Jackson Is Missing

by Wendy Gill

  Charlie listened at the door until he heard Jackson say, “Where exactly is your mother? You are sitting in the middle of the shack with your back to the door. Is she behind you?”

  Charlie took the hint, whoever was in that room at that moment in time had his back to the door and Jackson had the man’s attention.

  Charlie took hold of the latch and slowly lifted it up. Inching the door slightly open he could see the shape of a man’s back sitting at a table so he thrust the door wide open and flung himself on the unsuspecting back and the two men fell to the floor.

  Henry was winded, and Charlie banged his shoulder hard on the floor as they landed but Henry was not about to give in. His rage instantly rose not only against his attacker but against the man who had pretended to be his friend.

  All Henry could think of was to get free from the strong pair of arms that held him down. He tried to push his arms out to slacken the hold that held him fast, but that did not work, the hold did not slacken.

  Charlie tried to think of his next move, if he slackened his hold, his captive could make a run for it, so he said, “I would appreciate a hand here Jackson.”

  “You and me both, I am trussed up like a dead chicken, one of my arms and a leg has gone numb and my head hurts and you need a hand, typical, self-first every time,” Jackson said.

  Freddie, who had been left speechless, finally came to his senses.

  “Hit his left hand, I saw he had a dirty bandage on it and he was tending not to use it.”

  Charlie did not recognise the voice, but he took his advice. He made a grab for his captive’s left hand and all fight went out of his opponent.

  The culprit gave a roar of agony and started to cry.

  Charlie took out the handcuffs he had brought with him and cuffed Henry’s, hands behind his back.

  “Tie his legs as well, Charlie,” Jackson said, “he is not fully stable, mentally that is, and as such he is dangerous, and he could run off. But be careful with him, he is a sick young man, he is going to need a lot of help.”

  Charlie did as his friend bid. Once Henry was tied to the table he went over and opened the shutters on both windows on either side of the shack to provide more light for them to see by.

  This action failed in providing more light for it was dark in the wood, but at least they could see a little better than before.

  Taking long strides, Charlie knelt beside Jackson and began undoing the ropes. Once Jackson was free he bent over the second young man and proceeded to release him too.

  Jackson rubbing his sore wrists and trying to stand up said, “You took your time in getting here.”

  “You forget, I am not a policeman anymore,” Charlie countered.

  “Yes, you are not a policeman any more, just like I am not a doctor but who the hell listens.”

  “You have a policeman living next door to you, why didn’t you go to him for help?” Charlie wanted to know.

  “Yon PC Keyser is no policeman. All he does is walk around making notes in that damned occurrence book.”

  Looking over at his friend he said, “I hate to admit it Jackson, but I have missed working with you.”

  Jackson looked back at him, “Sod off.”

  This afforded Charlie much pleasure and undoing the last knot of the shocked young man that had been tied to his friend he grinned at him, “It’s alright, he is from Mars.”

  Charlie held out his hand to the speechless young man, “Charlie Blurr.”

  The young man held out his hand and they shook hands, “Freddie Atton.”

  “Well Freddie Atton, shall we go back to The Retreat and let them all know you are safe? They have been worried about you.” Charlie told the young man.

  “Good idea, but can I have a moment to let the circulation get flowing again, like your friend over there, we have been laid on our side all night and there isn’t much feeling in my arm and leg.”

  “Do either of you have any ideas about what this is all about?” Charlie asked no one in particular.

  “I haven’t a clue,” Jackson replied, “But I know I have a bad headache.”

  "Your captive’s name is Lord Henry Mooreway, he comes from a town called Bossett which is roughly three days’ drive south of here. Henry told us he has killed his mother and he followed Marcy here. He blames her for all his downfalls and he is out to make her pay.

  “I don’t know how true all this is so don’t take my word for it. I am only telling you what he told us, but I do know he intended to kill your friend and me and put us in the same grave as Marcy. He must have gone off his head because he was never like this when I knew him back in Bossett,” Freddie informed them.

  “So, you knew him from Bossett, did you?” asked Charlie.

  “Although he is not what you would call a friend, he is a member of The Foxes Club in Bossett that Isaac and I frequent. I have travelled up here with Marcy who runs The Retreat with her aunt. It looks like Henry followed us all up here and he is out to get her.”

  “Oh yes, I have met her, and her aunt,” Charlie told him.

  “Are they all alright at The Retreat? Are Marcy and her aunt safe?” asked Freddie.

  “Yes, they are all fine, but Marcy’s face looks a bit like yours and Jackson’s, she has suffered cuts and bruises, but she is alright.”

  "Thank goodness for that at least. I had been fixing the door of the stable block for Aunt Sylvia and when I had finished I went into the house to see if Marcy had returned from Marchum. But the house was empty, so I ran up the stairs to see if I could find anyone in.

  “I went past Lillian’s bedroom and the door was slightly open. I found your friend here, lying on top of her, so I went to drag him off because I thought he was up to no good. Then someone hit me over the head and I went out like a light.”

  “You thought I was up to no good, did you? Let me tell you I am pregnant, and I do not go around getting up to no good with other women, even if I am a devilishly handsome fellow,” said an irate Jackson.

  “How was I to know? How can you be pregnant?”

  “My Blanche is having my baby,” he told Freddie.

  “Never mind that, carry on with your story,” Charlie told him.

  "When I became aware of my surroundings, I was being dragged down the stairs, I was being bounced against every step on the way down, and I passed out again. I didn’t regain consciousness until I found myself tied to your friend, Jackson.

  “The feeling has returned to my leg and arm now so if you don’t mind me saying so, I think we should set off back to The Retreat, there could be carnage there.”

  “Could be carnage, have you seen your face? If my face looks like yours then I don’t want to see it. I cannot stand the sight of blood,” Jackson moaned.

  Freddie looked at the comical, middle-aged man with unruly hair matted in blood and remembered his conversation with Henry. It had disturbed him at the time and it disturbed him now.

  “What do you know about this man?” Freddie asked Charlie.

  “Which man?” Charlie wanted to know.

  “This man you call your friend, the one I was tied to,” Freddie replied.

  “He was kicked off Mars and landed on his head on a rubbish dump in Marchum,” Charlie replied.

  Freddie digested this and asked, “Where is Mars?”

  Charlie pointed skywards.

  “You mean the planet Mars?” asked a shocked Freddie.

  “The very same,” confirmed Charlie.

  Freddie could think of nothing to reply to this, he thought he had come to live in a lunatic asylum, so he continued, “I think you should take him in for questioning as well. He has got some very funny ideas. He wanted to go into partnership with Henry, join up as a team and prey on unsuspecting women. It is not normal.”

  Charlie looked over at Jackson, and their eyes met, well one of Jackson’s eyes met Charlie’s, his other eye was swollen and closed but Charlie didn’t miss the mischievous glint in the one good eye that met his.
r />   “No one, even Jackson, has ever said he was normal.”

  “My Blanche does,” objected Jackson.

  “With the exception of Blanche, oh, and his father-in-law, he has a fondness for him too.”

  “Sod off Charlie,” Jackson told him.

  Charlie laughed. “Everything will be alright at The Retreat. All was well when I left them this morning so if Henry has been here, then nothing untoward will have gone off at The Retreat. But let’s get this poor Lord Henry what’s-his-name untied and make our way back there and let them all know you are both alright.”

  On arrival at The Retreat they found not only the wagon belonging to The Retreat, but a large, well sprung coach tethered up alongside it.

  “This is Isaac’s coach. They must have arrived sometime this morning. They are friends of mine from Bossett.”

  Charlie indicated to Henry to get into the wagon and he complied with the order. For the moment there was no more fight left in Henry and Charlie jumped up beside him, taking up the reins he said to Jackson, “Tell Aunt Sylvia I am borrowing the wagon and I will be back to pick you all up once Henry has been delivered to the police station. I will not be long; I do not want to distress Marcy and Lillian any more than is necessary, best not to let them see their attacker again.” Charlie headed back down the drive.

  Isaac tapped on the first bedroom door he came to and when he got no reply, he gingerly opened the door.

  Once the door was opened, three women standing at the bottom of the bed all huddled together began to scream like banshees. Then one of them dashed forward and punched him in the stomach sending him staggering back onto the landing.

  As if some sign had been sent to the other two women, they both threw themselves screaming at Isaac too.

  Finding himself in a restricted place on the landing and three screaming women punching him, Isaac found it difficult to disengage himself from them. He had never hit a woman in his life and he did not intend to do so now. He began by trying to grab hold of one of them, but the others had other ideas, Isaac was losing the battle.

  Charlotte and Miss Tubby had frozen on the spot at the sound of the screams from above. They were then scared witless by the door behind them opening. They turned to see, to their relief, Marcy standing next to an elderly lady with white hair, a lovely young girl standing next to a heavily pregnant woman and a portly, jolly faced man of indefinable years.

  “Marcy, whatever has happened to your face?” asked a shocked Charlotte.

  “What is going on up there?” Marcy wanted to know ignoring Charlotte’s question.

  “We don’t know, Isaac went upstairs to see if anybody was around and all hell broke loose as you can hear,” they were informed.

  “Oh dear,” the lady with white hair said.

  To Charlotte’s surprise, the old lady moved at great speed up the wooden staircase and disappeared round the same corner that Isaac had disappeared round.

  Almost instantly the screaming stopped, and Isaac appeared at the top of the stairs being supported by two very well endowed young women, one on either side of him. He did not look in the best of health.

  Footsteps were heard behind the little group of people standing in the hallway and they turned to see two very dishevelled and battered gentlemen walking towards them.

  “Jackson, oh my Jackson, what have you been up to now?” Blanche strode across to him and pulled him into a firm embrace and he gratefully rested his aching head on her bosom. It was the nicest, softest pillow he could have wished for. Her bulging belly was pushed into his and Jackson feeling the bulge of his baby pressing into him, the comforting arms of his wife around him and the best pillow in the world for his head to rest on, was in heaven.

  Freddie saw Marcy and the state of her face. He rushed over to her and took her hands in his, “Did Henry do this to you?”

  “He did, but this time I fought back, and I broke his little finger and he could not keep hold of me, so I managed to get away, again,” Marcy told him.

  “He also had a gash at the side of his face. Did you do that as well?” Freddie wanted to know.

  “Yes, I walloped him with my basket. I was frightened Freddie. He was the last person I expected to see up here in Scotland,” Marcy clung onto his hands.

  “You have no need to be frightened of him any more Marcy. Henry has murdered his mother, and someone called Charlie has carted him off to jail. I don’t think you will ever see Henry again,” Freddie informed her.

  “Did Henry do that to your face as well?” Marcy asked looking up at Freddie’s cut lip and bright red eye.

  “He did, so now I know how you feel. When the people back in Bossett learn of this I think you will find all the gossiping will stop about you leaving Henry waiting at the church, their loyalties will have changed sides,” he told her.

  Isaac, at the top of the stairs was feeling like a punch bag but when he saw the state of his friends face he said, “It would seem your party was hell of a lot better than mine, Freddie.”

  Freddie tried to smile but found it too painful, “Welcome to Bedlam Isaac old boy, nice to see you.”

  Jackson, still with his eyes closed and wrapped in this wife’s arms said, “Clarence, the first thing you have to do when you get back home is knock that blasted porch down.”

  The old gentleman demanded, “What? Why should I knock my porch down?”

  “Then no more stray dogs can make their way in there for Ella to find. I am getting too old for all this,” was the reply.

  “I think it would be best if we all went into the sitting room and sat down. I shall go and make some tea for us all then we can get this chaos sorted out,” Aunt Sylvia said then added, “and I think these two gentlemen, sorry three gentlemen could do with their wounds attending to.”

  “I’m alright, thanks,” Jackson told her.

  Aunt Sylvia could not help laughing and the tension disappeared.

  Charlotte waited at the bottom of the stairs for Isaac to descend and took charge of him. He was pleased to be out of the care of two of the women that had rendered him helpless and to feel the arms of his bride around him.

  The same two women offered to make the tea and went off to the kitchen and the rest followed Aunt Sylvia across the hall and into the sitting room.

  Miss Tubby was happily tending to the wounded and fussing about from one to the other and Charlotte was informing them all of Henry’s crime back in Bossett.

  Isaac had apologies from the three women who explained to him that Aunt Sylvia had told them all to stay together in one of the bedrooms in case Lillian’s attacker returned and if he did, to strike first and ask questions later. So, when they saw this strange man standing in their bedroom doorway that is what they did.

  Ella came forward and said, “Well, this has been an interesting experience.”

  Jackson opened his one eye and looked across at her. “Yes, a very interesting experience. We never had these experiences before you landed on our doorstep, just look what the experience has done to my face.”

  Clarence piped up, “It could have been worse Jackson, and you could have ended up like Henry’s mother, dead. Anyway, I think it has improved your face, it has given it more character.”

  “Go to the devil Clarence. It is your damned porch that sets Ella off, and it is not your face that has been rattled down a staircase.” Jackson’s head was still resting on his best pillow in the world while he sat beside his wife on the old tatty sofa. His eyes were closed. All the same he was happy to know his friends were around him keeping him safe.

  “Why don’t we introduce ourselves? We do not know any of you and we are greatly in your debt. Marcy, you seem to know everyone. Why don’t you do the honours?” her aunt said.

  After the introductions were over Isaac informed them, “Charlotte and I were going to carry on and see some of the beautiful sights that Scotland has to offer after we had dropped Miss Tubby off, and then join Freddie for the journey home. But considering the circ
umstances, I think we will head home and come back when I feel more the thing.”

  Marcy glanced over at Freddie, and her heart sank. She had tried her best to think of him as just a friend, but she had failed miserably. She had got used to having him around, he had grown on her. She did not want him to leave.

  Freddie looked over at Marcy and found her looking at him and his decision was made, “I am going to sell my house in Bossett and come and live here if that is alright with you, Aunt Sylvia. There is still a lot that needs to be done here, both inside and outside of the house, besides, after this, life would seem very dull back in Bossett. Nothing like this has ever happened to me before.”

  “You may stay here with pleasure young man, I have got used to you being around,” Aunt Sylvia replied.

  “Well, I for one can do without this sort of thing, I don’t mind dull. It does not make your ribs and face hurt,” Isaac responded.

  “You don’t know the half of it Isaac. You came off lightly, you only had three women on top of you, me, I was tied up to a deranged Martian,” Freddie told him.

  “Did your deranged Martian scream?” Isaac wanted to know.

  “Not that I was aware of.”

  “Then give me a deranged Martian anytime. Have you ever innocently opened a door and had three screaming women chasing you? It was terrifying. There ought to be a law against it.”

  Freddie tried to stop himself from laughing but he did not quite succeed, “And you a newly married man as well,” he joked.

  “It has its compensations,” Jackson said still content in the arms of his loved one.

  “If I get my hands on whoever did this to my Jackson, he will be walking around minus his unmentionables,” said Blanche with feeling.

  “That’s my girl,” said a proud Jackson.

  Charlie pulled up outside the police station and took Henry inside. “Hello sergeant, look what I have brought you.”

  “Well met Charlie, we have missed you. Who have we here?”

  “He goes by the name of Lord Henry Mooreway, so I am told. He is from Bossett, we don’t know for sure why he is in Marchum but Marchum is bearing the signs that he has been our way,” Charlie told him.