Xerses Franklin: The Saga of Gabriel & Melona

By Lee J Morrison

Xerses Franklin is a happy representative in a large company, travelling between London and other European Cities. He maintains contact with a group of University friends who are all successful. However, his life changes dramatically when he tries to reunite two of his best friends Gabriel and Melona.
Gabriel is a well-known Poet and Novelist, and Melona his estranged wife, is a PR Assistant with the same company as Xerses. Events spiral disastrously and traumatically out of control on THAT Saturday as their lives converge.
Abby a beautiful Cosmetics Consultant, becomes the loving wife of Xerses, and his alibi, as he seeks peace in a Caribbean retreat. Their love for each other grows as they narrowly escape death when trouble follows them, in this tale of murder, jealousy and hate.
Passions run high as true natures are exposed alongside an enduring and unrequited love in this new novel by Lee J Morrison, following the success of his previous book, The Many Faces of April Jade. This new novel marks an exciting departure from his usual format as he reveals the character of XERSES FRANKLIN: THE SAGA OF GABRIEL & MELONA.
Previous publications include CHRYSTABELLS SECRETS, 2011. THEO: A NEPHEW OF CHRYSTABELL, 2012. CHRISTINA: A SISTER TO CHRYSTABELL, 2013. THE MANY FACES OF APRIL JADE, 2014.

• Language: English
• Publisher: AuthorHouse UK
• Release date: Feb 4, 2015
• ISBN: 9781504936736

Lee J Morrison

Dr. Lee J Morrison was born in the UK, in Lancashire, with an Afro Caribbean father and ancestors from Kenya. His White English mother was from Derbyshire, with French ancestors and Viking ancestors from South Yorkshire. Lee qualified for a BA honours degree in London and graduated from the University of Reading, Berkshire (affiliated to Oxford), with a master of fine arts degree. Studying also in Paris, Lee taught at the University College London. He is now a PhD graduate. Lee was also a tutor with the University of Sussex, at Brighton, and at Hastings. Whilst married for twenty-five years and living in Brighton with a son and daughter, Lee extended his life experiences in other professions. These included construction and a very enjoyable time as a head chef at a popular restaurant next door to the Opera House. For several years he operated a successful landscape gardening business and sold and exhibited his own graphic art and paintings on a regular basis. Working also in London theatres and behind the scenes at the Royal Ballet, Lee counts actors and dancers amongst his friends. His musical tastes are diverse and he enjoys jazz, opera, Latin, and Caribbean genres. He was a semiprofessional singer and dancer himself with several musical theatre groups, a stand-up comedian, and a street performer in St Tropez and appeared on stage in Tunisia and Brazil. Writing has always been close to his heart, and he has penned poems, songs, and short comedy scripts throughout his life. Brandon developed along the lines of a detective story. Again it is based upon elements of reality, but it is definitely a fictional story. Although written in the first person, the book is not autobiographical to the author. Brandon is a young graphic artist and painter teaching at a university in New York. He finds himself endangered after he discovers one of his close friends, Hanwell Nnagobi, murdered in mysterious and gruesome circumstances in the South River. He becomes entangled with a subversive mob carrying out heinous crimes against humanity in his attempt to track down his friend’s killers, who are a threat to his own and his family’s safety. He is befriended by chief detective inspector McArthur, whose son Nigel is one of his students and who is also trying to crack the ring. Brandon’s relationship with his wife, Naomi, deteriorates, and there is much heartache to face with his children before he meets the mastermind of the ring face-to-face. As usual, Lee J Morrison presents his characters poetically with humour as well as with traumatic sadness, but here he moves away again from the passionate romance genre of his previous novels in the Chrystabell Trilogy and the happy ending of the romantic detective story The Many Faces of April Jade. He is acutely aware of social issues in the world and has travelled fairly extensively, but he nevertheless aims is to be entertaining and to present a gamut of emotions which encompass Brandon. The original hand-drawn black-and-white illustrations by Derek Vernon-Morris highlight the author’s vision of the drama, Brandon. Previous publications include the following: —Chrystabell’s Secrets (December 20, 2011) —Theo: A Nephew of Chrystabell (June 5, 2012) —Christina: A Sister to Chrystabell (June 28, 2013) —The Many Faces of April Jade (January 24, 2014) —Xerses Franklin: The Saga of Gabriel & Melona (January 30, 2015)

Book preview

CHAPTER ONE

The Administer of Fate

I am closing the apartment door quietly; I did not really mean to do it. I hope that this kitchen tissue will erase my finger prints from the door handle. I am no forensic expert, but I have taken basic precautions. No doubt there will be tiny strands of hair and follicles of skin all over the place, and things that show up as bright blue under lights, but I do not have a criminal record yet; if I say it myself I have been too clever until now.

Oh drat, I may be on CCTV, but the street door is automatic and there is no Concierge – I will just have to take my chances. By the way in case you are wondering by now, my name is Xerses Franklin. Say it softly, not too guttural, as though the X were a Z, and there was a soft double E – Zersees.

That is what my buddy - my good friend has just done. He kept repeating it softly and still more softly as his eyes closed resignedly and he slumped against the kitchen sink and slid to the floor. His arms were already too weak to raise his hands to the gash in his jugular where his blood pumped out in deep throbbing bursts.

I threw the carving knife down in disgust and panic, and then a voice in my head told me to pick it up and clean it. I washed it with cold water and then hot with detergent, to avoid leaving bloody finger prints on kitchen tissue and dish cloths. I also washed and carefully dried my wine glass, and placed it on the shelf, to remove further evidence of my presence.

Oh dear, oh Gods what have I done? I muttered to myself, but I wanted to open the window and yell, I am a murderer please take me and I have just killed one of my best friends.

It was self-defence. I know that they all say that, but it really was, but there is no witness to verify my story.

Why have I just killed my best buddy my mate, my friend? Well it is all a bit of a blur and a misunderstanding. But wait a moment. I was groggy may be, but wait a moment. I was a little bit winded maybe. He had thrown his glass of wine at me and then delivered a body blow sending me reeling backwards until I hit the closed fire escape door. He was coming at me again with a look of triumph in his eye and he held a long thin sharp knife, aimed at my stomach. I dodged and moved towards the central kitchen table, but he managed to trip me, and as I sprawled against the table edge, I spotted the carving knife. Gripping the knife I turned as he lunged again, and struck the left side of his neck with all my strength. I think that I severed his neck in half, and he dropped his knife with a clatter on the terracotta floor tiles. He was almost on top of me, but he fell backwards and slumped, as I said already, against the sink. His sink. In his kitchen. Why had luncheon preparations turned into a disaster?

Well, it was not because I insulted the diced Turkey, or the chopped Green Chillies. No. It may have been because I mentioned that I had met his estranged wife the day before and we had coffee overlooking the lake. You know how it is – we had all been friends before they married, and we still had a professional interest in common. In fact we had been at University together, and he had always had a passion for cooking and we held dinner parties which were great fun. A little rough around the edges, yes, because money was not that plentiful. Cooking was not his main subject, but after Graduation, he became a professional Chef for a while.

Before Gabriel and Melona separated – oh yes I almost forgot to tell you. Gabriel was his name, but he was no Angel. Certainly no Archangel either, but he could blow a mean trumpet riff. I have always been a sax man myself. Well, I used to call once a week for lunch with my partner who has also departed and so we are a couple of Stags ready for the Rut. Gabriel never really accepted their separation and continued to ask himself why. He still likes to entertain, and I continued with the routine. Well why not? His original recipes are something to die for. Oh forgive me that is perhaps not the most tactful phrasing. I nearly did die. It became a case of himself or myself who would survive, and I am not really sure why.

It was obvious Melona was - how shall I say it – oh, go on, that old cliché is hard to beat – having an affair. Poor demented bastard he somehow got the idea today that it was with me. As students yes, we had a frolic, she was gorgeous. I mean that she was really gorgeous. Sexy and sultry and intelligent. The kind of girl that makes every guy proud to be her friend and all the other guys jealous of the lucky guys. We had fun. There were two or three other close friends and girls, you know how it is. Groups of friends form because they have so much in common and respect for each other and they enjoy their time together.

Oh Gods excuse me – is that really Gabriel I have left there with a severed neck? I am going to my flat via a different route, and then I am going to change my clothes. I am not going to arouse suspicion by burning them, or dumping them. I am going to wash them thoroughly and hang them up but never wear them again, and then on Monday I am going to cut my hair even shorter and shave off my thin moustache. In fact, I am going to shave off my moustache today after I have had a bath, and shower.

I suppose that I will be listed somewhere as a contact so I can expect the police to call when someone finds him, but I am taking a short vacation. I travel a lot anyway. I own my flat and have no landlord so no one should be too aware of my activities. Maybe I will take a long vacation. I need to ask someone to be an alibi for today who will not crack under pressure. I have it. Abby will be my alibi if I call her and invite her for an early dinner, and maybe a club, and maybe –

Well I do like her, and I know she maybe loves me a little. She is very sweet but strong.

Hey! I nearly missed my Metro stop. My mind is in overdrive, and yet I feel sluggish at the same time. I will have a slightly longer walk from here, Champion Hill, but I will approach my flat from the opposite direction. Excuse me a moment Abby is replying.

"Oh, thank you darlin’. The Gods be praised she had no plans for this evening. She is a life saver!

Oh why did he make me kill him? Maybe I could just have hit him with a chair. How could he accuse me of breaking up their marriage? I loved them both. I had been one of the Best Men at the Wedding with Kieran. Yes Kieran was and still is a close friend. He landed a fabulous job, and lives in a large detached house in the countryside with his fairly large family. Gabriel and I are okay. I work mainly freelance and I do not have to attend an office or workplace every day, so it will not seem strange if no one sees me around when the Police start investigating and following leads.

You do believe don’t you? I had no choice. He was like a berserk animal who would not listen to reason. I know that I shall never be happy again. This morning will haunt me forever even if I find contentment with someone like Abby.

Abby wants kids, she wants my kids. Melona would not have kids. At least that is what Gabriel always said. It depressed him because he loved her so much, but she did not want his children. He was hot. I know he was hot because I knew girls who told me so and he was the kind of guy who craved proof of his virility perhaps more than some guys do; though it may be true to say that most men do. It is nature, a biological precondition. But with him it became an obsession, probably because it was denied by the one he loved the most. It would not mean as much to him if he fathered fifty children with fifty different women. He might even ignore them, because it had to be with Melona the one he had chosen to be his wife. Do not get me wrong. I am not calling upon moral judgements here or Religious ones, that is not the case either. It was just a personal matter. Now all that life and passion has ebbed away from his blood soaked body, oh why did I have to be the grim Administer of Fate?

I am almost there now. Almost in the temporary sanctuary of my own space. Good - I have not met anyone that I know, and there is a small park area opposite, so there will be no prying eyes of neighbours to report the time of my homecoming. There! The door is locked behind me. Forgive me if I pause for a drink, a neat whisky I think followed by a neat Brandy and maybe a glass of white wine. I have one of those cartons with a valve. Cheap sweet plonk I know, but I love it. That is better. I want to sit down now, but I must bung all of these in the washer, and immerse myself in the bath.

You will excuse me I am sure if I shiver a little with relief and shock. Aha – the soothing power of water, I wish that I could wash the inside of my brain as easily as I wash my hair. The best that I can do is freeze it with alcohol and probably bring on the early signs of dementia, or be unable to work as I seek to dull my senses and blot out memory. Gabriel is dead, but he has forced me into a living hell, an incredible nightmare for which there is no antidote.

My body is still toned due to swimming and a short exercise routine. Looking good my man even if I do say it myself. I hope that Abby will still appreciate it. I have electric clippers so I will cut my own hair. Why wait until Monday? Shaved down to a number one all over, in about ten minutes.

Ouch shaving a moustache always smarts a little, as the small hairs catch.

I hate to see it go. What will Abby think? I hope she still likes me – my life depends upon it, well my life of freedom that is. Xerses, Xerses. He spoke my name without the blood gushing from his mouth, because so much – oh so much was pumping from the side if his neck. Can friendship end this way? So easily, so tragically, so quickly? Apparently it can.

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Luncheon Preparations.

CHAPTER TWO

Time for a Change

Hi Abby, you are looking very lovely, I am so pleased that you are free tonight. I have just returned from Italy this week and I have submitted my reports already, so tonight is all ours and tomorrow as well.

Xerses – is that really you – I mean I know it is you but you look so different. Abby had an amused twinkle in her eye and surprise at the same time.

Do you like the change – a real mean loving machine in a sharp Charcoal suit?

Well, even a tie. What happened to the blue designer jeans and brown leather windcheater - did they finally fall off your back or has someone stolen them? Abby looked very appreciatively, but she always had a sense of humour.

Time for a change - things are looking up, and I want to look my best for a lovely lady like yourself.

And, - I know – your cute designer moustache has gone. Abby examined my face with intensity and I almost felt unnerved as though I was under a Police interrogation. Then she put her arms around my neck and kissed me on the lips firmly and gently at the same time.

I love you – I mean I love the transformation. She said, and I hugged her and kissed her again.

Thoughts were going through my head like should I propose and fly off to Gretna Green or British Guyana for an instant wedding, but a voice somewhere said not too fast stay cool. We decided on Thai food, and chatted amiably with a glass of wine or two. I was beginning to relax, and I was thinking again that I wish I had brought a ring so that I could propose properly. It was not just because I was still desperate for an alibi, I really wanted to, and I could not bear the thought of losing her to someone else.

As we walked through the city lights with our arm around each other, I whispered I love you too. She stopped walking and turned to me examining my face again with a burning intensity.

Do you really? Abby asked almost naively, but with a penetrating depth.

Yes, I really do. I said surprising myself with the depth of my own sincerity.

Enough to marry me? She inquired half smiling and half seriously.

Yes I would like us to be married and officially together. I would propose properly but I have not bought a ring. I said. Wow were things moving fast today. I felt like something had taken hold of my life. Manslaughter in the morning and Marriage in the evening.

No need. I know that you are not Rockefeller even though you do very well, and I have my Great Grandmother’s Engagement ring. It is worth quite a lot and I was waiting for the right time to wear it. Abby surprised me again as she produced a gorgeous jewelled ring from a little purse in her bag.

But, don’t you want our families to be present and have a party when I propose? I said, because I knew some women who did.

All that really matters is that we love each other, and I have waited for this moment ever since I met you last year. We can tell everybody and have a family party later. Abby never looked lovelier in her black dress with an asymmetrical white slash at the hemline, and short white pleated jacket. Black suede seven inch shoes with straps held her feet immaculately. She worked in cosmetics at a large store so her own make up was immaculate and remained so in spite of the moisture in her eyes.

Come here, I could eat you all up. I said as I hugged her tightly and kissed her again. It was as though we were in an island of love surrounded by rainbows. One or two people whistled as they passed, but the busy street was just a distant blur. Come on, I know just the place. I said taking the ring.

After a very short distance we were seated in a noisy pub, which still retained small seating areas divided by screens along one of the wooden panelled walls. I ordered champagne, and then knelt in front of the fixed table. Abby my love, It would be a great honour, if you would consent to become my wife. I said rather emotionally, somehow tears were not far away.

Of course I will, it is an equally great honour for me to accept your proposal. Abby said with beautiful composure.

I placed the ring on her finger. It was a perfect fit, and she admired it proudly, and we drank with locked arms, which led to much laughing when I clumsily almost split most of my glass, but just managed to restrain it. So this is what it was like to be really in love. Now I understood why my partner Valeria had left once the infatuation had well and truly subsided. There had never really been that little extra spark of something that was beyond the description of words.

One or two people looked across at us and smiled appreciatively, but most people were preoccupied and with themselves, and a large group of men talked loudly at the busy bar, vying with the dance music. Suddenly the original purpose of the evening broke through the festivities like a knife jabbing into my brain, causing a searing headache, which although of only the duration of a second, almost took my breath away. Oh, by the way if anyone should ever ask, will you say that I was with you all day? I asked casually.

Why? What have you done? Are you trying to dodge the Debt Collectors, or is Valeria or someone trying to claim half your estate? Abby asked with amusement and fortunately seemed to take the request very lightly.

Well yes, something like that, just somebody who keeps bugging me, and will not take no for an answer. I replied with my best charming smile, and a little laugh.

I don’t blame her, a charming hunk like yourself, but I hope that you will say no to everyone now. Abby said with that same combination of humour and deadly seriousness.

I most certainly will my love, my precious love, you can trust me. I said, and I really meant it. I know that it sounds clichéd, and men pledge their trust until the next woman catches their eye, but I had seen something unique in Abby that maybe I knew subconsciously before, but did not fully realise. I knew that now I had made a commitment she would be my defence and counsel, and swear on any oath that a lie was the truth.

I suddenly could not face returning to my flat in case there were detectives there. I could not bear the thought of anything destroying the unexpected happiness I had found this evening.

Hey – how do you feel about us finding a hotel tonight? We are virtually Mr & Mrs Franklin now, and it would be like a honeymoon night. My place is a bit of a mess at the moment? I asked with a slightly forced jollity, but she did not seem to notice.

Well - It is Saturday night and it is not every day that a girl gets a proposal, and we could have room service breakfast if we find the right place. Abby replied with shining eyes. She obviously liked the idea of continuing the especially romantic mood.

I took out my mobile and found a number, and inquired if they had an executive room available.

I see you are well prepared. Is that one you always use? Abby smiled wickedly and I knew that she was serious underneath even though she could not help her sense of humour breaking through.

I, - I – It is one that we often recommend to clients who need to stay the odd night or for two or three days. This was true, and yet I could not help faltering. Abby knew my lifestyle and what she was getting into, and yet I knew that she knew that it would all change for her. I leaned over and kissed her. I do not make a habit of proposing, and I do not need to apologise for the way I have lived, but tonight is the first night of the rest of our lives. I said gravely and sincerely.

I know honey. You are my soul mate and I am truly yours, I have just waited and hoped and prayed for the time when you would realise it too. Abby returned my kiss with a passion that flowed through me as she spoke.

Shall we text some of our friends and family now, or even call and spread the good news? I suggested as the idea hit me.

No, no. Let us just be Mr and Mrs on our own tonight, and tomorrow we will tell everyone. Abby decided decisively.

I was pleased because the horror of the morning was beginning to creep up on me again, and although I could not wait to hold Abby in my arms, texting and calling would have been too much. We finished our champagne and after a short taxi ride we were we were cosy and warm and sensual in our executive suite.

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Abby had never appeared lovlier.

CHAPTER THREE

Mean Lean Loving Machine

I awoke in an uncomfortable sweat and quietly availed myself of the bathroom so as not to disturb Abby. The room was not completely dark. Lights filtered in from the street, but I had no idea of what the time was. Temporarily I was disorientated. I hoped that I had not cried out in my sleep because in my nightmare I was yelling as a bright knife blade switched and lunged at me and somehow I was temporarily paralysed.

You may know how it is when your arms feel weighted and your legs heavy as though lashed to the bed and not even your head can move no matter how you will it to do so. However after a gigantic effort of will, I had finally managed to throw off the restraining shackles and sit up. For a split second it seemed that I saw the slumped figure of Gabriel in the plush hotel arm chair, and he leered at me with his head on one side as the gaping wound in his neck grew larger. I rubbed my eyes and he was gone and only the outline of Abby’s coat was visible over the chair back.

I took a shot of neat brandy from the minibar and returned to the bed. Abby moved slightly and whispered I love you Xerses. I lay down again and hugged her naked body lightly without awakening her and was thankful that sleep came upon me easily. So easily did I return to slumber that I did not awake until room service arrived with the breakfast trolley. Abby was already up and showered and looking snug and beautiful in a white hotel dressing gown.

Oh warm blueberry muffins, I love warm muffins. she trilled and pirouetted with one on a small plate. Mmm, and haddock and bacon and mini omelettes, and fruit salad. Oh darling this is a real treat.

You should have awakened me I said. As I raised myself on the edge of the bed.

What for? You looked so handsome asleep, and you need your rest. She replied pouring coffee and placing a cup next to me on the elegant bedside table. I need to take care of my mean lean loving machine.

After drinking my very acceptable coffee, I joined Abby at the small table, and noticed some of the story lines in a selection of the Sunday papers. Not in the main headlines, but there was a picture of Gabriel in a side column with the full story on page four. With hands that felt as though they were shaking one hundred times per second, and the feeling of blood draining rapidly from my face, I turned to page four with forced casual nonchalance.

INTRUDER SHOT DURING MURDER INVESTIGATION AFTER TRYING TO HOLD THE VICTIMS WIFE HOSTAGE.

The man in question was already wanted for questioning in connection with many thefts and cases of GBH. The Police were alerted by a neighbour in the apartment block, after she heard screams and saw a woman trying to escape from a man holding a blood soaked carving knife, who dragged her back into the opposite apartment.

The body of Mr Gabriel Dubonville-Villiers was discovered in the kitchen and it is believed that he was brutally murdered whilst trying to defend himself against the intruder who was ransacking the apartment. Mrs Melona Dubonville-Villiers surprised the assailant who held her at knife point when the Police arrived on the scene. Police believe that he was in the process of the attempted murder of Mrs Dubonville-Villiers when they arrived.

I read the story feeling incredulous. After the initial surprise, my first reaction was relief, and a sweat broke out on my forehead. But I was puzzled. The man was obviously a wanted criminal and he must have gained entry very soon after I left. Was I completely in the clear? Would I have let this man face charges? Would they believe me if I told them anything different? Forensic evidence showed the man’s guilt to be conclusive.

They had printed a version of Melona’s story. She was genuinely heartbroken. She must have arrived only a few minutes later than the burglar, as he rifled through drawers in the bedroom looking for valuables. He had already found the little bit of money, credit cards and cheque book which Gabriel kept in a drawer of the display unit of the dining room. He was obviously expert at his criminal craft and had placed some of the more expensive candle sticks and DVD’s in a bag. He was after anything that would be of the slightest value.

Melona called to Gabriel as she entered. "Hello darling are you in? I have decided to come back if you will let me. I know that I have behaved despicably, and you did not deserve it, but I want us to make a brand new start, and we can have a family. We can count our separation as a time of adjustment. Please darling answer me – I really mean it – Oh no. No. Aaaaaagh – what have they done to you?

Keep quiet bitch or I will kill you too. The intruder had shouted as he rushed from the bedroom to silence her screaming. He tried to grab her, but she ran around the table to where Gabriel slumped, his blood still warm and spasmodically trickling from his neck. She saw the carving knife on the table by the still fresh diced turkey and tried to grab it, but the man was upon her knocking it on the floor into Gabriel’s spreading blood. She made a grab for the second knife, but that ended up the same way, and the freshly chopped green chillies scattered as the bottle of red wine wobbled and then shattered on the floor.

Melona carried on screaming and running, as the man picked up the carving knife in his frenzy. Quiet bitch or I will kill you too. He repeated. You can join your husband if that is what you want – in death! These words were later added to the conclusive evidence as Melona had tried to ring for help automatically and had somehow selected record on her mobile. Her eyes were hazy with tears and fear. She reached the door which was still partially open and reached the hallway, but he caught hold of her and