by Zia Black
Neil gazed at the painting hanging in the hallway. It was a portrait of his girlfriend naked at the beach, her afro hair like a black halo around her head. But she was no angel. That cheeky grin on her face said a lot to him. It said she really liked the painter. Her nakedness showed how much he liked her. No wonder guests always missed the shore and rainbow sunset in the background. The chemistry between her eyes and the painter was infatuating. Even Neil felt as though he was intruding. He tried to focus on the rosy sunset behind her, but soon it was a blur again as his eyes returned to her.
"Hopeless," he said. "A hopeless horizon."
He took the painting off the wall and smashed it over the banister. Now her body flopped over as if he'd snapped her spine. The thought made him smile, and chuckle a little.
He retrieved a pair of scissors from the bathroom, catching a whiff of strawberry on the way. He kept his eyes off the bath, even though the shower curtain was drawn. On the rim was a bloody handprint. He'd get to it later.
Back downstairs, he cut up the painting and cooked her on the fire. He enjoyed seeing her brown skin turn black. He smiled until he saw the clock on the wall.
Four o'clock. The town would awaken soon. He didn't have much time.
Neil pulled out a trunk from under the stairs and dumped her charred remains on top of the body.
"She's like a daughter to me," he said mockingly. "Go down together, then."
He reached down and stroked her damp hair. He stared at the blood on his palm before washing it off in the kitchen sink.
For the tenth, and last, time, he walked around the house in search of her things. There was so much. Her bubble baths, her artwork, her hair extensions, pairs of shoes she'd only worn once, and misplaced jewellery overlooked during her hasty exit the day before.
Now the trunk was packed.
"Time to go," he said. "Say goodbye to the house."
He opened the toolbox under the stairs and slid his hands over the row of padlocks. His forefinger settled on the lock with a black tip, so he plucked it out and attached it to the trunk. Then he chose the biggest chain hanging from the wall and padlocked it around the trunk. He tugged on the chain but it stayed rigid around the trunk.
Carefully, lifting with his knees instead of his back, he carried the trunk over to the sofa. He pulled out the drawers in the sofa's base and tossed out the spare cushion and seat covers. Underneath was a thin, leather jacket, a pair of thick gloves and wellington boots - all were black. He got dressed.
Next, he carried the trunk outside, only stopping when he saw a light on next door. He hurried faster, puffing under the strain. Then he wished he'd burned the corpse, but it was too late now. The lights in the Franklins' living room and kitchen turned on. Eddy was shouting, and heavy footsteps stomped downstairs.
Neil's legs buckled. The trunk fell to the ground. He grabbed it and heaved, but there was a twinge in his back. He massaged the muscle, his back facing the Franklins.
"Who's out there?" Eddy called. "Cheryl? That you?"
Neil dared glance back. Eddy was in his pyjamas and slippers, a torch in hand. The beam slowly moved over Eddy's front garden, pausing on the rose bushes. The old man sighed. "Cheryl? I'm sorry..." He sniffled and slipped back into his home.
Neil lifted the trunk and placed it on the bulky black bags in the boot. The trunk wobbled, so he tied it down with straps. Now the trunk was secure.
He ran round the car and hopped into the driver's seat. His gloves gripped the wheel, steadying his shaky hands. After several deep breaths, he turned the key, sighing with relief when the engine purred. He kept his lights low and as dim as possible. Once he had reached the end of the street, he could relax, a little.
All he had to do was get there.
Knock knock.
Slowly he turned to the window. His foot wanted to slam down on the accelerator, but then Eddy opened the door. The men smiled at each other.
"Was that you I heard?" Eddy asked.
"Sorry. I tried not to disturb anyone."
"Tried and failed." Eddy tutted.
"...Can I help you?"
"Cheryl's gone. She wanted to poke around in your house. We argued. She's gone, like your missus."
Neil gripped the wheel tighter. He glanced at the handbrake, wondering if he could pull away fast enough.
"That dog's quiet...She took it?"
"Yes."
"Good. She treated it better."
Neil's left hand slipped down and grabbed the handbrake. He kept his eyes on Eddy.
"So," Neil said, "you haven't heard from Cheryl?" His eyes motioned to Eddy's house. "You should get back. She might call."
Eddy fiddled with his earpiece. "There! Now I'll hear it ring."
"Well, it's early, so you should get some rest." Neil managed to smile a little. "I've got a long trip. I'll keep an eye out for her."
"Long journey, eh?" Eddy sniggered. "Missus'll meet ya there?"
Neil nodded and pulled the door shut, but Eddy jammed his torch in the gap. He yanked the door open and struggled to get inside. Neil had to move into the passenger seat, whether he liked it or not.
"I know what's in the boot." Eddy's eyes bulged. "You little white punk!"
Neil switched off the engine. He looked around for a possible weapon. There was one, if he made it to the boot.
"Mister Franklin, what exactly did you see?"
"You puttin' her stuff in the back." Eddy leaned over, the stench of coffee and prunes hitting Neil's face. "What you gonna do with all those black bags, I wonder..." Eddy rolled down the window and shouted, "What yer up to, Neil? Leaving in secret? At five in the morning? Got somethin' yer not sharin'?" Then he thumped the horn over and over until Neil grabbed him by the wrists and squeezed so tight fear flashed across Eddy's face. The old rubbed his wrists before getting out. His eyes shifted to the car boot, then back to Neil.
"I'll look out for your wife. Just go home, okay?" Neil started the engine. "She'll turn...show up."
Eddy's eyes widened in fear. He rushed to the back of the car and tugged on the boot. Unsurprisingly that didn't work. Eddy stopped to dab his brow, huffing and puffing. Neil watched in the rear view mirror, trying to keep the grin off his face.
"Open it."
Neil shook his head and revved the engine. He put the car in reverse and let it lurch backwards, forcing Eddy off his driveway.
At first the old man backed away, pleading with his eyes, but then his gaze fell to the torch in his hand. He raised it and smashed the rear lights. The back plunged into darkness, but the sound of glass smashing continued. The racket moved from side to side before silence returned. Neil flipped on the headlights to full beam, lighting up the street. Eddy's manic eyes glowed, the broken torch in his grasp.
"Open it or I'll holler," Eddy said. "We both know I'll do it."
Neil considered reversing over Eddy until there was little left. When he closed his eyes, he could see the wheels crushing the old man's head.
When he opened his eyes, he was standing with Eddy by the boot. He looked over the broken glass crunching under their feet and cursed.
"I told you already," Neil whispered, "I'm going on a nice holiday. I had to pack something!"
"Open it."
"Look, I will pay you a grand if we forget this ever happened." Neil gave his friendliest smile. "Cash. I'll stop by the bank this morning, unless you have an online account? I could transfer the money right now."
"A bloody thousand pounds?" Eddy pointed the torch at Neil. "You think Cheryl's worth that?"
"Ten thousand? Fifty thousand?" Neil motioned to the house. "Take it. It's yours."
"You don't get it, do ya?" Eddy spat. He thumped the boot so hard it left a dent. "I want my wife back...Open it." He cupped his hands to his mouth and took a deep breath. And held.
Neil popped open the boot. Eddy's eyes motioned to the trunk, so Neil took off the chain. He stopped over the second padlock and looked up to Eddy.
"Eddy--"
"
Edward Michael Franklin III to you, little punk!"
"You really don't want to see this."
"Open it, darn it!"
Neil fumbled over the padlock, his hands sweaty. His mind churned through a trillion excuses for killing her, but the common sense part of his brain kept shooting each reason down. His teeth chattering, he lifted the lid and stepped back.
Eddy clamped his hands over his mouth, but vomit still trickled out. He turned away and sprayed sick onto Neil's driveway.
Minutes later, Eddy stumbled back to Neil, rubbing his stomach. The old man's pink, watery eyes were fixed on Neil's. Eddy offered his hand, a vomit stain on his sleeve. Neil patted the man's hand, regretting it the moment he touched the wet skin.
"Sorry, I thought my Cheryl was in there..." Eddy's eyes fell to the ground. "I'll clean up the mess tomorrow."
"No. Cheryl will do it when she gets back." Neil's smile was finally genuine. "We'll forget this happened, shall we?"
Eddy nodded and hurried back to his house. The downstairs' lights went out one by one, leaving the room upstairs.
That stayed on all night.