The Hill - Carla’s Story (Book Two): A Paranormal Murder Mystery Thriller. (Book Two)

by Andrew M Stafford

  Carla asked for a glass of water, cleared her throat and began. Ian Lester was poised with his pen ready to write down everything. He needn’t bother, as Garraway had the voice recorder app running on his phone, ready to record everything Carla was about to say.

  Chapter one hundred and thirty nine

  Jarrett’s Builders Merchants

  12.05pm

  Tuesday 19th June

  Daniel Boyd stood across the road from the customer entrance of Jarrett’s Builders Merchants. He knew Stanley was still working there as his red Volkswagen Golf was parked outside. The car was almost twenty five years old, but looked as though it was brand new. Stanley took immense pride in his car and cleaned and polished it three times a week.

  Stanley was a creature of habit, and if nothing had changed since the last time Boyd saw him, Stanley would be taking a twelve o’clock lunch. He always did, providing he wasn’t delivering. And when he did take lunch he would always sit on his own, in his car, eating his sandwiches and reading the Daily Mirror which he would buy from the newsagent across the way.

  Boyd could see that all three of Jarrett’s Hiabs and the flatbed were parked in the yard, so Stanley had to be around. Then he heard a familiar sound. He turned around to catch sight of him coming out of the newsagents with a paper in one hand and a sandwich in the other. Stanley was whistling Jerusalem. He always whistled that tune, especially at lunchtime. He’d told Boyd it was his favourite piece of music. Boyd watched as he walked over to his car and sat in the front passenger seat.

  Boyd hurriedly crossed the road and tapped on the window. Stanley screwed his face as he tried to work out who was knocking on his window. Boyd indicated for him to wind it down.

  “Stanley, it’s me Daniel, Daniel Boyd……….how are you mate?”

  Stanley nearly choked on his sandwich.

  “What the hell, what happened to you? Everyone thought you’d died.”

  “Sorry, look it’s a long story and I’ll explain later. I’ve been working down south for the past few years, but as I said, I’ll tell you about it later……….right now, I’m in a spot of bother and need somewhere to stay for a couple of days and wondered……….and wondered if I could stay at yours……….just for two or three days, and then I will be gone.”

  “What sort of bother are we talking about?” asked Stanley, sounding concerned.

  “Nothing terrible, I’ve just upset someone, and I just need to lie low for a bit, until things blow over?”

  “Is it drugs again?”

  “Kind of.”

  Stanley sat quietly and contemplated what he should do.

  Chapter one hundred and forty

  Markland Garraway’s house

  12.17pm

  Tuesday 19th June

  Carla took a large gulp of water and began to tell Markland Garraway everything that happened the night of Sunday the sixth September two thousand and nine. Garraway remained calm on the outside, but inside he was a bundle of nervous excitement.

  “It all started when I was hanging around with Charlotte Williams……….she was my best friend. She was Paul Green’s girlfriend. I started to hang around with Paul Green and his mates, as otherwise I wouldn’t see very much of Charlotte.”

  “Was it Paul Green who murdered Ben Walker?” asked Garraway.

  Carla shook her head and continued.

  “We were hanging around the Foundation, with Greeny and his mates, Seb, Mossy and someone called………., what was his name? ……….John, his name was John……….do you know the Foundation?”

  Garraway nodded.

  “Who are Seb, Mossy and John, what are their surnames?”

  “Oh, Mossy is Stuart Moss and Seb is………….., I don’t know what Seb’s surname is.”

  “How about John, what’s his surname?”

  Carla shook her head. “I never got to know him. He was an odd character. I think he fancied me, but he was odd, very odd.”

  “Was it one of these boys who killed Ben?”

  “No, the one who killed him was called Daniel……….Daniel Boyd. And like I said just now, I should never have been involved with him.”

  Lester wrote in his notepad and underlined the name Daniel Boyd. Carla continued.

  “Danny Boy turned up at the Foundation in a stolen car.”

  “Danny Boy?” asked Garraway.

  “Yes, he liked to be called Danny Boy, but its Daniel Boyd I’m talking about.”

  Garraway nodded and asked her to carry on.

  “He turned up in this big vehicle, it was obvious he’d stolen it, there was no way he could have owned it.”

  “What kind of car was it?”

  “I don’t know, I don’t know very much about cars……….it was silver and big enough for all of us……….and more. It was really big.”

  Garraway mentally matched the people carrier she was describing with the stolen Toyota Previa found on the edge of Badock’s Wood, the one that was reported stolen the night of Ben’s murder.

  “We all climbed in and Boyd drove us across the city. He was looking for trouble, he liked to fight……….I really wish I hadn’t been there, it was horrible.”

  Carla was crying. Richard hugged his daughter to comfort her. Lester looked at Garraway and saw that he was holding back tears.

  Carla took another mouthful of water, wiped her eyes and continued. Her voice was trembling as she described what happened next.

  “I followed the boys into the woods, I was walking with Charlotte and John was behind us, he was always lagging behind……….Boyd was at the front, and we all trailed behind.”

  She stopped and gazed into the middle distance and then in a hushed, but defined tone of voice continued.

  “And then it all began to happen.”

  “How did it start?” asked Garraway.

  “Boyd saw the two kissing at the bottom of the hill on the edge of Badock’s Wood.”

  Just hearing her say ‘the hill on the edge of Badock’s Wood’ made Garraway shudder and feel nauseous.

  “Boyd was intent on causing trouble, he wanted to fight the boy……….Ben. He walked over to the boy on his own, the others stayed back. They spoke, I didn’t hear what they were saying and then the next thing I saw was Boyd hitting the girl ……….Liz, but she hit him harder and he fell to the ground.”

  Carla stopped again and drank the last of her water, Richard went to the kitchen and refilled the glass. She waited for her father to return before she continued.

  “Now, Boyd and the boy, Ben, where fighting and Ben was on top of Boyd, but then Greeny, Mossy and Seb came over and started kicking the shit out of Ben.”

  She glanced at her father and apologised for swearing.

  “This is when I wanted everything to stop, I ran over to the girl and I wanted me and her to intervene, somehow I thought the two of us could stop everything.”

  “Where was your friend, Charlotte, when this was going on?” asked Garraway,

  She shook her head.

  “I don’t remember, she must have stayed out of the way, I think she may have been with John.”

  “So John wasn’t attacking Ben?”

  Carla shook her head.

  “No, he didn’t touch Ben.”

  She started to cry again, but quickly composed herself.

  “I started shouting at Liz, trying to get her attention so we could do something together and stop the fight, but she must have misunderstood and she threw me to the ground……….and then……….and then that’s when John started attacking her.”

  “Why do you think he did that?”

  “I think he fancied me, perhaps he was trying to protect me, but he was relentless, he just wouldn’t stop kicking her. He kicked her over and over again, I thought he would never stop, it was horrible, I couldn’t bear to watch……….and then I looked at Ben……….I saw Boyd, with a rock, holding it over his head……….and then……….and then.”

  Carla could no longer speak, she co
uldn’t compose herself this time, she was crying uncontrollably. She was crying more than she had done last night when she had told her father what had happened. Perhaps it was because Garraway was there, the whole thing seemed clearer, as if it had happened the day before, everything seemed so fresh in her mind. Garraway was next to speak.

  “This is when you shouted ‘police’, when you made everyone one run, they ran into the woods didn’t they?”

  Carla’s tears briefly subsided, which gave her an opportunity to speak.

  “Yes, how did you know?”

  “So it was too late for Ben, Daniel Boyd had killed him, but when you shouted ‘police’, and there were no police, everyone stopped what they were doing and ran, and this is what, I think, saved Liz’s life.”

  Carla nodded and then said something which took Garraway, Lester and Richard by surprise.

  “It may have saved Liz’s life, but that doesn’t mean much now. I don’t think she’ll be alive for very much longer.”

  “Why, why would you think that?”

  “Mr Garraway, I think you know as well as I do, there is something about all of this that gives you some kind of sixth sense, you see things, you know things are going to happen.”

  “It’s the hill,” replied Garraway.

  “There’s something about the hill in the woods, it has immense power and it’s what’s drawn you to me and it’s what’s drawn the soul, or the spirit or whatever is left of Ben Walker to the little boy in the hypnotist’s chair.”

  Richard stood up and spoke.

  “Please can you give Carla a break, she’s told you everything she knows.”

  “For now,” replied Garraway, “but I’m afraid she’s going to have to go over everything again……….you see I’m no longer in charge of the case.”

  “Why not?” asked Richard.

  “It made me ill, very ill. You see me now, bent over and walking on crutches. I wasn’t like this until I headed up Ben’s murder case. I’ve had a nervous breakdown and I am now unfit to be a detective.”

  “So my daughter needs to do this again?”

  Garraway nodded.

  “Detective Matthews, who is now in charge of the case will need to speak with her, this is unofficial, with him it will be official……….but before he becomes involved I need to speak with your daughter a little more. There are things we both need to discuss, if not for any other reason than to confirm that neither of us have gone insane.”

  Carla looked at Garraway and nodded.

  Chapter one hundred and forty one

  Southmead Hospital

  12.50pm

  Tuesday 19th June

  Anne Mason pressed the orange call button by the side of her daughter’s bed as Liz screamed. She was holding her head with both hands and screaming in pain.

  Two nurses quickly came over and Anne stood to one side.

  “She’s in pain, she’s says it’s her head,” said Anne frantically.

  Liz was rolling from side to side in her hospital bed, holding her head and screaming at the top of her voice. The nurses were trying to talk to her, but Liz didn’t even seem to know they were there.

  Dr Edison came running over.

  “She needs a sedative, and quickly,” he said authoritatively.

  One of the nurses went away and quickly returned with a syringe and a phial, which she handed to the doctor. He injected the solution and waited for her to calm down.

  “What’s wrong, what’s the matter with her?” demanded Anne.

  “It’s probably just an after effect of her brain injury. But I think we should arrange an MRI scan, just to be sure.”

  “Why, what could it be?” cried Anne.

  “Please, please calm down Mrs. Mason, your daughter has suffered a traumatic brain injury, this is why she’s been in a coma for so long. The MRI scan will show whether there is anything we’ve not picked up, you know, belts and braces, just to be sure.”

  Anne held her daughter’s hand as she lay calmly and slept peacefully.

  Chapter one hundred and forty two

  Stanley Brown’s house

  12.55pm

  Tuesday 19th June

  “Here’s the spare key. Let yourself in, make yourself a brew, put the television on, but don’t touch anything else,” said Stanley as he let Daniel into his house.

  Stanley lived alone, his wife had died seven years ago. His two children were grown up and had children of their own. They both lived in London.

  “Thank you, thank you, thank you, thank you,” said Boyd.

  “I need to go, otherwise I’ll be late……….remember don’t touch anything.”

  Boyd nodded and thanked him again. He watched him get into his Golf and drive away. He closed the door and slumped into Stanley’s easy chair.

  “What the fuck am I going to do?”

  Chapter one hundred and forty three

  Markland Garraway’s house

  1.01pm

  Tuesday 19th June

  Garraway let out a big sigh as Carla dried her eyes.

  “How did you know about me, where did you get that picture from?” asked Carla.

  “This is what I wanted to speak to you about,” replied Garraway.

  He asked Lester to hand him the Dostoevsky novel from the shelf. He turned it to the back page, the blank page onto which he’d written the details of the dream he’d had a year to the day that Ben was murdered. He flattened the page and passed the book to Carla.

  “Read that, and tell me what you think.”

  She saw the sketch of her on the opposite page, and resisted the urge to look at it. Carla read the account of the events on the night of the murder and also the description of her.

  “Did you write this?”

  Garraway nodded.

  “And did you draw this?” said Carla, pointing to the sketch.

  Garraway looked at her with a blank expression.

  “I’ve absolutely no idea, I can’t see how I did, I can’t draw.”

  “This description, it’s pretty much as it happened on the night, how did you know?”

  “It came to me in a dream, a year to the very day Ben was murdered.”

  Carla placed the book on the table and stared blankly into space, then turned to Garraway.

  “That was the night I dreamt of you, I dreamt that you were in the woods, at the time of the attack.”

  “That sounds about right,” said Garraway in a nonchalant tone of voice.

  “So how did the picture of me get there, if you didn’t do it?”

  Garraway explained to Carla how he came to find the book, on the table with the sketch of her ready for him to see.

  She examined the picture and ran her fingers over the pen marks, following the flow of the lines that made up the exact likeness of her.

  “I think I know who drew this.”

  No one spoke as she gazed at the picture.

  “I think I drew it,” she said as she placed the book on the table.

  “What do you mean?” asked her father.

  She picked the book up and handed it to him.

  “See for yourself, that’s one of mine.”

  Richard looked at it. He didn’t want to admit it, but he had to agree, it was exactly like one of her sketches, it was the same style, the way the pen had danced, almost carelessly across the paper. It was Carla’s style without a doubt.

  “Mr Garraway, I don’t know how, but I think I was trying to lead you to me.”

  Lester had stopped writing and watched in awe as Carla and Garraway spoke, he quickly snapped out of it and scribbled what had just been said.

  Garraway and Carla spent the next five minutes comparing the strange things that had happened to them since the night of the murder.

  “So what about the little boy, the one in the video, how did he get mixed up in all of this?” asked Carla.

  “Well, he’s the key to it all. He was born at the precise moment that rock came crashing down on Ben’s head. The
second he died, was the time Christopher Jameson, the little boy in the video, was born.”

  “How can you prove that, you can’t know the time Ben was killed?”

  “We can, and we do. His watch broke at the time the rock smashed down upon him. We know he was hit several times with that rock, and his watch broke just before he died, it must have smashed when he was hit before the final blow.”

  Carla shuddered.

  “So Ben’s been waiting patiently inside the little boy, waiting for the chance to be heard?”

  “That’s the way I see it.”

  She grabbed another tissue, wiped her eyes and shook her head.

  Garraway took hold of his crutches and stood up. What he was about to announce, he needed to say with an air of authority. He didn’t think that sitting, crumpled in a chair made him look as though he was in charge.

  “Carla, I think you know what’s coming next.”

  She nodded.

  “I am going to call Colin Matthews. The two of us don’t see eye to eye and I think he’s going to be more than a little surprised when I tell him you’re here, and I don’t think he’ll be very happy about the circumstances which have lead you to me.”

  He picked up his phone from the table, still with the voice recorder app running, and called Matthews’s mobile number.

  ---------------------------------------------

  “Colin, its Markland.”

  “You bastard Garraway, what the hell do you think you’re playing at? ………. I’ve spent the last hour in Munroe’s office because of you……….and he’s after you sunshine, he’s really after your guts.”

  “That doesn’t surprise me……….any way, I have something useful for you, something a little more, let’s say real.”

  “What is it, the rotting corpse of Ben Walker, telling you how he died?”

  “No, not quite Colin.”

  Matthews cringed as he heard Garraway’s patronising tone, which was something about him he’d always disliked.

  “Do you remember the girl in the picture, well I’m sure you do, she’s famous now……….well she’s as real as you and I, and what’s more she’s here with me, in my house……….”