Suspicion of Murder

“Imagine for a moment – waking up in a crime scene. A murder you did not commit. Then realizing the evidence will point right at you – what would you do next?”

I wrote this story in answer to the following prompts:
Fandango’s One Word Challenge – Not
Fandango’s Story Starter – First line of the story
Word of the Day – TurtleDove
Pensitivity’s Three Things Challenge – Cable, Manual, Book

Suspicion of Murder

He realized that she had made a fool of him when he opened the drawer and found the USB cable. Blonde hairs were caught within the blood staining its white rubber sheath.

The gore had stained multiple pairs of boxers and socks turning the whole drawer into a bloody crime scene.

Jock was dazed and naked having woken from a wild party night. Scanning the untidy bedroom, he felt his chest tighten. What else has she done?

Dressing at speed, he entered the lounge and grimaced at the festering remains of last night’s pizza on the teal sofa. Around it were two dozen empty cans of bitter, and an empty vodka bottle. Beyond them the bookshelf demanded attention. A thick book on birding had oozed blood from its spine onto the white carpet.     

Jock felt his lips run as dry as the Kalahari as he grabbed his hair with shaking hands. It was then his eyes found his phone on the floor. Grabbing the Samsung, he saw a message waiting for him;

‘Stay where you are and remain calm sir. Police officers are on route.’

“Oh shit!” Jock scrolled up. They were answering a message sent from the phone to the police helpline;

‘I just murdered Angie at 71 Silver Street’

“Oh, Shit!” Jock felt his heart squelch as he pocketed the phone and ran into the hall. “Oh, Bailey! What the hell have you done!”

Grabbing his coat, Jock snatched his car keys from the hook by the door and left the apartment.

The lift was ascending and so he bounded downstairs. Reaching the foyer, he burst through the glass doors. Angie was not in the reception as she should have been at this time of day.

A police car rolled to a stop in front of the building.

Jock skidded to a stop and reversed his course. Back past the steps, he lunged through the utility area. Ignoring the laundry, he thundered through the bin room door and gained the underground car park.

A glance about revealed no police. Even still he ran until he arrived at his Audi Quattro. In white, it was a classic and he prayed this wouldn’t be the last time he got to drive it.

The car was a manual. On form, the gearbox crunched as he put it in reverse and shrieked out of the bay.

His neighbour Ted was coming in, He waved and then dived aside as the Quattro shot passed him.

Jock swiped his pass at the gate and accelerated into the drizzle that dampened the city into a grey mood.

“Right, now what?” he thought as he made use of back streets to negotiate the busy inner-city roads. “I have to find Bailey. Force her to tell the truth, and make her pay!”

Jock made his way to the local supermarket. Bailey worked the dairy counter there. A circuit of the car park failed to locate her silver Megane. She hadn’t come to work today.

The Quattro’s rear-view mirror flashed with blue lights.

“Damn it!” Jock slammed the accelerator to the floor. Lurching back in his seat, he drifted and slalomed his way out of the car park.

The car hit the slowing humps and went airborne before crunching back to earth in a spray of water.

Jock hit his head on the roof but whipped the car around a bus and away at high speed.

The police car kept up the chase.

Jock knew the driver would be calling backup and planning to sting his tyres soon. He took a one-way street the wrong way and bounded over an embankment at the bottom. Going right at the bridge, he swung the car off the road into a footpath.  

A wing mirror exploded from the vehicle as it scraped past trees and bushes. Soon the Lefthand side gave way to warehouses and an escape route.

“Bloody hell!” Jock felt himself sweating as he slammed on the breaks, and leapt out of the car. Over the bonnet, he went, as he made for a side alley.

Sprinting into the industrial estate, he snaked his way past printing companies and car sales forecourts undetected.

Allowing three police vehicles to pass him on the main road, he leapt out of hiding and dashed across between cars. Now he was in Dereham Grove, Bailey’s home street.

Jock felt breathless as he came within view and spotted a police car parked outside. “Bugger!” he managed as he made a right into Grove Close and searched between the houses for the turtledove that resided upon Bailey’s conservatory. Right now he realised it ought to be a vulture.

There it was. Jock broke a dozen trespassing laws entering the premises of an elderly person judging by the handrails at the front door. He climbed the garden gate and dashed across a freshly mown lawn. Then using a staghorn tree, he slipped over the fence into Bailey’s unkempt garden.

“Don’t kill her!” he begged himself as he reached the conservatory. Trying the door he smiled — it was unlocked.

Entering, he realised the police were still there.

“Well, Ms Ferdon. We’re sorry to bring you disturbing news. If you see Jock, call us at once,” requested a male officer.

“Of course, he needs incarcerating before he kills anyone else,” Bailey said with malice in her voice.

“You evil —” Jock uttered an unrepeatable tirade as he pinned himself to the wall and waited his chance.

The front door opened and the officer left.

“Oh, Jocky, you are in trouble!” Bailey uttered having returned to her lounge.

“Not as much as you!” he answered having stepped into the room.

“Jock!” Bailey’s face paled as she dashed to the coffee table for her phone.

He beat her to it. Snatching the I-phone he hurled it across the room.

The device exploded against the wall and rained upon a startled cat.

“Calm down, Jock!”

He twisted his neck to the side making the bones crunch, “What the hell did you do!”

“Nothing! I —”

“Liar! When I went to bed last night, you were with me. You wanted me and pledged your love for me. I fell for a deceitful trick, didn’t I?”

Bailey approached him, “Shush, Jocky, I love you,” she simpered having run a finger along his chest.

“Get off me, you evil succubus!” Jock stepped away. “What did you do with Angie?”

“Seems you made her late for work, well forever really,” Bailey said as if discussing dinner options.

“No, you strangled her with the cord and bludgeoned her with my bird book! Why for goodness’ sake?”

“You tell me why she deserved it? — you did it.”

“Shut up!” Jock felt his mind whirring. “You knew her before I introduced you last week. I was your way into the building, so you could murder her. That’s correct isn’t it?”

“Why would I do that?”

Jock stole a glance at the cream room. The mantle caught his eye. A photo of Bailey was kissing a brunette stood in a bronze frame there. “Jealousy.”

“What?” Bailey struck an evocative pose and pouted as if bored of the argument.

“You loved Angie but she didn’t swing that —” Jock recalled one afternoon a couple of weeks ago. “You saw her kiss me when I got home from work, didn’t you?”

Bailey’s right eye spasmed as if his words struck a nerve.

“Yes, you couldn’t handle that and so you seduced me to get in the building. You murdered Angie and framed me!” Jock threw the coffee table askance and stepped toward her. “Didn’t you!”

“No!” Bailey spun away.

“Liar!” Jock’s yell sent the cat fleeing the room. “Angie was a good kisser by the way!”

“Damn you! That was my kiss!” Bailey screamed. “She got what she deserved!”

“Yeah, and now maybe you should get some comeuppance as well,” Jock stepped forward again. “You —”

“Freeze where you are!” yelled a police officer stepping into the room. He held a yellow Tazer stun gun aimed at Jock’s chest.

“Thank God!” Bailey ran to the officer. “He killed Angie and came to kill me too!” she managed through crocodile tears.

“Bull-shit!” Jock seethed.

“I said freeze. Jock Selvam you’re under arrest on suspicion of murder and attempted murder. You don’t have to say —”

“I don’t have to say anything. She said enough for both of us!” Jock revealed his phone and pressed play on the recording he’d taken.

Within two minutes, the officer went from arresting Jock to arresting Bailey. He seized Jock’s phone as evidence and took him and Bailey to police headquarters.

Jock was questioned for three straight hours before being released without charge. Reunited with his prized Quattro. He drove to see his mechanic with a wry smile. Not every day you get to dodge a murder charge.

The End

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