Author’s note..This follows on, from where tower of death ends..

Ep 1

The reporter turned savagely upon DI Nixon as he glanced at her.

“My producer is furious mate. We have just broadcast a fake news report!”

Nixon attempted to calm things down.

“Believe me mam; I was not too keen either. We were damn lucky he found that piece of film. It is imperative that this bomber thinks the Jubilee Tower has gone up.”

Sergeant Percy tapped his shoulder.

“Charly has just left the building sir.”

The DI left the confused anchorwoman, as the civilian ran towards them.

“Where is the bomb squad?”

“En-route my friend. All safe now?”

“I managed to defuse it didn’t I?”

The DI lowered his voice and explained the fake report.

“That was a good idea mate. One thing comes to mind though. He’ll soon find out that the tower is still standing.”

The DI smiled wryly.

“Let’s hope it flushes out the bastard eh?”

“I could not agree more sir. One piece of advice though. Check out that insurance firm on the top four floors first. Especially their cash flow.”

“You think it was an insurance scam?” Percy asked.

“It wouldn’t be the first time mate. That bomb was too easy to deactivate. Just tell the guys the Semtex looks a little unstable.”
Charly smoothed down his dark suit and started to walk off.

“Where are you off to?”

“Back home mate. I’ll have to ask my cat for forgiveness. As for
Grant, won’t he get a shock. Back from the dead eh?”

As he left the scene of confusion, a long dark van drew up, and the army bomb disposal team spilled out to remove the deadly device.
Charly ignored it and looked skyward.

“Thanks mum and dad. Even I thought that I was a goner.”

He wound himself down as he walked slowly home, turning the key when he got there. As he entered, Grant came running from the lounge.

“Time you had a shave mate,” Charly said noting the long grey beard.
As for that ruddy poncho...”

“How the hell did you survive the blast?”

Charly knelt as Christine bounded towards him.

“The DI faked that broadcast in order to draw the bomber into the open. Sorry if I worried you both.”

He stroked the cat lovingly, before walking into the lounge. As he sat upon the soft sofa, he reached for the coffee table and started reading the town’s daily paper.

“What about that doppelganger?” Grant asked.

Charly glanced up.

“He led me to the bomb site. On this occasion, he was not a harbinger of death. Which was lucky for me. One thing though, he had better not return. One fright like that is more than enough for me.”
He flicked through the paper and saw the two-page advert.

“I see the Life & times of Shakespeare is at our theatre.”

Grant sat and shrugged his broad shoulders.

“I never thought you were a fan.”

“I do have upper class tastes you know. I might just catch the evening performance.”

He glanced at Grant.

“Fancy coming along?”

“To that?”

“Why not? You might learn something.”

“I’ll probably fall asleep,” Grant replied.

“Suit yourself then.”

Charly gazed at the suit of mourning and suddenly felt out of place.

“I had better hang this up again. I put some flowers upon my parents’ grave.”

“Did you buy those daffodils?”

Charly nodded sadly and padded toward the bedroom. When he got there, he carefully removed the white card and put this upon his bedside cabinet. He removed the sad suit and replaced it with a woolly jumper and trousers. Returning to the lounge, he found the cat curled up upon the sofa headrest and sat beside her.

At just after 17 hours Charly sat in the small but comfortable Rose Theatre which strangely enough, was located on Theatre Street.
The play portrayed the life of the bard, with a few tweaks here and there of course. After an hour of stirring dialogue, the two actors reached the pivotal scene.

Shakespeare marched across the boards toward the skeletal form and shouted, “Foresooth! You again!”

“Did I not warn thee that I would return?”

Shakespeare turned toward the audience.

“Will not Hamlet desist these evil visitations?”

As these words tumbled out, a thick mist rose from the boards and enveloped the actor. As the audience giggled, it cleared again. The giggling stopped as they realised that something was terribly wrong.
The actor lay upon his back, with a dagger sticking out of his still chest.

Ep 2

As screams echoed around, Charly pulled out his mobile and rang a familiar number.

“Sorry to disturb you Nixon, but you are needed at the theatre. Shakespeare has been murdered.”

Charly waited patiently as the crowds left. Just after the medics arrived, DI Nixon and Sergeant Percy made their presence known.

“What are we dealing with?” Nixon asked.

“Something otherworldly sir,” Charly replied. “He was enveloped by a thick white mist I’m afraid.”

Charly followed them to the stage, where the DI flashed his warrant card.

“Did anyone see the killer?”

The shocked actors shook their heads.

“I was the only one with him,” Hamlet said. “One moment he’s speaking. Next, he is dead.”

“How is that possible?” Percy asked.

A young female actress was visibly shaking.

“Hamlet’s curse.”

The DI stared at her.

“What are you talking about?”

“You know sir. In every performance of the bard’s Hamlet, the actor avoids mentioning the awful name.”

“Why?” the DI asked.

“It brings bad luck to the play and at least five actors have died.”

“Poppycock!” Percy exclaimed.

The actress slapped his cheek hard.

“Is not that knife real? Does not his heart lay there still and motionless?”

Charly stepped between them at once.

“I take it that the mist was not part of the play.”

“Damn right it’s not,” Hamlet said.

“It must have been his ghost then,” the actress added.

“Hamlet’s ghost?” Charly asked.

“Who else?” the woman asked.

The DI watched as the weapon was slowly withdrawn from the dead man’s chest. Luckily, the medics removed the blade with a kerchief to preserve any fingerprints. As Nixon took it, the body was gently lifted onto the stretcher and carried away.

“Can we go now?” the actress asked.

“Not until you all provide statements and your current addresses.”

“That’s easy,” Hamlet said. “Crown Hotel. We all reside there at present.”

Charly knew the place well. A fifties building designed to look like a castle. Upon the flat roof, an ancient cannon waited to be fired in anger.

“Very well then,” Nixon said. “We’ll take the statements on the morrow. As for your play, I am afraid it’s cancelled. At least until we sort out this mess.”

As the players left the building, Charly buttonholed the officer.

“How is the tower investigation going?”

“They are cooperating Charly. Our finance boys are checking the books. As for the bomb, the army say it was never a threat in the first place.”

“How come?”

The officer smiled.

“That blue stuff you thought was Semtex, was nothing more than glaziers putty.”

Charly’s cheeks went bright red at the news. The DI patted his shoulder warmly.

“Better luck next time eh?”
 
Ep 3

DI Nixon was rather surprised when he left the theatre with his trusty sidekick. The female reporter was waiting for him.

“You again.”

The woman smiled sweetly.

“My producer wants a quid pro quo.”

Nixon sighed at the news.

“What do you want?”

“Is it true that a ghost knifed the actor?”

“Certainly someone did mam. We both know that ghosts don’t go around knifing people.”

“Can I quote you on that?”

“With my pleasure.”

“What about the bomb at the tower?” she persisted.

The DI dropped his voice sharply.

“This is strictly off the record you understand. The bomb turned out to be a fake. We are also investigating the insurance company.”

The lady smiled.

“Thanks for that.”

“Anytime,” Nixon replied before climbing into the panda car.

“Where to now sir?” Percy asked.

“Back to the station I think. You know sergeant? This is an open and shut case.”

Percy glanced at his boss as the vehicle drove away from the kerb.

As evening turned to night, Hamlet was a worried man. He knew about the curse, who didn’t? As he paced the floor of his hotel room, one thought plagued him.

“Who was next?”

He turned the television on and sat to watch the wildlife programme. As the lions hunted Zebra across the African plain, the door was rapped thrice. Sighing deeply, he sauntered over and opened it quickly. A wall of mist stood before his startled eyes.

“Is this a dagger I see before me?”

The panda car had nearly reached the station when the call came through. Nixon informed his driver at once and the vehicle performed a 360-degree turn that startled an unfortunate cyclist.

The maid was hysterical as the officers gazed upon the body of Hamlet.

“I want this corridor blocked off Percy. No one in or out.”
He noted the bloody dagger protruding from the victim’s chest and the look of surprise upon his face.

“How many residents upon this floor?” he asked.

“Three sir. All acting types.”

“Thanks, you may go now.”

As Percy returned, he began banging upon the doors loudly. The woman who had accosted Percy earlier was the first to answer. Everyone knew by now what had happened and she was none too pleased.

“I’m departing in the morning,” she muttered. “I’m not waiting to be bumped off.”

“You can’t do that miss,” Percy insisted. “We still need those statements.”

“To hell with those. Can’t you see through those sceptical eyes?”

“You still think a ghost did these?” Nixon asked.

“What else can materialise on stage and do that before coming here for a second performance?”

“Where were you when...” Nixon asked gently.

“I was in bed of course.”

“Did you hear anything?”

“Only the thud of him falling. When I looked, the maid was walking down this corridor.”

The officers left and soon located the second suspect.

“I was in the bar sir. Plenty of witnesses.”

There was no point in further questions so they quickly located the third person of interest. A young man of twenty answered the door.

“When I heard the screams from that maid I came running. There Hamlet was, dead upon the damn floor.”

“You did not hear someone running off?” Percy asked.

“Where could they have gone? There is only one way off this floor sir, and the maid would have seen them.”

Nixon glanced at the sergeant.

“Perhaps not such an easy case after all.”

The young man nodded.

“Perhaps it was a ghost after all.”

“You really believe that?” Nixon asked.

“There are more things in Heaven and Earth, than are dreamt of in your philosophy Horatio.”

When the officers left the room, the forensic team had arrived with the trusty doctor.

“Strange weapon to use?”

“Why do you say that?” Nixon asked.

The medic pointed to the blade.

“This is a letter opener. Rather ornate tis true. Just like the other one.”

The two officers were startled by the revelation.

“When can I see the prints?” he asked the forensic officer.

“By the morning sir.”

Nixon nodded and left the scene as elsewhere that night, a lonely cleaner mopped the foyer to the closed theatre.

She had done this for ten years now. A boring job tis true, but well paid none the less. Due to the killing, she was not allowed to mop inside the building, which was a mighty relief for this hard worker.
Beneath the nineteenth century clock, she noticed what looked like two red dots upon the dark floor.

“What can those be?”

She mopped over them, and was shocked that they remained in situ.”

“Well, I’ll be damned.”

She furrowed her brow as a column of white mist rose behind her. She must have felt something for she dropped the mop and whirled around.

“For the love of God!”

A flash of silver cut her short, and the body crashed headlong upon the water-filled pail.

Ep 4

The sun had just risen when the officers were called to the scene. A passing traffic warden had noticed the open door and peered inside.

As Nixon gazed upon the woman’s cold corpse, he whispered, “Poor
Yoric, I knew him well.”

“I didn’t know that you read Shakespeare sir.”
Nixon smiled.

“Only at school Percy. It seems an appropriate line now. I want the theatre searched from top to bottom. The damn body count is mounting.”

“I’ll see to it sir.”

From outside, a loud and very drunk voice hollered towards heaven.

“A horse, a horse. My kingdom for a horse!”

The DI recognised the voice at once. Dashing outside, he saw Henry staggering along the street, vodka bottle raised high.

“You know the rules by now,” Nixon said snatching it away. No drinking in public places!”

“Come on sir. Hic. Gees it back now.”

“Only if you promise to keep your voice down mate.”

“As God is my witness.”

The DI, a kindly man at heart, handed it back before rejoining his partner in crime.

They had reached the actors changing rooms and Percy noticed a tape recorder sitting lonely upon a desk. He pressed play and the strong voice of a women drifted through the air.

“Romeo, Romeo, where for art though Romeo?”

He turned it off at once.

“Sorry sir.”

“No need Percy. We have to check everything you know.”

A sudden shout from the stage brought the two officers running at once.

“What’s up?” Nixon yelled.

The constable pointed.

Rising from the boards to a height of five feet was a column of white mist.

“Run for it now!” Nixon yelled.

The column suddenly advanced and silver flashed the air. As it vanished, the officer fell to his knees, gripping the buried handle. He gazed up at the two officers and groaned, “Et tu Brute?”

His eyes closed, and the body keeled over sideways.

Nixon glared at the boards.

“There’s not even a damn trap door sergeant. This has turned into a
Shakespearean nightmare.”

“We both saw it this time sir.”

The DI pulled out his radio calmly.

“Despatch? I want Charly and Grant brought to the theatre at once.
Handcuff them if necessary.”

He saw the look upon Percy’s face.

“We have no option now. We really need their help.”

The corpses were being removed, when the two civilians arrived upon the scene. Within the theatre, Nixon called them over.

“Two more Nixon?” Charly asked.

“We have four bodies now,” Percy replied.

“What do you know of this curse?” Nixon asked.

“Only that every actor who has said Hamlet in a play has suffered serious consequences. The problem is though; it only applies to that play. This production should have been immune.”

“Well it’s not,” Percy said.

“We saw this mist kill one of our men,” the DI explained.

“In here?” Grant asked.

“Upon the stage to be precise,” Percy said.

Charly thought of something.

“As I was coming in, there were two dots of blood upon the floor under that clock.”

“Show me where,” Nixon said.

Back in the foyer, Charly pointed.

Nixon knelt and ran his finger over them.

“Must be paint. It’s still damp from that mop.”

“Whatever is causing this must be here,” Charly suggested. “We can’t ignore three deaths in one building.”

Nixon stood.

“Neither can I mate. How do we find this thing?”

Charly glanced at his poor friend.

“Fancy playing Horatio?”

Grant stared back in horror.

“You must be joking!”

“I’ll arrest you if you don’t,” Nixon said dryly.

Grant’s face fell.

“What if it appears again?”

“I’ll need the murder weapon,” Charly said casually.

“It’s inside the evidence box,” Nixon said.

When it was opened, he handed Grant a pair of white gloves.

“Put these on first.”

Grant did so, gazing down at the blood soaked letter opener. He removed it from the plastic evidence bag and asked, “What do you want me to do with it?”

“Just let instinct take over,” Charly said, winking.

He whispered something into Grant’s right ear and smiled.

“You had better know what you are doing mate.”

The stage was cleared of the CSI team, and Grant stood upon the boards.

“Are you ready?” Charly asked. Remember

“As ready as a plate of rice mate.”

“You can start then.”

Grant took a deep breath, trying to control the sensation of dread.
He coughed once and spoke in a loud, but clear voice.

“What, has this thing appear’d again tonight?”

A column of white mist suddenly rose before him and Grant staggered back. As it suddenly advanced, he lashed out with the silver blade.
The mist reeled back and terrifying screams rent the still, purified air. As everyone watched, the column suddenly collapsed, leaving nothing but dark dust upon the boards.

Charly clapped loudly.

“Bravo! Bravo! Bravo!”

Just before leaving, the DI took Charly to one side.

“How did you know?”

Charly smiled at Grant and winked.

“Know what detective inspector?”