“No, it may give you motive, but to prove intent you have to have the wife on record stating she wanted him dead, and I am guessing we don’t have that.”
“No sir.”
“It was in the middle of the day, a nice sunny day, if I remember?”
“Yes sir.”
“So, plenty of people about, yes?”
“A few, sir.”
“Okay, my point is that this large naked man managed to jump into the sea quickly. If another party had subdued him, stripped him and then dragged him to the cliff top and then hurled him into the sea, do you not think it would have taken a bit longer and risked being seen by someone?”
“Um, possibly, yes sir.”
“Look, Ray, its right you look at all the angles, but really, let’s wait until they find the body. If there are any suspicious marks, then we’ll contact the Americans, but as for now, leave it, okay?”
Ray went back to the general office and closed the file. He placed it into his ‘Pending’ tray and picked up the next in the ‘In’ tray. It was a report of a burglary of a cycle shop in which fifteen brand new and expensive mountain bikes had been stolen overnight.
Ray almost forgot about Allun Tanner.
Matthew jotted some unanswered questions on his note pad in his study.
Was the person Tamsyn a real person or the name of some frustrated computer geek? Were there any connections between the character in the game and the Lady Tamsyn of legend?
Matthew scrolled through the past pages of game-play and discovered a clue. Whoever ‘owned’ the character called Tamsyn in the game was most likely American. For a start, words like ‘gotten’, ‘ain’t’ and ‘color’ shone out like a beacon in the darkness. However, the poor nature of British education these days would not preclude a British person aping Americanisms, but he doubted it.
He spent some time reading what was written and came to the conclusion that the person was probably female and most likely in her thirties, if not a little older. This was due to her occasional quip about popular music and choice of artist. Also, her language and general formatting of sentence structure would indicate an intelligent person, but not highly educated.
There was nothing in the game-play that would tie directly into the legends, except for the fact the game designers obviously had done some research into many old legends and included some of the details in their game. Indeed, the game was conglomeration of many legends, mainly, but not exclusively, English.
Matthew researched Bright Star games, the company that had designed and marketed it. It was an English company, which surprised him for some reason. It was based in Milton Keynes, not far from Bedford.
He found the company listed and eventually, managed to find a telephone number and called them, purporting to be looking to invest in the games market.
“Hello, I’m looking to invest in the company that distributes and runs the Legend of the Runes. I’m particularly interested in contacting the game designer.”
The young woman he spoke to was not entirely helpful.
“Yes, it’s one of our games, but it was designed by a freelancer who sold it to the company last year.”
“Could you give me that person’s details, as I’m interested in possibly backing a sequel of that game?”
“This company holds all rights to all the games it produces, so if you want to talk to one of the directors?”
“Yes, please.”
“I’m afraid they’re all away at a conference in America this week. They will be back next week; would you like to leave your name, and I’ll see who is available next week?”
“No. I’ll call back, thank you.”
He put the phone down, frustrated.
Then, he simply typed ‘who designed the Legend of the Runes’ into his search engine and waited the few seconds for many possible links.
Most referred him to the Bright Star company, but one listed a Vic Smith as being the original author and designer. He clicked and followed the link to find a personal website of a young woman called Victoria (Vic) Smith who designed computer games for a living.
There was no phone number or address on the website, so he tried Facebook. There were a great many Victoria Smiths, Vic Smiths and all manner of variations. In the end, the one he believed was responsible for the game was listed as living in Lothian, in southeast Scotland. That was a big place, so it could be anywhere from Edinburgh to the border.
Her photograph was not an inspiring one, but he got the impression of a large girl who had a weight problem. On looking on her Facebook page, and her profile, he discovered many likes to transgender sites and friends, so perhaps Vic had been a Victor and was now Victoria.
It would explain a solitary and rather introspective career choice, and judging by her Facebook page, not that many friends that were either local or what he’d describe as face-to-face friends.
Not caring one jot what gender she was or is or wanted to be, Matthew went back into her website and emailed her to return an email with regards to the game and possible investment. Then, he sat back to wait for a response.
“So, do I have actual belongings at this farm, or at a student room in Portsmouth?” she asked Gwen.
“I don’t know, dear, possibly, but then, it depends on so many variables. Let me see. If I call the university, they might be able to help.”
Gwen picked up the phone and went through to directory enquiries, asking for the students’ facilities officer.
Minutes later she came off the phone.
“You have a small, single room in halls that you have to vacate within one week as the new students will need it next semester. They were grateful that I called, as, to quote; this one seems to have slipped by us. We must have misplaced the record, as we thought no one was in this room, but the entry showed up yesterday, unquote.”
“So, it happened there as well?”
“So it seems.”
“This is crazy.”
“It must seem like it.”
“I mean, I thought I made it all up.”
“Well, perhaps it was made up for you. The spirit world is an uncharted region of life.”
“Spirit world?”
“Oh yes. I have no doubt that you are the reincarnate Tamsyn from legend. She has been waiting all this time for a suitable host, and you, my girl are she!”
“I’m like a host to some weird spirit-being?”
“Okay, then replace the word host to partner. She needed a body, and you willing provided it.”
“This is not my original body,” Tamsyn pointed out. “I mean, I wish to hell it was, but it’s not.”
“It’s the body that your spirit identifies with, yes?”
“Yes, but..”
“Then she flitted straight in. Make no mistake, you are in control, but her spirit has to dwell somewhere, so she helped you create the suitable vehicle for the task.”
“Vehicle? You make me feel like a Jeep or something!”
“Not a bad analogy, as it happens. You see, clearly your old form was not either suitable or fit for purpose, for so many reasons. Your mind and possibly your soul were already in tune with her, so it was easier to change your form than change hers.”
“I see, I think. Look, just how is it you know all this?”
“I don’t; not really. It just makes sense. I’ve been researching and living in the books and legends for so long that they’ve almost become a reality for me. It’s like my spirit knows what is true and what is not.”
“So, what do I do now?” Tamsyn asked. She had gone to feeling on top of the world, albeit with some major issues to face, to being suddenly brought down to Earth, despite some of those issues being resolved. It was almost as if things were better when she was a non-person, outside the hum-drum of normal life.
Gwen looked at her watch.
“In twenty minutes, I’ll hand over to Marjorie. We’ll take a little trip to the farm and see what there is for you to collect.”
“You mean my uncle’s place?”