Jason Turns Detective

By Violetta Antcliff

When Jason is on the war path, sparks fly and it's time to head for cover.*Incensed at the inactivity of police when pets go missing, he decides to take things into his own hands. Spurred on by his success when he reunites one dog with its owner he hatches a plan to catch the real villains. However, the only way he can see of doing this is b

• Language: English
• Publisher: Gypsy Shadow Publishing
• Release date: Mar 9, 2020
• ISBN: 9781619504431

Violetta Antcliff

Violetta Antcliff has been a member of the Nottingham Writers' Club for over twenty years. A winner of numerous short story competitions, her work was area short listed in Waterstone's Wow Factor story competition. Took first prize in Nottingham County Council short story competition with a story called "Irish Mouse Tales," which was published by Gypsy Shadow Publishing as an eBook in July of 2012. She has had her poetry and short stories read on local radio. Violetta is a prolific writer of short fiction, having written and published more than 40 short stories with Gypsy Shadow.

Book preview

Contents

Copyright Page

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

Chapter 5

About the Author

Jason Turns Detective

by

Violetta Antcliff

All rights reserved

Copyright © February 9, 2014, Violetta Antcliff

Cover Art Copyright © 2014, Charlotte Holley

Gypsy Shadow Publishing, LLC.

Lockhart, TX

www.gypsyshadow.com

Names, characters and incidents depicted in this book are products of the author’s imagination, or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events, locales, organizations, or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental and beyond the intent of the author or the publisher.

No part of this book may be reproduced or shared by any electronic or mechanical means, including but not limited to printing, file sharing, and email, without prior written permission from Gypsy Shadow Publishing, LLC.

ISBN: 978-1-61950-443-1

Published in the United States of America

First eBook Edition: April 1, 2014

Chapter One

When Jason made his way downstairs, it was still only six thirty and the rest of the family were only just stirring. Alison, still in her pyjamas, poked her head round the bedroom door and in no uncertain terms told him to get a move on and see who it was leaning on the front door bell.

Although it was still dark outside, Jason could just make out the shape of a woman through the glass panel in the door.

He fumbled. Drawing back the bolts and turning the key in the lock, with the safety chain still securely in place, he opened the door a crack and peered out. He was astonished to see old Mrs. Pilkington, one of their neighbours, standing there; usually she didn’t rise in the winter months before eight-thirty in the morning. She had a regular routine, or so she’d told his mother. Her first task of the day after washing and dressing, was to feed the dog; after that she sat down to her own breakfast—porridge in the winter, cornflakes spring and summer. Next came walkies and shopping. Her routine, apart from the extra thirty minutes in bed during the winter months, never varied, so Jason was more than surprised to see her standing on the doorstep at such an early hour.

Anything the matter? he asked. The fact the woman wasn’t wearing a coat and still had her slippers on hadn’t gone unnoticed by him. You’d better come in, he said, removing the safety chain and opening the door to its full extent. He stepped swiftly to one side, just in case she stepped on his toes. But no sooner had the woman placed her foot over the threshold than she slumped to the floor.

Jason was horrified. Mum, Dad, come quickly, he yelled. I think Mrs. Pilkington’s just dropped dead.

Within seconds the thudding of feet, both slippered and bare, could be heard pounding down the stairs.

All this noise set little Emily Louise bawling at the top of her lusty little lungs. And with his mother shouting, Alison, look after the baby, and his sister shouting back, Why, what’s happening? the Foster household was in rowdy turmoil.

Mr. Foster, first on the scene and still in his pyjamas, took charge of the situation. He lifted the frail old lady up in his arms, carried her through to the sitting room and laid her gently down on the settee.

Is she dead? Jason asked. He’d never seen a dead person before and wasn’t sure what to expect.

No, she just fainted, that’s all, his father replied. She’ll be as right as rain once we get a hot drink inside her.

Jason could see the colour creeping back in the woman’s cheeks as his dad spoke, and when her eyelids fluttered and she opened them, he sighed with relief.

Alison, Emily Louise in her arms, pushed Jason to one side so she could see for herself just what was going on. Her mum took the baby from her and whispered, Go and make a cup of tea, there’s a good girl.

Why me? Alison grumbled. Why can’t Jason put the kettle on, he’s standing there doing nowt.

Your brother’s in shock, her mother replied, laying a cooling hand on her son’s forehead to test his temperature.

Alison, seeing it was useless to argue further, shuffled off to the kitchen.

Do you take sugar? Knowing the woman was sometimes hard of hearing, when it suited her, Mrs. Foster raised her voice.

Alison didn’t wait to hear the answer. Hot sweet tea is good for anybody suffering shock, she muttered, and once the tea was made, she stirred two heaped spoons full into the mug before bringing it through from the kitchen and handing it to the old lady.

You should have called me first, not Mum and Dad,