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Heap & Jones Volume 1

by J.J. Knight

290 pages; quality trade paperback (softcover); catalogue #04-0221; ISBN 1-4120-2393-9; US$24.50, C$27.75, EUR20.00, £14.00

21st Century crime fighting will never be the same again.

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about the book      about the author      excerpt      catalogue info

About the Book Heap & Jones is a comedy crime caper like no other. In the new Millenium, crime in Britain is soaring out of control, so much so, that the divisional police force is struggling to cope with the relentless task of solving crime that is being committed on the streets of Britain and capturing these criminals, who are dedicated in committing these mindless acts. Chief Superintendent Jenkins, Divisional head of the Northern Province of London enlists the help of a psychic investigator, Mr. Jones and assigns him to work with Detective Inspector Heap. With opposing beliefs constantly hampering the two men from working in harmony as Mr. Jones is a self styled new age psychic guru, where as Detective Inspector Heap is a strong believer in his religious faith and a true upholder of the law. The two set out to solve the mystery with hilarious consequences. Their trail leads them chasing a powerful dark angel who uses men by rewarding them by fulfilling their earthly desires, in return, she uses their failings to seek power and glory in a media ruled world. Heap's old school of thought intertwines with Jones's unconventional and esoteric way of thinking to solve the mystery once and for all, or have they? Unbeknownst to Mr. Jones, Detective Inspector Heap is no stranger to the secretive, shadowy world of the mysterious. His mission to decipher the case is not the only mystery he has to solve.

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About the Author J.J. Knight, born in London, England, has been a writer, actor and musician for the last twenty years and has a keen interest in psychology, spirituality and the performing arts. Specialising in comedy, J.J. Knight's brand of reflecting inner city life, fantasy and the downright rediculous is earning a reputation which is gaining momentum and attention.

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Excerpt

"Now remember, as before I will do all the talking and you keep quite, as I do not want you interfering. He is one of my best informers, so he has some of the hottest information on the streets. Understood."

"Your wish is my command."

"Stop saying that, it just annoys me."

Heap calmly reminds Jones.

"Your wish is my command, your wish is my command, your wish is my command."

Heap to exhausted to warrant a response leaves his car and makes his way inside the Fox and Chickens pub. Jones smiles faintly as even he to is a little weary of following Heap's excessive orders, he exits the car and wonders leisurely into the pub. This medium size establishment is mainly filled with older, more pensionable drinkers and as Heap and Jones make their way through the smoke filled atmosphere towards the bar, overtones of a sixties tune playing in the background as well as the chatter of old war stories and premiership football reverberate around the pub. The two men approach the bar cautiously, whilst Heap looks around to see if he can find his informant. Jones, more use to this kind of environment savours the ambience, which seemingly, gives him a lift, which energises him so much, he becomes intoxicated with excitement. He looks at Heap and offers.

"What would you like?"

"Thanks, I do not drink, while I am on duty."

"Oh go on, a small one won't hurt."

"Thanks really."

"Oh go on."

Heap tired of Jones insistence, refrains from displaying any hostility as deep down he is deeply touched by Jones offer of a drink.

"Suite yourself."

Jones remarks abruptly, pleased that Heap had refused, as he did not want to spend valuable drinking money on somebody else. Jones turns to the tall brunette behind the bar.

"I will have a large whisky please."

The barmaid takes an empty glass and pours a measure of whiskey into it. She turns to Jones.

"Would you like ice in the whisky."

"Yea, go on."

Heap looks round for his informer, while the barmaid returns with the drink.

"That will be £3.10."

Jones picks up the whiskey pleased at last he is to have alcohol entering his system and such is his excitement, he swallows the whole lot in one go. Heap, startled by Jones's drinking habit, sees him licking his lips with pure pleasure as Jones is refreshed and rejuvenated by his drink. Heap asks.

"Are you going to pay for that?"

Jones looks sheepishly at Heap.

"I've seemed to have left my wallet at home. You see Chief Superintendent Jenkins, needed my services immediately and you know how it is; I was in such a rush. I forgot my wallet."

Heap nods with displeasure as the barmaid is waiting for some payment; he takes out a ten-pound note from his wallet and hands over to her. As soon as he does, Jones quickly thrusts his empty glass back to the barmaid and asks for a refill. Heap looks on helplessly.

"Don't you think you had enough?"

"I haven't even started yet."

Heap already in an environment full of drunkards and nothing appals him the most is seeing people intoxicated by alcohol, starts to feel uncomfortable as the last thing he wants is for Jones to be legless.

"Make that's your last one and if you step out of line again, I swear to God, I'll throw you in jail myself."

Jones is displeased by the harsh comments from Heap and reminds him that life is not about work.

"A man is entitled to have pleasures at some time during the day. It makes life worth living. But then again you would not know about that."

"In your case, you want pleasure all day long."

"What is wrong with that?"

As Heap sees this as another confrontation, for which he has not the energy or inclination to continue, he pauses his verbal scrap with Jones and looks round for his informant. As he looks into the distant corner of the pub, he sees him sitting solitarily seated brooding over his pint of bitter. Relieved at seeing him, he orders Jones to follow him.

"Come on, I have just seen my informant, sitting over there. Now remember, not a word, let me do the talking."

The two men make their way over to the informant, Mick, who is for someone in his late twenties, looks at least twenty years older than he really is. His thick, scruffy, bearded appearance and torn clothing reflects the battle scares of living life as an informer. The two men approach Mick's table and sit beside this dishevelled man. Mick, never to one for welcoming his guests, greets Heap with a grunt, but looks suspiciously at Jones. He asks Heap in his alcohol stained gravely voice.

"Who's he?"

"This is Mr. Jones and he is here just to observe. So do not worry, everything you will say will be in the strictest confidence."

Mick looks up and down at Jones as he senses that he is someone not to be trusted, despite assurances given by Heap that Jones is a witness to the proceedings. Mick, not entirely trusting Jones continues to look at him,

"Are you filth?"

Jones sees Heap's informant uncooperative behaviour, decides to have a little fun with him.

"At least I had a wash today."

Heap becomes agitated, as he does not Jones to jeopardise, the situation that they're in. He looks sharply at Jones.

"Sshh, keep quiet."

He turns to Mick in an apologising and calming tone of voice.

"Mick what have you got for me."

Jones abruptly interrupts.

"Head lice for starters."

Heap further agitated, looks angrily at Jones.

"Will you shut up!"

Jones looks into the air, as he is disappointed that Heap does not share his sense of humour. Heap sees that Jones is in an irritating mood once again and pushes Mick for information, before he too becomes agitated with Jones.

"So Mick, what have you got for me, I hear that you have some hot information."

"Yea, I can tell you, for a small fee, the usual price."

Heap reaches into his pocket to take out his wallet and places a twenty-pound note on the table, in front of Mick. He looks round to see if anybody is looking and quickly takes the note, which he places it into his pocket. Jones looks in horror with such a transaction. Mick leans forward slowly towards Heap and begins to whisper gently.

"I tell you, something big is going down. It may be the biggest thing you have ever handled."

Heap listens intensely.

"Go on."

Heap inquisitively enquires. Mick falls silent, not revealing his information to quickly as he knows that the information that he has is worth a lot of money. Heap notices that Mick has silenced himself and detects that he requires further payment as he sees Mick's eyes squarely focusing on the blank table in front of him. Heap once again takes out his wallet and places a further twenty pounds on the table. Mick reaches out and places the twenty-pound note into his pocket, slightly happier as he knows that information will make him a fortune. He looks up at Heap and says.

"I tell you, there will a crime spree that you have never experienced before. Men are now being recruited as we speak to commit relentless crime. The streets will never be safe."

Heap becomes excited with such revelations and presses Mick for more information.

"Yea and!"

Mick remains silent and once again, looks deeply at the table. Heap sensing that he requires further payment once again, places another twenty-pound note on the table. Jones becomes rather surprised with the generosity Heap is showing. He turns to Heap.

"I have some information."

Heap detects that Jones is up to his usual tricks, dismisses and instantly ignores his request. A silence hangs over the three men as both Mick and Jones eagerly wait for a hand out from Heap. Heap takes another twenty-pound note from his wallet and places it carefully on the table, making sure that Mick takes the money and not Jones. Mick satisfied with his payments so far, decides to tell Heap the full story. Heap listens on intensely.

"All I know is that somebody has moved into the area and they are taking' over. In fact I can tell you there's going to be a raid on a betting shop down the road from here at lunchtime tomorrow. That's all I know."

"Are you sure that's all you know?

"Yea, for now. Have I ever let you down?"

"So far you have given me reliable information in the past. I just hope you are right."

Jones feeling slightly left out begins to rub his throat overtly at Heap.

"All this hard work is making me thirsty."

Heap now relieved that the informal meeting is over; feels satisfied that he has the hot information that he requires. He feels comforted as the pressure begins to recede and with this newfound information, he can start to tackle to prevent the crime that is about to occur the next day. He sees Jones, still rubbing his throat, dropping heavy hints, that he requires a drink and although reluctant, he offers to buy the two men a drink.

"I suppose I will have to buy this round then."

"You know I had to leave in a hurry and I forgot my wallet, you know the story."

"Yes, yes I know the story. What would you like to drink Mick?"

"A pint of Best, mate."

Heap unenthusiastic of the thoughts of spending more money as he looks into his wallet seeing the gaping hole that is beginning to show, reluctantly gets up and makes his way towards the bar. Mick and Jones are left together, eyeballing each other out, but Mick curiosity got the better of him and begins to precede asking questions to find out who this mystery person sitting next to him really is.

"So who are you then?"

"I am simply known as Mr. Jones, a psychic investigator."

"Are you having a laugh?"

"My dear friend I do not joke on matters on mystical issues."

"You're winding me up."

"I have been brought in to help and assist Detective Inspector Heap with his enquiries."

Mick not altogether convinced by what Jones is saying decides to test out for himself, the true powers that Jones might have.

"If you are psychic, that means that you can predict the future."

"That is correct. Us chosen ones can see into the future."

Mick rubs his hands in glee and begins the test.

"Alright then, what are the winning lottery numbers for next week?"

Jones, not one for displaying his secretive talents, feels uneasy at the thought of revealing numbers to someone who is irresponsible and would easily squander the winnings, refusing point blank to give him any numbers. He stares into the eyes of Mick who sees that Jones is not cooperating fully with his request. Mick in desperation takes out a twenty-pound note and places it on the table underneath Jones's nose. Jones sees the note being pushed towards him pauses for a moment as he tries to figure out a response to this offensive gesture. Jones smiles happily and takes the note and places it into his pocket.

"The winning numbers are."

Mick excited at the thoughts of being a lottery winner, takes out an old betting slip from his pocket and eagerly awaits the winning numbers.

"Alright then, what are they?"

"They are, 1, 12, 34, 35, 42 and 72."

Mick excited with his lottery numbers, decides to test out further Jones ability.

"That's great, thanks. I don't suppose you know, who's going to win the Grand National."

Jones pauses for a moment, feeling that he has given Mick enough as it is. He sees Mick pressing him for an answer. Jones gives in to the relentless pressure, but at a cost.

"I can tell you for a small fee, the usual price."

Mick eager to hear Jones's answer listens intensely.

"I can tell you the winning horse is Red Rummy."

Mick throws a punch in the air as he sure feels now that he is set to become a multimillionaire in the not too distant future. Not satisfied with this inside information, he feels that one more insight should be enough to secure his place in the millionaires club. He quickly takes out a twenty-pound note and gives to Jones.

"Last one, I promise. Could you tell me who will win the English football cup next year."

"You really are testing my powers this time."

Jones taunts Mick.

"Oh go on, you are good at this."

Jones breathes heavily and closes his eyes,

"Yes I see it now, Real Madrid will beat Arsenal, five, nil."

"You're a life saver"

As Mick's excitement is starting to take over, he jumps up and down in exhilaration. Jones is pleased to see such a response, but remains humbled and calm at providing such a service.

"Listen I want you to tell Heap I have got to go, If I have got any more information I will call him."

"I will pass on your remarks."

Mick gets up and makes a hastily retreat out of the pub while Heap sees Mick leaving as he comes back with the drinks with a packet of peanuts.

"Where did Mick go?"

"I think he wanted to go to the bookies before they shut, to place a bet, or before they get robbed tomorrow."

Heap not entirely convinced that Jones is telling the truth; pauses as he becomes worried that Jones might of said something out of hand, but without proof, he gives Jones the benefit of the doubt.

"Did you say anything to him? The last thing I want you to do is to frighten him off."

"Do not worry, he said he will be in touch soon."

"Well I hope so."

Heap sits down handing the glass of whiskey in the process to Jones and begins to open his packet of peanuts.

"Would you like a nut?"

"No thanks, I have got two of my own."

"No, I meant peanut."

Jones takes the bag of peanuts and pours the whole contents down his mouth. Heap looks on despondently.

"I said would you like a nut, not the whole bag."

"Sorry you should have been more clear."

"Your psychic, you're supposed to know about these things. I suppose I will have to drink this pint of Best that I bought for Mick then."

Jones quickly reaches over and takes the pint of Best from Heaps hand.

"Not while you're on duty remember."

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Catalogue Information

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