An Unnecessary Murder

by P. F. Ford

  An Unnecessary Murder

  by

  P.F. Ford

  Cover Design by Angie Zambrano

  Edited by KT Editing Services

  © 2013 P.F. Ford

  All rights reserved

  This is a work of fiction. All characters, places and events in this book are either a product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to real life counterparts is purely coincidental.

  Contents

  Chapter One

  Chapter Two

  Chapter Three

  Chapter Four

  Chapter Five

  Chapter Six

  Chapter Seven

  Chapter Eight

  Chapter Nine

  Chapter Ten

  Chapter Eleven

  Chapter Twelve

  Chapter Thirteen

  Chapter Fourteen

  Chapter Fifteen

  Chapter Sixteen

  Chapter Seventeen

  Chapter Eighteen

  Chapter Nineteen

  Chapter One

  ‘How are you today then?’ I said, patting his hand. ‘You’ve been out of it for a couple of weeks now, so I figured it might be a good idea to bring you up to speed with everything that’s been going on.’

  I paused for a moment, wondering where to start. The hum of machinery was punctuated by the hiss and click of the respirator controlling his breathing. It was over two weeks since I had found my old friend Dry Biro stretched out on his kitchen floor, having apparently suffered a heart attack. My friend Positive Pete and I were the nearest he had to a family, so we were taking it in turns to visit.

  It was now my regular morning routine to come and sit with him for an hour or two. Pete did the same in the early afternoon, and I sometimes came back in the evenings too. We had tried all sorts of things to get a response from the comatose body, but so far there had been nothing.

  ‘Now, let me see,’ I began. ‘You remember Tommy Nash, the guy we caught? Well, he’s been formally charged with murder. Then there’s his son, the detective inspector, Nasty Nash. Did I tell you he had been allowed back to work? Apparently they couldn’t find enough evidence to prove he was bent. It seems they’ve made an allowance for him being affected by what we found out about his dad. Sounds like a cover-up to me, but there you go.’

  I paused for a mouthful of coffee. As I gazed through the window at the corridor outside, a face appeared going from right to left along the corridor. It was Rose, the old man’s nurse. She gave me a cheery smile and a little wave as she passed by. I wondered at the almost heroic ability of nurses to remain cheerful in spite of all they have to deal with.

  ‘Now, where was I? Oh yes, Nasty Nash back at work. I suppose I’ll have to start watching my back again.’

  We had recently discovered Nasty Nash’s father, former Detective Inspector Tommy Nash, had covered up one murder and then committed one of his own, some thirty years ago. Needless to say, Nasty was none too pleased that we had ruined his father’s reputation and the word was he was unlikely to forgive us anytime soon.

  ‘And you don’t need to worry about Betty,’ I went on. ‘She’s being looked after by Daphne. Her dog seems to love having Betty around. They’re getting on like a house on fire.’

  Betty was DB’s basset hound. When he had been rushed to hospital, we didn’t really know what to do with her. I would have been happy to take her, and so would Positive Pete, but she was used to having someone around most of the time and we couldn’t guarantee that. But then Daphne, whose little boy had been one of the murder victims all those years ago, had volunteered to take Betty, and the problem was solved.

  ‘Did I tell you about the funeral? I probably did, but I’ll tell you again anyway. It was just perfect – you would have loved it. And now it’s all settled Daphne seems to have a new lease of life. She thinks it’s brilliant that you were able to solve the puzzle after all these years.’

  It had been a team effort really, but DB had been the one with all the background information that had set us on the way to solving the crime.

  ‘And here’s some news you definitely don’t know. Positive Pete and Daphne seem to be seeing a lot of each other since the funeral. He says he’s going up to her house to see Betty, but I know Daphne’s cooked dinner for him nearly every night. How about that? Yet another good thing that’s come about as a result of our investigations.’

  And so it went on for the best part of an hour; me talking and him listening. Well, I hoped he was listening. And everything was punctuated by the monotonous hiss, click, hiss, click.

  I always felt a sense of relief, and an equal sense of guilt, whenever I left the hospital. It was a relief because I hate hospitals, and the guilt was because I always felt as though I was abandoning my old friend. But what can you do? He was in a coma and I couldn’t spend twenty-four hours a day in there. Even if I did, it was unlikely to make any difference to the poor old guy’s recovery.

  Positive Pete was the best friend I ever had. Ten years older than me, we probably would never have met at all if we hadn’t become brothers-in-law by marrying sisters. Sadly, they were the wrong sisters for us and we were both now single again. Not that either of us felt sad about the situation – we were both happy to have escaped from being unhappy. It had been an experience we both would have preferred to have avoided, but it was a mistake we intended not to repeat.

  As a retired writer, DB had become my mentor – I wanted to be a writer – and as our friendship grew, so Pete had got know him. He was as fond of the old guy as I was, which is why he was happy to be a regular visitor to the hospital.

  Later that day, it was Pete’s turn to visit DB.

  ‘I know Alfie’s been catching you up with all the news, but I bet he didn’t mention about him and Sophia.’

  Pete knew a reply wasn’t coming, but he paused for it anyway before continuing.

  ‘You know how much he likes Sophia, right? And you know she invited him to dinner, and Jelena came home and caught them fast asleep on the settee? And then she helped him sort his flat out. Well, you would have thought they would be seeing each other more often now, wouldn’t you?’

  Another pause. Click, hiss, click, hiss.

  ‘But Jelena tells me the opposite seems to have happened. It’s as if Alfie thinks Sophia doesn’t want to see him, and now Sophia thinks he’s avoiding her. It sounds like a complete mess. Jelena’s going spare. She tried so hard to encourage them to get together and now they’re keeping away from each other.

  ‘But you know what Alfie’s like with women – he always thinks he’s just not good enough. He needs someone like you to give him a good talking to. So now would be quite a good time for you to wake up really. Maybe you could talk some sense into him.’

  Pete watched the old man hopefully – he wasn’t called Positive Pete for nothing – but the old man remained inert. After five more minutes, Pete looked at his watch.

  ‘I’ve got to go now,’ he explained. ‘I’m off to Daphne’s to walk the dogs. Betty’s loving it up there. I know you’ll be worrying about her, but trust me, she’s in good hands.’

  He took the old man’s hand. ‘I’ll be up again tomorrow I expect.’

  An uncomfortable sadness came over him as he walked through the hospital, but then, as he neared his car, the sadness faded to be replaced by a sense of happy anticipation.

  On the day DB had suffered his heart attack, Pete and Alfie had been at the funeral of Daphne Younger’s son, Simon. Simon had been murdered thirty years ago, but it was only because of the combined efforts of DB, Pete, and Alfie that his killer had been identified.

  Pete and Alfie had escorted Daphne to the funeral, but when DB had failed to arrive, Alfi
e had gone to see what had happened to him, leaving Pete to look after Daphne and take her home. He had been Daphne’s rock that day.

  With DB in hospital, they could have had a big problem with his dog, Betty basset, but Daphne had volunteered to have her and the problem was solved. Betty seemed to love being with Daphne and her dog Cissie, and they seemed to love being with Betty.

  Now, under the pretext of helping to walk the dogs, Pete had been making the daily journey up to see Daphne. That’s where he was going now, and that’s why he was feeling the happy anticipation.

  Chapter Two

  They had just finished dinner. Another culinary triumph from Daphne meant a very satisfied Pete once again. He had never really mastered the art of cooking, so for the eight years he had lived on his own, he had made do with ready meals, takeaways, and his own, often disastrous, burnt offerings. Being fed by Daphne every evening was this hungry man’s heaven.

  He told himself it was only right that as she had been prepared to temporarily house Betty basset, he should visit every afternoon to help walk the two dogs. In return, Daphne told herself it was only right that she should cook dinner for him for helping out with the dog walking.

  The reality, of course, was that two lonely people had each found someone they enjoyed being with, plain and simple.

  ‘Err, I wonder if you could help me with something,’ said Daphne nervously.

  ‘Of course, I can,’ said Pete. ‘Just name it.’

  ‘It’s a bit embarrassing,’ she began. ‘I’m not sure where to start.’

  She was standing before the kitchen sink, resplendent in a huge apron and up to her elbows in rubber gloves doing the washing up. Pete stood dutifully to her left with a tea towel. He might not be able to cook, but he had long ago mastered the art of drying up.

  ‘I usually find it’s best to start at the beginning,’ he assured her. ‘That way we both know where we are.’

  She smiled. It was so good to have someone else around the house – she had been on her own far too long. Now her troubles were resolved, she was hoping she could finally look forward and start to enjoy life again. She felt she could do a lot worse than enjoy it with this kind man with his seemingly unlimited patience and understanding.

  ‘Well,’ she began. ‘I’m sure you know I turned to the bottle when I was at my lowest.’

  He patted her gently on the shoulder. ‘We all need a prop sometimes. I had a close friend called Jack Daniels a few years back. You don’t need to be embarrassed about that.’

  He picked up a plate and began drying it. ‘Anyway, unless you’re getting smashed every night after I’ve gone home, you don’t seem to have a problem with it now.’

  It was true they had enjoyed a glass of wine with dinner some nights, but as far as he was aware, she hadn’t touched a drop apart from that.

  ‘Well no,’ she agreed. ‘But then I find I don’t need that particular prop anymore.’

  If it had been intended as a hint, it was far too subtle for Pete. It sailed harmlessly over his head and, unnoticed, disappeared into the ether.

  ‘The thing is,’ she continued, ‘I developed a taste for sherry. You know the one? Comes in a blue bottle?’

  ‘Right,’ said Pete. He didn’t have a clue where this was going, but it didn’t matter really. He was quite happy to listen to Daphne whatever she wanted to talk about.

  ‘It’s the empties, you see.’

  He didn’t see. ‘How do you mean?’

  ‘Well, according to the local council you can recycle white glass, green glass, and brown glass, but they don’t tell you what to do with blue glass. So I telephoned to ask.’ She looked a bit sheepish.

  ‘What did they say?’

  ‘They asked me how many I had. I told them I had hundreds in the garage, so they offered to send someone round to get rid of them.’

  ‘Well, that was okay, wasn’t it?’

  ‘It would have been,’ she said. ‘But they sent a pest control officer.’

  ‘What?’

  ‘They thought I meant bluebottles as in the type of fly. He came to kill a load of insects!’

  For a moment, Pete thought he had heard wrong. Then comprehension arrived, dialling straight into to his sense of humour. He looked uncertainly at Daphne. The last thing he wanted to do was upset her by laughing at her. And she was looking him straight in the eye, almost defying him not to laugh.

  But it was funny. And he knew he was going to laugh. He was trying really hard not to, but he was losing it. And now he could see Daphne was losing it too. It started with a smirk, then it turned into giggles, and finally they were both laughing out loud.

  ‘Do you know,’ she gasped eventually, ‘I can’t remember the last time I laughed out loud like that.’

  Pete sighed happily, pulled her close and giving her a hug. ‘You are wonderful,’ he said.

  Then he froze, suddenly realising what he was doing. In all the time they had spent together he had never been so forward.

  ‘Oh! I’m sorry.’ He started to release the hug. ‘I didn’t mean-’

  ‘Shh!’ She looked into his eyes and placed a finger to his lips. ‘Don’t you dare let go.’

  Then she placed her own arms around his waist, laid her head against his chest, and hugged him close. For a split second he was uncertain, then he held her tight and buried his face in her hair. They stood like that for what seemed an eternity, enjoying a feeling of warmth and security that neither had known for such a long time…

  Chapter Three

  I don’t get many visitors, especially at eight-thirty in the morning. I thought maybe it was a letter that needed signing for, so when I opened the door, I expected to make eye contact with the regular, six-foot-tall postman.

  But, there was no one. Well, there was, but not at the six-foot level I expected. However, at a slightly lower altitude I found a very attractive face with a pair of beautiful brown eyes glaring at me. It was my neighbour Sophia’s niece, Jelena.

  ‘Jelena?’ I said, surprised.

  ‘You surprised see me?’ Her English was better than when we first met, but it wasn’t the finished article just yet.

  ‘Err, well, I, err…’ I was both surprised and pleased to see her but, to be honest, her aggressive stance made me think maybe I should play this carefully.

  ‘It seem long time, yes?’

  ‘Sorry? It’s only been a couple of weeks, hasn’t it?’

  ‘You not think that long time when live next door?’

  ‘Err, well, yes, I suppose it is when you put it like that.’

  ‘I think you avoid, yes?’

  I couldn’t think how to answer that. It was an accusation, not a question, and at this time of the morning I was ill-prepared for a confrontation. I wondered how I could defuse the situation a little so I could think. Perhaps using my manners might be a good start.

  ‘Come in, come in,’ I said, stepping back to make room.

  She didn’t so much walk as stomp her way in. She obviously wasn’t in the best of moods and I wondered what exactly it was I had done, but I didn’t have long to wait before I found out. As I closed the door, she rounded on me right there in the tiny hallway. I was so surprised I took an involuntary step back and found myself with my back pressed against the door.

  ‘What is with you?’ she asked.

  ‘I’m sorry?’

  ‘You and Aunt Sophia.’

  I couldn’t tell if this was meant as a question or another accusation so I kept quiet.

  ‘Have nice time, yes? When have dinner?’

  I’m one of those people who takes a little time to get going in the morning so I was puzzled for a moment, then I realised she was referring to the time, two or three weeks ago now, when Sophia had cooked dinner for me.

  ‘Well, yes, of course.’

  ‘Aunt Sophia nice time also. Then she help sort flat, and go to shopping with you, yes?’

  ‘Err, yes, she was very kind.’

  ‘You have fun, ye
s?’

  ‘Yes. Very much so. She’s wonderful company.’

  ‘So why not see again?’

  ‘But I thought-’

  ‘What? What you think?’

  ‘Well, I thought your Aunt Sophia had had second thoughts.’

  ‘She tell you this?’

  ‘Well, no, but-’

  ‘So, now you know what she think? You read mind?’

  ‘Well-’

  ‘Have you ask her?’

  ‘Well, no, of course not, but-’

  She gave me a look of pure contempt that made me feel about six inches tall.

  ‘Huh!’ she said, tossing her head back. ‘Idiot!’

  ‘Now hang on a minute-’

  ‘She beautiful woman, yes?’

  I certainly couldn’t argue with that. ‘Yes, I know, but-’

  ‘She not spend time with man for many years.’

  I decided there was no point in trying to say anything.

  ‘Not trust many man – bad thing happen in past.’

  This was a lecture, not a conversation.

  ‘Yet she happy help you, spend time you. She cook dinner. Even sleep with you.’

  ‘Well, yes. But you know damned well we didn’t actually sleep together like that. We literally both fell asleep, together. It’s not the same thing at all. It was late, we’d drunk a lot of wine. All we did was fall asleep in front of the fire-’

  ‘Yes, yes, yes,’ she said impatiently. ‘But don’t you see? That mean she trust you.’

  ‘But she didn’t say-’

  ‘Of course she not say!’ She gave me a look that said ‘how could you be so stupid?’ ‘She not know what say. Don’t you get? She scared of men.’

  Ah! Shit!

  ‘But how am I supposed to know that?’ I protested. ‘She always seems comfortable enough to me. And she was fine that night. You said yourself, she had a nice time.’

  ‘She have nice time because you not sexy man.’