Whose Voice is it?

Whose Voice Is It?

One early Saturday night, the local police received a call from someone whose words were spoken particularly slowly and sounded like the stumbling speech of a very old man. He said that someone was being beaten up in the nearby popular bar, the Tobi Jug, in the men’s washroom. The two fellows hitting him was stealing the man’s wallet. The person who picked up the phone was a rookie police officer, who did not ask the caller any important questions such as how he knew this if he wasn’t in the washroom himself. He just took it for granted that truth was being spoken. After all, he was just a rookie.

After he hung up on the phone and informed his fellow officers about the call, he could provide no information other than the caller somehow knew what was going. They decided to take a chance, got into a police car and drove quickly, siren sounding, to the Toby Jug, a bar that all of them had been in at some time or other.

When they got out of their car and rushed into the bar, they headed straight for the men’s washroom, and, sure enough, the caller had been right. They stopped the beating and robbery, handcuffed the two thieves and one of the officers walked over to the man whom he knew was the owner of the bar.He asked the man whether he was the one who made the call. A surprising answer followed. The owner said he knew nothing at all about this call or about what was going on in the men’s washroom. They both stood stunned for a few seconds. The officer said he would ask the person who received the call. Maybe they could find out who it was.

There would be no luck finding the person, even though the person who made the call was sitting alone beside the bar, with a smiling face, knowing the call made was a successfulo one.

This would not be the only such phone call that the police would received. The same voice would be heard over and over again. And each call would lead to an arrest. But the police still did not know who was making these calls. They tried asking the speaker what his name was, but the speaker would only respond with silence, and if asked twice would hang up the phone. As the arrest record from the calls was always successful, they afterwards stopped asking their informant.

The Funeral of a Police Chief

During the next Wednesday the police would be attending a funeral service that was important to them. The funeral was for their former chief, who was appreciated by all in the service. He had had an uncanny way of finding and arresting offenders. No one could match him for that, even when he was just a rookie.It was sad for all to see his health diminish over the last few months of his time there. He had to retire when his gruff voice could hardly be understood by his colleagues. He died shortly after his voice became almost impossible to clearly say words.

His daughter, and only child, Elsa made a long speech about her much loved father.People noticed that her voice sounded quite a bit like her father’s. That seemed somewhat strange, but no one felt it was right to comment on that at the time.That would be for later on, or apart from her company.

His daughter made a moving speech that in some ways sounded like her father’s gruff way of speaking. People thought that that was a little strange, but, with one exception none of them said a thing. The exception was Bob, who was Elsa’s friend, and hoped to be her boy friend or more some than that dat. He walked up to her and praised the speech that she had given. Then he said what some others were thinking, “You know you sounded a lot like your father. Was that a conscious choice on your part, or did it just happen because you felt close to him when you were talking about him?”

Her answer surprised him. “Bob, let’s go to the Toby Jug, where I can tell you what I have been going through in my speech to sound like that.” He had driven to the graveyard, while she had walked there, so they both got into his car and went the short distance to the Toby Jug, even though their destination was not far from the station.

When they got there, they both ordered a beer, and sat at a table far from where others were sitting. They both had a feeling that this was going to be a bizaare conversation that should not be heard by others.

“This is going to sound very strange. My father’s final words to me before he died were, ‘I am going to speak to you. Do not be surprised or scared by what I say. Just listen very carefully, and call the police station when I am done.”

Those words were followed by a short period of silence from the two of them.Then, just as Bob asked her if she wanted another beer, just a ploy to get them back to talking normally, she reached out with her right hand and touched him on his left arm. She looked at him, and with a voice that sounded more male then female, she said, “I’ve just received a message. I will have to make a call.”

She took a phone out of her purse, and after dialing the police office number, she spoke with a voice even more male, very, very much like that of her father, a voice that he knew well. She said, “There is a burglary taking place at the pharmacy on 24 Pearl Street. You should be able to get there before they get away with the theft.”

Bob knew that the location was close to the police station, so he was sure that the crime would be halted shortly. Within minutes the two of them culd hear the police car alarms go off as they passed the bar. This would result in another successful arrest.

When the sound of the police car died down, Elsa said to Bob, “Dad told me that I did not need to understand how the messages came to me, other than to know that there were mystics in our family history. Their voices had helped him in his past, and now would be passed on down to me.”

With a different tone and intent, she then said, “If we are to be a couple, which is something that I want, and believe you do too, you just need to accept the mystical element in my family history.” Bob just smiled and said “I certainly will. I have quirks of my own. No one is perfect.”