The Lower Strangling Chronicles
Of all the places Jack Beach was sent to as part of his contract, none were as sleepy at Lower Strangling.
But here he was, in an empty churchyard, cowering behind a grave as he observed another man in the distance.
The man in question was Charlie White, a recent addition to the local council.
A rival party believed he was causing irreparable damage to both the council and the party and hired Jack to do him in to prevent further damage.
This wouldn’t be the first time someone had murdered a local councillor, or even in the vicinity of Lower Strangling, as another popular councillor had been murdered in the village’s lavender fields by a method actor who would go to extreme lengths to get into a role half a decade previously, amid a pandemic.*
Jack waited until Charlie was in a good position for an easy shot.
The councillor took a few steps to his left and was in range.
”Gotcha,” Jack said, a malicious grin on his face.
Charlie’s muscles seized up as he heard the sound of a gun cocking.
His breathing became erratic as his eyes darted around the graveyard.
Jack grumbled as he watched his target stumble all over the place.
Charlie locked eyes with a man in black hiding behind a distant headstone and ran off.
Not being one to give up, Jack leapt from his hiding place and gave chase.
The two men took several laps around the church, and neither man considered running somewhere else in the village.
Charlie had to stop and catch his breath. He buckled his knees and held them as he panted.
Jack’s pearly whites formed a trough as the hitman crept towards his victim.
Charlie felt something press hard against his inion and once again heard the sound of a gun cocking.
He grabbed Jack’s leg behind him and threw the hitman over his head.
Jack landed with a thud on the ground, his gun still in his grasp.
He winced as he rubbed his back with his only free hand.
Jack tried to rise, but Charlie punched him in the face.
The two men were now in hand-to-hand combat, the hitman struggling to free his hands from the councillor’s tight grasp.
Jack tried to trip Charlie up, but his target’s legs were too far away.
The hitman let out a guttural scream as he reacted to the pain in his arms from Charlie’s tight grip and the sensation of a hard stone monolith protruding into his back.
It was too much, and Jack dropped his gun on the floor.
He tried to reach for it, but the councillor did not let go of his grip.
Jack tensed his muscles and used all his energy to push Charlie off him.
Mr White went flying as he stumbled backwards and fell over another grave.
He growled as he rose to his feet, but before he could stand upright, Jack’s gun was on his forehead.
“So long, Charlie boy,” Jack said, the Cheshire Cat grin returning.
Charlie grimaced at his soon-to-be killer and closed his eyes, ready for his fate.
Jack started to pull the trigger but was distracted by the appearance of another person.
”Alright, boys,” a dishevelled man in his mid-sixties, clutching a shovel, said.
Jack glanced at the man and stepped away from his prey.
”Good morning, sir,” Jack said, placing his gun back into his revolver.
“Don’t let me spoil your fun, boys,” the man said, hobbling over to a bare patch of earth. “I’m just here to dig a grave.”
”Ah, excellent,” Jack said, sneering at the councillor, who scowled at him with crossed arms.
“So,” the gravedigger said, striking the ground with his shovel. “What brings you boys to Lower Strangling.”
Jack and Charlie glanced at each other.
”Work, mostly,” Jack said, striding to the perimeter wall. “I’m here on important business.”
”As am I,” Charlie said, moving away from St Gerald the Damned. “I came by plane from Milwaukee. I have an interview with the Guardian before returning to county hall.”
“Interesting,” the gravedigger said, his yellowing gapped teeth on show.
He made inroads into his hole as his two-person audience watched him.
“Don’t stop on my watch,” the gravedigger said as his hole began to form a rectangle. “You go ahead and do your thing. I’ll stay here.”
Charlie clutched his hands behind his back and sidled towards a gate leading into the village. “It’s fine. What we were doing was of no importance. I’ll meet my interviewer now, nice meeting you.”
His sidle turned into a trot as he made a break for it, but Jack ran after him and grabbed his collar.
”Actually,” Jack said, smiling at the gravedigger, “it was, but we can wait until after you’ve gone.”
Charlie growled as his would-be-assassin led him back towards the gravedigger.
“Very well,” the gravedigger said. “Nothing exciting about a man digging a hole, mind.”
”On the contrary,” Jack said, making the foolish decision of letting Charlie go and wandering over to the drystone wall nearest the gravedigger. “I think what you’re doing is fascinating. Digging someone’s final resting place is brutal work, but someone has to do it.”
Seeing that the hitman was deeply engrossed in the gravedigger’s toil, Charlie quietly backed away and slipped through the gate into the village.
Eleanor Peterson leant against the sofa in her living room, scrolling aimlessly at her phone.
Her mother, Sarah, used the sofa as a Chaise lounge, proofreading an article sent into the Guardian by one of their apprentice journalists.
Sarah’s husband, Dave, poked his head through the door and smiled at his wife.
”A man’s here, from the council apparently,” Dave said. “He says he’s here for an interview.”
Sarah sighed heavily and slammed her laptop shut as she sat up.
”Tell him I’m here,” she said, shaking her head minutely.
A small smile appeared on Dave’s face.
“Very well,” he said before disappearing behind the door.
Sarah’s eyes darted around the room until they fell on an unopened envelope on the table next to her.
She grabbed the missive and ripped open its casing.
Sarah scanned the letter, frowning as she progressed through it.
Charlie White strode into the room and broke Sarah’s attention.
He smiled and bowed his head. “Mrs Peterson.”
Sarah’s head shot up in the councillor’s direction. A forced smile appeared on her face.
“Charlie, welcome; take a seat,” she said, gesturing to an armchair.
She hid the letter in a drawer as Charlie eased himself into the armchair.
Charlie locked eyes on Eleanor, still slumped on the floor with her phone.
“This is your daughter, I presume?” He said, smiling at the young girl.
Eleanor gawped at Charlie over the tip of her phone.
”It is, yes,” Sarah said. “Could you leave us in peace, darling? Why don’t you take a stroll around the village.”
Eleanor grumbled as she got off the floor and ambled over to the window.
”I don’t know, Mum,” Eleanor said, gazing out the window at the sky. “I heard hail is predicted later.”
”You can come home when it starts, Eleanor,” Sarah said. “It should be fine for an hour or so.”
Eleanor sighed. “Fine,” she said, before skipping out of the room.
”Charlie,” Sarah said, getting her notebook and pen before her. “How are you?”
”I’m very well, now I’m here,” Charlie said. “For a moment, I thought I’d never arrive.”
”Yes, I know the feeling,” Sarah said, chuckling. “But at least you’re here now; that’s all that matters.
Sarah opened her notebook and began to grill the councillor.
Eleanor tiptoed into the central village, past the Hangman’s Noose.
Something in the distance caught her eye, making her pause.
Two men she didn’t recognise were in the graveyard. One was dressed only in black, and the other was digging a large hole.
She leaned forward and crossed her arms, edging closer to the drystone wall surrounding the church.
Once Eleanor reached the church boundary, she clung to the wall as she observed the two men.
The man in black checked behind him and then scanned the whole graveyard erratically.
He placed his head in his hands and screamed.
The gravedigger glanced at Eleanor and turned round to get a proper view.
”Alright, my girl,” the gravedigger said, leaning on his shovel.
Eleanor fingered her necklace, gazing all around her.
“Hello,” she said, daring to make eye contact with the gravedigger. “I’m just, er, walking. Ignore me.”
Jack strode over to the wall and knelt. “You’re local, I assume?”
Eleanor took a few steps back and crossed her arms. “I am, yes.”
”Ah, excellent,” Jack said, touching the wall. “Tell me, have you seen a middle-aged man wearing a turquoise shirt, grey blazer and jeans?”
Eleanor glanced up to her left, and a slight smile appeared. “A man came into our house; I think he looked like that.”
”Interesting,” Jack said, rising to his feet. “He’s called Charlie White. I need him so I can complete a job for my client. He was here but disappeared while I chatted with the gravedigger over there.”
Eleanor espied the gun in Jack’s holster. “Really? How insolent of him.”
”Yes, quite,” Jack said, cackling. “Admittedly, it was my fault. You see, I was distracted by this man’s work.”
He gestured towards the gravedigger.
“I’m just digging a simple grave, my girl,” he said. “Nothing too extravagant.”
“I see,” Eleanor said, startled by ringing in her pocket, accidentally pushing a loose bit of stone from the wall.
Seizing his chance, Jack grabbed a bit of rubble and placed it in his pocket to keep as a souvenir.
She gasped and picked up her phone.
An unknown number called her; she rolled her eyes and hung up.
Jack clasped his hands and smiled at Eleanor. “Would you mind taking me to your house so I can find him?”
Eleanor paused momentarily, gazing at the sky. “Ok,” she said, eventually.
She wandered up the road towards her house.
Jack bid farewell to the gravedigger and followed Eleanor past the pub.
The unknown number called her again; she growled under her breath as she hung up.
”Would you like any tea or coffee when we get there,” she said.
”Tea, please,” Jack said. “Milk, two sugars.”
”Ok,” Eleanor said as she approached a duck egg blue gate and the end of the road.
The gravedigger observed them disappearing through a canopy of trees before finishing digging his grave.
“And so I said to the police officer ‘, Do you know who I am?’” Charlie explained as he sipped a cup of tea. “The police officer told me he hadn’t, so I told him I was a local councillor, and thus the embezzlement charge was dropped.”
Sarah laughed as she jotted down what she heard in her notebook. “I’m sure my readers will find that anecdote particularly amusing.”
She leaned closer to her subject, making him inch backwards into his seat.
”During your first council meeting a couple of weeks ago, a Jaguar eType was stolen from the county hall car park,” Sarah said, scribbling in her notebook. “Do you have anything to say on the matter?”
Charlie’s heart began to race; he could feel the hairs on his nape stand on end.
He puffed his chest out and held his head high.
”Yes, as a matter of fact, I do,” Charlie said, taking another swig of his tea, “the two incidents are completely coincidental and have no link.”
Sarah smiled at Charlie before adding some words to her notes. “Has Stuart Kennedy started investigating the stolen vehicle?”
Charlie squinted as the sun emerged from its cloudy slumber in his peripheral vision. “Gloucestershire Constabulary are on the case; more details will be released to the public when they arise.”
“I’m sure the citizens of Gloucestershire will be delighted to hear that,” Sarah said as she wrote in her notepad.
She was startled by someone trying the door, and Eleanor and Jack barged into the room.
Charlie clenched his teeth, shaking all over and growling like an angry dog.
Sarah placed a hand out towards her interviewee. “Calm down. We’ve almost completed the interview.”
”Why are you so put off by Jack being here,” Eleanor said, gesturing towards the hitman.
Charlie’s stomach solidified as he caught sight of the hitman.
Sarah gleamed at her daughter. “Eleanor, darling, I’m afraid I’m not quite finished.”
”This can’t wait, Mum,” Eleanor said. “This man needs to see Charlie White.”
Charlie clung tightly to his armchair, holding his breath.
Sarah examined Eleanor’s guest. “Right. Couldn’t he wait until I’ve conducted the interview?”
Jack glanced around him, espying an empty armchair. “Possibly, if I’m allowed to sit in whilst you finish.”
”I’d rather he didn’t,” Charlie said, sinking further into his seat. “I find his presence very off-putting.”
Sarah sniffed the air; she wrinkled her brow as she did so. “I suppose he does have a rather pungent aroma.”
”Yes,” Jack said, easing himself into an armchair. “It’s my cologne, Sandalwood.”
”I see,” Sarah said, grimacing.
She noticed the gun in Jack’s holster and glared at the hitman. “I’d rather not have that in here, though.”
Jack clutched his gun. “Oh, I require this to be on my person. Don’t worry; my bark is worse than my bite.”
Sarah stared at Jack. “Fine. Just don’t fire it until you’ve left the house.”
The hitman smirked at the journalist. “Very well,” he said.
Charlie scowled at Eleanor, his face the colour of a Strawberry. “Why on Earth didn’t you answer your phone?!”
Eleanor gawped at the councillor, her forehead wrinkled. “When did you call me?”
“Several times a few minutes ago, trying to warn you about him!” Charlie said, pointing at Jack.
Eleanor’s eyes widened, and her jaw dropped. “That was you?”
Charlie nodded violently. “Yes, yes, it was!” He turned towards his interviewer, his veins almost bursting out of his chest. “You said she’d answer the phone if I called her.”
Sarah gazed up at the ceiling. “I did, but then I remembered that I’d told her to be suspicious of unknown numbers.”
Charlie dug his nails into the arms of his chair and shook violently, clenching his teeth and growling like a dog.
Sarah placed a hand out towards the disgruntled councillor. “Calm down, Charlie, we’re almost done.”
”Almost done,” Charlie said, “I have enough stories to last a lifetime.”
He glanced at Jack in the corner.
”Why are you so furious that Jack’s here,” Eleanor said, gesturing towards the hitman before turning to him. “Also, why do you need him so urgently.”
Sarah’s eyes bulged as the hitman’s gun reproduced itself inside her mind as if it were a picture in front of her.
A smile appeared on her face. She turned towards Jack.
”Of course,” she said. “You’re a professional hitman, aren’t you?”
A grin appeared on Jack’s face. “Got it in one. I’m contractually obliged to put this man out of his misery, and I’m already here several hours longer than I was planning.”
Eleanor grimaced at the hitman, her brow wrinkled. “Is that legal?”
”It’s more legal than the stuff that he’s been getting up to,” Jack said, gesturing towards his target.
Eleanor and Sarah inspected the councillor.
”Really,” Sarah said, leaning forward towards her subject.
Charlie gazed in the opposite direction, admiring the antique furniture in the room.
His head rotated back in Sarah’s direction. “Have we discussed my childhood in rural Gloucestershire?”
Before she could answer, her attention was grabbed by Dave poking his head round the door once more.
“I’ve just called the Police; there’s a car by the church that looks suspiciously like the one that was stolen from Shire Hall a few days ago,” he said.
Sarah turned back towards the man adjacent to her and simpered at him. “Really? A fascinating coincidence, wouldn’t you say, Charlie?”
Charlie did his best to steady his hand as he brought a steaming cup of tea to his mouth. “Yes, I would.”
He gulped down a boiling drop of his beverage, eyeing his soon-to-be-killer, who was leering at him.
Charlie’s body sagged, his back bowed.
The councillor stared at his feet. He knew he was about to die; all he could do was ensure his final interview was the send-off he deserved.
He slowly raised his head and regarded the journalist in front of him. “Can we complete the interview now?”
Sarah smiled as she reopened her notebook. “Yes, we can.”
So Eleanor and Jack sat and watched as Charlie White gave his first and last full interviews as a councillor for Gloucestershire County Council.
However, Jack never got to complete his assignment, for the police came to Lower Strangling to inspect the car just in time to arrest both Charlie on suspicion of car theft and embezzlement as well as Jack for attempted murder.
With the ordeal over, Sarah and Dave took Eleanor and their son William to WonderWhirl Park to release some steam.
”I know Charlie wasn’t particularly great,” Eleanor said, “but I’m glad he wasn’t murdered.”
Her mother laughed. “Yes, I suppose it’s good not to have that on our conscience, and I’ve got a juicy article to boot.”
”Are you not publishing Charlie’s interview, then,” Will said, gazing up at a roller coaster doing seemingly impossible somersaults.
”Oh no, I’m still publishing that,” Sarah said, “but now I have another tell-all article revealing the nature of Charlie’s crimes and his near-death experience, which I’m being paid double for.”
”With that and the reward money we’re getting for reporting the stolen Jaguar, we’ll be raking in a tidy sum,” Dave said, grinning. “Not bad for a day’s work.”
Sarah glared at her husband. “We’ll be giving it to charity, won’t we, Dave?”
Dave sighed heavily and lowered his head, letting out a heavy sigh. “Yeah, we will.”
The Petersons wandered over to someone selling Candyfloss.
Eleanor frowned as she gazed at the tarmac beneath her feet. “That poor man dug a hole for no reason.”
Sarah placed an arm around Eleanor’s shoulders. “What man, darling?”
“There was a gravedigger outside St Gerald’s,” Eleanor said. “But now Charlie’s not been killed, that grave will be empty.”
Sarah chortled heartily. “That’s just Seamus, darling; he digs graves for Simon when conducting a funeral.”
Eleanor pursed her lips as she gazed at her mum. “Oh, so he wasn’t digging a grave for Charlie?”
”No,” Sarah said. “An elderly woman died in Middle Strangling a week ago. Her burial’s on Saturday; it was her grave that Seamus was digging.”
Eleanor grabbed a stick of candyfloss and ate it. “So everything’s fine then?”
”Yes,” Sarah said before espying a hole in her daughter’s dress. “Except what you’re wearing. Look at the state of it.”
Eleanor examined the hole in her dress; a flush appeared across her cheeks.
She winced, making eye contact with her mother. “Oops, my bad.”
Sarah sighed. “It’s fine; we can sort that out.”
So the Petersons collected their candyfloss and continued to explore WonderWhirl before driving off to find a local seamstress.
* Read the whole saga here:
The Robinsonverse 