Skibbereens: The Crime Volume

By Mike O'Sullivan

Skibbereens (as opposed to Limericks) are short sketches of humorous and philosophical observations on life outside of poetry and the usual short stories. This volume of 16 sketches covers different aspects of crime and criminals, victims, cheats, fate and chance situations, stereotypes and more......

• Language: English
• Publisher: Mike O'Sullivan
• Release date: Aug 20, 2018
• ISBN: 9780463574126

Mike O'Sullivan

Mike is an Irish novelist and poet, married and living in Herefordshire England. He was born in Dublin and spent his school years in Cork. In primary school Mike needed to get by the eagle-eyed headmaster who looked hard at his long essays designed to hide the words he could not spell. This carried on further up the line when at UCD the Professor of English likened Mike to another who could not spell, George Bernard Shaw. But Mike made the connection, he did not have to be a genius at spelling.He moved to London in his twenties and has worked in a wide range of industries – music and cosmetics, in oil exploration, mining, insurance, catering, City Finance and Management Consultancy. Mike uses that experience in his novels. When he first arrived in London Mike fell in with a group of three other Irishmen debating the philosophical process of making a million or finding a job that was more like pleasure. Mike found the job, but it would take too long to explain his philosophy here. Mike says that in a sense he had a plan for life and so far it has been working out.His novels often start with an individual battling the system but without a plan of how he or she will cope. Mike believes that social systems and institutions are usually rigid when it comes to change or quick decisions and therefore the individual can become trapped. It takes effort, some courage and guile to walk out into the wider world of individual thinking. He shows that an individual can focus enough to even the odds and come out on top. He often uses humour and comedic situations to make his point leaving the reader to consider the underlying philosophy if they wish. A key element of Mike’s writing is the Irish skill of fast paced conversation as Mike’s overall aim is to entertain his readers.

Book preview

Skibbereens

The Crime Volume

Short philosophical or humorous sketches

No part of this book may be reproduced in any form by photocopying or any electronic or mechanical means, including information storage or retrieval systems, without permission in writing from both the copyright owner and the publisher of the book.

This is a work of fiction based upon an actual event. Names, characters, places, brands, media and incidents are either the product of the author's imagination or are used fictiously. The author acknowledges the trademarked status and trademark owners of various products referenced in this work of fiction, which have been used without permission. The publication/use of these trademarks is not authorized, associated with, or sponsored by the trademark owners.

The right of Mike O’Sullivan to be identified as the author of this work has been asserted by him in accordance with the Copyright, Designs and Patents Act 1988 and any subsequent amendments thereto.

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To find out more about Mike O’Sullivan,

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CONTENTS

1 Inspector North meets the Conspirator

2 Flyboy Fenton

3 Murder in Binton Frome

4 The next big thing

5 Insurance

6 Ancestors

7 Insecure; bank tellers tell it like it is

8 Apples

9 Rats

10 A day at the call centre

11 Brogan’s luck

12 Argument for Hell

13 Appointment with Fate

14 The retreat

15 Resolve

16 The untethered club - the black hand

1

Inspector North meets the Conspirator

To set the scene I must relate a piece of Irish historical revolutionary news. A Michael Dohery, who was a friend of the Fenian leader William Smith O’Brien back in 1848, according to a recently published diary, fearing that his intentions might be discovered by the authorities and those intentions not being of a friendly nature took himself to Paris. As it is so poetically stated, ‘to become a professional in the art and science of conspiracy.’ Personally I wasn’t aware that one could get there by degrees, and I use the word ‘one’ purposely, because to include anyone else would lay myself open to a charge of conspiracy.

And then I thought, when charged with conspiracy, being able to prove one was alone must be the only time when the courts would accept being alone as an alibi. Normally they would only accept an alibi if the accused was drinking tea with the Chief Constable at the time. So you can picture the scene.

Sergeant Jones - He had an alibi Sir.

Inspector North - Well Jones don’t keep it to yourself.

Sergeant Jones - He was alone.

Inspector North -The best defence against a conspiracy charge.

Sergeant Jones - But he says Sir that he was alone with himself.

Inspector North -So Jones, are there two of him?

Sergeant Jones -It sounds like it Sir doesn’t it?

Inspector North -Hear say is no evidence Jones. What you’ll have to do is nail both of them together.

Sergeant Jones -That might be difficult to prove. I mean if he admits to being with himself we could get the both of them for it. But if he later denied it in court, we wouldn’t have a leg to stand on.

Inspector North - It’s not to do with legs Jones. It’s to do with hands. You have to catch them red-handed.

Sergeant Jones - Why red-handed Sir?

Inspector North - Red-handed, bare nippled, exposed knees, what’s the difference!

Sergeant Jones - Red-handed before or after we arrest him Sir?

Inspector North - Jones! Jones! How many times have I told you, we can’t beat them up any more.

Sergeant Jones - Perhaps we could get him in separate cells?

Inspector North - It would be a start Jones.

Sergeant Jones - Would these be little grey cells Sir?

Inspector North - Wrong detective Jones. But Jones.

Sergeant Jones - Yes Sir.

Inspector North - Jones there’s no sense in making him suffer more than anyone else. Order him a great pile of sausage, egg and chips.

Sergeant Jones - Would that be one or two plates Sir?

Inspector North - And make sure he gets lots of ketchup.

Sergeant Jones - So we can catch him red handed Sir?

Inspector North - You’ll make Inspector one day Jones.

2

Flyboy Fenton

The police under the command of Chief Inspector Rutherford, head of the special armed unit H4, waited outside of the Fluffy Chicken public house in the Darlington suburb of Wearton anticipating the emergence of Jimmy ‘Flyboy’ Fenton. There were seventeen police in wait armed with a range of weaponry from pistols to semi automatic machine guns, none of which had been previously trialed in a ‘situation.’ There were officers on top of buildings, in basement hideouts, behind hedges, in unmarked cars, in nearby offices and shop doorways. What worried Rutherford more than anything else was the language they were using, starting with ‘we have a situation.’

In the good old days the scene would have been described as an ‘agitated thug with a suspected gun about to leave a pub’. But the language was changing with each new initiative, or piece of paper from HQ, or the latest course the local police had been on. It had now got to a worrying point where some of them could not follow what the others were describing, as layer upon layer of misunderstanding led to increased threat. Along with that they were loaded down with their first opportunity to shoot at a live ‘target’. The word ‘suspect’ had long ago been removed from the files. ‘Target’ now said more about policing than anything else.

This time according to the informant, ‘Flyboy’ had acquired a semi-automatic machine gun in the pub. Rutherford asked why no one had enquired why such a low-life would suddenly move out of backstreet thieving, ducking and diving and generally being a nuisance to neighbours by spreading untrue rumours , into what might at first appear to be a hike-up to intent on mass slaughter. But in these days where Police Chiefs were as bad as politicians in beating the media to the next headline, such possible threats to the public and national security were considered priority.

The fact that Flyboy had been carrying no more than an innocent stolen golf club in a stolen golf bag when he ran out of the pub and all hell broke loose with him facing over two thousand rounds of live ammunition most of which landed on target, (not that there was much of a target left after the first rounds hit him), was entirely overlooked in the ensuing PR defense. It wasn’t what he was carrying that was the point, it was what he might have been carrying. The only saving grace, if ‘the situation’ could have had any according to Rutherford, was that they had avoided the idea of taking along an officer trained in the art of firing mortars, ‘just in case’ it had been suggested.

Sir Tom Clair, who had been promoted to Police Chief of England after some of the dreadful operational decisions he had made in the past, was put into the news headlines directly after the situation was dealt with but, as had happened in the past, was out in clear blue waters by the time the headlines arrived. What worried Rutherford was why it had all happened in the first place. So he did some checking. In the old days it was called detecting, but now the language had moved on to ‘profiling.’ He discovered that Jimmy ‘Flyboy’ Fenton was the eldest son of a family who lived in the village of Hardwood and he was the latest in four generations of flyboys. Their Modus Operandi was to treat all new acquaintances as hail fellow well met, make a show of helping them, get into their good books, tease out their weaknesses and then pray on these through rubbishing them to everyone else. The routine was well known locally. Even so, some people were taken in by it. Worse still others, who thought that the Fentons’ way worked well, copied their MO. Throughout the village there were people who genuinely believed the stories the Fentons put about, although others recognized that they talked only rubbish. But the trouble was once a rumour about someone started, it took on a life of its own and when it returned to the original teller of the tale they just added more to it. Even when the rumour was known to be completely unfounded it was surprising how far people still clung to the rumoured line, ‘no smoke without fire, better safe than sorry’, some would mutter not wanting to be caught out by the possibilities.

In the adjoining village of Ashfield Rutherford discovered one Joseph ‘Indiana’ Wedgewood whose life in the village was falsely based on a whole web of tales that Rutherford discovered he had initiated over the years. The deceit was extensive and Rutherford discovered unexpectedly that numerous Government agencies were already enquiring into Wedgewood’s affairs with his whole existence being questioned.

Rutherford believed that it was Wedgewood who might have sown the premeditated seed in the police informant’s mind. It was a long shot, only a possibility, but it was in possibilities that Flyboy’s life had been edged and ended.

3

Murder in Binton Frome

Frompy Pumpy the Chancellor of the Exchequer was found