by Daniel Hurst
MYSTERY AROUND MURDERED DIRECTOR REMAINS UNSOLVED ONE MONTH ON
But it’s not the eye-catching headline that grabs my attention. It’s the name in the article.
Charles Montague.
I take the ring out and double-check the name engraved on it with the name of the murder victim in the paper.
Charles & Mary Montague 23.05.70
Well, well, well. I guess there were more secrets in that safe than just the money.
Was Amanda related to this dead director? Is this her inheritance? Or did she kill this guy in the paper? Is she the one the police are looking for?
If so, we really had no idea who we were dealing with after all.
I shake my head in disbelief at my discovery. On one hand, this ring is potentially even more valuable than I realised if it belonged to a famous theatre director. But on the other, I’m carrying an item of jewellery belonging to a murder victim.
How would it look if I got caught with this?
It makes sense to me now why it took Amanda so long to give up the code. She wasn’t doing it to protect the money. She was doing it to protect her secret. If she obtained this ring illicitly, then it’s no surprise that she fought so hard to keep it locked away.
I close the newspaper and toss it onto the empty seat opposite me before taking another look at the ring. I can’t believe Louise’s mum is such a badass. I’m impressed. But I guess she isn’t as bad as me. I’m the one sitting here with all her things, after all.
I place the ring down on the table in front of me and take out my phone, deciding to see if I can get an idea of the valuation on this item of jewellery on the internet. As I do, I’m pleased to see that there have been no calls or messages from my partner in the last ten minutes. I guess after finally figuring out what I have done, he knows there is nothing he can do to catch me now.
I’m just about to Google ‘ring valuations’ when a blonde woman in dark sunglasses arrives at my table and smiles at me.
‘Is it okay if I borrow this newspaper?’ she asks, and I shrug.
‘Go for it,’ I say, returning my gaze to my phone.
The woman picks up the newspaper, and I expect her to continue to make her way to one of the many other empty seats in the carriage, but instead, she sits down opposite me at this table.
‘You don’t mind, do you?’ she says, and while I initially do, I realise it may not be such a bad thing after all.
So what if I had no luck with the redhead.
Maybe that’s because I was supposed to meet this blonde.
I smile at the woman as she settles into her seat, noticing that she is attractive from what I can see of her face behind the sunglasses. I’m surprised she hasn’t removed them yet, but I’m guessing she is wearing them to make a fashion statement rather than because it’s particularly bright on this train. She looks to be much older than me, closer to forty, but that doesn’t have to be a bad thing. After the last few weeks with a younger woman, maybe an older one is just what I need.
I decide to put my phone back into my pocket, figuring there will be plenty of time to try to get the ring valued when I get to Amsterdam. For now, I’ll try my luck with this pretty passenger opposite me. But before I initiate a conversation, I go to return the ring to my pocket.
That’s when the woman compliments me on it and asks if she can have a closer look.
I’m obviously reluctant to hand it over considering I now know what it relates to, so I need to reject her question but in a way that still makes me look good.
‘I’m sorry,’ I say, putting the precious ring on my finger. ‘It’s very valuable, and I worry when it’s in somebody else’s hands. Even ones as dainty as yours.’
47
AMANDA
I’m disappointed that James didn’t just hand me the ring, but I always knew it wasn’t going to be as easy as that. He looks so smug sitting there with it on his hand, and I’m sure he is looking forward to pawning it as soon as he gets to Amsterdam. But that won’t be happening now, nor will he be getting to spend any of the money that I know is packed into that rucksack on the seat beside him.
Now that I have found these things again, it’s time to end this, once and for all.
‘I understand,’ I reply, maintaining my pleasant demeanour. ‘It really is a beautiful ring.’
‘Thanks,’ he says, fiddling with it a little before turning the conversation back onto me.
‘So what takes you to Amsterdam?’ he asks while very deliberately using his ring hand to scratch his stubble, and I wonder if he is flashing the expensive item of jewellery at me on purpose. Is he trying to impress me? If so, then I don’t have to worry about him figuring out who I really am.
He obviously doesn’t have the slightest idea.
‘Pleasure,’ I reply, with a smirk, and he seems to like that answer.
‘And you?’ I ask.
‘The same,’ he replies.
‘Here’s to pleasure, then,’ I say suggestively, running my fingers through my fake blonde hair.
I wait for the passenger who has just entered our carriage to make her way past our table before I pick up my handbag from the seat beside me and take out the large packet of crisps inside.
‘You don’t mind if I open these, do you?’ I ask him. ‘It’s just I’ve been in such a rush all day, I’ve barely had time to eat.’
‘Not at all,’ he replies, and I smile again. He certainly wasn’t being this pleasant to me a couple of hours ago. Nor was he being this way with my daughter. It’s the knowledge of what he has put Louise through today that gives me the encouragement I need to do what I am about to do, guilt-free and conscience clear.
Just as I’m about to open the bag, I notice the commotion on the neighbouring platforms outside the train window. The crowd has grown larger as more and more people try to get a good look at what happened with the man who went under the train, and I know it won’t be long until the police are on the scene. I need to be long gone by then, which means I can’t afford to waste another second.
I put both my hands on the top of the crisp packet and pull as hard as I can, deliberately tearing the packet open too much and causing the entire contents of the bag to erupt all over both the table and my fellow passenger.
‘Oh, my gosh, I’m so sorry!’ I say, feigning horror at what I’ve just done. ‘I guess I don’t know my own strength!’
James doesn’t look to thrilled about what has just happened, but he’s a good sport, and he tells me not to worry about it, before doing the exact thing that I was hoping he would do.
He begins to pick up several of the crisps that have fallen onto his clothes and his rucksack, directly bringing them into contact with his skin.
I tidy up the crisps on the table at the same time for show, but I’m now just waiting for the real show to begin. I wonder how long it will take. Louise told me that it would be fast. Within seconds, she said. Was she exaggerating? Or was she right?
Ten seconds later, I get my answer.
A worried look suddenly flashes across James’s face, and he puts his hand to his throat, looking up at me with fear in his eyes.
‘Are you okay?’ I ask him, doing my best to pretend like I genuinely give a damn.
But he doesn’t give me an answer. He doesn’t have to. His red face says it all.
‘What is in those crisps?’ he asks me as he begins to grow more panicked by the second.
‘What do you mean?’
‘The crisps? Do they have peanuts in?’
I pull my face and play dumb, stalling for time because I know James is short of it now.
‘These? I’m not sure,’ I say, making a big point of checking the back of the packet for the ingredients. ‘I don’t think so.’
But James doesn’t seem convinced, and I expect him to tell me that they must do, except he says nothing and just focuses on trying to get some air into his lungs.
I guess it’s tough to hold a conversation when you’re strug
gling to breathe.
‘What’s the matter?’ I ask him, playing the role of the concerned stranger in case anybody else in this carriage has noticed what is going on at this table.
‘I’m allergic to peanuts,’ he gasps as he holds his throat and goes to get up out of his seat.
‘Oh, my God, I think they do have peanuts in!’ I cry, and I immediately get up out of my own seat and rush to his aid.
I put my hand on his shoulder, and while to an observer it would look like I am trying to help him, I’m really just pushing him back down into the seat to make sure he can’t get off this train and seek help.
‘In my jacket pocket,’ he says, and I see him fumbling to take something out.
It’s an EpiPen, the only thing now that could save him.
‘You’re going to be okay,’ I tell him as I take the injectable device from him though I have no intention of using it. Instead, I slip it into my handbag before taking him by the hand and giving it a squeeze to show him my support.
As he continues to struggle for breath, I use my free hand to take out my phone.
‘I’ll call for help,’ I say, and he nods his head desperately, clearly aware that he isn’t going to last long without medical assistance. But really, I’m just doing this to kill a few more precious seconds, seconds that I know are vital to his chances of survival.
As I hold the phone to my ear, I use my other hand to slide the ring off his finger, and that’s when he realises that I might not be as friendly as he thought.
The grin on my face confirms it.
Lowering the phone and dropping it into my handbag along with the ring, he now knows that I’m not trying to help him at all.
‘This is for Louise,’ I say, leaning over him and whispering into his ear as he chokes to death. ‘And this is for me.’
I pick up the rucksack from the seat beside him and sling it over my shoulder before grabbing my handbag and heading for the door. But before I leave, I take one last look at James as he takes his last few breaths at the table.
His eyes are red and swollen, but I know he sees the smile on my face right before I step off the train and onto the platform.
Once out of the carriage, I vanish from his sight amongst the hordes of passengers here who will keep me well concealed as I make my way out of this station and to somewhere safer where I can get changed out of my disguise. I know I’m running purely on adrenaline right now, and the enormity of what has happened will hit me soon, but I need to be far away from here before then. The police are going to be looking for me shortly once they check the surveillance footage from both the platform where I pushed the man and the train where I put James into anaphylactic shock, so I’d better make sure I don’t look anything like this for too much longer. But I’ll be sad to take off this wig because it’s served me well over the last half an hour.
I guess it’s true what they say.
Blondes really do have more fun.
48
AMANDA
THREE MONTHS LATER
I find myself staring out of the window a lot these days. At first, I put it down to the fact that I’m a full-time writer now, so daydreaming is just a part of the job. But then I realised it had nothing to do with seeking inspiration from the outside world, and had more to do with the fact that I’ve never actually had a decent view to enjoy in the past. All my previous homes have either looked out onto a dreary street or a brick wall, so my current home marks quite the change. From where I am now, I can see rolling green hills all the way down to the sea on the horizon. This is definitely a view worth looking out of the window for.
But I didn’t rent this cottage in the East Sussex countryside just to gaze longingly at the scenery all day. I did it because it was a quiet place to come to get my book finished, so with that in mind, I turn my head away from the window and back towards the laptop on this desk. These words aren’t going to write themselves, and I didn’t go through everything that I endured over the last few years just to waste it all being lazy.
Within seconds, my fingers are tapping the keyboard again, and I feel better for it. Not only is this what I’m supposed to be doing, but when I write, I completely forget about the past and the events that led to me being here right now. But only for a moment. As soon as my hands stop typing and my head swivels back to that window beside me, I’m reminded of what I did and who I had to become just to give myself this opportunity.
I thought I’d experienced enough drama for one lifetime after that night in Charles’s apartment, but it turned out that was merely a precursor to the events that were to come a month later on the train. But just like the situation with Charles, I ended up being the last one standing. Both James and his partner are dead. Not many people can survive being pushed under a moving train or coming into contact with peanuts when they are severely allergic. Of course, my intention at the time was never to kill those men, just like I never intended to kill Charles. I was merely doing what I needed to do to survive. I only wanted to disable them so I could make my escape and preserve my safety, but in all three cases, the men died.
Do I feel bad about what happened?
Of course.
But would I do it all again if the circumstances were the same?
After many sleepless nights since, I have to say that yes, I would.
I’m not going to regret accidentally killing a man who was trying to rape me, just like I’m not going to regret killing the two men who threatened my life and the life of my daughter. The simple fact is that they would still be alive now if they were good men. All I have ever tried to do is get what I want, but I never did it to the detriment of another human being. Unfortunately, not everybody has that same control. Some people try to get what they want regardless of who they will hurt in the process. Those three men were like that, and the world is a better place now they are no longer in it.
I sit back in my seat and think about how lucky I am to be able to do what I love every day. I no longer commute on a busy train. I no longer have to sit in meetings and pretend to look interested. And I no longer have to put on a wig and pretend to be someone I’m not as I sit across a table from a guy who is paying me to be on a date with him.
All the hard work and sacrifices have been worth it, and while it was a wild and unpredictable ride to get to this point, now I have accomplished my goal. I wake up every day in a lovely cottage in the countryside and write words on a page. It’s all I ever wanted to do, and now I get to do it. I even have a publisher interested in reading this book when it’s finished.
Oh my.
But perhaps the best thing to come out of this whole thing is not my new career, but my new relationship with my daughter. After years of arguments, door slamming, and disappointment, we are now getting on better than ever. A lot of it has to do with what we went through together on that fateful day three months ago when she was held at knifepoint, and I was blackmailed into opening my safe. I guess no relationship would be the same after something like that. But I think the main thing that the whole experience taught us was that we weren’t as different as we thought.
We’re both stubborn, and while that led to a lot of arguments in the past, it also led to neither one of us giving up easily in the face of danger that day. We both kept secrets, me with my past and her with her “boyfriend”, and we both now know that keeping things from each other is more trouble than it’s worth. We’re also both dreamers, her with travelling and me with writing, and while that used to be the cause of many disagreements, we can now see that we share that same zest to achieve our goals that so many other people in society lack.
I used to think we argued all the time because we were so different.
But it turned out it’s because we are too similar.
Thinking of my daughter now makes me wish I could speak to her, but that isn’t an easy thing to do these days. That’s because she’s currently over six thousand miles away exploring Vietnam while I’m sitting here in this cosy little hid
eaway in the English countryside. I do miss Louise, but I’m happy she has gone because I know it’s what she wants to do. Once the dust had settled after the events at St Pancras Station and I had made it home safely with the money intact, I told my daughter that I would give her the funds to go travelling. To my surprise, she initially refused, telling me that I had made enough sacrifices for her over the years and that money would be better spent pursuing my dreams instead of hers. But as always, I disagreed with my daughter, only this time it didn’t lead to an argument. It led to her wrapping her arms around me and declaring me to be the best mum in the world. While I’m not sure I will ever deserve that lofty title, I do know that she is happier now than she has been in a long time, so I must have done something right.
It’s been a couple of days since we last spoke, the wonders of modern technology allowing her to video call me from an internet café in Hanoi and update me on her adventures. She’s already been through Thailand, and her next stop is Indonesia, but she somehow managed to find the time in her busy schedule to give me a quick call and tell me that she loves me. The money I gave her is allowing her to see the world, and I know she will return a more grown-up and well-rounded individual. That’s if she returns at all. She’s already talking about the possibility of heading to Australia once she is done exploring Asia, which sounded expensive to me, right up until the moment she told me she had already been looking into how to get a job to fund her stay while she is over there.
My daughter talking about getting a job?
I had to hold on to the desk to stop myself falling over in shock.
But the best thing about seeing my daughter so happy now is that it makes me feel happy too. I’d spent so long focusing on my own goals that I neglected hers, but that dramatic day a couple of months ago gave me a wake-up call and showed me that my daughter and I are a team and not just two clashing opponents.