Dark Side of Tomorrow: Ivan Bennett of Scotland Yard

Chapter Four

Ivan and Walt drove back to headquarters without much conversation. Each Inspector was going over in his mind, what they had witnessed and what the forensic experts had told them.  

Finally Ivan broke the silence by saying, “Marsha Hart is one of the best forensic experts around. If she can’t decipher the clues as to the killer, I doubt we will be able to.”

Walt just nodded his agreement.

When they entered Scotland Yard, Ivan found a note on his desk. It read, “Grace Simmons wants you to call her.”

Picking up his phone he dialed the number.


“Grace, this is Inspector Bennett, you wanted me to call?”

“Yes, Inspector, I was talking to a friend of mine today who lives on a farm about five miles out of town. He told me he had made a startling discovery.” Grace said.

“And what is this startling discovery?” Ivan enquired.

“I’d rather you ask him that question, Inspector.” Grace continued.

“Fine, give me his name and number.”

“It’s Simon Éclair. He lives off the county road of Madison, east of town, first house on the right.” Grace finished.

“Thank you Ms. Simmons, rest assured I will follow up on your tip.” Ivan said and hung up the phone.

“That was Grace Simmons, giving you a tip? I do not believe this.” Walt said, smiling.

“Yes, she says a friend of hers, who owns a farm, found something very disturbing.” Ivan answered.

“And she wouldn’t share what it was?” Walt asked.

“Nope, said she wanted me to drive out there and talk to him myself. So, come on, we are going to take a short drive in the country.” Ivan said as he walked out the door.


The countryside was beautiful as the two Inspectors made the drive to Grace Simmons, friend’s farm. The green trees and abundance of grass told London’s countryside had received adequate rain and the crops should be good this season. Ivan was thinking as he turned in the drive to the farm.

When Ivan stopped the car, an elderly man dressed in blue overalls came out of the farm house to meet them. Ivan and Walt got out of the car and extended their hands for a handshake as they introduced themselves.

“I’m Inspector Ivan Bennett and this is my partner, Inspector Walt Graham.”

“Glad to meet you, Inspectors, my name is Simon Éclair. I’m a friend to Grace Simmons.” The elderly man declared.

“She tells me you have made an unusual discovery, here on your farm?” Ivan asked.

“Only, if you consider finding a human skull unusual.” The farmer smiled.  

“A human skull, oh my, that certainly is unusual.” Ivan replied. “Where did you find it?”

“In the pig pen.” He answered.

Shocked, Walt blurted out, “In the pig pen, sir?”

“Yes, indeed. Come with me and I’ll show you the exact spot.” Simon said as he turned and started toward the barn.

The two Inspectors followed Simon Éclair with much anticipation. What in the world was a human skull doing in Mr. Éclair’s pig pen?

When they reached the barn, they walked around to the side and climbed up on the fence that housed the pigs inside. 

Pointing to the far corner, Mr. Éclair said, “Over there is where I found the skull.”

Following the farmers pointing finger, both Ivan and Walt gazed at the corner of the pig pen covered in pig mud. It smelled exactly like what it was. 

Ivan asked, “Did you find anymore bones, Mr. Éclair?”

“No, sir, nothing but the skull. Come on in the barn and I’ll show it to you.”

They climbed down off the fence and followed Simon into the barn. He opened one of the tack room doors and walked over to a shelf where he picked up a skull, still covered in pig mud. He handed it to the Inspectors.

Ivan accepted the skull and looked at it intently. Then he handed it over to Walt who reluctantly took it.

Staring down at the muddy skull Walt asked, “Do you think it’s one of those girls?

“Well, it’s certainly not one of the girls that we have found. They are all in the morgue. This must be one we didn’t know about.” Ivan said.

They thanked Mr. Éclair and assured him they would let him know the outcome of the evidence he had found. The two Inspectors left the farm with the skull wrapped up in a tow sack Mr. Éclair had furnished.

“What are you thinking, Ivan? I see your wheels turning.” Walt asked.

“I’m thinking the first thing I’m going to do is find out if Mr. Éclair has declared any of his family or friends missing.”

“Surely you don’t think that old man had anything to do with this?” Walt stammered.

“Walt, I examine everything. Whatever is left, is evidence.” Ivan said.

“True Sherlock Holmes reasoning.” Walt smiled.

Ivan didn’t answer as he headed straight to the morgue and his friend, Marsha Hart.

This has been a look inside Dark Side of Tomorrow: Ivan Bennett of Scotland Yard. To read the rest of the mystery, get your copy now on Kindle for Amazon



Bessie Attends a Funeral

Bessie’s good friend, Viola Godspeed, passed away.  Bessie was very upset over Viola’s death.  They had been friends for a long, long time.  How long, Bessie wouldn’t say and she was very disappointed the funeral home had given Viola’s date of birth. That would mean folks could figure out pretty quick how old Bessie was. Well, those that knew Bessie and Viola, knew that they had started school together.

The biggest comfort in that, was not many were old enough to even know, much less remember it.  But, a lot of folks had nosey grandmothers and great grandmothers with memories like an elephant. Bessie theorized that if she wore enough make up people would not even bother to compare Viola and her.

She walked into the funeral home. It was the night of visitation for Viola. Sort of like a wake. The room was extremely crowded. Bessie made her way up to the front where the casket rested, surrounded by beautiful flowers.

Bessie thought, I wonder who sent all these flowers. My word, I never saw so many. I had no idea Viola had this many friends. Wonder what she was into that I didn’t know about. Look at that beautiful spray of red roses. I wonder who sent that.

Quietly and discreetly, so as not to draw attention, Bessie made her way to the spray of red roses and turned her head sideways so she could read the card. It said, ‘With love. James Spiller.’

What? James Spiller. How in tarnation did Viola manage to get close enough to James Spiller to have him send such a beautiful memorial as these lovely red roses? I bet she was running with him and never told me for fear I would take him away from her.

Viola, you sneaky devil. Bessie thought.

Bessie returned to the casket and stared down at Viola’s face. Oh, Viola, my dear friend, I’m going to miss you.  I wish they had put a little more rouge on your pale cheeks.  Geez, Viola, your hair doesn’t look quite right either…to flat on top for your little pointed head. Oh, my, look at those wrinkles, just need a little smoothing out.  I wonder if they would allow me to just ‘touch you up a bit?’

Bessie looked around the room for the undertaker, not seeing him anywhere she just carefully pulled Violas hair up a little, just a smidge to cover the wrinkles on her forehead.  Then she patted Viola’s hand and whispered under her breath where only Viola could hear, “Oh, Viola, you poor thing. You just look so dead.”

As she walked away from the casket, she spied James Spiller talking to the pastor of her church.  That was a perfect excuse to talk to James.  She walked up and extended her hand as she said, “So good of you, James, to come out to Viola’s wake, I wasn’t aware that the two of you were so close.”

James nervously cleared his throat and Bessie’s pastor looked extremely uncomfortable as Bessie continued to stare at them. Finally, the pastor said, “If you will excuse us, Bessie, we need to talk to the undertaker.”

Oh, I just bet you do.  Bessie thought but she didn’t say that, instead she returned to the head of Viola’s casket where she stood as the many visitors passed by.

As music played softly in the back ground, Bessie stood like a sentinel at the casket. When Vera Carp walked passed Bessie thought, Oh, look Viola, your old nemesis has come out to see you.  She’s most likely glad you’re gone.  Now she can win the Christmas Pageant’s, ‘most beautiful yard.’  It was hilarious how you beat her out year after year.

Oh, here comes Hortense Huff.  I can’t believe she would even show her face in public.  Everyone in town knows she ran off with that newspaper reporter.  Do what Viola?  Oh, yes, that’s right, he wasn’t a reporter, he just delivered newspapers.  Well, she certainly made the headlines when he dumped her in Biloxi and she had to have money wired to her to get home.

Oh, and there’s Gladis’ Johnson. Poor Gladis.  Her fiancé, Horace Greely, ran off with the town secretary and left Gladis waiting in the church where they were supposed to get married.  Now that’s sorry, Viola.  Oh, I know you didn’t care of Gladis but no one deserves that. Do what?  Oh, Viola, she’s not the wicked witch of the west.

Look, there’s Spencer Knight.  He’s such a handsome man.  I always wanted to date him but Yvonne Miller kept getting in the way.  The slut, I have never understood what Spencer saw in her.

Here comes Hortense Powers. Oh, Viola, you remember Hortense.  In grade school she took your boyfriend, Clarence away from you.  Oh yes, she did, Viola, no need to deny it, she flat stole him away from you.  Do what? No, you didn’t Viola, you cried for days, I remember.

The night wore on and Bessie continued to watch over her friend Viola and to share her opinion about all those that came to pay their respect to her dearly departed friend.

Bessie’s continued to act as sentinel through the next day’s funeral service. She stood at the foot of the casket as they waited at the cemetery for the pastor’s final departing words for Viola.

When the pastor finished his prayers, the procession of mourners, went down the line shaking hands with Viola’s family members. When they all were through, the crowd started to leave so the undertaker could finish his job.

Bessie kept standing, staring at the foot of Viola’s casket.  Finally, the undertaker said, “Ms. Buemiller, I understand the love for your good friend Viola Godspeed, but I’ve got to finish my job now.  Can I call someone to come and help you to your car?”

“No, you cannot.  But, what you can do is explain how you managed to bury Viola in a casket made in China.” Bessie said as she moved the flowers over so the tag on the end of the casket could be read.

“She had a prepaid funeral plan, Ms. Buemiller.”

“I know that, but no way would she have selected, ‘Made in China,’ to be on her casket. A final farewell to a red blooded American?  No way Jose, Viola didn’t know that, and I’m telling everyone I know to check out where their prepaid funeral casket is made.  And I’m telling you right now, you do that to me, and I promise I will come back and personally, kick your ‘Made in China,’ undertaking ass.” 

To enjoy more of Bessie’s adventures, download The Trials and Tribulations of Bessie Buemiller Volume I, now available for Kindle on Amazon


Fruit Inspector

I just want to stand back and say, ‘what in the world is going on?’ I am so sick of drunken, dope infested, PLOM (Poor Little Old Me)  ridden individuals, I could throw up.  They take advantage of our government handouts which should be stopped.  When we bring them back from the brink of death by using Narcan, which runs about $1500.00 a shot, or whatever other very expensive drug it takes to save them, and then they turn around and do it again and sometimes again and again and again.

There are cities in our United States that have safe places dopers can go and if they OD there, they can use this drug Narcan to bring them back.   I’m for letting them die, when people whose children have to have Epi-pens to survive can’t afford them due to the cost, yet we are going to give these dopers a place to safely get high and then bring them back if they OD, how can this be right?

This opioid epidemic has been ongoing for hundreds of years.  History tells us that the Opium addicts were with us in the Opium dens long ago. This is not new. Now I realize I’m gonna get a lot of hate mail over that remark but I really don’t care.  God has given us life and free will and a beautiful world to enjoy, to live in, to be happy in and some are so bored with first of all themselves and second of all life,  they try to take it daily to avoid living life sober, so they chose drugs or anything that alters the mind.  Toughen up buttercup; you’re no better or worse than the rest of us.

Some say well, alcohol is the door way to drugs. Oh really?  Then is sex the door way to becoming a whore?  Same difference.  You are who you chose to be, whether good, bad or indifferent.  I’m not talking about those folks with cancer or other life taking illnesses.  They have to fight to get drugs to help them with the pain because these dope ridden losers have ruined that for them.  I’m talking about the normal human who is so bored with life they decide they will experiment with the life altering effects of drugs, alcohol, dope etc. Addictions are habits, habits that are hard to break.  How do you avoid getting a habit?  You don’t ever start them to begin with.  Then you have nothing to change, nothing to overcome.

If your situation in life is so miserable that you have to take drugs to endure it, then change your situation.  Get rid of what’s causing you to have to escape the reality of life. I am clean and sober only by the grace of God almighty.  That’s what’s lacking in the addicts life.  God all mighty.  Satan the liar will tell you that you’re justified in your PLOM thinking, but Lucifer, old Luci is nothing but a liar.  Why would you listen to someone you know lies with every breath?

Why anyone in their right mind starts doing something that effects their small innocent children who they brought into this world, why would they?  Because, they think more of themselves than they do the children.  Some say, no, they aren’t themselves when they are on drugs.  Oh, really, well apparently at some point they weren’t on drugs, so why did they start? If you choose to take drugs for goodness sake go get yourself sterilized so you don’t bring innocents into this world to have to live with YOUR ADDICTIONS AND YOUR SINS.

Here’s the truth about most of the drug addictions…truth is telling someone something they don’t want to hear so I’m going to say this. All you have to do is follow the money.  If drugs, alcohol etc. are sicknesses then the insurance companies will pay for them and big pharma can make money off them.  But, if those things are sins, self-induced, freely taken, doing what I want to do, then the insurance won’t pay and big pharma loses money. Humm that’s pretty clear isn’t it?

As it true with most things in life, just follow the money.

Now you’re going to say, ‘you’ve no right to judge me.’  You’re right I don’t, but I do have the right to be a fruit inspector and the fruits drug addicts and alcoholics bare,  are rotten.

People who have been hooked on drugs because of an illness or injury they received,  or God help us,  a wounded veteran, whether mental or physical,  are the ones who need help. Those that have had to go to pain doctors who gave them medicine, then the pain doctors kicked them out of treatment because now they were addicts, those people need our help. The doctors need to be forced to continue their treatment after they are addicted to the meds, that they, the pain doctors,  gave to them that got them hooked. This needs to be looked into as well as many other things that aren’t just right.

But, this does not apply to those self-willed drug takers or alcoholics. They chose to become what they are.

Again I say, follow the money and see where it takes you.

The Amen Days

What are the “Amen Days”?  Well, for me, they’re those days that everything I write or read, I want to say “Amen” to.   Amen means, “So be it.” When we say, “Amen”, we mean we are in agreement with the quote or the prayer or the circumstance, we are involved in at the moment.  So, I love the “Amen Days”.


On those days, my heart is in agreement with the text I’m reading or the words I hear repeated.  Either way, it’s an “Amen Day”.

Unfortunately, we have too few “Amen Days”.  If we let it, the world will creep right in on top of us.  It will crawl underneath our covers and before we know it, we’re engulfed with the world’s fears and woes and all the junk that goes along with it.


Frankly, I’m sick of that.


I want a whole bunch of “Amen Days”.  Days filled with laughter and love and peace.  Days that I can love on my precious family and tell them, “I love you”.  Days I can sing God’s praises with a happy heart.  Days that are free from worldly plights and plans.  Days when the sun shines and the birds sing and I can walk with my dog and feel God’s presence all around me.


I long for those days.  I pray for those “Amen Days”.


Unfortunately, if I’m not careful, the ‘dreads’ become more powerful than the ‘Amens’.  I know the Lord tells me to turn my fears and worries over to Him and I truly can do that most of the time.  But, I have to admit I must always stay on guard.  For Satan lurks, ever ready to creep in and take over my thoughts.  That’s how he wins, you know, he seeks to control our mind.


Join me in praying for many more “Amen Days”.  Join me in thanking the Lord for the blessings of the “Amen Days” that He’s already allowed us to enjoy.


There needs to be a new phase coined.  It needs to be, “May you have a blessed ‘Amen Day’.


God bless you and may you have a blessed, “Amen Day”.