Percy’s Posse
The Chitley Chronicles tell of the people of Chitley, a tranquil, small, insignificant southern town where very little ever happens and where, with passing years, the population, like the town itself, is becoming older and increasingly run down.
The main plot of the first tale, Percy’s Posse, revolves around the exploits of retired investigative journalist, Didya Toombs.
The life of an investigative journalist was not without risk, as their subjects often resorted to extreme measures to avoid exposure. Along with injunctions and threats of legal action, Didya himself had received offers of cash to ditch a story more than once, been beaten up twice and received death threats throughout his career.
…and his friend, grumpy octogenarian, Percy,
With a click, followed by a low mechanical whirring sound, the garage door slowly rolls up, revealing the outside world in all its glory. He turns the ignition key, twists the throttle fully open and roars out (the manual said the scooter was capable of 8 miles per hour on the flat). As the garage door closes behind him, Percy Hatchem, eighty-six year old widower of nearly sound mind and body heads out to face another day of heady fun and excitement.
Solely on the basis of an overheard conversation, the pair come to the conclusion that the local council’s decision to demolish The Centre, an oasis of tranquility for the poor, old and disadvantaged of the area, may well have been influenced through bribery and corruption. So, with the help of Percy’s new friends, a gang of teenaged skateboarders, they set out to get to the truth, inadvertently lighting the fuse for a chain of events, including the need to neutralise a professional hitman who kidnapped Percy,coming to a climactic conclusion on the clifftops just outside of town.
They all stood mesmerised, following the truck’s trajectory as it careered towards them. But the driver was fighting back and momentarily seemed to be winning, turning the wheel and steering along the face of the slope, like a skier slowing his run. Alas, the turn was too sharp and, just as it looked as if they would make it, the truck tipped precariously up on two wheels. It just might possibly have returned safely to solid ground had the driver not then turned the steering wheel in a misguided attempt to regain control. That was the final straw. The truck balanced for a split second before tipping on its side and rolling over and over, once again in the direction of the group.
In a sub-plot, Didya is unaware that another assassin has been dispatched to silence him before he can make public his doubts on the ‘accidental’ death of a fellow investigative journey. Their eventual coming together is not how Didya would have chosen to spend his evening.
“Sadly for you my friend, that was the painless option. Plan B is messier and decidedly more painful.” So saying, he reached inside his jacket and drew from a sheath strapped under his armpit, a large and rather unpleasant looking knife, its blade glinting in the light from above the bins. Didya gulped, grasping his brolly more firmly.
All’s well that ends well, but for some of Chitley’s residents, tranquility is a thing of the past.