A Move to Murder: A Bride's Bay Mystery

by Helena Lamb

  Frances rocked backwards and forwards, nodded. “Of course. She was poison. Evil. Someone had to get rid of her. I couldn’t let her do any more damage, break up any more marriages, make my life not worth living. I was waiting for her, just like I was waiting for you. I knew she was going out that afternoon so I went to her house, let myself in, waited for her to get back. She came in, went to the kitchen. I was in her studio. I knew she would go in there sometime. And she did. And I was sitting on her chair, waiting for her. And she was just like you. Stared at me. How did you get in Frances? What are you doing here? She wasn’t even scared. Not like you. She just looked at me, tossed her hair, tapped her foot, bold as brass! The cold bitch! I told her I had something I wanted to show her. Pointed to a book on the table. She started saying I had no right entering her house like that, but she bent over to look at it and I hit her. I hit her. Again and again until I knew she was dead.”

  Silence. Beth put her head down to stop passing out.

  “There was so much blood. I hadn’t realised there would be so much. And it was so red, so red.”

  She was quiet, staring out into the garden. Shook herself.

  “Then I put the hammer in a plastic bag. And I left.”

  “How did you let yourself in, Frances?” Beth’s mouth was so dry her tongue was sticking to the roof of her mouth. Her head pounded.

  Frances looked at her in surprise. “The spare key of course. Just like I used yours. I thought you might have moved it, with all the burglaries. But it was still there. The Thomas’s kept theirs under a loose brick in the wall by the washing line. Melissa didn’t even know it was there! But I did, I used to water their plants for them when they went away. Why on earth did they lend their house to her? To an evil bitch like her?” She was shaking, flecks of saliva around her mouth.

  “And the hammer? How did that end up in Gina’s flowers?”

  “It was in my kitchen, under the sink. I hid it but I knew it was there, I could smell the blood on it every time I went into the kitchen.” Frances hugged her arms and rocked. “So I had to get rid of it. I was going to bury it in the garden but then I thought, no ,I can’t put that in Daddy’s lovely garden. It would contaminate the soil, contaminate all the plants, kill them, poison them. It had that evil woman’s blood on it. I couldn’t have it amongst all our beautiful flowers. How could I have her blood in the soil? Our beautiful flowers growing out of her bloodied soil?” She shuddered and moaned.

  Beth could hardly see her now. She tried to focus but only saw black, black circles enlarging then shrinking. She felt sick, sick and dizzy.

  “So … so you took it to church?” Her voice sounded far away, a thundering in her ears.

  Frances nodded, her face crumpling. “I wasn’t going to leave it there, I was going to go and throw it in the sea. But I called into the church to check on the flowers, I knew the main pedestal needed freshening up. And Mark came in, started chatting. Told me to go round for a cup of tea after I’d finished. I couldn’t take it round there. They were free of her now I’d got rid of her, I couldn’t take her blood back into their lovely home, her evil.” Silence.

  “Then I thought, put it under the oasis. No one will ever find it there. Then I could go back the next day and remove it, throw it in the sea. So I lifted the oasis of flowers out to put the bag with the hammer underneath it. It just fitted. I tried to put the oasis back but the alstromerias were fragile, so delicate, and some of them broke, snapped. I panicked and tried to stick them back in but just broke more.” The woman was calmer now, reliving it. “I couldn’t be long; Mark might have come back in at any time. So I threw them away, got the aquilegias I had brought for the pedestal and replaced them, in the holes I had pulled the alstromerias from. Then I put the whole lot back. It looked perfect. No one would ever know what was under them.”

  She smiled, calm and dreamy. Was quiet. Looked at Beth.

  “Why did you have to get there before me that Friday? Why did you have to find it?”

  Beth shook her head. “Someone would have found it, Frances.”

  “Not if I had thrown it in the sea.” She gazed out of the window, eyes swollen from weeping, nose red and dripping.

  “Untie me Frances. Please? Then we’ll call the doctor and get you some help.”

  “What?” Frances jerked awake. “I can’t untie you. You know, Beth. You know.”

  “But I want to help you, see you get treatment….”

  Beth’s voice trailed off at the puzzled expression on Frances’s face.

  “But I don’t need treatment Beth. I’m fine. She was the one who was sick. And I did the right thing, got rid of her for you all. But I’m sorry I’ll have to get rid of you too. I like you Beth, you’re always friendly, never laugh at me. And you’re little dog, he’s a sweet thing – was a sweet thing.”

  Beth froze. “Frances” her voice shook, tears sprang to her eyes. “Frances, what have you done with Charlie? Where is he?”

  “He’s in the front room. Better you don’t see him. But he didn’t suffer, Beth, honestly. I was very quick.”

  Everything spun and shifted. Beth heard a moan leave her lips.

  “Oh Frances, why Charlie? He didn’t do anything.”

  “Well, nor did you Beth” Frances sounded surprised. “But I have to kill you don’t I? You know. I can’t have you knowing. You’ll tell the police then they’ll come for me. And I can’t leave my little house, or my beautiful garden, can I? Who would look after it? What would Daddy have said? But I am sorry about Charlie. But he wouldn’t have wanted to live without you, would he? And I’ll miss you, you’re a good person. And Tom will miss you. I’ve seen the way he looks at you. And that whore was after him too, but at least he had more sense, he only had eyes for you. And he’s kind, let’s me share his garden.”

  She rocked again, hugged her knees, smiled to herself.

  Tears were streaming down Beth’s face.

  “Frances, don’t do this. Let me get you some help. You don’t know what you’re doing.”

  “Oh but I do. It’s all planned. And I will try and make it painless for you. I’ll stand behind you and you won’t see me. It will be over so quickly, you won’t feel a thing. Just like Melissa. She didn’t make a sound. Just fell down. Like you will. Now, shall we get it over with?”

  She stood up and walked behind Beth to the sofa and picked up the hammer.

  Chapter 15

  Carol had watched Beth leaving with misgivings. Supposing her friend decided to go back to Frances’s house and challenge her? But she wouldn’t do that, would she? Beth wasn’t the bravest woman on the planet. And she had said she needed to get back for Charlie. Carol sat at the kitchen table, fretting, watching the clock and willing Ken to come home.

  Fifteen minutes later she couldn’t stand it any longer. She needed to speak to Beth. She picked up the phone and dialled the familiar number. No reply. What to say? Prayed. Beth, pick up if you’re there, please? Waited. No response. Leave a message. Phone me as soon as you get in.

  Where was Ken? Why was he always late when she needed him?

  Tom! She would phone Tom, get him to go round. He could get there in seconds. Found his number and dialled it with shaking fingers. Please be there. Please, please be there. He answered on the first ring.

  “Oh Tom, thank God. Listen, can you go round to Beth’s? Check she’s alright for me? No, no time to explain now. Just go, PLEASE. And we’ll be there as soon as we can.” Tom had put down the phone while she was still speaking. She couldn’t wait any longer for Ken. Phoned his office and told him he was needed at home now.

  Tom grabbed his house keys, slammed the door behind him and ran down the path, down to the corner of the road and across to Beth’s house on the corner. Her car was outside, front window slightly open. Everything normal. What on earth was upsetting Carol? She had sounded desperate. He walked down the front path and raised his hand to ring the bell, looked through the living room window and froze, heart thudding. Char
lie lay asleep on the sheepskin rug in front of the fireplace. Charlie often lay asleep on the sheepskin rug. But not with his head in a large pool of blood.

  Tom felt his chest being squeezed and his heart pounding so fast he thought he was having a heart attack. Sweat started pouring down his face, wetting his armpits and back. What to do? He pushed at the front door quietly but it was locked. Go round the side? But if Beth was in the kitchen with ...his mind refused to frame the words...they would see him as soon as he turned the corner. Had she got home and disturbed a burglar? He could feel his heart hammering and limbs shaking. He had to get in. Stared at the window. Could he fit through? He had to. Did it open all the way? He knew these old sash windows often stuck. Please don’t stick. Please. The word pounded through his head in rhythm with his heartbeat. Pushed the frame up quietly, willing it not to squeak. He eased it up as far as it would go and immediately it started to slide down again. Pushed it back up and pushed his head and shoulders through, plugging the gap. He felt his back and sides scraping along the wooden frame and knew he had broken the skin, but he was in. Partly, at least. The sofa was under the window and he lowered himself onto it, arms and chest, pulling one leg up under his stomach and sliding it through, scraping the skin, until his knee was on the sofa, kneeling on one leg and his arms, bending the other leg and pulling it through. If a passer-by saw him, they would phone the police. Please, he prayed. Someone see him. He was sprawled on the sofa, arms on the floor and legs over the back. Quietly he edged forward, straightening his arms and pulling his legs into a standing position then straightened up. Avoided looking at the little dog, sprawled out on a patch of dark red. He crept to the door and opened it a fraction, willing it not to make a noise. Voices. Quiet sobbing. Beth! At least that meant she was alive! He felt faint with relief; shook his head to clear it, legs trembling. Tried to peer through the door jamb but could only see the hall way. He pulled the door open a fraction more, positioning his body to peer round the doorway. Beth sat with her back to him, bound to a chair. He couldn’t see anyone else in the room but could hear a voice.

  Could hear Beth’s quiet sobs. Then a figure appeared, walking behind Beth. Frances. And with horror he saw the hammer in her hand.

  A firework seemed to explode in his head and he flew down the hall, lunging at Frances as she raised the hammer. He threw his weight against her and they crashed to the floor, Frances’s head cracking against the table leg, the hammer flying from her hand, spinning across the tiled floor, a loud bang as it came to rest on the skirting board. Tom lay on top of the woman, his weight pinning her down, his hand forcing her head onto the floor. He gasped, tried to suck air into his lungs. Beth was staring down at them, her eyes glazed. Tom pushed his weight down harder, pulling her arms behind her so they were under his chest. Her legs thrashed and he pressed harder with his knees to prevent her kicking and wriggling free. He needed to restrain her, tie her up. Looked around desperately and spotted Charlie’s lead on the worktop. With one hand round her wrists, he grabbed the lead with the other and pulled it down, then tied it round and round her wrists, binding them as tightly as he could. He knelt back on his feet, keeping his knees on her legs, and unbuckled his belt, pulling it off and wrapping it round her ankles. It was too big; she would wriggle out of it. He frantically unravelled it and tied it in a knot instead, and another knot, pulling it so tight she could never break free. Then he stood up, looking at the woman trussed up on the floor. She was screaming and swearing, throwing herself around the floor, smashing her body into the hard tiles. He stepped over her to the other side of Beth. She looked up at him, eyes sightless with terror, and he caught her as she fainted.

  “Beth, Beth” a voice was calling her name. She tried to open her eyes, opened them a bit more but couldn’t see anything, only blue. Tried to focus and realised the blue was material, soft cotton. “Beth, open your eyes, look at me.”

  She tried again, forced her eyes to stay open, moved her head carefully, searching for the voice. Tom, kneeling beside her, one arm wrapped tightly round her while the other held a phone to his ear. Was he talking to her or someone on the other end of the phone? “Now” he was saying. “Police and ambulance.” Closed her eyes again and drifted away against the warm soft cotton.

  Then the room was full of people. Carol, crying, calling her name. Ken’s deep voice. And other’s she didn’t recognise. Heavy feet, rustling, breathing. Now she was lying on the sofa and Carol was beside her, stroking her hair, saying she was alright. Images flashed into her head and she struggled to sit up. “Beth, wait, take it slowly.” Carol’s arm was round her as she straightened up and looked around her kitchen. No Frances. Where was she? But a big man dressed all in green was kneeling in front of her, saying her name, asking if she could hear him. Yes of course she could. What did he think? He was shouting in her ear. She couldn’t be bothered answering. Just looked at the figures shifting in her vision. Another figure in green moved to stand in front of her, blocking her view. It wasn’t a nice shade of green. Too dark. And it was creased, creased and crumpled. Why hadn’t he ironed it? The one kneeling was shining a torch in her eyes, holding her wrist, fixing something on her finger. Then a band wrapped around her arm, pumping up then collapsing. Carol was still crying.

  “Would you like some water?” the green man standing up was saying, leaning over, holding a glass of water to her lips. She drank thirstily, asked for more. More people in uniform, was it black or navy? Everyone was talking. Looking at her. Why? What had she done? Ken, standing talking to one of them. But Tom. Where was Tom? She didn’t want all these people, she wanted Tom.

  Carol was still beside her, holding the water now. Beth clutched at her “Carol, where’s Tom? I want Tom.” Her voice rose, anguished.

  And he was there. Pushing Carol and the green men aside as he fell on his knees in front of her and pulled her into his arms.

  Finally the kitchen cleared of uniforms. The paramedics left first, offering to take Beth to hospital but she had refused. They left with instructions to phone the local GP or the out of hour’s doctor to get some sedatives, but Beth didn’t want to take anything. The police had left, stating they would be back in the morning but would contact Tom first. Frances had been taken away; where to, Beth had no idea and didn’t care. Her first conscious thought had been Charlie and they had told her only that he had been hurt and the vet had taken him for the night. Ken had investigated as soon as he and Carol had arrived and had felt a faint pulse, phoning the vet to get there as soon as she could. The vet had been noncommittal, Charlie could pull through but it was a serious head wound. But Beth had been satisfied the little dog was alright and had calmed down. Now only Ken and Carol remained, sitting at the table while Tom sat on the sofa, his arm around Beth.

  “You’ll come back to ours for the night, Beth? asked Carol, hands still trembling as she nursed a glass of water.

  Before she could answer, Tom had shaken his head. “I’m taking her back to mine, Carol. But thanks. Could you drive us back though? Beth’s not up to walking.”

  “Of course.” Ken stood up.

  He locked the French doors and handed the keys to Tom while Carol rinsed the glasses.

  Tom helped Beth to her feet.

  “Come on. Let’s go.”

  They drove the hundred metres to Tom’s, he unlocked the front door and urged Beth through.

  “Upstairs for you. Bed and sleep, the best cure for shock.”

  Beth wearily climbed the stairs, Tom’s hand under her elbow. He nudged her into the bathroom. Opened the bathroom cabinet and took out a new toothbrush, handed it to her. Disappeared onto the landing and came back with a towel. “I’ll go and get your room ready. Don’t lock the door.” He left her and went into the spare bedroom, switching on the bedside lamp and turning the duvet down. Into his own bedroom to find a T shirt she could wear, then returned to sit on the spare bed and wait for her to come back in.

  Her face was still white but her eyes were more focussed.
She sat on the bed and he stood up, handing her the T shirt. “The best I can manage for a nightie. Now, do you need any help?”

  Beth shook her head. “No, thank you”. She kicked her sandals off and started to unbutton her blouse; but the little pearl buttons were fiddly and her hands were shaking.

  “Beth, let me help.” Tom hunkered down in front of her and gently began to undo them, sliding the blouse off her shoulders. She didn’t resist. He reached behind her and unfastened her bra, slipping the straps down and pulling it away. Picked up the T shirt and dropped it over her head, gently pulling her arms through, tugging it down over her stomach and hips. Then pulled her to her feet and felt under the T shirt for her skirt fastening, unclipping it and pulling it down to her feet. Finally scooped her up and lay her down on the bed, pulling the duvet over her.

  “Now, try and sleep. You’re safe. I’ll leave the doors open so just call me if you want me.”

  He clicked off the lamp. Her eyes were closed before he had even left the room.

  Tom poured himself a whisky and sat downstairs with it, stroking Tess. Felt himself slowly begin to unwind, the tension gradually seeping out of his body. Tess gazed up at him calmly, her eyes milky and gentle. Putting the glass in the sink, he patted the dog goodnight and went upstairs. Washed quickly and found a pair of pyjamas. He didn’t usually wear any but needed some tonight, in case he had to go into Beth, if she woke up, called out. Looked at the bed. His room was only across the landing but suppose he didn’t hear her? He needed to be closer.

  He picked up a pillow and switched the light off, walked out to the landing. The landing light was still on and he decided to leave it, didn’t want Beth waking up in pitch black. Crept through the doorway into the spare room.

  Beth lay fast asleep, curled up on her side, hair spread out on the pillow, breathing regular and even. He pulled the door to, leaving just a chink of light. Moved to the corner of the room and sat down in the armchair, pulling the dressing table stool towards him as a footrest, pushed the pillow behind his head and settled down, watching the sleeping figure until his eyelids became heavy, closed, and he slept.