by Stan Mason
‘Didn’t the police track down all those who had emigrated?’
‘Of course they did, but there were two couples they couldn’t find and I believe one of them was Ginger.’
‘You must have felt that you were skating on thin ice with regard to women after that, yet you still married again.’
‘That was because I met Roxy. Now she was really something. Black hair, black eyes, dark complexion ... and she was nearly eighteen. One month below the age of consent. She had a wiry figure with big breasts and boy did she know how to behave in bed! She was a master at intimate sex... or should I say a mistress! Born with the talent, I suppose. We met by sheer accident. I was delivering a car to someone in Aberystwyth in Wales but the man wasn’t at home when I got there. I knocked next door to find out when he would return and Roxy answered. We just stared at each other in awe for a few moments and I knew I had to make her my wife. We soon got married and I lived there with her mother and father for five months. It was absolutely wonderful and we were very happy. In fact, I got on very well with her parents. They were really good friends.’
‘What happened this time? Only I’m not going to believe that she disappeared off the face of the earth like the others.’ I took the opportunity to order him another double whisky which was shortly placed in front of him. Unfortunately, he seemed to be able to imbibe the spirit, swallowing it down in one go, without ostensibly getting drunk.
‘It was all very sad. She was poisoned. You see, she’d started taking drugs when she was at school. By the time I met her she was well on her way to being a drug-addict. Well she kept her drugs on a shelf in her father’s garden shed. One day, we found rats in the garden and her father bought a tin of warfarin. He put it on the same shelf in the shed where she kept her drugs. One evening, in the dim light, she mistook the tin of warfarin for the tin with her drugs and inhaled a large amount. Needless to say it killed her. We were all distraught after it happened. It was all so unnecessary.’
‘But you must have known she was a drug addict,’ I insisted.
‘Of course I did,’ he admitted. ‘But I didn’t know anything about the warfarin to kill the rats. I didn’t know she would take the stuff and kill herself, did I?’
I bought him another double whisky and he swallowed it whole again. By this time, with the generous amounts given by the bartender, he had to have imbibed over half a bottle of whisky but he sat unwaveringly on the bar stool.
‘What about your fifth wife? What happened to her?’
‘Ah,’ he said, showing the first sign of inebriation rocking forwards and backwards slightly, ‘that’s no mystery. After Roxy’s death, I moved from Wales and went to live in Cumbria. It didn’t really matter to me. I’m a good motor mechanic and there are garages all over the country. I went to a barn dance one night in the town and met Debbie there. She was older than me. Ten years older. But she was lovely to look at and besides being a lover she was also a mother to me. She’d been married before to some wimp and they didn’t have any children. When she met me, she found a real man, and she did everything she could to please me. Hey, how about another drink?’
I ordered a treble whisky this time which amounted to over a quarter of a pint and he swallowed it down as fast as he could. ‘I think we should leave this bar and sit down in the comfortable seats over there,’ I suggested, realising that he would fall off the stool shortly if we didn’t move. He complied quite readily, staggering all over the place until we got there. ‘Go on,’ I urged. You married Debbie.’
‘Ah, yes, Debbie,’ he slurred slowly. ‘She was like a lover and a mother to me. But there was this handsome milkman and she ran off to Scotland with him.’
‘So another of your wives went missing,’ I commented tiredly. ‘What did the police say about it this time?’
‘Oh, there was no police involvement,’ he told me, finishing off his drink quickly. ‘It was a simple case of her running off with the milkman. You see, she’d been divorced for six years and it was all my fault really. I was the one who awakened her sexuality. Once she’d experienced sex with me, it opened up her life again.’
His eyes were glazed and he began to fall asleep. I prodded him sharply to keep him awake which proved to be successful.
‘You murdered all your wives, didn’t you?’ I whispered. ‘You killed every one of them and did away with their bodies.’
He was too drunk by now to take offence but my dander was up. I felt indignant that he was a serial killer who had got away with blue murder for such a long time.
He leaned forward unsteadily and stared at me eye to eye. ‘Can I tell you something confidential?’ he managed to say.
‘We’re here on holiday and we don’t really know each other. Who else can would be interested in anything I had to tell?’
‘Promise you won’t say a word to anyone else. Not a soul!’
‘Hand on heart. Not a word to another soul.’
‘Well you put your finger right on the button. I did kill all my five wives. Every single one of them.’ He burst into a drunken laughter. ‘And I got away with it every time. You see the police first thought I was claiming life assurance on them but none of them ever had any. So when they learned that I gained nothing from their deaths they lowered their guard.’
‘Where did you hide the bodies?’ I asked seriously, becoming quite disgusted with the truth.
‘Wherever we lived. I buried them deep in a forest close to where we lived and covered up the graves with leaves so that it all looked normal. After a while the grass grew and no one could ever find out about them. Do you know,’ he went on, pointing his index finger at me unsteadily, ‘the police actually dug up my garden but of course they never found anything because the bodies weren’t there.’
‘And what about Roxy in Wales? How did she die?’
‘Ah, well she didn’t really make a mistake. You see, I put the warfarin into her drugs tin.’
I stared at him in disbelief although I should have realised that his nature was totally callous. ‘And Debbie didn’t run off with the milkman, did she?’ I ventured fearing the worst.
‘No, I had to kill both of them. I don’t know why but I get a tremendous urge every so often to strangle people. It gives me great pleasure to take them by the throat and squeeze the life out of them.’
I realised he was a psychopathic killer who would continue to murder other human-beings, especially women. For some strange reason, his greatest desire was to marry them before he strangled them to death. I took him by the lapel and half-carried him to the lift.
‘You won’t tell anyone, will you?’ he pleaded as the elevator carried us to his floor. He paused as the doors opened. ‘We’re not going to the pool, are we?’ he said, swaying forwards and backwards unsteadily.
‘No we’re not going to the pool,’ I replied calmly. ‘Why, don’t you want to go there?’
He stared at me in drunken surprise. ‘Of course not!’ he slurred with an element of anger in his voice. ‘I can’t swim. Not a bloody stroke. I’m hopeless in the water. Tell me we’re not going to the pool!’
He was almost frenetic and I laughed telling him not to concern himself about it. I took him to his room and Grace opened the door, laughing when she saw the state of her husband before taking him inside. As I went to my own room, I dwelt on the fact that she had only about a year to live before he decided to do away with her. I had to do something to stop the rot. But what could I do? And then after a while, with my head on the pillow, I found the solution.
I found him in the lounge the following morning after breakfast. He was alone and holding his head in his hands.
‘I’m sorry about last night,’ he said when he recognised me. ‘My mind’s a complete blank. You’ll have to discount anything I might have told you.’
‘What did you tell me?’ I asked cannily, not
wishing to give the game away that I knew his dark secret. ‘In any case,’ I went on, ‘I’d like you to come with me to Portoferraio this morning. There’s something I want to show you. Something I need to talk to you about. But you must come alone.’
He looked up at me, bleary-eyed, with a perplexed expression on his face. ‘Alone?’ he muttered softly.
‘Just tell Grace that you’re going to Portoferraio for a while. We’ll catch the ferry which goes at eleven fifteen.’
He shrugged his shoulders and I took that to be an acceptance. Indeed, I stepped on to the ferry at the appropriate time and a short while later I could see him saying his farewells to his darling new wife. He clambered on to the small vessel and stood at the bow waving to his beloved one as it left the shore. He sat beside me and we talked a little as the vessel made some headway. Eventually, I asked him to come to the stern of the ferry-boat. He complied and I had a good idea what I was going to do at that point if the opportunity arose. I didn’t have to wait long. Suddenly, two Italians began arguing loudly, almost coming to fisticuffs. When the attention of all the passengers was focussed forward, I took the opportunity to give Peck an almighty shove, enough to push him over the rear end of the vessel. I knew from his admission the night before that he couldn’t swim. The noise of the argument and the loud pounding of the engine blotted out his cries as he sank in the water. He went under once, twice, and then the third time without anyone noticing or calling out ‘Man overboard’. That was the last I ever saw of him. I had put an end to his criminal activities as a serial killer and I felt fully justified in doing so. When I took the last ferry of the day back to Naregno, Grace was sitting on the beach anxiously waiting for her husband.
‘Have you seen Sam?’ she asked as I came off the ferry. ‘He said he was going to Portoferraio with you.’
‘I think you’re mistaken,’ I lied to her. ‘I saw him on the ferry and... hold on a minute... I remember seeing him waiting for an earlier ferry to return here. He should have been back ages ago. I wonder what’s happen to him.’ She had no idea at that time she was a widow.
I continued to enjoy the rest of the holiday in peace and solitude. Naturally, the police were called about the missing Sam Peck but, as is usual in foreign countries... especially on Elba... the fate of tourists is only temporary. They all go back home after two weeks! And if they go missing, well it’s their own fault! And Grace? Well, although she was very sad at returning home to Britain on her own and felt desperate for a while because her loving husband was never found, she had no idea that I had actually saved her life... and the lives of many other women who would have been married to Sam Peck at some time in the future. Sometimes it’s necessary to carry out justice on one’s own... whatever the consequences!
Gorilla
The first performance of the circus show was about to begin. It would soon be in full swing. All the star acts were ready, as were the animals, and the band dressed in smart uniforms started to play a resounding march in full blast. It was going to be a stunning show because the audience had bought every seat in the house. At the first cacophony of sound, clowns dressed in comical colourful costumes ran into the ring, tumbling over and over, as they tagged onto a small motor vehicle driven haphazardly to and fro by one of their number. They lost their trousers, threw custard pies at each other, blew kisses to the audience, and threw streamers at them as they continued their antics to amuse the crowd. Their act was followed by a rider and his female assistant undertaking numerous acrobatics on horseback which involved jumping from one animal to another as they cantered time after time around the inside of the tent. When they had finished, five elephants made their entry in fine style to perform some breathtaking tricks such as treading on a man’s head with their hoofs and then standing on their hind legs with their trunks in the air, trumpeting so loudly that everyone was forced to cover their ears with their hands. When the act came to an end, seven acrobats emerged to perform athletic tricks which included standing on each other’s shoulders, using a propelling machine to achieve this aim with incredible accuracy. They were followed by a juggler who began his act by catching wooden clubs, ending with brands of flaming fire which he tossed into the air with repeated regularity, only to catch them before they fell to the ground. Back came the clowns for another session causing great amusement among the audience. However, the most important act... the one which everyone had been waiting for... had yet to come. The mainstay of the circus was a large gorilla, nick-named Prince Kong, who was so intelligent that he was able to cross the ring eighty feet up on a tight-rope. Over the past six months, he had become the crowning glory... the highlight of the show... and, in fact, all the public relations issued by the circus was based around him. For this reason, the circus was always full which meant that it had become extremely profitable. People booked months in advance to see the animal perform and the reputation of the circus had come to rest on Prince Kong. Eventually, after the introduction by the ring-master and a loud fanfare by the band, the gorilla appeared in the ring held by a steel chain attached to a leather collar around its neck. It glared fiercely at the audience which chilled the blood in every viewer before it was led to a rope ladder at the side of the ring. Slowly, it climbed the rungs until it reached the top. The band stopped playing as the drummer began a long drum-roll and then the animal moved slowly forward on to the tight-rope. Necks craned and went taut as everyone looked up at it holding their breath as the gorilla stepped slowly across the ring at a great height with no safety net. ‘Imagine,’ one could almost hear them saying to themselves. ‘A gorilla walking by itself across the ring on a tight-rope!’ In due course, it reached the other side and the band started up again breaking into a loud popular march. The animal had performed well and had done its duty. Once more, the audience were extremely satisfied with the show and they stayed to watch it for another hour. Then they left the tent and went home laughing and joking about the acts with especial mention of the gorilla on the tight-rope.
It seemed that the future of the circus was well assured. Bookings remained at an extremely high level, money was rolling in, costs were held in check, and the circus stayed longer in each town because of its popularity. Patrick O’Brian, the owner, had been with the circus since he was born. It had been formally established nearly eighty years ago by his grandfather who had passed it down to his parents on his retirement. They kept it in the family,eventually passing it on to their son as the sole beneficiary. Yet even though, over the years, it had played to thousands of people across Europe, it had never been the attraction it was now. However, all good things like bad things come to an end and, one fateful morning, calamity struck the circus with full force. When Prince Kong’s keeper went to the cage to feed the animal, he found it laying on its back cold and stiff. Filled with alarm, he ran to O’Brien’s caravan, knocking loudly on the door shouting as he did so.
‘Boss, boss!’ he called out urgently. ‘I’ve just been to Prince Kong’s cage. I think the gorilla’s gone.’
‘Don’t be stupid,’ chided the owner gruffly on opening the door. ‘Where can he go? His cage is specially constructed in stressed steel. He’s going nowhere.’
‘You don’t understand,’ continued the unhappy keeper. ‘He’s laying on his back, cold and stiff. I think he’s dead.’
A wave of despair and dismay swept through every member of the circus within earshot. Their golden goose had laid its last wonderful egg.
‘It can’t be!’ wailed O’Brien grimly. ‘I don’t believe it!’
A host of circus people raced to the gorilla’s cage to evidence that the keeper was speaking the truth. The animal had in fact passed to another world during the night.
‘Council!’ shouted the owner quickly. ‘Get everyone on the council to come to my caravan immediately! We’ve an emergency on our hands. This circus won’t survive without the animal!’
Ten minutes later, five senior members
of the circus sat in the owner’s caravan with their minds racing to find a solution to their problem. Without the gorilla the circus would lose most of its attraction and all the bookings would fly out of the window. These days, with the advent of television, the use of the internet, and the increase of audiences at cinemas, it was hard enough for anyone in the circus world to make a living let alone a reasonable profit. It was pretty obvious that all the hard work and aspirations of O’Brien’s circus would soon drift into negativity and ultimate disaster.
‘Without the gorilla, this circus is dead,’ he declared solemnly to the council. ‘We’ve got to do something about it. The question is what do we do?’
‘It’s an impossible task,’ returned the juggler weakly.
‘Well that’s why I called for a council meeting,’ stated O’Brien angrily in a loud voice. ‘But I don’t want to hear comments like that. In my mind, six heads are better than one even if they’re sheep’s heads. Think of something fast!’
‘There’s no chance of finding another gorilla who can walk the tight-rope, I suppose,’ ventured eldest clowns.
‘Don’t be daft!’ scoffed the elephant-trainer. ‘He was one in a million. There’s no way we could find another like him!’
‘Not even if we found another one and managed to train him quickly?’ hypothesized the juggler wryly.
‘There’s no chance of that. In any case, we haven’t the time to do it,’ cut in the horse-rider, his mind racing at a rate of knots. ‘But we could substitute him.’
‘Substitute him?’ demanded O’Brien, hoping for a miracle to happen to resolve the problem. ‘How?’
‘We have a couple of large gorilla’s skins stored away in wardrobe. Why don’t we dress someone up in one of them and get them to take his part. The audience will never catch on. They’ll think it’s the real thing. After all, a lot of them believe we’re fooling them by pretending to use a real gorilla now... but they go along with it.’