Category: #InspectorSunday

Inspector Sunday (end)

“Grandad!” The little girl was shouting his name from the far bank of the river. She was waving something at him; her excited voice carried across the water. “Look, Grandad, I’ve got your book… the one you wrote…the one you read me the stories from!” His world was unravelling. Memories came crashing back; real memories, not confusion… not the fog. Sunday stared across the … Read More Inspector Sunday (end)

Inspector Sunday

Inspector Sunday stopped walking when he reached the place by the river. He felt at home, there, but didn’t know what to do next. The sky, which had tried to teach him about the cat, told him a story of intersection. From behind him and to the left came a voice that delighted but shocked him. “Grandad!” ©Stephen Tanham

Inspector Sunday

Inspector Sunday left the house wearing the leather backpack… containing the mysterious cat… Or did it? From somewhere in his fuzzy memory he knew this was a scientific joke… He came to a valley with trees and a sky. The sky tried to explain the geometry of it all to him, but it was too much. They walked on; Sunday, the backpack and, possibly, … Read More Inspector Sunday

Inspector Sunday

Sunday went back into the house. On the settee where he had slept was a new leather backpack. As he gazed at it, suspiciously, the cat appeared, again… …And proceeded to wriggle itself into the bag… Until not even its tail could be seen. “Mow?” said Sunday, confused. ©Stephen Tanham

Inspector Sunday

Inspector Sunday watched as the angel fell to Earth, directly over him, its form becoming a cloud of vapour hissing around him. He turned, seeing tiny, glittering eyes everywhere. “Mow,” said the eyes. “Are you here to help me,” whispered Sunday. “Mow,” said the cat, regrouping. ©Stephen Tanham

Inspector Sunday

The cat’s sudden appearance had startled Sunday. It took him a few moments to adjust; then he realised that the creature had been looking out of the window and not at him. Sunday followed the feline gaze and found that a huge angel had broken loose from a high cloud and was expanding as it fell to Earth… “Mow ” said the cat, suddenly … Read More Inspector Sunday

Inspector Sunday

The Swedish chair looked very comfortable. He sat in it and rocked backwards. The mysterious tiredness swept over him, again. Had be been drugged? He gave in to sleep… When he awoke it was still light, he was hungry, and there was a cat sitting on the footstool, looking at him… ‘Mow,’ said the cat. ©Stephen Tanham

Inspector Sunday

Waking from a deep sleep, Sunday looked up from the leather settee. It was dark; the day had gone. He stood and stretched, glancing across at the Art Deco light he didn’t remember switching on… something on the cabinet was wrong: the tennis racket he didn’t own was too small and labelled ‘Executioner’. Maybe the redhead had been telling the truth, after all? ©Stephen … Read More Inspector Sunday

Inspector Sunday

  Inspector Sunday examined the room in minute detail. His deadly enemy, Adrian Cheng, might be anywhere. But the sinister arch-criminal and master of disguise was nowhere to be see. “Perhaps a coffee would help?” the tocking of the clock seemed to say. Sunday considered the suggestion, and gave in to its subtle persuasion… “I’ll find you,” Sunday muttered, a few minutes later, sipping … Read More Inspector Sunday

Inspector Sunday

Sunday considered the redhead’s parting line and smiled…. One look at the clock told him she was lying. “Marigolds!” he laughed into the morning light. “As if…” ©Stephen Tanham

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