Keppelberg by Stan Mason

was old... very old! She left me to go upstairs and shortly returned with an old suit similar to those worn by the men in the village, a waistcoat, a shirt and shoes.
    â€˜Here,’ she said, passing them to me. ‘They’ll hold you in good stead. You needn’t bother to return them. They belonged to my husband.’
    I nodded as she left the room and I put on the clothes surprised to see that they fitted me well. The woman returned a short while later and looked me up and down.
    â€˜Very good. You look smart,’ she commended. ‘You’re about the same size and weight as my husband was. It looks good on you’
    â€˜I want to thank you for your trouble,’ I advanced hesitantly.
    â€˜I’m indebted to you. Is there any work I can do for you in return?’
    â€˜I don’t think so,’ she replied frankly. ‘I shouldn’t really be talking to you let alone giving you the clothes.’
    â€˜Why not?’ I was facing the same problem once again. ‘Everyone in the village refuses to talk to me. Why can’t you?’
    â€˜I think you should leave now,’ she told me dismissively refusing to answer my question.
    â€˜Can you enlighten me about the pharmacy at least. What happens there?’ I knew that I was treading on dangerous ground and that she wouldn’t answer but the woman had been so helpful I thought it might be worth a shot.
    She clammed up so fast in her body language that I felt the icy freeze of her reply. ‘I’ve done enough for you today, sir,’ she uttered harshly. ‘It’s time for you to go!’
    I took her advice for fear of repercussion and left the house without delay. Had I stayed and insisted on an answer, I might have created a situation which would have returned me directly to the police station. All she needed to do was to scream and I’d be incarcerated in a cell for the rest of my life. Anyhow I had achieved what I wanted to do and, with my battle dress folded neatly and tucked away under my arm, I made my way out of the village and walked on to the garage.
    The mechanic was absent when I arrived there and I looked at my repaired car. I sat in the driver’s seat and turned on the ignition. It started immediately. It was in my mind to drive away and forget I had ever been here but something triggered at the back of my mind preventing me from doing so. I knew that if I returned to Keppelberg I was putting myself in danger. Any punishment I received there would be self-inflicted because I should head south and never come back again. But there was something intriguing about the place and I could not shake the desire to follow through my investigation even though there was no benefit for me in the long run. One might say that it had become an obsession. Wayne Austen would have torn his hair out if he knew of my decision especially as my car had been repaired and was ready for me to use. I could visualise him trying to pacify my sister when he told her that I had stayed voluntarily in the village despite having had to escape from jail. But then, hadn’t I been partly crazy in a crisis! I wouldn’t have saved four men on the outskirts of Basra from being killed if I hadn’t been slightly crazy!

Chapter Four
    I had enough food and victuals for the day because Mary had given me a stack of sandwiches and lots of cans of drink for the journey home which I had placed in the boot of the car. I removed them and sat there munching away as I waited for the mechanic to return. I had already decided to return to the village but this time I reckoned that the further I stayed away from the police station the less chance there would be for me to be caught. If I was recaptured, it would be a headache for them as to where to incarcerate me. Having once escaped from one of the cells, I was likely to do so again. The hours passed by and I decided to walk back to the village. If I had driven my car there, I