Janna's Quest: The Island Connection, #12

By Graham Hamer

Janna is fourteen going on twenty-four. She is tall and athletic and sharp as a razor. But her grandfather has gone missing and Janna makes it her business to try and find him. She is helped by Oddball, an old friend of her parents. Oddball is forty-six and drives an1100cc Ducati Panigale the same way that he lives his life – fast and dangerous. Their partnership develops into a mutual quest to find Janna's grandfather – though maybe it's already too late.

 

Meanwhile, sexy thirty-year-old Gabrielle Kay, is busy making love to, and making money with, Brian Shuttleworth, leader of the Cornerstone Evangelical Church. But her sister has other plans which threaten their illegal business venture. Not that her sister cares for the law – she just struggles with reality at times. And be sure to keep an eye on Paddy Quirk posing as Snorker Dingwallace. It's Paddy's actions that will end in death. But who's and how?

 

While all this is going on, Fergus is occupied in the arms of Alisha or Carla, or sometimes both, at The Foundation – a sort of upmarket hippy, happy-tappy, anything-goes establishment on the beautiful east coast of the island. None of them are teenagers any longer, but that doesn't stop them living life to the full and beyond. Fergus is happy making the best of the situation, because he knows that it cannot last, and he will soon have a decision to make about his future.

 

Janna's quest is a mad romp that takes you round the Isle of Man following the clues and the characters as they struggle to fulfil their individual goals and desires.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Graham Hamer
• Release date: Apr 7, 2021
• ISBN: 9781393061199

Book preview

CHAPTER ONE

The man yawned. He was bored, but he checked the time, made notes, and watched anyway. That’s what he was paid for. On the other side of the country road, the woman pulled into the driveway and came to a halt in front of the large mock-Georgian house. She stepped out of her Land Rover Discovery, kicked off her calf-length riding boots at the front door and stepped inside. She was the living embodiment of the dream girl next door. Tawny shoulder-length hair, small but impeccably-rounded breasts, slender body, and an arse that you’d be happy to spend a few moments on with a bottle of massage oil. While not outstanding, her face was pretty and made you want to get closer for a good look. She wasn’t just your average Anglo-Celtic lady. Full lips, neat turned up nose, and clear ice-blue eyes. Dick Cowley could easily have been attracted to Gabrielle. He liked the look of her and would have been happy to get into her panties. He’d not been near his stoical wife, Beryl, for over five years and now took refuge in girls provided by Jimmy Joyce, a former copper who ran the island’s only escort agency. There was a correlation, Dick felt, between the number of days since a man last had sex, and the price he was willing to pay to get into a woman’s knickers. Dick liked the fact that Jimmy gave him a good discount for being a regular client. Or maybe it was because he wanted to be sure that the police left him alone to get on and run his business.

But while Dick drooled over Gabrielle, he knew deep down that she would only get him excited for one session or two because Dick enjoyed variety. They didn’t need to be exotic - just have a good body and show a bit of enthusiasm while he screwed them. Unlike Beryl who he couldn’t recall ever showing enthusiasm once the boys were born. Mind you, he might have been a little bit to blame for that. On the surface, everything had been good for a few years but Dick Cowley’s one big weakness was other women. Beryl knew this, never tried to tame him, and generally turned a blind eye, provided he was discreet. But one night, discretion went out of the window and he slept with her younger sister, Linda. There are some things you just don’t do in life and your wife’s sister is one of them. It was an unwritten but sensible rule of life. Another unwritten rule and again, a sensible one, was don’t tell your big sister you’ve shagged her old man. Linda did exactly that and it cost her a few tufts of hair and two enamels in a vicious cat fight not seen this side of Taylor Swift and Kim Kardashian. Ever since then, Beryl had kept herself to herself in bed. Which, for Dick Cowley, was actually a bit of a relief. He didn’t have to pretend he was enjoying it any more.

Gabrielle, who had just entered the house over the road, was a perfect fit for one of Dick’s favourite daydreams - the one about being an English aristocrat. She would be a maid with a short black skirt, and her tight white panties would flash as she bent over to serve him breakfast in bed. She would cook his food, wash his dirty laundry, and take care of his needs when he wasn’t busy with one of a string of bawdy actresses and racy rock stars who came to the manor house at weekends to enjoy the shooting, the food, the wine, and the sex. That was Dick’s favourite daydream. He had others.

Dick wanted sex with Gabrielle because she was unattainable and she had a smile that could sell Viagra to a lesbian. Sex was the thing on most men's minds, and Gabrielle occupied a fair proportion of his thoughts this fine summer day on the Isle of Man. He looked up at the window of the master bedroom and wondered whether they’d got to the juicy stage yet, or whether they’d wasted time slobbering over each other when she’d stepped into the house. His mind drifted to the hot little primary school teacher that Jimmy Joyce had provided last week. Cute as all hell. Red-haired and covered in so many freckles she looked like she’d spent a month in Ibiza sunbathing under a tea strainer. It was little things like that which stirred Sergeant Dick Cowley’s loins.

He dragged on his roll-up cigarette then reached out of the open car window and tapped off the ash. Having started, he couldn’t stop himself now from remembering the little red-head. Teacher or not, she totally understood the full commercial potential of her exceptionally well-engineered body. And she was shrewd enough to know that her marketability relied upon her innocent cutie-pie looks. It was a role that she played to perfection. Mind you, so she should, being surrounded by young school children all day at work. She had tied her blazing hair in bunches that stuck out from either side of her head like nodding antennas. Her tight, white blouse was cut so low, Dick had licked his lips and commented that if it was cut any lower, she’d be barefoot.

The school teacher had giggled, exposing more than just the swell of her breasts – a lot more. Her tiny black micro skirt was not much wider than a belt, thought that soon came off. Topped off with white socks and high heels, she was Dick’s ultimate fantasy at the moment. He was so bloody envious of the church pastor over the road who seemed to spend time with a different woman almost every day. Except, that is, for Gabrielle, who was with him now. She was a regular visitor.

Inside the house, Brian Shuttleworth hung his shirt on a wooden hanger with the precision of a Savile Row tailor. His trousers followed; the creases sharp enough to cut paper. The naked lady on his bed smiled at him. You are so OCD Brian. You need to lighten up a little.

There’s nothing wrong with being neat and tidy, he said. Being orderly and systematic leads to other good habits like being clean and virtuous.

Gabrielle laughed. Her ice-blue eyes crinkled in the corners. Many people would think that what you and I are about to do is not very virtuous - particularly considering what you preach to others.

Never mind other people, what do you think?

I think God intended us to be together, Brian. He can see into our hearts, and knows that we want only what He wants. I believe that He has blessed our union.

And now you’re taking the piss. Brian laughed. If there was a God, I don’t think He would approve of any of our activities, neither evangelical nor narcotic. He dropped his briefs and folded them on the chair, then he sat on the bed with his back to Gabrielle and eased off his socks. Those, too, he straightened and folded to join his briefs.

When he turned round, the lady smiled. My word, Brian, it looks like you are ready. Have you been saving that for me? If so, come and let me take a closer look.

Brian returned the smile. When a woman showed that much hunger, there was no point serving her a large entrée. Might as well get straight down to the main course. He leaned towards her and ran his fingers up the soft flesh of her inner thigh until they reached the willing folds of her womanhood. He lingered there a moment, teasing her, then slid onto the bed, slipped his erect manhood inside her, and revelled in her warm moisture.

Sex with thirty-year-old Gabrielle was always a mad romp, leaving the bed looking like the tail end of a hurricane had swept through the room. But that was okay. Brian Shuttleworth could sort it out while his lover was in the shower. He wished it was possible to have sex without messing things up, but the only way to do that would be to get down onto the floor and, careful though he was, who knows what germs lurked there? As he had fallen into the lady’s waiting arms, and wallowed in her secret, humid places, he had thanked the rulers of the universe, whoever they might be, for their merciful bounty. Everything was going along well in Brian Shuttleworth’s world. Well, almost everything.

Later, when both had fulfilled their basic urges and quenched the fires of passion, when the bed had been remade with fresh sheets and the old ones folded and placed into the wash basket, when they had pushed the windows wide open to change the air and remove the smell of perspiring bodies and damp sex, and when they were showered and dressed, Brian and Gabrielle sat in the living room facing each other across a polished coffee table. Not a finger mark in sight. Brian had placed a delicate cup of coffee in front of each of them, the pattern in each saucer positioned so that all the stripes faced the right way.

You look a bit stressed, Gabrielle said. The sex was great as usual, but I had a feeling something was troubling you.

He stared at his coffee without answering.

Come on, Brian, out with it. What’s bugging you? Is it us?

He lifted his head straight away, a startled look on his face. Good Lord no, everything is fine. We get on just great together and the business is doing well. We turned over more than £56,000 last week. About 50% of that is pure profit. If we keep going like this, we’ll corner the whole market by the end of next year.

So what’s troubling you?

He fumbled for his words. I’m getting feedback from the customers, Gabrielle. They don’t like that your sister keeps hitting on them after each meeting with all that stuff about the seals. They just want to come here, get what they came for at the end of the session, and leave exhilarated, both inside and out. When she stands in the doorway and gets into their faces on the way out, she’s harming our image as a happy place - a place where it’s easy to part with your money because you know it takes you where you want to be. Cornerstone Evangelical Church has built a solid reputation and, as its pastor, it’s down to me to protect it - and to protect our incomes.

I’ll talk to her, Gabrielle said. I can’t stop her doing her thing, Brian. A lot of the time, she’s out of touch with reality, but she knows too much about us for me to forbid her from coming. I’ll talk to her again and see if she’ll back off a bit.

And now you want me to go to Heysham again on the boat. What’s that all about?

Like I told you before, it’s a favour. It’s helping her alter an embarrassing actuality and to lay a false trail.

For what?

That doesn’t matter. You know my sister’s problems as well as I do. She has certain pathological conditions that she cannot control. The medications help, but they still leave her unbalanced. We need her to be content and at peace so we can continue doing what we do unhindered. You taking the trip to Heysham and back is no big deal. It reassures her, and it’s harmless enough, isn’t it?

I think so. I just don’t understand it.

Any form of pathological behaviour is difficult to understand, Brian. Just accept that, while we keep her sweet, my sister is quite harmless and is no threat to our business.

And if she becomes a threat?

Gabrielle paused a moment and whispered, Then I’ll take care of it, okay?

CHAPTER TWO

August, and the long, dry summer had turned the grass brown, and scorched the soil to a hard crust. Sandy Legg bent low as she placed a simple bouquet of pure white lilies on the grave. Janna, her daughter, busied herself with a household spray and cleaning cloths, making the marble headstone shine. Janna was fourteen, going on twenty-four. She was not only intellectually advanced, she was tall and athletic, and early pubescence meant that she was often mistaken for a sixteen- or seventeen-year-old. I always get sad and maudlin when we come here, she said, polishing the engraved name with her cuff. She straightened up, stood next to her mother, and read from the headstone. Rolien van der Laan, she whispered. Aunt Rolien would have been thirty-nine this year. Just a year younger than you, Mum.

I know, Janna. It’s been two years now. You were only twelve when she died. How much do you remember of her before that? When you were much younger.

Most everything, I think. I remember as a kiddie being struck by the fact that she was tall and beautiful with a mane of red hair.

Do you remember the first time you met her?

Only vaguely, though she told me the story more than once before she died. Seems you and Dad took me to the Royal Bay Hotel on Onchan Head. Rolien recognised you from when you were in The Netherlands and came across to speak to you.

Yeah, and you said, Hello, I’m Janna. I’m four-and-a-half today and I’ve just had a birthday party with my friends.

Janna laughed. And it seems Aunt Rolien said, That’s nice. Did you invite all your friends to your four-and-a-half birthday? and I replied, Not all of them, just my Mummy and my Daddy. And then I had to go home because you and Dad wanted a bit of adult time with a bottle of Irish whiskey and some grown up food.

Sandy laughed. The babysitter picked you up and took you back to the house because it was past your bed time.

Yeah, I was only a snot-nosed kid.

Still are.

Janna bumped Sandy with her shoulder. She was already almost as tall as her mother, though there were few other similarities. In her younger years, Sandy Legg had been special. She was sexy, and positive-charged energy oozed from every delicate pore of her curvaceous body. She had been the sort of young lady who didn't have to do anything special to look sexy. She just was sexy. Now, at the age of forty, with her abundant dark hair styled into wispy waves that fanned out and created a light, soft, relaxed effect, she had developed into the sort of middle-aged beauty who made other women steer their husbands across the street because, having set eyes on her, they themselves felt like impostors to womanhood. Sandy Legg was comfortable in her own skin, and it showed. In her own way, her daughter was fast heading in the same direction.

Janna had inherited her father’s genes. Sean Legg was a big guy. Not fat, just big in every sense of the word - including his character. Janna had inherited that too. She didn’t dominate - she just filled empty spaces with her boundless energy and good humour. And, unknown to most people, thanks to Rolien van der Laan’s generosity, Janna was worth many times more than her parents. Sandy and Sean Legg were hardly standing on poverty’s doorstep but, two years earlier, at the age of twelve, Janna had inherited half of Rolien’s vast property portfolio.

Rolien van der Laan had been blessed with her mother's stunning good looks and her father's nose for a sound business deal, and she hadn’t been averse to using either asset to increase the financial stability that had been dropped into her lap when a road accident had left her alone in the world. While Rolien had been striking and elegant, she had also been sassy and street-wise. The properties she left behind when she had been murdered two years earlier were worth many millions. The rental incomes alone were eye-watering.

I’ve not yet got to grips with why Rolien left me half of her estate, Janna said. Just because I said hello to her, how did that make me so different?

It’s because you were the first friendly face she came across on the island, and she never forgot. She came over here from The Netherlands to see if she could exploit the island’s low taxes. A couple of days after she arrived, there was a massive scare - some lunatics running round with biological weapons. Rolien and a guy called Oddball got some of the chemical stuff on them and were quarantined together in one of the rooms at the Royal Bay Hotel. They were both sure they were going to die and Rolien had no family. She decided she had an affinity with you because you were open and trusting and, in your innocence, so willing to include her into your young life without question. She hoped that her money would help you to live a long, happy life. Sandy wiped away a tear that filled her eye. Rolien and I had some issues while I was in The Netherlands, but we soon patched them up when we met again over here. As you know, she became a very dear friend to all of us.

And to me too, a voice said, from behind them.

Sandy and Janna wheeled round and found themselves face to face with a tall, powerful figure with a resolute look on his face that summed up what most people needed to know about him. A touch of grey in his hair said he was in his mid-forties. Sandy grinned from ear to ear. Bloody hell, Oddball. Long time, no see.

Likewise, Sandy. He looked at Janna. And this is?

Who do you think? Sandy asked.

Oddball’s brow creased. Can’t be Janna. She’s only thirteen or fourteen."

Janna chuckled. Fourteen, which just happens to be my age. Are you the Oddball who got the other half of Aunt Rolien’s estate?

Well, I guess that’s one way to look at it, Oddball said. I’m the Oddball who would have been much happier if Rolien had lived to enjoy her wealth. Anyway, how many Oddballs do you know?

One now, Janna said, but my parents have often talked about you. She held out her hand for Oddball to shake. Nice to meet you at last. I’ve heard so much about you.

All good, I hope, Oddball said.

Oh yes, all good. But lots of big holes in the storyline. You’re quite the enigma it seems.

Sandy winked at Oddball. Sharp as a bloody razor, Oddball. You need to watch what you say when this one is within earshot.

Oddball smiled. Give me a few seconds and we can chat more. He crouched beside Rolien’s grave, laid a matching bouquet of white lilies next to Sandy’s, and rested his other hand the headstone, deep in thought. All three were silent for a moment then Oddball said, You’d never guess from our choice of flowers that Rolien loved lilies would you? he chuckled. Bless her, she was quite a lady. I miss her.

We all do, Sandy said. Wiped out by a bloody lunatic well before her time. And the lunatic got away.

Oddball straightened up and glanced around. He lowered his voice. You don’t want to believe everything you hear or read, Sandy. The lunatic lasted less than twenty-four hours after we found out who he was.

What happened to him?

He had an accident with several kilos of high explosives, out in the Atlantic. But keep that to yourself, it’s not generally known.

Thank God for that. We’d always assumed he got away.

Sometimes we can’t publicise the things we do.

Do you blow people up for a living then? Janna asked.

Told you to watch what you said when this one’s around, Sandy said with a grin.

It was just a question, that’s all, Janna said. If you don’t ask questions, you don’t get to learn anything. So go on then, Mister Oddball, do you blow people up for a living?

It’s not Mister Oddball. It’s just Oddball, he said.

You just dodged the question, Janna said with a chuckle. Is that what you do? Blow people up?

Oddball shook his head, but was smiling anyway. I work for Her Majesty’s Security Forces, so I do a lot of stuff we don’t tell people about.

You’re a secret agent then?

Can’t be too secret if your mum knows what I do.

But you blow people up?

Only if necessary.

Christ, you are a secret agent then, aren’t you? I’ve got a use for you. I’m planning writing a short story for the school magazine. Maybe if I have an authentic source like you, I can even develop it into a proper novella. You can tell me some secret agent stuff, and I could turn it into a plot. She paused. Oh, that’s a big pretty please, if you don’t mind, thank you very much. How long are you over for?

A week. I was overdue some leave and I’m friendly with a police sergeant over here, so thought we could spend a bit of time together. Turns out she’s booked on a training course in Hendon for most of this week, so I’m kicking my heels for a few days till she gets back. I should have checked before I came over. But I would have come anyway, it being Rolien’s day.

Who’s the sergeant then? Sandy asked. I know a lot of the coppers over here.

Detective Sergeant Sandi Watson. That’s Sandi-with-an-I, not Sandy-with-a-Y, by the way.

Good looking girl. Late twenties. Unusual eyes?

That’s her.

I’ve bumped into her a few times. Nice girl.

I think so too.

So you’ve been able to move on with life? Sandy asked. She knew how close Oddball and Rolien had become before her death.

No choice, is there? I shall never ever forget Rolien, but I’ve hit lucky with Sandi. She’s a good lady. We get on well.

But you don’t live over here? Janna asked.

No. I live in London. Sandi and I get together whenever we can. It’s okay. We’re comfortable with that. So what’s this about writing a story for the school magazine then?

Before Janna could answer, her mother checked her watch. Sorry to interrupt the flow guys, but I need to get back to St John’s soon. Sean and I are on an early plane to Dublin in the morning and I’ve some packing to do first.

Janna looked at Oddball and winked. And they’re dumping their poor little kid on the next-door neighbours while they gallivant around the Emerald Isle. Outrageous, isn’t it?

Sandy laughed. "Poor little Orphan Annie here didn’t