The 13th Destiny_Heaven's Deadliest Sign

by Roger David Francis

  “Can I help, mum?”

  Beth swung round. “How long have you been listening at the door?”

  Jason shrugged his bony shoulders. “Long enough. There’s some funny stuff been going on the last few days, is it down to you?”

  Beth stared at her son, bewildered. She’d imagined he was immune from real life, his mind connected to his computer, only interested in his fantasy world, unaware what was going on around him. Seemed she was wrong.

  “Yes,” she whispered. “I’ve got myself caught up in something strange. I don’t want you involved in it, I’m sorting it, Jase.”

  “I think you need my help. You don’t have to tell me anything but if you need to locate someone with a Gemini star sign I know a lot of people. Give me the phone number and I’ll sort it out.”

  “How? There’s hardly any time left and you have to get twenty pounds off them.” Beth laughed shakily, “I don’t think many of your friends have twenty pounds to spare.”

  “I know someone who does. Trust me, mum.”

  Wordlessly because there was nothing else she could do, Beth handed her son the leaflet with Shandra’s number on. Jason took it with a small smile.

  “I’ll be in my room,” he said and sloped off, shoulders hunched up the stairs.

  Chapter 19

  Arthur Canton was a cautious suspicious man by nature, though he tried to keep that side of him well hidden. He believed he was well loved for being a Jack the lad, always up for a bit of banter, especially if it included sexual innuendo. But not for one moment had he believed the claptrap Beth had spouted.

  He was too long in the tooth to have the piss taken out of him. He knew all about hidden camera’s; pranks played on vulnerable old aged pensioners so they could be shown up on you tube looking stupid. Well, she picked the wrong man to mess with. He might be old but he had his wits about him. The only person who was going to end up with egg on the face was Beth. She was the loser handing him twenty pounds.

  He thought about her now, she was wearing well, he’d give her that, still had nice tits. Not that he was ever going to get his hands on them. He flexed his fingers and grinned; wouldn’t stop him trying though. He was master at the accidently on purpose brush against women’s breasts and bottoms. They never saw it coming and because they couldn’t believe someone in this day and age would dare openly assault them they always smiled, accepting his false apologies.

  That old bag he’d spoken to on the phone had probably been Beth’s grandmother, in on the joke. He recalled the conversation and tittered. It would take a clever person indeed to get one over on him.

  “This is Shandra, how may I help you?” As soon as Arthur had heard the voice he’d known he was being played. Nobody talked in that crackly raspy voice unless they were smoking eighty cigarettes a day or trying really hard to disguise their own voice.

  “My name is Arthur and I’d like to make a wish please.” He’d tittered, quickly turning it into a cough.

  “Certainly Arthur, it would be my pleasure.”

  I bet it would, you stupid old tart, Arthur thought. He could imagine her, bony and ancient, a knitted shawl round her shoulders as she sat in her rocking chair thinking she had another fish dangling on the end of the line waiting to be conned. And of course Beth would be sitting next to her urging her on, a silly grin on her face.

  “Could you give me your full name?”

  “Arthur Bartholomew Wilkes.”

  “Now, my dear, I think you’re pranking me. Would you like to try again?”

  Startled, it had taken him a moment to realise that Beth had probably got his details from work, there was no other way the old bat on the end of the phone could have known he was fibbing.

  “Arthur Wilfred Canton.”

  “That’s better. And your birth date?”

  “27th March.”

  “Aries, so you’re a passionate man, Arthur?”

  Sniggering, Arthur replied, “It’s been said.”

  “You like to think of yourself as a bit of an old rascal but there’s more to you than that, isn’t there?”

  “I don’t know what you mean.”

  “Yes you do. You haven’t always kept it in your trousers, have you, my dear? You’ve been very good at helping yourself to the goods, taking what isn’t yours. Do you even understand that no means no, Arthur?”

  Now Arthur knew he was being played. Nobody, but nobody could possibly know what he’d done years ago. It was his special secret and he’d made damn sure he kept it to himself.

  “You know nothing.” Arthur gasped.

  “I know everything, Arthur.” Shandra said and chuckled.

  “Up yours.”

  “Now, that’s not very nice my dear, is it? Do you remember those two young women you dragged into the woods and raped? I bet you do, in fact I think you dream about them at night. They reported you to the police but you were never caught, you were too clever. You lived many miles away and never went back. You were a lucky man to get away with it Arthur. Do you know because of your greed that night, you ruined their lives?”

  Arthur couldn’t speak. This evil woman knew things about him that he’d never told a soul. It had happened a long time ago when he’s been a comparatively young man in mid thirties. He’d been camping wild in the woods. He certainly hadn’t meant for it to happen but they’d come along and set up their tent next to his. “You don’t mind, do you?” They’d asked. “We feel safer with a man around.”

  What fun they’d had that first day. Arthur had been so helpful, telling them naughty jokes as he’d fixed their tent poles together, making them giggle at his innuendos. Trouble was, they’d giggled so much they hadn’t seen his eyes gleaming with lust when they’d lain down to sunbathe in their little itty bitty bikinis.

  He’d made them cocoa and crushed sleeping pills into the two mugs, smiling and laughing with them while they drank it. He was always laughing in those days. Good old Arthur, what a rascal he was. Harmless though. When they were unconscious he’d dragged them behind their tent and raped them. They’d asked for it, they way they’d flashed their bronzed sun ripe bodies in front of him. He’d believed that then and he believed it now. He could still see them in his mind’s eye, running and leaping around the small campsite in their tiny shorts and halter tops, what did they expect? He’d immediately packed up his tent and belongings and left, and of course he’d never told a soul. It was his secret.

  He tried to think how this old woman could have found out. Maybe his bedroom was bugged and he talked in his sleep, because she was right of course, he did dream about them. Or maybe she hadn’t really said anything at all and he’d imagined it. Lately it seemed his mind played tricks on him.

  “So what is your dearest wish, my dear?”

  That was more like it. And now Arthur was beginning to enjoy himself. After all, it wasn’t her fault he’d slipped into some sort of weird dream while she was talking to him. He took a deep breath.

  “I want the coffee shop to burn down.” He laughed out loud. Geoffrey, the bastard had sacked him off and not one of his co-workers had spoken up for him, it was no more than they deserved. And if the old witch on the end of the phone didn’t make it happen then he would. “Hello? Did you hear what I said?”

  There was no reply, Arthur hadn’t expected one.

  Working at the coffee shop had been a pleasure, a joy that had been snatched away from him by greedy Geoffrey’s desire to save himself a few pounds in wages. In his mind Arthur imagined Geoffrey nodding off in the stockroom of the shop unaware that an electrical fault had developed, the wires crackling until a single spark landed on a piece of paper. And while Geoffrey slept on the flames would build, licking at the tables and chairs, destroying the bastard’s kingdom, and finally they’d reach into the stockroom where Geoffrey sat snoozing. He would only wake up when it was too late, when the smoke rose into his nostrils and the hot burning flames licked at his feet.

  He’d probably escape. Men like Geoffrey
always managed to wriggle out of bad situations, he was one of life’s winners, but oh, what a mess his shitty little coffee shop, his empire, would be.

  Arthur spluttered with laughter and then sobered up. It was all nonsense of course, Beth had been winding him up but he couldn’t get the image of the flames out of his mind. His thoughts kept going to the second drawer down in the sideboard. Tucked at the back was a set of keys to the coffee shop that he hadn’t handed in when he left. It had been his job to lock up most evenings and like a fool Geoffrey had trusted him. He’d sweep up, wipe down the counter and then help himself to whatever he fancied, usually a Cappuccino and a cream doughnut. Sometimes he found a few coins or a piece of jewellery dropped by customers which went straight into his pocket. It had been his favourite time of day, on his own in the shop, not answering to anyone.

  So he had the keys to the shop, what was he going to do about it?

  Arthur bit at his thumb nail, his heart beating a bit faster than he would have liked. He wasn’t against a bit of petty thieving, a smidgen of criminal damage, but he’d never set fire to a building before and he wasn’t sure he could do it.

  He straightened up and scratched his head. Why the hell not? All he needed was a box of matches, it was the easiest and cheapest of crimes to commit. He knew the coffee shop shut at seven o’clock, it was now six thirty.

  Arthur settled back in his chair to wait.

  It had been a long day and Abby’s feet were aching. She wished she could phone Beth up for a chat but things had been strained between them. She knew it was unfair of her to blame her friend, it wasn’t Beth’s fault she had the mother-in-law from hell and her husband had kept a terrible secret from her.

  Abby sighed. Strangely she’d been happier when she’d not known her mother-in-law was dead. Everything had seemed easier, she’d known her role in life, what was expected of her, her path had been set in stone, or so she’d thought. But then of course she’d believed she had the best husband in the world. Now she felt like she was drifting. It seemed the death of her mother-in-law had taken its toll on her sanity. She had to accept that she’d played a role in her demise and the price she was paying was being followed around by the ghost of Vera wherever she went.

  It wasn’t enough that Vera was in her house now her dead mother-in-law had taken to joining her at the coffee shop. She was standing next to her right now.

  “You’re going to be late home again; Joe will be waiting for his tea.” Vera grumbled. “I know you can hear what I’m saying, I don’t like being ignored.”

  Tough, Abby thought and continued to put the empty cups of coffee onto her tray, giving the table a quick wipe over.

  Vera was pointing at a spot of tomato ketchup Abby had missed. “You never were very thorough.” She complained.

  Abby flicked the messy dishcloth into Vera’s face. “You seem to be in my way,” she said.

  “You bad girl,” Vera whined, “now my head aches.”

  Abby glanced at her, at the dried blood on her forehead where she’d fallen out of her chair. Don’t they have washing facilities in Hell, she wondered.

  “You’re dead,” she said flatly.

  “Less of that, my girl. You can’t get rid of me by pretending I’m not here. I’m going nowhere.”

  “I wish you’d burn in hell.” Abbey told her as she carried the tray to the kitchen area. Fortunately there was only one customer left in the shop, old Mr Winslow who was as deaf as a post.

  Vera brushed against her and Abby smelt something nasty like rotting flesh. She cringed and plunged her hands into a sink full of sudsy water. “Go away, you can see I’m busy. I don’t care if your head aches because maggots are crawling around inside your brain; I just want you out of my life.”

  “I’m going to tell Joe what you did.” Her sly mother-in-laws voice hissed.

  Abby froze, her hands deep in the water. What she did? What exactly did she do? She frowned.

  Vera was cackling in her ear. “I know you never liked me and the feeling was mutual. You were never good enough for my boy, he deserved better than a slutty little waitress for a wife, but a murderer? What do you think he’ll say when he finds out his precious wife left his beloved mother to die and did nothing to help her? I wonder if he’ll still think the sun shines out of your backside when I tell him that.” Vera laughed unpleasantly.

  Abby dried her hands on a tea towel. “Do you know what I’m going to do?” she said slowly. “I’m going to arrange an exorcism of the house to get rid of you, what do you think of that?”

  Shockingly Vera laughed. “It’s an exorcism of your brain you need, you silly girl. You’re never right in the head.”

  Abby turned and faced her. “Maybe you’re right. You’re not real, you’re here because I feel guilty about leaving you to die, but not anymore. I’m glad. I wanted the house for me and Joe and I’ve got it, and do you know what, Vera? I’m glad you’re dead, now piss off back to whatever black hole you crawled out from and leave me to get on with my life.”

  Vera shimmered for a few moments, her mouth open in shocked disbelief before disappearing.

  Old Mr Winslow had left, leaving her a small tip and Abby decided to close the shop early. As she walked away she didn’t see the man hiding behind one of the parked cars watching her.

  Fiona was peering out of her front window. She turned and looked back into the room.

  ”Look at her, swaggering up the road without a care in the world. She owes me.” She said.

  Liam looked uncomfortable. His mum had fixated on his best friends mum, Beth. She was blaming her for his dad’s death. Liam didn’t know why but his mum was changing. She was secretive and she’d started talking to herself, muttering under her breath when she thought she was alone. He was worried about her.

  “Leave it, mum,” he said.

  “I can’t. It’s because of her that your father is lying on a mortuary slab.”

  Liam didn’t believe that. He was convinced that if he hadn’t been so selfish and sneaked off to Jason’s house then his dad wouldn’t have come after him, wouldn’t have crossed the road without looking and wouldn’t have got run over. If anyone was to blame it was him.

  He thought maybe the shock of his father’s death was finally sinking in. It had been terrible, seeing his dad smashed up in the road but his mum had been great, telling him they’d be fine, just the two of them, except now she seemed to have changed, become morose, angry almost. It was obvious that losing her home had upset her much more than losing her husband. She was staring out of the front window watching Beth walk by.

  “I need to speak to her,” she mumbled.

  “No, really, you don’t, it’s not fair to blame her.”

  Fiona walked across the room and stood in front of him. “We have to leave our home in a couple of weeks, how is that fair?” She shouted.

  Liam shook his head mutely. “It isn’t, but we’ll manage. We’ll rent a flat, it’ll be okay.”

  “It’ll never be okay again, don’t you understand?” Fiona’s eyes flashed angrily.

  Liam could see how distraught she was but he didn’t know what to say to comfort her. Resigned, he could only sit there while she put on her coat and marched to the door.

  “I won’t be long,” she said and slammed out of the house.

  Liam phoned Jason.

  “Don’t let my mum in,” he told him. “She’s angry and she needs time to cool down.”

  “She’s ringing the bell now,” Jason said. “I think it’s too late.”

  Liam sat back, all he could do was hope Beth could calm his mum down.

  Abby was waiting for Joe to come home. Her whole body was trembling with fear and anxiety but she knew she had to face up to what Joe had done. It didn’t matter that her mother-in-law was sitting in her chair opposite her in the living room waiting for Abby to fetch her dinner, food she could never eat, all that mattered was confronting her husband with his terrible crimes.

  How could she go
on living with him knowing what he’d done? She tried to imagine what had drove him to it, what had been going on in his mind when he was stabbing those poor women to death. And why would he take Selfie’s of them, to look at later, enjoy the murders all over again? She thought she knew him but somewhere along the way she’d missed the signs of his madness.

  She wasn’t alone, she knew, Abby had read about other wives of serial killers who’d been completely oblivious to their husband’s nocturnal murdering sprees. But Joe, her sweet, considerate, hard working Joe? His face appeared in front of her, he was smiling as if he didn’t have a care in the world.

  “Why would you do such a terrible thing?” She whispered.

  But Joe was still on his way home from work.

  He would know that she’d found out because the suitcase with the implements of his torture were next to her on the settee.

  “I’m looking forward to this,” Vera spoke suddenly. She seemed to be staring at Abby with hate filled eyes. “It’s time for a showdown; it’s long overdue. I’m glad I’ve been allowed to come back and take a ringside seat.”

  “You’re disgusting.”

  “And you shouldn’t speak ill of the dead.”

  “You’re sitting in your favourite armchair waiting for me to serve up your tea, tormenting me, you might as well still be alive. I don’t want you here, why can’t you understand that and go and find yourself a rat infested corner in Hell to squat in?”

  Vera was grinning, her toothless mouth pulling downwards. “It doesn’t matter what you say or do, girl, you can’t get rid of me.”

  Abby didn’t answer, there was no point. She’d thought she’d got rid of her ghostly tormentor but it seemed Vera wasn’t done with her yet. She was settling her stinking corpse further down in the armchair, enjoying herself too much to leave. Maybe, Abby thought it was for the best. Her mother-in-law should know what a monster she’d brought into the world.

  The key rattled in the front door and Joe came in.

  He stopped in surprise when he saw Abby sitting on the settee. Of course he’d expected her to be in the kitchen making his tea like a good little wife. Joe liked routine, it made him feel secure. Abby wondered if the women he’d butchered to death had liked routine too. She watched as his eyes travelled from her face down to the suitcase lying next to her and she felt her world begin to tilt as his eyes opened wide in horror. His next words sent a shiver of terror through her.