The Mystery Of Markellos Tower. Chapter 4.

For Chapter One See:http://mikeselleylyicsplus.blogspot.gr/2013/07/the-mystery-of-markellos-tower.html

For Chapter Two Seehttp://mikeselleylyicsplus.blogspot.gr/2013/07/the-mystery-of-markellos-tower-chapter.html


For Chapter Three see:http://mikeselleylyicsplus.blogspot.gr/2013/07/the-mystery-of-markellos-tower-chapter_20.html


After the pleasures of Bluebell Wood, the next day, early Monday morning , Richard was sitting alone in his shop. He owned the place which specialized in unusual subjects, such as the Occult, Magic, grey, black and white, UFO's, Alien Abduction, Infinite Universes, Time Travel,  Demonology, Angelogy, Crop circles, Telepathy, Astral travel, Ghosts, Fairies, and not forgetting good old Zen,   and similar sorts of, what some people call, tin hat stuff.

The shop was in the High Street in a delightful old- fashioned, looking village in Surrey, that was called Dunstwood. It was one of those places that was perfectly English.

There was a tea rooms, a church, an old pub, and even a village green where cricket was played every Saturday afternoon in the Summer, and a Church Fete once a year.

Take away the cars, buses, vans and lorries and you could almost be back in Thomas Hardy's England.

It was surrounded by beautiful countryside where the rolling green  fields seemed to stretch on forever.So green were the pastures that they dazzled the eyes.

The shop hardly made much money from the local customers as they seemed more interested in local gossip than the possibility of a UFO landing in one of those green fields or possibly a mysterious crop circle. It was much more interesting for the locals to discuss whether Mrs Greenwood had a drink problem, or whether John Dunn's son had a crush on that awful slut, Mrs Cawber's ( a single mother's ) daughter, Sheila. who got drunk ( and stoned ? ) every Friday night, and what they did , when they wandered off into old Giles field at every chance.
This was  most amusing, because he knew that the very people who said such things, had done exactly the same things when they were young.

Richard though, was not worried about local customers, as he had a site on the Internet which managed to keep up a steady cash flow., as sales of 'weird ' books, as he liked to call them had a ' niche' audience.

He also placed adverts in magazines which produced a good response.

 In fact, while at the shop, most of his working day was spent on the computer managing such affairs.

It was seldom a customer would call. When they did he would give them his full attention. Sometimes he would make a killing on a  sale, but it was rare that this would happen. His philosophy was, as you never knew who would throw their cash at you, treat them all with great respect, just in case they might be loaded.

A lot of the few customers he had were young people who had an interest in Black Magic or UFO's, Alien Abduction or such like .There were also a handful of men and women in their sixties, who , he had guessed  had once been Hippies in the Sixties. they would spend ages reading bits from books, as if they were in a Public Library. They would then, after about an hour, walk out, smile and say, "Thank you ".

Well, thank you too, Richard would think, but never say, and smile back at them.

Such problems didn't worry Richard as he wasn't really in the business to make a mint. He considered himself lucky, if not blessed in many ways.

A year ago he had been another faceless nobody commuting to London every day, sitting in a boring office near Victoria Station. He had sat with eight other people whose sole job had been to sell people Insurance. The job and the people had been boring. He remembered that from about noon on Sunday , he used to get this sinking feeling in his stomach at the thought of the dreaded Monday morning. That mad dash for the 7.48!

It seemed insane to him now.

He had been beyond devastated when his father, at the young age of 56 had suddenly, without any warning, dropped down dead after having a cup of tea .His father had spent all his life working in London as an Accountant and had been fairly well-off. The trouble was though he had thrown his whole life into his job.
It had killed him.

Richard suspected that after his Mother had died so young in a plane crash on a trip to Malta on business  ( she had been a travel agent )  his father had been so gutted that he buried himself in his work. He had never shown any interest in other women, and had never married again.

The end result was that when he died, Richard, who had been an only child, was left his father's house, and quite a large sum of money.

He had promptly sold the house ( yes, he had sold it cheap, but he hadn't been thinking straight ). He couldn't have lived there as there were too many happy memories.

Somehow he felt that he would soil those memories by him just being alone there. He couldn't imagine living there without his father, who he had loved very much, or their ever faithful  Spaniel Sammy, who had, strangely enough, died a few weeks after his father's death. That  had also caused Richard great sorrow. It seemed one heartache after another.

Memories of his mother were even worse as he had only  been 12 when she died. He remembered a happy, carefree, loving , giving, almost too good to be true mum. He remembered that when he heard the awful news , he thought that someone had stabbed him deep into his heart.

With the money from the sale of the house he had purchased the shop. It

 had a flat above it which was quite large and perfect for his needs.

He hadn't really touched the money his father had left him, and as this was quite a lot, he was not that worried if his business venture failed.

He had been determined not to waste his life, as he believed hid father had, but to live a lifestyle he would like, and at the age of 28 he had achieved this.

He had quit the Insurance job and taken the plunge.

He had always had a daydream of owning a shop like this and he was very pleased he had been bold and brave enough to follow his dreams.

Richard was in a reflective mood thinking about his  Father, Mother, Sammy and now Angela.

He remembered the first time he had met her two weeks ago. She had come into the shop; such a sexy., beautiful face; such a perfect body  wearing a knee-length black skirt with   black high heel shoes, and a short black jacket with silver buttons , and a blue shirt.

He had simply stared at her in lust.

Her first words, which seemed engraved in his memory were:

:" Hello. I'm looking for a book called,  33.3."

Richard pushed back a strand of black hair that had fallen onto his eye.

He looked at he in amazement. She was something else.

He felt such a strong physical attraction that his stomach seemed to be riding on a Helter Skelter in a fair ride.

He couldn't think straight. Well, he couldn't think at all. Biology had won the day.

For a moment he was speechless.At last, he blurted out." Erm, who wrote that ?"

She smiled. What a smile ! Was this the smile of smiles or not ?

" That's the problem you see, I don't know who wrote it, but I do know who published it ."

Richard tried to get himself together. He had never felt like this before.

" Ah well, that's something, "

He couldn't take his eyes off her.

Trying with all his might to sound normal he said," Tell me, who was that ? "

Once again that killer smile. It was if she knew what agonies she was  putting him through, and was getting a kick out of it.

" The Elaycul Society ".She said it in a whisper, as if it was a secret.

Thinking back Richard suddenly knew that there was something very strange about Angela; something very strange indeed.