by J. S Ellis
‘Withdrawn,’ she said.
‘I told you what happened,’ I said.
‘Yes, you told us you were asleep. Maybe you were sleepwalking when you killed him. Or perhaps drunk?’
‘Objection!’
Tears fell down my cheeks. ‘I loved my husband, and I didn’t kill him.’
‘Is that why you were having an affair? Is that your undying love for your husband, Mrs. Knight? And now you blame your lover when he was seen in a club full of people, the same person you blamed for hacking the emails you sent yourself?’
‘I did not kill my husband! You have to believe me!’
I sat there humiliated, and defeated. My Mum was crying, and Andy was in the back listening. I can’t understand why he’s at the court hearings. Why do I have the impression Andy knows I didn’t do it? Why doesn’t he come forward and help me? He won’t, they are like brothers, that’s what Michael said. They’re protecting Sam. The police are still looking for him. Is Andy willing to carry such burden to defend his friend who assaulted a woman, and killed the husband of that very woman? I don’t think he can. I wonder what Michael will do? He’s killed once, perhaps he’d kill again.
Michael won’t tolerate going to prison, and what they do to pretty boys like him. He’d kill himself instead of going through that. Andy looked at me with a puzzling expression, like he knows something more, and was telling me, you don’t deserve this. He knows I didn’t do it. Andy nodded before walking out. I have the feeling something terrible is about to happen, I don’t know what, but I can feel it, and I can’t do anything to stop it from happening.
10th September
Evening
Jonathan told me the night Richard died, Michael was in the club, and alibis confirmed it. How is that possible? How can someone be at the same place at once? Precision is a fundamental key. How did he do it? It takes a lot of effort to plan something like this.
Jonathan stood in the courtroom and began to tell the jury,
‘It all began the night Mr. and Mrs. Knight bumped into Michael in the restaurant. When Michael saw Richard in person, he started to become envious of him. Until then the man was non-existent.’
Jonathan paced up and down the room.
‘Michael knew Mr. Knight had heart problems and was on medication, because Sophie told him so.’ Jonathan addressed the room. ‘He set out a plan that involved poison, the weapon of choice for wives to get rid of their husbands. It’s a classic, old-fashioned way to commit a crime. Which poison though? All of them are lethal. He decided the poison would be sodium hypochlorite, most commonly found in household bleach. The most accessible poison found in hardware stores. If you look at item fifteen, that is the bottle of bleach found in Sophie’s cupboard under in the sink. She did not keep any washing products there so where did it come from? There is another matter to consider, item twenty, the turkey basters. There was no record of Sophie buying or owning any. Why should she?’
Jonathan faced the jury. ‘To commit the perfect crime, it requires discipline and patience. Michael bought the bleach, and rather than carrying a bottle to her flat he carried it inside item twenty-the plastic tubes, safely hidden in the breast pocket of his blazer. He went to Evelyne’s more frequently, passing through Sophie’s neighborhood, hoping he’d catch her on her way in or out. On the afternoon before Richard’s death, the opportunity presented itself. In her diary, item twenty-one, Sophie wrote about how she ran into Michael near her apartment that afternoon. He followed her there, they argued and had make-up sex. She fell asleep, and I propose to the jury, that Michael got out of the bed, took the tube of bleach with him to the bathroom and removed item seventeen, that is Richard’s aftershave.
Then came the key, Sophie had found it misplaced in her bag. In her diary, she wrote.’ Jonathan paused for a brief moment and studied the jury, holding their attention as my dairy was passed around. ‘Michael could have made a copy and placed the key back, only he made a slight mistake. He placed it in the wrong pocket,’ Jonathan explained, ‘In her diary entries she wrote that Michael came to her apartment for the second time with the excuse that he wanted to make love to her.’ Another slight pause, ‘when Sophie ended the affair, it sent his jealousy into a downward spiral.’
As Jonathan explained all of this to jury, I wondered what Michael thought when I ended the affair.
Sophie took the pleasure, my passion, my love, my body, my dignity, and my pride. She took and took until she left me with nothing, and when she had her fill, she tossed me aside like garbage to join the line of rejected, unwanted, inconvenient lovers. Did she actually think she would hurt me and win? No fucking way, she doesn’t get to win.
Jonathan’s voice brought me back to the present. ‘First, he let the affair get into the open by hacking into her email and sending those photos. He made sure everything she loved and owned crumbled. Now, the night of the murder, Richard spent most of the day in his study and then went to bed. By then, the bleach had done severe damage. Nausea hit Richard like a punch. Meanwhile, Sophie drank a bottle of wine in front of the TV, switched off the lights, and went to sleep. Michael entered the flat using the set of keys that he’d had copied. The supplies were in his pocket. He located the master bedroom, dipped the turkey basters into the bleach and forced it into Richard’s mouth. With Richard’s heart condition, one dose was enough to kill him. He continued until the bleach was finished. He would have felt agonizing pain, with the bleach tearing up his esophagus, and the rest of his organs, and died a slow and painful death,’ Jonathan said.
I imagined Michael looking into the eyes of a dead man, of him coming into my room and gently pressing the turkey baster against my finger long enough to leave a fingerprint, and doing the same again with the bottle of bleach. Jonathan’s voice brought me back to attention.
‘He planted the bleach, the tubes, and turkey basters under the sink and fled the scene.’
How did it feel to be a murderer? Killing an innocent man, he had no quarrel with. To have Richard’s murder tied around his neck for the rest of his life. I still can’t establish how he had alibis. Did he force them? All of them? No, there’s an explanation. It’s right there in front of me, only I’m missing it.
15th September
Evening
Waiting has become a big part of my life. Staring at walls has become my main pastime. The whole experience has put me off drinking. Michael is roaming in the streets living his life, while I am here. How did it lead to this? I told Michael where we stood from the beginning. I thought I was clear, but no matter how many times I told him, he didn’t really believe me. He thought I’d leave it all for him.
I’ve done bad things this year but not enough to go to prison for. Michael wants to punish me, to humiliate me, to see me rot. Nothing will give him more pleasure than to see me go to prison. Andy has been to the courtroom twice. Maybe he was there the whole time, but I didn’t see him. Was it Andy sending me the notes? My instinct tells me he knows I’m innocent. He knows Michael did it. I can’t do anything, nobody will believe me. Can’t Andy testify as a witness?
20th September
Night
Jonathan came to see me this afternoon to deliver some terrible news. As he began to tell me, I saw his lips moving, but the moment didn’t seem real.
‘It can’t be...no...it must be a mistake!’
‘No, it’s no mistake, Sophie.’
He placed a newspaper in front of me, a photo of me, then another picture of the flat.
Fire in Camden.
The headline read. Two people dead, five injured. I stared at the headline without reading the article, the words smudged from my vision. All I heard were background noises and voices. Jonathan placed his hand on my shoulder.
‘Are you all right?’
When will this nightmare end?
‘Sophie?’
I just want to lie down, close my eyes, and wake up when it’s all over. Will it ever be over?
21st September
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Afternoon,
I sat in the room looking at the tiny window. The sun is out, that’s all I know. I’ve got the newspaper lying on the bed beside me, and I still can’t believe it. I’ve read it several times now, reminding myself it’s real. The bodies found in Michael’s flat are still unidentified. Jonathan told me he’d let me know when there’s more news.
Is Michael dead? Sam? Andy? My mind is racing. I can’t relax. I’m so tired, haven’t had a proper sleep in months. I feel dirty, haggard, and weak. A fire. The flat burned to ashes. Did he start the fire? I don’t believe it’s an accident, even though the newspaper said it might be an electrical fault.
Maybe Michael is involved and made it look like an accident. How many lives is he going to ruin to save his own skin? Mike’s not dead, not in a million years. I feel so helpless, if only they had listened, then none of this would have happened. Nobody wants to listen to a drunk.
24th September
Afternoon
Jonathan came to visit me today. He placed a few newspapers on the table in front of me. The bodies have been identified - and they say they are Michael and Antti Hekkila’s, formerly known by his stage name as just Andy. Michael is dead. No, he can’t be dead! It’s impossible! He also told me the police had found incriminating stuff about Andy, and that the police are questioning Evelyne.
‘Are you listening to me, Sophie?’ Jonathan asked.
‘I’m sorry, it’s a terrible shock, it makes no sense. I told you Michael killed Richard, and now he’s framed Andy for it? Can’t they see?’
‘Sophie, Michael called the police before the fire and said, ‘you’re sending the wrong person to prison, it wasn’t Sophie, it was Andy. I’ve been stabbed, please come. There was a struggle. Both bodies had stab wounds.’
At Evelyne’s apartment, Andy had a room that nobody was allowed into, he carried the key everywhere with him. The police found it on the body. In the room, the police found guitars, cocaine, money, and marijuana. Apart from that, they found tubes, bleach, turkey basters, photographs of me, a photograph of Richard, and black French knickers. Evelyne said they are not hers, and the police suspect they are mine. How did Andy manage to get my panties? And if that wasn’t devastating enough, they found a key, but it didn’t match any locks at Evelyne’s apartment. Blake tried it on my apartment, and it worked.
‘Andy must have been the one sending you those notes, and who tried to push you and everything else,’ Jonathan said.
I shook my head, Andy had nothing to do with this. Was he a character? Yes. Full of shit? Yes. A stalker? Never.
‘You know Michael might have planted everything there,’ I said to Jonathan
‘A drug dealer came forward. He was questioned and admitted he sold Andy the drugs.’
I couldn’t listen anymore, about the lives he destroyed, and the innocent people he’d hurt. I know Mike’s not dead there’s something I’m missing. It’s there, but I’m too confused to see it.
30th September
Evening,
Can’t get it out of my head, did he do it to spare me from the terrible fate? If it weren’t for that night, if I didn’t leave the club with Sam, none of this would have happened.
Blake has just been here to have a word with me. Evelyne is still at the police station, she must be going through a tough time right now. The confusion, the unanswered questions, the shock, Andy didn’t kill Richard, how could he? He had no reasons to, nor did he send me the notes. He’s just another man dragged through the mud.
Black told me the charges against me will be dropped, and my name will be cleared. There’s a new lead to the case, and I have to wait to show up to court in front of a judge, again. ‘Just be happy, Mrs. Knight, soon you’ll be a free woman.’
What’s the point? That’s what I keep asking myself. What’s the point? The damage is done. It won’t bring my husband back.
1st October
Morning,
This is my story. This year I started writing a diary, hopeful I’d turn my life around, but look how appalling I’ve behaved. It’s not over yet, not until I’ve solved the mystery. There are questions that need answering. How did Michael frame Andy? What did indeed happen in that flat? What happened to Sam? Where is Sam? Is he dead too? Was he the one sending me the bloody notes and making those phone calls? Did he try to push me to an oncoming car? Why?
I have to find out what happened. Michael’s dead. I read each snippet about the accident. Did Andy make the anonymous phone calls?
5th October
Afternoon,
Blake came to see me, to identify the underwear. They are mine all right. Michael could have taken them from my bag, he took my key, so God knows what else he took that I’m not aware of. It gives me the creeps.
I’ve been lying on the bed staring at the ceiling, going over our affair to look for more clues. Our relationship was a fantasy. I was in such a trance, I failed to realize until it was too late. I’ve been going over the night I found the key misplaced, the evening I saw Sam.
Someone tried to get into the flat and left me a note by the door. After the police came, I ran out of the flat and went straight to the enemy, who offered solace, comfort, and love when I needed it. I found Michael in the club and met his friend, Matti, the blond, who looked like him.
I saw their outburst and how upset Michael was. He was troubled that night, deep in thought. Matti said he was a musician passing through from Sweden, before going to New York? Whatever happened to him? I had totally forgotten about him, I must speak to Blake at once!
8th October
Afternoon,
‘But you have to understand, perhaps Matti has something to do with this? What if the alibis about Michael being in the club weren’t true? Maybe it wasn’t him they saw, but Matti,’ I said to Blake.
He stood across from me, with his hands sunk into his grey coat pockets.
‘What crime novels have you been reading?’ Blake asked.
It makes sense. Matti might have been in the club, the night Richard was murdered. The people at the club might have mistaken him for Michael.
‘He looks a lot like him, the only difference is Michael has blue eyes, Matti has green eyes.’
‘Had.’ Blake corrected me.
‘I don’t believe he’s dead.’
‘What are you saying?’
‘I have a theory...’
Blake crossed his arms. ‘Let’s hear it.’
I circled around the room. ‘What if whoever saw Mike in the club wasn’t Mike but Matti?’
‘Mike performed at the club, Sophie. There’s footage.’
‘What about afterward? What if he sneaked out and the people there thought it was him, but it wasn’t.’
Blake shook his head.
‘Hear me out will you,’ I snapped.
He sighed.
‘In the flat, two bodies were found - Andy’s and Michael’s, but what if it was Matti and not Michael?’
‘The identification was positive! You might find it hard to believe, but the body was of Michael Frisk - he’s dead Sophie! He died after he made the phone call to the police!’
I sighed. ‘You’re not listening to me detective. What if Michael was using another name?’
‘Why would he hide his identity?’
‘Let’s say Michael is living as this lad Matti, this person from his past. Michael had something on Matti and Matti wanted to frame Michael. Maybe that’s why I saw them argue that night and their friendship was just for the public.... So, Michael finds a way to get rid of him in that flat. Michael killed Matti and put his body in the flat, don’t ask me how, I’m just hypothesizing. Maybe he invited him over and killed him there. While he was looking for a way to get rid of the body, Andy showed up to confront him, and told him he knew he killed Richard. That was when he decided to get rid of Andy too, and the fire was deliberate to destroy the evidence.’
Blake rubs his face, he’s not getting it. ‘Do you have any idea how
crazy this sounds?’
‘Is it, though?’
‘He must be smart for a kid.’
‘But that’s the thing with Mike, he is relentless. He does whatever’s necessary.’
‘Leave the detective work to me, Sophie. The case is closed, and soon you’ll be free a woman. Just put this behind you. It’s not easy, but try to take care of yourself.’
‘What do you mean take care of myself?’
‘The drinking.’
‘I haven’t had a drink in months.’
‘Good, stick with it. The drinking led you into this trouble in the first place.’
‘Sam will know if that body you found is truly Michael’s, and I bet he knows where he is.’
‘We searched Evelyne’s place. He left like he was in a hurry.’
I stared at him thinking that’s it? They’re going to stop looking for him? What about what he did to me?
Blake turned to leave. ‘It’s a good theory, I must admit, but we can’t prove it.’
‘Did you find saxophones?’
Blake spun around. ‘What?’
I turned to him. It was the first time I saw the good detective confused.
‘In Michael’s flat, did you find saxophones? He owned three. One silver, one gold, and one red.’
‘No, we didn’t find any saxophones, we did find a guitar... what was left of it.’
I know they didn’t find jack shit because he took them with him. A musician would not leave his prized possessions behind.
15th October
Morning,
Dear Diary,
I’m a free woman. Bought a new diary. I’ve decided that since the year is almost over, I will start afresh, but to do so, I have to move out of the city. I don’t want to live in an apartment where Richard died. Since Richard had no relatives, he left everything under my name. I’m going to use the money wisely. Even if Blake doesn’t believe my theory, I’m going to stick with it. Mum is helping me look after things. I missed her so much, no wonder I felt so lost all those years.
‘If you were so lonely, why didn’t you talk to me about it?’ she said.
‘I didn’t want to worry you, and what with Richard and all... how things were between us...’