Not All so Tall Tales

By Martin C. Coy

How would you react if you were a young boy who had lost friends when he and his family were transferred to another town to work and live? Or did you ever have people in your life who seemed to think they could do things better than everyone else?

Maybe youve wondered what would happen if you could go back in time to rectify a mistake you think youve made. Or perhaps youve thought about why life keeps putting roadblocks in your way to being rewarded for what you know you have done.

For some of us, it seems that finding the right soul mate will never happen; for others, solving problems in life situations is a calling.

Human behavior and its consequence is a dynamic that we all experience in our individual ways.

If youve ever heard it said that we are what we experience, then Not All So Tall Tales will provide you with some food for thought.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Xlibris US
• Release date: Jul 9, 2007
• ISBN: 9781462805112

Martin C. Coy

Martin C. Coy spent twenty years in the news media and twenty years in the counseling and education fields, studying and writing about the adventures of life. This is his second book. He lives with his wife, Patricia, in Frederick, Maryland.

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Copyright © 2007 by Martin C. Coy.

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.

This book was printed in the United States of America.

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Contents

ACKNOWLEDGMENTS

TALE I

THE CASE OF THE MISSING LETTERS

TALE II

THE LOST VALENTINE

TALE III

THREE SPOKES MISSING

TALE IV

REPEAT PLAY

TALE V

THE REUNION

TALE VI

THE FLIGHT OF THE SILVER MARBLE

TALE VII

MEDALS

TALE VIII

CURTAIN CALL

DEDICATION

To my family

with love

ACKNOWLEDGMENTS

Many thanks to all of those people who came streaming through the pages of my life for allowing me to see the human condition more clearly.

I would also like to thank time itself—from 1960 on—for providing me with information and experiences I could use in my stories.

My deepest appreciation to my wife, Patti, for her assistance in inspiring me to write this book. Her help in editing my stories and her consistent support throughout thirty years together has been indispensable.

I also thank my two grown children and my close relatives and friends for providing background experiences and character development for many of the stories.

And, last but not least, I thank the talented and creative staff of Xlibris for all of their help in putting my book together in such a professional and beautiful manner.

TALE I

THE CASE OF THE MISSING LETTERS

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There can be nothing else to do but to accept the case, said my friend Percival Klappner.

As we sat in his library finishing our breakfast coffee, I recalled how I had come to know him.

Percival Klappner and I grew up in the same town. We went to the same grade school and even worked on the high school newspaper together. And while we were not the closest of friends, we were still friends.

Then, after high school, Percy and I went away to the state university. Because he was studying English literature and I was studying biology, we went our separate paths and had little time to devote to our friendship.

After college graduation, Percival stayed on to get his graduate degree in English literature, and I pursued my degree in veterinary medicine.

As occasion would have it, I would see Percy now and then on campus. It appeared somewhere between his undergraduate and graduate days, Percy started becoming rather eccentric in his manner, speech and dress. I could only assume his study of Sir Arthur Conan Doyle’s works was having quite a profound influence on his life. He was becoming Holmesian in character.

I remember well the day he came back into my life again through my veterinary practice. It was the twenty-second of August, a hot summer’s eve, when Percy showed up at my place of business with his sick cat.

His look that evening was one of concern, inspection, and deep curiosity.

No longer the scrawny, ugly-looking little fellow of our youth, his present physical features impressed me. A tall man, weighing about one hundred and eighty-five pounds, a handsome face with a cleft chin and a Normanesque nose, medium frame with a seemingly slow, rather awkward gait, Klappner was truly a magnificent specimen to behold. And his attentive nature did much to not only increase the impressiveness he consistently extolled but also to confirm my suspicion of Doyle’s great influence on him.

Now, look here, Dillon, Klappner half ordered, half requested, have a look at my tabby here and let me know what you think.

Well, from what I can see, it seems rather obvious. It’s a common feline upper respiratory infection, I replied. Of course, I will conduct a thorough investigation and ring you up with the findings in the morning, I added, astonished at sounding Holmesian myself.

I remembered as he was leaving my place of business that day, he turned and said, Look here, old man, I think we can be of more service to one another than what entails the ailment of my tabby, From that moment on, our friendship and our adventures have soared to heights neither of us had ever dreamt could happen.

I have to admit I was quite taken aback today when Klappner informed me of his decision to take on a case of some missing letters of a Mr. Walsley with what appeared to me to be so very little evidence.

My dear Klappner, I said cordially, just exactly why do you feel so headstrong about this case?

Let me explain to you, Dillon, that things aren’t always what they seem to be. In this instance, the letter containing the missing letters obviously indicates there is a letter within a letter. Have at your coat, dear fellow, and we’ll be off to Bennington Square to meet the receiver of this correspondence.

The auto ride to the estate of J. Farrington Walsley was, I must say, very beautiful. Along the way, Klappner was quiet and subdued.

We arrived at Stonecastle at about 4:00 p.m. As I followed Klappner from the car, I noticed the front of the estate was more than grandiose. It spelled out vast wealth.

I say, Klappner, why must we entangle ourselves with this case?

For no other reason than for the adventure, Klappner responded as the front door of the mansion opened.

May I help you? the stately, balding manservant standing at the doorway asked.

I am Percival Klappner. This is my colleague, Dr. Dillon. We’re here at the request of J. Farrington Walsley.

Suddenly, we found ourselves ushered into the library where we were officially announced.

A Mr. Klappner and a Dr. Dillon to see you, sir, said the manservant toward a huge chair facing the window.

Thank you, Hinton, a soft, gentle voice replied as the chair swiveled to face us.

A man of about fifty years old, medium