Revelations 12

by De Freitas

“I don’t know, Blaine. Something is not right here. If you look at this photo of the position of the body, this is how she was. The priest told me they did not move her; it was clear she was dead. Now, the front door opens in towards the hallway. Her body was about four feet inside the house, so I’m thinking the gunman sees her drive up, stands in the kitchen and as soon as she closes the door she is trapped in the hallway. He opens fire, so the bullet can’t be outside. It must be in here but it’s not. It does not make sense. There is no way any gunman would open fire until that door is closed. The coroner’s report clearly states two entry wounds: one wound was to the chest and one to the stomach with an exit wound out the left side of the back. She had to be facing the gunman. Standing or slightly crouched, the bullet would likely exit her back and hit the door somewhere here.”

  “I know what you are saying, Sheriff, but look around. It’s not here. I can’t see it on the floor or someone kicking it and not noticing.”

  “Blaine, my gut tells me this was not a robbery. What the hell is there of any kind of value in this place? This was a pretty simple woman living off a VA pension with a part time job. I’m telling you, it is connected to what’s been happening. It may not be the single stab wound to the heart but the size nine and a half prints are consistent. If Holman did not have a rock solid alibi, I’d have him locked up now. So who the hell did this?”

  *

  On 10th December, 1989, a service was held for Martha Holman at St Mary’s Church in Sidon. It was without question the hardest service Fr. Mark ever had to perform; on a number of occasions he had to pause and compose himself. Unlike Linda’s funeral, this was a far smaller gathering. Along with Simon, there was Martin and Brenda Bernstein, Mr Caine, a girl from the supermarket… Also, there were a few of the women from the surrounding community, some of whom were in the room when Simon was born and who had not seen her since, came to pay their respects. However, noticeably absent from the service was Martha’s sister.

  The record showed that Martha L Holman, aged forty-two, was laid to rest at 3:10pm on 10th December 1989. She was buried alongside her husband John on the outskirts of Sidon, approximately twelve miles from where she spent most of her life.

  CHAPTER 20

  More than nine weeks had passed since the death of Martha. Simon told Fr. Mark he would like to return home. Early the next day, they got into Fr. Mark’s car and headed out of town. For the entire journey not a word was spoken. They were both lost in their individual memories of Martha. They had tried to prepare themselves but, as soon as they opened the door, they both pictured Martha on the ground. The emotion was too raw and they broke into tears.

  Fr. Mark pulled Simon’s arm and motioned to leave but he ignored him and walked slowly down the hallway, imagining what had taken place that day. In the living room a piece of wood had been hastily nailed onto the window frame. Simon looked into his bedroom, his wardrobe was open and his books were on the floor. Further along the corridor, in Martha’s bedroom, there were clear signs that the person had rummaged through her cupboards and draws.

  “Will you be okay, Simon?”

  “I’ll be fine. Thanks for everything, you can head off, Father.”

  “You be sure to call me if there is anything you need, okay?”

  Simon nodded.

  *

  Sheriff Amos sat at the head of the conference table and looked at his team. He could not detect even a hint of optimism. The faces were drawn from weeks of hard work without reward. He was feeling the same but knew, as their leader, he had to remain motivated.

  “Okay, Blaine, what have we got?”

  “Look, Sheriff,” the exasperated deputy said, “we have to accept the facts. We are running out of options here and, unless something comes up, it’s not looking good.”

  “I know what you are saying, but we don’t have much choice. Perhaps it’s time to go public, we can head over there, film a re-enactment and see if it generates public interest in the case. Perhaps someone will call in. Guys, come on. Give me something. Oscar, what have you got?”

  “Sheriff, I know we have nothing on the sister, but I just can’t see past her. Okay, her car was definitely at the mechanic. We know that and we know she did not walk there and back, as the dogs would have tracked her. She either borrowed a car, or got a lift, perhaps with Brookman. We know it can’t be the son, so who else can there be? I mean she basically had a boss who, from all accounts, thought the world of her and a priest as a friend. That’s it. We are speaking about a woman who had no enemies and I don’t care how the house looks, that was not a robbery. Did she find something out and call Simon to tell him that morning? We know the sister drove Brookman to Horizon. Perhaps she did Linda and Martha.”

  “Fair enough, Oscar, I’ll tell you what. We have nothing on the sister but what the hell? Let’s go over there today and try and rough her up a bit. I need to blow off some steam anyway.”

  *

  Sheriff Amos, Deputy Blaine and Oscar jumped in the patrol car and drove out to have a word with Annamae.

  The door opened slightly, her face was like thunder. Before the sheriff could utter a word, Annamae left him in little doubt that she was not interested in talking to him. As she put it, “get to bloody hell off my land, if you don’t have a warrant,” and then she slammed the door.

  “Well, that didn’t exactly go to plan, Sheriff!”

  “Bitch! I know somehow she is involved. She’s only made one mistake so far: thinking if she turned up Orchard Street the camera would not pick her up. I tell you, she is no fool and, after that mistake, she is probably even more careful than ever.”

  “Let’s pass by Holman’s house again. We must be missing something.”

  *

  “Hey, look, Sheriff: the kitchen window is open. The boy must have returned home.”

  Sheriff Amos knocked at the door.

  “Hello. Sheriff.”

  “Hi, Simon. How are you? When did you come home?”

  “I just came back a few hours ago.”

  “Did Fr Mark drop you off?”

  “Yes, sir.”

  “Have you had a chance to look around?”

  “Come on in, Sheriff. I’ve made the list of the missing items you asked me about. It’s on the kitchen table.”

  1 x gold chain

  2 x rings

  1 x pendent with flower

  Unknown number gold earrings

  1 x pair of shoes

  Sheriff Amos glanced down the list and spotted the shoes instantly. “What did these shoes look like? Tell me, son, how sure are you they are missing?”

  “They were track shoes, sir. I don’t have a lot of shoes, so I know they are missing.”

  “What brand were they?”

  “They were Adidas.”

  “That’s it, Sheriff,” said Deputy Blaine. “I bet they match the footprints.”

  “Where did you get them, Simon?”

  “Linda bought them for me. I don’t know where she purchased them.”

  The sheriff looked at Oscar and Deputy Blaine. “Come on, guys. Let’s figure this out. How did it go down?”

  Deputy Blaine took a piece of paper and started writing possibilities. The sheriff sat there looking up at the ceiling. For a few minutes, there was silence in the kitchen.

  “It’s got to be!” he shouted out. “Look, Blaine, she was not killed here. She was killed over at the sister’s house, that is where the missing bullet is.”

  “But, Sheriff, how did she get the body here? Certainly not in through the window, there would be a trail of blood and I doubt she would be strong enough to carry it all the way from the road and down through the fields.”

  “Sheriff, if we are all thinking the same, and she put on Simon’s shoes to leave so it looked like a man, how did she get tracks to a
nd from the window that led into the field?”

  “Damn, yeah. How did she do it? Think, guys. This woman is pretty smart but we are on the right track. I know we are.”

  The three officers sat at the kitchen table, each writing a sequence with how the murder was committed, in line with the evidence.

  “Okay, guys. How is this?” said the sheriff. “For her to be killed at the sister’s home, Martha must have gone there in her car. She goes into the house, something happens and Annamae shoots her. She puts her in the car and drives over here and dumps the body by the door.”

  “Yes,” said Oscar, “but Martha’s footprints are clearly seen getting out of the car. Actually, that’s it… in fact, yes that is it. Annamae was wearing Martha’s shoes, making it look like Martha. She got out and that is why she went to the trunk of the car as that is where the body was and she carried it inside.”

  “Exactly!” said the sheriff. “That all fits the evidence. Now she puts the shoes back on Martha, which means she has no shoes, also she has to make it look like a robbery. So, the purse is taken along with some jewellery and, while going through the house, she comes across Simon’s shoes, takes them and thinks ‘perfect: nine and a half’. Convenient match for Julia’s murder.”

  “So, what about the footprints to and from the window?” asked Oscar.

  “I have that,” said Deputy Blaine. “She needs to show she did not arrive in the car; she has to show tracks coming through the window. She opens it from the living room side, climbs out and closes it. She walks to the field. Those are her tracks leaving the house. She then finds a stone and throws it at the window. She has to show tracks approaching the window, so she walks up to the window and then backs up in the same tracks, leaving one set of tracks to the window and one from it. This fits because, if you remember, one set of footprints had a fairly distinct pattern. The other, not as clear so that must be her back tracking.”

  “We have the bitch now,” said the sheriff. “There is no other explanation that fits all the evidence. She was just really fortunate that her car was at the mechanic. It gave her a great alibi.”

  “One last thing, Sheriff,” said Oscar. “There has to be a driver that collected her when she walked up to the top of the road. Was it Brookman?”

  “Definitely, you’re correct, Oscar. She had a driver, but we have enough to bring her in and then, believe me, I will make sure we get all the information we need out of her, including who her accomplice was.”

  Simon looked at the officers. They were so lost in thought that they were oblivious to the fact that he had been seated at the table throughout.

  “I’m sorry you had to hear all of this. We got a bit excited putting it together. It involves the death of your mother by your only aunt.”

  “Actually, Sheriff, I sat here hoping you would find a way to get her.”

  “I’m pretty sure we have, son.”

  “So, are you going there now?”

  “As much as I would love to, I would prefer to wait till morning. We will get the arrest warrant issued this evening and, at dawn tomorrow, we will go there. I like arresting people at that time as they are least prepared. In the meantime, you are not allowed to say a word of this. In fact, with your aunt just down the road, I would prefer it if you didn’t spend the night here on your own. I’ve a spare room by me which you’re welcome to use, or we can drop you back to the church.”

  “I don’t want to bother Father again. I’ll go with you.”

  “Blaine, I want the house watched overnight. Put a couple of guys on it ‘til we get there in the morning. If she leaves, have her followed and I want to know right away.”

  That evening, an arrest warrant was granted and, the following morning, Sheriff Amos dispatched two plainclothes officers to be dropped off at the top of the road. They were directed to make their way through the fields and cover the back door of the house. Once in position, Sheriff Amos approached the house. There were two other patrol cars behind him with a forensics van following them. Simon was in the second patrol car and had been told not to exit the vehicle until he was given instructions.

  Sheriff Amos stopped his car, got out, and looked in the front window. He could see the TV was on. As he walked towards the front door with Deputy Blaine, a single gunshot rang out and the two officers both hit the ground. In the second patrol car, Simon was violently shoved to the floor by an officer. Sheriff Amos and Deputy Blaine stayed below the level of the windows and listened for movement inside the house. They heard nothing but the sound of the TV. Sheriff Amos looked into the field. One of his officers shook his head indicating that Annamae had not exited out the back. He waited a few more minutes. There was definitely no sound of movement in the house. He lifted his head and looked through the living room window; it looked clear. He crawled forward past the front door and looked into the kitchen. On the floor, he could see a body.

  CHAPTER 21

  The coroner’s report classed Annamae’s death as suicide, due to a single bullet that was fired from a Smith and Wesson Model 30 revolver. The bullet penetrated the roof of her mouth at a 65 degree angle and lodged in the cerebellum area of her brain. The day her body was released by the coroner, it was sent to the crematorium. Her ashes were never collected.

  Sheriff Amos and his team, who had come in for so much criticism, were now viewed in a much more favourable light, despite the police’s insistence that Linda and Julia’s murders remain unsolved. The media judged Annamae guilty on all three counts. Slowly, the topic of conversations in the streets and cafes went from murder, back to local everyday news and gossip.

  Robert and Beth could never make up their minds, completely, as to who was responsible for their daughter’s death. As much as they wanted to believe it was Annamae, they just could not see any motive for her to have killed Julia or, for that matter, Linda. They were quietly pleased that, from a law enforcement point of view, their murder investigations remained active.

  Simon was now completely alone for the first time in his life. Other than Fr. Mark, he had no one. The sudden death of Martha and the fact there was no goodbye, was difficult for him. He wondered what she thought about in her final moments, as she collapsed to the floor. He had only recently returned to Horizon Bank, following the death of Linda but then, when Martha died, he felt he could not give his best. He asked Martin Bernstein for time off and again Martin told him to take as much time as he liked. There would be a job waiting for him when he was ready to return.

  Financially, Simon was comfortable. The legal formalities were settled without difficulty and the house was transferred to his name. Unexpectedly, Annamae Jackson had it in her will for Simon to inherit her home. Martha also had a small life insurance policy, which Simon got. He had his savings, including the mortgage down payment he had planned to put on a home for Linda and himself. He knew, at some stage, he would have to return to work but, for the moment, living expenses were not an issue.

  Christmas Day of 1989 came and went. Simon could not face the thought of spending Christmas without Martha. He did not want to even switch on the TV to be reminded of it. The home he thought of as so small, suddenly became larger. As the weeks passed, he tried to make the adjustment to living on his own. He spent his time reading and praying. Suddenly he was living in a silent, lonely world and, after a while, he began to long for human interaction.

  He remembered going to visit the elderly with Fr. Mark. He started to understand a little about the mental and physical deterioration brought on by the loneliness that they had spoken of. For many, their partner had long since passed away. Their children seldom made contact. Lifelong friends were either in hospital or had died, and the isolation of country life led to a desperate loneliness, which eroded their will to live.

  Some were in a lot of pain physically, but the pain of loneliness was greater and they would walk long distances to get the bus i
nto town, just to sit in a café with a cup of tea. Sadly, the cup would go cold in front of them as they looked around hoping for a smile, or a brief conversation with someone, anyone.

  On many occasions, they told Fr. Mark that they had nothing left to live for. The sadness and despair had gotten to them and they just wanted to die. Some had contemplated suicide but could not bring themselves to do it. Others simply slept out in the cold, hoping they would not wake up.

  Now, suddenly with no family of his own, Simon wondered how they were getting on. He felt terrible. He had only experienced a fraction of what their lives were like and it had taken a toll on him. He swore he would never pass another elderly person again and not smile or say hello. He tried to make a list of the ones he could remember, but he could only come up with four names. I’m going to have to call Fr. Mark, he thought.

  It was, indeed, a sad time for Simon. He would dream about marrying Linda and the life they would share only to wake up and remember the reality. No Linda and no Mom. Being alone meant such a lack of mental stimulation, he could feel his brain wasting away. He was replaying the same thoughts over and over in his head. What was it that made Mom go to Annamae’s house that fateful day? She had made it clear, she wanted nothing to do with her. She must have either discovered, or suddenly understood something that was so disturbing that, when she confronted Annamae with it, she lost her life. Simon tried repeatedly to recreate Martha’s movements that day. She had not done much cleaning, so he knew she would likely have sat back in her chair by the fireplace. He became increasingly certain it must be something she figured out, instead of something she physically found and confronted Annamae with. She did say to Charles that there was something she wanted to tell me. If only I was not in a meeting that day, I would have taken her call and perhaps she would not have left the house.