Mystic Detective(4)

[creative writing]

The mystic detective awoke with a sore head. ‘That was strange I’ve not been drinking last night’. He put his head under the cold water tap in the sink - that usually worked with a hangover. It had little effect this time but then again it wasn’t a hangover. ‘I feel like I’ve been drugged’ and he remembered a rather strange and spacey conversation with Jeremy, one the OM monks, the night before. It was in the Ashram library which was more colourfully and extravagantly decorated than the other more Spartan rooms in the ashram. Especially the bedrooms that were more like monastic cells with hard futon mattresses laid on the cold pine wood floor.

Paula and Jeremy were both sat in front of a log burning stove. Jeremy had one of those delightful well bred voices that are easy on the ear. He was dressed in the ‘uniform’ of the ashram monks – a simple Indian style top and cotton trousers. On some of the monks such clothing seemed dishevelled but Jeremy’s fitted him well and was there just a hint of crease in his trousers and certainly his top was ironed and probably starched.

- I like the old fashioned open fire myself, said Paul attempting conversation which was unusual for him but Jeremy’s silence had somehow got to him.
- Yeah but wood burning stoves are so efficient and give lower emissions
- I can imagine

Curiously the room started to somehow swirl in front of Paul’s eyes
- Ah….
- Yeah?
- Ah the world is swirling
- Yes I guess you could say that. We, the planet and the universe or on a journey, dancing around each other
- Don’t mention dancing… I’m not sure I could stand up
- Well just rest there and let the universe journey on
- I’m not sure I have any other options
- Just r-e-l-a-x

Ordinarily anyone suggesting that Paul relax would have the opposite effect on him but Jeremy’s voice was so soothing and so hypnotic. After a few moments of silence the gentle but insisting questioning began
- Why are you here Paul?
- Why is any of us here? (They both laughed)
- True enough but what brings you here right now?
- Well I visited your place in Manchester and coming here seemed the next step.
- But you haven’t done a lot of yoga or meditation?
- No but I am very interested in Eastern philosophy.
- Hmm.. you were asking a lot of questions in Manchester
- Well that’s me I just like finding stuff out
- You were asking about Percy
- Yeah… what’s this an interrogation?
- No…. no… r.e.l.a.x…. Just trying to find out how we can be more helpful to you
- OK
- OK, is Percy a good friend of yours?
- I am closer to his wife Brenda
- Hmm

The next bit was rather a blur. Paul only had half memories of snippets of conversation with Jeremy. He remembered laughing sublimely at his own wordplay on mystic detective ‘I miss stick I detect ives, whatever ives is’
- Are you detecting me, asked Jeremy
- Clear as mud on my mudshit detector
- So why are you really here?
- Those ‘stential’ questions really really do my ‘ead in. Paul starts to sing, ‘Oh you’ve done my brain in’ (an old Bonzo Bog Band song)
- But its’ true you have done my brain in
- R-e-l-a-x
- Oh fuck you…..oh hell….

Later Paul remembered feeling and being somewhat disembodied as if he was floating above his body which was being carried by Jeremy and another of the monks who he later knew as Clem. Having carried him out of the library they gently deposited him fully dressed onto his bed.

And so the next morning there he was with a sore head and his cover - what cover? Blown. ‘I might as well leave here… but what happened to Percy? What had happened to Percy indeed. Percy was no longer at the Ashram. He had left 2 days before Paul had arrived. He’d gone where? No-one seemed to know. He has just walked out one day half through his month long retreat. Everyone at the ashram was pretty buttoned up about it. Paul was not convinced, indeed he was highly suspicious, but it was time to leave.

Back at his office they was a phone message from Brenda
- Hi Brenda, it’s Paul Whitley here
- Hi Paul thanks for ringing me back. I have heard from Percy. He sounded a bit strange. He was very apologetic but he wouldn’t say that much over the phone, and he ‘s not coming back just now but asked me, indeed begged me to t-t-trust him (Brenda sobbed)
- Oh fuck said Paul under his breath.
He hated people especially women crying on him and even more so over the phone. It made him feel so helpless and took him straight back to his childhood and his mother but he certainly didn’t want to go there.
- Take it easy
- I’m sorry
- It’s OK, I am sure it’s been very tough for you. Must be good to hear from him.
- It is but I am so worried about him (starts crying)
- Look I am going to get to the bottom of this, Paul didn’t know why he said this he didn’t usually make such big promises
- OK
- Are you?
- Yes I’m calm now
- OK… look take care, spend time with a friend….I’ll be in touch soon.

Paul sighed, this was a knotty one. He needed time to muse on it – a bike ride what his Australian friend Mickie called ‘cycleabout’ where you just let the bike take you were it wants to go – or perhaps it was time for a real retreat rather than what the hell had happened at the Ashram, or maybe start with a coffee and a don’t in Fuel. That was it.