YOU'RE DEAD: Three Gripping Murder Mystery Suspense Novels

by Diane M Dickson

  “Yes, they are clearing up now, they reckon another couple of hours and the last of the cars and such will be gone. They are leaving it very neat up there. They took down the old shed and dug the whole thing over; inch by inch it seems to me.”

  “And Jared and his mother, what’s going to happen to them, do you know?”

  “Well, according to the Detective Inspector that I spoke to, there is a charge that can be made against Masie. She was an accomplice in perverting the course of justice. She was an accessory after the fact in the murders. Jared didn’t really do anything, he wasn’t involved in it, though he did conceal evidence later, but so much later. All in all though it seems unlikely that they will have to answer any charges. The old man, Jared’s grandfather, was a bit of a bully and his son used to beat his mum. Not surprisingly the poor woman just did as she was told.”

  “And this bloke Simon, who did the killing, do we know anything about him? Oh I don’t know that I really want to hear it, it’s all so awful.”

  “Hey, come on, don’t get upset.”

  “Well, it’s just so dreadful to think that poor Mildred has been out there all this time and no-one knew, and the housekeeper up there as well, and her husband thinking she’d run off or something.”

  “I know, I know, of course they weren’t there all the time. They hid the bodies up at the garden centre, well it was a smallholding in those days, there were sheds and livestock, pigsties and chicken runs, the whole lot, and so the police dogs couldn’t pick up any scent. There was no real reason to suspect them so I suppose they weren’t searched any more than anywhere else. Maybe nowadays it’d be different but things back then were much more basic, just men and sticks to poke around and what have you.”

  “I think they are going to sell up,” Freddy continued. “The police have pretty well demolished the older buildings anyway looking for clues. Though one has to wonder why, when Jared has told them all about it and his mother filled in the blanks. The saddest thing really is that with Simon being mentally disturbed he probably would never have gone to trial even back then.”

  “Why did he do it though?”

  “Oh well, as far as anyone can work it out from piecing together the parts of the story after all this time, he sneaked into the garden and he was picking flowers. Mrs Boulton surprised him and he pushed her over in panic. She must have hit her head because he told them she wouldn’t get up and he was so afraid that he tried to hide her under the shrubs. You know, she may not even have been dead at that stage. Anyway, when Mildred came out and found her she tried to pull her out, and Simon panicked and hit her with the spade. When he fetched his brother, Jared’s grandfather, there were two bodies. They thought he would hang and so they hid them until the search died down and then brought them back to the top of the garden to bury them. It seems that they thought that if they buried them here then no-one would ever connect them with the deaths. I suppose that might have been the case. Anyway with only Granddad being left on our side, and him not wanting to live here, the whole thing just simmered in the background until we moved in,” Freddy paused and shook his head.

  “Jared and his mother were terrified we would dig up the bodies and, with all the advances in detection, the police would somehow be able to trace the murder back to their place. I doubt they would to be honest but it was enough to make them panic. They watch the things on the television and DNA testing, that sort of thing, seems almost like some sort of infallible magic to them. They were desperate to buy that land, they had even tried to take out a mortgage to pay for it, but with no guarantee that we would sell they were on a hiding to nothing.”

  “It’s been awful for them hasn’t it, all this time hiding this horrible secret?”

  Freddy nodded.

  “Hey, are you okay to still stay here, you know, in the house? Dad has said that under the circumstances he’d be happy for us to sell and use the proceeds to move somewhere else.”

  Marsha glanced around the room; the evening sun slanted through the window and burnished the old dining table. She walked across and peered into the glowing surface. Her own face, calm and serene, gazed back at her. She knew without a doubt that all was well, that the restless spirit was sleeping and that now this house would be her home and she could be happy there. She smiled at her lovely fiancé.

  “I’m very happy to stay here. Is your dad still going to arrange for a funeral for Mrs Boulton?”

  “Yes, as soon as the police let us have the remains, Mrs Boulton has a spot in the graveyard next to her husband and Mildred will be cremated and I think we should just scatter her ashes in the hills, that’s where my grandfather is and I think that’s right.”

  “As soon as the police have gone let’s go and sit outside in the garden. I’d like that.” He leaned and took her hand.

  “Yes, me too.”

  Marsha decided that the next day, when the tape was moved and the police had gone, she would go up to the space at the top of the garden. If Mildred was to be cremated then the diamond ring could find a place in there where she had lain for so many years. She would take it when she was alone. And now she knew she would be alone, there would be no eyes watching and assessing from behind the shrubs and under hedges and she would bury it beyond the apple tree. She knew without a doubt that it had belonged to the poor woman and she must give it back. She couldn’t explain how she knew it was Mildred’s and had no intention of ever mentioning it, nor the sneaking feeling that she now understood that her accident in the garden had been something much more sinister. No good could come of revisiting that. There had been too much sadness and she wasn’t going to add to it. They were her secrets, just a couple more in the whole muddle of them but these were kept through kindness and she knew it was right.

  The End

  TAINTED ROSES

  Chapter 1

  Fiona turned off the shower and stepped from the cubicle; she wrapped herself in a towel and flicked a smug glance at her surroundings. It had been two weeks now since she had moved into her new house. She loved these gleaming tiles and the sparkling chrome, the endless supply of hot water and the heated rail. It was luxury, more than she could have hoped for when she had first decided to buy her own place but here it was, here she was, the queen of her little castle. She grabbed the corner of her towel and swiped a clear line through the steam clouding the mirror. The face staring back at her through the scented mist was beginning now to lose its tan but her hair was still streaked by sunshine. Her eyes, she didn’t look into her eyes, how long would it be before she could do that?

  In the spacious bedroom she twirled around, hugging the towel to herself and grinning inanely. She knew that it was decadent and her mother would call her daft but she couldn’t help herself. Her dream house at last, clean and fresh and all hers. The price had been high, a sacrifice and struggle but she had been prepared for it.

  Did a shadow pass through the smile? There was nothing to be gained starting down that road; she gave herself a mental shake, it was too late now, there was no way back, decisions had been made and actions taken, it was time to move forward. It wasn’t just the house, not the material possession alone, it was more. It was independence, maturity, a statement to the world, ‘I can make it, look, I am my own person’.

  Her mum had been dependent on Dad for everything, still was. Down the years she had taken little jobs but there was no career, just things to do to fill the time and earn some spending money. Now though, spending her days on housework and shopping, without even a pension in her own right, to Fiona she seemed like a non-person. Oh, she said it was fine, it was what she had expected, but it wasn’t, it was a total surrender of her life and independence; Fiona was having none of it. From her teen years she vowed that she would forge her own way and be beholden to no-one and here she was, on the way, truly on the way.

  When Granny had the stroke, things had begun to change. There had been no other option and she had done the right thing. The little terrace house was too small
for all of them and there was no way for her to stay there and see Granny in a home. The nurse’s accommodation she had moved to was pretty grim in truth. She found it difficult living in such a huge community and the constant parade every time she opened her room door was unsettling and exhausting. A shared kitchen and the sound and smell of other people at all hours was miserable, still she stuck it out. It was part of the price and she was willing to pay it, determined to make something of her life.

  The bedsit itself had that overused, over-occupied feeling that no potted plants and new bedding could disguise and there had been nights when she sat and cried with misery after a hard day on the wards, with study to do and no home comforts.

  When the bright day came at last and she finished her training it was the start of something bigger and better and it amazed her how rapidly things had improved. She moved into a bright clean senior nurse’s flat at a new hospital and had a couple of fun years. She made good friends and worked on her career. She wanted more though and the acknowledged way to get it quickly was to move abroad. It had been scary, and often during the selection procedure and the struggles with bureaucracy she had been tempted to throw in the towel and settle into the slower, traditional route. She hadn’t, she had gone and now owned this beautiful house, new and sparkling, freshly painted, double-glazed and centrally-heated. It felt like something from a film, it had all been worth it.

  Most of it had been worth it.

  Ikea had done her proud and her bedroom looked like a catalogue page, she had even bought the artificial lilies. She had almost convinced herself that it was ironic, but it wasn’t was it? No, she was living in a house from a magazine and if the magazine was the Ikea catalogue it didn’t matter, it was a dream come true.

  Still smiling she clopped down the oak stairs and into the bright kitchen to switch on the coffee maker. She expected that eventually it would all pale and become everyday but she was trying to prolong the newness and excitement as long as she could. Hard graft and sacrifice had bought this house and it was all her own work and she refused to feel guilty about the pleasure it brought her. She pushed away the other thoughts, there was no place for them now, the past was the past; she had to let it lie, otherwise, well, how could she survive?

  There had been five years working in oil rich countries, living in little more than cupboards and persevering in the face of language problems, dreadful homesickness and enormous cultural differences. Oh yes she had earned this and there was no need for her to feel anything but pleasure in it.

  The dining table and chairs perched under the window were backlit by diffused sunlight glowing through the sheer drapes. Lowering to a chair she reached over and with a flourish pulled back the curtains. The professionally landscaped garden, tiny little postage stamp that it was, had been a special offer to encourage buyers and she loved it, loved it, loved it. Floodlit at night, there was a tiny patio and just last weekend she had bought a teak lounger ready for the summer nights when she would recline with her wine and lose herself in the suburban peace.

  ***

  “What the hell? Hey, hey you!”

  There right before the window, stretched out on the new seat, she couldn’t believe it. A figure, in jeans and jacket with a hat pulled low on his forehead. How dare he? She ran across the kitchen, too astonished and angry to be afraid, she fumbled with the triple locking device and then, flinging back the wood, she leapt into the garden.

  “What the hell do you think you’re do…” The decking was empty, the chair was vacant. She spun towards the back entrance but it was closed. “Oh.”

  She strode to the gate, it was closed and locked. The garden was deserted but just a moment before she was sure, absolutely convinced, that there had been a man sitting on her patio.

  Chapter 2

  Visitors streamed through the ward doors. In deference to new guidelines there were no flowers, no cards and everyone stopped to rub anti-bacterial gel into their hands. Things had changed so much in the time that she had been away. As they wove their way through the flood of relatives Fiona turned to the girl at her side. Sharon, friend from the early days, long time support and now moving up in her career and her life. Fiona threw an arm around the other girl’s shoulder.

  “God, what a day. I thought it’d never end. I’m completely wiped out. Do you want to go for drink Fi?”

  Fiona glanced at her watch. “No, I don’t think so thanks. I wanted to get to the garden centre before they close. I want some pots for the patio. I’m really looking forward to the weekend. Is Simon going to make it?”

  “Yeah, yeah he’s coming. How many will there be?”

  “I think there are about twenty five. Do you think I’m mad having a barbecue in April?”

  “No, it’s a smashing idea. We’re really up for it, me and Simon. We’ll bring our cagoules. It’ll rain, you know, this isn’t the Middle East, in this part of the world a barbecue equals rain, if you’re lucky, and snow if you’ve been really bad. You haven’t been really bad have you?” The tall blonde giggled and nudged playfully at Fiona causing her to stagger slightly against the wall.

  Bad, had she been bad? She screamed silently, deep inside, Don’t – let it go, turn from the darkness. She drew in deep breaths, don’t think about it, not now, not now. She forced herself to smile as her friend chattered on, just an ordinary evening – it was just an ordinary evening.

  “God it’s good to have you back Fi. I missed you so much while you were away.”

  “Yeah well there comes a time when it’s over you know. When you’ve just had enough and you need to come back.”

  “I have to say it did all seem quite sudden, from my angle, you know. I was glad, of course I was but, well just a bit surprised that you hadn’t said anything in the letters and then bang you were back, buying the house and all that. Anyway, as I said I’m really pleased that you are and that it’s all working out for you. Have a happy time at the garden centre you little homemaker you and I’ll see you tomorrow. Let’s hope by then the juniors have found their brains and the consultants have found their manners.”

  “Yeah, as if.” They both grinned. “Is it only surgical wards that are like this? No, no don’t answer I like to think when it all gets too much I can transfer to medical and spend my days eating chocolates and reading patients’ magazines.”

  “Bye love, see you tomorrow.” Making her way to the car park on wobbling legs Fiona found herself fighting again. Struggling with the panic that threatened, the dark cloud hovering oh so near, looming ever on the horizon. She paused and laid her hands against the car roof, gulping air and blinking back tears. She had to deal with this, there must be a way to smother it, keep the horror away. She had managed up until now, surely the worst was behind her, she was safe here, back in her own country, her own circle, she was safe. A panic attack, that was all this was, stress induced tension; she would beat it.

  As soon as she was strong enough she climbed into the car and swept out onto the main road towards the plant nursery. She would just keep busy, find normal things to do and she would win through, there was no other option.

  ***

  Three hours later, standing back to admire the floodlit patch of tiny garden, she winked at her reflection grinning back at her from the glass in the patio doors. Yes, it looked good. The little pot-bellied barbecue was so cute and the shrubs were perfect in their matching ceramic containers. She nodded her head in satisfaction.

  Cool, really great. A quick round of the doors and windows and then she poured a glass of brandy to take upstairs, a naughty treat midweek but she reckoned she’d earned it. The hot shower eased her tightened muscles and when she slid between the covers sleep came and carried her away before she had time to finish the drink. As she relaxed into her dreams kindly thoughts flitted through her mind. Just one more shift and then three days off and the middle one was the housewarming party. It was really fantastic to be back, and everything working out so well. Better than she could have dared hope
…

  The morning was bright with birdsong. She hadn’t seen the patio in daylight and was so excited that she couldn’t even wait to get downstairs. Throwing back the drapes and pushing open the window she leaned out to admire her handiwork of the night before.

  “What the f… Oh shit.” She flew down the stairs, across the kitchen and out onto the ruined patio. Pots were in pieces where they had been flung against the wall. Soil and broken earthenware was scattered across the decking and the poor shrubs were upended on the lawn. The new barbecue was in pieces. She couldn’t believe the chaos and destruction in front of her. “How the hell has that happened?”

  The cast iron base was broken and the shards flung into the corners. It didn’t seem possible that a solid metal object that she had barely been able to lift from her car boot had been broken like a plastic toy. Tears dripped from the end of her chin as she looked at the ruin in front of her. Who on earth had done this, and why? Surely not kids, and surely not neighbours, she didn’t even know them yet. Could it be a fox or a dog? No, impossible for a little creature to do all of this, and with no noise to disturb her sleep.

  She flung herself back inside and grabbed the phone dialling three nines as she pulled a piece of kitchen towel from the roll to blot at the tears of shock and fury streaming down her face.

  Chapter 3

  “That’s terrible, Fi. You poor thing. What did the police say?” Sharon dragged yet another tissue from the box on the table between them and handed it across to Fiona who was sniffing and gulping, trying to regain some sort of control.

  She hadn’t intended to cry, didn’t know tears were close but once she started the story they had flooded across her cheeks and the sobs had overtaken her.

  Teetering on the edge, a step away from breakdown, tears and panic forever waiting in ambush, was it always to be like this? She gathered herself, tried to strengthen her voice, to shrug the distress away, put the thing in perspective.