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Murder most Horrid

Posted by fatbanjo on Friday, January 16, 2009

Geraldine's lifeless body was found in the the parlour amongst several scores of Vaughn Williams parlour tunes for banjo. A single faint fingerprint was found on rear of the peghead which inexstricably linked Craig Dobson to the crime.

29 comments on “Murder most Horrid”

banjotef Says:
Friday, January 16, 2009 @7:09:37 AM

       As Dobson paused to admire the hair-shaving edge he was able to hone onto his prize set of Ashley Iles chisels,  forged in Sheffield,   he thought back to that moonlit night with Geraldine as they strolled along the Thames....

fatbanjo Says:
Friday, January 16, 2009 @7:52:57 AM

The glint of the city light's rebounding of the black abyss of the river was reminiscent of how the light channeled itself along the perfect grove in Dobsons no. 5 v tool sitting solemnly on the bench. " Craig, hold me like you never done before" Geraldine uttered I want this moment to last forever"....

joemac Says:
Friday, January 16, 2009 @11:57:33 AM

Little did she realise just how short "forever" was going to be, "kiss me darling" she said, her heart pounding like a thousand railroad trains in anticipation of what the night would bring, her eyes focused only on him. She had never known love like this, it was so different to the fumblings of the village lads,  Craig turned to return her advance but his eyes said only one thing...

banjotef Says:
Friday, January 16, 2009 @12:09:02 PM

"Geraldine....would you like to have my #5 Veining chisel with the full sweep angle?'   She could only give one reply...

joemac Says:
Friday, January 16, 2009 @1:32:27 PM

" OH DARLING, how my ears have waited to hear you say that ", she never dreamed that she would be getting sweep angle after such a short romance, at that very moment a shooting star swept across the sky in all its firey glory, swooning with emotion and expectation she closed her eyes to accept the full angle, "He's mine" she whispered to herself, she felt the breeze across her heaving body.......

banjotef Says:
Friday, January 16, 2009 @4:17:10 PM

WHEW!!!

fatbanjo Says:
Sunday, January 18, 2009 @2:26:38 AM

Dobson surveyed the point of entry as his butterfly kisses brushed her white skin. "not long now my precious" he thought to himself. 3.13am seemed like the perfect time to make the ultimate sacrifice and offer up this virgin soul to his demon withheld within....

joemac Says:
Monday, January 19, 2009 @3:59:33 AM

Off in the distance a lonesome whine from a train whistle brought Dobson to his senses, "No", he thought, "Not here ,   i need to get her back to my workshop, iv'e left the tenon saw there".She felt the sudden tension in his grip,  "Whats wrong my darling" , the words fell from her lips, but now instead of being lovingly said, they were full of trembling and fear...................

fatbanjo Says:
Tuesday, January 20, 2009 @1:37:25 AM

"Geraldine my angel, we must return to the flat at once" " But why Craig Why? Geraldine responded. " I should have told you sweetheart I'm diabetic and I've left my medication on the sideboard" Geraldine still feeling the taunt grip of Dobson's right hand began to relax with the thought of "his blood sugar is low and thats why Craig is acting strangely...oh my poor love".......

joemac Says:
Tuesday, January 20, 2009 @7:11:37 AM

She was right, blood was his problem, but not his own blood, it was his incurable desire for the blood of others that made his grin to himself as they boarded the number 17 trolley bus. He could'nt stop himself, ever since as a child he had experimented with the family cat, mother never got over the strange dissapearence of her beloved tiddles, he watched her cry for weeks, alone, at night, and then he would go out into the garden and laugh at the dull, pale yellow winter moon.  Animals fulfilled his desire for some years, and then one day as a young man he noticed a girl across the seat on the 8:15 as he went to work, nervously she smiled, something stirred, some terrible thing that overtook his every nerve, he never played his beloved goodtime for days, he was far too busy with his spade at the bottom of the garden...........................

fatbanjo Says:
Tuesday, January 20, 2009 @8:00:16 AM

The terror that that morning saw was no illusion dreamed up by Bram Stoker and it would be 10 years after the demolition of the pre-fab houses on Romney road before the dis-membered skeleton of Ursala Waighnwright was to be discovered. Needless to say that dental records were to be her only link with a passing world....

joemac Says:
Wednesday, January 21, 2009 @8:45:33 AM

Poor Ursula,  he thought as he sat on the bus, she loved me so much. How glad he was that he kept those dentures, at times he would wear them as he was being questioned by the police, his obliging smile fooling them all. No way could they link her body to him, she became another cold , closed file. "Darling......darling!,  her voice brought him back to the present,  "Its our stop"  she said.  He could feel the blood beating across his temples, oh the call of the Ashley Isle chisel, he could resist it no more.   "Shall i make tea?" she asked as they arrived into his cold and bland kitchen.   " if you  like"  he replied,  "I am just nipping down to the shed,  wont be a mo"......... 

fatbanjo Says:
Thursday, January 22, 2009 @1:52:21 AM

Dobson savoured every one of the 28 steps at average pace to the shed. The cold wet touch of the washing line in his left hand kept him on the narrow concrete path 23...24...25...suddenly his left foot kicked something slightly bulbous. Dobson looked down and by the faint light spreading across the garden from old Mrs Borovska's kitchen window Dobson could see the outline of a fat toad on it's back pitifully trying to up end it's self. "should you live or should you die I am God and I have the power to give and take life" he thought to himself. "it's your lucky day Mr.Toad, today you will meet your maker" Dobson lifted his right leg and brought down his heel on the toads up-ended speckled belly. The popping sound of the toads stomach reminded him of the Golden Wonder pickled onion crisps his Aunty Flora used to buy for him in Fine Fare on Saturday mornings as a child. Aunty Flora had a lot to answer for especially when cross questioned by Craig Dobsons child psychologist....

joemac Says:
Thursday, January 22, 2009 @3:19:39 AM

Whiping his shoes on the mat by the back door to remove the toads remains Dobson thought he saw the gostly like shape of  someone dash by the kitchen window from the inside, as he opened the door the lights dimmed and he found himself bathed in flickering candle light. Over by the creda washing machine and dressed in long flowing gothic style gowns was what looked like Geraldine, but instead of the shy , retiring rosy faced virgin that he thought he had come to know, stood a girl with a face full of hate and covered in the most horrific voodo make up.  "Yes Graig ", she snarled, " You may stare in wonder, but it IS me, you thought me an easy prey didnt you my darling?"......"But Geralidine" he stuttered , "whats this all about?".he felt frightened of her now, his hands dropping the chisel he had brought from the shed..For the first time in his life he faced something more terrible than himself.  She moved past him and turned the lock in the door. slowly she picked up the chisel, "Well my darling, i will tell you,   years ago now, as a little girl,  i only ever had one friend in the world,  a girl called Ursula,  you've heard that name Graig havent you?   "Oh my God" he thought, " No, this cant be happening"......................

fatbanjo Says:
Thursday, January 22, 2009 @7:37:19 AM

Thoughts of the summer of 1976 came flooding back to Dobson. Although a fear tighter than the grip of Aunty Floras right hand had consumed him, his memory became surprisingly lucid. Dobson remembered the bus ride from the end of Romney road which took a route round the back of pastors way and behind the railway station. The red double decker choked with the smell bensons & hedges made it's usual stop at Manson Avenue...and as usual at 8.30am. Ursula Wainwright boarded the no.92 to Dulwich where Ursula worked as a cashier at Rumbelows....

joemac Says:
Thursday, January 22, 2009 @9:50:08 AM

"May i sit here?".. she asked as she shuffled down the bus isle  looking for a seat, the bus was full that day due to a heavy, damp, clinging fog  that rolled off the river like molasas, slow and thick. "Why yes , of course my dear, here let me move my coat"...."How noble" she thought as she made herself comfortable in the seat . Trying not to stare she glanced  over toward him and noticed he was reading a well worn magazine,.."Oh" she said, " I see your into woodwork"..he looked at her in a puzzled way,  "You mean this?"  he asked. Throwing back his head of thick flowing dark hair and laughing, " well no, not woodwork, more the chisels and saws"............. 

fatbanjo Says:
Thursday, January 22, 2009 @3:49:48 PM

" I'm quite fond of carving anatomical structures" Dobson proudly announced..."Wow what like wildfowl and small woodland birds"? asked Ursula " Not exactly but interesting studies of life on the inside" replied Dobson. Ursula was unsure what he meant by 'life on the inside' but she was never the less fascinated by this dark haired stranger who appeared refreshingly different. " So I finish at 5.30 and I'm kind of free this evening, I'd love to see some of your anatomical structures Craig" asked Ursula " how do you know my name"? replied Dobson with a furrowed brow. " I read it on the cover of your woodworker magazine" replied Ursula... "Hmm Yes I'd could use a girl like you" replied Dobson hardly able to contain his salivating tongue..."I'm thinking of taking up the banjo, I don't suppose  you know where I might get hold of one"? 

joemac Says:
Friday, January 23, 2009 @6:08:55 AM

"But Craig, can't you make one?"  she said, " after all you are a woodworker so you say,  it couldnt be any worse than some of the rubbish they sell"  He felt cornered and wanted to shout "shutup you stupid cow"   but he held back, "well i could" he said, "but i couldnt do it for the money deerville sell them at, yes, i know they are rubbish and cheap, but they do play, after a fashon"   He let the subject drop, if she ever found out that he used a pink thumb pick he would become a laughing stock.

Dobson felt a sharp deep sting across his left cheek, the warmth of his own blood brought him back to reality and this terrible position he found himself in within his own kitchen.  Falling to his knees in pain and pleading with Geraldine to understand the second blow reigned down, he could tell by the smooth way it flaid his nose open that it was an Ashley Isle chisel.  she did not hear his plea's, with eyes full of fire and demonised she chanted some long forgotten chant, " Bury me beneith the willow"...................

fatbanjo Says:
Friday, January 23, 2009 @6:47:32 AM

Dobson reeled back and felt the Knuckles of his right hand slam in to the handle of the the brass coal bucket purchased in Vospers antique emporiam which came as a joint package along with Craigs first Windnor Zither banjo. " Underneath the weeping willow" SMASH! as Dobson hurled the half empty coal bucket which caught Geraldine flush on the breast bone. her victorian virginal gown had now become a twisted mass of coal-dust and blood. Dobson crawled to his feet and caught sight of his self in the Swan chrome kettle Aunty flora had left him along with a couple of subscriptions to Fangoria & BMI anatomical studies for the medical student part 1...his face hung in shreds reminisent of the night Aunty Flora let him stay up and watch the Joe Bugner/Henry Cooper fight on her old black & white Phillips television...

joemac Says:
Monday, January 26, 2009 @3:32:52 AM

Reeling with pain Geraldine tried to reach the parlour, "anywhere but here", she muttered. The chisel fell from her hand as the pantallete corset ripped unmercifully into her soft flesh, the genuine whale bone finding new levels of pain with every move it made. She had known for some time that the new all in one platex girdle was a better deal but only the blessed few could stretch to one of those. She made the parlour door, her bloodstained hand reaching out for the bakalite light switch, staggering over to the mantlepiece she reeled in horror as Ursula's teeth grinned back at her. There was no escape, she knew it. Collapsing onto the imitation leather settee she thought she caught sight of an old decaying skeletal body, covered in cobwebs and with a mummified cat on her lap.

Meanwhile Dobson saw his chance, going to the kitchen draw he pulled out the purple plastic stapler bought at woolworths in the spring sale. Clutching his ripped face flesh he quickly stapled his face back together, " ok for now" he grinned,  turning, he picked up the chisel and slowly made his way to the parlour......................

fatbanjo Says:
Friday, January 30, 2009 @1:37:48 AM

Geraldine's aorta had been ruptured by the fateful blow the coal bucket had deait her. Her now rapidly fading eyesight semi-focused on Dobson's 1957 RB 250 & 2/3rds Fibson Masterclone banjo." One last tune" she thought as she lurched forward and reached out her bloodstained hand. Geraldine's willowy fingers launched into a IMTITIM 2/3 HAMMERON foggy mountain roll at half speed and as the life force slipped from her pain racked body a second roll followed by an atempt at a haircut & shave could be heard. Her hand fell away from the banjo neck and her lifeless body slumped forward onto the Axminster patterned carpet, the discordant crack of sound from Dobsons masterclone could be heard as the bridge flipped forward under the weight of Geraldine's body falling to the floor...

joemac Says:
Friday, January 30, 2009 @5:25:36 AM

"Now then, whats all this 'ere the young Jones?"  asked sargent bill atkins as he approached the young constable who was standing guard by the front door at Capo Gardens, Atkins, a man of thirty years standing on the local force had seen it all,        " Cor blimey sarge, you aint goin to believe this one" said Jones " done to death good an' proper she is" "Calm down me lad" said Atkins " you'll get used to this in time". "Yeah but sarge, she got some writin' chiseled out on her forehead, an' her sitting with a banjo on her knee as well, bleedin' strange if ya ask me sarge"....Chisel? the word brought terror to Atkins face, something buried in the back of his mind came rushing to the front again after all these years, reminding him of a murder enquiry into a young girls strange death, Ursula, that was her name, as far as he could rmember she also had a strange message chiseled into her rotting flesh,  " Now then young Jones, before i goes in there to face the gruesome scene, think hard me lad, what is this strange message chiseled into the ladies face?"...he knew the answer before Jones spoke.." It says sarge...Shop at Davidsons, strange if you ask me"..................

fatbanjo Says:
Monday, February 2, 2009 @2:54:38 AM

"Cor Blimey lad" the colour began to drain from Atkins face " pass i that milk crate before I pass out...it can't be it just can't be"...."can't be what sarge"...."well lad i was only in their the other day, well say the other day it was about 6 months back now i guess'"...." in where sarge?" ...."Davidsons lad Davidsons!" ...."And"...."

joemac Says:
Monday, February 2, 2009 @4:06:38 AM

"well lad, its like this, good with chisels he is, not your normal Goodtime type chisler, oh no, he can make 'em talk lad, don't 'ang abaut either, one pass with the chisel and he's got ya lad,  banged to right's ".Anyway, in comes this mush,Dobson, that was his name, i was just sitting on the stool with me cup of free coffee, havin a go on some fat blokes banjo, from the midlands  he was, the fat bloke, bald an all if i remember"..Atkins eyes narrowed,  "Dobson, he asked Davidson if he needed an assistant, said he was good with chisels an' all, but davidson gave him the knockback,  him bein the best in the country you understand".Jones listened intently as Atkins went on."Dobson, he says to davidson you may be alright with these 'ere banjars but me, i'm more of your bone sculpture merchant, said his banjar bridges were handcrafted out of Ursula Wood"......Jones had never heard of such wood, truth was, neither had Atkins...."Anyway", said the sarge, "..."He left in a right huff when Davidson woud'nt buy any Ursula Wood bridges, he glared at me as he stormed passed, seen me uniform jacket hangin up"..."you the fuzz?" he says, " I just nodded"........"Then, well you'll never guess lad".................

fatbanjo Says:
Tuesday, February 3, 2009 @1:46:22 AM

"Might see you's in the next life copper" he said as he walked past I..."sent a chill down me spine son" ..."there was something in that look as 'e went past"....we'd better go in sarge...forensics are 'ere now. The forensics team carefully lifted Geraldines body and placed her face up on the the open body bag. The faint imprint of Dobsons medium/light Bernie Small strings could still be seen on Geraldine's chin.... pointing to the back of the banjo the forensics man said "Excuse me sir you might want to take a look at this...

joemac Says:
Tuesday, February 3, 2009 @5:34:49 AM

Slowly the forensic chief turned the banjo over, a red mist seemed to cloud his vision as he stared in disbelief at the etched writing on the resonator, "gone for a Burton...mr banjo.. England"...."Not him again" he murmered in horror. ."Alright sir?" enquired the junior...."If only you knew lad...there are some 'orrible things in this world and this is one of them, ..you see ol' Burton here has an alias, let me think....Dabson,  no DOBSON..thats it....CRAIG DOBSON"............"Hurry lad, to the car....no time to lose"....................

fatbanjo Says:
Tuesday, February 3, 2009 @6:00:08 AM

"Would you likey economy or first class Mr.Burton" asked the malaysian flight official at Gatwick...."First class please, actually I think I'll have the Sleeper"...."OkayDokay Mr. Burton...that will be $100 dollar more...Going somewhere nice Mr.Burton...Oh yes my sweet...Kualar Lumpar to get some new samurai chisels...todleloo!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

fatbanjo Says:
Tuesday, February 3, 2009 @6:12:25 AM

"Sorry my sweet that came out all wrong...what I meant to say was Toodleloo....Excuse Mr. Burton I have a cousin who lives in Kualar Lumpar I visit him this weekend!...I can show you some lovely restaurants?...Oh that would be Fantastic replied Dobson....My cellphone number is 0987612345 Mr. Burton...What is your name my sweet?...Gerursula Mr. Burton....Umm on second thoughts are there any flights running to Tasmania!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

joemac Says:
Tuesday, February 3, 2009 @2:08:22 PM

They took Geraldine away in the black Dormobile, just as evening fell on a cold bleak victorian terrace, the type found in any rundown shabby town. Atkins sat in the parlour, he remembered now, Ursula, the unsolved murder, the chisel marks on her skull, Dobson, the one that got away due to lack of evidence, the sneering face at Davidsons banjo emporium that day, years later...it was him, he thought, bleedin' Dobson, slipped past me twice now the cad. He wondered if he would come across Dobson again, there would be no mistake next time he thought..Tears came slowly from him as he thought of the two young victims, how they must have suffered hours and hours at the hands of Dobsons roll patterns..endless slides and pull off's , all done with that chisel of his.....He glanced around the room, his eyes resting on Dobsons Gypson Masterclone with the etched back, with caring hands he picked it up, just as the dirty yellow street lamps lit and the fog started down, he started to play a sad lament, singing quietly to himself, "Dig a hole dig a hole in the medow, dig a hole in the cold cold ground"

Young jones rushed in, "cor blymie sarge give it a rest, your murdering that, horrible it is".

"Yes Jones", said Atkins,  " i know..............MURDER MOST HORRID" 

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