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    Dastardly Murder in the East(ern Region)

    A cautionary tale by Andy Wyman

    It was a cold, bitter night and felt as if the Arctic Circle had moved South. The streets were empty and people sensed something was going to happen. The locals were all at home, doors locked and bolted, security cameras scanning and dogs unsettled. Abingdon was no place for the faint hearted on a normal Saturday night. But this was no normal Saturday night. Even the pubs stood quiet and when I entered the Broad Face Pub the landlord stared straight at me. It was a look that said, “Why us? We don't want trouble.”

    But trouble was written all over me and he knew it. As I looked around the solitary customer slipped away through a back entrance.

    “Scotch, neat and make it a double,” I said. “ No make it a treble. And I need information. I'm looking for Annie's Place.”

    He gestured to a place you could see through the window. A large building standing next to the Thames. The river looked bleak and just about ready to freeze over. I downed the drink and made my way over. Huddled outside the entrance to Annie's was a small group and within minutes there were about fifty more. The door opened and we all went inside. I was asked if I was a member and I mumbled yes. The group all seemed to know each other and then it happened. One by one they all started to undress. I think the leader of the group, a moll named Sandra, had given the signal. I joined in reluctantly and straight away I noticed that none of them were carrying. Except two, who later I found were called El Presidente (aka Mark the Bass) and Andy the Snapper. And they were carrying Canons... but the kind that only cause reputational damage. Sandra spoke again and seemed to refer to the group as the BN gang. Then the room went silent as the oddest looking six hombres entered. They were known and feared throughout Oxfordshire and the Cotswolds as the Oxford Imps and the bulges under their jackets showed they certainly were carrying and nothing to do with being pleased to see us. There was no way this lot were going to be undressing and we were sat naked and vulnerable.

    Their leader, a nasty looking guy, came straight out with it. “There's gonna be one less punk in this room tonight.” I've been around the gang scene for years but even I felt a shiver down my spine. These guys mean business. The leader looked up meaningfully at a sofa that had been winched up high above the crowd.

    At that point Sandra sat and the BN gang followed her lead. I looked down at the table in front of me and there was a sight to spook anyone. It was a placemat with two feet drawn on it. Attached to one of the big toes was a medical tag...... and it had my name on it. The lights went out and there was a loud crash and scream. When the light returned the sofa had fallen and a guy who I later found was called Clark was crushed horribly underneath with his legs turned at an unnatural angle.

    The room fell silent and then the gang leader taunted us. “You guys just relax now and eat your Moroccan style 3 course meal and we're going to come round to your tables for a …..... little chat.”

    They were clearly trying to intimidate us with their calm “who cares” attitude. Nasty characters such as Wilfred Copperbottom, who laughingly claimed to be some sort of bean magnate and Davis the androgynous butler came round and actually invited us to question their motives. They all claimed their innocence, none more so than an odd chap called Jasper. There was also an artist and a musician. At the end of the meal Mr Big, the leader, scoffingly invited us to write down our thoughts as to who killed Clark and why. We had heard stories during the evening of changed wills, secret affairs and scorned lovers but I was none the wiser. But I'd survived the evening after infiltrating two of Britain's most notorious gangs.

    Sandra, the BN gang leader, then told us that the violence would not end. She said they had organised what she euphemistically called, naked dining events, trips on canal boats, a quiz night and a visit to a gin distillery. What sort of sick group choose to organise murders whilst socialising? I shuddered to think how poor souls will suffer at these. Unless of course I get my report back to Scotland Yard.

    If you want to help infiltrate this gang you can check their activities on the secret BN website under the 'Events' tab.... but take care folks.

    Oh, and by the way. It was Jasper who did it. At least that's what Mr Big said.

     

     

     




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