Perfect Murder

by Rebecca Bradley

  ‘I love you, Beth,’ I said.

  She looked me in the eye and a small smile played on her lips. We had started. Two down, plenty more to go. We were actually doing this. I returned her smile. I was with her every step of the way.

  ‘I love you too, my sweet girl.’

  I shook out another couple and passed them to her. She swallowed them, it was stiff and difficult and now she had officially taken an overdose. More than she was supposed to take. I looked at the table. We had a long way to go, I didn’t know how we were going to do this if she was finding it hard already.

  It was slow going. Beth was tired swallowing. We had to take breaks. During these breaks I picked up the book I was reading her and carried on from where we left off. Her eyes became heavy and I roused her.

  ‘Beth, remember what we’re doing? Do you want to carry on? Do you want me to call you an ambulance? We’re in a weird place with your dose, I can’t promise it’s enough.’

  Her eyelids flew open.

  ‘We keep going, Alice. We finish it. Promise me you keep waking me and keep giving me more. Promise me?’

  The band around my chest tightened. I could barely breathe. We were so close and she wanted me to push her over the edge.

  ‘I promise.’

  I handed her some more pills and she very gently placed them on her tongue. She was flagging. I picked up her water beaker and gave it to her. She couldn’t get the pills down, she gagged, her eyes bulged and her face reddened. I walked around the table and tapped her back. She spat them back out into my hand. It was getting harder for her to keep going.

  It was hard for both of us to keep going.

  It was time for us to try the other way.

  I grabbed my bag and pulled out the pestle and mortar and placed it on the table. Then I went into the kitchen and grabbed a couple of yogurts out of the fridge. I walked back into the room with them. Beth opened her eyes that had again drooped closed.

  ‘That’ll be easier. Thank you.’

  I nodded and dropped the remainder of the pills into the mortar and used the pestle to grind them into a powder or as close to a powder as I could. I tipped that into the yogurt pots and stirred. Then I sat beside Beth, pot and spoon in my hands.

  ‘You ready?’ I asked.

  ‘I’m ready, Alice. Thank you.’

  She opened her mouth and I fed her like a young child. This was so much easier. It didn’t take long to get plenty more pills down her.

  I looked at the empty bottles and strip packs. Had she taken enough yet? She sagged on the bed. She’d had enough. She looked exhausted.

  I hated what we were doing. I wanted to stop. To take it all back. Go back to our evenings together, reading, watching Midsomer Murders, because we loved it, not to say goodbye. This was too difficult. I hadn’t expected it to be easy, but this was beyond how hard I’d thought it would be.

  My own chest hurt and my breath caught in my throat. I coughed as Beth swallowed down the last mouthful of yogurt I had given her.

  ‘Hey, it’s me downing all these pills, you know,’ she said with a lazy look on her face.

  I pushed the table away from us.

  ‘I think that’s enough. We can watch Midsomer Murders now and relax. What do you think?’

  ‘I think that sounds nice.’

  I climbed up on the bed and snuggled up to her and wrapped my arm around her so she was leaning into me. With the remote I switched the next episode on and the lyrical music twisted its way into the room. Beth’s eyes lit up and a warm glow of love engulfed me.

  The small country town was once again hit by another light-hearted murder and we were off.

  ‘I think it’s the woman in the big hat,’ said Beth as she slipped deeper into my arm.

  ‘I think it’s the small guy with the pigs,’ I disagreed with her. I knew that below me, in the crook of my arm she would be smiling.

  As the programme progressed Beth became heavier. She had slipped into sleep. I was watching the programme alone and I could see she was still breathing. My vision was switching between looking at the television, though I was no longer taking it in, and watching Beth’s chest rise and fall.

  Her breathing slowed. I pulled her tighter to me. She didn’t flinch. She was deep in slumber now.

  ‘I love you, Beth,’ I said, afraid I had not told her earlier in the night. ‘Please know how much I love you. I love you with all my heart. And you’re right, I will carry you with me everywhere I go. You will never leave me. You are imprinted on me. There’s no way to get rid of you now.’

  A tear slid down my cheek. I could let go now, she was never going to know. She would not wake up and tell me off. She would not know I hadn’t been strong until the end.

  Her breath started to rattle in her throat. This was the end. I took hold of her hand in mine. It was limp and soft. I leant down and kissed the top of her head. The smell of shampoo filled my nostrils. A couple of strands of hair tickled the inside of my nose and I rubbed my face onto her head to stop the tickle.

  ‘I love you,’ I whispered again.

  They say hearing is the last thing to go so as long as she had a last breath in her body I would tell her she meant the world to me. I was here to support her in her transition from this life.

  Then it was over. As I watched her breaths I waited and the next one didn’t come. I waited and I waited and I finally admitted to myself that it was over. There would be no more breaths. I pulled Beth into me and I leaned down into her and I let out all the emotion I had been holding in all evening. All the tears, they tumbled out in a torrent of despair. I sobbed and I sobbed and I sobbed some more. I shook with grief, with loss, with pain.

  Beth had gone. I wouldn’t be visiting her anymore. The only person I loved in the world was gone. I had no idea what to do with myself. The world had ended.

  I looked at the bottles on the table at the side of us and realised what we had done here this evening. Realised that I needed to leave Beth so that her carers could find her in the morning.

  I slid off the bed and laid Beth down onto her pillows. I kept the covers halfway off her as though she’d been leaning forward taking the tablets. I pushed the table up over the bed and right up to where Beth would be able to reach. Even if I admitted to putting the tablets on the table, within her reach, so long as she took them herself once I left, I couldn’t get into any trouble. I knew I’d have to admit to that because her carers would say she couldn’t get to the kitchen to get them herself.

  I leaned down and kissed her cheek. I kissed her for one last time and I walked out of the room. I had done as Beth had wanted me to do. Now I had to hope we could, or should I say, hope that I could, get away with what we had done.

  I picked up my bag and I walked out of the house, locking it behind me for the very last time.

  51

  I walked down Beth’s pathway to my car, my heart breaking and I didn’t know how to handle it. The pain in my chest was overwhelming. I had done the right thing for the woman I loved. I had released her from her life of pain and suffering but in doing so I had caused myself irreparable damage. I was broken.

  I climbed into the car and collapsed onto the steering wheel. Great wracking sobs escaped me, heaving out of my body in waves. I couldn’t control it. I needed to move away rather than be seen here but I was helpless to the need for my body to release the pain it was in. I was ravaged by distress. I had no idea which way was up anymore. It was as though I’d been thrown in a tumble dryer and was left on a spin cycle. I was dizzy, dazed, incoherent.

  I needed Beth to soothe me, to tell me everything would be alright in the end. That this was all for the best and it would work out. But Beth was gone.

  A primal scream came up from deep within me and escaped into the car.

  What had I done?

  I had killed my best friend.

  My family.

  The woman I loved.

  She was gone and it was permanent. There was no taking this bac
k. I hammered on the steering wheel. I raged against the unfairness of the whole situation. That I’d been forced into what I had done. That I had killed her and it had been because I loved her.

  It was the very definition of unfair.

  If I loved her I should have been able to save her from her pain and suffering but without having to lose her.

  I raged some more into the silence of the car. Slammed my fists onto the steering wheel again until the heel of my fists started to redden and my chest and throat ached.

  If I killed for love tonight then I would go out and do it again, but this time it wouldn’t cause me this amount of pain, and it might even alleviate some of it.

  Hashim needed some help. I could help him. He’d given me his address not long after the accident and he’d also told me which neighbour it was that caused him the problems. If what Hashim said was true he’d still be awake at this hour. I could pay him a visit and let him know how upset with him his neighbours were.

  I turned the car on, wiped my face, which was puffed up and out of shape, with my sleeve. I pulled away from the kerb and headed home. I needed a change of clothes. I would do this because it was going to help me. It would take some of my pain away.

  52

  For some reason my own home felt barren when I walked in. It wasn’t as though Beth spent time here, but there was a real sense of loss within. As though it had lost its soul. Maybe it was me and I was carrying it around with me and it wasn’t the house at all.

  Lilac was nowhere to be seen. Maybe she knew what I had done and was disgusted in me. I didn’t want to see the look on her face anyway so it was better she wasn’t here. I’d deal with her tomorrow or whenever she chose to show herself.

  In the bedroom I changed into the other set of black clothing and cheap underwear I had bought. I didn’t have another set of cheap trainers so I’d have to wear my ordinary trainers and ditch them and buy myself a new pair. I needed to do this to soothe my soul, so needs must.

  I selected a knife from the knife block. Something else I hadn’t prepared for. I looked at it in my hand. Considered the risk I was taking using one from my own home. The risk of fingerprints. DNA stuffed in the hilt. So long as I brought it away with me I should be safe enough. My need to go out and do this was overpowering any need to prepare for it and be safe. I had to go out and wipe from my mind what I had already done and put a new memory there. Not that I could wipe Beth from my mind, but the horror of what I had done with her tonight, that was what I wanted to remove. It was seared into my brain and it was torturing me. I wanted it out. I wanted to take a blade and cut it out myself. But because I couldn’t I would happily take a blade and cut someone else and in that experience hopefully cut out the memory of tonight’s events.

  Once I was happy I had everything I needed, I left the house. It was late. My neighbours’ homes were all in darkness. I checked the Google maps once I was in the car for Hashim’s street and drove over there. I parked a couple of streets away. I didn’t want any of the neighbours to tell the police there had been a car parked outside at the time of the murder and neither did I want Hashim to recognise that vehicle and know it was me. I don’t think I could bear it if he looked at me differently. I was doing this for him. To have it backfire on me would just… well, my night had been awful enough, I couldn’t imagine it getting any worse.

  I hadn’t planned out this murder. I parked the car and stared out of the windscreen. Every other one I had done I had planned meticulously. I knew what to expect and what I was going to do. I was going in unprepared this time. That was when things went wrong. I knew he was a divorcee so he would be alone in the house, though he had been known to have people over. I would check that out before I took any action. I wasn’t stupid. Though my actions so far, coming here unprepared, might say otherwise. I knew he would be playing loud music, which was something in my favour. It would cover any noise that might occur while I was committing my, oh sod it, while I was killing him. I think it’s about time I stop dilly-dallying around with the words now, don’t you? I’d killed enough people. I was going in there and I was going to kill him. I was going to use my knife and I would kill him.

  I climbed out of the car. The air was fresh at this time of night. I liked it at night when the air cooled down a little. You could breathe. It was light and airy. We’d been having a warm summer so far and there was little in the way of air about. This, in the middle of the night, it was refreshing. I walked the couple of streets to the house I needed. Anticipation driving me forward.

  Hashim was right. There were lights on. In fact it looked like Blackpool Illuminations. But luckily the curtains were all closed.

  Hashim’s house was in total darkness as was most of the homes on the rest of the street. One house a few houses down had a light on. Something small like a bedside light. It was a dim glow. Someone reading, or struggling to sleep. I wasn’t too worried. So long as I went in, did what I needed to do and came out again quietly there shouldn’t be any problems.

  But how would I play it? I needed to get on with it. I couldn’t stand on the street staring at the house for much longer. There was a sickness in my stomach. I didn’t know if it was nerves or if I was still upset over Beth. Yes, I was still upset, but coming straight out to kill had distracted my mind as I hoped it would.

  I walked up to the door and knocked. I could hear the music from outside. It was something heavy and dark with a deep base. No wonder Hashim and the neighbours were stressed by it. Especially the woman with the baby.

  Oh, the woman with the baby. I needed to be careful of that house. They could be awake at any time.

  I knocked again, this time harder to make him hear me. I couldn’t hear voices, which was a good thing. It seemed, from the outside, that he was alone. But I wouldn’t know for sure until I was inside.

  There was no reply. I tried the door handle. It moved in my hand, giving under the pressure. I pushed gently, not wanting to startle anyone. Then I pushed inwards on the door and it too moved. The door was unlocked. At this time of night, with his music blaring, his house was insecure, which was lucky for me.

  I crept in. The hallway light was on. There was no place for me to hide. If he walked in now he’d see me. I closed the door and stood for a moment with my back to the door listening for any sound of voices, if the man was alone or if he had visitors. I wondered where in the house he was. There was no way to tell with all the lights being on. He could walk into the hall and see me standing here and we could go from here. Or I would have to go looking for him. I gripped the knife handle in my hand, palming it up towards the inside of my arm so he wouldn’t see it on first look at me.

  There was no sound of people in the house. The impression was that this man was alone.

  Which way did I go first? Did I walk into the house downstairs or head upstairs? The music was coming from downstairs to my left where I presumed the living room was. It didn’t mean he was in there. He could have turned it on and turned it up loud so he could hear it anywhere in the house. I decided I would start upstairs. I didn’t want to go into the living room and be surprised by someone coming in from one of the upstairs rooms.

  I crept up the stairs as quietly as I could. It was difficult to determine if I was doing a decent job of this because of the level of the music blaring through the house. The base was beating through my chest and made me nervous. The beat was throbbing and was having a physical effect on me. Like anxiety. I didn’t like it. The sooner I could turn it off the better. It was no wonder Hashim had complained about him. I was glad I could do this for him, even if he never knew it was me who committed it.

  The top of the landing was also well lit. The music was still loud but not as vibrational. I put my free hand onto my chest. The throbbing had done a job on me and I wanted a second to calm down. I sucked in a deep breath and levelled myself.

  There were four doors, one I presumed to be the bathroom and three bedrooms. One was ajar and I could see the bath. I poked m
y head around the door and saw the room was empty. Three more rooms to check. I still didn’t have a plan. Yes, I had a blade in my hand but no idea how I was going to use it. The last time I used a blade I knew exactly where I was going to stick it and what the effect would be. Tonight I had come out without doing any research beforehand. All I knew tonight was that a blade would kill him if I stuck it in deep enough or enough times. I would either have to do one or the other. I hoped he was not an overweight male because killing him might become more difficult if his fat protected him.

  I approached another door. It was closed. They were all closed. I had to be ready. I steadied myself again. I could do this. I picked the next door along from the bathroom and pressed down on the handle and opened it as quietly as I could.

  I put my head around the door and saw a spare room. There was a bed, an ironing board up against the wall and piles and piles of clothes on the bed that I presumed were in need of ironing. He wasn’t in here.

  Next room. Again I pressed the handle and pushed open the door. The music was still thumping from downstairs. I had no idea how quiet or loud I was being, but quiet enough for the music to mask my entrance. This room contained a large wardrobe that went from one wall to the next wall. One of the wardrobe doors was open and I could see empty rails with hangers dangling from them. There was a dressing table under the window. A mirror with swirls around the edges and a couple of women’s perfumes on the table top. This looked like it had been, in a past life, some kind of dressing room that had been set up for this man’s wife.

  The final bedroom door loomed in front of me. The music still booming from below me, beating a thrum in my chest. Exaggerating my nerves.

  The knife handle was starting to get slippery in my grasp. I wiped it down on my jogging bottoms and wiped my hand down too then re-gripped it.

  I took the door handle in my hand and pushed, and this time my movements were surer, more determined. If he were in this room I would deal with him immediately, I would not give him time to think, to consider his options or to fight back.