Thrillers: One After Three - a Crime Thriller the White Lion - a Supernatural Thriller

By Keith Stonier

This book contains two stories from the dark side of the author’s imagination:
- a Crime Thriller
- a Supernatural Thriller

Read it if you dare!

You have been warned!

• Language: English
• Publisher: AuthorHouse UK
• Release date: Jan 30, 2022
• ISBN: 9781665595841

Keith Stonier

Dr. Keith Stonier taught in UK schools for thirty-three years, including eighteen-and-a-half years as a head teacher. This was followed by twelve years in departments attached to Derby University with the honorary title, principal university lecturer. He continues to teach and work with students online. He has written twelve academic articles for journals and edited an adult readability book (for students with learning difficulties). His first published book, Inspirational Ideas (Authorhouse 2009, second edition), received critical praise in the journal Education Today, vol. sixty-one, no. four. He is a regular reviewer for the British Journal of Learning Disabilities.

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© 2022 Keith Stonier. All rights reserved.

No part of this book may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted by any means without the written permission of the author.

This is a work of fiction. All of the characters, names, incidents, organizations, and dialogue in this novel are either the products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously.

Published by AuthorHouse 01/29/2022

ISBN: 978-1-6655-9583-4 (sc)

ISBN: 978-1-6655-9584-1 (e)

Any people depicted in stock imagery provided by Getty Images are models,

and such images are being used for illustrative purposes only.

Certain stock imagery © Getty Images.

Because of the dynamic nature of the Internet, any web addresses or links contained in this book may have changed since publication and may no longer be valid. The views expressed in this work are solely those of the author and do not necessarily reflect the views of the publisher, and the publisher hereby disclaims any responsibility for them.

Contents

About the Author

Preface

Statement

One After Three

Part 1 Reprisals

Chapter 1 One After Three

Chapter 2 The Promotion

Chapter 3 Shockwaves

Chapter 4 Repercussions

Part 2 Reactions

Chapter 5 The Accomplice

Chapter 6 A Criminal Mind

Chapter 7 Deliveries

Part 3 Rendezvous

Chapter 8 Studious Engagement

Chapter 9 A Telephone Call

Chapter 10 Panic!

Chapter 11 The Prison Visit

Chapter 12 A Confidential Meeting

Chapter 13 The Get Together

Part 4 Recuperation

Chapter 14 A Police Strategy

Chapter 15 Undercover

Chapter 16 Infiltration

Chapter 17 A Hospital Investigation

Chapter 18 A Second Meeting

Chapter 19 Life in the Laundry

Chapter 20 A Surprise Visit

Part 5 Resolution

Chapter 21 The Way Out

Chapter 22 A Third Meeting

Chapter 23 Persuasion

Chapter 24 Anxiety and Flight!

Chapter 25 Emotional Technicalities

Chapter 26 Entrapment

Chapter 27 A Strategy

Chapter 28 Timing and Coordination, A Strategy in Action

Chapter 29 Unforeseen Results

Postscript

The White Lion

Introduction

Chapter 1 The Night of the Full Moon

Chapter 2 The Disclosure

Chapter 3 The Dawn of Realisation

Chapter 4 The Witnessing

Chapter 5 Nightmare

Chapter 6 The Fearful Companion

Chapter 7 Research and Trepidation

Chapter 8 Myths, Legends and Solutions

Chapter 9 Ominous Consequences

Postscript

About the Author

D r . Keith Stonier taught in UK schools for over thirty-three years, including eighteen-and-a-half years as a headteacher. This was followed by twelve years in departments attached to Derby University as a Principal University Lecturer. He has written many academic articles for journals, edited an ‘adult readability’ book for students with learning difficulties (not in publication currently) and is a reviewer for the British Journal of Learning Disabilities.

Preface

T his book, with its broad title Thrillers , presents a combination of crime and supernatural mysteries from the dark side of the author’s imagination.

The novel, One After Three is a Crime Thriller and the sequel to an earlier one entitled, Threesome. Knowledge of the earlier narrative is not required as the current text is self-explanatory, but readers may be surprised to discover what happens to the characters in this tale beginning with vengeful reprisals and ending … who knows how or where?

The novelette, The White Lion is a Supernatural Thriller. The origin of this story was an account by a Derbyshire man of a strange, personal experience, told to the author in the 1960s. This has taken many years to mature and build into the current tale. Readers may find the content unnerving and disconcerting.

Statement

T his book is a work of fiction. With the exception of brief references to Derbyshire and the City of Derby all place names, locations and people described in these stories are fictitious. No connection with any known persons, living or dead, existing places, locations, buildings, commercial firms or enterprises is implied. Any similarity is coincidental and unintentional.

The convention has been adopted that a short story is of the order of 2,500 to 7,500 words, a novelette 7,500 to 17,000 words, a novella 17,000 to 40,000 words and a novel more than 40,000 words. This classification is a useful means of delineating the meaning of the words, ‘novel’ and ‘novelette’ as they are used in the Preface, although it is accepted that it does not acknowledge the ingenuity of many great works of literature from the past that are of various lengths.

One After Three

PART ONE

REPRISALS

Chapter One

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One After Three

Courtroom One, County Court, Manning Town, Denfordshire

Monday, 7thMarch, 1988

T hree, inexorable chimes sounded from the large, imposing clock on the wall of Courtroom One, sending a shiver down the spine of Peter Adams. He sat forlornly in the Dock with his head bowed, staring down at his shoes.

How have I come to this? Whoever put me in this position, did a thorough job, he reflected poignantly. There doesn’t seem any way out!

A door at the front of the Courtroom opened, just as the minute finger of the clock moved to one minute after three. The figure of the Right Honourable Sir David Smith, President of the Queen’s Bench Division of the High Court at Denfordshire Assizes, emerged through the doorway. He was an elderly man with glasses and thinning grey hair. Despite being short and overweight his robes gave him an imposing appearance. Peter stared at him with an increasing sense of shame.

I remember him. I’ve given evidence before him in this very Courtroom, he reflected sorrowfully, and made sure that we got a conviction.

As the Judge moved slowly to his seat, the Clerk to the Court stood and declared loudly, Everyone will rise. The Judge reached his seat, sat down slowly and the Courtroom became filled momentarily with the sound of scraping chairs, the rustling of clothing and whispered comments as people followed suit.

Peter Adams glanced up at the Gallery and saw the anxious, sorrowful faces of his wife and two children, but could not bear to look towards the back of the Courtroom where he could hear the sound of reporters from local and national newspapers scribbling on their notepads.

The Clerk resumed his official role and proclaimed imperiously, The prisoner will rise.

The sound of scribbling on notepads began again at the rear of the Courtroom and continued relentlessly thereafter.

Are you Peter John Adams?

Yes. He bowed his head slightly in acknowledgement.

Are you a Detective Chief Inspector with the Denfordshire Police Force, who is suspended from duty currently?

Yes.

You are charged with the possession and sale of the banned drug Heroin E, known as ‘Tiger Heroin’. How do you plead?"

Not guilty. He tried to make his voice confident and optimistic, but imagined how his plea would be represented in the following morning’s newspapers. Undoubtably, it would be depicted as weak and uncertain. To make matters worse, he anticipated that the type of headline used might be ‘Chief Cop Cops the Rap!’, ‘Cop in the Dock!’ or perhaps ‘Druggie Cop!’ No hope or consolation could be found in any part of the circumstances in which he found himself.

The Crown Advocate, Mr. Eric Fortuna Johnson QC, rose to present his initial address to the Court. Your Lordship and members of the Jury, it is my contention that a substantial cache of Heroin E was found in the defendant’s house on Tuesday, the twenty-second of December, following a tip-off to the Police. Furthermore, previous sales appear to have netted the defendant the sum of five-and-a-half thousand pounds. This was found, by Police, in a bank account in the defendant’s name. The defendant could give no explanation of how this sum of money was obtained. He paused, cleared his throat, smiled at the Jury and waved a hand dramatically. Witnesses will be called, one of whom is serving a prison sentence currently, but he is none the less important for that. Others are members of the public. The Prosecution will use their testimonies to show the full extent of the defendant’s drug dealing activities. As he is a high-ranking, serving Police Officer, suspended from duty currently, this is a gross dereliction of duty demanding the severest sentence.

The Defence Counsel, Mr. Leo Eversley QC, sprang to his feet as if he had received an electric shock. "Your Lordship, my learned friend is ‘jumping the gun’, so to speak. This Trial began less than five minutes ago. He is summarising evidence as if it is a fait accompli. The actual statements of witnesses have not been heard, yet and there has not been any opportunity to cross-examine."

Quite right, Mr. Eversley. The Judge frowned in the direction of the Crown Advocate, then turned his upper body towards the Jury. Members of the Jury, you will disregard Mr. Johnson’s summary of witness evidence. He paused. Proceed, please, Mr. Johnson.

Leo Eversley shook his head and looked down at his lap to hide his annoyance. The damage had been done and future attempts to limit the implication of guilt would weaken the defence inevitably.

Another forty minutes of legal presentation and wrangling served only to increase the tension in the Courtroom and intensify the humiliation felt by Peter Adams. Bail was requested by the Defence Counsel and refused by the Judge, on the grounds of the severity of the charges, although a suspension of the case was granted for more investigation. Peter Adams was led from the Dock and along a passageway to a remand room. No words were uttered and he could not look into the Police Officer’s face as he was handcuffed. He had trained him, when he had been a Police Sergeant.

The journey back to The Valley HMP (Her Majesty’s Prison), Denfordshire in the back of a Police van made him feel quite sick. He had not felt able to eat the formal Prison breakfast at seven o’clock that morning. Waves of nausea flowed over him as the van jolted its way along bumpy roads. The arrival at the Prison was a relief, at first, but it degenerated into a harsh experience as he ‘ran the gauntlet’ of taunts shouted at him from the cells that were passed.

Got yer sentence, Copper?

Way’l bay waitin fur thee!

Aargh! Thay’st got tharn comin!

Yer’ll be ere fur years!

The prison cell was one of the bleakest sights of his life. The door clanged shut behind him and he sat disconsolately on the uncomfortable bed, with its single pillow and rough blanket. Hours seemed to pass and he could neither move or bring himself to think about anything, except the shame of the morning’s experience. Then, he heard quiet footsteps in the corridor outside and a soft, subtle knock at the metal door; almost imperceptible as if it was calculated to be just sufficient for him to hear, yet inaudible to the occupants of the cells on each side. A piece of paper appeared under the door. He moved towards the door warily, half-expecting the sound of a releasing door lock and the sudden opening of the door towards him, but this did not occur. Footsteps diminished as someone walked away, along the corridor very quietly. Whoever had delivered the note had gone.

The note contained a single-word message: ‘GOTCHA!’ He sat down on the bed again, read the piece of paper several times and tried to draw his thoughts together about the events of the previous year that, undoubtably, had given rise to his plight. Clearly, this was a reprisal. The reasons were self-evident, but how had they managed it and how could he clear his name?

This cannot go on! he muttered. Things have to change, for the better!

Finally, his mind returned to the events surrounding his promotion only three months earlier. He pondered endlessly about whether or not this was a useful starting point to try to resolve this terrible situation.

Chapter Two

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The Promotion

Denfordshire Police Headquarters

Wednesday, 25thNovember, 1987 (10.00am)

D enfordshire Police Headquarters was positioned close to the centre of the County, half-way between the towns of Harpton and Burstage. The stylish, double-storeyed building had been designed to resemble an office block with the exception of its entrance-way, that jutted out squarely in the form of a flat-roofed extension at the exact centre of the frontage. A large, impressive crest hung over the double entrance doors consisting of a seven-pointed, blue star topped by the emblem of a crown. Inside the star, there was a grey ring, bearing the words, Denfordshire Police .

There were substantial car parks at the front and rear of the building with spaces for private and official Police vehicles. On this special occasion, the car parks were full as officers from all of the Denfordshire Police Divisions had assembled for one of their combined meetings. The Dining Room functioned as an Assembly and Large Meeting Room on such occasions. The polished parquet floor would have been a credit to any establishment, although the metal chairs and leather-soled shoes of Police Officers made sharp, squeaking noises on its shiny surface as the room filled with people.

The Chief Constable was seated, at the other side of a table from his audience, at the front of the room. He waited for a full five minutes, with a serious expression on his face, until the clearing of throats and small talk had subsided. At last, he stood and stared around him. His large, bulky figure, immaculate uniform and quasi-military stance provided an imposing presence and seemed to demand total, concentrated silence.

The opening speech was precise, with many short, sharp statements and little humour. His voice mellowed noticeably as he ended his speech and turned to the tasks of announcing a series of promotions and congratulating staff on their achievements. Those about to be recognised and honoured sat in precise order on the front row. The officer occupying the first seat, next to the central aisle, was Detective Inspector Peter Adams, a tall, broad-shouldered man in his early forties. He had risen through the ranks from Police Constable to his current position over a period of twenty-two years. His thick mane of hazel-coloured hair was greying slightly at the temples. He had piercing blue eyes and a warm smile. Those who knew him well were aware of his shrewd, direct manner of working and he was respected highly among his fellow officers.

So, without any more ado, stated the Chief Constable, I will declare our first promotion of the day. He beckoned to Peter Adams, who stood and walked out to join him at the front of the room.

Congratulation!

Thank you, sir. Peter Adams, red-faced and uncomfortable, turned to return to his seat, but felt the restraining hand of the Chief Constable on his arm.

Wait there! the Chief Constable whispered. You have to put up with this when you move up in the ranks. So, get used to it; right now! He turned to his assembled staff. Let there no doubt, he announced sternly, of the reasons why this man has been promoted, today. He paused for effect and patted Peter Adams on the shoulder. He has solved an infamous double murder by arson and the murder of a local schoolteacher from the High School. Also, he has broken a drugs ring and made sure that the ringleaders were convicted. The people of Harpton and your fellow officers have a great deal for which to thank you. He shook hands with the trembling, embarrassed Peter Adams, before declaring loudly, "Congratulation, Detective Chief Inspector Adams!"

The long applause gave Peter Adams the opportunity to bow slightly, place a somewhat forced, modest smile on his lips and return to his seat. As he did so, he reflected remorsefully on the reality of his recent triumphs. Not without help, he muttered as he thought of the three people who had risked their lives to achieve such an emphatic, successful result.

The Chief Constable, by contrast, had not finished his eulogy. The success of Detective Chief Inspector Adams, giving rise to his promotion, is one of the most remarkable that I have seen in the Force. He paused meaningfully. But we must not rest on our laurels. No, indeed! Much remains to be done if we are to defeat crime on behalf of the good people of Denfordshire.

A further six officers were called from their seats on the front row, to receive commendations and have their promotions announced. Then, the Chief Constable beckoned a young, studious, bespectacled, plain-clothed man in his mid-twenties, occupying the final seat at the end of the front row, who proceeded to walk out in a shamefaced manner as if he was about to be executed.

The Chief Constable towered above his reluctant invitee and shook his hand vigorously. Then, quite unexpectedly, he grasped him by both shoulders and turned him around physically so that he was facing the audience. This, he declared, is one of our back-room boys! He paused, smiled and looked down at the young man, over his shoulder. I believe it is true to say that, without our support staff, we officers would be hard-pressed to achieve anything, nowadays! This brought murmurs of approval from the audience. Mr. James Wainwright, he continued, is such a person; one of the technicians upon whom we rely in our work.

Jim, the Technician, clearly was so discomfited by the Chief Constable’s physical contact and praise that they were beginning to act as humiliation, but he smiled meekly in response.

Congratulations, Mr. James Wainwright! The Chief Constable added. "You are, hereby, promoted to the post of Senior Technician! Well done, man!

Jim was slapped on the back, causing him to lose balance temporarily, and applauded enthusiastically as he returned to the front row. He sank gratefully into his seat and was encouraged by a whispered comment from Peter Adams, Well done, Jim! You really did deserve that. Without you, and certain other people we know, those cases would never have been solved!

Thanks! I was just trying to do my job, Jim murmured self-effacingly.

Meanwhile, the Chief Constable was preparing to leave. He collected his hat and white gloves from the table, nodded to another broad-shouldered colleague to take over the proceedings and began to walk smartly and uprightly along the central aisle. Everyone stood immediately, until he had exited through the double doors at the back.

His replacement at the front of the room wore similar official attire and could have been mistaken for the Chief Constable in stature, but his facial appearance and age were different. He had short grey hair and a well-trimmed, precisely-shaped beard. Chief Superintendent Peter Southwell was Head of the Harpton Division and his audience did not have to wait long to discover why he had been chosen to lead the remainder of the meeting. He remained standing while people sat down and the scraping of chairs ceased, then moved around to the front of the table and frowned. There was immediate silence.

After some throat clearing, he began to speak in a loud, bullish voice. My task, this morning, is not quite so pleasant as that of our Chief, he announced. "The remainder of today’s session can be summed-up in one word: drugs!"

He nodded in the direction of Jim, who had moved from his seat and was operating a projector, situated on a trolley at the front right of the room. A large, free-standing screen towered further back and to the right of the Chief Superintendent.

Lights, please! announced Peter Southwell curtly.

Immediately, the lights were switched off and blinds pulled down on the side windows with remarkable speed and efficiency, by officers stationed at various points around the room. Jim stood behind the projector, in his element at last, and images began to flash onto the screen as Peter Southwell spoke.

We have a serious drugs problem in the Harpton area, he announced sternly, as an image of an alley-way strewn with used syringes appeared on the screen. That problem is likely to spread across the entire County and beyond, unless we do something quickly. The next image was a map of the County of Denfordshire, showing the town of Harpton circled in red with red arrows emanating outwards. This is the new drug, out there on the streets, he called-out grimly, as an image of a blue-and-orange striped syringe appeared on the screen that was full of an orange-coloured liquid. "This is known as Heroin E or Tiger Heroin and has the additional nickname, Tiger Juice; it’s cheap and lethal in the wrong hands!"

The silence in the room was broken only by the whirring sound of the projector, as Peter Southwell called, Lights, please!

Within seconds, the lights were on and the audience could see the Chief Superintendent’s angry face.

"I received the last image that you saw on the screen from Scotland Yard’s Drugs Research Division on Friday afternoon, with the message that Tiger Juice had been brought into the country and found in various places the day before! His voice became raised, angry and tinged with bitterness. I have a question for you: can anyone, here in this room, explain how and why one of those places was Harpton, where it was found on Sunday afternoon? His rhetorical question was greeted with silence and bated breath as he continued, This is despite what has been done to put away some of the Moxby family and their so-called ‘Big Boss. He raised a hand towards Peter Adams. I can guess what you’re thinking, Peter. Yes! I know! We didn’t put all of them away. Some are still ‘out there’ and will be involved in doing the bread-and-butter stuff: the distributing. He paused. The real question is: how the hell are they getting the drugs into the country and into Harpton so fast? He banged the table. That’s what we have to discover and, until we do, we mustn’t arrest the obvious, small-time characters. This time, the pause carried a sense of anticipation. We know that it’s being used at the Prison and think that it may be prevalent in the University and the streets near to Harpton’s town centre. We have to direct all available resources to get this solved; quickly!"

Chief Superintendent Peter Southwell reeled-off the names of a series of high-ranking officers, including Peter Adams, ending with the words, See me afterwards for detailed instructions about your areas! He banged the table again. The rest of you: get out there and be vigilant! Any information, any clue, any encounters with your regular informers … He paused again, before shouting, Anything! The