Blood List

by Ali Carter

  When Charlotte walked into the house Jenny quickly scanned the area for cars and neighbours. Once it was clear she shot across the road and up Danielle’s drive. The angle of it swung out and around a large grass frontage which was offset to the house. This helped to keep her from being seen from the ground floor windows. A wooden gate with a simple open and shut latch flanked the right-hand wall. She made for that, squeezed the black iron handle and desperately hoped it wasn’t bolted from the other side. It wasn’t and opened easily. Cautiously she let herself into the back garden. It was at that point she wished keeping such close tabs on Charlotte hadn’t been such an essential part of this plan. Renewing an affair with Miles to send her loopy and get her committed was one thing, to follow her about whenever she got the chance to see how all that was coming along was quite another. Emily Stone certainly owes me she decided.

  Along a pink and yellow squared pathway, Jenny eased herself past an overgrown holly bush at the corner of the house, and briefly scanned the lawn and fenced perimeters at the rear of the property. Anyway this must be a medical call if she’s in the surgery Range Rover, she thought quickly. Then logic kicked in. Danielle seemed healthy enough, why the home visit? And that definitely wasn’t a doctor’s bag she was carrying… To get a doctor to come out these days you had to be practically dead anyway – unless she had kids of course – even then… Kids though? No not Danni.

  She recalled Danielle attending Drama College after High School and remembered her being utterly driven where achieving fame was concerned – children would’ve hampered her game plan.

  All these thoughts whizzed around her head as Jenny kept close to the back wall of the house. She instinctively ducked when she reached a bay window and crouched low beneath the sill, flattened herself against the brickwork as much as possible in order to avoid being seen from inside.

  A fanlight was open and Jenny could hear Status Quo playing from somewhere inside the house; Danielle always did like a bit of ‘Quo’ she thought. Then, without warning and to her abject horror – ‘Sweet Caroline’ was suddenly drowned out by muffled cries, falling furniture, and what sounded like piles of glass and china smashing to the ground! Without warning, the level of Rick & Co. shot up just as she gingerly lifted her head and peered through the window, eyes at sill level…

  Charlotte had followed Susie Sarrandaire down the hallway. It had not been difficult to pose as a very exclusive, very chic cosmetics agent. Luckily for Charlotte, Susie was very bored and agitated that day – but unluckily for Susie, she was also very conceited and very vain every day.

  “Wowww!! How absolutely ‘abfab’!” she trilled, using the double adverb incorrectly; “An up-market Avon lady! I had no idea there was such a thing!” Susie had eagerly beckoned Charlotte in and walked ahead of her down the hall towards the lounge, her incessant chatter babbled all the way. She then threw her arms wide and exclaimed in delight;

  “Do set up in here while I make some coffee, I’m just dying to try out an exceptionally select designer range – it’ll be such fun!”

  “Oh yes,” replied Charlotte, close behind her with a derisive smile as she tapped the blue zipped bag, heart pounding with every step;

  “I can assure you, you’ll definitely not have experienced anything like this before…”

  Susie’s neck felt as if it was going to snap right off, such was the force with which it was wrenched back as she stepped across the threshold to the lounge.

  The thick pad that now covered her mouth and nose was pressed heavily down on her face. A strong and heady chemical smell invaded her lungs – made worse with every attempted gasp for air. At first, sheer adrenalin worked her arms and legs as she tried to struggle through a mix of outright terror, panic and confusion. She managed to kick out at the coffee table and saw her empty mug spin through the air and crash to the floor. She heard the volume of the internal audio system suddenly increase as both hands tore at the thick noxious fabric across her face in frenzy but it was hopeless.

  Her left arm swept in a wild arc to the side as her hand air scrabbled – she was frantic, hysterical now for something, anything she could use as a weapon. It merely caught the lip of a crystal vase which similarly smashed to the oak floor. Water, roses and splintered glass bounced back up, sprayed across her legs with the impact. She realised her limbs were failing fast, the already blurred cream and caramel lounge decor had swirled incessantly into one – then in an instant cut to black.

  Susie Sarrandaire dropped like a giant puppet whose strings had been snipped. It had taken less than twenty seconds.

  Outside Jenny Flood, both hands clamped over her mouth in utter horror at what she’d just witnessed, could nevertheless not stop herself from looking through that window. It was as if she were held rigid on all sides, hypnotised and trapped in her worst ever nightmare, compelled to continue with that unfolding scene in front of her. Then she felt a nauseous rush and removed her hands to let her precious breakfast spill onto the Battenberg stone patio. For once, it was not a premeditated act.

  Her vomiting was not heard over the music, but what came next was so abhorrent, so horrifically violent, the shock sent her in a backwards sprawl to fall against a stack of earthenware flower pots and the noise as they fell created a loud clatter outside the window. Jenny was mesmerised for a split second before she tried to get to her feet, legs now jellified, octopus-like in her scrambled attempts to stand upright.

  Charlotte’s attention, suddenly removed from her now heavily bleeding victim, was sharply diverted to the lounge window. When their eyes met both women were in total shock and disbelief. Not only that the other was there, and what had been witnessed, but that there was only a few feet between them separated by a pane of glass. For Charlotte there was an extra stab, a jolt as she realised the oriental mask lay unused in her pocket. Bent over the body, mallet in hand, she was soon up and began to head for the front door.

  When she realised where she was going, Jenny suddenly found her feet and launched herself at the path! She ran straight past the bush ignoring its barbs; grabbed at the iron latch and was through the gate in a flash. Her head screamed but she was too horrified, too nauseous and too scared to cry. She didn’t dare look back, just ran straight down the drive and across the road, didn’t check for traffic – didn’t check for her pursuer, just kept right on running to the corner until she literally fell across the bonnet of her yellow Mini – lungs spent.

  She shook uncontrollably now, terrified Charlotte would be seconds behind her. Normally nimble-fingered Jenny suddenly began fumbling hopelessly as the large bunch of keys caught on her jacket lining and wouldn’t pull from her pocket. She yanked hard, heard a rip as they came out awkwardly, in her panic she tried to separate flat and work keys from the car one but they slipped from her hands down onto the kerb’s drain grating and skid precariously across the gaps!

  “No!” she cried as she fell to her knees, lunged out for them as she heard fast-running footsteps closing in behind. Her fingers clasped around the large oblong photo fob that had thankfully prevented them from slipping through the grid out of reach into the murky depths.

  With the bleep of the lock, she grabbed at the door and was inside with the locks hit and the engine started not even aware it wasn’t Charlotte she’d heard behind her – just a sports-type making use of his fit tracker!

  The gear was rammed home as Jenny accelerated out from the kerb and never saw Mr. ‘Fitbit’s’ shocked face, any other pedestrians, cars, or which direction she was headed. As long as it took her away from that road, that house – and that insane murdering bitch!

  Charlotte had decided not to follow Jenny. Her first instinct was to get her and shut her up quickly, but then realised that would be her second mistake. A public chase and subsequent assault in broad daylight would not be clever.

  She was back in the lounge now angry with herself. How could she have been so stupid? Charlotte
trembled as her fingers reached into her pocket and pulled out the oriental mask – and with it came her surgical gloves. She winced and studied both for a moment before she replaced them. I’ve got sloppy, too many stupid mistakes, far too many, and all in one place. Charlotte was scared now, didn’t feel in control and she didn’t like it.

  For the first time she heard how loud the music was and pushed the wall panel sound system off then cleaned her prints with a hanky. The house fell instantly quiet.

  Susie Sarrandaire’s beautiful long blonde hair was splashed heavily with her blood, her perfect body and porcelain skin violated in the most foul and grotesque way. It’s not enough though thought Charlotte irrationally as she gazed down at her work. Not for what she did, what she planned to do, but there’s no time for anything else. No time for wall messages, no time to set anyone up, no time to leave anything for the police to muse over. No time…

  Charlotte picked up the small mallet and returned it to the damp blue nylon bag, pulled out her gloves again and put them on. She must leave and leave quickly – it wasn’t entirely impossible neighbours hadn’t heard anything although statistics usually bore out people turned a deaf ear to ‘domestics’, checks were rarely made to see if anything was seriously wrong.

  She tried her best to slow down her breathing, to be as calm as possible as she stepped over the body and eased herself past the broken glass and scattered roses into the hall. It was quite hard to avoid stepping in the blood – it was everywhere.

  Now she just she needed to be gone – needed to clear her head, be able to think. There was an important message to deliver, and it needed to be delivered quickly. Charlotte just hoped Jenny really did love her schizophrenic brother as much as she remembered…

  TWENTY-EIGHT

  Jason Flood had turned his sister’s flat upside down and still couldn’t find it. Now he was seriously worried. He had re-checked his wrist, both wrists a million times, but the skull and crossbones was definitely not amongst his many other Gothic bracelets. Had it been the only one he would have noticed its absence pretty much straightaway, but with half a dozen jangling heavily at the end of both arms, he had no idea it had gone until that afternoon. Somehow the clasp must have worked loose.

  The bedside table had been emptied and searched twice, the lounge sofas and chairs pulled apart, and the small galley kitchen had its pots, pans and cutlery drawers completely rearranged – still nothing. If it had been any one of the others it might not have been quite so desperate, but that particular one was special. It had his initials carved on it. There was one at either end so when they were brought together and fastened it formed J. F. very clearly… and it had been a gift from his sister.

  His heart sank as he collapsed on the bed, head in hands. There was no getting away from it; it must have slipped off in Charlotte’s stables. That was an episode he was acutely and deeply ashamed of. He would never have done such a wicked destructive thing had he been in his right mind. He’d not taken his medication properly for weeks prior to visiting Jenny, now all hell had let loose and he was breaking into pharmaceutical surgeries and murdering horses. Even worse, both incidents involved that evil bitch Charlotte Peterson.

  Jason quickly tidied up the flat. He didn’t want Jenny asking questions on her return. With only minutes to spare and the last sofa cushion back in place, he heard the roar of an engine scream up the road and tyres screech to a halt outside. He looked through the window down on to the street where the roof of Jenny’s yellow mini looked back up at him from a very strange angle. He watched the door fly open, his sister jump out, arm extended behind her to lock it as she dashed for the flat’s street entrance.

  What the… Jason was flummoxed for a second – then Miles Peterson came to mind. If he’s hurt her again I’ll… at that moment his sister burst through the flat’s tiny hallway and into the lounge where she barely acknowledged him, instead Jenny ran over to the window parted the nets, quickly checked the street up and down then drew the curtains sharply.

  It was only three p.m. and she should have been at work. Her complexion looked very pale, which wasn’t unusual given she barely ate enough to feed a sparrow – but this time it was different. This time there was terror in her eyes.

  She lowered herself gingerly onto the settee and began to rock backwards and forwards, hands clasped together, she bit her nails, her eyes were jittery, and she whimpered like a frightened child. Jason sat down next to her and momentarily forgot his own problems. Gently he cupped his hands around hers, this seemed a little overkill for a Miles rebuff but he went with it anyway…

  “When will you ever learn Jen, you’re my big sister but you still behave like a kid running after that…’

  “It’s not him Jase!” she said through gritted teeth; “It’s not Miles – it’s… it’s her!” Jenny turned her face to his and he could see she was utterly and completely petrified. Her eyes were wild – white with fear; he’d initially hoped she hadn’t noticed his guilty expression but needn’t have worried, Jenny was totally self-absorbed about something, and it had left her traumatised in a way he’d never seen on her before – on any face before. What on earth was it? What could have got her into this state?

  She continued to rock back and forth clearly in a state of shock. His arm was round her now and he could feel the fear radiating off her body.

  “What about Charlotte?” he tried gently; “Have you seen her then?” Jenny nodded. Slowly at first, then her head seemed unable to stop nodding, faster and faster as the tears began to brim, spill down her cheeks and onto both hands. Hands that gripped each other tighter and tighter until the colour drained from their knuckles and matched her white cheekbones.

  “She… k -killed her Jason! Sh… She murdered my, my… oh God it was just so vile… it was so bloody vile Jase, like nothing I’ve ever…” she broke off and sobbed hysterically then.

  “Whoaaahhh… now just wait a minute! What do you mean… she killed someone? Who? Where? Do you mean she ran them over, an accident or something in her car?” Jenny looked up at him then, her eyes wide and staring as she held his gaze.

  “No Jason, I don’t. I don’t mean a… a car accident or something! I mean she killed her, my old school friend Danielle, she killed Danielle Mogg!” Now it was Jason’s turn to pale visibly as her voice rose and became even shriller.

  “Charlotte murdered Danni – in Danni’s – own – house!”

  Jenny grabbed some tissues from the coffee table and dabbed at her eyes before she crushed them all against her face. Jason’s eyes were glued to his sister, he tried to understand what she’d just said but wasn’t able to process it properly… or his brain wouldn’t let him. He moved closer to comfort her, both arms now protectively around her shoulders he hugged her to him, too stunned for a moment as he fought for words.

  “What… what were you doing there Jen, you haven’t mentioned Danni since fifth grade?” Jenny pulled away from him then and fumbled with the Kleenex, looked down at them so as not to have to look her brother in the eye. She took a deep breath;

  “Danielle came into the Courier,” she lied, “asked if there was a spare copy of last week’s paper. We couldn’t believe how we’d now met up after all these years and she invited me over to her house this afternoon to catch up.” Jenny was uncomfortable at how the lies tripped off her tongue so easily; that’s what plotting with Emily has done for me, she thought.

  “When I got there, her car was in the drive but there was no answer from the front door so… so I went round to the back. When I got there I heard some… some crashing noises and… and then…” She broke off suddenly and began to shake again, her hand came up to her mouth as she ran for the bathroom and slammed the door. His ears could not shut out the noise of her throwing up, he’d heard it many times before but knew this time she had good reason.

  Jason waited for her in the lounge and intermittently rolled his lips in uneasy te
nsion, then flicked his teeth nervously with his thumb nail. Beads of sweat broke out on his forehead. He heard the flush of the toilet then the door opened. Jenny walked slowly back into the room, agitated, drawing heavily on an emergency cigarette. He decided this was not the time to badger her over her obvious lapse in trying to give up.

  “You do mean Miles’ Charlotte don’t you?” he asked incredulously as she sat back down. “I mean, I know she’s an evil sarcastic cow but… murder?”

  “Yes… it was Miles’ Charlotte, and yes… she murdered her alright. She murdered her in the sickest – foulest way you could possibly imagine.” Her voice shook with every word and her mouth snatched at the cigarette as she inhaled deeply.

  “How Jenny – how did she kill her?” It sounded weird as soon as it was out of his mouth. He couldn’t actually believe he was sat there in her flat asking that question. The tension in the air was like a thick fog, yet edgy, charged with the anticipation of just exactly what his sister had just seen. She turned to him, removed the cigarette slowly from between her lips and opened her mouth to speak;

  “I saw h –” At that moment the phone rang which made them both jump apart. Jenny shot an apprehensive glance at her brother before she picked it up off the coffee table. Warily she brought the phone up to her ear. It seemed to Jason to take an age. The expression on her face was enough to alert him as to exactly who the caller was.

  Charlotte was brief. “I know you’re aware of who this is so I shall come directly to the point. You mention one word of what you witnessed to the police, to anyone… and your brother goes down for a drugs theft. Ask him. He knows what I’m talking about, and he knows what I can do.” Jenny stared suspiciously at her brother then spoke as steadily as she could manage into the phone;

  “How did you get my number?”