In Pursuit

To destroy a man’s surgery was one thing, to run off with his wife was another but to steal a man’s Tiptree Strawberry jam was simply and literally beyond the pale. The pale being the small fence-like structure made of wooden stakes Melvyn had constructed more for show than to actually keep anyone or anything out, it added, Melvyn had thought, a certain bomohish rusticity to the ambience.

A saddened Melvyn cleared the remains of various jars of herb and unguents off his precious chair, slumped down and allowed himself a few tears. Melvyn was not by nature a man who easily broke down, but it was a lot to take in all at once and he needed to release the emotion which had built up ever since he saw the devastation, and realised that his wife was missing.

But beyond the sadness Melvyn was mad, more than that he was angry. He rallied his emotions, pegged them in order and started to get serious about the business of sorting things out. Melvyn had only been married a few short weeks, and had his strawberry jam for only two, and strawberry jam was very difficult to get hold of especially the Tiptree English strawberry jam which comes all the way from a small village in the heart of East Anglia, England. It was quite unthinkable that someone or something had been at his strawberry jam, and had taken his wife off.

Amidst all the chaos and debris a tell-tale thumbprint, left on a shard of a dark brown smoked earthenware jar, was a big clue, especially one that had no little swirls and whirls on it, and Melvyn knew why there were no little whirls on the thumbprint. Only human beings had thumbprints with swirls and whirls, or friction ridges, as some people called them, therefore no friction ridges ergo not human. Though Melvyn was not familiar with the finer details of Crime Scene Investigation he had enough basic insight to know when a thumb print belonged to a human or djinn, and this one definitely belonged to something not human and quite possibly a djinn. The other clue, which directly indicated a djinn at work, was the total absence of all those bottles of tonic Melvyn had put aside for djinns in general, but also one djinn in particular - Ali.

There was a familiar saying among bomohs – ‘never trust a djinn with a smile, better put distance between – at least a mile’, which basically meant that djinns were trustworthy only up to a certain point and a smile does not always mean they are friendly, especially one you call your friend. Melvyn had known Ali for number of years now, and although Ali had never done anything against Melvyn personally, Melvyn was well aware that Ali was constantly wearing a mask to his true feelings and intents, it was the way of djinn and branded into their very nature by fire and brimstone. So to comprehend that Ali was somehow involved in his wife’s abduction did not surprise Melvyn, just saddened him a little more.

“They went thataway”. A small crackly voice broke into Melvyn’s thoughts. “Pardon, who said that” said a cautious Melvyn being more polite than he felt. “I said they went - thataway” said a small voice belonging to a small thin person reaching up to Melvyn’s knee, and at the moment very tempted to head-but it. “I’ve always wanted to say that” said a little man “There through the back of the kampung, there were three of them, a large fella, djinn I think, and two smaller, though also large fellas, not sure what they were, carrying a shouty moaning woman and lots of jars.”

Looking down Melvyn saw a Geek. For some genetic reason Geeks always looked like seventeen year boys with acne, but smaller, even the females. They were slender, about two feet tall, and must have had a picture in their attics which kept them permanently ugly. Geeks were rarely seen these days, they tended to hide themselves away and keep themselves amused with the oddest of things, but sometimes they had the most profound and in-depth knowledge about one subject, and one subject only, making them experts in their field but not particularly nice beings as their knowledge made them a bit touchy, and violent at times. As the Geek spoke Melvyn was reminded ‘beware of Geeks bringing gifts’. It was an old bomoh saying which told the listener that Geeks always wanted a return for whatever they gave. Now Melvyn was waiting for the punch line. It was then that the Geek hit him hard on the knee.

“Now that I have your full attention” said the Geek with not a little annoyance at being ignored, “I expect a return for that information” thought so, said Melvyn to himself. “But I can’t tell you what it is right now, so I’ll come with you if that’s alright.” “You’ll do what. No you damn well won’t. Anyway I haven’t decided that I’m going anywhere yet.” But another sharp pain in Melvyn’s knee provoked Melvyn beyond endurance as he gave out a quick reflexive kick, which nicely touched thin air and little else as the Geek had easily sidestepped it being used to that reaction. “Mmm nice kick there, having problems with cramp are we.” ventured the Geek now in a playful mood.” What Melvyn said in reply is not for gentile folk to read. “Excuse me but I do have a father – somewhere” replied the Geek.

Melvyn limped over to where his favourite wooden walking stick was laying, picked it up, gave the knotted knob at the end a little shine with his shirt and thought better of using it as a weapon against the Geek, “bloody thing’s too fast” he muttered to himself.

But the Geek was right. Melvyn had to do something. He looked around at his destroyed surgery noticing only about one hundred of the jars, phials and bottles intact out of about four thousand, and gave a little whimper at the thought of having to replace them all to continue his practise. Then he decided “I have to put this right, I have to do something” so, grabbing a hessian shoulder-strapped bag Melvyn stuffed what he could inside, turned to the Geek as said “what are you waiting for, come on lets go”. The Geek smiled one of the ugliest smiles you might imagine and the two walked out, not following the path the Geek had mentioned, but into the village.

“But they went the other way” the Geek said a bit agitatedly, “I’m sure they did” said Melvyn “but they have a head start and we need to catch up quick”. The odd couple, one limping bomoh and one small ugly man walked into the un-expecting kampung, stopped at a nicely painted blue stilt house as Melvyn called “Oooi, Oooi, lammikum” his customary greeting. No answer. Melvyn called again, but again there was no answer. Eyeing the aging Rocsta jeep standing in the driveway Melvyn gave one more call before trying the car’s door handle, it opened. It wasn’t long before Melvyn had the ignition wires out and had started the diesel engine, and with a large dramatic cloud of black smoke lingering, the couple were off in pursuit.