A Killer's Calling: Incite to Murder 1

by John Stuart Owen

  ‘I don’t know what’s bothering you but you’d better snap out of it . . . or we might as well go home!’

  ‘I’m sorry Catherine, but I’ve got a lot on my mind.’

  ‘You’re not the only one; deal with it!’ With that she disappeared into the bathroom.

  Oh, I’ll deal with it, he said under his breath; I’ll fucking deal with it. For a while, he sat in silence, kicking ideas around in his head, but he needed to get things moving. He called to her, ‘It’s half five already, I think we should eat here.’

  ‘Whatever suits you; it’s fine with me.’

  ‘I’ll nip down and tell Mrs. Vaughan; won’t be long.’ Kevin found Mrs. Vaughan in the back room that served as her kitchen and living space. It was where she spent most of her time when not helping or serving guests.

  ‘That will be fine Mr Carter, shall we say six?’

  ‘Six will be perfect but please, not so formal; it’s Catherine and Kevin. Please no more Mr. Carter; you make me feel like an old man.’

  ‘As you wish Kevin,’ she replied, smiling shyly.

  Freshened up they went downstairs to the dining room. Catherine was in a lighter mood and was looking forward to their meal. Kevin also seemed to have bucked up and was trying to make light conversation.

  Mrs. Vaughan met them at the table. ‘Sorry about the limited menu tonight but there’s only you and me this evening. It’s either battered cod or steak!’ They quickly settled on the fish.

  The meal was reasonable enough but little was said, both lost in their own thoughts. After dinner, Mrs. Vaughan came through with some coffees.

  ‘Why don’t you come and join us?’ Catherine’s request was politely refused.

  ‘Oh no . . . I couldn’t Mrs. C . . .’

  Kevin held his finger up, stopping her flow. ‘It’s Catherine,’ he interjected.

  ‘I couldn’t Catherine; my guests need their privacy.’

  ‘Please, we would love you to join us.’ Catherine motioned Mrs. Vaughan to take a seat beside her. ‘How long have you lived here in this beautiful house?’

  ‘Oh, it’s about ten years. My husband and I lived in South Africa for many years and when we returned we bought this place as a going concern. Unfortunately he passed away two years ago. It’s been a bit of a struggle but I’m used to it now and I enjoy meeting new faces; it keeps me in touch with the outside world.’

  ‘I noticed there were quite a few African pieces on show around the house; ornaments, carvings and I love the batiks, the colours are striking.’

  Mrs. Vaughan was enjoying the attention that Catherine was giving to the artefacts that had been deliberately placed to be noticed. ‘They are not all decorative you know.’

  Mrs. Vaughan now caught up in the African interest had more to show, but Kevin had lost interest. ‘We have taken up enough of Mrs. Vaughan’s time Catherine; I think we should move on.’

  ‘Oh, all right. It has been lovely to talk with you Mrs. Vaughan.’

  ‘It’s Ruth, my friends call me Ruth.’

  Catherine smiled, ‘Ruth it is.’

  They slowly made their way towards the door. ‘How do you get on with the locals?’ Kevin was fishing.

  ‘Oh I’ve made some very dear friends since I’ve been here, but during the holiday season we can’t do a lot, it’s too busy; but now it’s getting quieter, our social life begins to pick up.’

  ‘Do you know anything about the chap who lives across the way?’ Kevin waved his arm in the general direction of the beach house.

  ‘No not really; he keeps himself to himself. Came here about eighteen months ago; I believe he is a widower. He has a stepson who sometimes stays with him, but the lad has got in with some troublemakers in the town and spends most of his time staying over with them; I rarely see him here.’

  ‘Is he the lad with the motorbike?’

  ‘That’s him’ she answered. ‘Have you met him?’

  ‘Oh no, we just saw him on the beach.’ Catherine chose not to comment; there was no way that she wanted to relive yesterday’s trauma.

  Ruth Vaughan spoke quietly. ‘I don’t like to speak badly about anyone but do yourselves a favour, keep away from both the father and the son, they are not nice people.’

  Kevin smiled, ‘Well thanks for that, we will certainly keep our distance.’ As they reached the hall, Mrs. Vaughan gestured for him to follow her.

  ‘Come, let me show you something.’ And she walked over to the hat-stand that stood near the outside door. ‘What do you think of that?’ And she handed him what appeared to be an ornate walking stick.

  Kevin had never seen a stick like it. He fondled it, his fingers stroking the spiral flute carving that led up to the large ball form of the handle. ‘That’s really something. I can see why you brought it back.’

  Mrs. Vaughan was now in full flight. ‘It is actually an African club used extensively by tribesmen for hand-to-hand combat; it was particularly favoured by the Zulus’. My husband, Elliot, brought it back not just as a memento but because it makes a very good walking stick and see, the hardwood cudgel has a perfectly round carved ball that serves as a handle. It was so designed that when it was used as a club it could go through the skull of an opponent.’ Ruth Vaughan's hand softly caressed the polished ball of the handle as she placed the knobkerrie back in the stand. It had been a while since she had had a captive audience who had shown an interest in her African heritage. She had enjoyed herself.

  ‘Good night Ruth, it's been lovely.’

  Ruth Vaughan smiled serenely. ‘I’ll see you both in the morning then.’

  Chapter 26

  As they entered their room, Kevin checked the time; it was a quarter to seven. ‘Let me run your bath.’

  Catherine was immediately on her guard. ‘That would be nice; what are you after?’

  ‘Oh, no, nothing,’ he replied, with a forced laugh. ‘It’s been a long day and I know you look forward to your evening bath; I just wanted to help.’

  After adding her scented oils, he called out. ‘Bath’s ready.’ They crossed in the doorway. He went to kiss her, but she turned her head, offering her cheek. She wasn’t ready for any advances; things were far from right. Catherine was already undressed with only her bathrobe covering her slender frame. She placed her tiptoe into the bath; as she did so her gown fell to the floor. Her naked beauty aroused Kevin instantly and he watched her gently lower herself into the water and slide into the welcoming warmth that soon engulfed her. He watched from behind the half closed door, enjoying her nakedness, enjoying the voyeuristic nature of his lust.

  He glanced at his watch . . . it was just after seven. I must hurry; he poured a hefty shot of Baileys liqueur into a tumbler. About to leave the room, he noticed that Catherine had placed a box of tablets on her bedside cabinet, sleeping tablets! He tipped some into his palm. Three . . . no four . . . that should do it! He needed to crush them to powder quickly, but there was nothing suitable in sight. Throwing them into his mouth, he began to chew. In seconds, with his juices flowing, they were a mulch of powder and sputum. He spat them into the glass, stirring the evidence away with his finger. Satisfied with the result, he looked for something on which to wipe his finger; the curtain came readily to hand.

  ‘A little something for you sweetie’ and he placed the drink within her reach.

  ‘I’m just going to watch the box, I think there’s a game on, just relax and I’ll see you in a bit.’

  She looked at the drink, took a large swig and moved it closer. Found she could operate the hot tap with her foot and thought, Umm, that could be quite a while, and gently drifted off to a land of make believe.

  Kevin quickly pulled on his outdoor gear, the windowsill acting as a perch as he did so. No sign yet of his quarry. Footwear would be important and not really knowing what tonight would bring, he settled for his lightweight climbing boots. The adrenalin was already flowing as he steeled himself for some action. He chanced opening the bathroom door . . . just enough t
o see inside. The glass was empty; Catherine was unaware of his presence. He closed the door and crept away. Ready now, he waited at the window. Just as he was beginning to think there was going to be no show, the hound appeared. It was straining at the leash and physically pulled Sturgess out of the gateway and onto the path.

  Taking your master for a walk are you? He looked at his watch. Ten past seven . . . perfect.

  He slipped quietly out of the room and down the stairs; there was no one about. He made straight for the hat-stand and pulled out the knobkerrie. Kevin had no idea how his meeting with Sturgess was going to develop but armed with this, he felt he could more than cope. Holding it at the lower end, he swung it around. What a weapon. He slipped through the front door and away.

  Having had about five minutes start, Sturgess was out of sight. Kevin set himself a leisurely pace, wishing only to confront the man and his dog after they had turned and were returning back down the path. It took about twenty minutes to arrive at the chosen point where the path ran close to the cliff edge and where the rocky headland created a natural screen. Sturgess would have to approach from around a blind corner giving Kevin the element of surprise that he needed. With his thoughts racing and palms sweating, he waited.

  Sturgess reached his outbound point. The dog had already had enough and turned for home. Kevin watched and waited, listening for anything that would signal their return . . . then . . .

  ‘You fucking hound . . . get from under my feet.’ The hairs on his arms stood on end as Kevin felt the tension course through his body. The dog appeared, quietly dragging his charge into view. Kevin stepped out, blocking the path. The hound lunged catching Sturgess off guard. Striving to hold the snarling beast he yelled out, ‘What the fuck! Who’s that there?’

  ‘Don’t shout at me you piece of shit!’

  Sturgess now grappling with the dog, shouted in Kevin’s direction . . . ‘Just get out of my way!’

  ‘I don’t think so . . . If I let you by, that dog will bite me . . . look at him.’ Kevin thrust the knobkerrie into the dogs face. The snarling animal, now wild and frenzied locked its teeth onto the stick. A kick at its ear distracted the beast and Kevin was able to reclaim it.

  Sturgess had got himself together and although struggling to hold the vicious dog, was now starting to enjoy the skirmish. ‘If you don’t move, I’ll make sure he bites you.’

  Kevin was ready. ‘If I’m to move . . . then it’s going to cost you, let’s see now; I’m a reasonable man . . . I reckon £2,500 would be a fair price.’

  A forced smile turned into a lurid snarl. ‘Well . . . you reckoned wrong,’ and he let the slack loose on the dogs chain. The beast was in the air, jaws wide open and foaming, heading for Kevin’s groin.

  It never saw the boot coming. A perfect volley had the dog change direction in mid air, disappearing over the cliff edge with barely a whimper. The chain had tightened around his master’s wrist and he lurched forward at full stretch crashing to the ground. Now hanging by its neck, the howling dog was slowly dragging Sturgess off the path, towards the crumbling slope.

  He looked up with a pitiful expression of despair etched on his face. The bleeding fingers of his free hand were tearing at the shale path as he tried desperately to avoid following the dog on a slide to certain death. ‘Help me . . . please . . . I’ll pay you . . . anything!’

  Kevin stood above him holding the Zulu club high above his head, ready now to despatch the fallen bully; but he hesitated. He dropped down onto one knee and looked into the tear soaked grimy face of his helpless victim lying spread-eagled before him.

  ‘Keep your fuckin’ money; it wasn’t mine. And that word . . . the last of your three R’s, the one you couldn’t remember.’ Kevin poked him with the knobkerrie, gently prodding his fingers free of any anchor they might find as they scratched at the ground. . . . ‘It’s revenge.’

  Sturgess began to slide, his voice now rising in pitch, his screams mingling with the dog’s howls as he finally lost all grip and fell over the edge.

  Kevin ran forward and watched as the tumbling body disappeared. Crouching, he peered over into the abyss panting and gasping; he was unable to control the adrenalin rush and screamed down into the empty void. ‘And next time don’t piss me off.’

  He started back down the path trying to collect his thoughts. He had never experienced a high like this. God, that was good! The bastard deserved that. ‘Rot in hell you swine!’ He was thinking fast; that’s a good 100ft. drop and there’s water at low tide. He’ll be smashed to pieces before they find anything. Kevin’s thinking was sound; but wrong. Some 20ft down from the cliff top, the chain connecting the dog to its master, hooked over a broken stump protruding from the cliff face. The sudden jolt ripped Sturgess’s arm from his shoulder socket. His Barbour jacket took up the slack preventing the arm from being torn off. The pain caused him to scream and faint but the dog’s head smashing into his own soon changed that. The tree stump acting as a fulcrum point had caused both master and dog to swing as two opposing pendulums. By fate, the position of the chain on the stump resulted in their heads crashing together. The dog began biting and tearing at whatever was in its range and within seconds Sturgess’s face and eyes were gone. The taste of blood in turn made the dog more frenzied. The thick leather collar serving as a cushion on the dog’s neck resulted in it being able to maintain a constant attack on the dangling human form. Both died that night in prolonged agonising pain. Kevin would have been pleased . . . had he known.

  Chapter 27

  Calmer but a little breathless, Kevin arrived back at the lodgings. He steadied himself before opening the door. The house was quiet and there was no one was around. He replaced the knobkerrie back in the stand and moved swiftly up the stairs. Catherine had not yet emerged from her soak. Kicking off his boots, he quickly discarded his outdoor clobber and casually put his head around the bathroom door.

  ‘How long will you be?’ There was no response. He crept up to her. God is she breathing? The foam curtain covered her body; only her head was visible. He moved closer and was relieved to see some movement. He had to wake her; he found the plug chain and gently pulled, breaking the plug’s seal. The foam began to fall, slowly uncovering her body as she lay prostrate. His excitement began to rise as her breasts began to emerge from the gossamer foam that tried desperately to cling to her curves. She began to move as the chill of the air replaced the lukewarm water. Kevin waited as the water began to unveil her dark velvet triangle, the white of her thighs emerging as though watching a scene from a slow motion movie.

  It was time to leave. Kevin settled himself back into the easy chair feigning sleep and waited.

  Five minutes elapsed; he was getting impatient. Where the fuck is she?

  A frail voice broke the silence. ‘Are you there Kevin? . . . Kevin!’

  ‘What is it? . . . Sorry I was dozing.’

  Catherine stood there draped in her towel. ‘I feel dreadful . . . My head . . . it’s pounding. I fell asleep. I’ll have to stop drinking! I must have pulled the plug with my foot ’cause the water had drained away . . . I’m frozen!’

  ‘Can I get you a drink?’

  ‘A cup of tea would be nice.’ She held her head as she sat on the bed. ‘What have you been doing?’

  ‘I was watching the box but dozed off . . . You woke me!’

  ‘You seem wide awake now!’

  ‘I’m actually knackered, what say we turn in?’

  ‘Fine . . . don’t bother with the tea.’ She checked out her wrinkled hands. ‘I spent too long in the water, look at the state of me’. But Kevin didn’t hear; his mind was elsewhere. Catherine as always picked up his lack of interest; it no longer bothered her. She slipped between the sheets and closing her eyes, turned onto her side, away from him. Kevin eventually climbed noisily into bed and lay on his back. He let out a loud sigh. Catherine pretended not to notice his antics, she had a lot on her mind, the realisation that she was in a marriage that was an unmitigated di
saster was consuming her. How had she been so taken in by this “Jekyll and Hyde” character; the warnings from family and friends she had swept aside. She was her own person; she knew what she was doing. The Kevin she knew was a very different person to the one that they saw and tried to warn her about. Tomorrow they were heading home; she was going to tackle him about their future. With her eyes closed, she looked forward to a night of sleep . . . but she was groggy. Kevin touched her.

  ‘What do you want?’ He turned and rolled on top of her. She realised immediately what was about to happen and tried to push him away. He was fully aroused and clumsily probed until he entered her. He didn’t hear or notice her cries, or her beating fists. He was in a world of his own and loving it! It lasted less than a minute; he shrank away from her and rolled onto his back.

  ‘How could you behave like that?’ He didn’t answer. He took a sip from his drink; his mind doing somersaults. Her drugged body could not cope with the trauma and sobbing quietly, she slowly drifted off to sleep. He woke her twice that night, ignoring her cries and struggles. She prayed for morning; no longer weeping, a steely resolve about her, she was a different person . . . he had seen to that. She was going to put an end to this charade; how could she have been so stupid.

  Chapter 28

  Kevin awoke, bright and early and eager to get on with his day. Catherine was already dressed. She had been busy. Knowing she couldn’t face a four-hour journey back home with a stranger who had no interest in her or her well-being, she had phoned Stan Clayton’s home number and arranged to re-purchase her Micra. She would collect it that morning.

  ‘Let’s get down for an early breakfast,’ chirped Kevin, completely unaware of the rift between them. ‘C’mon gal, buck up; it’s a beautiful day and we have got it all ahead of us.’

  ‘I’m not having breakfast!’

  ‘What the hell’s the matter with you?’