After Darkness Falls 2 - 10 Tales of Terror - Volume Two

by Matt Drabble

  Monica saw that Geraldine still had the cleaver in her hand and stepped back a few more paces in fear of the woman. “You stay away from me.”

  “Listen to me, Monica,” Geraldine pleaded. “I don’t know who that is up there but it’s got nothing to do with me.”

  Wet slapping footsteps started to descend the stairs behind her and Monica didn’t want to turn around and face a pantomime monster when there was a real one in front of her. “It’s not going to work, either of you,” she said, suddenly remembering the knife in her pocket and drawing it out.

  Geraldine’s eyes grew large and bulged almost out of her head as Monica felt someone move behind her. She knew that this was their plan all along: poor little Monica Winchester, a frightened mouse with a dodgy heart just ready to keel over at the sound of a breaking window pane. For the first time in her life, she felt real anger borne out of 27 years of bitter resentment. She lunged forward with the knife outstretched in front of her, swinging it back and forth. She felt a surge of power in her veins as the rage boiled. “You bitch, you fucking bitch!”

  Geraldine held up her hands. “Look behind you!” she shouted.

  Monica wasn’t willing to fall for any of her games and rushed at the woman. It was only the second time in her life after Terrence and the bath incident that she had engaged in any kind of intense physical activity but it was far less successful than the first.

  Geraldine avoided her clumsy lunging attack and Monica felt the knife slide past Geraldine’s torso, only gouging a small bloody groove. Then she was tumbling past and falling to the floor but not before she managed to grab hold of Geraldine’s waist on the way down. They fell together in a tangle of limbs that was far less exciting than their bathroom embrace. Monica squirmed and fought under the much larger and stronger woman. She could feel her heart struggling to cope with the extra and unwanted effort that was piled on top of the rest of the night’s efforts.

  They rolled around on the floor struggling to free themselves. Monica strained with all of her might as she refused to be a victim any longer. With a great final effort she shoved Geraldine to one side, managing to elbow the woman in the throat, causing her to cough and gag.

  Monica crawled backwards on her bottom until her back hit the sofa. Geraldine started to rise and she picked up the cleaver from the ground where she’d dropped it in the struggle. The fire was at Geraldine’s back and the flames danced on the sharp edge of the blade as she lifted the cleaver.

  Monica saw anger flash through the woman’s eyes but her voice was croaky and low due to the blow that she’d caught in the throat. She lifted the cleaver and then the night was split open by a gunshot.

  Monica watched in shock as a small hole appeared in the centre of Geraldine’s chest. The woman dropped the cleaver and looked down incomprehensibly at the spreading red stain. She sank to her knees before pitching forward, lying still.

  “Mrs. Donovan?”

  Monica turned to see Inspector Chartres standing there with a smoking revolver outstretched.

  “Are you okay, Mrs. Donovan?” the policewoman queried, moving deftly around the furniture to check on Geraldine’s still body.

  “I think so,” Monica managed. “I don’t quite understand what’s happening here but I think that my husband might be in the house somewhere.”

  “I’m afraid that isn’t possible, Mrs. Donovan. I have some terrible news for you. A body was recovered from Staines River a short time ago. We have every reason to believe that it is that of your husband, Terrence.”

  “But I heard someone in the house!” Monica gasped.

  “I came in through the rear doors but I didn’t see or hear anyone,” Chartres said with a shrug. “I don’t know what you thought you heard but I can tell you for certain that it wasn’t your husband. I was returning to inform you when I heard a commotion and found Ms Kripke standing over you wielding a dangerous weapon.”

  “Kripke?” Monica asked, confused and clutching her chest as her heart pounded furiously out of control.

  “Yes, Susan Kripke, or a whole other slew of aliases that would take too long to list. I was sure that I recognised her earlier on this evening but I couldn’t quite place the name. Ms Kripke has an arrest list as long as you arm, mostly for fraud. Her usual M.O was to fleece wealthy older men. Any idea why she targeted you?”

  Monica felt the world around her fading away and she fought hard against it, refusing to give in. “She told me that she was married to my husband,” she whispered.

  The policewoman stared at her long and hard. “Mrs. Donovan, did you have anything to do with your husband’s drowning?”

  Monica couldn’t find enough breath in her body to answer.

  “I think that you’d better come with me down to the station, Mrs. Donovan.”

  Monica felt the edges of unconsciousness closing in around her.

  “Perhaps we’d better get you some hospital treatment because you look a little green,” Chartres said nervously. “It’ll be quicker in my car rather than waiting for an ambulance.”

  Monica let the inspector hoist her up effortlessly and led her to the door. Her mind was spinning as it tried to cope with palpitations and the realisation that she had murdered her husband for no reason. Geraldine’s - or Susan’s - motivation must have been to simply dispose of Terrence, inventing their marriage and his murderous plans for Monica before moving into Monica’s life and making herself indispensable. Perhaps the woman had romantic inclinations that she felt she could impose on the impressionable and naïve dormouse. Whatever she had planned, it apparently did not include drowned zombies

  Chartres threw open the door and Terrence lunged forward. Monica’s already exhausted heart could not stand this one last shock. Her husband stood before her, dripping all over the welcome mat. His face was blank and his eyes were pure white and devoid of colored pupils. His mouth hung open in a silent scream and his hands reached out for her.

  Monica collapsed to the floor clutching her chest in vain as her heart kicked and hitched, spluttering its last gasps for life. As she drifted beyond the warmth of life, Terrence leaned over her. She vaguely saw him remove the lenses from his eyes and grin happily as he knelt down over her dying body.

  “You probably have some questions,” he smiled wickedly. “But I’d better hurry as you don’t have much time. I heard you from the stairs and you were quite wrong about poor Geraldine. She was my wife, but the cow double-crossed me and wouldn’t go along with my plans for you. Who knew that such a money grabbing whore would turn out to have a conscience?”

  “How did you…,” Monica gasped.

  “What? Stage my drowning? One of the many jobs that I held in my youth was that of a diver. You’d be surprised just how long I can hold my breath - when I’m properly motivated of course,” he laughed coldly.

  “And…, her?” Monica managed with what was almost her last breath.

  “Oh dear where are my manners! This is Dominique Chartres, the very first Mrs. Donovan, although we’ll keep that just between the two of us of course. We wouldn’t want your lawyers to find that out before your will is read, now would we? Now don’t worry about the mess; we’ll take care of the cleanup and it’ll be like Geraldine was never here. My wife has died of a long term and well known heart problem and I’ll be free to sell this place to replace my fortune.”

  Monica slipped away with what she hoped would be a mysterious small smile playing upon her lips. When Geraldine had first come to her a few weeks ago she had changed the will, removing Terrence from it completely. She died at least with the knowledge that she wasn’t quite the naïve victim that they had all thought her to be. It wasn’t much consolation but at least it was something.

  ----------

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