* * *
As Jake had deduced Roger Tamworth was arrested for whatever the police had in mind. The police listened to the two people who lived in the flat who complained that this stranger had tied them up and threatened to kill them if they could or would not recognize the man in the photograph. From that point the conversation was thwarted with problems and many questions were fired at the two people and Roger Tamworth.
The policeman asked, ‘What photograph?’ There was no photograph.
The two people insisted that there was a photograph.
The policeman said okay, ‘So there was a photo. How were they going to recognize who it was if you were both blindfolded?’
Both people looked at each other – the husband of the two stated that they were blindfolded after the viewing of the photograph. Roger Tamworth denied that he had threatened the couple by shooting them because they knew what he looked like; after all he was a policeman.
* * *
Roger Tamworth sat in a chair rocking backwards and forwards. He was handcuffed and he held a hot steaming cup of tea, sipping it slowly. He felt the pain in his neck and it made him wince every time he moved his head. He was smirking as he was being arrested, telling the police they had made a terrible mistake and if they would look in his pockets they would find his police badge and warrant card. He was asked to empty his pockets and nothing was found to support his story and no identification at all. His warrant card, badge, wallet and car keys were missing.
Roger knew he had to keep his cool and he knew that a police check would be made and he also knew that they wouldn’t find anything for the simple reason that he did not exist. All he had in the world was the paperwork he had been given.
‘Paperwork?’ That’s it, his passport to freedom. It was the envelope with all the relevant information that would prove who he was as far as the police were concerned.
He turned to the constable who was guarding him.
‘Can you get the Police Inspector, I need to speak to him urgently?’
The constable moved to the door and knocked twice on it and whispered his message and shortly a man appeared who sat down opposite Roger and said, ’Looks like you’re in the clear, sorry about the inconvenience. I have just been reading the document we found in your shoe. Someone will take you wherever you want to go.
Roger left the police station smiling, declining the lift offered. ‘What fools the police are!’ Roger turned the corner and was shot through the head. He never felt a thing. A car stopped by his body and a passenger got out and a gloved hand pinned a note to his suit. It read, “The penalty for failure.”
* * *
Jake awoke from his dream, he had dreamt he was being tended to by a vision of loveliness. His arm ached and he looked to see that it had been nicely bandaged up and slowly looking up he saw what he thought was only in his dreams. This beautiful vision came to be real and spoke to him, ‘How are you feeling?’
‘Wonderful!’ said, Jake.
He sat up and took in his surroundings. The double bed had a luxurious feel about it with pink sheets complete with duvet of a similar colour. The room was tastefully decorated with gold roses on an off-white background. The heavy curtains matched the décor.
‘The police came and wanted to search my flat, but I told them that I had a sick aunt who was staying with me who was asleep in bed.’
‘What happened?’ said, Jake.
‘They came in and opened the door and saw you and then went on their way.’
‘They didn’t recognize me then?’
‘No! I think it was the grey wig I placed round your head and the make-up that I applied that helped to make you look like an old person. I belong to a amateur society and we put on shows, anyway it did the trick.’
‘Why did you protect me, I could have been a murderer?’
‘Your face tells me you are not and besides you are wounded and you fainted on my new rug. It’s going to be a devil of a job to remove the blood stains. I had just rolled up the rug and placed it in a cupboard when the police called, it was a close shave.’
One of the policemen kept staring at my floor and said ‘Where is the rug that used to be on top of the carpet?’
‘At the dry cleaners, I took it in yesterday.’
‘Did you?’ said, Jake.
‘Luckily I took a rug in to be cleaned, but not the one you collapsed on and I was able to show them a receipt.’
‘What I want to know how did he know there was a rug?’
‘The legs of a table leave an indentation, but after awhile they disappear and if you had just taken up the rug, he could possibly see the markings on the carpet.’
‘Rather clever of him.’
‘Not really,’ said, Jake. ‘It’s part of their job to be observant.’
‘Are you a policeman?’
‘Sort of.’ said Jake.
Jake sat up and leaned back against the pillow. He was about to ask her to get his jacket when he realized that he didn’t know the name of the angel that had saved him. He decided to tell her his story.
My best friend Roger Tamworth and I went to the same college, we both passed our exams and gained our degrees in Sociology. There wasn’t much in the market for Social Workers at that time and so we lazed around for some time until one day Roger, who had been out came rushing in brandishing a newspaper. We were both hoping there would be jobs on offer, even a washing up job, but those days had long gone since the advent of Commercial Dishwashers. Roger pointed out an advert which read: LOOKING FOR EXCITEMENT – WE CAN OFFER YOU THIS OPPORTUNITY. Please apply to Box 22 with your CV.
We both looked at the advert to see if there was any other information regarding this exciting opportunity, but there was none, so we both applied as there was nothing else on offer.
Eventually we both had a reply and were given instructions on how to reach their office. We had to meet someone at London Bridge Railway Station. She was a curvy blonde. We boarded a train and after changing at Lewisham Junction we headed off into unknown territory. Before alighting from the train, which appeared to be practically empty we were blindfolded and guided out of the station. No one appeared to ask for any tickets. For the rest of the journey we were taken by car. It took an hour and at last we had reached our destination. The blindfolds were removed and we were rushed into a room and told to sit. It seemed an eternity and Roger was getting fidgety. He said
‘Well I don’t know about you, but this is about as exciting as picking your nose at a seance.’
‘I was just about to answer when a door opened and in walked another curvy blonde. At this point Roger rubbed his hands and said, ‘Is this a sex farm?’
The stony look that could have killed a dozen men assured Roger that was not on anyone’s agenda.
‘Follow me!’
I hadn’t noticed when entering the room the number of doors that the room had, whether it was significant I did not have the chance of finding out as we were ushered through one of those doors when the blonde opened it for us to go through.