Faraway Eyes_A fast-paced romantic murder mystery

by Evelyn Harrison

  “Yes, I’ll do that, thanks, Flo.”

  Stepping into the hallway, they both glanced around the vast space.

  “Strange,” began Flo, “what on earth are those marks on the floor? I only washed it this morning.”

  Beth placed her cakes on the hall table and bent down so she could examine them closer.

  “Looks like skid marks left by shoes. My Chris and his friends are always leaving marks like that when they play running games in the house. It’s really annoying.”

  “It’s no good, I’ll have to get my mop and bucket out again. Mrs. Hamilton will go mad if she sees her floor like this, especially when she’s got guests coming tomorrow.”

  Beth turned around to pick up the cake boxes.

  “Flo, look, the phone’s wire has been pulled out of the wall,” she said, biting her lip. “Are you thinking what I’m thinking?”

  “I don’t know my dear, what are you thinking?”

  “That something’s gone on here. My gut feeling is perhaps there’s been an intruder.”

  “Oh, what a vivid imagination you have. You’re spending too much time with Kate and that detective Sam – they’re a bad influence on you.”

  “That maybe the case, but it wouldn’t hurt to have a cautious look around the house, would it? Starting with the kitchen. Be careful though, don’t touch anything.”

  “Do you honestly think Mrs. Hamilton has been burgled?”

  “It’s a possibility,” said Beth, lowering her voice. “I don’t want to frighten you Flo, but the prowler could still be in the house.”

  “Now I am frightened, my dear. Shouldn’t we call the police?”

  “And tell them what? There are marks on the floor and the phones been disconnected? No, let’s look around first; we don’t want to be accused of wasting police time. Come on, be brave, take my hand, or you could just stay there and wait if you prefer?”

  “No way, my dear, I’ll be right behind you.”

  The minute they walked into the kitchen they noticed the French doors were wide open and the contents of Barbara’s handbag were strewn all over the kitchen table.

  “Looks like someone’s got in through the back door and rifled through Mrs. Hamilton’s handbag,” cried Beth.

  Flo had to sit down, her legs had gone beneath her – she felt faint.

  “I think we do need to phone the police now, my dear.”

  Ignoring Flo for the minute, Beth started pacing the room.

  “If Mrs. Hamilton’s gone out, why would she have left her handbag? Oh my god Flo!” she cried, placing her hands on her head, “I bet the burglars have stolen her car! But where on Earth is Mrs. Hamilton? She could still be somewhere in the house. Perhaps they’ve locked her in a room. Do any of the internal doors have a key?”

  “No none of them … Please, my dear, please you must phone the police.”

  “You’re right, I’ll do it now.”

  Rooting around in her bag Beth found her phone and dialled 999.

  “Hello, police please … Hi, I want to report a break in and the possible theft of a car …”

  Ending her call, she turned back to Flo.

  “They said they would be with us in the next half hour and we’re not to touch anything … but I can’t just stand here and do nothing, Mrs. Hamilton might be hurt. I’m going to have a look around you stay here, I’m sure now whoever broke in is long gone.”

  Rushing from room to room, Beth found no sign of Barbara Hamilton.

  “So, she’s not in the house, that’s good … I think.”

  “There’s a shed in the garden,” pointed out Flo.

  “Right, the garden shed, I’ll go and look in there. Listen out for the police, they should be here any minute.”

  An eerie shadow, from the tall Cyprus trees at the bottom of the garden, had already begun creeping slowly towards the centre of the lawn, as Beth stepped out onto the patio …

  Chapter 19 – Down Amongst the Roses

  Three hours earlier

  Arriving back at The Manor House, Barbara Hamilton headed straight for her kitchen and switched on the kettle. After unpacking her bag of shopping, she walked out through her French doors onto her patio and stared out at her landscaped garden. She had so many memories here, she was still finding it hard to believe that in less than a week’s time, this and the house, would no longer be her home.

  The news from the prison was that Stephen was being released next Wednesday, a day before the removal men were due to start packing her worldly goods. She was excited to see her son freed at last, but at the same time frightened for him. How was he going to cope with the world seemingly against him? She would do everything in her power to make his life a comfortable one and moving away to a completely new area where no one knew them, was part of it. Returning to the kitchen she brewed herself a cup of tea.

  She loved the smell the house had after Flo Devine had washed and sprayed her cleaning products around the rooms. When her cleaner of many years became too ill to work, it had been quite a surprise that Flo had actually agreed to char for her, considering their history. Opening her biscuit tin, she picked up two digestives and together with her cup of tea, returned to the patio and sat down beneath the large beige parasol.

  She had almost finished her drink when she heard someone coming through the side gate. Turning her head, Barbara’s face immediately broke out into a smile at seeing her gardener, Mr. Jones.

  “Afternoon Mrs. Hamilton, it’s a lovely day. I’ve come to mow the lawns for your party tomorrow.”

  “Thank you, Mr. Jones, go ahead, you won’t disturb me.”

  She watched as he struggled to pull the lawnmower out of the shed. He was an elderly gentleman of small stature, his slight stoop added to his stunted appearance. Retired many years from his job as a bus-driver, he was now supplementing his pension by doing odd jobs around the village.

  The layout of the vast gardens surrounding the house hadn’t changed much over the years; certainly, the pink and yellow rose-filled beds were the same as they had always been. Where had all that time gone? When she and her husband Charles moved into The Manor House over forty years ago, she believed they were reasonably happy, at least for a couple of years. She felt a flutter of regret as she remembered their first gardener and handyman Flo’s husband Harold, who had transformed the garden and her life. She recalled watching his manly body dripping with sweat on hot days like this, from her kitchen window, as he dug and planted the borders wearing nothing but shorts.

  The sound of the lawnmower transported her abruptly back to the present. Reclining on her lounger, she closed her eyes, enjoying the warmth from the strengthening rays of the spring sun on her ageing bones.

  “Mrs. Hamilton … Mrs. Hamilton, I’ve finished the lawns,” announced Mr. Jones, an hour later.

  Opening her eyes, Barbara sat forward and peered up at him. “Sorry Mr. Jones, I must have dozed off. Thank you, it all looks splendid, I’ll go and fetch your money.” Finding her handbag on the kitchen table, she removed a twenty-pound note. “There you are, don’t forget, although I won’t be living here from next week, I would still like you to carry on looking after the gardens until someone buys the house. After all the effort you’ve put in, I wouldn’t want to see it running wild.”

  “I’ve not forgotten. I’ll be here every week as usual until you tell me otherwise. I’m sorry you’re moving away from the village Mrs. Hamilton, I hope you and your son will be happy in your new house.”

  “Thank you, Mr. Jones, I hope we will be too.”

  Leaving the French doors open, to allow the breeze to circulate the interior, Barbara took herself upstairs to find something cooler to wear. It was not until she was descending the sweeping staircase that she realised someone else was in the house.

  Placing her foot on the last step, she stopped and listened. Yes, there was definitely a noise coming from the kitchen. Perhaps Mr. Jones had returned? What if it wasn’t him though and it was a burglar? She�
��d left her bag with her purse containing all her cards, phone and car keys, on the kitchen table. Damn. She tiptoed towards the kitchen door and peeped through. Someone was raiding her fridge! How dare they!

  The sensible thing to do of course would have been to pick up the phone in the hall and dial 999, but that scenario didn’t cross her mind at the time, she was too annoyed. She couldn’t believe that someone had the audacity to invade her home. Stepping forward she roared.

  “What do you think you’re doing in my house?”

  The person immediately took their head out of her refrigerator. He was a tall, unshaven man, in his thirties. His close-cut hair, showed signs of prematurely greying and the small scar just below his left eye, the result of a confrontation, added to his rough appearance.

  “Hello, Mum.”

  “Stephen! I wasn’t expecting you until next week. What a lovely surprise, how did you get in?”

  “I waited until your lover had left and then climbed over the gate.”

  “My lover? Do you mean my gardener, Mr. Jones?”

  “If that’s his name, it’s certainly the right profession. I thought he looked a bit old and doddery for you, but I’m guessing you’re not too picky these days.”

  “Why on earth are you talking to me like that?”

  “Oh Mum, surely you know,” he sniffed. Pulling out a chair, he sat down at the kitchen table. “I had a visit from Charles a couple of weeks ago, it was the first time he’d actually made an effort to see me.”

  “Your father came to see you? That was nice, I haven’t heard from him for years. How is he?”

  “Balder, fatter and happier with, can’t remember his name. They’re living somewhere in Brighton.”

  “I thought that was the case. Was there a particular reason he came to see you?”

  Stephen pulled the ring on the can of coke and took a long slurp.

  “I was hoping you’d have beer in the fridge, no such fucking luck … why did Charles come to see me? Oh yes, he had great pleasure in telling me he wasn’t actually my father, can you believe it, an openly gay man is telling me he’s not my biological fucking father. What do you think of that, Mum?”

  Barbara sat down; her knees had gone considerably wobbly.

  “I’ve no idea why he should have said such an evil thing, of course he’s your father. His name is on your birth certificate.”

  Stephen threw his head back and let out a disquieting guffaw. Straightening up again he leaned forward and crushed the now empty can between his hands, his eyes wild and focused.

  “So, because a piece of paper has his name on it, it must be true? What planet do you think I came down from?” he shouted, bring his fist down hard on the table. “I’m not stupid, old woman, stop treating me like I am!”

  “I’ve never thought of you as stupid. I love you, you know that and that’s why I’m prepared to move away from all this, so we can start again somewhere new.”

  “Oh yes, Northampton, not really my idea of a new start. I only came back here for my passport, I’m flying to South Africa tonight.”

  “You can’t Stephen!” she pleaded. The tears that had been collecting in her tear ducts now began to descend her cheeks. “I’m changing my life for you!”

  He glowered at her with so much hate in his eyes.

  “I didn’t ask you too. What made you think, in your warped little mind, that I would want to live with you? You disgust me.”

  Barbara eased herself to a standing position, walked around the table and tried to put her arms around him, but he pushed her away and leapt to his feet.

  “What was he like, my biological father?” he demanded, looming over her. “Was he a brute of a man with muscles in all the right places? Did you lust for him? I’m guessing Charles wasn’t up to much in the bedroom, so you were probably frustrated. Did you do it in here, over the kitchen table?”

  He grabbed hold of her arm and started dragging her from room to room.

  “Did you fuck in here on the rug in front of the fire? Or perhaps you fucked him in your bedroom between your nice clean sheets.”

  “Stop it, Stephen! Stop it, you’re hurting me!”

  Finally releasing her, Barbara collapsed to the floor and lay there helpless. What had she done by bringing him into the world? All she ever wanted was a child of her own to love and for them to love her back. People had told her he was evil, even before he went to school, but she had always believed he was just misunderstood. Looking up at him now, she regretted he’d ever been born.

  “Help me up, Stephen, please help me up?” she pleaded, her entire face saturated with her tears.

  He stood over her, smirking.

  “You remind me of someone. Oh yes, that old man all those years ago, lying there in that frozen ditch. I didn’t help him then, and I’m certainly not going to help you now!”

  “What are you talking about, what old man?”

  “Alfred Reed, you remember, he had me and my friends locked up for stealing his poxy apples.” He crouched down to her level; she could feel his stale warm breath on her face. “I got even with him though, that night I tampered with his bike and that’s why he fell off. It made me feel good to see him die like that.” He straightened up again. “You know you’re the only person I’ve told that story to, perhaps now I have to kill you too!”

  “No Stephen, I would never tell, I’m your mother.”

  “So you are, Mrs. Barbara Hamilton, the chair of the WI and the proud owner of all this crap,” he cried, spinning around, his arms splayed in the air. “So, come on, what was his name? I really would like to know for my family tree.”

  “Harold … his name was Harold Devine.”

  “Oh my god, I remember him. Dear old Harold, it’s a good job for him he’s dead too, because otherwise I’d have gone to him for all the pocket money he must owe me.”

  “Stephen, I’m not feeling very well, my arm and chest hurt,” she whispered, crawling towards him.

  “Oh dear, are you having a heart attack? That would be tragic.”

  He watched her crawl into the hall towards the phone, but as she reached up, he yanked the wire from the wall.

  “Shame, the phones no longer working. Keep crawling, old woman, I like seeing you crawl.”

  “Stephen, I’m finding it difficult to breathe,” she gasped, “Whatever you think of me, I’m still your mother, help me please?”

  “Help me please Stephen …” he mimicked. “OK I give in, I don’t want you to die in the house; I wouldn’t be able to live with myself. Let’s go into the garden, somehow it seems a more appropriate place for your life to end.”

  He hauled her to her feet and carried her frail body in his arms out through the French doors and laid her down near the rose beds.

  “I’ve always hated this bloody garden, now I know why, it’s tainted by your disgusting behaviour.” He looked down at her without emotion, as she struggled to take her last breath. “Bye, Mummy dearest, I hope you’ll be happy wherever you end up.”

  Stephen didn’t even glance back at the crumpled corpse as he marched back towards the house. After finding his passport, he raided Barbara’s purse, picked up her car keys and left for his new life, without an ounce of guilt for what he had just done.

  Chapter 20 – A Sad Outcome

  Beth’s haunting screams from the garden, was a disturbing sound for anyone to hear. Two police officers arriving at that precise moment rushed outside and were greeted by the upsetting sight of the twisted body of the once strong woman. Visibly shaking, Beth was bending over Barbara trying to feel for a pulse.

  “Is she dead?” asked the young constable arriving by her side.

  Beth looked up at him through her vale of tears. “Yes officer, she’s cold and there’s no pulse.”

  “Move away then, please Miss, don’t touch her anymore, in fact you’d better go back into the house, we don’t want to contaminate the area any further. I’ll have to call this in, obviously now it’s more than ju
st a break in, I’ll need a crime team out here.”

  A second officer, a WPC, led Beth back to the kitchen. Flo was beside herself not knowing what was happening.

  “Beth, did you find her … Mrs. Hamilton, did you find her?”

  Putting her arm around Flo, Beth encouraged her to sit down again. “Yes, it’s awful, I’m afraid she’s dead.”

  “Oh no, the poor woman!” cried Flo, her tears falling fast.

  “I think,” said the WPC, “you could both do with a cup of tea. I’ll put the kettle on.”

  Hearing a police siren outside, the WPC stopped what she was doing and went to open the front door. Two plain clothed detectives, entered the hall and made their way swiftly towards the kitchen.

  “Alex, thank goodness it’s you!” cried Beth, as Alex approached her.

  “Are you and Flo OK? When I heard what had happened I dropped everything to accompany my colleague.”

  “We’re both in shock. It’s Mrs. Hamilton, she’s dead!”

  “Yes, so I understand, forensics are on their way. I’ll give you a few moments to catch your breath but I’ll need to take a statement from both of you when you’re up to it?”

  “I’m ready,” Beth looked over at Flo who nodded, “let’s get it over and done with. I don’t know what help we can be though, I thought as soon as we entered the house something had happened but I never guessed it would be as bad as this …” said Beth.

  “Make sure there’s sugar in that tea,” said Alex over his shoulder to the WPC. “How about we go into another room, ladies, it will be more comfortable for you, and away from what’s going on out there.” Leading them into the lounge, they sat down onto two easy chairs. “Right, can you tell me why you are both in the house?”

  “I came by to deliver a couple of cakes Mrs. Hamilton ordered …”

  “I arrived at the same time as Beth,” pointed out Flo. “I clean for Mrs. Hamilton, you see, and I’d left my watch here this morning. I’ve got my own key so I let us in.”