The Boathouse Killer

by Keith Finney

  "Lucky it turned just in time. Even though those things don't have any weight on them, they can still cause a right mess."

  Lyn shook her head.

  "Wouldn't have been particularly therapeutic for Bambi either, eh?"

  Ant was already back on the hunt for the 4 x 4, dismissing Lyn’s observation with a grunt.

  "We’re losing the light, and they’ve disappeared, damn it," said Ant as the Morgan shot back onto the carriageway and sped towards Cambridge. "This is hopeless. Listen, give Riley a ring and see if he can give us directions."

  Lyn grabbed Ant’s mobile and tapped in the detective's number, looked across to Ant, and waited for Riley to respond.

  "Blast it, the signal's dropped out."

  Ant’s attention was suddenly elsewhere. He let out a sudden whoop of excitement, making Lyn jump.

  "Doesn't matter, there she blows." He pointed towards a clump of trees to their right about a mile ahead.

  "What?"

  "Laser light. That green thing. Can’t you see it?"

  Now that she knew what she was looking for, it stood out like a sore thumb.

  "Good heavens. Riley said some kids had been using a laser light to distract local aircraft, except—"

  "Except," interrupted Ant, "we’re not talking about kids distracting the pilot, are we? If I’m right, whoever is holding that light is doing the exact opposite."

  Lyn nodded.

  "So she’s guiding an aircraft onto the old landing strip. Tricky to land on something that was last used in 1945?”

  Ant smiled as he took a right turn across the carriageway and propelled the Morgan up a dusty trackway. Ahead, lay a small gap in a thick clump of trees.

  "I guess if you're desperate enough, you'll try anything." Ant turned the Morgan's engine and headlights off and allowed the car to coast to a stop.

  "Come on, Lyn. Quietly does it. Stay within the treeline with me, so we can get as close as possible without spooking them. We need that plane to land."

  Ant put his military training to good use as he navigated through the close columns of pine trees that held sentinel between friend and foe.

  "I can see them," whispered Lyn. "Look, over there."

  Slowly, slowly does it.

  Barely twenty feet now stood between them and two women, their backs to Ant and Lyn, with one holding a laser pen pointing to the star-filled night sky.

  One more push.

  Ant signalled for Lyn to stay close as they crept forward and closed the final few yards.

  "Good evening, ladies."

  Hannah and Annabelle visibly jumped and look stunned as they turned from the rear corner of the Range Rover to face the intruders.

  Got you.

  "You took some catching," said Lyn.

  Hannah attempted to distract Lyn, while Annabelle pointed a pen-like laser back into the darkening sky.

  Ant ignored the woman’s actions as he inspected the front of the 4 x 4. He found what he expected. The corner of the vehicle showed signs of damage with paint residue etched into its surface.

  Hannah looked at Annabelle, who continued to scour the sky for signs of an aircraft. Her face lit up as she caught a first glimpse of a moving light in the heavens. Ant noted Annabelle was pointing the laser slightly below its source.

  Don't want to blind the pilot, do we?

  Seconds later, a four-seater plane touched down on a short strip of concrete that had remained intact from its wartime use. The plane's propeller was still running with the engine over-revving.

  Not the first time he's done a quick turnaround.

  He turned to Hannah, who wore a look of desperation.

  "It’s my only chance. The police blame me for stealing Geoff’s body. They think I murdered my husband. Annabelle has arranged all this for me. Please, let us go."

  Before either Ant or Lyn could respond, the two women ran towards the aircraft's open passenger door and started to clamber aboard.

  As Ant chased after them, the sound of a police car siren outdid the roar of the plane’s engines as it turned and started to taxi. Its progress was halted as Riley’s car pulled up a short distance in front of the plane, effectively blocking any escape.

  Detective Inspector Riley sprang from his police Jaguar.

  "So you were right," he said to Ant as the policeman pulled open the passenger door, shouted at the pilot to cut the engine, and peered inside at the two passengers.

  "Hannah Singleton, I arrest you for the murder of—"

  Ant interrupted Riley as Hannah looked forlornly at the floor.

  "It wasn’t Hannah, Detective Inspector. Annabelle Emms murdered Geoff Singleton." Ant's voice lacked any sign of emotion as he glared at Annabelle.

  Riley frowned.

  "You said—"

  "I," interrupted Ant, "said she was responsible, and that I could prove it. I didn’t say which of them murdered Mr Singleton."

  Hannah protested as Riley ordered both women to leave the plane.

  "No, no. You have it wrong. Annabelle is helping me to escape. She did not kill my husband. Why would she?"

  Annabelle's shocked look reinforced Hannah’s plea.

  Ant allowed stillness to descend. For a few seconds, the only sound came from leaves rustling in the light breeze of a cool evening.

  "We were all together in the pub garden the day Geoff died. How could I have anything to do with the death of my dearest friend?"

  Who's the cool one, then?

  Ant smiled.

  "Geoffrey had a heart problem; everyone knew that," Annabelle continued. "Hannah knows what happened. His heart gave out, just like his uncle. Why do you make these things worse for her? You are a cruel man."

  Ant noticed Riley giving him a stern look and guessed he had no intention of being made to look a fool again.

  "Correct on both counts."

  Annabelle started to smile.

  "But," Ant continued, "there are many ways to make a heart stop. Sometimes the body does this itself. Other times something is done to make it stop. And that’s what you did, wasn’t it, Annabelle?"

  Ant looked deep into her eyes to determine if his hypothesis held up. Hannah shook her head.

  "No, no… you are wrong, mad."

  Lyn held out a hand to Hannah.

  "I’ve told you. I was at the BBQ. You saw me. Jakub must have killed Geoff. I told you how jealous he was and that I’d seen him in the village."

  "Ah, yes. Well, I spoke to that gentleman. He maintains Hannah rang him to say she needed his help."

  Hannah pulled away from Lyn.

  "I did not speak to him. Why would I do this?"

  Riley’s neck swivelled from side to side like a spectator at a Wimbledon tennis final.

  Ant changed tack.

  "Is that your Range Rover, Annabelle?"

  "What are you talking about?" she replied as she turned to look at the aircraft.

  "It's okay, Annabelle. I’ve already checked. The car is yours. Unfortunately for you, you hit a car in your haste to get away from the boathouse after you placed chloral hydrate into the tin of varnish Geoff was using to spruce up his boat before selling it."

  "Chloral hydrate?"

  Ant ignored the policeman’s parrot-like repetition.

  "You see, Annabelle, pear drops make my nose itch. Isn’t that right, Lyn?"

  Lyn nodded, her amusement obvious for all to see.

  "And as it turns out, chloral hydrate also smells of pear drops. Lucky, really. Well, perhaps not for you." Ant moved closer to Annabelle to press home his dominance of the space between them.

  "You don’t have any proof of this nonsense. You are just making this up."

  You can look as angry as you like, lady.

  "Oh, I think I have. I’m sure your fingerprints will be all over that can. You got sloppy, Annabelle. Were you running out of time to pick Hannah up and get to the BBQ? I think you were, so you couldn’t get the tin away from Geoff after you spiked it, to get rid of your fi
ngerprints. Or perhaps you just assumed the police would think he died of natural causes, and you didn’t need to bother. After all, poor Geoff would have innocently used the varnish then put the tin away. He was tidy like that, wasn't he? All the time he was in that cabin, the fumes were doing their work; Geoff was unaware it was killing him. I assume you knew he had a poor sense of smell, so he didn’t notice anything wrong. In the end, he just sat down and died—but only because you poisoned him."

  Annabelle stood rooted to the spot.

  Hannah’s gaze burned into her.

  The temporary silence was broken by a ringtone.

  "I think that’s for you, Annabelle."

  Annabelle looked at Lyn, then the handset gave off an eerie halo in the darkness.

  Lyn held up a second handset, its screen also illuminated.

  "This is Jakub’s phone, Annabelle. You know, the one you rang to get him over from Poland. The one you dialled to fool him it was Hannah ringing, and the one you used to get him to move Geoff’s body."

  Hannah cried out as if in physical pain. Lyn walked her away from the group, giving what comfort she could from the relative quiet of Ant’s car.

  Ant noticed Annabelle’s demeanour change. When Fitch pulled up with Jakub in tow, it broke completely.

  Almost there.

  "That report was written by your husband’s research company, wasn’t it?"

  Annabelle gave the faintest of nods to acknowledge Ant's question.

  "Geoff told you he’d realised what had been going on, and that he wasn’t prepared to ruin his reputation. He realised your husband had got his findings wrong, yes?"

  A tear rolled down Annabelle’s cheek.

  "My husband knows nothing of what I have done. We would have been ruined. Twenty years of work gone in a second, along with everything we own."

  Riley started to move forward holding a pair of handcuffs in his right hand.

  "I told Geoff we could fix things. He didn’t believe me. He said one lie would lead to another and he couldn’t allow that. Well, I couldn’t let him ruin us."

  Ant took a step away from Annabelle.

  "And so you did your own research. You found out chloral hydrate had been used as a sedative, but if administered in a big enough dose, it could stop the heart, especially where a weakness already existed."

  Annabelle nodded again. The rest of her body hung limp.

  "Pretending to be Hannah to ensure Jakub came was a clever touch, I’ll give you that. As was arranging for me to be pulled over by that bogus copper. One day I'll find out who told you so much about me to make it so convincing. And who knows, if my mate, Fitch, hadn’t been called out to fix a generator, Geoff’s body would have vanished forever. Hey, presto, no autopsy results to show traces of chloral hydrate. Just Hannah’s spurned lover with a history of violence.

  "But you got sloppy when you gave me all that guff about buying the old chapel and having to fly back to Poland to sort out your finances. Did you not think I would check with the estate agent? It took us five minutes to discover the building wasn't for sale after all. Instead, it was Jakub you had just met when I came across you on Wednesday, wasn't it? As for your flight, well, you never left the country, did you?"

  Annabelle sobbed and gazed down at the leaf-strewn concrete without answering.

  "Over to you, Detective Inspector." Ant vacated the scene and turned to see Jakub leaning into the open-topped Morgan. His arm provided a protective blanket around Hannah’s shoulders as they exchanged warm smiles.

  "Oh, I have something for you, my Polish friend."

  Jakub turned towards Ant.

  "A certain young lady asked that I give you this." Ant held out the change Lil had given him for Jakub. "I know food is expensive in the UK, but even we don't charge twenty pounds for a burger!"

  Nice to see you smile.

  "You did say two pints of Thatcher’s Itch every night for a week, my Lord Stanton?" Fitch reinforced his point by pointing at the wooden beer pump handle at the bar of the Wherry Inn.

  "Yes, he did," interjected Lyn.

  I give up.

  Ant reached into his trouser pocket to retrieve his wallet.

  "Watch out for the moths," quipped Fitch.

  "Very funny," replied Ant as he drew the attention of the barman and handed over 5 twenty-pound notes. "Put this behind the bar for my friend. If there’s anything left by the end of the week, pop it into the lifeboat collection box. Never let it be said I don’t pay my debts."

  Ant was amused to watch Fitch and Lyn exchange confused glances knowing shelling out cash was not something either of them were used to seeing him do that often.

  "What are you up to?"

  Ant looked furtively at Fitch as he shuffled from one foot to another.

  "As a matter of fact, I need a favour."

  "I knew it," moaned Fitch.

  "Out with it," demanded Lyn.

  Ant played for time by taking a large gulp of his Fen Bodger pale ale.

  "I came across a couple of teenagers stripping lead off Hill Rise Folly earlier in the week. The upshot is I said I might be able to help them find a job."

  Don't look so suspicious, Fitch.

  "What, as plumbers, or demolition experts?"

  Having just taken a gulp from her glass, Lyn laughed then coughed as the bubbles from her white wine spritzer hit the back of her nose.

  "Er, not exactly. The lad wants to work with animals, so I got him a placement with the vet."

  "And the other one." Ant hesitated as Fitch's eyes narrowed.

  "She wants to be a mechanic."

  Fitch froze.

  "She—a mechanic? Don’t tell me you—"

  Ant looked nervously towards the pub's front door then ran.

  "I’ve told her to pop along to the garage first thing on Monday. Is that okay?"

  Fitch was up in a flash.

  "Lord or not, you come back here before I…"

  END

  Glossary

  English (UK) to US English

  A rum do: A strange or surprising occurrence

  Bakelite: Early type of plastic

  Boiled sweet: Candy mainly made from sugar and flavourings boiled into a hard treat

  Bonce: Street slang for head. "I hit my bonce on the shelf."

  Broad: A stretch of shallow water formed from old peat diggings. Common in Norfolk and Suffolk regions of the UK. Can take the form of narrow stretches of water like canals, or open water like small lakes.

  Car boot: Trunk

  Cottoned on: Finally understood something

  Fobbed off: Street slang for not being taken seriously

  Folly: A building with no practical use. Traditionally constructed by wealthy landowners on their estate as a symbol of their power and prestige. Can be a simple tower or obelisk, or more ornate faux castle ruin, for example.

  Gawping: Old-fashioned English word for looking obtrusively at something or (more usually) someone

  Gurning: A traditional British pastime in which individuals pull a grotesque face by projecting the lower jaw as far forward as possible then covering the upper lip with the lower lip. The head of the competitor is usually placed through a horse's harness as a "frame"

  Jiffy: A word to describe doing something almost immediately—"I'll be with you in a jiffy."

  Lay-by: A safe place to park at the side of a highway

  Holby City: Eponymous UK soap opera based in a hospital

  Manky: Something, or someone, who smells of a bad odour. Often used to describe something that is falling to bits

  Mackintosh: A eponymous waterproof coat or jacket

  Newsagent: A shop which sells newspapers, magazines, tobacco and candy

  Plod: nickname for a policeman or "the police"

  Pillar box: A Royal Mail postal box sited in public places and usually painted bright red (pillar-box red)

  Quid: Pound sterling

  Shandy: A mixture of roughly 50% or more of beer and 50% lemonade (so
da)

  Shufti: Street slang used to describe having a look at something. Often said in jest

  Sixpence: A UK coin used until 1971 and worth approximately two US cents today

  Snug: A small room in an English pub. Old-fashioned and not designed for pubs today

  That's the ticket: Showing courage or willing to do something with a good heart

  The City: London's financial district and stock exchange

  Tight: Does not spend money easily—penny-pincher

  Toad-in-the-hole: British food dish first described in 1762 as a pastry dish containing a small piece of beef. Used to make meat go further in poor households

  Toerag: Street slang to describe someone who cannot be trusted

  Toff: Slang word for upper-class or rich person generally seen to be "looking down" on other people

  Turned on a sixpence: turned on the spot

  Trolley: A gurney used in hospitals

  Wherry: A traditional sailboat used for carrying goods and passengers on the Norfolk & Suffolk Broads

  You're a corker: Old-fashioned description of something excellent in a thing or person

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