Why I Want You Dead

by A K Shattock

  “I come here most weeks,” Simon explained. “And I treated Dave awhile back and word got around. Basically, I can come and go here whenever I want.” “Isn’t that... kinda unethical?” Diane sipped on her cocktail. It was delicious. “And I don’t just mean to half of the Eastenders cast back there, that we just cut in front of. To get so many benefits from your patients, doesn’t it make you feel bad?”

  Simon chuckled. “We are very different people, me and you.” His cerulean eyes suddenly bored deep into hers. Diane felt something that could only be described as a ‘fizzle’, deep inside her stomach. Did she fancy him? She wasn’t sure. But he was definitely good looking. Unfortunately, it appeared that he knew that all too well. “I know most won’t admit it, but I happily will. I didn’t become a doctor to help people, I did it for the money and the status.” He sat back with a flair of arrogance, his eyes twinkling. “I know you’re one of those cliché doctors. You want to save your patients, save the world, ya-de-ya. How's it going for you? Paying the rent okay?”

  Diane was flummoxed. She knew he was cocky, but this was almost too much. She didn’t know what to say. Her drink was very nice though.

  “I know what you’re thinking. That I am a tool, a hypocrite, perhaps that I am evil for profiting so much from others’ misfortunes. I’m not proud of it. It’s who I am. But look around you. If I hadn’t helped Dave and the rest of the staff here so well, making such a difference to their lives, would they show me as much gratitude as they have? Sometimes you have to see the silver lining.”

  Diane considered. “But have you thought about those people you could help, the ones that can’t afford our extortionate practice fees?”

  “Who says I don’t help patient’s out financially? I throw in a few freebies where I can. I’m not the devil.” He shrugged. “I just don’t devote sixty percent of my work hours for public service, for free like you do.”

  It was true that Diane wasn’t earning as much as she could. And that she was only earning a part-time private salary for all the full-time work that she actually did. But in truth, she wouldn’t have it any other way.

  “I really admire you,” Simon continued. “You’re not a phoney doctor. You want to help everyone, rich or poor.” He leaned in closer. “I wish I could have as much strength as you.” He was close enough that Diane could smell the expensive toothpaste on his breath. She gulped, her heart almost stopping. Then suddenly, his soft lips were on hers.

  Then, right in the moment, his mobile phone rang, blaring loudly. Diane almost leaped out of her skin.

  “Sorry,” he said apologetically, fishing out his phone from his inside coat pocket. He glanced at the screen. “I have to take this.” He swivelled away from her. Despite the loud, thumping music, Diane could still hear an angry woman yelling down the phone. “Alright, alright, I’ll be back soon,” he hissed. “It’s rammed on the tube, I was waiting until it died down.... Alright, well I just shove my way in and suffocate then. Bye.” He hung up the phone. “Sorry about that. The wife is a nightmare.”

  Diane’s cocktail almost came out of her nose. “W...wife?” she spluttered.

  “Yeah, didn’t you know? By the way, this can’t be a serious thing. I knew you’d understand Diane, of all people.”

  “What? No, I’m not that sort of person.”

  “Don’t worry about it. I don’t feel anything for her anymore. We just stay together because of the kids.” “Kids!” Now Diane was beginning to feel sick. So much for trying to move on. She wanted fun, not to be over-complicated with the guilt of becoming a homewrecker. “No Simon, I’m not doing this.” She stood up. “I’m going.”

  “Wait, Diane, don’t go!” he called after her. “Wait, can you please not mention the wife thing to anyone at the practice. It’s imagine.”

  Diane stalked out stomped towards the tube station. Mainly, she was furious at herself. She missed Toby. And what infuriated her more so, was that she couldn't get him out of her mind the whole way home.

  quite a turn-off as you can

  in disgust and then angrily

  ELIZABETH

  CHAPTER FIFTEEN

  Elizabeth just couldn’t believe what she was about to do.

  She scurried into the police station, desperately clutching her cracked leather handbag - a designer one that Mary had bought for her years ago, one that Elizabeth felt way too sentimental about to replace. Her dark hair was a mess and she looked like a resurrected corpse, but she didn’t care.

  She had to find him. She needed to speak to that detective - before it was too late.

  She had spent the past couple of days in that cheap hotel room. She couldn’t bring herself to go home, not just yet. She knew Keith and the boys were worrying about her. But in truth, she had needed a place to grieve. She hadn’t wanted her family to know. She just had to let it all out and hope that she could move on.

  Perhaps it was her own fault. Because of what she did, how she betrayed Mary, Keith and the boys; she didn’t deserve happiness. What had she been thinking? Did she really believe she could just run off with her sister’s husband and nothing would come of it? And now Greg was dead. This was surely all her fault.

  Elizabeth had laid in that bed for hours, for most of the day. She had spent ages, agonising over what had happened, about what she needed to do. She was fairly certain that Mary knew about the affair. That day with the phone call… it had to have been Mary who picked up. But for some reason, she had hidden what she had known. For a whole year, she had not said a word, never hinted at anything. She had kept all that rage in, as if waiting for her moment. And absolutely nothing terrified Elizabeth more. Elizabeth had thought about it long and hard. She needed to tell the truth. At the end of the day, her family would find out what she has done. But that was the price she had to pay. She knew that if she said nothing, then her own life would be at risk. Perhaps even - and she dreaded to even think about it

  - her own family.

  Her thoughts went to Tim and Eddy. They had gotten so big! They were both in their early twenties. Eddy was the eldest. He had taken up an apprenticeship job in a local business and had never looked back since. He was now one of their important managers. He also had a long-term girlfriend, Heather, whom he had been with since school. She was waiting for their engagement announcement and she knew it would be any day now. They only lived up the road from them and came to dinner every Sunday. She knew she was so lucky that he was closeby; being able to take care of the grand-kids will be an absolute blessing.

  Tim was the academic one. He was at university, in his last year. They had struggled to afford it, to scrimp out for his accommodation and allowance. But it had been worth every penny. He was supposed to graduate with a first in Economics. Elizabeth just couldn’t wait for the graduation. She already knew what dress she was going to wear, and she was going to invest in waterproof mascara because she was going to cry… a lot. She would not be able to contain how proud she was.

  But how much would she lose once her family found out about the affair? Would they ever forgive her? Would they treat her differently? Would they shun her away? Elizabeth couldn’t bear to think of it. But how much would she lose if Mary was free? Would the boys lose their mother? Forever? She’d made her decision. It was too late to turn back now.

  She flopped onto the front desk at the police station. “Detective Mitchell,” she said breathlessly. “I need to speak to him. It’s urgent!”

  It was the same police officer from the day before. The beautiful woman with dark, caramelised skin. Her eyes filled with recognition.

  “Please sit down,” she said kindly. “I’ll ring up for him.”

  Elizabeth waited nervously on the hard, metal bench. She was twitching all over and was beginning to feel hot. Could she do this? Would she be able to live with herself?

  “Mrs Jones?” the detective with the floppy, sandy hair and long trench coat appeared. He looked quite stressed. “What is this about?” He sounded impatient.


  Elizabeth gulped. “I wasn’t completely honest before. I need to give you more information about… about my sister.”

  The detective nodded. “Of course, follow me,” he led her towards that same interview room again, the one with the huge, strange mirror and uncomfortable, metallic chairs.

  “Now, what do you want to tell me?” the detective went straight to the point. Elizabeth was temporarily lost for words. “Lets get on with it, I have other cases to deal with,” he said curtly.

  Elizabeth took in a breath. And then it all came out. “My sister… she is dangerous. Those blackouts she has… she isn’t normal. She transforms into a different person and she becomes violent. It’s… it’s really bizarre, but she used to call herself Agnes during those times. I didn’t know what to think,” Elizabeth was beginning to feel very distressed. “She used to fight and hurt me when we were younger. But I think it’s got worse. When I was with Greg…” she could feel the threat of tears coming along. “He told me some of the things she used to do to him.” The detective had pulled out his battered notebook and was scrawling notes as she was talking. He looked up at her. “Go on,” he said gently.

  “She used to terrify him,” she said warily. “He used to notice when she switched. He said he could see it as soon as it happened, right as they were arguing. She became… Agnes. Then she would flip out at him. She’d brandish a knife and threaten to kill him. She’d hit him. Once, she’d tried to push him down the stairs. He used to fear for his life.” Now there was a torrential flow of tears coming from Elizabeth’s eyes. “When she switched back, it was like nothing had ever happened. He didn’t talk about it and nor did she. That’s why we became so close, Greg and I. I was the only person in the world he could talk to about it. He was scared about what might happen if he tried to leave her. So he didn’t.” Elizabeth shuffled in her seat. “I know, I should’ve said this earlier. But she’s my sister. I still love her. I wanted to protect her. But then I realised… this has gotten out of hand. What if she - Agnes - hurts someone else? What if she comes after me next? What if she hurts my family?” Her eyes moved onto the detective’s, filled with despair. “Are you trying to say,” replied the detective, twirling his pen between his long fingers. “That you think your sister murdered Gregory Fielding?”

  Elizabeth closed her eyes. And inhaled deeply. “Yes,” she said firmly. “Yes, I think she killed Greg. And I’m afraid she’s going to kill me next.”

  TOBIAS

  CHAPTER SIXTEEN

  Tobias could feel himself becoming more and more frustrated with this case. As he took in what his main suspect’s sister was saying; he realised it was now imperative that they found Stanley Hudson. If they could rule him out as an alternative suspect, then maybe, just maybe Tobias could let this case lie.

  Something deeply troubled him, and he couldn’t put his finger on it. He knew there was a gaping hole of information that he couldn’t get to. Was Stanley Hudson the key to get there? And he needed to speak to Diane. He needed to find out exactly what Gregory Fielding had been guilty of. And he needed to verify this other personality… this Agnes.

  It was also strange how much Mrs Jones was so set on the guilt of her sister. Tobias knew better than to take this accusation too seriously. There was definitely a lot of going on between those sisters. Mrs Jones wasn’t exactly innocent herself; she had an affair with her own sister’s husband. Was it her grief that was spurning her to accuse her sister of the unthinkable? Or was she telling the truth? It was difficult to tell. The only way to get anywhere with this case would be to get their hands on some solid, hard evidence.

  After Tobias had shown Mrs Jones the way out; he could feel an unfamiliar sensation building up inside him. It was anxiety. He knew that if he took the time out to go and find Hudson, he would get it in the neck from Fowler. He had been half-way reading through the notes of a rape case before Mrs Jones turned up. He had to use his time very wisely. He definitely wouldn’t be paid extra for overworking, especially not on a case he was specifically instructed not to pursue. And he just couldn’t afford to be a slave to society. He had bills to pay too.

  He realised then he had to be ever so careful with his time. He couldn’t spend too long looking for Hudson, otherwise the other cases, other innocent people were going to suffer. He was going to have to be very efficient.

  He knew that the best place to look for any incriminating evidence; would most likely be at the gallery that Hudson worked at. Natalie had already been and inspected there.... but that was before they had started to truly suspect him of murder. Perhaps he had gone back there and left a trail. It was worth a look.

  A few minutes later, himself and Natalie were driving over to the gallery. It didn’t take long to persuade her to come along; she would be able to spot if anything had been moved in the gallery - a tell-tale sign that Hudson had been back. Tobias could tell that Natalie was feeling a bit stressed. This time, she was driving, and he could see her fingers gripping the steering wheel, her blue eyes fixated on the road, as if she was deep in thought. She was quieter than usual. Tobias felt guilty dragging her into this. She was new, and it wasn’t fair. But how could they do their job properly with such lack of staff, resources and time? Why were they being punished for wanting to do what was right? It didn’t make sense.

  It wasn’t long before they reached Kensington. Unsurprisingly, the gallery appeared to be completely empty. Both himself and Natalie did a search around the building, looking for any signs of activity. The building manager was found at the backside and was startled to see them. “Back again?” he said, with raised eyebrows.

  “Have you seen Stanley Hudson at all the past few days?” Tobias cut to the chase. He was acutely aware that time was ticking and the traffic around this area was about to get hideous. The building manager shook his head. Tobias noticed he was avoiding his gaze.

  “Can we have a look inside please?” Tobias asked him.

  The manager looked uneasy. “You’re… you’re going to need another warrant for that, surely?”

  Tobias held his hands up, trying to appear nonthreatening. “We only want to see if Mr Hudson is in. He is desperately needed for this high-priority investigation.” Tobias would be damned if he had to go back and grovel to Fowler to get any more warrants.

  The building manager looked like he was having an internal conflict. “Very well,” he sighed reluctantly. He reached for his key, then paused. “Be careful,” he said finally. “Stan Hudson… he isn’t a good guy. Watch your back.”

  “Don’t worry, we’re not scared,” Tobias said jokingly, trying to ignore the sudden feeling of uneasiness. They let themselves into the building. Natalie did a quick sweep around the place.

  “The mattress in the back office has been moved,” she said. “Looks like he doesn’t want us to know he's been staying here.”

  Tobias raised his eyebrows slightly. The place was huge. It was an old building with high ceilings and various twisty passages at the back. It was like a maze. The main gallery, where the paintings were hung; was absolutely beautiful. A lot of work had gone into the venue to make it look professional and extravagant. It was clearly the type of place that required a certain type of clientele. Tobias stepped closer to one of the paintings. It seemed the theme of this gallery was classical, eighteenth century; with a few more modern, contemporary paintings thrown in towards the back.

  “I wonder…” Tobias was drawn to a particularly bright and colourful painting in one of the back showrooms. It was of a young girl in Victorian clothing, posing intimately over a chair. It looked like an original. And on closer inspection, that was exactly what it appeared to be. There was a little card with writing underneath it:

  KIM WATTS, £3,500

  It was the only painting that wasn’t famous enough to not show the artist’s name and was ‘affordable’ enough to show the price. Which could only lead Tobias to assume that the artist was still very much alive.

  “Tobias, over here!�
�� Natalie called from somewhere in the back. It took a few minutes of searching and following her voice in the curvaceous passages, but eventually he found her in a sparse, and tiny concrete store room.

  “Don’t you think the wall looks a bit false here?” said Natalie. She was inspecting the wall at the other end of the room. “It sounds hollow as well.” She banged it to demonstrate.

  Tobias clapped his hands. “Right, let's find a mallet.” “Are you joking? How much trouble are we going to get into with Fowler if we get sent a complaint and bill for breaking in and damaging property.” “Of course I’m joking,” Tobias lied. “We’ll scoot around the outside, see if we can find another way in.”

  “Or we may not have to,” Natalie was pressing gently on a part of the wall. “Look, this part feels like it might give way.” She fiddled about with it a bit longer and a single, large section of plasterboard came away in her hands. “A secret passage!” she said triumphantly. Sure enough, between the long wooden studs, there was a gap big enough for a person to get through.

  “This must be where they keep the stash,” said Tobias excitedly. They both hurriedly clambered through and were met with a magnificent sight. There were many wooden crates, with what Tobias would bet with his life, were full of expensive paintings. “What do you think? Stolen or a very strange, over protective way to store their stock?”

  “We should get all of this checked out,” Natalie agreed. “If we find that Hudson is shady-enough of a character to steal paintings, would that make him more likely to have murdered his partner?” “Or Fielding knew something that Hudson wanted to cover up,” said Tobias. “Or maybe they had a fall out? Perhaps Fielding didn’t agree with the unethical side of the business?”