Why I Want You Dead

by A K Shattock

  “Well maybe, I might’ve been better off that way,” Tobias argued back. “The amount of times I’ve shown Fowler up this past year, I might as well go and dig my own grave.”

  “Yes, go and get digging.” Fowler’s voice boomed venomously behind them. “I think you should shut that smart mouth of yours, Mitchell. All of you, enough with the chit chat and get back to work!” He approached Tobias. “Don’t disappoint me, lad,” he hissed in his ear, before marching back out the room. “I’ve got a spade you can borrow,” piped Simmonds, once he was safely gone.

  They settled down in their respective seats to discuss the case. Tobias was still puzzled over Hudson’s disappearance. He had no other family, no friends. His only property in the UK had been rented out. Where could this guy be hiding?

  He brought out the aged, dirty whiteboard that they usually only brought out for special occasions and tried to coax the others for ideas.

  “How intelligent is Hudson? Does he seem like the type of chap to have the ability to blend in, effectively make himself invisible?” Simmonds asked seriously. “He must be clever, after having such a supposedly successful, international business and using Mrs Fielding’s mental instability to frame her for the murder of her husband,” Ellen inputed. “I say he must have some sort of safe house somewhere.” Tobias shook his head. “I disagree. Surely, he would’ve used it already. This guy was millions in debt and on the run from another country. No, I think he was smart enough to lay low; no buying or renting. Untraceable. Why sleep in the gallery otherwise?”

  “But where else could he go?” Ellen said desperately. “He could literally be anywhere. Perhaps he left the country? We know he was at his mother’s house until a few days ago.”

  Simmonds shook her head. “We reported him to border control. If he’d gone to the airport, he would’ve been alerted to us.”

  “He could’ve left another way. Ferry, train.” “Maybe he’s staying at a mate’s,” Harris interrupted. “That’s what I would do.” Naturally, everyone ignored him.

  They were stuck. And they were so frustratingly close. At least, they had some potential solid evidence. They went back to their desks; their noses back in the huge pile of left-over cases. It was a good half an hour before Tobias realised he didn’t need to be there. He was supposed to be off sick. The adrenaline had now worn off, and his thumping headache had started to come back.

  Suddenly, Ellen was at his side. “The lab called,” she said excitedly. “There’s been a match! Mr Fielding’s blood was found on the rubber glove. And get this, my blood was matched with the blood on his black jumper along with a few hairs containing his DNA!” “Right!” Tobias jumped up. “We need to work harder to find him. We can put him out as an official suspect for Gregory Fielding’s murder and the attack on us. It’ll make it more of a priority to find him.”

  “So, it’s confirmed? Is this enough evidence for him to overrule Mrs Fielding as a suspect?”

  Tobias nodded. “I should say so. Confirmed blood match of Mr Fielding’s found on gloves in his possession. He has a strong motive. Mrs Fielding was framed by using her kitchen knife as the murder weapon and her volatile, psychiatric condition was taken advantage off. I would say in terms of ground for arrest, we are spot on. We just have to work on connecting him to Jacob Huntley’s death.”

  There was something niggling on Tobias’s mind. Hudson wasn’t as intelligent as they had initially thought. The evidence was clearly found in his possession - his mother’s backyard no less. He’d even grouped the evidence for two sets of crimes in the same place. It was just too messy, too lazy. Would it be easier to track Hudson down than they had primarily thought?

  What was it that Harris had suggested? That he would just stay at a mate’s? The only mate that Hudson had was dead… yet owned a place that was currently empty.

  “Ellen,” Tobias couldn’t believe he hadn’t thought of it before. “I think I know where Hudson is!” Ellen instinctively grabbed her jacket and keys without question. They jumped back into the patrol car again and sped off towards Dulwich.

  As they pulled up in the pretty, expensive neighbourhood, Tobias yet again could not believe that a murder could happen in such a quaint place. It shouldn’t be allowed. Armed only with cuffs and a taser; he hoped he was right and that Hudson was not expecting them. Tobias and Ellen jogged towards the house.

  “POLICE,” Tobias bellowed. He positioned his leg, ready to kick the door down, but Ellen shook her head and simply opened the door. It had been left unlocked. Hudson must’ve been given a spare key. They made their way in; their eyes hunting for any movement. Tobias had crept into the kitchen at the back, Ellen close behind him. It was huge, open space complete with a sky-light, the walls lined with expensive, green and turquoise tiles. It looked like a model kitchen from a magazine. Tobias was internally admiring the quality of the tile work, when they could hear a creak behind them.

  He swivelled around, now acutely aware of the fact that he had only one functioning arm and had no back up yet, what-so-ever. Hudson was standing behind them. He was in his early sixties, tanned from his years in the sun, with scruffy, silver hair and wearing black jogging bottoms. He was holding up a gun.

  “Detectives, how nice of you to visit,” he smiled. He cocked the safety off and pointed the gun straight at Ellen’s head. “Now, how about we solve this in a civilised manner?”

  MARY

  CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO

  My head felt heavy as I arose steadily from the bitterhard, lumpy mattress. I wasn’t sure what had woken me. I was surprised that I had even managed to fall asleep in the first place.

  I sat up, my back against the concrete wall and stared into space. My daily routine.

  I had been contained here for about a week. At least, I thought I had been there a week. I had seen Dr Smith, the psychiatrist, almost daily. That was the only way I could determine between days. Otherwise, it all ran into one big blur. I had only left the cell for appointments, interviews and to shower.

  I could see now why prison time was considered a punishment. No one should have to be forced to be alone in their own company, their own thoughts for so long. It wasn’t just a punishment. It was torture. I closed my eyes, to give them a rest from the glaring, white walls and breathed heavily in and out.

  They were never going to find Stan. He was too good at hiding. He was an expert at avoiding the police, he knew how to fool them. And even if they did, that didn’t mean they would find enough evidence to allow him to become a suspect. That I would be set free.

  I thought back. Was Stan really capable of murdering Greg? The business was in tatters, yes. But it wasn’t enough of an incentive to kill, surely.

  Who killed Greg?

  Were Stan and Greg on good terms? I tried to dig into my memories. Nothing sprung out. I hadn’t seen Stan in years. Greg never spoke of him badly, never mentioned an argument.

  I did know Stan wasn’t a nice man. He was ruthless and manipulative. Him and Greg worked well together. They ripped off new artists and took huge percentages of their commision. I knew that Stan got into trouble a few years back for selling stolen artwork. He was a criminal. But was he cruel enough to kill?

  Who killed Greg?

  This was most likely the end for me. I was going to be imprisoned for the murder of my husband. Four walls were to be my life now. Apparently, I was to be transferred to a local prison until my hearing would take place. However, that had been delayed due to the circumstances of the case.

  I wondered what prison would be like. Would I have my own room? Or would I have to share? I wasn’t sure which I would prefer. Would I be allowed visitors? Not that there would be anyone willing to visit me. Perhaps Elizabeth might. Would I get any freedom? Access to televisions, books? A walk outside, a breath of fresh air? Would I be locked up with violent inmates, those who had truly killed with no regrets and a burning desire to kill again? My eyes filled with tears at the thought. Despite what most people believe, I was sta
rting to wonder if the death penalty was actually crueler.

  Who killed Greg?

  I wanted to believe it wasn’t me, that it hadn’t been my hands, from my body that had slashed that knife across Greg’s neck. But I wasn’t so sure.

  There was a darkness inside me. I knew that. I had started to let Agnes through. I let her take over a couple of times. Now, I was starting to hear her voice in my head. She was reassuring me. Comforting me. Then sometimes she would yell, and tell me that I was an idiot, an absolute imbecile for confessing. That was when her voice was the loudest.

  Did I trust her? I wasn’t so sure about that either. Who killed Greg?

  Suddenly there was a bang on the door and the sound of a key unlocking.

  “Mrs Fielding? You are free to go.”

  The words were so simple but my mind couldn’t comprehend them. I was… free? How was that possible?

  The police officer wrenched open the door. “Mr Hudson is now the prime suspect and is going to be taken in. They found new evidence. That is all I’m allowed to tell you.”

  My mind was hazy, as if it was wading through a fog. I stood slowly and shuffled towards the door. I could already taste fresh air.

  Stan killed Greg?

  I was still in a daze as I was handed my own, washed clothes and changed into them. It took me a few extra seconds to answer when I was asked who I would like to call to pick me up. I just couldn’t believe it. I wasn’t convinced that Stan killed Greg. I knew it in my gut, now.

  But who did?

  As I reached over to take the phone that had been handed to me so that I could call Elizabeth; I dared myself to say something, to admit the truth, to do the right thing. But I didn’t.

  I dialed her number. Anxiety and the build up of stomach acid were a horrible combination and both were making me feel nauseous. Could I do it? Could I let an innocent man go to prison for murder? Before I knew it, it was too late. I had let myself go. And it was so wrong.

  Because I could feel that darkness inside me. And I knew for a fact, that I was somewhat responsible for Greg’s death; even if I didn’t remember it.

  “Liz? I’ve been released.” But it was too late. I was free.

  TOBIAS

  CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE

  The gun was trained straight at Ellen’s head. Tobias could feel beads of sweat forming on the back of his neck. He hadn’t expected to be in this situation. How far away were back up? They couldn’t be too far behind, surely? He hoped they would get here in time. Before Hudson could hurt Ellen.

  Tobias quickly glimpsed Ellen. Surprisingly, she seemed quite composed, no hint of any panic. She was holding her hands up, not saying a word. Perhaps she’d found herself in much more lairy situations in Derby. If so, she was a natural. Despite Hudson’s calm demeanor, he himself appeared quite stressed. Tobias thought he could see his hands shaking.

  “I won’t hurt you if you get out of here. Walk out. And do not look back.”

  “Mr Hudson,” Tobias tried to keep his voice steady. “Please… it’s not too late. Don’t hurt anyone else. Let’s settle this properly…”

  “Settle what properly?” Hudson spat. “I’m going to be put in prison, I know that. And funnily enough, I don’t really fancy going. Now, get out before I shoot her!”

  “Tobias,” Ellen said suddenly. “Do what he says. Get out of here.”

  “I’m not leaving without her,” Tobias said stupidly. “It’s both of us or neither of us.”

  “Do it!” Hudson shrieked. “I’m not messing around.” He stepped closer towards Ellen, both hands on the gun.

  “Tobias,” Ellen said sternly. “Do it. I’ll be fine.” “I’ll let her go after you. Don’t make me kill her.” Tobias nodded reluctantly. It appeared that he had no choice. He stepped carefully, past Hudson then swivelled on the spot slowly, walking backwards along the hallway so he could still see Ellen. Nobody said a word. Tobias felt behind him for the door handle.

  “And now Ellen?” he prompted. His eyes were fixed on hers. He would never forgive himself if anything happened to her.

  Then suddenly, right before his eyes, Ellen ran forward and grabbed Hudson’s gun. She flung it across the floor and artfully twisted Hudson’s wrist behind his back so she could cuff him. Hudson yelped in surprise.

  “Ellen! Why did you do that?” Tobias sprinted forward. But Hudson was safely secured, firm under Ellen’s grip. In fact, the guy had started to cry. “The gun was a fake,” Ellen said nonchalantly. “It’s a cigarette lighter.”

  Tobias stepped over to it and lifted it, holding it within the sleeves of his coat. So it was. How did he not notice?

  Meanwhile, Hudson was in tears. “I’m innocent,” he cried. “I didn’t kill Greg!”

  “Save it, Stan,” Tobias said. He roughly grabbed the suspect’s other arm, and together himself and Ellen led him out to the patrol car.

  “How did you know it was a cigarette lighter?” Tobias was making conversation, purely to cover up how shaken he was. That had been too close. And it would’ve been his fault. What if it had been real? “I’ve seen the exact same lighter a few times in Derby. It makes a very realistic gun prop, which is why it’s so commonly used.”

  “But you still shouldn’t have done that,” protested Tobias. “What if you were mistaken? You could’ve got hurt.”

  “Don’t tell me you wouldn't have done the same if you were me,” Ellen’s eyes were hard on his, as she shoved Hudson forcefully into the back seat. He had offended her. “I can take care of myself, you know. Just because I’m a woman, doesn’t mean that I am more vulnerable than you.”

  They drove back to the station in silence, with the backdrop of Hudson’s sobs. For a cold-blooded killer, Hudson behaved quite like a baby.

  A couple of hours later, himself and Ellen sat down in front of Mr Hudson in the interview room. The man was quivering in fear. He looked much younger than his age in terms of muscular build, but all those years in the sun had carved lines into his face.

  “Mr Hudson,” Tobias began, after he had started the tape and had introduced everyone. “Where were you on the evening of Sunday 22nd March of this year?” “I was at my Mum's,” replied Mr Hudson, his voice strangely reedy and high. “Ask her if you don’t believe me!”

  “Oh, I’m sure your mother will agree with you,” Tobias couldn’t help but say sarcastically. Hopefully, he could go back and delete that bit off the tape. “You ran a gallery with Gregory Fielding in Kensington?” “Yes.”

  “And your gallery racked up a million in debt, is that right?”

  “How did you…?”

  “As well as racking up millions in debt abroad as well? You had to flee the United Arab Emirates, is that correct?”

  “No...I…”

  “And Mr Fielding was insured under key-person life insurance? A fact that I’m sure was known to you. As well as I am sure, that you knew that his death would make your business 1.5 million pounds richer?” “I don’t know… I don’t know what you’re talking about…”

  “Is it also true that you forged Mrs Fielding’s signature many times, claiming her to be a major part of your business, without her knowledge?”

  “Nah, that’s a lie. She wanted to be a part of it, she insisted!”

  “Did you frame her for the murder of your partner, Gregory Fielding?”

  “No, I would never! He was a good mate...”

  Ellen chose that point to take over. “Where were you two nights ago at approximately eight-thirty pm?” “I was… I was… with my Mum! I never leave the house!”

  “Right, of course you were,” Tobias exclaimed. “So you weren’t tailing two detectives who happened to be investigating at your mother’s house earlier that day and then proceeded to attack them?” He lifted up his sling to make a point.

  “No!” Hudson’s eyes were wide. “No, I would never attack the police! I’m innocent!”

  “Well, that’s clearly a lie, you wanted to shoot us with your cigarette lighte
r earlier,” said Tobias sarcastically. “And I don’t suppose it’s new to you that we found gloves with Gregory Fielding’s blood in your possession.”

  “I don’t know what you’re on about! Someone must’ve planted them!”

  “You know, everything would be a lot easier for you if you just told the truth! Do you know this man?” Tobias slapped down a photograph of Jacob Huntley. “Never seen him before in my life!”

  “Wrong again,” Tobias rather enjoyed being the ‘bad cop’. “You murdered this man in his home. Why?” “This is crazy! I’ve never hurt anyone, let alone kill anyone!”

  They grilled him for a further few minutes, but with no avail. They sent him back to the holding cells. “He’s not caving,” sighed Tobias. “No wonder he makes such a good art dealer. Very sly and good at lying.”

  “It doesn’t matter anyway,” Ellen assured him. “We’ve got him with the evidence.” The tenseness that had become between them before, was now forgotten.

  It was now late in the day, and way past the end of their shift. Tobias gently touched Ellen’s arm with his good hand.

  “Thank you for earlier,” he said softly. “You were really brave. And I shouldn’t have doubted you. You’re an amazing detective. Better than me. I’m so glad that we’re working together.”

  Ellen smiled back, but it didn’t fully reach her large eyes.

  “Don’t mention it.”

  ELIZABETH

  CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR

  “Liz, I’ve been released.” A cold chill went down Elizabeth’s spine as she comprehended what had just been said.

  “Liz? Hello, can you hear me? I said I’m free to go!” “But...but how?” she spluttered, her mind buzzing with panic. “What happened?”

  “They arrested somebody else,” Mary replied from the phone at the police station. “Stan, Greg’s partner. I thought you would be more pleased?”

  “Oh I am,” Elizabeth lied. “That’s excellent news!” She hoped her sister wouldn’t see through her, but of course she would. Mary knew her better than anyone else in this world.