‘Is that for next door?’ Eleanor asked the green man who had emerged from the yellow van.
‘No, express delivery for Ms E. Fairfax.’
‘But I haven’t ordered anything, certainly nothing as large as that, is the box heavy?’
‘No, I’ll leave it just inside the front door shall I?’
Eleanor closed the door and rolled the box down the hall until she found the sender’s address.
EXPERIENCE OF A LIFETIME
RAINBOW WORLD LTD. OF MILTON KEYNES
She was reluctant to open the box; if she had been in one of her black humour thrillers, the box would be sure to explode. But on the other hand, any of her feisty heroines would have no hesitation. Eleanor fetched a sharp knife from the kitchen and ran it along the taped edges. On top of various packages was a rainbow envelope.
To Aunty Ellie Happy Birthday Love Ben
Inside was a gothic card of gold and black.
YOUR PASSPORT TO A NEW EXPERIENCE
CSI HIGHCLIFFE
One of Ben’s jokes no doubt. She pulled out the largest parcel, inside were folds of white fabric…
Eleanor picked up the phone. ‘Ben? Thanks for the present, maybe I’ll wear it to my book launch.’
No, you have to wear it on your birthday when you go for your EXPERIENCE. I know how much you love those CSI programmes, I guess it will be like one of those murder mystery dinners, but without the food. Should give you inspiration for your next novel.
She put the phone down and decided to read the instructions more carefully.
Saturday morning was bitterly cold, especially at Highcliffe. Eleanor was glad she was half an hour an hour early to warm up with a coffee in the Cliffhanger café. She planned to sneak into the Ladies to put on her forensic suit at the last moment, she looked around at the other customers wondering if any of them were there for the EXPERIENCE.
When she slipped outside she saw a van pulling up, black with gold writing
CSI HIGHCLIFFE
As two men in forensic suits got out, other white suits emerged sheepishly from parked cars. Eleanor was glad she had worn her thermal underwear, the wind was biting after the steamy warmth of the café.
Without any introduction the van driver addressed the shivering group.
‘Okay, report of a body on the beach, we need to start work before the tide comes in.’
Without further ado he strode towards the edge of the cliff and the footpath sign. Eleanor tried to read the expressions on the faces of her six companions, but straggling in single file, struggling to keep up, she had no idea if they were taking this seriously or if they were all friends of her nephew. But even Ben was unlikely to have arranged a prank on this scale.
Dodging a few boulders, they came to an abrupt halt near the water’s edge.
‘It’s so realistic’ squealed a young woman excitedly.
‘Looks like a scene from one of my books’ said Eleanor.
‘Ooh, are you a crime writer, are you on television?’
‘No, Amazon Kindle.’
A loud clearing of the leader’s throat drew their attention to the others, just as one of the men keeled over backwards. Another pushed past the two women and behind a rock to vomit.
‘Happens every time,’ laughed the leader ‘no one expects it to be a real body.’
Eleanor approached with a writer’s curiosity to see how they had created the scene. It was the smell which hit her first. A real body washed up from the sea was very different from Google research. She almost laughed to herself, Ben had been right, this was a unique opportunity and she tried to quell the rising nausea.
‘Cause of death?’ asked the leader brusquely.
‘No evidence of external injuries, due to the extent of decomposition’ Eleanor replied. ‘A post mortem will be needed to determine if the victim drowned or was already dead before he entered the water.’
‘Good, good’ said the man, as his assistant stepped forward with arms outstretched, bearing a large folded item of black vinyl. ‘Now before we put the body in the bag does anybody have back problems, it’s quite a weight to carry back up the cliff.’
‘Yes, me,’ said Eleanor ‘but shouldn’t we call the police?’
‘Not until we’ve ascertained if a crime has taken place. Now, does everybody have a car, or does anyone want a lift in the van to the morgue?’
‘Where’s the body going?’ asked the young woman.
‘In the van of course. Has everybody got their metal case labelled
Part Two, not to be used by children under sixteen.
‘Which case do you mean?’ a pale man asked.
‘The one containing a scalpel and saw.’
For more dark tales dip into Times and Tides
Twenty five stories starting with a blind date and ending on Xmas Eve, with no clue as to what you might expect in between. In this third collection of short stories are some real places and experiences plus much that could happen or should never happen.
