Prima Facie

by Netta Newbound

  It seems as though time slows as the cup and saucer fly through the air. The saucer lands with a clatter on the occasional table beside her. The cup smashes on the floor.

  Dana's eyes, bright at first, stare accusingly at me before the lids flutter and close.

  I giggle, glancing at my father to make sure the commotion hasn't disturbed him. He's still out of it.

  I assist Dana down onto the carpet with the knife still stuck in her neck. When I pull the blade away, I jump back as blood squirts from the gaping wound soaking the walls and the carpet and even the stark white sheets on my father's bed.

  I admire my handiwork for a few minutes until the ferocious pumping blood soon settles to a pitiful spurt and then a dribble. I'm certain Dana's heart has stopped beating.

  I approach my father, the man I used to look up to and adore, and I kiss his cheek before swiping the blade across his throat.

  His eyes open for a split second and then close again as his life’s blood oozes away.

  In the utility room, I wash my hands and the blood-covered knife under the tap. I strip off my clothes. Although they’re not totally covered in blood, even a hint of their spattered DNA on me would cause suspicion, and that was the last thing I wanted. After shoving my clothing into the machine, I put it on a boil wash before jumping in the shower.

  Singing at the top of my voice.

  Dun-dun-dun, another one bites the dust.

  Dun-dun-dun, another one bites the dust.

  And another one's gone and another one's gone,

  Another one bites the dust.

  Hey, I'm gonna get you too, another one bites the dust.

  I laugh and laugh.

  Once I'm dry, I pad up the stairs to my bedroom where I choose a classy white silk trouser suit for my next performance, something that will showcase the scene beautifully.

  Thrilled, I style my hair and apply my makeup as though I'm going out for a night on the town. A pair of low-heeled strappy gold-coloured sandals finishes off the outfit. Perfect.

  Back in the utility room, I pick up the knife from the draining board and wipe it carefully. I rummage through the laundry and grab a pair of my dad’s casual trousers and a T-shirt. I head back down to the basement.

  Opening the door of the studio, I smile at the pathetic state of the man curled on the mattress on the tiled floor. He shields his eyes from the light.

  "Get up," I snap.

  He slowly rolls onto all fours and groans as he gets to his feet.

  "Out here now. Any funny business, and you'll know about it."

  He shuffles forwards wafting a putrid stench with him.

  I screw my face up in disgust. "You've filled the fucking pot again. You knock me sick. Do you know that?"

  Still he makes no sound, but shrinks away from my harsh voice lifting his arm to cover any blows that may head his way.

  I sneer at the snivelling weak bastard. My dad brought me up with the view a man should be strong and tough. Not like this weak-willed piece of piss in front of me.

  “Get out here.”

  He watches me warily and does as I ask, not once taking his eyes off the knife.

  “Here!” I throw my dad’s clothing at him. “Put them on.”

  Once dressed, I shove him towards the stairs. “Walk!” I yell.

  He stumbles then rights himself, taking slow shuffling steps.

  I push the tip of the blade against the back of his neck. “Move, you fucking idiot.”

  He cries out and climbs up the steps a little faster, shaking and blubbering uncontrollably.

  I smile, more than a little excited by what is to come. My entire body tingles in anticipation.

  When we reach the hallway he trips and shoots across the floor in a heap.

  I place a well-aimed kick at his stomach. He groans and retches, firing partially chewed beans and soggy clumps of toast all over the immaculate cream carpet.

  I roar, close to losing it there and then, but stop myself in time.

  “Get up!” I kick him in the pants, shoving him further forwards, and his face smears through the vomit. “Getup!” I scream.

  “Sally, please. Tap-tap.”

  I laugh at his attempt to trick me into thinking this could be blamed on a sex game. “We’re way beyond your fucking safe-word, Miles.”

  For the past two years, he had lived as my submissive until he took a liberty and tried to leave me for that skanky, wimpy bitch, Lana. It began as a joke, a little excitement to spice up our bordering-on-boring sex life. And it developed from there. At work, he was still my superior, but as soon as we arrived home, I would take charge, often locking him up in a box like a dog.

  The night he called me, after Lana had dumped his sorry arse, he begged me to take him back. I told him to leave the hotel and all his belongings, bringing only the money he’d withdrawn for the mortgage, and walk to the main road where I would pick him up.

  He didn’t question it. We’d often role-played and re-enacted scenes from movies, and I knew he’d think I’d forgiven him.

  He went along with everything. Coming to Daddy’s house had thrown him briefly, but still he entered and allowed me to lead him down to the basement. He obeyed my instructions to strip his clothes off, and he stepped willingly into the soundproof studio.

  He even continued to believe it was all part of his punishment, and, as usual, I would release him the next morning in time for work. His face had been a picture when he realised I intended to hold him prisoner indefinitely.

  I cleaned the shit pot out every day, one handed, holding the knife to his throat with the other hand.

  I kept the stinking excrement in double zippered plastic bags and inside a plastic container.

  I even took several of his hairs to place here and there around the crime scenes and voila, the perfect murder.

  My father used to discuss his cases with me and gloat about how they’d been solved, so using this information I was always careful to cover my own hair with a shower cap as well as a hoodie. And I always wore gloves. Besides, who would ever suspect me of carrying out such grisly murders?

  Miles half-crawls, half-staggers into the kitchen. As he reaches the sink, he turns to face me. “Sally, please.” His voice is hoarse and scratchy. “I’ve learned my lesson. I’ll never—”

  “Save it.” I step towards him and plunge the blade into the centre of his chest.

  He looks down at the knife handle, confusion crossing his face, then back at me. He stumbles forward, his arms reaching out in front of him, before dropping to his knees. Moments later, he body-slams onto the white Italian tiles. A beautiful crimson pool spreads butterfly-like around him.

  The rich, metallic scent fills my nostrils and I sigh before pulling out my phone.

  ***

  The ringing droned on and on into his brain, but he couldn’t understand why it wouldn’t stop. Feeling exhausted and bone-weary, he eventually forced his eyes open and reached to the coffee table for his phone.

  “Stanley,” he croaked.

  The screams on the other end of the phone had him on his feet in a split-second. “Amanda?” Totally disorientated, he grabbed his keys and headed out the front door still believing something was wrong with their baby.

  “It’s Sally. I’ve killed him! I’ve killed Miles! Please come.”

  As he sped to the outskirts of town, he called for back-up and an ambulance to meet him at the property. He parked just outside the gate. All the downstairs rooms were lit from within.

  The front door flew open, and Sally ran from the house covered in blood screaming like a maniac.

  He gripped her by the shoulders trying to see where the blood was coming from. “Are you injured, Sally?”

  She shook her head, her mouth opening and closing wildly.

  “Calm down, Sally. Is he inside?”

  She nodded pulling away from him as he stepped closer to the house. “No, no! I can’t go back in there.” Her legs gave out on her, and she fainted a
lmost landing at his feet, but he caught her in time.

  Lifting her into his arms, he carried her to his car and eased her into the passenger seat. He removed his jacket and tucked it around her. “Stay there, I’m going in.”

  He followed Sally’s bloody footprints through to the kitchen. There he discovered the body of a man lying face down on the floor. Considering the amount of blood he’d lost, Adam didn’t expect him to be alive, but he checked for a pulse anyway. Nothing.

  Before leaving, he decided to check on Sally’s father. He was horrified by what he found. The dead body of a nurse lay beside the bed. A deep knife wound in her neck had clearly severed the carotid artery given the force and range of the blood splatter.

  At first Adam thought Charlie Kemp had been covered in the nurse’s blood until, on closer inspection, he realised the old man had also suffered a fatal knife wound to the throat.

  Three dead bodies, but thankfully the killer was one of them.

  Hearing sirens approach, he stepped outside to greet them.

  Chapter 39

  Adam led the SOCO team to the bodies and, a short time later, he returned to Sally who was still in his car.

  “We need to get you checked out,” he said. “An ambulance is waiting to take you to the hospital.”

  Sally stared at him with bulging eyes. “No, please. I don’t want to go in an ambulance. Please don’t make me.”

  “Hey, hey. I understand you’re scared, but Miles is gone now. He can’t hurt you anymore.”

  She needed to calm down before he could attempt to question her.

  His heart went out to the trembling wreck before him. She no longer looked like the incredible beauty he’d met less than a week ago. Her gently-teased curls now looked as though they had been backcombed by a bunch of hormonal monkeys.

  She rocked back and forth, whimpering and blubbering. She clapped her hands to her ears and flinched at every sound she heard outside of the car.

  “I’ll tell you what. If you don’t mind waiting here, I’ll take you to the hospital myself. Is that okay?” He spoke slowly, hoping the words would register.

  She nodded, curling into a foetal position, her eyes shut tight.

  “I’ll be back as soon as I can. Is there anything you need from the house?”

  She shook her head, staring down at her bloody hands.

  “What about your keys and purse?”

  Her eyes darted back to him. “My handbag and keys.”

  He locked the car and dashed back to the house which had been cordoned off with tape already. He went inside looking for Sally’s things. He found them in her bedroom.

  The Scenes of Crime Officers wasted no time. They methodically went about their business.

  Not wanting to get under their feet, Adam waited outside the front door until Felix, the medical examiner, arrived a short time later.

  “Sorry to call you out so late, Felix. But you’ll be pleased when I tell you one of the victims is our killer.”

  Felix looked gaunt and grey. “Thank Christ for that. I was just contemplating retirement on the way over. I think I’m getting too old for this lark.”

  “You? Too old? Never.” He patted the older man on the shoulder and escorted him inside.

  Soon after, he returned to his car.

  Sally jumped up, her posture rigid, and her eyes wild.

  “It’s alright, just me. I’m taking you to the hospital, remember?”

  She nodded, her whole body trembling.

  He shoved the handbag beside her and ran around to the driver’s side. “Can you put your seatbelt on, Sally?”

  She slowly clicked the belt in place.

  The ambulance officer at the scene had called ahead, so a doctor was waiting for them when they arrived.

  They took her into a private room and examined her, confirming what Adam already suspected—she was uninjured but suffering from shock.

  They arranged to admit her and took her upstairs to a ward.

  Adam stayed until she seemed calm enough to talk. He was careful what he said, not wanting to set her off again.

  “Can you tell me briefly what happened tonight, Sally?”

  Instant tears filled her eyes. “After the nurse arrived at eight o’clock, I made some beans on toast for my dinner, then went up to my room. I lay on the bed dozing for a while. Maybe I even slept. I can’t remember.” Her eyes flashed panic.

  “That’s okay. Take your time.” His softened voice seemed to assure her, and she nodded.

  “I ran a bath. I couldn’t tell you the time, sorry. I didn’t look at the clock.”

  “What happened then?”

  “I soaked in the bath, reading my book. Afterwards, I got dressed and came back downstairs planning to say goodnight to Daddy.” She took a deep breath and began to tremble again.

  “He can’t hurt you anymore, remember?” He placed his hand on her arm, and she grabbed his fingers and held them tight.

  “Miles appeared from nowhere. He seemed different, crazed somehow...” She squeezed her eyes tight.

  “Go on.”

  “Then I noticed the knife in his hand. I tried to run, but he grabbed my hair,” she squeaked, and huge tears rolled down her face. “I couldn’t help it. I vomited on the carpet in the hall.”

  Adam handed her a fresh tissue.

  She took it gratefully and wiped her face before continuing. “He let go of me. He hated things like that. When I stood back up I jumped away from him...”

  She stopped crying. Her words seemed to be giving her strength.

  “That’s when he lunged for me, slipping on my vomit.” She took several rasping breaths, her eyes shut tight.

  “You’re alright. Look at me, Sally.” He stroked her hand trying to encourage her to calm down.

  She opened her eyes and stared into his.

  He nodded, and she too nodded her head.

  “What happened next?” he asked, gently.

  “He crashed down and the knife went skittering across the kitchen floor. We raced to get it. But I was on my feet. He wasn’t...” She shook her head and drew in several deep breaths.

  “You got there first?”

  “I had no time to think. It was him or me. I shoved the knife towards him, but I didn’t intend to kill him.” Her pleading eyes begged him to believe her.

  “Go on,” he said.

  Sally rubbed her eyes as if trying to erase the vision. “It was like slow motion. He just fell to his knees, his arms outstretched, still trying to grab hold of me. Then he dropped to the floor.”

  Her body tremors returned and once again Adam tried to reassure her.

  “All that blood. I knew he must be dead. The nightmare was finally over. I got the phone and called you right away. I didn’t know about Daddy and Dana. I went in and found them after I called you.”

  Huge sobs wracked her body. “Poor Daddy. He was dying anyway. Why would he butcher him like that?”

  “I’ve no idea why he did half of the things he did this past week, Sally. But I need to thank you. If you hadn’t found the courage to put an end to him, I guarantee he would’ve gone on to kill you. And goodness knows how many others.”

  *

  Before leaving the hospital, Adam found himself back at the baby unit. He watched through the outer window as the efficient nurses fussed over the precious infants in their care, weighing soiled nappies, closely monitoring and recording each change. From his position, he could hear the beeps of the highly calibrated machines that were keeping each one of the babies alive.

  Baby Stanley had his name printed on a colourful card hanging on the side of his incubator. Although teeny, he wasn’t the smallest baby in the unit, which Adam found encouraging. Naked, apart from a miniscule nappy, the scrawny, wrinkled little person, with his shock of black hair and face like ET, was the most beautiful creature he’d ever laid eyes on.

  An immense sadness hung over him. Not normally religious, he found himself praying to God that his perfect
ly formed son would make it through the next few days.

  Baby was being fed by a drip for now, but they wanted Amanda to begin expressing milk for when she could feed him properly.

  Startled by a sudden movement at his side, he turned to see Amanda still dressed in her nightie. She had darker circles than usual under her eyes.

  She slid her hand in his. “Hey, you. I thought you’d gone home hours ago.”

  “I did. Then I was called out.” He put his arm around her and kissed the top of her head.

  “Another murder?”

  He nodded. “Three. One of them is Miles Muldoon, though. So at least he won’t be killing anyone else.”

  She lifted her chin, her nostrils flaring. “I know it isn’t very Christian of me to say so, but I’m glad he’s dead. His vicious meddling caused me to go into early labour, and could cause Mary to be taken from us. To be honest, if he wasn’t dead, I would be tempted to kill him myself.”

  He pulled her into his arms. “I feel the same. But he’s not worth our anger. There’s a little boy who needs all our attention right now.”

  She nodded. “I know. Let’s go in?”

  “In a minute. Have you thought of names?” he asked.

  She nodded again. “I’ve been thinking about nothing else since he was born.” Her eyes filled with tears as she looked up at him.

  “What? What is it?”

  “Just say if you don’t want to and I’ll understand. But I thought, maybe, Andrew?”

  He wiped her tears away with his thumb, cupped her face, and kissed her softly on the lips. “I love it,” he whispered.

  “You do?”

  He nodded. “It’s perfect. Now let’s go and see the nurses and ask them to add our son’s name to his file.”

  Chapter 40

  After spending a few minutes with the baby, Adam left for home swinging by the station briefly. He slid into bed, and set the alarm for 10.00am. That would give him three hours sleep. But no sooner had he closed his eyes when the shrill, peep-peep-peep, startled him awake. “Not again,” he groaned.