A Confusion of Murders: There's murder on his mind...

by Marina Johnson

  A uniformed policeman climbs through the hole then swiftly moves the chest of drawers away from the door to let several others in. Suddenly the room is crowded. Two of them kneel next to Simon, while the third radios for an ambulance.

  ‘You don’t need to handcuff me. I’m injured.’ Simon is squealing at the officer.

  The officer ignores him, and I watch as he pulls the cuffs tighter, Simon squeals again. The officer’s mouth is set in a grim, tight line.

  ‘Come on, let’s get you out of here.’ I walk on jellied legs as Gareth half carries me down the stairs and into the lounge. He lowers me gently onto the sofa and I sit and stare into space.

  ‘You’re in shock, Louise. We’ll get the doctor to have a look at you when he gets here.’ He picks up Dad’s tartan rug from his chair and puts it over me.

  And all I can think is; I wanted to kill him, as I pulled the trigger I wanted him to die for what he’d done. I wasn’t thinking about what would happen to me, I just wanted him dead. If the gun had been loaded with another bullet I would have killed him.

  That feeling cannot be undone.

  I’m as bad as him.

  ‘I don’t understand how you knew it was him,’ I say. ‘How did you know?’

  It’s Saturday afternoon and I’m at home, Gareth arrived an hour ago, Sprocket is lying across my feet snoozing and I’m snuggled up safe and warm in Gareth’s arms.

  He massages his forehead with his fingers and I think how tired he looks.

  But it’s over now.

  Gareth can’t be personally involved with me and continue to run the murder investigation so has handed it over to another officer. I think he’s a bit disappointed that he doesn’t get to finish the job, but the bonus is that after two long days of handing over and debriefing he’s on leave.

  When I gave my statement at the station, we went over and over what happened so many times that I thought I was going to scream. Every tiny detail; details that I wasn’t even aware that I knew.

  And it was all true, except for one small detail.

  I told them that the first shot I fired was empty and that the second shot was the one that hit Simon in the leg.

  Yesterday was a blur. I vaguely remember Nick arriving home, there seemed to be lots of cups of tea made that I didn’t drink and meals that I didn’t eat. I was in shock but today I feel better, not so numb.

  Today is the first time I’ve seen Gareth since it all happened. We sat together on Dad’s sofa until the ambulance arrived and once the paramedic had checked me over I was given a hot, sweet cup of tea by a WPC and taken in the back of a police car to the station. As we turned the corner onto the main road I recognised Rupert’s car coming towards me, so someone had obviously tipped him off. I quickly looked down, so my hair covered my face. I didn’t want to be a headline in the paper I work for.

  ‘Your sighting of Suzanne Jenkins going into the house next door to Linda clinched it. We were closing in on him, but we wouldn’t have got there so quickly without your tip off. We knew Glenda had some house viewings lined up and we were trawling through the estate agents.’ He pulls me closer. ‘To think I nearly lost you. It doesn’t bear thinking about.’

  ‘But how did you know where I was? Where he was?’ My brain is fuddled, I can’t make sense of it.

  ‘He wasn’t at work, so we went to his house,’ he explains. ‘I started to worry then, I knew you were going to your Dad’s. When his wife opened the door - the look on her face, she knew. When we asked where he was she just caved and told us he’d gone next door. I think she was relieved. Actually, I think she quite enjoyed it once she realised he’d never be coming home again.’

  He pulls me closer, Sprocket snores louder.

  ‘I feared the worst then; I’ve never felt so afraid in all my life. I was making all sorts of deals with God as we broke down the door.’ We hold each other tight, not speaking.

  I look up at Gareth, this work-weary inspector, who must have seen so much in his career, and he feared losing me. I hug him tighter.

  ‘Dad knew something was wrong, but he got the wrong person,’ I say.

  ‘He did, Simon manipulated your Dad to make him think it was the other neighbour. Forensics are taking the shed apart – looks like he used it to store the bodies for a while.’

  The bastard, Dad thought he was his friend. I almost wish there had been another bullet in the gun.

  ‘His wife knew? She knew all along?’

  ‘Suspected, although she’s playing dumb now. Probably too frightened of him to do anything.’

  ‘The fake Scottish lady,’ I say suddenly. ‘The phone calls to the newspaper, they were her!’

  ‘She’s not admitting anything, but yes, more than likely.’

  How could she? Because of her Glenda died and I would too if it wasn’t for Dad’s Luger.

  ‘Anyway, once he’s out of hospital he’ll tell us everything. He knows he’s going to prison for the rest of his life so there’s no use denying it. As for his wife, time will tell whether the CPS prosecutes her.’

  I snuggle into Gareth’s neck and close my eyes.

  ‘Louise?’ Gareth says hesitantly.

  ‘Mmm?’

  ‘Did you know the gun was loaded?’

  I pull away and look up at him.

  ‘No. Nick took the bullets out of it weeks ago and hid them. Dad must have found them and loaded it, luckily for me.’

  ‘It was.’

  A sudden thought hits me. ‘Will I be charged? For shooting him?’

  ‘No. Self-defence, no need to worry.’

  ‘That’s a relief.’ I snuggle back into Gareth’s neck.

  By the time the other policemen came in Gareth had moved me away from Simon. Simon was screaming that I tried to kill him but everyone surmised it was self-defence.

  ‘It’s a very old gun. Difficult to be sure which chamber was fired first. But they’ve no reason to look,’ Gareth reassures me.

  ‘You sure you’re up for visiting?’

  ‘Of course, I am. Stop fussing Nick, I’m absolutely fine and I want to see Dad.’

  We’re outside Blossom Unit waiting to be buzzed in.

  ‘Just don’t want you overdoing it. I should have been here.’

  ‘For God’s sake, stop feeling so guilty. I’m fine and you need to stop beating yourself up about it.’ He’s been like this ever since he got back yesterday.

  I go through and hold the door open for him. ‘I wonder if Dad has seen it on the news? Do you think we should tell him if he hasn’t?’

  ‘Don’t know,’ says Nick, ‘see how he is? Depends whether he’s away with the fairies or not.’

  We can’t see Dad as we go in, so we carry on round to his room.

  ‘Hello Dad.’ He’s sitting in his chair looking out of the window at the tree.

  ‘Oh, hello you two,’ he gets up. ‘It’s been all go here, today.’

  ‘Been busy then Dad?’ Nick settles himself in the other chair. I suppose I’m sitting on the bed then.

  ‘Been defusing a bomb.’ He sits back down and crosses his arms.

  ‘Really,’ says Nick. ‘How exciting.’

  Dad then tells us in great detail how he and two others defused a bomb that they found under a table in the dining room. I find my mind drifting, his words becoming distant. An unaccountable feeling of sadness washes over me; sadness for Dad losing his mind in his twilight years, the pointless deaths of two women. The futility of it all.

  ‘LOUISE!’ Nick hisses at me, shaking me out of myself-pity.

  ‘What?’

  ‘Dad was just saying that he had a visitor.’

  ‘I did.’ Dad looks pleased with himself.

  ‘What, today?’

  Dad nods. ‘Just before you got here. Been like Clapham Junction, it has.’

  ‘Who?’ I’m surprised they’ve let someone else in, they told us family only for the moment.

  ‘You’ll never guess.’ He looks really pleased with himself.


  ‘Jean?’

  ‘No, not Jean. Simon.’

  Nick raises his eyebrows at me.

  ‘Oh, really? How was he?’

  ‘Not happy. Not happy at all.’ Dad seems to find this really funny.

  ‘Why was that?’ How are we even having this conversation?

  ‘He’s not happy with you, Louise.’ He’s really laughing now. I look at Nick whose eyebrows have nearly disappeared into his hair.

  ‘He says you tried to kill him. I don’t know, I think he’s gone barmy.’ he points his finger at his forehead. ‘Not right in the head.’

  I’m speechless, so say nothing. Dad must have seen the news of Simon’s arrest on the TV. But he wouldn’t have known he was shot; that was kept out of the public domain. And my name has been kept out of it totally, much to Ralph’s disgust. Although I know it will all come out in the trial.

  Dad’s muttering under his breath.

  ‘What’s that Dad?’ prompts Nick.

  ‘I said,’ Dad shouts, ‘I never did like him much. Shifty.’

  Nick and I look at each other and laugh. There’s a hysterical quality to my laughter and I can’t stop.

  ‘What’s so funny?’ Dad’s annoyed.

  ‘Nothing, Dad.’ I say. ‘Nothing.’ But I can’t stop. Tears run down my face and I get hiccups. It’s only when I see Nick’s concerned face that I manage to control myself.

  ‘Anyway,’ Dad is looking at me intently, ‘the main thing is that you’re okay. Simon’s leg will mend and if it doesn’t that’s too bad, he got what he deserved.’ How does he know? He couldn’t possibly know.

  ‘Lucky your policewoman friend was there.’ He frowns at Nick. ‘Although she left it to the last minute.’ He sniffs.

  It’s all in there, jumbled up, but somehow, he knows.

  ‘Anyway,’ he goes on, ‘you know what you have to do now. Or not do. The choice is yours.’

  Nick looks at me, ‘What? What’s he on about?’

  I shrug my shoulders, ‘I don’t know.’

  But I do.

  ‘How the hell could he know? About Simon being shot? Any of it? How?’ I ask as we walk across the car park to the car, Nick shaking his head in disbelief.

  ‘I don’t know, but he does.’

  ‘And what was that about your choice?’

  ‘No idea.’

  ‘Chipper though, wasn’t he? Seemed happy even though he’s away with the fairies. A nice visit.’

  It was a nice visit. After telling us Simon has visited Dad then went on to tell us about the tigers in the garden again and we all laughed together and yes, it was all nonsense, but Dad was happy. He doesn’t really know where he is or why but he’s there, but he’s content. He’s in cloud cuckoo land and nothing can touch him or hurt him now.

  ‘Nick.’

  ‘Hmm?’

  ‘I’ve got something to tell you.’

  We both stop, and he looks at me.

  ‘Shit. You’re not ill, are you?’

  ‘No, I’m not. Look, let’s get in the car and I’ll tell you.’

  When we reach the car, we get in and sit in silence.

  ‘Come on then, don’t keep me in suspense.’

  ‘Okay.’ I take a deep breath.

  So I tell him, all of it. And as I tell him he doesn’t speak, and when I’ve finished he buries his head in his hands.

  Should I have told him? I don’t know. I only know that I can’t carry this secret around with me for the rest of my life. Mum is dead, before too long Dad won’t even know who we are, so that just leaves Nick and I, and my real mother.

  ‘I’m sorry, so, so sorry.’ I put my hand on Nick’s arm. ‘I wish I could have spared you this, but I can’t keep it a secret any longer, Nick.’

  He doesn’t speak, and I think: I’ve lost him; I’ve lost my brother who means everything to me.

  Nick wipes his eyes with his hands, his face is wet with tears and I wish I could take back my words.

  ‘You’re sure? You’re sure this is all true?’

  ‘Yes. Everything fits. Dates, circumstances. Dad’s confession.’

  ‘You can’t trust that,’ he almost laughs.

  ‘No. But I believe it’s all true.’

  ‘I don’t even know why I asked, of course it’s true.’ He looks rueful.

  ‘It’s a hell of a shock. I’ve had a few weeks to get used to it.’

  ‘Fuck me. Shock’s a bit of an understatement.’

  We look at each other and then we start to laugh; at the absurdity of it all, the insane unbelievability of it.

  But mostly we laugh, because we’re family; because he’s my brother and I’m his sister and whatever happens, we’ll face it together.

  Epilogue

  I lived here long ago, although I have no memory of it.

  The houses in Ravenscroft Avenue are three floors high with large bay windows and coloured tiles in the front porches. Low brick walls surround the front gardens and ageing, knobbly trees lift the paving slabs under my feet.

  I’ve walked past number twenty-four three times now trying to find the courage to knock on the door. I’m feeling slightly paranoid and wonder if curtains are twitching, so, on the fourth pass I take a deep breath and veer off the pavement without stopping, open the gate, march up the path and climb the three steps to the front door.

  The door is big, much wider and taller than my own and painted a glossy black with a shiny chrome letterbox and knocker. Either side of the porch old, stone plant pots can barely contain the huge leafy plants that tumble out of them. This house is not one of the shabby ones, it is loved and well looked after. I feel a surprising stab of envy. Envy for the life I could have lived, the family I could have had.

  Right, here goes. I grab the knocker with my clammy fingers and because I’m so nervous I bang it much too hard. The sound reverberates behind the door.

  I try to steady my breathing to slow my pounding heart. I take a deep breath and exhale slowly through my nose, hearing the air as it escapes my nostrils.

  I wait. And wait. I’m already turning to leave when the door is opened.

  And there she is.

  ‘Yes?’ she says, making it a question.

  She’s taller than I expected and looks younger too, and a part of me remembers. She’s waiting for me to speak but all I can do is stare. She looks annoyed and I expect the door to shut at any moment.

  ‘Can I help you?’ She sounds uncertain now, her eyes search my face and she nervously flutters her hand to cover her mouth. Does she recognise me? Is there a faint trace of something about me that is familiar to her?

  My throat is so dry that it hurts to swallow, as if my body is trying to stop me from speaking.

  What I say next will change lives forever.

  Time seems to slow down; there’s a stillness in the air. It feels as though we’re in a bubble; the only two people in the world. I stare at her and she stares back with eyes that look so familiar; eyes that are just like mine. Does she see it? Does she know what I’m about to say? Is that hope that I see in her eyes?

  When I start to speak my voice is hoarse and as I say the words she takes her hand from her mouth and begins to cry.

  ‘Hello,’ I say, ‘I think I’m your daughter.’

  THE END

  Thank you so much for reading this book. I really do appreciate it. I am an Indie Author, not backed by a big publishing company. This is my debut novel and if you’ve enjoyed reading it I’m genuinely thrilled. I’ve worked hard to eliminate any typos and errors, but if you spot any, please let me know: marinajohnson2017@outlook.com.

  If you enjoyed this book please leave a review on Amazon and if you think your friends would enjoy reading it, please share it with them.

  Many thanks

  Marina Johnson

  If you would like to read Tom’s viewpoint you can get it for free here.

  Lewy Bodies Dementia

  Lewy Bodies Dementia impairs thinking, memory, executive function (
planning, processing information), or the ability to understand visual information. Patients with LBD may have fluctuations in attention or alertness; problems with movement including tremors, stiffness, slowness and difficulty walking; hallucinations; and alterations in sleep and behaviour.

  Progressively debilitating, LBD can also cause people to experience visual hallucinations or act out their dreams.

  https://www.lbda.org/