Truemay
12-09-2013, 04:53 PM
Ronnie Buchanan wrapped the scarf tightly around his neck and turned up the collar of his thick winter jacket. The snow was falling heavily now, not that it seemed to bother Sam much. The Border Collie was in his element, he loved the colder weather. Buchanan watched as he went tearing off under a snow covered holly bush in search of the squirrel that had just flashed across the path in front of them.
Stepping into the woods, Buchanan took shelter under a huge pine tree, unzipped his jacket and took out a battered looking silver hip flask, a flask he had filled that very morning from the Bottle of Glenfiddich he'd been given as a Christmas present. He had unwrapped it a day early, not that it mattered, he'd known exactly what it was. He got the same gift every year from Joe Styles the local pathologist. He also gave exactly the same gift back. A strange arrangement really. He'd asked Joe once "Why do we not just buy our own?"
"Because it's part of the spirit of Christmas Ronnie, we would lose the joy of giving."
Well this was one Christmas spirit he was certainly enjoying he thought to himself as he took a large gulp.
As he relished the warm glow of the whisky Sam gave out a strange howl.
"What have you found Boy?"
Sam started growling, and huddled down with his tail between his legs, and then, out of the woods hobbled an emaciated old man wearing an oversized cap and holding a walking stick. He was carrying a small cardboard box under his left arm.
"Good day to you sir, he doesn't bite does he?"
"I've never seen him act like that to be honest. Sam, come here you daft dog."
Sam slunk back to Buchanan's side and lay on the ground.
"What are you doing out here on your own anyway? Don't take this the wrong way but you don't exactly look fit enough to be wandering about out here in this weather."
"I'm on an errand, so to speak."
"An errand you say?”
"Yes, my dear wife passed away about a week ago, she had a great fondness for this place. Her last wish was for me to scatter her ashes up here but I'm having trouble finding the exact place."
"The exact place?"
“I'm looking for a tree, a rather special tree. Jean always liked it but we moved down south a few years ago and I haven’t been here in a while so I've kind of lost my bearings a bit”
"What kind of tree?" asked Buchanan as he handed the whisky flask over.
"Here, this'll warm you up a bit."
The old man took a large swig before answering.
"Thanks. I'm not a tree expert Mr....?
"Buchanan. Just call me Ronnie."
The old man stretched out his hand.
"Nice to meet you Ronnie, I'm Frank Wilder, call me Frank. Now as I said, I'm no tree expert but this tree shouldn't be too difficult to spot. It has our initials carved in it. I put them there myself many, many years ago. I vaguely remember this Holly bush so it must be around here somewhere."
Buchanan had a quick look around.
"Tell you what Frank, since it's nearing Christmas and you happen to have found me in a particularly festive mood this morning, you can sit over there on that tree stump, it's nice and sheltered, help yourself to the whisky and I'll go have a look for your tree."
"That's very kind of you."
"Don't mention it."
Buchanan whistled....."Come on Sam."
*
"What the **** have we got ourselves involved in now Sam?" asked Buchanan as he closely examined his tenth tree of the day.
Sam jerked his head from side to side as if in answer.
"**** it let's get back before the old guy freezes to death."
Buchanan turned around but Sam didn't The dog bounded off in the opposite direction barking as he went.
"What’s up now Sam?"
The dog stopped suddenly and frantically started digging at the foot of a large oak tree.
As Buchanan approached he could clearly see the four letters carved into the bark.
"You've found it Sam good boy, now sit there till I get back."
When he got back Frank was singing away to himself as he peered into the Empty whisky flask.
"Did you enjoy that old yin?"
"Very much so, cheers."
"Follow me then, I've found your tree."
"Lead on Detective."
Buchanan cast a wary glance.
"I never told you I was in the force!"
The old man laughed. "You must have, how else would I have known?"
Buchanan shook his head.
Something wasn't right here.
When they arrived at the oak tree Sam once more took his place at Buchanan's side. They watched as the old man unpacked an elaborately decorated urn from the small box. He took of his cap and looked at Buchanan.
"Do you mind Ronnie, I'd like five minutes on my own to say a final goodbye."
"No, not at all, you go ahead, I'll meet you back at the path when you’re finished."
Ten minutes later there was still no sign of Frank so Buchanan for the third time that morning set off for the carved oak tree.
There was no sign of the old man, no evidence that he'd ever been there in fact. The only footprints in either direction belonged to Sam and himself.
"What the ****'s going on here Sam?"
The dog once more shook his head from side to side.
"You don't know either eh?"
Buchanan had a last look around and gave out a sigh.
“Bugger it! Let’s go to the pub.”
*
As Buchanan approached the forecourt of the small country pub he was surprised to see his colleague Sargent Maxwell.
Max, as he was known to most people, was standing next to an ambulance talking to a young female paramedic.
"Max! What the hell are you doing here?"
"Morning sir, you enjoying your day off?" he replied.
Sam ran up and licked Max's hand.
"There's a dead guy in the loo, he had a heart attack, the paramedics worked on him for over an hour. They thought they'd managed to stabilise him at one point, he looked like he might pull through for a while. In fact, he came back round for a couple of minutes but he was delirious, kept muttering away to himself, something about getting to the woods?"
Buchanan stared at Max.
Was he a really old looking guy, wearing a cap and carrying a walking stick?"
"Perfect description sir, you turned Psychic?"
"Did he have a package on him, a small box?"
"You’re freaking me out now sir! He told the barman it contained........."
"His wife's ashes" interrupted Buchanan. "What would you say Max if I told you I'd just helped that old guy find the place he was looking for and watched him scatter his wife’s ashes no more than twenty minutes ago?"
"I'd say you either had one too many or, you’re in touch with the spirit world now sir" laughed Max.
"Maybe I am Max" said Buchanan. He nodded towards the ambulance. "Frank certainly had his fair share of spirits, more than his fair share actually, the old bugger practically drunk my whole flask of whisky."
Max laughed.
"You're off duty now Max aren't you?"
"Yes sir."
"You fancy a pint?"
"Sure."
"You go on ahead then, get me a Guinness. I have to have a look at the body."
As Max walked to the pub entrance Buchanan drew back the sheet, and there he was.
Frank. He had a huge smile on his face.
"Merry Christmas Frank, wherever you are. Give my regards to Jean!"
Copyright Steve Christie- Courtesy Ringwood Publishing.
Check Out More Of Buchanan In My New Novel Good Deed At These Links!
Signed First Edition Copies Available from Ringwood Publishing.
on Paberback And Ebook From Amazon & Amazon UK
And All Good UK Book Shops.
Stepping into the woods, Buchanan took shelter under a huge pine tree, unzipped his jacket and took out a battered looking silver hip flask, a flask he had filled that very morning from the Bottle of Glenfiddich he'd been given as a Christmas present. He had unwrapped it a day early, not that it mattered, he'd known exactly what it was. He got the same gift every year from Joe Styles the local pathologist. He also gave exactly the same gift back. A strange arrangement really. He'd asked Joe once "Why do we not just buy our own?"
"Because it's part of the spirit of Christmas Ronnie, we would lose the joy of giving."
Well this was one Christmas spirit he was certainly enjoying he thought to himself as he took a large gulp.
As he relished the warm glow of the whisky Sam gave out a strange howl.
"What have you found Boy?"
Sam started growling, and huddled down with his tail between his legs, and then, out of the woods hobbled an emaciated old man wearing an oversized cap and holding a walking stick. He was carrying a small cardboard box under his left arm.
"Good day to you sir, he doesn't bite does he?"
"I've never seen him act like that to be honest. Sam, come here you daft dog."
Sam slunk back to Buchanan's side and lay on the ground.
"What are you doing out here on your own anyway? Don't take this the wrong way but you don't exactly look fit enough to be wandering about out here in this weather."
"I'm on an errand, so to speak."
"An errand you say?”
"Yes, my dear wife passed away about a week ago, she had a great fondness for this place. Her last wish was for me to scatter her ashes up here but I'm having trouble finding the exact place."
"The exact place?"
“I'm looking for a tree, a rather special tree. Jean always liked it but we moved down south a few years ago and I haven’t been here in a while so I've kind of lost my bearings a bit”
"What kind of tree?" asked Buchanan as he handed the whisky flask over.
"Here, this'll warm you up a bit."
The old man took a large swig before answering.
"Thanks. I'm not a tree expert Mr....?
"Buchanan. Just call me Ronnie."
The old man stretched out his hand.
"Nice to meet you Ronnie, I'm Frank Wilder, call me Frank. Now as I said, I'm no tree expert but this tree shouldn't be too difficult to spot. It has our initials carved in it. I put them there myself many, many years ago. I vaguely remember this Holly bush so it must be around here somewhere."
Buchanan had a quick look around.
"Tell you what Frank, since it's nearing Christmas and you happen to have found me in a particularly festive mood this morning, you can sit over there on that tree stump, it's nice and sheltered, help yourself to the whisky and I'll go have a look for your tree."
"That's very kind of you."
"Don't mention it."
Buchanan whistled....."Come on Sam."
*
"What the **** have we got ourselves involved in now Sam?" asked Buchanan as he closely examined his tenth tree of the day.
Sam jerked his head from side to side as if in answer.
"**** it let's get back before the old guy freezes to death."
Buchanan turned around but Sam didn't The dog bounded off in the opposite direction barking as he went.
"What’s up now Sam?"
The dog stopped suddenly and frantically started digging at the foot of a large oak tree.
As Buchanan approached he could clearly see the four letters carved into the bark.
"You've found it Sam good boy, now sit there till I get back."
When he got back Frank was singing away to himself as he peered into the Empty whisky flask.
"Did you enjoy that old yin?"
"Very much so, cheers."
"Follow me then, I've found your tree."
"Lead on Detective."
Buchanan cast a wary glance.
"I never told you I was in the force!"
The old man laughed. "You must have, how else would I have known?"
Buchanan shook his head.
Something wasn't right here.
When they arrived at the oak tree Sam once more took his place at Buchanan's side. They watched as the old man unpacked an elaborately decorated urn from the small box. He took of his cap and looked at Buchanan.
"Do you mind Ronnie, I'd like five minutes on my own to say a final goodbye."
"No, not at all, you go ahead, I'll meet you back at the path when you’re finished."
Ten minutes later there was still no sign of Frank so Buchanan for the third time that morning set off for the carved oak tree.
There was no sign of the old man, no evidence that he'd ever been there in fact. The only footprints in either direction belonged to Sam and himself.
"What the ****'s going on here Sam?"
The dog once more shook his head from side to side.
"You don't know either eh?"
Buchanan had a last look around and gave out a sigh.
“Bugger it! Let’s go to the pub.”
*
As Buchanan approached the forecourt of the small country pub he was surprised to see his colleague Sargent Maxwell.
Max, as he was known to most people, was standing next to an ambulance talking to a young female paramedic.
"Max! What the hell are you doing here?"
"Morning sir, you enjoying your day off?" he replied.
Sam ran up and licked Max's hand.
"There's a dead guy in the loo, he had a heart attack, the paramedics worked on him for over an hour. They thought they'd managed to stabilise him at one point, he looked like he might pull through for a while. In fact, he came back round for a couple of minutes but he was delirious, kept muttering away to himself, something about getting to the woods?"
Buchanan stared at Max.
Was he a really old looking guy, wearing a cap and carrying a walking stick?"
"Perfect description sir, you turned Psychic?"
"Did he have a package on him, a small box?"
"You’re freaking me out now sir! He told the barman it contained........."
"His wife's ashes" interrupted Buchanan. "What would you say Max if I told you I'd just helped that old guy find the place he was looking for and watched him scatter his wife’s ashes no more than twenty minutes ago?"
"I'd say you either had one too many or, you’re in touch with the spirit world now sir" laughed Max.
"Maybe I am Max" said Buchanan. He nodded towards the ambulance. "Frank certainly had his fair share of spirits, more than his fair share actually, the old bugger practically drunk my whole flask of whisky."
Max laughed.
"You're off duty now Max aren't you?"
"Yes sir."
"You fancy a pint?"
"Sure."
"You go on ahead then, get me a Guinness. I have to have a look at the body."
As Max walked to the pub entrance Buchanan drew back the sheet, and there he was.
Frank. He had a huge smile on his face.
"Merry Christmas Frank, wherever you are. Give my regards to Jean!"
Copyright Steve Christie- Courtesy Ringwood Publishing.
Check Out More Of Buchanan In My New Novel Good Deed At These Links!
Signed First Edition Copies Available from Ringwood Publishing.
on Paberback And Ebook From Amazon & Amazon UK
And All Good UK Book Shops.