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Post by Tug on Jan 19, 2019 22:47:23 GMT -5
"I... I... This is bugging me more than it should... Gunnarson, I think I need to check up on my medical records, so I'll drop you back off at your place and while you find out more about Doux, I'll go meet with my physician..." responded Hartley as he pulled in front of Gunnarson's apartment, the Swede thanked his compatriot for the ride and the duo split up...
.....
"Yep, you're suffering from a concussion..."
Hartley sat upon the patient bench as Dr. Morgan reported his findings...
"What? How? The army doctors never told me about this..." lamented Hartley
"It's hard to spot since it's a mild one so they probably weren't looking for it due to you being shot in the leg and all. Though they did note the strange way you landed where you banged your head against the helmet and the ground, which definitely would cause one. It seems they didn't catch it, and it's taken a while to degrade to this stage, so I doubt your memory isn't the only thing to go to the wayside..." answered Morgan
"So... What should I do?" questioned Hartley
Morgan replied, "I suggest to rest and relax your mind, the less you do to exert it, the more likely it you can prevent further damage to it. It would be dangerous for you if you were to receive another such injury as this, especially since it took so long for the diagnosis of your first one..."
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Post by frankthetriviaman on Jan 20, 2019 0:07:53 GMT -5
"Doctor, now I'm nervous... how bad could the damage be?" Hartley asked, now scared at the prospect of having a concussion that went undiagnosed all these years.
"Ok, calm down. I'm going to ask you some questions and we'll see how bad the damage is" Dr. Morgan assured as he randomly picked through some notes in Hartley's file.
"What is your full name?" Dr. Morgan began.
"James Stephenson Hartley" Hartley answered with little effort.
"Good. Where and when were you born?"
"I was born in... Sussex... August, 1918" Hartley said, needing to think a bit, but not with much effort.
"So far so good. And your family?"
"My father was George Hartley, and my mother was Samantha Hartley. I've only got one brother, Roger"
"Promising. Now let's see what else you remember" Dr. Morgan continued. The questioning must have gone on for at least half an hour, and soon Dr. Morgan had figured out much of what he needed to know.
"Well, you are coherent, and you have no hallucinations nor are you seeing things. But you definitely have random gaps in your memory" he concluded.
"What? How can I have gaps in my memory? Shouldn't I just forget... well, everything past a certain point?" Hartley asked.
"The human brain is a complex organ we are still trying to understand Mr. Hartley... I wish I had an answer, but it's not as simple as you think it is. For every memory you remember, you are bound to forget a dozen or so. Heck, I would not be surprised if you forgot about people you were once very close to" Dr. Morgan explained.
"That's ridiculous, how does one simply forget about a close friend? But I do trust your judgement, Doctor. I guess I'll be going now" he said, thanking the doctor and leaving.
......
Gunnarson's apartment was closer to the Doctor's office than the Hotel he was staying at in London for the time being, so Hartley decided that he should fill in Gunnarson on what had happened. "I need him to understand my situation... without Cricket in my life right now I need to know that at least someone has my back in this" he reasoned.
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Post by Biblically Accurate Angel on Feb 3, 2019 22:28:32 GMT -5
As Hartley walked along, he decided to take a shortcut through an old alleyway which he knew would get him to Gunnarson's apartment faster. He knew that the London Underground was going wild lately, but, he reasoned, what harm could it really do? It was just a short little walk through and if he used his legs he could be in and out in a jiffy.
Hartley saw the stench of decay all through it. Garbage was piled up on the streets, the stairs had smears of blood left on them from old gang fights, and graffiti left over from now-deceased youngsters marred what could have once been something of value. A mangy, starving dog ran past, searching desperately for its source of survival. Hartley shivered.
"So much trash," said a voice. "Would be nice just to... get rid of it."
Hartley wheeled around like a cat with its hair straight up. A darkened figure swung out from a passageway and walked up towards him. Hartley was frozen in fear, but The Man just offered him a cigarette.
"Don't smoke? I remember a time when you did, Hartley, old friend."
Hartley's mind shot back over previous events. "You're... you're that Man!" He'd broken into Gunnarson's apartment once, screaming that he would kill Hartley, only to have Gunnarson unload his service revolver right into his chest.
"Judge, Jury, and Executioner at your service," The Man said triumphantly, taking a bow.
"No way," said Hartley. "You're the one the papers have been talking about?"
"One and the same, yes."
Hartley fought to remain calm. He knew he was easy prey. Fool he'd been, running through the alleys now. God! If this was really it, then...
The Man seemed to sense Hartley's thoughts and chuckled. "Not so high and mighty now, are you? You seemed to possess a bit more bravado over the phone."
Hartley remembered. He'd been called up by this Man not quite so long ago, and had told him bluntly, "I'm not scared of you! You came at me one time and haven't bothered me since. There's no reason to be afraid of a shadow I don't even know; you're but a thing of the past to me now!" He'd received only laughter on the other side of the receiver.
The Man was right, thought Hartley. Some fears are much greater in person than when they're far away.
"But relax," said The Man cheerfully. "If you think I'm really gonna kill you right now then you really don't know me. I've learned a thing or two since the last time. Besides, ol' Adolf really needs you right now, and I'd hate to make him mad. Furthermore, your death doesn't really suit me right now. No, I won't be coming for you until I've finished the work that I've started, and by the looks of things, that's gonna be a little while. Actually I really just came here to say... hi!"
Poor Hartley was thrown aback as The Man extended his arm. Dazed and confused, he grasped it and the two shook. "It's been nice dealing with you," said The Man. "Don't worry, we'll meet up again, someday, when the time is right. Until then... ta-ta for now!"
And just like that, he was gone.
......
"Good lord, Hartley, you look like you've seen a ghost!" ejaculated Gunnarson as he opened the door on his friend.
"Yeah, that's about the size of it...."
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Post by frankthetriviaman on Feb 3, 2019 23:47:16 GMT -5
"... I ran into that J.J.E. fellow on my way here. Really thought he would be dead in a ditch somewhere after my last book though" Hartley muttered as he stepped into Gunnarson's apartment.
"Hartley no one calls him that anymore" Gunnarson reminded him. "What was it The Times said? CHB? HCB? Had something to do with no one seeing him as a Robin Hood anymore" Gunnarson tried recalling.
"Oh, it was C.B.H. Gunnarson... Cold-Blooded Hypocrite" Hartley reminded him. "Though to be fair I still hear some people call him J.J.E. from time to time, but yes, C.B.H. comes up more often" he said in agreement.
"I've even heard some call him S.O.B." Gunnarson informed.
"Huh?" Hartley asked; this took him by surprise since Gunnarson wasn't one to swear.
"Yes... Shadow Of Blade. Frankly I find all this monikers to be rather fitting, and I see why..." Gunnarson began, but Hartley held his hand up.
"I mean, don't get me wrong... I am not the least bit scared or intimidated by him; he's just a nutcase to me, what got to me was the shock that he was alive more than anything else, and... Gunnarson, that is not important right now!" he began. "Now, this is why I came over" and he proceeded to explain what he had learned at the doctor's office.
"... and apparently the concussion, while mild, was not diagnosed at all this whole time. And now apparently there are patches of memory I simply do not have" Hartley explained.
"I'm sure it is only natural Hartley; we all forget a thousand things for every memory we have" Gunnarson assured. "But still... is there a family history of memory issues with you?" Gunnarson asked.
"That's hard to say... as unbelievable as it sounds both of my parents and all of my grandparents were single children, so I don't have any relatives in the way of aunts, uncles or cousins" he explained.
"Does that mean..." Gunnarson began.
"Yes, without Philippa in my life right now I'm afraid my only family is Roger and his family... and none of them have memory issues" Hartley recalled. "What about you, Gunnarson? Any progress on the case?" Hartley asked.
"As a matter of fact, yes. Let me show you a few things" Gunnarson began as Hartley listened in.
......
In another part of London, a woman was cooking dinner for herself and her young daughter. Things had been rough since the war, but she was one who would not back down easily, and managed to persevere. She had of course been heartbroken when she got that dreadful letter all those years ago about him being killed in action... she swore that she would never "betray him" after that, seeing their daughter as a "final gift to her" of sorts.
"Is it almost ready?" the girl called out from the living room as she listened to the radio.
"Just a little longer, Ellen" the woman replied as she took it off the stove to put the finishing touches. Just as she was going over to the spice rack though, he heard a knocking at the door. "He's early... I hope those leads were accurate" she said hopefully. She went over to the door and asked who it was.
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Post by Tug on Mar 2, 2019 21:04:34 GMT -5
"Hello Madam, It's the Private Eye you hired, Marcus Grant, I'm back to report my findings..." said a man in a trench coat standing in the woman's doorway
"Ah, yes, come in please..." replied the woman as she opened the door and let the man, Mr. Grant, in...
took a seat at the table while the woman shooed away the daughter, saying 'dinner would be ready soon but the adults were talking and needed privacy' to Ellen's chagrin but the girl conceded and went upstairs. The woman soon sat down at the table and looked at her hired investigator, wondering what Mr. Grant had brought her...
"Well Ms. Frith, I took a look down at the public records office and the man in the newspaper, coincides with the author of these books, which detail these events in detail..." spoke Mr. Grant as he revealed a paper with a headline discussing the suicide of the Gunnarson Impostor, as well as three books titled, 'Murder of a Doctor', 'Emerald Ideals', and 'The Tables Turn', "Also, the author, not only shares a name with the deceased, but also his military record..."
"So my James is still alive?" asked an astonished Frith
"Well... Abigail, there's no easy way to say this... But in one of his books... And on the public record... Here, showing you will be easier..." responded Grant as he pulled out a copy of a marriage certificate and a photo that was in a local newspaper of a happily married couple...
On that certificate were, the names James and Phillipa Hartley...
.....
So those are you're current leads Gunnarson?" asked Hartley
"I'm afraid so Hartley, even with them, I still can place where our 'phantom thief will strike next..." answered Gunnarson as he placed his head on his hand in defeat...
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Post by frankthetriviaman on Mar 2, 2019 22:07:51 GMT -5
Both sat in silence for a few minutes, before Gunnarson finally thought of something. "Wait... something has been bothering me, especially now" Gunnarson said in realization.
"What do you mean?" Hartley asked.
"Well... this is my first case in a long time, and, well, of all the people who would request my services... something isn't adding up Hartley" Gunnarson thought.
"What kind of thing?" Hartley said in an even more confused tone.
"Hang on... and be prepared to take notes if you need to" Gunnarson said as he pulled out a pad and paper from a desk and gave it to Hartley. Then he made a phone call.
"Hello? Yes, Lord Buford, please. It's Adolf Gunnarson, I was hired by him for a service" he began. Several minutes later, the Lord was on the line.
"Ah, Gunnarson, glad to hear from you again. What can I do for you?" he began.
"Well sir, I've just been thinking and... well, do you remember the call you had to make to hire me?" Gunnarson asked.
"Yes; I was surprised I had to call you at a restaurant, but beggers can't be choosers" he quipped.
"Well that's the thing. I've been a chef for a good while now, and haven't done much detective work as of late. Why... why do you still have faith in me, of all people?" Gunnarson asked, realizing that this was the first person to trust him with a case in a long time.
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Post by Biblically Accurate Angel on Mar 2, 2019 23:21:04 GMT -5
“Listen,” said Lord Buford, “I don’t trust the police here. Either they’re out stealing from their precincts or they’re killing unarmed civilians. It’s despicable. Those bastards are just part of a governmental scheme to control us and I’m not gonna have any part in it.”
“Huh?” said Gunnarson. “Uh, well...”
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Post by frankthetriviaman on Mar 2, 2019 23:41:31 GMT -5
"... I'm sorry you feel that way, but many policemen I know are decent people if that is any consolation" Gunnarson assured.
"Perhaps, but that isn't the purpose of your call, is it?" Buford asked.
"No, it is not. I do need to ask you some questions because I seem to be in a bit of a troubled spot though" Gunnarson explained.
"Oh, I see. Well, what can I help you with?" Buford asked.
"Well, I was wondering if you could tell me, if since the robbery anything strange has happened since? Like, unusual activity, as if the culprit was looking to strike again?" Gunnarson asked.
"What kind of question is that?" Buford asked, confused.
"Considering how quickly and quietly he struck, it is entirely likely he could be confident enough to consider your home an easy target and strike again" Gunnarson explained.
"Oh, I see. Give me a moment to think" Buford said as he went quiet for a bit.
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Post by Tug on Mar 3, 2019 22:34:04 GMT -5
"Now that I think about it, that crucifix was quoted in the expose, as, and I quote, 'the pride of my collection', so I think he might be targeting the pride and joys of various rich folk..." responded Buford
"Alright, I think I have what I needed from you, thank you your Lordship." replied Gunarson
"Anytime Gunnarson, I hope you can find my missing artifact, I'm rooting for you." added Buford
"Thank you, goodbye." answered Gunnarson as he hung up the phone
"So, was the call useful Guunarson?" asked Hartley
"Definitely, follow me Hartley, I have a lead!"
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Post by frankthetriviaman on Mar 3, 2019 23:04:15 GMT -5
The two proceeded to head to the location in question... Tipperman estate, home to a man who collected artifacts similar in nature to Buford's.
"You sure about this Gunnarson?" Hartley asked.
"No doubt; read in the papers about another antique collector... the man who lives here said he was going to put an old blade up for auction... can't remember what exactly, but it's an old weapon" Gunnarson explained.
"What's so special about it?" Hartley asked.
"It can be linked directly to Robert the Bruce" Gunnarson explained. Hartley almost tripped over himself when he heard such a declaration. "As in the King of Scots?! The one who won the First war of Scottish Independence in the 1300s!?"
"The same. You go around back and I'll wait here; there's only two ways off this estate that aren't surrounded by wrought iron fences" Gunnarson explained; the estate may have been big, but it was also small enough to see around the exterior at least.
"Will do" and Hartley split up to cover the other entrance.
Gunnarson waited outside the front, and Hartley waited outside the back. Gunnarson switched between turning around to see the estate itself, and looking outside to see if anyone suspicious was approaching. After what felt like an eternity, it finally happened- Gunnarson saw some bushes shake, and then a figure emerged from the bushes and approached the house. Using the ledges, he proceeded to climb up to the second floor, and unscrew the hinges of the windows. "My God... it's him!" Gunnarson thought to himself in shock.
From across the estate, Hartley ran up to Gunnarson at a pace the Swede didn't think was possible. "You saw that too?" he asked. Gunnarson nodded as he led they frantically ran to the door and rang the bell. A gentleman proceeded to answer the door.
"Can I help you sir?" He asked Gunnarson. By sheer chance, the window in question was within view of the doorway, so all Gunnarson had to do was point, "that man is going to rob you!" He stated.
The Gentleman looked up in shock, "Oh my God!" he declared as the man successfully opened the window and climbed inside.
"Call the police! I'll slow him down!" Gunnarson said as he pulled out his service revolver and ran in, with Hartley not too far behind.
"Up the stairs! Third door on the right!" the gentleman directed and he frantically ran to a phone. Gunnarson found the door unlocked. Holding his ear against the door to confirm, he heard noise and nodded. He proceeded to swing the door open, but gestured Hartley to stay behind a bit. Low and behold, there was the figure, getting ready to steal the blade. Gunnarson pointed his revolver right at him.
"Monsieur Doux, I presume?" He said, as the figure looked towards him. Gunnarson was taken aback by what he saw. He looked nothing like your typical burglar. The man was wearing a trenchcoat, fedora and covering his face was, of all things, a gas mask.
"Don't you know you never bring a knife to a gunfight?" Gunnarson said, slowly approaching him.
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Post by Tug on Mar 3, 2019 23:29:54 GMT -5
"Pensez-vous que je porte ce masque pour le plaisir cuisinier suédois?" said a muffled voice as the hand opposite of the one about to grab the knife dropped a canister which released a gas into the air...
"Cough... Cough... Hartley! Stand back! Cough Cough! This man just dropped tear gas!" yelled a crying Gunnarson as he dropped his gun in pain and ran out of the room. during the commotion, Doux grabbed the knife and began to leap through the window...
"He's mad! Cough Cough! This is the second floor! Cough!" shouted the teary eyed owner as he crawled out of the room as well
Monsieur Doux leapt out the window as he landed the bushes he emerged from and began to climb the fence, shouting, meanwhile, "A bientôt, Suédois!"
"Gunnarson, what should I do?" asked a frantic Hartley
"Cough Cough! Don't mind me! Cough! Stop that thief!" yelled Gunnarson as he tried to get away from the seeping gas
"Right!" replied Hartley as he bolted out the door, gun in hand
Doux had already made it over the fence by the time Hartley was back outside. Doux began to look both ways down the street as out of no where a van darted down the street and pulled up in front of Doux. The van's back doors opened as Doux "seemingly" jumped in as the van drove away...
"Damn! He got away Gunnarson!"
.....
Doux had been at an impasse, not expecting himself to caught this quickly, and with the research he had done he knew the first person to figure out it was him would have to be the Private Detective Adolf Gunnarson, and his hunch had been right, luckily he always had a Plan B, though he did not have a Plan C, meaning a way to escape since he usually did all of these jobs on foot. Realizing this tactic was about to bite him, he never expected to be almost run over by a van, then forcefully pulled into its rear doors...
"Look gentlemen, I thank you for the rescue, but I'm just a simple thief, I'm of no value to you English types..." spoke Doux in his best broken English impression...
"Save the act, 'Monsieur Doux', my boss wants to speak with you" replied the Leader of the thugs who was currently pointing a gun at Doux
"And who might you be, much less, your boss?" asked Doux
"I'm Sloan Hawthorne, I'm the Ripper Underground's Lieutenant in charge of all things thievery, and Lord Bury wants to speak with you..." grinned the man
.....
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Post by frankthetriviaman on Mar 3, 2019 23:53:16 GMT -5
The police arrived within the hour, and the site was... chaotic, to say the least. Gunnarson, Hartley, and the homeowner had sprawled out a good distance from the house, as what seemed to be some sort of cloud coming from the house was slowly dissipating.
Although the officers didn't give Gunnarson much of a glance, the Swede lucked out with the detective, fortunately. The burglary detective dispatched to the scene was Beck.
"Gunnarson, what happened?" Beck asked.
"This guy was... was something else. He's no one-off street thug, this guy knows what he's doing" Gunnarson said between breaths.
"Did you get a look at him?" Beck questioned.
"Not even, he was wearing a gas mask and Fedora, and he spoke... I think French?" Hartley added.
"Don't tell me" Beck said in shock.
"I hate to say it... but it was Monsieur Doux and he got away" Gunnarson finished.
"Did you see where he ran off?" Beck continued
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Post by Biblically Accurate Angel on Mar 10, 2019 12:15:17 GMT -5
"Unfortunately, I did not," said Gunnarson. "I heard the sound of a motor, but that was all."
"What do you mean, a motor?" asked Beck.
"Like that of a car or something," said Gunnarson. "It may be nothing, I don't know, but that's the only thing I can offer you."
"I see," said Beck. "One final question..."
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Post by frankthetriviaman on Mar 10, 2019 18:06:07 GMT -5
"Is there anything you can tell me about this "Doux" fellow?" Beck asked.
"Not sure... he sounded French, but he definitely isn't some street thug. He's got skills, and access to tools regular folks don't have" Gunnarson explained.
"I can't help but feel like there was something familiar about him though" Hartley added.
"Wait... do you think this is the same Doux you met, Hartley?" Gunnarson asked.
"I... I don't know. The voice was muffled behind the mask... but he was definitely of the right height and skin tone, from what I could see of his neck. Then again, he seemed... thinner. The Doux I remember was... a good thirty pounds or so bigger than that man" Hartley said, confused.
"Guess that leaves only one question.... what now?" Beck thought aloud.
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Post by Toz76 on Mar 20, 2019 18:40:34 GMT -5
Suddenly, a man ran in with a telegram for Beck. He read it with interest.
"Detective Sallis just got us another lead- apparently one of the items "Doux" stole popped up on the black market in the hands of a Spider's Web operative."
Gunnarson was all too familar with the Spider's Web. They had been around for a while, and had a finger in nearly every criminal business in the game. They had ties to the Blade Syndicate, the Black Scorpion... even the Ripper Underground was on relatively friendly terms with them. No one knew much about the Web, as it was a loose organization of mostly lone wolves who only knew a few other members for safety reasons, but the "One-Eyed Man" who led them was a legend in the criminal underworld.
"That suggests Doux is either selling to the Web or isn't working alone... it makes sense, art theft is only profitable if you can pawn off the art in question. The question is, is it worth following up?"
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Post by frankthetriviaman on Mar 20, 2019 19:44:41 GMT -5
Gunnarson thought it over before deciding, “it is the best lead we’ve got so far. Being one of the more established crime lords I wouldn’t be surprised if The One-Eyes Man was facilitating Doux’s crimes. Is the item in question in police custody?” Gunnarson asked
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Post by Toz76 on Mar 20, 2019 20:25:25 GMT -5
"Not yet, but we've traced the buyer and Sallis is en route as we speak..."
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Post by frankthetriviaman on Mar 24, 2019 20:07:54 GMT -5
"Perfect; where is the associate in question?" Gunnarson asked. "Apparently, he's being cornered in..." Beck said as he read the telegram, "Glasgow, Scotland" Beck said in disbelief. "Glasgow? Let me see that" Hartley said as he took the telegram and looked at the information, "Gunnarson, this isn't too far from where my brother's family lives" he observed. "Beck, we'll take this off your hands; tell Sallis help is on the way. Hartley, let's get to St. Pancras station right away" Gunnarson said as Hartley nodded in agreement. A couple hours later, the two boarded an express train to Glasgow; Hartley decided to kill time by reading a book. "Hartley... is that a... children's book?" Gunnarson asked. "Yes, my younger nephew insisted I read it. So apparently there's this clergyman with a thing for trains... wrote a book about talking engines. Figured it would be appropriate for the ride" Hartley quipped. Gunnarson looked at the title... "The Three Railway engines... what's it about?" Gunnarson asked. "It's four smaller stories... one is about an engine leaving a shed, then the engine helps a big engine with a freight train, then another engine won't leave a tunnel, and in the last story..." And Hartley explained that the finale brought the three engines together. "And people are actually buying that book? What nonsense! It'll never sell; why, why, I think I'd sooner eat my hat than that clergyman would write a sequel to that book!" Gunnarson declared. (Note: it's 1950 here )
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Post by Toz76 on Mar 24, 2019 20:34:57 GMT -5
"Oh, he did... three in fact, with another on the way."
"I see... how interesting..."
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Post by frankthetriviaman on Mar 24, 2019 21:07:14 GMT -5
(Sorry- March 1950, specifically)
So, with Hartley unaware that the new sequel had come out a couple months ago, he proceeded to read the book while Gunnarson looked out the window, staring at the scenery.
.........
Several coaches down, Abigail and Ellen happened to have boarded the train themselves; Abigail wanted the truth of the matter and decided to take things into her own hands. Thanking the Private Investigator from earlier, he had arranged to travel to Scotland and find out just what was going on, if this was truly her James.
"Mom, are you sure that this man is Dad?" Ellen asked.
"I'm almost certain dear... I don't know what to believe at this point, but if this is who I think it is... why would I receive that letter that he had been killed?" She asked aloud.
......
When the train finally arrived in Scotland, Gunnarson and Hartley made their way to the specified address.
Outside the place was a phone booth, so Hartley decided to take a moment. He went to call Cricket, who was back in London. But once again, she hung up right away.
"I don't get it... why?" He asked himself. But there was no time to ponder this. At the door, they were greeted by Sallis.
"I hope you do not mind sir; but I do have reason to believe that this man is connected to a string of burglaries I have been investigating" Gunnarson explained.
"Beck explained everything to me, so do not worry" Sallis assured.
"What do we know about this man and the item recovered?" Gunnarson asked.
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