Murder, He Wrote

by R. S. Higham

  “Mallory.” He said, not knowing if he should say ‘hi’ or not.

  “I’m sorry if I kept you waiting, I forgot my Fiancé took the GPS, I had to find you the old fashioned way.”

  “You should have called, I could have helped.”

  “It was easy up until Rochester Boulevard, and then I lost you for about ten minutes.”

  “This is Rochester Boulevard…”

  “It is? Oh God I’ve been going round in circles!”

  “Well, you’re here now, and really, thank you for coming. I know how you feel about me.”

  “Oh so I did make it clear, that’s good then. Now tell me about this plan.”

  James showed Mallory to his place feeling a bit of deja vu, after all she looked strikingly like Kate.

  “Can I get you something to drink?” He asked.

  “Orange, please.”

  James turned the tap on to let the water run cold before he poured in the juice.

  “Before you say anything, I know what you’re going to ask me to do.” Mallory said, leaning over the back of the couch.

  “You do?” James looked at her.

  “It’s obvious.”

  “Well, what do you think?”

  “I think it’s dangerous.”

  “It’s not dangerous!” James protested. “He’ll be so shocked to see you, I mean, to see Kate, he won’t have time to react.”

  “Are the police going to be waiting for us there?”

  “I’ve thought about that and…”

  “What do you mean and?”

  “Well, there’s no evidence against him except for my word, it’s not enough, I can’t let him get away with this.”

  “You’re not going to…”

  “I don’t know. I wanted your opinion.”

  Mallory took the juice and turned around so that her back was facing him. She had an expression of deep thought on her face and if she decided that killing Stacey, the man who murdered her sister was wrong she wouldn’t want James to see that she’d considered it. But she was considering it. What if James was right? She couldn’t let Stacey go free either. “How will you do it?”

  “Kill him?”

  “Yes, how would you do it?”

  “Hit him from behind maybe, take him by surprise.”

  “Whilst I distract him?”

  “Yes. Will you do it?”

  “I don’t want anything to do with the… killing.”

  “Neither do I, I’ll be gone before he’s hit the ground.”

  “And you won’t tell a soul?”

  “Of course not.”

  Mallory turned her back again to think. “How can I trust him?” For some reason she did. “I suppose we can try.”

  “It will be OK, I promise.”

  Mallory sighed. “So I stand in front of him whilst you go behind him and then what should I say?”

  “Just say whatever you think you should say. Pretend to be Kate.”

  “I think I can do that. Do I really look that much like her?”

  James studied her face. “Not so much like that, but keep your hair back and you can borrow some of my clothes.”

  “Your clothes?”

  “Yeah, she dressed pretty casual, tracksuits and hoodies.” James could read Mallory’s face, it said; “She was my sister, I should know that.”

  “This is closure.”

  “Murdering someone?”

  “It’s not murder, he isn’t human, he’s a cockroach who needs exterminating.”

  “Do you really think that’s what Kate would want?”

  “I don’t know but if we don’t stop him he’ll keep going.”

  Before Mallory could respond electronic music played out and she pulled her phone from her purse. “It’s my fiancé, I told him I had left something at the office.”

  “Hello? Hi honey, yeah I’m at the office now, I’ll be on my way back in a minute, OK, see you later.”

  “Are you going?”

  “Well, yes, I told him I’d only be an hour, tops. Call me when you’re ready, I’ll make some excuse, say I have a meeting out of town.”

  “Shall we meet at the park? It’s huge, dense trees. St John’s park it’s called. It’ll be on your GPS.”

  “Yeah, I’ll meet you at the entrance. Remember, call me when you’re ready.”

  “Sure, I’ll see you… when I see you then.”

  “OK, James.” They hugged, rather forcedly, but since they had formed a Bonnie-and-Clyde-like relationship it seemed necessary. He shut the door behind her and fastened the chain lock. Although it was only late evening James threw off his clothes and let them drop in a heap then crawled under the crisp bed sheets. It wasn’t long before he was asleep.

  Over and over he played out the scenario in his dreams; he and Stacey, an old fashioned show down, but before he could act he saw himself lying face down on the dirt. Every time he’d wake himself up but when he fell back asleep there he was dead on the ground.

  38

  He woke up in a sweat. Sunlight streamed in through the windows. It was late morning. James was thankful that he’d slept through despite those dreams, or dream. He must have slept peacefully eventually. There was a half empty bottle of water next to the bed, he fished it off and drowsily made his way to the bathroom sitting down on the toilet. He found himself nearly slipping back into sleep. Back into the bedroom James pulled on some fresh pants and flicked the kettle into action before spooning some coffee granuals into a mug. After it had boiled her stirred the hot water in and added a splash of milk. Considering it was the big day he felt surprisingly calm. Although he didn’t know if Mallory was expecting the call so soon but after speaking to her yesterday he knew he wanted to do it today. He couldn’t risk losing his nerve.

  It was 11AM, later than he thought. He needed to arrange the meeting with Stacey, make sure he would be where he was supposed to be and that he didn’t suspect a thing. James turned the front right hob on and filled an old pan with water, once the hob was hot enough he dropped two eggs into the pan and boiled them for 3 minutes. Egg soldiers, he thought, are not quite breakfast, not quite lunch. But he’d never been one to eat a heavy breakfast, it was generally cereals or just a coffee, his stomach craved something more this morning however. Tricking Stacey wouldn’t be easy, he was stronger than James so it was unlikely he’d believe he would face him alone, in a dense forest, at night. “Maybe if I offer him a deal.” He thought. “A trade, pay him to leave me alone. He might just believe that.” It would have to work; if Stacey didn’t agree to it then he might not get another chance to catch him.

  Today was rent day and he’d finally saved enough to pay Mr Baal what he owed him. He usually came round in the early afternoon so James headed out to the bank before he came knocking. The weather had improved, James even sweated a little under his heavy coat but not enough to remove it, every now and then the wind would pick up and it was icy. After withdrawing a few hundred dollars he knocked on the office door on the ground floor and handed the money over to Mr Baal to save him disturbing him later, although, with his dinner-badge encrusted top and discoloured underpants it became obvious why he didn’t start his rounds until later on.

  * * * * *

  4PM. The street lights burst into action as the sunset wasn’t far off. James still hadn’t arranged anything with Stacey, honestly, he was putting it off. He played with his phone in his hand, passing it between his fingers and chucking it up into the air. It was now or never.

  The second he heard that first ring his heart jumped into his throat. His body shook and started to sweat uncontrollably. He took deep breaths but he couldn’t calm himself, he could feel the adrenaline coursing through his veins.

  “Hello?” There is was, the voice of the devil, gruff with a hint of megalomania.

  “Stacey.”

  “James?”

  “Yeah.”

  “I’m impressed. I guess you ain’t chicken after all.”

  “You might change
your mind once you hear what I have to say.”

  “Oh yeah?”

  “I’ll pay you.”

  “Pay me?”

  “You heard me. I’ll pay you.”

  “Thought you didn’t have any money.”

  “I can get some, I just want you gone.”

  “Maybe I don’t wanna go. Maybe I’m enjoyin’ it.”

  “Please.” James whispered, his acting skills were coming along well, but deep down he truly was this desperate.

  “How much were you thinkin’?”

  “One thousand dollars.”

  Booming laughter charged down the phone and into James ear, he pulled it away.

  “Alright, two thousand. Please, what am I worth to you?”

  Stacey was silent for a while. Most likely determining how much James was actually worth. “I think you can go higher, the real question is how much is your life worth to you?”

  James could say any number he wanted, but that made him nervous. If he was serious it was unlikely he’d be prepared to, or even able to give him more than a few thousand.

  “Three thousand, and I’d have to leave my apartment.”

  “Show me the money an’ I’ll think about it.”

  "You’ll leave me alone?”

  “I’ll think about it.” He repeated.

  “Tonight?”

  “Huh?”

  “Can you meet me tonight? Get this over with.”

  “Ahright.”

  “Do you know St. John’s park? I’ll meet you in the woods.”

  “Alone- in the woods- with me, you really think that’s wise?”

  “I’ll put the money on the ground and back away, if you make a move before I’m out of sight I’ll run and shout for help. Something tells me I’m faster than you.”

  “You bein’ smart, boy?”

  “What do you say?”

  “Fine, but if there’s even a cent less than you promised you better buy a child sized tuxedo.”

  “…what?”

  Stacey laughed. James’s heart started to thump in his chest again. He swallowed. “He watched me with Paul?” The thought made him sick. “It’ll be over tonight, he won’t be able to touch him.” He forced his rage down into the pit of his stomach.

  “I won’t back out of it, it will all be there.”

  “What time shall we say?”

  “Earlier the better.”

  “Can’t wait to get rid of me?”

  “Yeah, something like that.” James guessed earlier would be easy for Mallory, not many people host business meetings past midnight.

  “Fine, I’ll be there at seven.”

  “Me too.”

  Stacey hung up just before James could say an awkward “goodbye”. He couldn’t shake the nervous feeling he had. “It’s natural.” He thought. “I’m about to face a killer; I’m about to kill a killer.” But it didn’t help, this wasn’t the movies, the good guys don’t always win.

  “I’m not a good guy, I’m just a loser trying to save my own skin.” He sighed, and picked the phone back up finding Mallory’s name then texting ‘Meet me tonight’

  He waited for a response.

  A minute later it buzzed and Mallory’s name appeared on the screen.

  “Was is St Johns park?”

  Did that mean she could make it tonight? James took it as a yes.

  “That's the one, half seven.” -SENT-

  Another minute passed, James’s thumbs twitched, he was all ready to send another text when the buzz nearly shocked the phone out of his hand.

  “OK” the screen read.

  39

  It had been a decidedly busy day for Mike who had been itching to get into his office since 3PM. It wasn’t until gone six that he was able to slip away and do his research on Audrey Hope. The noise of the station’s hub was locked away the second he shut his office door. The blinds were closed and now he could drift away from the place. When the blinds were drawn everyone knew not to disturb him unless it was absolutely necessary. He reclined on his computer chair whilst the out dated machine booted up. It was only a six year old model but with the rate of technology developing that was ancient. He had poured some coffee from the pot in the kitchen and was now sipping at it, his tongue burnt each time but he was choking. Finally the screen lit up and he typed in his password. He went into Google Chrome and searched for ‘James Jones author’ a few results showed up, a couple of pictures of James, he wasn’t well known enough to have whole websites dedicated to him but apart from the odd Amazon seller flogging his books for way below the retail price there was a publishing company that his name had been related to. He went onto the site. ‘Hope & Woodall Publishing’ Mike flipped open his note book, Audrey Hope. “Could be one of the founders.” He thought. There was a link at the bottom to view the founder’s profiles– rather an attempt at showing off what brilliant reputations they have. Once the page loaded a familiar face stared back at him. The woman in the alleyway. It was her, undoubtedly. Her strawberry blonde hair was swept back in an official up do and her face resembled starlets from the first Hollywood Golden age. She had an old beauty; she was probably a lot younger than she looked. Underneath her picture was some information, where about she lived, no exact address of course, and what year she and her friend Harrison Woodall had started the company. “I better find out this guy’s number and address and let him know what’s happened.” He thought before scrolling further down the page. There he saw what he had been looking for. A list of the authors on their books. There wasn’t many, twenty at the most, they were obviously only a small company, but that didn’t matter to Mike, he only wanted one man, and there he was. ‘James Jones (New Hatton)’.

  “Gotcha.”

  But that didn’t warrant an arrest, this wasn’t enough and he was the only police officer who knew anything about him, the chief inspector was at home resting a pulled back muscle and the other officers were usually coming to Mike for assistance, not the other way around.

  “I can’t miss my chance to catch him.” He said out loud. “If I search his apartment I might find evidence... Breaking and entering, cop or not that’s what I’d be doing.” He decided it was worth the risk.

  He checked his watch, 7:05 on the nose, he didn’t want to risk James being at home but if he was he would have to arrest him, if James had any idea he was onto him he would be gone and Mike would have to start from square one. “Wait a minute, I have the perfect excuse, Audrey Hope has been found dead; he doesn’t have to know I think he killed her. You can act nonchalant right?” He asked himself, biting his lip to disperse a smirk. “It’s now or never.” He said grabbing his coat. Yet another night he would be late for dinner.

  It took only a short drive to James’s apartment but Mike was nervous. He hoped he wouldn’t be in. “In and out, have a look around, keep everything tidy and be quick about it.” It was pitch black outside, the lights from the occupied apartments glowed like fireflies, there were many dark windows. Mike only hoped one belonged to James. He noticed his leg was shaking and stopped it, but it tingled so he started shaking it again. He knew what to say if he was in but it wasn’t that which bothered him. He didn’t want James coming home to find him in there, sniffing around. Then he’d know something was up. He took a deep breath. If James was out then he was wasting time. He got out of the car, slammed the door and walked into the lobby wiping his damp feet on the mat. There was no one there. He continued up the stairs without meeting anyone. He remembered which apartment it was, just down the hall.

  The doors all looked the same but Mike felt butterflies staring at this one, his nose almost pressed against it. He put his ear to it, there wasn’t a sound inside. He knocked, gently. No answer. He pulled out his I.D card and fiddled with the cheap lock until it clicked and the door slightly opened revealing a black interior. He pushed it open further; enough to see in clearly, the light from the window illuminated the outline of a kitchen and a couch. He stepped in and flicked on the light, whe
n no one protested he was confident that James was out. He let out a breath of air that felt like it had been stuck in his lungs.

  “Where to start?” He said aloud as he stepped into the kitchen and opened the cutlery draw. The knives were clean, naturally. If one had been used as the murder weapon James would have washed it, but for some reason Mike didn’t think any of them had. He pushed it closed and opened a few more cupboards before heading into the bedroom. There was a pile of dirty clothes on the floor, he rooted through them but there was no blood, which would have been miraculous. Mike cursed himself, it felt strange hoping to find some incriminating evidence but he was certain James was the killer and he was desperate to prove it.

  After five minutes of searching he started to feel on edge, it felt more like half an hour. He had been pushing his luck so far and it was time to leave, empty handed. He left the bedroom and walked through the living and into the kitchen before coming to the open door but he spotted something out of the corner of his eye.

  On the kitchen counter laid his mobile phone. “How did I miss this?” He ran over to it and clutched it in his talons like a vulture. He pressed a few buttons and the screen lit up, there was no lock. He thanked the Lord under his breath. He went into call log, sure enough there was Stacey, he’d phoned him recently. “I’m surprised he even exists; I could have sworn he’d made him up.” But it could have been a fake number. Mike went into messages. The most recent conversation had been between him and a woman named Mallory, he brought it up.

  Mike was silent and stood perfectly still trying to make sense of what he’d read. It was almost too good to be true. “He’s going to meet a woman tonight?” He said to himself as his brows furrowed. “Oh my God he’s there now!” Mike knew the park, St John’s, he’d been there loads of times. He threw the phone down and jogged out of the apartment letting the door slam behind him. Whilst he clumsily ran down the stairs he called into his receiver for backup.

  He dived into his car and threw it into drive slamming his foot down on the accelerator and barely checking the road was clear behind him. The park was a fifteen minute drive away but with the sirens he could make it in ten. A woman’s voice on the receiver asked for more information. Mike could only tell them there had been a murder, it wasn’t true, yet, but if Mike’s suspicions were correct it wouldn’t be long before there was.