A Breadcrumb Trail of Clues

I've never liked tea. When I first sipped it, I found the drink to be bitter and scorching. My opinion had never really changed, to be honest but now I hate the drink even more. As readers of my exploits will know, I work for the  Pavilion Paper in Glasgow. It was last week that a kettle in the archive room- intended to be used in the creation of a cup of tea- malfunctioned and set fire to this lower floor. The blaze climbed further and further up the building until the inferno had completely engulfed our base of operations, Pavilion HQ. Luckily, myself and assistant, Robin Greenhouse, had been leaving the building as the alarm went off. We were just placing our feet on the paving stones as the sirens wailed and the rest of the company burst out. We stood on the street as the buildings blaze was put out. The current issue was destroyed and hardly anything was recoverable. Luckily, the contents of my computer had been uploaded to some sort of online system thing so nothing was lost, except my computer. The archive room was completely lost, but our editor seemed to have backups of everything apart from the current issue. Most editors would close the newspaper for a while but not Lawrence Brookes! Oh no! He told us we had one month and five hundred pounds to set up a base and write a new article. We spent a day having some time off and then I invited Robin around to my flat. The flat was the sixth floor of an old building in the middle of our glorious city. it was the entire attic so there was sawdust all over the place with cobwebs hanging from the sky. The window had a seat built into the frame so you could lie down looking out of the window, which was round and translucent, occasionally letting in shafts of blue light. There was an engraved desk with a leather rectangle on where my typewriter sat and a trail of fairy lights illuminated the atmosphere. There was a spiral staircase in the corner where Robins ginger hair was slowly creeping up. She walked up to meet me and threw her coat onto the hat stand. She had a brief case in  her hand and she looked round. The walls were lined with bookcases and there was a bar and kitchen area at the end of the attic. "Welcome to my humble abode!" I spoke, tapping away at my typewriter.
"It's not exactly what I was expecting."
"No but you can hardly talk, living in a castle!"
"Point taken."
"Now, what on Earth is in that brief case?"
"I've been using our list of contacts to find some interesting cases."
"What cases?"
"Our man in the estate has said that a series of bikes have been stolen."
"Not exactly brilliant?"
"Ok. I have some notes on a series of break ins."
"To where?"
"A bakery."
"Ok. Anything else?"
"There was a little thing from Lodsbury."
"I love when I can work with Lodders! Here, tell me what it is now!"
"Just a little case about a break in."
"Oh."
"That couldn't possibly have happened."
"Well that's good."
"And didn't."
"What? Why are we investigating it then?"
"Because a series of alarms were set off inside the vault of a bank when no one could possibly have got in and nothing was stolen."

          

Apology from the Author

As you might know, I've been away for several weeks. Although it has stopped me from doing this blog it has given me chance to renew some ideas so starting from tomorrow- Wednesday at a push- a brand new Rathbone Investigates story will be available on this blog. I'm sorry for those curious of Ark, Liz and Wills latest adventure and I dare say we shall return to the world of Gravity Chasers some point in the future. As for now though, their story is closed. Thank you for your patience and I hope you continue to enjoy the  stories, even if they aren't exactly as originally promised. If you want, you can read a brand new story over on my new blog, 'Timelordcreations.blogspot.co.uk' but as I've said, Rathbone and Greenhouse will return in 'A Breadcrumb Trail of Clues'

Gravity Chasers 4: The Event Horizon

Ark walked into the Chimneair Observatory and sat down at the table. Will and Liz came to sit at his sides and Quintus- with Squawker on his shoulder- stood behind them. Professor Jacob Worminhulk, Balthazar, his son, and their assistant Lyra sat at the other end.
"You said you were a time traveller, Professor Worminhulk?" Inquired Ark.
"No. I just said I was a time travel extrodinares."
"Is that not a time traveller?"
"No. We've been working on time travel for a very long time but we haven't gone so far as to travel in time ourselves."
"So how do you know you're extrodinares?"
"We've been sending objects back in time. For example, there is a special drink that only lasts an hour and can only be created at midday. So we created the drink at midday and sent it back in time for me to drink at eleven o clock."
"Right. Could you do a demonstration for us?"
"Of course! What would you have us send back in time?"
Ark turned to Will and Liz and they spoke briefly. Will then walked to the back of the observatory and brought a key back. It was an exact replica of the one they found in the beginning which allowed them into the observatory in the first place. "This please."
"Any particular date?"
"Yes." Shouted Liz. "Twenty past Three on the Thirteenth of October 1896."
"Why that date?" Asked Will.
"It was when we found the key to the observatory originally. It just appeared on the table remember."
"Ok."
"If I could just point out," spoke Quintus, "but you'll be needing coordinates."
"What is that?" Asked the professor.
"I'm Quintus thank you. I am an automaton created by Arks father. I can talk using the vinyl   discs I store in this bag."
"What amazing technology. Carry on Quintus."
"The coordinates you need are the following: 48 degrees 51' 37.22" N, 2 degrees 20' 15.35" E."
"Thank you." Said Balthazar. He and Lyra had been setting out some equipment which mainly consisted of a platform, with a metal ring above and a small screen with some keyboards.
Balthazar typed the information in and put the keys on the platform. He clicked a button and it started to surround the keys with a blue light. The light switched off and the keys disappeared. They were no longer in this current time.
"They should now be in the location you have decided on."
"Wow." Said Will.
"Now can we get to business?" Asked the professor.
"Business?"
"Yes. I have an offer for you."
  

Scarlett (part 4)

I started to dress the floor with cloth as Little John found a large circle of wood which he put on top of the table. He pushed a nail through the wooden circle's hole. It broke through and suspended the table top on the barrel. My uncle was out, gathering food, and it was just me and Little John in our new lodgings. I could feel a banging on our floor, it would seem some people were fighting beneath.  After I finished laying the cloth, I relit some of the candles which had blown out. Then I opened a chest and put my weapons into it. I was just about to sit down on one of the bar stools when Little John threw a cauldron at me. "Go fill this with water."
I took it and headed down to the Fountain Abbey, so called because it was a fountain where religious sermons took place. It was the best place to get clean water for free in the whole of the Sherwood estate.
I dropped my cauldron in, pulled it out and walked back to the attics. Walking up the rickety metal stair case to the side, carefully making sure not to allow the water to splosh over the sides, I looked out at the Nottingham bank. I was surprised when I saw a man in a raggedy cloth standing to the side of the building, accepting a file from a woman who was there with him. The man jumped down as another gentlemen came to join the woman. How strange!
I carried on up to the top and spoke to Little John as he put the cauldron over a fire place. I was just about to tell him what I had seen when Robin ran in.
"Hey Robin you'll never believe what I  just sa-" I noticed the file in his hand and the raggedy cloth he wore. "Oh."
"I've got some food. Make me a soup will you Little John, as I have a guest coming." He handed him some food.
"Who's the guest?"
"The lady who gave me this file. She is the head maid in Nottingham bank."
"I'd like to meet her." He replied.
"Well say hello!" Robin gestured to the door where a women wearing a typical maids outfit was waiting.
"Say hello to Miss  Marion!"

Scarlett will return.
"Funny you should sk.

Scarlett (part 3)

I, my uncle Robin and our new friend Little John, walked across the plank bridge and into the Sherwood estate. The smell wasn't as bad as in the squats but it was hard to bear. The windows of the lodgings were coated in grime and flies buzzed against them.
It was for two dripping wet middle aged blokes, especially one of Little Johns stature, to walk through such a place. We acquired many a dodgy look, which only intensified when we stated to climb up the rickety iron stair case to the attics. The door broke open and we stepped into a triangular room with bits of material hanging from the roof. There wasn't anything in the way of furnishings but I'm sure we could find something. There were little candles plopped around the room so which we lit so we could see things clearer. There was a barrel and a couple of stools so we pulled them over and used the barrel as table.
"Alright." Stated my uncle. "Welcome to the first official meeting of my,"
"We need a name." I interrupted.
"Yes we do."
"I knew a man called Albert Merry." Little John muttered.
"So?" I asked.
"He always wanted to set up a group like this to take down the bank."
"Well it's decided." Robin announced. "Welcome to the first meeting of the Merry men."

   

Scarlett (part 2)

The tall figure stood at the end of the bridge, his shadow making it hard for us to see if there was anyone behind him. He had a scraggily beard and was about six foot tall, with the broadest shoulders I have ever seen.
My uncle Robin lowered his hood and swirled the staff in his hand, "I think I shall take the not today option."
"That wasn't a choice."
"Do you want me to enforce my option?"
"Oh yes please."
"Will, step back."
I hurried back across the bridge to wear I had been several minutes before. Robin bowed and sliced his staff into the tall mans legs. The man growled and lifted his truncheon above his head allowing Robin to send his fist into the mans stomach. As the tall man lurched backwards, he brought his truncheon down.
Robin jumped backward and threw his cape over the man. He sent several quick shots into the mans chest and sent a kick into the mans thigh.
Just as he planted one more kick into the tall figure, he was pulled over into the oxbow lake. The tall figure followed and attempted to drown Robin!
I pulled my catapult out and sent some stones at the figure. He turned away from my uncle and swam over to me. This was just the opportunity my uncle needed. He jumped out of the water and pulled some twine from the bridge, wrapping it around the mans neck.
He wacked his foot into the back of the mans knee causing him to kneel and shouted, "Who are you?"
"They call me John Little."
"Well Little John,, I'm Robin of the Loxley Estate. Hang on, I can't call myself that now."
"That's a good point." I said.
"I could do with a name."
"How about Robin Hat?"
"No"
"Robin Cloak?"
"No."
"Robin Hood?"
"Sounds a bit old fashioned but we'll stick with it for now. Well Little John, I'm Robin Hood and I'm looking for somewhere to live."
"Well you won't get a room in the Sherwood Estate, they've all been taken."
"I'm planning to live in the attics."
"They say they're haunted."
"I'm sorry."
"The attics are haunted by the ghosts of the poor who have been trapped in the brickwork for all eternity by the demons and devils of the night."
"I have spent too much time watching the travesty of war to believe in the life of demons and devils. However we shall be using the rumours of ghosts to keep people out."
"Why would we want to be keeping people out?"
"Because of our plans."
"What plans?"
"My plans to break the bank!" 

Scarlett

They say history repeats itself. Most of the time this metaphorical.
Not today.

In the year of our lord 1856, as our great country revelled from the War in Crimea, I sat looking at the side of a great Oxbow lake. The lake had many fish in it and I was sat fishing when I saw the man coming towards me.  He was dressed in a ragged cloth and was mainly supported by an old wooden stick that waited in his hand. He was shivering which was presumably a sign that he had just strolled through the paupers streets. These places were just a horrible excuse to bear witness to the worst parts of our great city. I was lucky to have rich parents who owned a house and didn't have to live in a squat. The man approached me and I felt my fingers tightening around the hilt of my knife. The man knocked back his hood to reveal the face of a young man, aged by war.
He had blue eyes and his skin was tanned with cuts and bruises distracting the eye.
I recognized the face beneath the scars and cried the name, "Uncle Robin!"
The face smiled and replied, "I observe you are still wearing you're trademark crimson clothing, William Scarlett."
I grinned at his use of my nickname, "Of course. I was under the impression you were in Crimea."
"I was. The wars ending and I received damage to my arm. It only healed a few days ago!"
"It's great to see you."
"You too. My estate appears to have been repossessed."
"Yes. The stand in owner of Nottingham bank has been demanding money from everyone. If you don't pay up they steal all your possessions. That's why I'm here; raising money to pay the bank off."
"I new the actual owner shouldn't have had come to war with us."
"Where are you going to live then?"
"On the other side of the bridge that goes over this Oxbow Lake is the Sherwood Estate." The Sherwood estate was a large housing place designed to house the homeless for a very little fee.
"I know about there."
"Yes. I've heard rumours that the attic of the buildings are perfect living space. I'm going to attempt to get in and set up a base there."
"Can I come?"
"Of course Will."
"Great."
We made our way over the bridge- a glorified collection of planks held together by twine. About half way across it when a hooded figure met us in the middle. Whilst batting a truncheon over his left hand he boomed, "Too boys like you really look like you might have some money. So how are you going to hand it over. The easy way or the hard way?" 

Memory Lane (part 4)

"I think I know what you coming onto." Robin stated.
"Do you?"
"Yes."
"Well I'll get to the end and then you can tell me how it was done. Remember the tips I've given you for the big reveal."
"Ok."
"So, I took Amelia outside and told her my idea. She pulled me into a cab and took us straight to the Pavilion HQ. I ran into the editors office and told him my conclusion. After checking my facts, he sent me and Amelia to the café to explain the case to the police men."
"I gathered all the relevant people and started. Robin if you care to take over."
"Sure. So Lisa Williams was going to ban tabloid reporters from lying, so they were doing all these derogatory things to her such as,"
"Throwing eggs at her car and in this case putting a candle on her table so that it seems she is on a date."
"Correct. Now, the candle wasn't very derogatory and to be truthful, why would they pay the money? So why don't we have a think. Why did they donate candle?"
"I don't know?"
"That was rhetorical."
"No such thing as a rhetorical question when you're doing the big reveal."
"OK."
"Carry on."
"So the candle was designed so that it would flare and release a cyanide based poison that would kill someone."
"Right. What about the funny food?"
"Rubbish chef."
"No."
"What?"
"The food wasn't a case of the bad chef. The food was a case of the antidote for the poison."
"What?"
"What was the thing that she put a tax on?"
"Cheese."
"And do you know what the best dish of the Lime Sweet Restaurant was?"
"No."
"It was meal a with a lot of cheese in."
"So?"
"Do you know who created the dish?"
"No."
"The waiter who put the candle on the table."
"So?"
"So the waiter found the poison capsule- it was later discovered it wasn't cyanide- and put antidote in everyone else's food. And he turned the power off when the poison activated so no one would work out the crime. That is when you eliminated the impossible, realised that whatever remains- no matter how improbable- has to be the truth."
"But why did he not turn it into the police?"
"Because he only got the job because he invented the dish. He would have been fired because cheese was getting to expensive to buy."
"Ah!"
"Exactly. And that was how I became the great investigative journalist known as Gabriel Rathbone!"
"And his more interesting assistant, Robin Greenhouse!"
"This was my back story not yours."
"Alright."