Ms Holmes

by John Noonan

  ‘And in your drunken stupor, you put S Cushing on the envelope not thinking that her sister would open the parcel or that Sarah herself no longer lived there,’ I said.

  Jim obviously didn’t know. He looked from me to SH.

  ‘I only wanted to scare Sarah,’ Jim’s lip began to wobble. ‘You have to understand, I’m a good man. I have a good job, I looked after Tracy. Gave her everything she wanted. You’ve seen my house! I would not have done what I did if it weren’t for Sarah. She had made me do it!’

  SH’s face darkened and a fire was lit behind her eyes that I had not seen since the early days of her brother’s passing. Something about the way she was holding her gaze made her appear to be three feet taller than usual.

  ‘Made you do it?!’ barked SH ‘Jimmy, mate, Sarah had nothing to do with this. Granted she sounds like a cow, but do you honestly think this is all her fault? You picked up the rock, you mutilated and hid the bodies. And then to leave body parts on a doorstep?! This is all on you son.’

  The events of the last few days pierced Jim’s emotions and he crumpled in the chair where he sat. His face a river of snot and tears, he held out his hands to SH. For what reason? To be taken away? Forgiveness?

  SH threw a quick glance at me. Returning her attention to Jim, she pulled Tracy’s phone from her pocket and held it out him. Jim grabbed at it like a child at a toy. SH knelt down, and in complete contrast to the fire of words that had previously spat out of her mouth, she placed a hand on Jim’s knee.

  ‘The man you killed is employed by someone you do not want to have pissed off, mate,’ she said darkly. ‘He promised me that when I found out who sent the ears, he would send for the police. But I don’t believe him. I don’t know what he’ll do to you, but it’ll be revenge, not justice.’

  Jim’s snivels had stopped. He appeared to be inspecting SH for some kind of reasoning. SH sighed and stood up.

  ‘Leave. Go to the police. Tell them what you did, and show them where you hid the bodies,’ she said. ‘Tell them you fed the ears to a dog or something. Don’t reveal the truth of what you did. The consequences will echo on your body for a long time to come, if you make any connection to my employer. Now, go.’

  After a moment’s hesitation, Jim practically fell over himself to leave the living room. SH took a seat next to me and we listened to Jim struggling with the latch before finally escaping into the world.

  ‘He’s not escaping,’ SH said. ‘He’ll go to the police. He knows it’s the right thing to do.’

  ‘How can you be so sure?’ I asked.

  ‘Men like him…’ SH began, before shaking her head. ‘He’ll want to be looked after. He doesn’t think he’s done anything wrong, so he’ll believe the law will be able to justify him.’

  My mind was tossing and turning with the events of the last 24 hours. It was all too much. I had been involved in a murder investigation, my home used for interrogation. And originally, all I wanted to do today was celebrate my birthday and consider finishing my Masters. I glanced at SH; she was different from the woman who had left me three years ago. She’d grown up beyond her 20 odd years on this planet. Could our relationship continue under these circumstances, with this much time between us?

  ‘Right!’ SH said, standing up. ‘I need to pay a visit to my dear brother. We have a lot to discuss.’

  I made as if to get up myself, but SH held out a hand in protest. She pulled another cigarette from her seemingly endless packet and beckoned me to sit.

  ‘Nah, mate,’ she said. ‘You’re not going to want to be there for this one.’

  She left the living room, and I quickly followed her to the front door.

  ‘You going to come back? You could stay here tonight,’ I said as she opened the door.

  ‘Yeah, probably. I’ve not seen you in three years’ mate,’ She plastered a smile on her troubled face. ‘We’ve got a lot to catch up on.’

  ‘Legit?’

  ‘Legit. You know me, mate. I’ll give you a call.’

  I watched her potter down the driveway, her coat billowing behind her. She reached the end and turned to wave goodbye.

  ‘You’re fucking beautiful, mate,’ She shouted.

  And then she disappeared as she went behind the hedge.

  I’d like to say that she returned later that evening, that we shared a pizza whilst unpacking the day’s events and reminiscing over our life together. I’d like to say that. But at no point in our adventure today had we bothered to swap numbers.

  That night, the News at Ten reported that a man had confessed to a double murder in Dunham Massey. Neither the names of Jim, James or Tracy were mentioned, but I knew. SH had been right. Jim had made the right decision, even though his reasons were extremely problematic.

  I stayed up for another hour, and reasoning that SH would not be coming back, took myself to bed.

  The next morning, I found a note had been pushed under my front door. I made myself a coffee and braced myself for its contents. Perhaps this was a note from Michael, warning me of retribution for our failure to apprehend Jim. I opened and read:

  John,

  Firstly, you need to calm down, mate. Michael isn’t after you. So, have a sip of coffee and listen to what I have to say.

  Michael was really not fucking pleased with me when I recounted what happened today, as I’m sure you can imagine. He said that my morals had got in the way. He ranted that he would have given Tracy and James the proper justice they deserved.

  He blamed you as a matter of fact. Said that you were a bad influence.

  Pretty funny that. I lead you on a murder investigation and he says you’re the bad influence.

  I told him to shove it. I quit. Not sure if you can quit a gangster family, but Michael didn’t stop me nonetheless. Honestly mate, I’ve had enough of men telling me what I should and shouldn’t be doing. Particularly men like Michael. He was my last connection to an awful mother, but it wasn’t worth this.

  I saw the way you looked at me after Jim left. I have changed, you’re right. I’m not sure whether for the better or worst. I just know I have and your face spoke volumes about what you thought about that.

  So, as much as I appreciate your offer of a place to sleep, I must say no. For one, I have my own flat - Did you think I was homeless? :) - but also because I don’t think our friendship can withstand what I’ve been doing. Now I’ve forced Michael out, you’re not my friend anymore; you’re literally my only family and I want to make you proud.

  And I will John. I’ll do something that is a proper monument to us, your Mum, and Ford.

  Just keep your eye out.

  Love

  Shelly x

  I sighed, folded the letter and continued with my day.

  Eight Months Later…

  The advert in the Evening News read:

  WANTED!

  Assistant required for new private detective business.

  Run by a woman, for women.

  Essential requirements – Homosexual, useless Masters in English, believes Jurassic Park couldn’t happen, likely on the dole due to aforementioned masters.

  Come at once if convenient. If not convenient, come anyway.

  The address on the advert was Flat 2b, Level 2, Baker House.

  I found the apartment block in the Northern Quarter. Upon reaching the main door, I was buzzed in before I’d even pressed the buzzer for flat 2b.

  I walked up the steps to the second floor and made my way down the corridor. Even if I didn’t know her flat number, I would have found it. The sound of Ou Est Le Swimming Pool was bouncing around the corridor from an open door. Arriving at the doorway, I pushed the door further open and stepped into a modern looking open plan living room/kitchen with doors leading to presumably bedrooms or bathrooms.

  In the middle of the living room, there she stood; her hair no longer red, but constructed into a short blue mohawk which contrasted with the yellow jacket she wore. She smiled and moved to quickly turn off her record p
layer. Spinning around, she ran her hands through her Mohawk.

  ‘Let me see–what are my shortcomings as a boss?’ she said. ‘I get in the dumps at times, and don’t open my mouth for days on end. You mustn’t think I’m being sulky when I do that, yeah? Just leave me alone, and I’ll soon be right. I have a cat. She’s called Hudson. We all come second to her. I play vinyl. Loud. At all times. The pay is poor. Like, I reckon you’re going to have to move in with me and help pay rent you know. Ha! Seriously, though the pay is crap. I’m living off the fumes of what I made from Michael. But it’s good work, John. It’s good work. You in?’

  ‘Legit?’ I asked.

  ‘Legit.’

  I paused, eyeing her up.

  ‘We can rent Mum’s house out,’ I responded. ‘That’ll bring income. Though that does mean I won’t have anywhere to live. So which room is mine?’

  SH, my Shelly, screamed and embraced me. Planting a massive kiss on my forehead, I felt that warmth I had experienced months earlier. Once again she had convinced me to do something completely erratic without much persuasion. There’s probably a medical term for a friendship like this. Does it matter?

  As we walked out of the apartment building to the pub in need of celebration, I caught sight of the car that had camped outside Sarah Cushing’s house. The same Aphex Twin song was pumping from the speakers and the same snake like man from before pierced me with a look. Before I could point it out to SH, she pushed me into a bar laughing.

  I looked over my shoulder to see the car speed away.

  She did say legit, yeah?

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