A New Stone Unturned (first page preview)

Chapter One

Their Canadian trip should have been the holiday of a lifetime as the Stone family celebrated Daniel’s promotion to Detective Inspector at the Hillingdon police station. Unfortunately, memories of the holiday had the opposite effect, as on only the fourth day of enjoying the many exploits North Vancouver’s seaside had to offer in 1975, their whole world was thrown into chaos.

  

   Moments earlier on the beach, a relaxed and contented Daniel Stone stood up from his deckchair to take in the wonderful views of the ocean, his loving wife, Angela, and their two children; twins Scott and Jessica. He had to shadow his Casio watch from the sun, squinting to read the digits. ‘It’s gone six o’clock kids, time to go back to the hotel for something to eat,’ Daniel said with a smile. Angela slipped a bookmark into the book she was reading, and once they had gathered their towels and suntan lotion, they walked the short journey to where they were staying.

   Inside the hotel, Daniel looked up and blinked the sweat from his eyes. He saw the ceiling fan rotating at mid-speed and towelled his face dry before sitting down with his family. A nearby waiter handed Daniel a menu. ‘Mr. Stone, sir, would you like the BBC News on today?’ asked the waiter, knowing the preference of the guest over the past few days.

   ‘Yes, thank you,’ Daniel said before ordering and handing back the menu. The waiter walked to the wooden surround television, pressed a button on the side, and the picture and sound emerged onto the screen.

   Daniel Stone enjoyed keeping up-to-date with current affairs back home, and with his new position on the force his interest was keener still. He and Angela turned to the television, and for fun, the children played games of whispering what they thought other diners were saying to each other at other tables.

   The food arrived, and as they began to eat, Daniel divided his attention between family discussion and what the Newsreader was saying. Once the current story had ended, the next grabbed Daniel’s complete attention. ‘Breaking news,’ the Newsreader announced as a picture of a blue bungalow was shown on the screen.

   ‘Can I, Dad? I really want to learn how to dance,’ Jessica said, excitedly. Daniel didn’t hear her. His gaze didn’t move from the television, and his head began to shake involuntarily.

   ‘What’s wrong, honey?’ asked Angela, intrigued. She turned to face the television and instantly recognised the bungalow. The broadcast from West Drayton, continued:

   ‘I’m stood outside the bungalow of Albert and Joyce Stone,’ the man said into a thin metal microphone in a volume to be heard over the police sirens bellowing behind him. ‘The couple were found dead this afternoon. Both had been tied back-to-back and stabbed multiple times in their kitchen. We’re seeking information from anyone who may have seen someone acting unusual, out of the ordinary, in or around the West Drayton area.’

   Angela reached out and held Daniel’s hands tightly, and tears swam down their faces as the story continued, showing a picture a Daniel’s parents.

   ‘That’s Grandma and Granddad,’ both Scott and Jessica said almost in unison. At eleven years of age they were old enough to understand what was happening; sadness took them. Daniel was choked, and his ability to speak seemed so far away; he simply closed his eyes and nodded. The hotel manager came running into the restaurant area.

‘Mr. Stone… Mr. Stone, there’s an urgent telephone call for you.’

The Boy Whose Tooth Fell Out

The boy whose tooth fell out

Sweet smells flowed from the kitchen to the dining room as Mrs Harrison added the finishing touches to the chocolate cake she was making. She put the cake on a tray, and smiled to herself as she picked it up – Mrs Harrison’s cake looked amazing!

   Mr Harrison was sat at the dinner table with their son, Oliver, who was five, and they were both very excited at the thought of eating the cake, and they both had big smiles on their faces when the cake was placed down on the table in front of them.

   Mrs Harrison sat down and handed Oliver a really big slice. ‘You did want a big piece of cake Oliver, didn’t you?’ she asked. She knew that Oliver liked chocolate cake, and was really surprised at how much cake he could eat. Oliver nodded his head, and soon had the cake on his plate. As his Mum and Dad began to talk about grown up things, which he thought was always very boring, he looked at the sweet piece of brown chocolate cake, and within a couple of minutes, he had eaten all of it; it tasted so good he had another slice.

   Oliver knew that one of his teeth was loose, as he had been pushing it backwards and forwards - like a swing - with his tongue for a little while, and just before his bedtime the tooth broke free and fell out. Oliver felt sad because he didn’t want to have a gap where his tooth used to be, but he quickly cheered up after his Mum said something to him: ‘Don’t worry son,’ she said. ‘It will grow back in no time, and you may get a visit from the tooth fairy tonight.’

   When it was seven o’clock, Oliver had to go to bed. He happily put his tooth under his pillow, and then his mum tucked him in so he was comfortable. She kissed him on his forehead before turning the light off and leaving his bedroom. Oliver heard his mum walk down the stairs, and as he looked around the bedroom walls and ceiling, Oliver felt a little bit scared as everything was dark. He was tired, and knew he should just close his eyes, like usual, and go to sleep, but he really wanted to see the tooth fairy. Oliver closed his eyes and pretended to be asleep, and to make sure he didn’t accidentally fall asleep, he started to count to the highest number he could think of. But, less than 30 minutes later Oliver did fall asleep, and if he slept until the morning he would never know if the tooth fairy came to leave some money under his pillow.

   Downstairs, Oliver’s Dad accidentally knocked over a cup of tea, and although he was asleep upstairs, the loud noise from the cup smashing on the kitchen floor made Oliver wake up. Oliver opened his eyes and saw that his bedroom was still very dark, and as he was still very tired, his eyes began to close again. But, before Oliver’s eyes had completely closed, something happened that made him more awake. He saw tiny silver pieces, like glitter, falling from the bottom of his window into his bedroom, and the more Oliver stared, the more the glittery pieces flowed in until all he could see was lots of sparkling silver in front on his eyes.

   As the silver glitter faded away, Oliver saw something with two wings flying close to him, and he had to rub his eyes to make sure he wasn’t seeing things. ‘You’re the tooth fairy,’ he said, smiling at how beautiful the tooth fairy looked all covered in glitter. She wasn’t very big, and not scary at all.

   ‘Yes I am, but… you should be asleep at this time of night,’ she said. Nearly every time the tooth fairy had to visit someone whose tooth had fallen out was in the middle of the night, and they would be asleep. She looked at Oliver and smiled. ‘I think you should try and go back to sleep,’ she suggested. Oliver just kept staring at her, wondering what she would do next.

   ‘I can’t go to sleep now, not when you’re in my bedroom. Do you want my tooth that fell out?’ he asked.

   ‘Yes please, that would be good. I know where it is. All the good children leave them in the same place,’ the tooth fairy said. Then she slipped her hand under Oliver’s pillow and picked up his tooth, put it in her bag, and then she handed Oliver a round shiny coin.

   ‘Thank you very much. I’ll save it up, and I’ll buy something really nice,’ Oliver said, with a big smile on his face - he was so happy!

   ‘You’re welcome,’ she said. ‘But, I really do have to go now, so you should go back to sleep.’ Oliver was too excited, and was wide-awake now thinking about what he could buy with his shiny coin. He thought for a moment, and then asked the tooth fairy where she lived. ‘I live a long way away, high up in the clouds,’ she said.

   ‘Can I see?’ Oliver asked. He had lots of energy now, and wanted to get out of bed to explorer and to play.

   ‘I’ve never been asked that before,’ she said, ‘but, if you promise to be a good boy, always, I’ll show you where I live.’

   ‘I don’t have an aeroplane, so how can I fly up to the clouds?’ Oliver asked, feeling a little bit sad because he thought that maybe he couldn’t get to where the tooth fairy lived.

   ‘It’s easy. All you have to do is hold on to my hand, and then we can use my fairy power to fly both of us,’ she said. Oliver reached out to hold on to the tooth fairies hand, and he found out that they were very small and very soft, and once he was holding on properly, Oliver saw his bedroom window open by itself – it was like magic, and he floated through the window so he was outside.

   Oliver held on tightly as he flew high above the trees and the houses, but he didn’t feel scared at all; he was trying to imagine what the tooth fairies house looked like. ‘We’re nearly there,’ the tooth fairy said, and only a minute later they slowed down and landed on a white cloud that was bigger than anything Oliver had ever seen. He thought he might fall through the cloud when the tooth fairy told him to let go of her hand, but when he realised he could walk on the cloud, he was really happy. ‘OK, here we are,’ she said.

   ‘I can’t see any houses,’ Oliver said, looking all around; he really wanted to see where her house was.

   ‘It’s not the same as the big house you live in,’ she said, smiling. ‘Wait here for a little while and I’ll get a ladder for you.’ Oliver couldn’t believe it when the tooth fairy flew into a large hole in the cloud, and then a ladder appeared for him to climb down into the middle of the cloud.

   Once Oliver had climbed down to the bottom of the ladder, he was quite shocked by what he saw. It wasn’t like his house at all. It was very small, and the walls were made from hundreds, or thousands, of teeth! ‘Are all of these teeth from people like me?’ Oliver asked.

   ‘Yes, I have to put them somewhere, so what tooth fairies do is they build their houses from teeth. I do make sure they’re all very clean,’ she said.

   ‘They do look really clean,’ Oliver said. He’d never seen so many teeth in one place before, and wherever he looked there were shiny white teeth. The tooth fairy thought that maybe Oliver was thirsty, as he had flown all the way from his house up to the clouds.

   ‘Let me get you something to drink. I only have milk though, which is very good for your teeth,’ the tooth fairy said. She poured Oliver a big glass of milk, which tasted really nice, and he drank all of it.

   ‘Are you going to have some milk too?’ Oliver asked.

   ‘Not today,’ she said as she opened a cupboard with more drinks inside. ‘I need some fairy juice so I can get you back home safely.’

   ‘What’s fairy juice?’ Oliver asked, as he’d never heard of it before.

   ‘It’s something all tooth fairies drink because it gives us special magical powers so we can fly to people who leave teeth under their pillows.

   ‘Can I have some? I wish I could fly, just like you,’ Oliver asked. He thought it would be so good if he could fly.

   ‘I’m sorry, but only fairies can drink the fairy juice. If you were to drink some I think you’d be very sick, so it would be better for you to drink milk,’ she said.

   ‘OK, I understand, and I really don’t want to get sick,’ Oliver said.

   Anyway young man, I think it’s about time for you to go back to your own house. I think you need to get some sleep or you’ll be very tired all day tomorrow,’ the tooth fairy said, feeling fully charged from drinking all of her fairy juice. Oliver felt a little bit sad, but he knew his house was much nicer, and there was more things to do at his house. ‘OK, I’m ready,’ he said, and then he turned around and climbed up the ladder to the top of the cloud.

  

   Oliver and the tooth fairy flew back down to the ground, and were soon going through his bedroom window. Oliver felt good when his feet touched his bedroom floor. He did enjoy his trip to the tooth fairies house, but it felt good to be home again. The tooth fairy looked at Oliver, as she wanted to give him some helpful advice: ‘Before I go, just promise me that you’ll always drink plenty of milk, and that you’ll be a good boy and always brush your teeth,’ she said.

   ‘Yes, I will, and thank you for letting me see your house,’ Oliver said.

   ‘You’re very welcome,’ the tooth fairy said before she flew out of his window and back up into the sky.

   After seeing the tooth fairy fly away, Oliver felt tired and went to bed with a smile on his face - he had a good nights sleep with his shiny coin in his pocket.

Intoxifresh 1

Chapter One

Twickenham

London

During his mile long walk to work that morning, an unusually tetchy and nervous George knew he hadn’t studied anywhere near as hard as he should have for his hour-long presentation to the board. Something was desperately wrong with him; something just didn’t sit right in his mind.  Deep down he knew that middle age was looming, waiting for him around a not too distant corner. He pondered for a while as he strolled through Marble Hill Park; the same route he had taken to work since moving to Richmond.

   In an effort to improve his mood, George thought about what he had achieved in his 44 years. He loved his job, and was a senior manager at the firm of Merrick and Smyth. Money was never a problem for him as he always saved a healthy amount each month by not owning a car, and he had recently paid the final mortgage payment on the four bedroom detached house he shared with his wife, Catherine, with whom he was still very much in love. With all this in mind, he looked up at the sky with a smile. He felt its heat as the sun shone morning beams of bright warm colours, filling his soul with positive energy. ‘I can do this,’ he said to himself. He often had little conversations with himself on his way to work. ‘I know everything there is to know about this stuff. I’ll convince them, I’ll persuade them; they’ll be putty in my hands.’

  

   He soon arrived at work relaxed in the knowledge that he just needed to prove to Greg Smyth, Marvin Merrick and the rest of the board what he already knew - it worked. The new medicine that he’d been working on day and night was one of special power; a small orange oval shaped pill. This hangover cure would be a favourite around the world, and the fortune his bosses would make, just from licensing alone, could be worth hundreds of millions, if not more! The tests had been extremely rigorous, and after a few tweaks here and there George had finally got the perfect pill. The human body would still suffer the normal damage, as is usual from alcohol consumption, but once the pill had been broken up, absorbed into the bloodstream and pumped towards the brain, any feeling of dizziness, nausea, headache symptoms or other associated after effects of alcohol consumption would simply drift away, leaving a feeling of complete and utter sobriety. Workers could get pissed at lunchtime and be perfectly productive in the afternoon with no feelings of lethargy or drowsiness; people could drive home safely after an evening at the pub.

  

   Looking out of one of the many large windows situated around his main workplace at the headquarters of the company, George was going over the words in his head. Not being a great public speaker he was thankful that these presentations were rare. He was worrying about the possibility of getting his words completely mixed up when he felt a sudden sharp tap on his shoulder. ‘Yo! G-man, who you talkin’ to, dude?’ Startled, he quickly looked up from his seat at the postman doing his rounds.

   ‘Oh, hello Karim,’ he said to the Jamaican guy while wiping the perspiration from his forehead. ‘Do you have some mail for me?’ Karim gave him an innocent laugh.

   ‘Haha no man, not today, you just looked like you was goin’ mad there for a second or two, that’s all.’ As the postman went on his way, George gazed out of the window once more. He noticed the sun fading slightly as small clouds began to build. He knew he had to get to the conference centre by noon, but as it was only a ten-minute walk, he’d have plenty of time to regain his focus. He breathed deeply and told himself that everything would go perfectly, as planned. Feeling more confident he took a peek at his digital watch which showed the face of a green dragon, appropriately a present from his mother-in-law two birthdays ago…the time was 10:44. He looked around the room and his colleagues seemed fairly busy doing their own research, so with nothing more to do before his presentation he decided to prepare himself in the best possible way. He was going to get drunk!

  

   Walking along the dark and miserable looking hallway laden on both walls with pictures of men and women wearing shiny white jackets and holding trophies of various sizes and colour, he turned to Sandra on reception. ‘Hi… you ok?’ he asked, trying to smile but still feeling very nervous. She was typing away, swaying her head from side to side as she listened to music; she paused the player every time a call came in. ‘Great, well I’ll be away for two or three hours. If you could just take any messages, that’d be cool.’ Sandra simply looked up as though she hadn’t seen him standing there and gave him a quick smile before getting back to her typing. George headed towards the main doors; they squeaked a little as he pushed them open.

   The sky sprinkled light rain, more of a sparse haze than rain but still enough to slowly dampen anyone below. He walked for a couple of minutes towards the conference centre, the temperature had dropped and the cold wind was gusting from all directions. He shuddered as he felt a chill run through him. He looked up and straight away noticed the Red Lion public house that seemed to shout out with a magnetic force towards his eardrums. ‘Ah… I’ll just have a few, it’ll do me the world of good,’ he told himself hoping it would help to calm his nerves as well as serve its purpose. This was the same boozer where he’d been drinking while experimenting on the pills ability to respond in a positive way. He knew the Red Lion attracted the ever-growing amount of London drunks – spending their ill-gotten gains to feed their own habit.

   George entered the thick wooden-lined building and was instantly hit with a putrid stale smell of warm beer. Chairs were still stacked on top of one another on tables making the only positions available at the bar. George stood there for the duration of his stay with the buildings resident Alsatian sleeping under a nearby table.

   After fumbling around to see what coinage he had in his pocket he looked at the loose change in his hand and realised he only had enough, well nearly enough, for one drink, and he needed several for the experiment to work properly. ‘Bollocks,’ he angrily whispered to himself as the nearly pretty barmaid made her way over.

   ‘Morning sexy,’ she said, while chewing her gum and flicking at one of her overly large earrings. ‘The usual today is it?’ He didn’t want to appear to be on the same level as her main clientele; he was worried that the taste for alcohol was becoming rather addictive lately.

   ‘You know what?’ he let out a light-hearted chuckle, ‘I foolishly only came out with change this morning; I honestly have only £2.13 on me. I’m so sorry.’ He felt even worse after that little speech, but the drug of alcohol was something he’d been accustomed to for the past few months while his experiments continued. She poured his usual double whisky. ‘No coke in it today, thanks.’ She smiled as he waited patiently. He wanted to drink neat alcohol, to make sure his amazing display would work and be a huge success; perhaps he’d even see a promotion?  Linda walked back towards him with the whiskey; he noticed her large blue eyes surrounded by layers of make up in several colours as she handed him his drink.

   ‘George, it’s ok… I know you well enough to know you’re good for it.’ She gave him a saucy smile and handed him his drink. He tried to pay what he had but she refused. ‘Listen Mr T, I’ll just make a note of what you order and you can come back to settle your bill when you have time.’ Linda was a nice looking girl, in a way, but much too young for George to have any interest, and on top of that her sense of fashion was awful. His thirst for the beverage was apparent as he reached out for the glass.

   ‘Thanks Linda, I’ll settle up with you soon,’ he blurted out quicker than usual, eager for the taste he craved. He knew all along that it was wrong, that it was slowly destroying him along with the rest of the clientele who frequented the ancient building. He looked around the bar at the other drinkers; they all seemed far more carefree than he was. ‘Lazy bastards,’ he bitterly whispered under his breath as he took another gulp of his whiskey. Why was it that he had so much to do? So much to worry about and yet, these people… these strangers could relax and sit there all day long if they pleased, so long as their benefit money stretched far enough to keep them in drinks each and every day of their lives. He knew they were doomed, and that they were too far-gone to make any kind of change. ‘Another whisky please Linda,’ he demanded with a feigned smile in her direction. He felt slightly more relaxed but still anxious about the immanent speech he’d have to give in front of the old cronies on the board. He drank several more glasses of neat whisky and held a nearly empty glass in his hand. As the last few drops of the liquid swam down George’s throat he, very out of character, slammed the thick patterned circular glass on the solid oak bar with a loud knock. ‘Linda… Linda come on, another drink?’ Lifting up his wrist, he looked at the green dragon and was hit by the realisation that it wasn’t his mother-in-law staring back at him after all. He shook his head to try and force some kind of reality back into his vision, but it didn’t make any difference, the sudden shock of the current time being a little past 12 o’clock made him turn around to leave before giving Linda a quick glance. ‘I’ll be in later to…’ the floorboards suddenly came into view as he tiredly tried to refocus, he managed to look up and finish his sentence, ‘I’ll drop the… later on, the money in later on.’ She hurriedly dusted the bar as his glazed eyes left hers.

   A whole new set of feelings were instantly thrown at him as he opened the double doors to be welcomed by swirling gusts of drizzle as the wind kicked up green and yellow leaves that seemed to attach themselves like little post-it notes to his clothing as he headed towards the conference centre. George’s rate of blinking had increased and he had to continually remind himself of where he was and what he was doing. He still held onto his expensive briefcase as tightly as he could; he knew that what was inside would prove his work over the past year and a half had been worth all the effort. All the testing, all the changes, all the drunkenness and the quick zap back to reality as the sobriety sensation took place time and time again.

   The fresh clean air outside had helped him a little, and part of him wanted to take an orange pill right there and then, but he knew he needed to be in a drunken state in front of the ageing board members to prove the amazing effects of his invention.

   Stumbling along and squinting at signs to focus, George eventually found the steps of the conference centre. Hugging his briefcase to his chest while re-working out, like a child, how to walk up the concrete shapes, he soon found the handle and forcefully swung the doors open. He’d been to the building a few times before, mainly for lectures, and knew where to go, but first he’d have to sign in.     Precariously arriving at the main desk he saw three members of staff eyeing his every move. ‘Are you ok, sir?’ one of the middle-aged ladies asked. He noticed her quick sympathetic look towards one of her colleagues.

   ‘I’m here… I’m George Thorn…’ he managed to hold on to the far edge of the desk to keep standing. One of the ladies had a look of complete disappointment as she shook her head.

   ‘He’s obviously a drunk; we really need to escort him from the building.’ They all seemed to agree, and two of them started to walk around from behind the desk. He slammed his fist with a loud hard thump on its shiny surface.

   ‘I’m here to see them… the board members. I have to do a speech about my …’ after checking the days schedule a shocked woman looked up.

   ‘Are you George Thornley?’ He managed to nod his confirmation. ‘I think we better get you some water, and quickly, you’re late.’ George was speedily shown to a seat and handed a pint of water.

   ‘I could fix… fix this myself if I wanted to,’ he said between large gulps of the water. He was made to wait a few minutes while one of the front desk staff signed him in and called to let the waiting board members know of their main attraction’s slight delay. George finished the entire pint of water and nodded off for a few seconds before he was woken and handed another pint of water.

   ‘I don’t know if you should see them in this state.’ The lady seemed very concerned for him. ‘Greg and Marvin, and the others, have a very professional reputation, George. You don’t want to go in there and mess everything up now do you?’ George took a sip of his second pint of water.

   ‘This is huge…I need to be drunk to… to prove that it works,’ he smiled, ‘I’m not usually like this of course.’ He glanced down at his green mother-in-law and saw that it was 12:26. ‘I have to get in there right now, they’re waiting for me.’

Intoxifresh 2

Chapter Two

Merrick & Smyth Pharmaceuticals

Conference Centre

With his briefcase in one hand and his water in the other, George was helped by two of the receptionists towards the most important presentation of his life. They stopped outside the door and held it open for him. He thanked them and smiled to himself as he heard one of them wish him luck as they left. He knew that luck wasn’t needed, that everything was set in stone, and all the high profile board members were going to be seriously impressed beyond anything they’d ever witnessed before.

  

   The atmosphere flowing around the boardroom was one of trepidation. As George eyed each of the old men, he noticed a few had their eyebrows raised in apparent despair at his late arrival. He walked around them, their eyes following his staggered movements, his glass of water swaying slightly in his hand as he neared the only empty seat. He could sense the increasing anticipation from them as he began to sit down, but he knew that what he was about to show them would remove all concern, and that any doubt would soon turn into amazement after his revelation.

   A few drops of water splashed on to the large oval-shaped table as he misjudged the angle at which the glass of water should have been placed down on its surface. With briefcase still in hand he looked up with glazed eyes and was about to get the ball rolling when Mr Merrick, the senior partner of the firm, stood up from his seat and leaned across, both fists angrily clenched supporting his weight. ‘You’re drunk!’ George looked around at the other seven or eight old men. He wasn’t in a great position to count with much accuracy, but they were all mumbling and grunting and were shaking their heads. ‘What’s the meaning of this?’ He thumped the table with one of his aged and veiny hands. ‘You turn up late and you sit there drunk out of your God damn mind…Well?’ George could see the anger growing as redness mounted in the old mans features. He took another sip of his water.

   ‘Yes I’m drunk, I’m drunk out of my mind, but…’ Mr Merrick thumped the table again as a few of the other old men began to stand up, disappointed and angry that they had wasted their time attending. The mumbling and grunting continued. George stood up and put his briefcase on the table, almost knocking it into his glass of water. “Don’t go! Please, I know how this looks…’ After a few seconds they patiently waited to hear what he had to say. ‘I know this must look bad… I know, but I had to go and get drunk to prove to you that my new invention works.’ He surprised himself that he was able to finish the sentence without slurring his words too much. He looked up from the old and wrinkled hand in front of him. ‘Please sit down, Marvin; I’ll be completely sober in just a couple of minutes.’ Mr Merrick contemplated for a few seconds, angry at being addressed by his first name, and then sat back down in his luxury leather seat. The only one standing now was George. He took a few more gulps of his water and proceeded with the presentation. ‘I apologise for being late, but it was necessary for me to consume a large amount of alcohol to show you the new orange instant sobering pill I’ve perfected. I lost track of time, I’m so sorry.’ Greg and Marvin gave each other a look, and as the room fell to a silence, they gestured for George to continue. ‘I had planned to explain everything about the new orange pill before ingesting one to prove its effectiveness, but I… I think I’d explain everything much better if I took one right now.’ He took another gulp of his water and placed his hands at either side of the leather briefcase ready to click the locks open. George knew that this was his moment, his time to shine. He had done a hell of a lot of hard work to get this far, and deep down he couldn’t wait to see the reaction to his new wonder drug. ‘Gentlemen, I give you IntoxiFresh.’ He looked around the table and all eyes were poised as they awaited the revelation of the wonder drug. The sounds of the two locks clicking open were highly audible as George’s hands hesitated to lift the lid of the briefcase; he wanted to add a little suspense. Everyone’s eyes were wide open as he fully opened the case and pushed his hand inside to grab the bag of small orange pills.

   There were gasps from all around as his hand hit the lining; he looked down in immediate shock and saw an empty briefcase. Mr Merrick stamped his old fist again. ‘What’s the meaning of this?’ George was instantly filled with panic; he had no idea what had gone wrong but he knew all too well that he’d blown it. He felt sick and frantically searched around inside the case again.

   ‘They should be in here.’ He knew they were in his briefcase back at work because he had placed them in there himself, right before making his usual mid-morning cup of tea. Mr Merrick stood up and began to put on his long dark trench coat before he faced George again. With the sound of pouring rain repetitively attacking the windowpane, George realised he desperately needed the toilet. The old man pointed his finger in George’s direction.

   ‘You mean to tell us that you kept everybody waiting here for half an hour, you arrived in a drunken state… god damn drunk to your own presentation, and all you came prepared with is an empty briefcase?’ Nerves got the better of George; he didn’t want to look, but he could feel what he was doing. ‘And now you’re pissing yourself too, in front of all these board members.’ George wanted to close his eyes and wake up from the horrible dream he was having. He gave it a try, but when he opened his eyes he was still in the same boardroom. All the mumbling came back and everyone got up to leave; he knew it was all over.

   ‘That’s it, go back home, back to the old people’s home,’ he said sarcastically. Mr Merrick gave George a look of absolute disgust before asking Mr Smyth to deal with the situation. With nothing other than despair in his eyes, a confused George plonked himself down in his seat stinking of alcohol and urine. He felt terrible as he realised he was sitting in a small pool of his own waste. Greg Smyth was sat opposite and looked very displeased.

   ‘So tell me, was there ever any orange pill? Or are you going through some kind of a mid life crisis?’ George suddenly started to laugh at the absurdity of the situation.

   ‘Yes, of course the pills are real. I put over two dozen of them in my briefcase at work this morning, in preparation for this,’ he said while trying to act as sober as he could. ‘I can get some more and do the presentation again if…’ His sentence was cut short as his immediate boss began to stand up.

   ‘I’m sorry George, I really am, but you’ve made a fool of yourself today.’ George tried in earnest to defend his actions, but didn’t succeed. ‘You’ve upset the majority shareholders and also Mr Merrick himself from your frightful display. I’m afraid you no longer work for us. We have to be able to rely on our staff to do the job to the best of their abilities, and you come here drunk and put on a show like that? I’ll send something more formal in writing, but I think you should go home now, go home and sleep it off.’ The old man pushed down on his walking stick to heave himself up from his chair, and continually shook his head as he walked out of the room. George was left feeling troubled, his trousers soaked and a hoard of questions running through his mind. He’d worked so hard for this, so why did it go so terribly wrong? Why was his briefcase empty? Why did someone steel the orange pills? And more importantly, who? He went back down towards the reception area and scribbled some kind of small pattern in the sign out box, refusing to even look at any of the three receptionists sat at the front desk.

   As he pushed open the doors to the outside world, the bursts of wind knocked him back to reality. He had no idea what to do with himself; his life, as he knew it, had hit a massive brick wall. He sat down on the concrete steps and noticed a charity shop not far away. The smell of urine was still apparent with every intake of breath, he just couldn’t get away from it; he needed some clean trousers. Still feeling very drunk he opened the door to the charity shop and walked around until he found the clothing section. He didn’t care to see who else was in the shop. He stripped off his own stained trousers and tried on another pair that had a £2 price tag attached, and were a perfect fit. He knew the right thing to do was to dispose of his own trousers himself, so he held on to them as he went to the cashier. ‘Just the trousers please,’ he said while playfully displaying what he was currently wearing. The old lady behind the counter simply gave him a blank stare.

   ‘That’ll be two pounds please.’ He reached into the pocket of the trousers he was holding and threw the change on the counter. ‘You can have the extra 13p for the ever so polite customer service.’ He didn’t intend to be so sarcastic, he was just extremely angry at so many things at that moment in time.

   On the pavement outside he saw a litterbin and removed his wallet, house keys and small packet of chewing gum from his old trousers before throwing them in. As he swayed along the pavement he found an ATM machine and withdrew some money, knowing that he still owed the Red Lion pub which was just a few doors away, and which seemed to be calling out to him.

   The chairs had been taken off the tables and were neatly placed on the floor by the time he walked inside. ‘Back for more punishment, George?’ Linda smiled while fiddling with an earring and showing the slight gaps in her teeth surrounded by her smudged lipstick.

   ‘Hi Linda, just the one for me please. How much do I owe you?’ She grabbed a calculator to work things out. As he glanced around he noticed the same people from earlier. ‘They may as well live here and sleep under the tables,’ he muttered to himself. Quickly noticing his whisky already in front of him he looked up.

   ‘No, I didn’t say sleep under a table, I said that’s £47.90 in total please, George. What are you like?’ She giggled to herself as he handed her the money. George had three more drinks after that one and stood up to check his balance, which was fairly awful. His mother-in-law dragon watch told him that the time was around half past two, and he left the pub in an attempt to go home.

   The damp wind surged past him as he stepped outside. All he really wanted to do was to curl up in his cosy warm bed with Catherine, but that was almost a mile away. He did his best to feel complacent as he stumbled down the road. He hadn’t given any real details of the orange pill to the board and only he knew the ingredients; the invention was still his, and he knew he had to file the patent for the global rights.

   He turned a corner and the wind almost pushed him into a brick wall with a flurry of autumn leaves hurling themselves from every direction. He noticed the dark metal railings above the brick wall in a long line pointing towards his house; he tried to focus as he stumbled along.

Intoxifresh 3

Chapter Three

Richmond upon Thames
London

2:51 pm

His vision had perilously blurred. The dark metal railings above the brick wall went in and out of focus with each footstep. Light drizzle trickled down from above. He squinted and pushed his hands deeper into his pockets in an attempt to keep dry. George swaggered along the pavement in his depressed state, heading slower than usual towards his suburban home. The violent and screaming wind bellowed beneath the darkened grey sky above sending swirling leaves into his path as he thought about what had just happened. Angrily, he kicked at them while picturing his boss … his ex-boss now.

      He heard a distant noise from behind and within seconds a car had roared past him, sending a splatter of puddled water and a gust of wind in his direction. ‘Oh for fuck’s sake,’ he said to himself letting out a loud sigh. He continued his drunken steps forward, dreading having to tell his wife what had happened, and why he was wearing different trousers to the ones he’d left the house in that morning. 

   As he neared home, he felt both nervous and worried. It was almost three in the afternoon and George was very clocklike in his routine, never arriving back home until after six in the evening. Catherine would either be out shopping, or she would be busy preparing whatever delights she had in store for him that evening.

   Eventually he arrived at his front door where the green paint was peeling slightly around the frame. He fished around for his keys. ‘Hey George, you ok? You’re back early today.’ He reluctantly turned around and saw a friend of his, smoking as always, who lived just a few doors down on the same road. His sense of urgency to find his keys quickly grew; he didn’t want anyone to see him in his intoxicated state. His fingers found the metal objects in his pocket and he quickly made an attempt to push them into the lock but missed twice, chipping away more green paint. Once the key had slid inside the lock he waved to his friend Tom, but didn’t look at him.

   ‘Hi, Tom… I’ll talk later, in a bit of a hurry.’ He just wanted to get inside, away from his friend who’d recently taken early retirement, and into the warmth and comfort of his own house, but he was still full of dread just thinking of the inevitable discussion he’d soon be having with his wife. As he pushed the door open, he was greeted by weird noises coming from upstairs. He quietly closed the door behind him and listened more closely, doing his best to focus on what was going on. Holding tightly onto the banister with both hands, he began to clamber upwards while looking at his feet to avoid stubbing his toes on each step. The sounds were getting louder as he neared the bedroom door. George reached for the door handle but had to quickly rethink his actions. The sounds coming from inside were unmistakable, full of high energy, raw passion and exciting lust. Realising his wife was only a few feet away having sex with someone else sent his mind spinning. He gingerly stepped down each stair until he was back near the front door.

   George Thornley would usually have burst into the bedroom to confront the situation head on; being a little above average height and well built he could take care of himself. The problem was that at this moment in time the 44 year old was drunk. He was amazed he had the ability to stand up given the amount of alcohol he’d consumed before and after his meeting with Greg.

   His anger grew in intensity as the noises continued; on and on they went. With gritted teeth he clenched his fist wanting to punch the chair nearby. Deep down he knew he was about as much use as an inflatable dartboard. He didn’t know what to do. With his hands pressed tightly to his ears he walked into his kitchen and filled a pint glass with water. As he was glugging the refreshing drink, one of the first things he saw was the set of stainless steel knives sitting close to the small wooden tree of ceramic cups. ‘I could stab the bastard,’ he muttered under his breath after he’d stopped drinking. He focused hard while steadily reaching out to take one of the larger knives. An echoing voice inside his head was telling him that the consequences would be too much, that he couldn’t spend years in jail for knifing to death another human being (even though that human being was currently upstairs screwing his wife). He reluctantly withdrew his reach and shook his head while plonking himself down at the kitchen table. As he put his almost-empty pint glass down on the wooden surface, he noticed two wine glasses right in front of him, both almost full of white wine. One of the glasses had a lipstick mark at the brim, which gave George an idea.

  

   George Thornley was an expert - a genius - when it came to medicine and pharmaceutical drugs. Starting out as a trainee at Merrick & Smyth almost 28 years earlier, he had learned valuable lessons in the process and the creation of various medicines. His vast knowledge about the effects of each drug was apparent in his creativity, and his former colleagues always held him in very high regard.

   Picking up his glass of water and leaving a tiny trail of the liquid on the floor, he eagerly went to the dresser drawer where he kept his pills and liquids, mainly for work purposes. The noises from upstairs were getting louder, and he realised his own breathing was quickening as he panicked, sensing that at any time now they’d be finished. He continued rummaging around, trying to focus as best as he could. He found one of his orange pills he’d been looking for at the meeting earlier and swallowed it with the remainder of the water. He continued to focus on the small labels. Within seconds he’d found a dark glass bottle of Chloral Hydrate. He quietly shut the drawer and headed back to the kitchen, doing his best to undo the lid of the bottle along the way. A smug grin had fixed itself to George’s face as he poured the liquid into the unmarked glass. He knew the knock out drops would quickly take effect, rendering the consumer completely immobile for between 30 minutes and an hour. He replaced the lid on the bottle and noticed something had changed. He turned his head and became aware of the quiet surrounding him. Trying not to make any noise, he crept back into the front room and sat down behind the sofa, his back pressed against it’s back as he gradually started to sober from the water and the pill. All he could do now… was listen.  

   The floorboards creaked under the weight of Catherine and her man friend as the pair calmly walked down the stairs. George was seething as he listened to his wife of almost 20 years laughing along with the other man. Rage was building in his eyes as he wondered just how long this had been going on behind his back. Weeks? Months? Years, even? He was feeling much more focused now and he knew he’d soon be back to his normal self, but until then he’d remain hidden behind the sofa; hidden and waiting. More laughter and the clink of glasses sounded throughout the house from the kitchen; the fornicating couple were about to receive their surprise! ‘Seriously that was just marvellous Catherine, the best ever.’ The voice from the kitchen sounded extremely familiar to George and his wife’s response confirmed his suspicions without any doubt.

   ‘Thanks, but you know Jake, you really should be making a move soon; I need to start the dinner before ‘you know who’ comes home,’ she said with a raised eyebrow and an alluring smile. With the shock of what he was hearing he felt suddenly heavier, weighed down into the floor. He was frozen until he heard more laughter from the pair, and in an instant his senses all came flooding back to him. Sounds of giggling and kissing radiated around the house like a horrid stench. George was about to stand up, unable to wait any longer when,

   ‘I think you’re right honey, It’s been fun as usual but I should be on my…’  

   ‘Jake… Jake what’s…’ This was the moment George had been waiting for. The loud thud of a man collapsing, the sound of shattering glass and the awful screams of his adulterous wife were all the signals he needed to stand up and race to the kitchen to confront the deceitful Catherine.

Intoxifresh 4

Chapter Four

Richmond upon Thames

London

3:36 pm

Catherine was screaming like never before as she stared down at her lover. He wasn’t hurt, but she didn’t know that. Enveloped by the sound of her own excruciating noise echoing off every surface in the kitchen, she was startled as someone touched her shoulder. She rapidly turned around and screamed again as she saw George standing there; she’d never seen him look so angry in all their years together. ‘Honey, what are…’ She was quickly interrupted.

   ‘What am I doing home from work so early? Forget that, what’s Jake doing here?’ She could sense he knew something, but had no idea how long he’d been home; perhaps he’d only just got home? She looked at the large black and white squares on the kitchen floor for an answer before making eye contact once more.           

   ‘How long have you been…?’ George slammed the nearly empty pint glass on the wooden table, making everything else on it jump up slightly. A loud crackle surged from outside as lightning began to strike around them, the sound of heavy rain thrashing ever louder against the kitchen window.

   ‘I heard everything, Catherine…how could you? After everything we’ve been through together,’ he said as his nostrils reminded him that he seriously needed a change of underwear. Catherine seemed hysterical:

   ‘I think he’s dead.’ She was screaming and crying, her hands pressed into her cheeks as she shook her head in despair. George held onto her shoulders to try and calm her down.

   ‘Catherine… just listen to me, he’s going to be fine in a little while. Just answer me… why?’ She looked at him as her eyes tightened in a stare of serious disapproval.

   ‘You did something to him didn’t you… what did you do?’ He shook her shoulders a little to regain her attention.

   ‘Just answer the fucking question!’ Catherine knelt down beside Jake and tried to revive him, he was limp and lifeless to her touch.

   ‘Please… Jake… Jake! Wake up!’

   At this point George had had enough; he knew it was all over between them. He turned around and started to walk towards the stairs so he could at least put some clean underwear on. He almost made it to the hallway before a ceramic cup smashed against a wall narrowly missing his head. He quickly ducked out of the way as it shattered into tiny fragments that fell to the floor. He glanced back towards the kitchen and quickly had to move his right shoulder and twist to his left to avoid another flying cup that almost hit a window. Full of anger and with a new level of hatred towards the woman he loved until only a few moments ago, he ran upstairs. Closing and locking the bedroom door behind him he quickly changed his clothing and grabbed a backpack and began filling it with everything he could find that was important to him. He noticed the thunderous weather was intensifying with each second as he strapped the bag to his back.

   Unlocking the door, he half expected to see Catherine standing there with a knife ready to stab him to death, but all he could hear over the deep bellowing sounds and sharp electrical discharges from outside were sounds of someone sobbing not too far away. He emptied the downstairs drawer full of various medicines, including his new inventions, into the backpack and, as he walked back into the kitchen, he could see that Jake was still out cold. He knew it wouldn’t be long before his victim would come around but he didn’t get a chance to say anything. ‘You bastard! What did you do to him?’ Catherine started to grab anything within her reach, regardless of what it was, and threw everything her husband’s way as the storm outside continued to surge. George tried to grab hold of her, to stop her from wrecking everything, but she was quick to swing a frying pan in his direction, missing his face by millimetres. He heard a knock at the front door. He ignored it. Managing to pull the frying pan away from Catherine’s hand the knock sounded again with louder, more urgent thuds. As George turned away to walk to the door, he didn’t notice Catherine removing a full bottle of whiskey from the cupboard. Jake was gradually coming to his senses on the kitchen floor as she threw the bottle as hard as she could, missing her target by quite a way, but the whiskey bottle shattered above the window scattering glass and a flood of alcohol all over the window and half closed curtains that hung downward at either side. That sent George’s building adrenalin into overdrive. He turned around and threw the frying pan back into the kitchen, which missed Catherine and bounced off a wall before hitting Jake on the side of the face, knocking him out cold once more. On the brink of wanting to smash something himself, and before he completely lost control, he quickly grabbed the doorknob and opened it to see Tom standing there under an umbrella. ‘Yes!!’ Tom could see that his friend wasn’t his normal self.

   ‘Sorry George, I just heard noises and thought I’d best pop over to see if everything was alright.’

   In a move that could go down as one of the dumbest in history, Tom, cigarette in mouth, poked his head inside to see for himself, but as he did a slight gust of wind from outside sent a few bright orange fiery strands towards the alcohol-saturated curtains. Before anyone could move, the curtains were engulfed in flames that rapidly spread to every alcohol-fuelled area. At that moment George gave up, as he was quick to realise the household insurance had recently expired. He’d been too preoccupied with the development of his new pills to renew the cover. He sensed defeat and felt like he was on his way to going completely mad.

   ‘Well do come in Tom, it’s nice and warm inside… well, it is now.’ George held the door open as more light wind helped the flames to build and spread.

   ‘I’ll call the fire brigade,’ Tom said, still with cigarette in mouth.

   ‘No, no don’t worry about that.’ A wave of insanity swept over him as George pulled his friend inside. ‘I’m sure we can sort it out, you may want to go and collect your brother from the kitchen though, he’s on the floor.’ With the flames growing ever higher and the bottom particles of the curtains dripping smaller flames onto the carpet below, the three of them stood in the kitchen just staring at each other. As George slumped himself down at the table, Tom asked what his brother was doing there and why he was lying unconscious on the floor with a red mark on the side of his head. George had no idea about the red mark, but looked up at his friend. ‘Good question; I think you’d better ask Catherine as she has all the answers.’ They both moved their heads to look directly at Catherine, but just as she was about to say something they all heard a murmur coming from the floor. Jake was scratching the side of his head where the red mark was; all eyes were quickly upon him.

   ‘Oh Christ, what the hell happened?’ Jake asked while staring at the ceiling.

   On the outside of the burning building passers by could see the flames and the front window blackening. By this time the fire brigade had been alerted and a small crowd had now gathered on the opposite side of the road, clutching their umbrellas and chatting with one another as they took in the spectacle.

   The flames had now reached the stairs and were forcefully wrapping themselves around the wooden banisters. Tom went to help his brother stand up as George was left wondering what the hell had happened in the last few hours. His whole life had changed in ways he had never thought possible. Catherine didn’t know what to say now that Jake’s brother was on the scene, and Jake wasn’t going to be much use either in his delirious state. George held open the back door that connected the kitchen to the garden. ‘Its beginning to get a little smoky in here don’t you think? Lets all go and sit down under the gazebo, it’ll be comfortable and dry under there.’ He was getting slightly wet but was also overwhelmed with a feeling of insanity.

   Surrounded by absolute chaos, they all sat down under the gazebo. Tom was the only one who had no idea what was going on as George, Catherine and Jake commenced with even more arguing, but it wasn’t long before he understood. He stared at his brother with a look of fury. ‘How the hell could you do that Jake? George is a very good friend of mine… of ours!’ Jake was still rubbing his head as Catherine was about to say something, but just then an upstairs window violently burst with a loud explosion, sending small fragments of glass over the garden. They all heard the loud siren and had to raise their voices to be heard. A blue light intermittently lit up parts of the gazebo and most of the wall next to them. There was a sound of lightning striking not too far away as Catherine blurted out the truth.

   ‘I’m sorry,’ she said looking at her husband, ‘it hasn’t been going on for long, only a couple of months, that’s all.’ George was seriously annoyed at this moment in time, and after the day he’d had, he didn’t know what to believe anymore. Jake then spoke up.

   ‘Oh come on Catherine, we may as well be honest here.’ He looked at George and Tom before staring at Catherine directly. ‘We love each other; we have done for a long time now.’

   Just then the gate swung open as a tall fireman ran over to them and told them they had to move to the front of the house, that it was far too dangerous to be so close to the building. Only Tom had an umbrella, but the rest of them didn’t care about getting soaked; the neighbours had offered shelter, but they all had more important things on their minds.

George, Catherine, Tom and Jake joined the ever-growing crowd and were helpless as they watched the house suffer complete destruction from the force of the fire. If they had only phoned the fire brigade themselves it may have been a different story… but a few hours later, as they stood there with the harsh rain still pouring down from the clouds and the charred remains of the house expelling grey smoke upwards, a teary eyed Catherine turned to George. ‘What happens now?’ she sobbed, ‘I don’t have anything left.’ Still staring deeply at the pieces of broken window frames, fallen broken bricks and burnt out interior, George calmly said:

   ‘You can have the house’.

Intoxifresh 5

Chapter Five

Merrick & Smyth Pharmaceuticals

HQ

A slightly dampened trench coat was placed on the hook outside the office of Marvin Merrick as the old man’s assistant opened the office door for him. The senior partner of the firm was severely disgruntled as he slowly lowered himself into his antique Chesterfield leather office chair. He was full of disappointment at the firm’s earlier meeting at the conference centre, with his former employee’s embarrassing presentation, but also from the possibility that Mr Thornley had actually developed some kind of very profitable wonder pill.

   Before his office door was fully closed he heard his assistant ask something. ‘Is there anything else I can do for you Mr Merrick, Sir?’ He closed his eyes and almost fell asleep as he shook his head at Simon, but propping himself up again he refocused on the question.

   ‘Just pass me a couple of those pills over there,’ he demanded weakly pointing to a small bottle. Simon obliged and placed the tablets that would make Mr Merrick feel more alert onto his huge desk along with a glass of water. The door was closed and Mr Sampson strolled back towards the laboratory.

   Simon enjoyed his job, but was on a downward spiral. He’d been working for the company, as Mr Merrick’s personal assistant, for just under a year. He started work at the firm the day after he’d turned 30 and he had big plans. As he got closer to his desk he could sense that there was far more talking than usual. From the few sentences he couldn’t help but overhear, it seemed that George was the current topic of conversation. The shock of a senior manager getting the sack for being completely intoxicated at his own presentation was something George’s work colleagues found hard to believe. It was suggested that it may just be a vicious rumour, but as he was absent from work it was something they’d eventually have to accept as fact.

   Simon waited until he had privacy before making the call. He didn’t want to talk above normal volume but with the force of the charging rain non-stop against the windows he had no choice. He did his best to keep the conversation as quiet as possible between himself and Mr Santorini. ‘Yes… it’s done. All taken care of… I understand, I’ll await the transfer, Sir, and then I’ll get them secured and shipped for you.’ As the call ended he quickly put the phone down as a colleague walked towards him but then turned in another direction. The sky outside was a dark grey, showing no signs of brightening, and lightning was beginning to strike as it got close to the end of the working day for most of the staff in the building. Simon felt content as he’d almost finished his end of the deal and was looking forward to doing something else with his life once everything had been completed. He straightened the few papers on his desk and opened his top drawer to double check the couple of dozen small oval orange pills neatly wrapped up in a transparent package. He smiled to himself with a mischievous grin as he pushed the drawer back into the desk with a heavy thud, and locked it.

   During his short drive home from work, with the windscreen wipers continuing their work at full speed, Simon felt a tinge of sadness for what he’d done that day; but deep down knew that his reward would far outweigh the career of one man. He noticed a noise of greater volume coming from somewhere and a fire engine sped past in the opposite direction, he had no idea where it was heading and he didn’t care. He parked his black BMW in its usual space outside his plush London apartment, and while climbing the stairs to his floor he had only one thing on his mind; he wanted to check his bank balance.