The Shriver of Cheney Town: A Drag Shergi Mystery

By Kimberly Vogel

First Age, Year 948: Drag Shergi finds the winter to be an unsettling time. In his wandering, he finds his way to a church. Seeking sanctuary, he ducks inside. There, he becomes pulled into a strange sort of thing within. Drag didn't want to be involved, but they just wouldn't leave him alone. What is dark and what is light? Inside, the private detective has to find his own way to illuminate the problems within.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Lulu.com
• Release date: Dec 16, 2011
• ISBN: 9781105362835

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The Shriver of Cheney Town: A Drag Shergi Mystery

The Shriver of Cheney Town: A Drag Shergi Mystery

Kimberly Vogel

Copyright

Copyright © 2011 by Kimberly Vogel.

ISBN eBook 978-1-105-36283-5

All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or by any information storage and retrieval system, without permission in writing from the copyright owner.

This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents either are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to any actual persons, living or dead, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.

For additional copies refer to:

http://www.lulu.com/shakkathi

Acknowledgements

I want to thank my family and friends for supporting me.

Without you, I don’t know where I would be.

The Shriver of Cheney Town

Now I don’t usually visit religious institutions, but sometimes their mystery gets even to me. In the larger cities there could be a few, but in the smaller towns there was usually just one building, if any. As for the town I lived in, it didn’t really have one, so most of the faithful went on to the neighboring city. It was called Cheney Town. The name was deceptive, as it was more a city than a town now, but it hadn’t changed much from when the place had been formed as a small town centuries ago.

Right now was a time that usually brought out the faithful, as it was the end of the year. With winter firmly settled over the landscape, the mounds of snow piled up to make it hard to walk. The city maintenance workers tried so hard to keep the sidewalks clean, but there was only so much they could do. It was easier to clean the streets, as cars drove around with shovels anchored to the front.

To get there I rode on the bus. It was a couple hours to get from my town to the center of the city. Since the structure of the building was on the southern edge of the center of the city away from the more popular museum and shopping centers, it was a little less crowded on the streets. A little less, but it was nothing like how it would be on a normal day rather than in the holiday week.

While I stepped off the bus in the early morning, I found myself in a bit of a daze. The years were passing quickly. I was thirty years old now. I hadn’t been sure where I’d be at this age, but I certainly hadn’t expected to be in this situation. My career as a police officer had ended nearly a decade ago. It wasn’t entirely my fault or theirs. I just saw things in a different way; that led to arguments and my inability to follow the rules meant for only one side of the situation.

As with many retired officers, I became a private detective. Rather than fasten myself to a certain group, I decided to be entirely freelance. As such I lived very modestly, since the pay there didn’t work as well as I’d hoped. In truth, seasonal jobs provided me with the money for necessities. Now don’t get me wrong, the detective jobs I did sometimes got me money or other perks, but with the cost of daily necessities, the modest amount didn’t last as long as I’d hoped. Right now I didn’t have a case, so I decided to take some time for myself.

I pushed out of the daze to look up from the sidewalk along the lines of the building. Even with my six foot three inch height, I had to bend a bit backwards to see the rooftop. The structure of it was full of lines and angles. The height went up about seven stories then the eighth story was made from the attic where the bells rested under the roof. The only roundness came in the center of the building; it was enough of a circle that it stretched over about three stories. There were a few other windows around the sides that were for single rooms rather than the main sanctuary. The windows there were rectangular with domed tops.

Around me there were many people. As I stood still, I was like a log in the middle of a waterfall. The people went by me; some went quickly, some went slowly. Either way, the draw into the building was undeniable. Soon, the outside was empty, since everyone was inside. Well, everyone except me. I didn’t want to go in and hear the sermon. The speeches weren’t very long, but certainly long enough that I couldn’t spend all of my time outside in the chilly winter weather.

Reluctantly, I stepped through the outer doors into the building. There was a small outer sanctum that kept the inner sanctum safe from extreme changes in temperature. The echo of the sermon could be heard, but it was not loud enough to disturb other chats. Strewn around were several benches for people to sit on while they waited. It was to one of those that I wandered. As I gazed around, I noticed a few parents around who had taken their fussy children out of the service so they wouldn’t be a disruption.

When one of the women stared at me, I gave a small smile and bobbed my head. She just stared, so I continued my movement. I walked to one of the benches then sat there; I draped my arms over my knees while I rested. While I waited, there was much action, though it was only the parents attending to their babes. Once they’d calmed, the group returned into the inner sanctuary. I continued to wait outside. Once the sermon ended, the action returned to the outer room. The flood of people washed by me once again, as the parishioners hurried to return to their usual lives.

I stood from my seat. Since my height was on the taller side, I could easily see over the tops of most people’s heads. There were a rare few, though, who were even taller than I was. I couldn’t help but smile as I noticed them. With a soft shake of my head, I wandered through the open doors of the inner sanctum.

There were several rows of pews. Tradition made it so there was always a central aisle that the contraptions could be paraded down to the altar at the front. I really didn’t care for the church’s display of wealth. Over on the left hand side was a box which served for a confessional. The head priest would sit in there and listen to people’s problems. There was a strict code of silence in that box. What went in never came out so to speak. At the moment there were several people lined up to speak.

I hung back while I waited. My eyes turned so I could look at those in the pews. A few were bent over. With a soft sigh I wandered to one where I sat. I leaned