Murder-De-Sac

by Jim Bennett

  ‘I’d come over on that Sunday with those clippers he’d left behind on the pretext of seeing him again. If you were there, I could just say I was dropping them off and then go home. If not, then maybe we could spend the afternoon together in bed. There was something that always felt a bit wrong about us being in my bed, you know. Our bed I should say, mine and Paul’s'.

  Her eyes had shifted to the floor as she had been talking, but then they flicked back towards Julie when she said ‘but of course, you know what happened next. You were there'. Julie’s face immediately flushed with the shame of it.

  ‘I may have been out of the game for a while, but even I know that the only people who fight like the way you two were are lovers. Can you even comprehend how that felt? Not only to have fallen for that silly little Lothario’s charms, but then to realise that I was just one of a harem of middle aged concubines'.

  Mrs Sinclair seemed to become more aware of how she was slumped all of a sudden, and snapped back up to attention. Her eyes passed up and down Julie’s entire body. ‘It was only when I found out about the two of you that I realised how low his standards were. If he was attracted to you, then what the hell did say about me? The little shit'. There was real venom in her voice now. She had started chopping again, the knife hitting the board hard with each word she spoke. ‘Who did he think he was? Treating me like that'.

  Something occurred to Julie. ‘It didn’t take you long to make a decision, did it? There was what? 12 hours between when you decided to kill him and actually doing the deed?’

  ‘He made me look ridiculous', Mrs Sinclair said, her voice becoming suddenly shrill. ‘I was willing to throw away everything I had in the world for him, and it turns out I was only one of many’.

  Julie’s mind started racing. Why hadn’t she and Mrs McGrath considered Mrs Sinclair a suspect before. ‘But I heard that 24 hour plumber arrive at your house the night that Jack was killed. He’d come into my room just before that'.

  ‘Did he?' Mrs Sinclair said with a wicked grin on her face. ‘Are you sure about that?'

  The day had been overcast, and as the sun moved from behind a cloud, it lit Mrs Sinclair from behind through the kitchen window. The light made Julie feel dizzy, and for a moment, she could only see the woman’s outline. All of a sudden, it seemed ridiculous to her that someone with such beautiful hair would decide to inflict that boyish crop on herself. It was then that the realisation came crashing down on Julie.

  ‘It was you, in my bedroom that night. I’m so stupid, how did I not see it before? No wonder he didn’t say anything. I thought it was because he was too drunk, but you couldn’t do anything more than mumble otherwise I would have realised it wasn’t Jack’.

  ‘Very good', she said in a patronising tone. ‘Astonishing really for someone with your obvious lack of intellect'.

  Julie ignored the slight and pressed on. ‘And so Jack was…’

  ‘Already dead, yes’, Mrs Sinclair said, jumping in. It was the indifference with which she made the statement that made Julie feel the most uneasy. ‘It wouldn’t take a great stretch of the imagination for anyone to believe that the young Romeo had died of an overdose, but it’s better to be safe than sorry, isn’t it? Of course you see all these clever plots of the television. You just don’t know how they’re going to stand up to scrutiny though. For all I knew, there was some sort of test to tell what angle the needle went in at, or who pushed the plunger. That’s why I had to come up with all that nonsense of dressing up like him and coming into your room. From what I gather, you’ve usually drunken yourself into a stupor by that time of the night. I thought you could at least be depended upon to make out basic shapes’.

  Julie wanted to make a real show of indignation at this fairly accurate yet entirely unnecessary statement. However, as Mrs Sinclair still had a firm grip on the vegetable knife, it didn’t feel like the best time to kick off. ‘How did you even get in? Through the window like Brian?'

  Mrs Sinclair gave Julie such a look that you would have thought she had been dribbling into her hands for the past thirty minutes. ‘You weren’t the only one to spend the night in that bed dear. I’m surprised you didn’t hear us coming in. He could barely stand up'.

  ‘Through the front door then’, Julie said, coming to another small point of realisation. ‘That’s why Jack shoes were in the rack, not scattered across the floor of the kitchen'.

  Mrs Sinclair ignored the reference to her error and pressed on with her own version of events. ‘It’s easier than you think, with a big or foresight that is. I loosened some of the joints under the sink. Gave it a bit of a wack with the hammer, you know? Then I sent the boy a text asking him to meet. He let me into the house and it was one more trip around the maypole to get him off to sleep. Then the needle went in as easy as you like. I deleted the text, and called the plumber. After I’d popped in to say hello to you, I was on my way'. She explained it all so rationally that it was hard to remember that she was talking about murdering someone.

  ‘Then when those daft plods came knocking, it was easy enough to tell them about your lovers spat with Jack and drop a few more hints to throw them off the scent'.

  ‘But how did you know that Jack would have the heroin? Wasn’t it a bit risky to just assume that he’d have some in his room?'

  Mrs Sinclair laughed. ‘Oh bless you, so naive. No, I came thoroughly prepared. It’s not hard to find someone who can sell you the right equipment. I’m not exactly the kind of customer that they’re used to. That doesn’t seem to bother them though when they saw that I could pay for it'.

  Julie suddenly remembered the yobs that had chased them off the industrial park. One of them had mentioned that her and Mrs McGrath weren’t the first respectable clients he had catered for recently. How had they missed that? It all felt so simple now.

  ‘Where did Brian fit into all of this?'

  ‘Brian?' She said, looking at her quizzically, ‘from next door?'

  Julie nodded. When Mrs Sinclair said nothing and continued to look perplexed, she said ‘Jack was blackmailing him. He broke in to steal the money back'.

  ‘Nothing to do with me', she said. ‘It’s a shame really, he would have made a much better scapegoat than you. He just sort of looks the part, doesn’t he?' As Mrs Sinclair’s attention waned, the tension returned to her arm and she seemed to remember the knife in her hand again. Julie began to feel herself becoming panicked and desperately sought for another question to distract her would be assailant. ‘Was it worth it then? Getting your revenge'. She tried to manoeuvre herself closer to the doorway without making it too obvious.

  ‘I’d say so’. She still looked very pleased with herself.

  ‘It doesn’t change anything though, does it? He still made you look a fool'.

  Mrs Sinclair’s expression instantly soured. ‘Well he won’t be doing it again, will he?'.

  ‘But you’re going to go to prison. Your husband will have to go into a home. Just so you could get your revenge'.

  ‘I’m not going anywhere’. She closed the gap between them and Julie flinched. It was then that there was an almighty banging at the door. Without realising what she was doing, Julie spun around and flung herself out into the hall. ‘Help!' She screamed. ‘She’s a murderer, she’s going to kill me!' She only managed to make it a few steps before she felt a slash across the length of her back and then a sharp pain in one of the fleshy deposits towards the top of her legs. The blow instantly floored her, and as she hit the ground, her face collided painfully with the wooden floor.

  From where she lay dazed and confused, Julie heard footsteps running away from her. A few seconds later, she could just about make out the sound of the back door opening over the continued banging at the front of the house. A moment later, the thudding stopped and was replaced by the unmistakable sound of two people shouting. She tried to raise herself up onto her elbows and instantly started to feel faint. As the light of the world began to dim, Julie was sure she heard an almighty smack th
at she couldn’t quite identify, but it didn’t seem important anymore. She fell flat and everything went dark.

  Chapter Twenty-Two

  It took Julie a few moments to realise that she was in a hospital bed. Once she remembered that her last memory involved being stabbed in the back and then crashing to the floor face first, it wasn’t much of a surprise. She touched her face and instantly recoiled at the pain. Returning her hand more gently now, she felt that her nose had a great deal of padding surrounding it with some adhesive tape keeping it in place.

  ‘Shouldn’t mess with it too much', a voice said from the other side of the room. ‘Took them ages to get it to stop bleeding'. Julie turned her head too quickly and saw stars in front of her eyes. There was a horrible moment when she was sure that she was going to be sick before the nausea receded and she saw Mrs McGrath sitting in one of the chairs next to her bed. Julie’s head was sore and her back was stinging a bit, but apart from that she felt pretty much okay.

  ‘The doctor said they’re superficial'. Mrs McGrath said as she saw Julie reach to touch the bandages on her back. ‘Conk on the head that was the real worry. Ran you through the machines though and there’s no real damage. Probably keep you in overnight and then you’re good to go'.

  Julie took a moment to take the information in and then said ‘you’ve been in the wars too’, pointing at Mrs McGrath’s leg, which was covered in a long plaster cast. Julie could only see the woman’s foot, as she was wearing a baggy pair of hospital scrubs over her injured appendage.

  ‘Look who’s talking’.

  ‘What happened to you? Did you get in another fight? Who was it this time? An orphan child begging for some scraps?’

  ‘If I was, then they deserved it’, she said grumpily.

  ‘How did you even know I was here?'

  ‘Called the ambulance', she mumbled, ‘after I found you’.

  Julie looked at her, incredulous. ‘How did you even know where I was?’

  ‘Just because you had a wobble didn’t mean I wasn’t keeping tracks on you. You’re a liability, I had to make sure that you didn’t get yourself killed'.

  ‘So you were following me?'

  ‘I’ve got better things to do than follow you around. I saw you marching over the road with that pair of clippers like a mad woman. Then I clocked you going into her majesty’s garden. When you hadn’t come home after 30 minutes, I thought something must have gone wrong, so I came to have a look'.

  ‘I was only there for about ten minutes'.

  ‘You’re alive, aren’t you? What are you complaining about?'

  ‘It was you then, banging on the door'.

  ‘Yeah well, never liked the look of her. Always something a bit nasty about her'.

  ‘I’m guessing she got away then, if you’ve ended up with a broken leg'.

  ‘Did she buggery. She’s done at the station now, the bobbies turned up just before the ambulance. The silly bitch. She came running down the side of the house, obviously up to no good. So I clocked her with my stick. Right in the nose. No place better for dropping someone, except maybe the balls'.

  ‘And then what? You just fell over?'

  ‘Took me down with her, didn’t she? I fell at a funny angle. Doesn’t take much at my age to break a bone. Jimmy’s been in once already after a statement. He’ll be back again this afternoon'.

  ‘What would have happened if she had been running away for a legitimate reason?'

  ‘I still would have hit her. Might have helped her up afterwards though'.

  They sat there for a few moments in silence before Julie said ‘you called the ambulance then’.

  Mrs McGrath shrugged.

  ‘And you came with me to the hospital?’

  ‘Made sense. Had to get my own leg sorted out'.

  ‘Only I think I can remember someone holding my hand on the way here'.

  ‘You should report that paramedic to the medical board. Indecent to be grabbing patients like that, especially when they’re unconscious'.

  ‘Mmm, I’m sure'.

  Again the conversation ceased, although Mrs McGrath seemed to be fairly content sitting quietly. Julie was surprised she hadn’t taken the time to cook up some new conspiracy theory about MRSA.

  ‘Don’t you have any questions about how she did it?' Julie asked. ‘Even though we knew she was with the plumber and the paramedics when the police thought it happened'.

  ‘Not really'. Mrs McGrath said. ‘None of my business really’.

  ‘You don’t want to know why she did it?'

  ‘Weren’t they sleeping together?'

  ‘Yes…’

  ‘Then I know it all already'.

  ‘What was all this about if you weren’t bothered with how it was done? Why spend all this time and energy on it if you’re not interested'.

  ‘I told you, it’s about doing the right thing, and DI Wanker Morris wouldn’t have got there on his own. If we hadn’t done anything, then she would still be running around knocking off her toyboys'.

  ‘I’m guessing they’ve released Brian?'

  ‘Dunno, I guess so. Although how they could have thought that wassock could do anything more complicated than peel a potato is beyond me'.

  ‘Funny that it’s all over', Julie said, rearranging herself in the bed. ‘Hopefully I can get a bit of normality back in my life now'.

  ‘Normality is overrated. Wouldn’t be able to go back to the way you were even if you wanted to now. You’ve had a taste of something better'.

  Julie said nothing, although inwardly reflected that Mrs McGrath had a point. ‘What’s the plan then? You and I setting up our own detective agency, are we?'

  ‘I’ve heard worse ideas’. If Julie didn’t know better, she could have sworn that the corners of Mrs McGrath’s lips turned up a fraction into something resembling a smile.

  ‘Not a bad way to make a living. Following my geriatric neighbour around as she stares people down to decide if they’re capable of murder'.

  ‘Be as snotty as you like, it worked, didn’t it?'

  ‘No, as it goes, I’d say it didn’t. The only reason we caught Mrs Sinclair is because I returned those hedge clippers and questioned her'.

  ‘That’s because you told me we didn’t need to talk to her. You said she had an alibi’.

  ‘She did have an alibi!' Julie said indignantly, ‘just for a different time, that’s all'.

  ‘And I can’t be blamed if I got told that someone wasn’t a suspect when they were. I was right about everyone else'.

  ‘You were right in saying that all of the people you forced me to chase down with you weren’t murderers?'

  ‘I was, yeah', Mrs McGrath said as if it wasn’t surprising in the slightest.

  ‘How are we ever going to know for sure if we don’t ask them any questions or look for any evidence? They might have killed someone else for all you know'.

  She picked up a magazine from the table next to her and opened it at a random page. ‘Not my problem. We got our killer'.

  ‘I’ll be round tomorrow at eight then’, Mrs McGrath said, climbing out of the taxi with even less ceremony than usual.

  ‘Why do we have to go at eight? Do you think that there’s going to be a massive rush for food shopping on a Wednesday morning?'

  Mrs McGrath made no move to pay, so Julie gave the driver a £20 and told him to keep the change. The old woman had appeared that morning when Julie was about to be discharged. God knows how she actually got there with her leg in plaster, and she hadn’t invited her to accompany her home. Whatever the reason for her presence, Julie supposed that while she didn’t have much to offer in the way of reassurance or sympathies, it was a nice gesture. Of course she’d spent the whole journey explaining what an imposition it was and how much Julie owed her as a result. It was because of this that she had been forced to agree to take her neighbour to the supermarket the following day.

  ‘Want to get there before all the biddies. Can’t be doing with them shuffling a
round like they haven’t got anywhere to be'.

  ‘They probably don’t. Besides, shouldn’t you be a bit more understanding? It won’t be long before you’re one of them'.

  She raised her stick and pointed it between Julie’s eyes. ‘I’ve got some fight left in me yet, girl', she said, placing her foot firmly on the floor despite strict instruction not to do so when she was outside.

  Mrs McGrath had refused the hospital’s offer of a pair of crutches. Her argument was that she hadn’t lost the leg, and she’d been getting on fine with her stick for years. The nurse had then offered a wheelchair, although the offer was instantly rescinded when she saw the look of homicidal rage on Mrs McGrath’s face.

  ‘I’m well aware. I’ll see you tomorrow at eight then'. With no words to mark her departure, Mrs McGrath stormed up her front garden like the hordes of Genghis Khan were pursuing her and went immediately inside.

  Mrs McGrath hadn’t thought to bring Julie a change of clothes. Her blouse from the day before was still covered in blood and had been handed to her in a plain plastic bag shortly before being discharged. The only other clothing made available to her was the top half of a pair of hospital scrubs, which she wore with the smart skirt that she had been admitted in. As she made her way up to her own front door, she couldn’t think of anything better in the world than getting into a hot bath with a glass of wine. Unfortunately the doctor had told her that she wasn’t allowed to get her stitches wet and that with the drugs she was taking, it was probably best to steer clear of alcohol for the next few days. She would have to settle for a wipedown with a flannel and a strongly brewed cup of tea.