‘She was dying,’ I said. ‘The MS was killing her. I’d been there when she’d choked on her food.’
I looked at the cops in the eyes.
‘Have you ever seen an adult choke on something they shouldn’t really choke on? Have you ever had to give an adult their tea in a plastic mug with a straw in case they choke on a drink? She didn’t want to die that way, it scared her more than anything. She wanted to go her own way, on her own terms, and she asked me to help her by putting the tablets where she could reach them. I didn’t do anything else.’
‘How long were you there?’
I had to account for the fact that Beth’s neighbours would have seen my car there for hours.
‘I stayed several hours. We wanted to say goodbye before she did it. We watched some television together and she didn’t do anything until after I left.’
‘What time was that?’
I knew that after the post-mortem they would have a time of death. Damn. That and my car being present. This wasn’t looking good for me.
‘I don’t know. I was so upset I can’t say I looked at the clock. I can’t help you with that.’
They’d have to work hard for their conviction if they wanted one. But I was there when she died and that could be proved.
Thomas had been pleasant up until this point but now she shuffled the paperwork she had in front of her, found what she was looking for, read it and then directed her gaze at me.
‘How do you account for the fact that your fingerprints were found inside the bottles of pills?’
59
I was put before the magistrates court the next but one day. I had been charged with the murder of Beth Casterton. I needed a solicitor for this stage and was allocated a duty solicitor. He was an old man with a head of white hair and a walking stick, though he looked fairly agile. He told me his name was Henry Bell. He reminded me a lot of Hashim with his kindly face and nice smile.
‘You’re in a bit of a pickle, young lady,’ he said as he pulled his paperwork out of his briefcase.
I stayed silent; there was nothing I needed to say to that statement. I knew exactly what kind of state I had got myself into.
He pushed a piece of paper in front of me. ‘Sign here to say you’re happy for me to represent you.’
I took the pen from him and scribbled my name.
‘Good, good. Today is just procedure. We’ll try and get you bail and because it’s a crime of love it’s possible you’ll get bail until your next court date.’
The three magistrates on the bench looked down their noses at me as the charge was read out. They were all of an upper-class standing. All giving an air of concern that this person before them should take the law into their own hands and do such a thing. The woman in the middle looked saddened though and I didn’t know who she was sad for, me or Beth, and why? Most people nowadays know someone who has suffered very poor health and has felt that crippling feeling of uselessness. Was that what she was recognising?
The CPS solicitor talked and then Henry spoke in my defence, giving reasons for why I should be allowed bail.
The magistrates conferred, the female in the middle kept looking at me as she spoke to her colleagues and they released me until my next court date. I hugged Henry tightly, thrilled to be going home, if only for a short period of time. He blushed up to his white old roots.
And that’s me. I sit at home now the night before my sentencing knowing that this diary is coming to an end. I was found guilty of the manslaughter of Beth. I’m going to spend many years in prison. I don’t know if I can take this diary into prison with me but I can’t allow anyone to read this anyway. Ironically I have gotten away with three perfect murders but I’m going to spend years behind bars for helping Beth in her time of need. So if you are a crime writer, or even a crime fiction fan who has ever wondered what it would be like to commit the perfect murder or if it could be done, know that it can. I have proved that for you. It’s when you get too close, when it’s someone you know that you get caught. It always is. But a stranger murder, that’s entirely possible. I’m proud of what I achieved. I’m also proud of how I helped Beth. I don’t regret any of it.
Time is spreading out in front of me and the contents of this diary have given me plenty of material to use to write future books while I’m away. No one needs to know they’re based on real events. I can continue my fiction career knowing what can and can’t be achieved. How many crime writers can say that? It’s a unique position to be in.
Hashim has offered to take Lilac for me. I know she will be well cared for. He is a good man and didn’t look at me in distaste when he found out what I had done. He simply hugged me close and offered to take my cat. I probably won’t see her again. The two I was scared to lose, Beth and Lilac, are now lost to me.
I approach my sentence with a calm I didn’t know I had. I think I’m prepared for the difficult life that a prison offers.
Thank you for reading this and goodbye for now.
Books in the DI Hannah Robbins series;
Three Weeks Dead (Prequel novella)
Shallow Waters
Made to be Broken
Fighting Monsters
The Twisted Web
Kill For Me
Other books by Rebecca Bradley;
Dead Blind
About the Author
Rebecca Bradley is a retired police detective who lives in the UK with her family and two Cockapoo’s Alfie and Lola, who keep her company while she writes. She needs to drink copious amounts of tea to function throughout the day and if she could, she would survive on a diet of tea and cake.
If you enjoyed Perfect Murder and would be happy to leave a review online that would be much appreciated, as word of mouth is often how other readers find new books.
To claim your FREE Novella click the link - Three Weeks Dead, a short novella where a young DC, Sally Poynter, has to get through to a desperate husband before he commits a crime that will have far-reaching consequences. You can view that HERE.
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Acknowledgments
A novel is of course written by the author, but it isn’t written in isolation. The finished product has been through several pairs of hands. It has required help and support, and it is here, on this page, where I will thank those who have helped me get Perfect Murder through the finishing line.
I want to thank Merilyn Davies for her very kind and generous help with Alice and Beth’s life with multiple sclerosis. It’s a terribly debilitating disease and I wanted to do it and the people involved justice. Any and all mistakes are mine alone.
I want to thank Hannah Weatherill for her continued support in all that I do.
Julia Gibbs for copy-editing and proofing prowess and Anne O’Hara for the final eyes she always provides me.
To my launch team who read an early copy to support the launch of the book, thank you. And to all readers who pick up a copy and spend time with the characters, I can’t thank you enough.
Finally, my family who give me space to write as I need it and comfort when I’m overtired and needy. I love you all so much.
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