“I have a case for you. Drop whatever else you’re doing.”
Detective Chief Superintendent Foible looked at the man. “And who are you, exactly?”
Midday Matinee is our people watching, people doing and people being feature. Join the Woodland Creatures for an afternoon break.
Welcome back to Tuesday’s Tale, a weekly feature where we collaborate to write a story. Previous Tuesday’s Tales include Squatchentine’s Day and Ya-a-a-a-awn. We follow the basic rules of the “Yes, And” improvisational game – accept everything written so far as part of the story, and add your own paragraph (or so) where the last addition left off – except you needn’t begin your addition with “Yes, and.” I’ll start the story….
Note: Today’s tale is an homage to the brilliant British mystery series Foyle’s War.
The blue-uniformed, gold-braided man huffed. “I’m Assistant Commissioner Dis Weeks.”
“Right. We do go through a lot of you,” Foible said.
“Because you’re so consistently insubordinate!” Weeks shouted.
Foible gave his trademark half-head-tip-half-shrug. “And that’s because you lot are so consistently incompetent or corrupt.”
Alex Stewart and Paul Habdasher walked in.
“Is anything wrong, sir?” Habdasher asked.
“Meet the new assistant commissioner,” Foible said, “Dis Weeks. This is Detective Sergeant Habdasher, and my driver, Miss Stewart.”
“You’re … a woman!” Weeks said to Stewart.
Alex looked at Foible. “Another one?”
“It seems so,” Foible said. “So what case is so vital to the national interest in the midst of World War II that I need to drop our other investigations, commissioner?”
“It has come to my attention,” Weeks said, “from the very highest levels, mind you, that Hastings’ fuel and electricity demand is far above the regional allocation.”
Foible offered his other trademark, a half-eye-roll-half-smile. “Might that have anything to do with the fact that we’re filming a television mystery series, sir?”
“Speaking of which,” Habdasher said, “we’ve found another body, sir. A young woman was shot and left on the barbed wire down by the beach.”
“Clean up that barbed wire at once!” Weeks bellowed. “The Jerries might come any moment now.”
Photo Credit: FoylesWar.com