest of compliments, to be sure
May he recover from his encounter, and not lose too much.
agree
Seeing one’s reflection and realizing how one has aged over the years can be a sobering awakening.
The goal of hoping to finally perfect one’s ability to play a classical repertoire requires a lot of sacrifice, practice and talent. Hopefully he won’t follow through and “pay the devil” and do whatever he asks, but then again, perhaps that wouldn’t allow you to continue with this SSS. HaHa
interesting concept: to ‘perfect’ one’s ‘ability’ something in me senses a trap (laid by culture, parents, self)
music does have it’s fair share of deals with the devil in return for proficiency
“As to payment, your family history has something of value to me, I’ll be calling again very soon; and Joe, that’s Chopin, not Handel, leannan.” I like how she finishes on intrigue but also a correction for him.
Is the name ‘Stuveysant’ chosen after the cigarette brand, as it appears in the same sentence as the mention of cigarettes?
I remember seeing an All Bar One in Birmingham UK the last time I was over there.
Great photo of Edinburgh (with an ‘h’ as you spotted at the second attempt!) which, in Glasgow, is pronounced Embru.
Do you know that the New Town is around 250 years old, and the castle, in the Old Town, predates it by at least 600 years.
I am amused that your barman has an American accent!
I’m walking off now.