by CM Thompson
They paid her little attention, she said this every time they met. Laura Noble likes to pretend she is practising for a play. You’ve got to stress the right word, sound out the right syllable, got to get that mummy tone just right, ready for when she starts hysterically talking about worries for her daughters’ safety and their fear of the neighbourhood bogeyman. Got to get the small roles, the little lies right, ready for when she is leading with the big lies.
She started rubbing at her eyes, feigning distress. Not that they really noticed, they were too busy arguing. Ludmilla Bryski, bless that old bat, was refusing to leave, because she likes her house. Probably can’t face packing away all those precious crappy knick-knacks.
Laura chimed in with “I like my house too. I think he should leave, not us.” She scanned the room, hoping her face portrayed how much she loved her house and neighbourhood, except for the small problem, known as Daniel Mills.
They all echoed their agreements, Daniel should be the one who left, they need to make him leave. Nothing too nasty, they are decent people after all. They will start with gentle cajoling, dropping a few gentle hints. Laura volunteered for this, any chance to practice using her special voice and pleading eyes.
Gloria Hutchings volunteered to use a few more irritating tactics, starting with egging Daniel’s front door. Not quite what she wanted to do, Gloria had wanted to do something more extreme. Laura was quick to counsel against it, for now. That they should give him a chance to leave of his own free will before they went too extreme. He might leave quickly, she reasons with them, not believing her own words. She knows their hints and little irritations won’t be enough to convince Daniel to leave, but she wants to be the one remembered for saying “That’s enough!” To be seen as the meek one, the nice one, too scared to go along with their plans. They all have their suspicions about each other, even before Anne-Marie’s death, she doesn’t want to encourage the suspicions about herself.
Derrick is just as easy to manipulate. He likes to think he is the one who came up with the idea of prank calling Daniel. Derrick wasn’t at the neighbourhood defence meeting and had laughed along with Laura at their weak and pathetic plans. “What do you expect from a bunch of old ladies?” he had thundered, not knowing that it was Laura who kept those plans at the weak and pathetic stage. She had responded by kissing him and then soothed him by reading him stories from the newspaper. She was half way through a story about an accused murderer, forced out of his home by harassment.
“It says here they had been subjected to a series of threatening phone calls, property damage … what’s wrong, Derrick?” She didn’t really need to ask, she could see the lightbulbs going on in his head. Of course, he had just had a great idea! Well, Laura didn’t marry him for his brains.
They discussed the practicalities of his plan in great detail. Laura on Derrick’s instructions brought a cheap pay-as-you-go SIM during her out-of-town shop, paying cash, of course. Now they had a mobile number that couldn’t be traced to them, now the fun could begin.
Old Lady Bitchski insisted on coming with her to Daniel’s house, to Laura’s annoyance, “I won’t let you go alone, not after how rude he was to you last time,” she had quivered. The old bat even brought cake with her. Well, that was one way of getting rid of Daniel Mills – poisoned cake.
At first Laura didn’t think the fat fuck was going to answer the door, then he looked like he wasn’t going to invite them in. She braced herself for another door slamming in her face. He looked even worse than he had before, smelt worse too.
“Hi, Daniel, we thought we would come and see how you are.” Her voice sounded fake, even to her, she needed to practice more. He stood there, staring, then his eyes fixated on the chocolate cake and finally he invited them in.
His house looked a lot cleaner than the last time Laura had seen it, though the scent of stale beer and pizza was overpowering. Laura was grateful for it, as it blocked out some of the stench from Daniel. He ushered them quickly past the stairs and into the living room. Laura and Ludmilla gingerly sat on the faded, still-warm sofa, Ludmilla holding out the cake to Daniel. The poor old bat looked like she was going to piss her skirts out of fear. Laura chuckled to herself. The twit probably wasn’t used to dirt, squalor or giving suspected murderers cake.
Daniel seized the cake a little too eagerly and bounded off to make tea. Laura peered around the room the best she could but didn’t dare get up off the sofa. She longed to have a peep upstairs, but knew Ludmilla would object if she left to have a snoop. They both ended up staring at the stairs. It is amazing how everyone just knows that’s where Anne-Marie died, despite the tight-lipped police officers. Laura imagined she could still see the stains, and puzzled over why small chunks of the carpet were missing. She wanted to ask Daniel for any updates but the look on his face warned against it. He handed them both a cup of tea and a small piece of cake before bringing in an extra chair from the kitchen. Laura noticed then, with a slight smile, that he had cut himself the biggest slice of cake. He took a large bite and then another, praising Ludmilla’s baking skills with his mouth still full, oblivious to the fact that Ludmilla was shaking. Laura wished again that Ludmilla had not agreed to come, the stupid old bat made this harder than it needed to be. She squeezed Ludmilla’s hand, as she joined in with the praise, hoping to relax her.
“So how are you?” Laura asked brightly, trying to ease away the awkwardness.
Daniel bumbled on, and neither of them wanted to mention the previous door slamming incident
“You are very brave coming back to the house.” Laura noticed the look on Daniel’s face as she said this, she had touched a nerve.
He stared down at his tea, then tried to change the subject by asking how her daughters were.
Well this was a waste of time, not what she hoped for at all. Laura stood up then, ready to leave, but unable to resist firing one last shot. “One of my friends is an estate agent, if you were thinking about moving on.” A look of eagerness had passed Daniel’s face then it was replaced by something darker. They quickly saw themselves out.
“He is tempted already, I can tell,” Laura recounted later to Derrick. They still proceeded with their plan, after all the effort they had put in to it, they couldn’t resist. First they recorded various people saying “Murderer” from the television and then played the recording on a loop to Daniel over the phone, taking care to call only using their special SIM card. They could tell by the tremors in his voice that they had got to him. For Derrick, it was damning evidence of Daniel’s guilt. Then to their disappointment, Daniel’s number became permanently engaged. He must have taken his phone off the hook. They considered that to be a success.
Daniel stopped answering his door at that point too, so she couldn’t drop any more subtle hints. Laura and Derrick discussed the possibility of threatening letters. They were both addicted to the mild thrill of doing something wrong – Laura more than Derrick. They have to do more, they decided, he is at breaking point. They wanted to egg his door too, why should Gloria Hutchings have all the fun? And she looked like she was having a lot of fun. They kept waiting for the right moment, but the kids were always around, always watching, listening. Kids have a nasty habit of repeating things at the wrong moment, in front of the wrong people, especially hers. Laura and Derrick were just about to move on to a new idea, when Laura just happened to catch Daniel outside his house, tossing bin bags into his car. He had smiled when he saw her, asked her if she wouldn’t mind contacting her estate agent friend, if the offer was still open.
“I have decided that I should be moving on.” He tried to smile. Laura hoped he wasn’t fishing for a plea for him to stay.
“Of course, I will go get his details now,” she said, trying not to let her disappointment show. She hadn’t expected him to break so quickly, she was having so much fun tormenting him. He said nothing but a thank you when she brought over the business card. He looked tired and defeated, she noticed with glee. He said nothing in answ
er to her, “Are you alright?” just retreated back into his house, pretending he didn’t hear.
Derrick was overjoyed when she told him their plan had worked and he wanted to celebrate. They sent their daughters to Grandma’s house that night, then later when Derrick passed out from too much celebrating, she crept out of the house, wanting more. She always wanted more, that’s how all of this started.
It was a warm night, and she could smell smoke in the air. She noticed several half-opened windows in the neighbourhood. She would have to be quick, she warned herself, quick and quiet. She wanted one more thrill, something to ensure that Daniel didn’t change his mind. She didn’t have anything against Daniel, she just enjoyed tormenting him. She has always enjoyed tormenting people, it is why she worked in management.
She started by writing Murderer across the bonnet of Daniel’s car, using a nice blood-red lipstick, not a shade she would normally wear, of course. It didn’t feel as thrilling as she had hoped, it would just wash off, no big deal. She paused and took a long stare up and down the quiet street again. Do something bigger, her mind urged. She spied one of Ludmilla’s prized gnomes, only recently moved back into her front garden. She grabbed one, took steady, careful aim and threw the gnome as hard she could, aiming towards the windscreen. She immediately started running. She heard the sound of glass smashing as she ran, direct hit! She could admire the damage later, but right now she needed to get out of sight. She ran down one street and then another, stood gasping for breath in an alleyway, her body tingling with pleasure. She waited for a few minutes before calmly turning around and sauntering back home. The neighbourhood slept on, oblivious. Finally she made it back to her own home. She checked on Derrick, he was still dead to the world, he would never know she had left, would never know a lot of things really. He would never know that she had gone into the Mills’ house on the 18th of July.
This all started because Anne-Marie didn’t know when to keep her mouth shut.
The stupid bitch.
She had heard them arguing, of course. She had watched Daniel Mills leave the house, laughed hard on seeing the scratches on his face. She watched Daniel scurry out of sight, completely unaware that he was being watched. She could hear the sounds of screaming and smashing coming from inside their house, as Anne-Marie worked through her anger issues. Laura wandered around her own house then, putting a few toys away, enjoying the rare peace. No daughters whining or bugging her every five seconds. She was about to settle down and do some work when she saw Anne-Marie out alone in the streets, out again in her dirty pyjamas, a bottle of something in each hand, and she was staring at Laura’s house with pure hatred, before turning and disappearing back into her own hovel. Laura sighed, she had hoped that Anne-Marie had forgotten about this week’s payment. She would have to go around, she couldn’t risk Anne-Marie making a scene.
She heard more smashing and screaming again, the sounds of a radio being turned up. Laura waited, watching keenly, waiting for Daniel to come back. Finally the sobs died down, and she made herself a cup of tea and waited a little while longer, just in case, before finally walking across the road, a vodka bottle in hand.
She entered the Mills’ house with trepidation, pushing open the unlocked door with the vodka bottle. At the time, she just didn’t want to touch the door, now she is pleased that she didn’t. It seems so silly now, if Anne-Marie had locked her door for once, then she would still be alive. Stupid bitch deserved it really.
The house was quiet, except for the faint sound of a radio coming from next door and a faint slurred sobbing from upstairs. Laura took to the stairs, determined to get this over with, as a voice cried out, “Danny?”
There were some shuffling sounds then Anne-Marie Mills appeared in the doorway of one of the rooms, clutching the wall for support, as Laura reached the top step. Laura stopped in shock, staring in horror at the dripping cuts on Anne-Marie’s arms, hands and bloody feet.
“What happened?” she asked. She wasn’t that concerned, it’s not like she was friends with the extortionist.
“Nonnne of your bussssiness, bitch,” came the slurred reply.
Shit, she was really drunk this time. She probably won’t even remember Laura bringing over the bottle. Best to leave as quickly as possible. Just get out of here. “I brought your bottle … I am just going to leave it here.” She was just keeping her side of the deal, a litre of spirit every week. It’s not her fault that Anne-Marie was stupid drunk this time, wasn’t her fault that Anne-Marie refused to take the bottle.
“I donnn’t wannnt it.”
“I shall just leave it here, in case you want it later,” Laura had said in the same tone that she uses when Lenore is being difficult.
“I wannnnt Dannnnnnny.”
“I am sure he will be back soon.”
“Heeess nnoott comminnng bacck!” Anne-Marie had wailed so loud, Ludmilla next door must have heard despite what she says.
“OK, I shall just leave this here,” Laura had said brightly, just wanting to get out of there. Laura had stood aside slightly, to set the bottle down away from the stairs, then suddenly Anne-Marie was there beside her, blocking her way.
“Iff myyy marrrriagge is ovvveer, sooo isss yooours,” Anne-Marie had dared say!
Laura was filled with disgust that this woman, this woman who stank of vomit, piss and alcohol, that this woman would dare threaten her marriage, AGAIN! Laura took a step forward, hands raised, still holding the bottle of vodka, ready to slap some sense into the stupid bitch. She felt Anne-Marie’s nails dig into her arm, and Laura had pushed back, using the bottle with all her strength. Then Anne-Marie was gone.
Without even a scream, she was lying at the bottom of the stairs, a dazed expression in her eyes. Laura had walked back downstairs slowly, still holding the wretched bottle. Ready to do something else, she wasn’t sure what, but something. Perhaps she would have hit Anne-Marie again with the bottle. Perhaps she would have poured it over Anne-Marie and then lit a match. Fury had made her capable of doing almost anything. But by the time Laura reached the bottom step, Anne-Marie’s eyes were closed and blood was seeping out of her forehead. Laura decided that even if Anne-Marie did get up again, she wouldn’t remember what happened and that it was best to leave now, before anyone came to investigate the noise. Still clutching the bottle of vodka, she made it back to her own house, and took a long gulp from it, to steady her nerves. Her heart raced, body trembled with fear and excitement, but ding dong! The bitch was gone!
She had watched excitedly as Daniel arrived back. She watched with joy as the ambulance took Anne-Marie away, body covered, signifying that the bitch was truly dead.
Then as the euphoria faded, the doubts stabbed in. What if someone saw her? What if the police found evidence she had been in the house? What would she say?
She found a small spot of blood on her shoe and immediately soaked both of her shoes in bleach, then carefully binned them before Derrick could see. She had washed and checked her clothes carefully before slipping them into a donation bag.
Then she practised her lies. Rehearsing over and over, practising with different unknowing people. Trying desperately to prepare for every question, every scenario. Rehearsing lies, saying that she went round to comfort Anne-Marie, should the police discover that she went into the house. Lies about what Anne-Marie did when she was being comforted. Lies about why Laura was wearing long-sleeved tops in July, lies about how those scratches got on her arm. But only if they asked. Never volunteer a lie, only use it if confronted, people are always suspicious of an unprovoked explanation.
This is what Laura would have told the police truthfully. If it had come to it. If they weren’t fooled by her bullshit. She would tell them that she was giving Anne-Marie a bottle of spirits a week, something they had agreed on to make Anne-Marie leave her daughters alone. She heard Anne-Marie and Daniel having an argument and went round to comfort her, taking the bribery bottle with her. Anne-Marie was an aggressive drunk (everyone would back
her on this bit) and had become hysterical, lunging for Laura in a fit of anger. She had missed and fallen downstairs instead. Laura had ran out the house at that point, convinced that Anne-Marie was following her, not realising how badly Anne-Marie was hurt. She honestly didn’t realise that Anne-Marie would never get up again, otherwise she would have called an ambulance. She was just so scared and she didn’t know what to do. As a mother, she couldn’t bear the thought of losing her children. She is sorry about all those lies.
When the police arrived to interview her, she felt ready. It had been easier than she expected, she had slipped away quickly to find an outfit that hid the scratches on her arm. Her daughters had helped so much there; she took Lenore to Chante’s room, knowing they would start fighting, a welcome distraction for once. She still can’t believe that the police actually believed her first lie, that she didn’t hear anything, because she was vacuuming. The stupid fools.
She even had a story ready in case Derrick asked about the scratches, but he didn’t even noticed; he rarely takes an interest in her now, which is why she was having an affair in the first place. That’s why Anne-Marie had been blackmailing her. She had caught Laura passionately kissing her lover and demanded a bottle of alcohol, a full litre of the good stuff, not some cheap crap, in return for keeping quiet. Laura had paid, not wanting Derrick to know, she couldn’t risk him even starting to question the paternity of her daughters. Then she asked for another bottle, then another, then it became a bottle a week to keep quiet.
Laura tried to feel remorse for what she did. She had killed someone after all but then really, wasn’t she just performing a kindness? The bitch was past help, she was a nuisance to everyone. Laura didn’t deserve to go to prison for killing her, no, she deserved a medal, she had practically performed a community service. She had made the neighbourhood safe and quiet again.
The bitch deserved it really.
Now the charade is nearly over, but she can’t relax. Her lover has dared send her a message. One that reads I don’t think we should see each other any more. She is enraged, he can’t leave her! They are not done until she says they are done. She has asked to see him one last time and he has agreed, not knowing he is about to be hit by the full wrath of Laura Noble. She has so many things he doesn’t want his wife to see. She will make him regret even thinking about dumping her, then regret daring to send that message. She has to admit, it is absolutely delicious to have so much power over someone.