He stepped back in surprise and noticed the state of her clothing, which looked bedraggled. Her jacket was slightly torn and there were spatters of blood on her face and body. The blood on her face was smeared and he guessed she had been crying. Then he noticed her hands; they were full of it, as though dressed in crimson gloves.
‘Shit!’ he said, pulling her into the hallway and shutting the door behind her. ‘What the fuck’s happened?’
Adele tried to speak but her voice broke and the tears flowed once more.
‘Have you been attacked?’ he asked but she still couldn’t speak. The state of Adele suggested that she had been the perpetrator rather than the victim but Peter found that hard to believe.
‘OK, come in,’ he said, pulling her gently by the arm and leading her through to the kitchen. He sat her down on one of the wooden dining chairs. It would be easier to remove the blood from them than from the upholstered suite in the living room.
‘Right, I’ll make you a cup of tea for the shock,’ he said. ‘Then you can tell me what’s happened.’
While Peter rushed around making tea, he kept a watch over his distressed sister who was now sobbing and shaking. He set the tea down next to her and opened the lid on a brandy bottle.
‘N-no,’ Adele muttered.
‘Have it!’ he ordered. ‘We need to calm you down then you can tell me what the fuck’s happened.’
His phone rang. Peter was tempted to ignore it but he was waiting for the heads-up on a job. He picked up the receiver. ‘Not now,’ he said. ‘Something’s gone down. I need to sort it urgently… No, nothing like that… just a bit of business. That’s all. I’ll get back to you once it’s sorted.’
He turned to Adele who was drinking the brandy-laced tea. ‘You ready to talk yet?’ he asked.
Adele nodded and settled the cup back down on the table. ‘Oh Peter,’ she cried. ‘I-I-I’ve killed him.’
‘Killed who? What the fuck you on about?’
‘Him. Our dad,’ she spat the last word as though it tasted sour on her tongue. ‘I’ve killed him.’
‘What? How?’ Peter asked, finding it difficult to believe what he was hearing.
‘I… He… he put Mam in hospital,’ she sobbed. ‘You should see the state of her!’
She paused, and Peter stared at her, waiting for her to continue.
‘I only went to get some things for her… the bastard was there! I was so angry. He didn’t even ask how she was…’
‘OK,’ said Peter, trying to keep his voice calm. ‘So, what happened?’
‘I don’t know! It all happened so quick. I got annoyed. He was calling her useless… and me too. I’d just come back from the hospital. Seeing her like that… and then him just brushing it off.’ She paused again, her voice shaking.
‘So you attacked him?’ asked Peter, his calm façade now slipping as worry set in.
‘No… not exactly. He went for me first. We were rowing… and… and then he went for me. He was strangling me and hitting me. He had me pinned down on the floor!’ Adele broke off again and took a sip of the brandy-laced tea before continuing. ‘I had to stop him, Peter!’ she cried. ‘So I hit him with that brass cat. And once I started, I couldn’t stop!’
‘Jesus!’ said Peter.
‘I couldn’t stop hitting him, Peter,’ she wept, looking at her blood-drenched hands.
‘Jesus Christ, Adele! You don’t fuckin’ do things by halves, do you?’
She hung her head in shame. After a few seconds she raised her head again and looked at him. ‘Oh, Peter. What am I gonna do?’ she asked. ‘What will happen to me?’
Peter took a tentative step towards his sister and rested his hand on her shoulder. ‘It’s OK, we’ll sort it,’ he said, in a flurry of words. ‘Finish your drink. I’ll go and run you a bath. Make sure you scrub every bit of that fuckin’ blood off you. And leave your clothes outside the door. We’ll need to get rid of them.’
She nodded.
Peter paced the room, trying to think of a plan. ‘Give me your house keys,’ he babbled. ‘I’ll go back to your place. Grab you some clean clothes. You stay here. Put my dressing gown on while you’re waiting. When I get back we’ll sort it. OK?’
Adele nodded and tried to force a smile from her trembling lips.
‘It’s OK, sis. Don’t worry,’ he reassured her, patting the top of her head before he left the room to go and run her a bath.
Peter wished he felt as sure as he was pretending to be. But, the truth was, Adele was well in the shit and, at the moment, he didn’t know if he could get her out of it.
Chapter 43
On the journey back to her parents’ home, Adele tried to calm herself by taking deep breaths. But her heart was thundering in her chest, and her hands felt clammy.
Although they were in Adele’s car, Peter was behind the wheel. He didn’t want to get any blood in his car and Adele was too edgy to drive. He had covered the car seat with polythene to minimise the amount of blood that might transfer onto his clothing.
While he drove he explained what they were going to do. A sea of words floated around inside Adele’s head. But she missed their collective meaning. She was finding it difficult to take everything in.
‘Adele! Fuckin’ snap to, will yer?’ Peter ordered. ‘I need you to concentrate. This is important. OK? As long as you do everything I say, it’ll be all right.’
He outlined the plan. He’d already explained to her that they had to do it that night so that everything would appear as normal as possible by the time their mother returned from hospital the following day. They would remove the body first and put it inside the boot of her car. Then they’d clean up their parents’ house and remove all traces of blood. They’d also have to get rid of the weapon: the brass cat.
‘Don’t worry about them,’ he said, in reference to the body and the weapon. ‘We’re gonna put them somewhere where no fucker will find ’em. Then we need to go back to mine and clean your car out. It’s important to remove every last trace of blood. We don’t want anything that might fuckin’ incriminate us. OK?’
Adele nodded and muttered, her mind picking up on the fact that Peter seemed to know what he was doing. It was as though he had done this sort of thing before.
Before long they arrived at their parents’ home and parked the car in the next street so there was less chance of anyone spotting them. As they made their way to the house Adele’s heart rate speeded up even more. She could feel a cold shiver of fear zip through her body then settle in the pit of her stomach, clutching at her insides.
They stopped at their parents’ front door. Before they entered, Peter scanned the street to see if there was anyone around. Fortunately the street was empty. He then looked across at her. ‘Right,’ he whispered. ‘This isn’t gonna be fun but I need you with me to make sure we don’t miss anything. Brace yourself.’
‘OK,’ muttered Adele, taking a deep breath. But it wasn’t OK; it was anything but OK and she dreaded what she would find on the other side of the door.
‘You go first, unlock the door,’ whispered Peter.
Adele looked puzzled and a renewed pang of fear shot through her body. She was hoping he’d lead the way. Somehow that made it feel easier.
‘I don’t wanna touch the door,’ he said. ‘Don’t worry, I’ll go in front once we’re inside.’
As soon as they were in the hallway, Peter withdrew some disposable latex gloves from his pocket and put them on. ‘You don’t need any,’ he said. ‘You can explain your fingerprints but I hardly ever come here. The most important thing for you is to get rid of all the blood.’
Adele felt a huge hammering inside her chest when she heard the word ‘blood’.
‘Come on, let’s get it done with,’ said Peter.
She followed him through the hallway and into the living room where they could hear the television still blaring. After the shock of battering her father to death, switching off the TV had been the last thing on Adele’s
mind.
‘Was the TV on all the time?’ asked Peter.
‘Yes,’ she murmured.
‘Good, that means there’s less chance someone could have heard something.’
At first she couldn’t see past Peter but when the sight of her bludgeoned father met her, she stopped in her tracks. He was lying at an odd angle. He didn’t look like their father. More like a car crash victim. His body was limp yet contorted.
Adele approached cautiously staying one step behind Peter. There was blood. Lots of blood. Coming from her father’s head and scattering outwards. She edged closer. Drawn to the sight of his head. The blood more concentrated. Thick masses of it. Congealed around his head and clinging to his hair.
At first all she noticed was the blood. But as she drew closer, she took in the detail. A dense concentration of multiple head wounds. His head dinted with the force of the blows. Shards of splintered skull protruding through the crimson mass. Black hair, white bone, pink flesh; all splattered with various shades of red. And something else, which made her heave. Brain matter; squidging out beneath the bone in lurid shades of red and pink. Her stomach lurched and she forced down the bile that rose to her throat.
Adele felt light-headed. Her senses were vying for supremacy as fear and panic took a hold on her. She stepped back, her mind telling her she needed to get away. ‘Oh my God! I can’t,’ she muttered. ‘I can’t do it.’
She began pacing the room, frantic. Her head was pounding as the blood pulsed around her body. It was as though she had seen her dead father for the first time. She hadn’t fully taken it in before; she was too hyped up with anger. But now, the harsh reality hit her.
‘I need to get some air, Peter,’ she said as her chest tightened and her breath came in short gasps.
Before she could reach the hall, Peter grabbed hold of her arm, spinning her round and giving her a sharp slap across the face. The force of the blow brought her to her senses.
‘Fuckin’ calm down!’ he ordered. ‘Get a grip, Adele.’ Then his voice became gentler as he gripped her by the shoulders, stared into her eyes and said, ‘I know it’s not easy but you need to stay calm. OK? We’ll deal with it.’
Adele nodded. She could feel hot salty tears coursing down her face. ‘Just give me a minute,’ she said.
‘OK, take some deep breaths. Compose yourself. Then we’ll get on with it.’
When Adele had got over the initial shock, her breathing eased. Her muscles felt wobbly; the aftermath of the adrenalin rush that had assaulted her body. Peter was right. She needed to stay calm.
Adele approached the body once more. This time she was prepared for the horrific sight of her battered, dead father. She tried to keep a grip on her emotions and focused her eyes elsewhere as they did what had to be done.
Peter did most of the work, wrapping their dead father’s body inside the fireside rug, which was so full of blood that it would be difficult to clean. The ghastly spectacle didn’t seem to bother Peter and Adele wondered again whether he had done this sort of thing before, but she decided she didn’t want to know.
When they had the body wrapped securely they carried it outside and headed towards the car so they could put it in the boot. As they made their way down the pathway that skirted their parents’ back garden their progress was slow. Adele could feel the weight of the dead body inside the rug, tugging at her overstretched muscles. It seemed to be getting heavier.
When the strain became too much, she slowed almost to a stop. ‘I can’t, Peter,’ she gasped.
Peter glanced around. ‘OK, ease it down a minute,’ he whispered. ‘We can’t stay for long though. Someone might spot us.’
While she rested, she was conscious of Peter’s stare until, eventually, feeling pressured, she nodded her head. Peter grabbed one end of the rug and heaved their father’s body under his arms. Adele mimicked his movements.
She only had hold of it for a few seconds before her muscles screamed out at her again. But she persevered, knowing they had to get to the car as soon as possible.
When they reached the car, Peter checked once again to make sure there was nobody about who might see them. Although the body was well disguised by the rug, people were bound to wonder why they were carrying such a huge bundle at that time of night.
Adele felt shattered by the time they had heaved the body into the boot. But there was more work yet to do.
They returned to the house. All the time while they were in the living room, Adele could hear the drone of the TV in the background. Her head was now aching and she reached to switch off the TV.
‘Don’t!’ ordered Peter. ‘Leave it on. I don’t want anyone to hear us. We’ll switch it off before we go.’
The clean-up seemed to take ages but Peter insisted they were thorough. Adele was relieved when they had finished. She glanced around the room one last time. It looked odd. The missing rug and brass cat were bound to raise suspicions. Not to mention the clean smell of disinfectant.
Peter seemed to pick up on her thoughts, ‘I know it looks suspicious,’ he said. ‘But no one can prove fuck all. As long as you keep your cool and don’t tell the police nowt.’
Adele kept quiet. She knew her ordeal was far from over and she dreaded the police interrogation that she still had to face.
She was about to leave the house when Peter spoke again. ‘Right, what things do you need to collect?’ he asked.
Adele stared at him blankly until he elaborated. ‘You were collecting some things to take to hospital tomorrow, weren’t you?’
In the midst of all that had happened, it had slipped Adele’s mind.
‘Get the stuff you came for in the first place,’ Peter continued. ‘We’ve got to make everything look as normal as possible… And when you pick our mam up tomorrow, you’ve got to stay fuckin’ calm. All right? Don’t go giving the game away. As far as she’s concerned, he’s disappeared along with the rug and the cat. And nobody knows fuck all about what’s happened.’
*
Adele’s mind was in turmoil as they drove away from her parents’ home with her father’s body in the back of the car. For a while she stayed silent but thoughts were chasing around inside her head. If only she hadn’t lost it. If only she’d ignored her father’s scathing comments and just collected her mother’s things. But she hadn’t expected to see him there and the sight of him had infuriated her.
She’d always known she had a temper. It had been with her since she was a child. But she hadn’t realised what she was capable of, and the realisation both shocked and frightened her.
Perhaps it would never happen again. Maybe it was because of what their father had put them through. But, nevertheless, she would have to live with the guilt and she didn’t know whether she could.
She snapped to as they left the suburban streets behind and drove into the countryside. ‘Where are we going?’ she asked.
‘The river,’ said Peter. ‘We’re gonna sink him. Don’t worry, no one will ever find his body.’
Adele gulped but stayed silent. She could feel her brother’s eyes on her. ‘What?’ she asked.
‘Listen, Adele,’ he said. ‘Once we’ve finished the job, you’ve got to put this behind you. Don’t go beating yourself up over him. He wasn’t worth it.’
Even as she nodded her assent, she could feel the bitter tears of regret clouding her eyes.
Peter stopped the car on a dirt track. She peered through the windscreen and saw that it led onto a bridge, which straddled the River Mersey. It was quiet. The only sounds she could hear were the flowing of the river and the hooting of an owl.
‘Right, let’s get him out,’ said Peter, all matter-of-fact. ‘We’re gonna toss him over the bridge.’
Adele followed him to the boot of the car, taking in the smell of the country air, permeated by death. She tried to keep her emotions in check as she stared at the rolled-up rug, which contained her father’s body.
‘I’ll grab the heavy end, you take his legs,’ Pet
er said.
Again, Adele tried to retain control. While they struggled to carry his lifeless form towards the bridge, she blocked out all thoughts of her father, trying to remain as impassive as Peter, but it wasn’t easy.
‘Right, put it down a minute,’ said Peter when they reached the bridge. ‘Let’s just have a breather before we chuck it over.’
Adele noticed his use of the word ‘it’. Perhaps that was how he managed to be so detached, by thinking of their father as a thing rather than a person. Perhaps there was some truth in that view, she thought, sardonically.
‘You ready?’ he asked and Adele nodded.
They lifted him between them and heaved his inert body to the top of the fence that ran down the side of the bridge. Adele jumped when she heard the almighty splash as his corpse hit the river’s surface. Then it sank to the bottom.
‘Don’t worry,’ said Peter. ‘This part of the river’s deep. No one will ever fuckin’ find him.’
A transient thought flashed through her mind. How did Peter know how deep the river was?
Adele stared down into the darkness. Her eyes settled on the water below, bubbling and eddying. She could see no sign of her father or the brass cat, both wrapped up inside the blood-drenched rug. And tomorrow, the river would add vibrancy to a picturesque countryside scene, for visitors to behold. No one would know the evil secret which lurked below its surface.
Chapter 44
Adele was exhausted when they returned to Peter’s flat. All she wanted to do was sit down, but they still had work to do.
‘We’ve got to clean your car out tonight,’ said Peter. ‘We don’t want to wait till morning. It’ll be easier for someone to spot us then.’
Peter parked the car in a quiet side street. Then they crept through the street carrying cleaning equipment and set about the arduous task of scouring the car out. To enable them to see in the dark, they switched on the car’s internal light.
Peter was the first to spot a man walking his dog. ‘Quick, get down,’ he said, flicking the light off before concealing himself in the footwell.
Born Bad Page 23
