by Paul Kelly
As he was talking a van passed him in the street, where the sign on the outside of the van read ‘Save a life today‘ ‘Please give Blood’,
“That’s very strange, Richard,” replied Janine Mercer... “who was this girl? I think you must have broken her heart over the phone and that’s why she was crying... You Casanova.”
Richard explained that it was Martha Peabody that he had tried to contact and he had tried several times only to find the telephone engaged after the flood of tears when he first tried. There was a pause before Janine Mercer spoke again.
“Richard... Richard I am sorry, I should have taken Martha’s name off that list. Regretfully, Martha died as the result of an awful road accident, about three weeks ago. I am sorry Richard. I really am.”
Richard didn’t know whether to smile or scowl when he heard that news, but he thanked Janine before he put the telephone down.
“Justice will out and whatever goes around comes around,” he cried as he scanned the list for his next victim.
“Good afternoon. May I speak to Heather Ramsay please?
“Yes, this is Heather... Who’s that?”
Richard coughed lightly wondering what next to say as he cleared his throat.
He knew he would have to speak very slowly and deliberately for this one... There was no such thing as a stutter as far as Heather Ramsay was concerned, and he knew that the name he was about to use... the pseudonym would send her heart over the moon, but as he was ruminating, a cat squealed somewhere outside and he clamped his hand across the mouthpiece.
“Bloody pest,” he said... “No, No, not you Heather. I don’t think you will remember me. My name is Schofield... Brian Schofield... We went to school together and I was wondering if you’d like to escort me to a dance... say tomorrow evening.”
Richard thought he could hear a little squeal of delight as he hunched his shoulders and grinned into the phone, but a dustbin lid rolled out near the telephone box and settle itself on the pavement outside with a bang.
“Brian Schofield... Brian Schofield who was in my class at fifth form?” Heather asked and then she gave another little squeal. “Oh! Brian I’d love to come. Did you say tomorrow evening or was it tonight?”
“Tomorrow, if you’re free around 7.0 pm. if that’s O.K?”
“Yes, yes, Brian... Oh! I was washing my hair tomorrow evening, but I can do that tonight. Yes, that will be fine Brian. I look forwards to seeing you again. Bye Brian, Bye... Yes, yes, I know the place. I know it well...”
Richard replaced his phone into its cradle and smiled wickedly. Brian Schofield was every girl’s heart throb when they were at St. Michael’s and he felt sure that the less than plain... if not quite obviously ugly, Heather Ramsay would respond positively, but he would have to be careful to keep his coat collar turned up around his neck when he met her... and maybe wear a soft hat. That’s what the handsome Brian would have worn for such a date. Richard felt sure of that.
Heather turned up twenty minutes early and Richard could see her standing at the arranged spot with the street light showing her ugly features once more and he wondered how she had the bloody cheek to call him plain... The nearby canal glistened in the moonlight as it splashed it’s way merrily into the river.
“Psst... Psst... Over here,” he called out in the dark and Heather Ramsay fluttered her eyelids.
“Brian,” she called out as Richard approached and he grinned, wondering what she would do if he showed his face, but he knew that wasn’t necessary. What he had to do didn’t require that she should see his face. She would only have to feel his hands...
“Aaahhh... aaahhh” she croaked before she fell and Richard picked up her body and threw it into the canal, kicking a shoe after her that had fallen from her foot.
***
It was nearly two weeks after... that an unidentified body was dragged from the river and again, police suspected foul play, although there was sign of any sexual motive as the body was fully clothed...
“What a pity,” sneered Richard as he played another of Chopin’s pieces on his violin... and his hand was as steady as a rock...
Chapter Thirty-One
“You look very sad this evening, Richard, is there anything I can do for you,” asked Fiona, but Richard could only shake his head. His efforts to try to trace another of his school friends had proved to be abortive. “I think you must still be grieving for Maya, but surely you must have come to terms with your loss after all this time. You cannot go on through your life grieving forever. Please let me help you,” she went on, but Richard would only shake his head and play a solemn tune on the violin. The music seemed to portray his mood as far as Fiona was concerned as she tried in several ways to bring him out of himself.
“Is there anything I can do for you, that mother did... I don’t mean anything very personal, you understand, but well... perhaps if you play me some of the music that you played to her... or something like that... Might that help, do you think?”
Richard stopped playing his violin and looked into Fiona’s eyes.
“If there was something you could do for me in that way, I would be even sadder than I am now,” he said. “I had a relationship with your mother... with Maya that I will never ever have again. Please understand.”
Fiona was rather annoyed at his response. She knew she could never replace Maya in Richard’s estimation and in one way she was consoled to think that she was not alone in that feeling since he told her that no-one would ever take Maya’s place... nevertheless her annoyance persisted as she turned on him with quite a sarcastic and stupid remark.
“No-one will ever call you Bollocky-Boy, again, I suppose,” she snapped and Richard put his violin down gently on the settee where he was sitting.
“No, I don’t suppose anyone else ever will,” he said, “Although Maya always regarded my testicles as my best feature. Did you know that?” he replied in equal sarcastic mood. Fiona blushed, but she couldn’t control her laughter.
“Don’t you have any shame, Richard Bright?” she asked and it was his turn to laugh.
“It wasn’t all one sided,” he said, “I used to call Maya names too... and she liked it.”
“Did she now... well what makes me think she wouldn’t, I wonder?”
“Yes I called her dimple-bum and rose-tit,” said Richard and Fiona laughed and blushed all the more.
“Dimple-bum... well, I suppose I could understand that... at a push... but rose-tit... no, I don’t get that one. Was it because her breasts were rosy?” she asked and Richard smiled.
“Well, no it wasn’t because of that although her breasts were rosy. No, It all started when one Valentine’s day, I stuffed her bra with white rose petals... She liked that.”
Fiona looked to the ceiling when Richard said that. She didn’t know whether to laugh because his remark was so stupidly funny or to cry because she thought it was totally romantic.
“I think you were both a couple of clowns in your antics together. That’s what I think,” Fiona replied, “and Maya was worse than you because at her age she should have known better,” she added and strolled off into the kitchen to prepare supper, but Richard followed her as she went.
“Haven’t you ever talked like that to anyone, Fiona?” he asked and she told him to mind his own business. “But I’m serious,” he went on. “It’s a beautiful language when you’re in love,” he added, but Fiona could never imagine anyone stuffing her bra with rose petals nor checking to see if she had dimples on her bum.
“I don’t think along those lines,” she said abruptly, hoping he would change the subject, but Richard was persistent.
“What would you say was my best feature, Fiona?” he asked, with a sly grin on his face and she was taken by surprise at his question. It was something she hadn’t thought about... or had she. She thought for a few
moments and turned to face him
“I think... I think you have nice eyes,” she said and he smiled.
“But you don’t think I’m a Bollocky-Boy, do you?”
Fiona spun round to face the wall, away from his gaze and her expression changed in an instant when Richard said that to her.
“What a thing to ask me. How on earth would I ever be able to answer that?” she demanded and Richard laughed.
“Would you like to see them?” he whispered, as he leaned over her shoulder and Fiona’s eyes popped out of her head.
“No I wouldn’t... I don’t go in for such luxuries,” she explained and Richard laughed again.
“Not even just a little peep?” he asked and she blushed all the more.
“No... Not even that,” she said, “I think we should have supper now or it’ll get cold.”
Richard strolled back into the lounge and started to play his violin again with the ‘Romance’ by Dvorak, but he had plans for later on that evening when he had a few telephone calls to make.
***
“Good evening. I would like to speak to Joseph Barras please.”
“Yes... Who’s speaking please?”
Richard held his breath for a few moments when the female on the other end of the line asked him that question. He took a deep breath, which always helped when he was afraid he might stutter, but a wicked thought came to his mind before he spoke again.
“My name is Thompson... Eric Thompson,” he said with a grin on his face as he waited to hear what Mr. Abbot would make of that.
“Hi there,” came the response. “Can I help you? I’m Joseph Barras.”
“Good evening Mr. Barras. You don’t know me but I understand you know my wife, Mrs. Maya Thompson?”
There was a long silence before Joseph Barras spoke again.
“We have met a few times, Mr. Thompson,” said Barras in a low voice... “What can I do for you?”
Richard noted, how particularly Barras had lowered the tone of his voice and he gathered he didn’t want anyone else at his residence to know who he was speaking to and certainly not what he was speaking about.
“I think we should meet, Mr. Barras... or may I call you Joseph?”
Again there was silence.
“Yes... yes that might be possible,” said the voice again, followed by an even quieter response “but you realize I have to be very discreet. I have a wife to think of. You understand that, don’t you Mr. Thompson?”
“Certainly and I respect your discretion. I have to be likewise, you understand that too, don’t you Mr. Barras... Joseph?”
Richard met Joseph Barras outside the Hare and Hound public House in Carlos Street the following evening at nine o’clock.
“I don’t know what to say, Mr. Thompson. It is obvious you must know about my relationship with your wife, but honestly, I didn’t think she was married.”
Richard raised his eyebrows.
“You are married too Mr. Barras... Does that make such a difference? I wouldn’t have thought so. After all we are both men of the world and we know when the urge comes along, there is little we can do to control it... especially if there is some outlet for these urges just waiting to be had.”
Joseph Barras was stunned at the understanding of his companion as he smiled and put his hand out to shake Richard’s.
“She’s a wonderful woman, your wife, Mr. Thompson and I think you are a very exceptional and understanding husband. Thank you.” said Joseph Barras as Richard took a step nearer and fumbled around in his pocket for a second.
“No... thank you,” he said and the smile slowly went from Joseph Barras’s face as he fell to the ground.
***
Two policemen strolled past Richard about ten minutes after he had done the deed,but neither of them took any notice of him as they passed and Richard smiled softly to himself.
Typical... he thought... when you want one, you can never find one and when you don’t, two come along at once... Hope they don’t notice anything strange until I get home... but at that moment a crowd of schoolgirls came around the corner, laughing their heads off and Richard scowled as he touched his Michael knife in anger.
***
It was stale news for Richard when he heard the following morning on the T.V. that the serial killer had struck again, with the same pattern as he had used before... always with a sharp instrument to the jugular and there were no witnesses. It seemed that the police were baffled and Richard was delighted.
Chapter Thirty-Two
“Hello... Is that Sarah Medcraft?”
“Who is that? Tell me your name.”
Sarah Medcraft could hear nothing on the line but deep breathing.
“Good afternoon. May I speak to Sarah?” the voice continued.
“Yes this is Sarah. Who are you?... If you don’t answer me, you can get off this bloody line, you pervert.”
Richard put his phone down and sighed. What would it take to make them feel exhausted? There was more than one way to skin a cat, he thought... or was there.
***
“Is that Moira Bancroft?”
“Yes, this is Moira. Is that you Bob?”
Again all that Moira could hear was someone breathing deeply into her phone. “Get stuffed,” she snorted and banged the phone down as Richard stroked his Michael knife with great pleasure. It was beginning to look lonely all wrapped up in its leather scabbard as suddenly another idea entered his head.
***
“Why am I doing all these solitary jobs,” he asked himself aloud as he scanned his little book. ‘Swift... Irene Swift’ he read and then he blinked in confusion. “She was a nice girl. I remember her, yes Irene was one of the nice one’s. She never laughed at me,” he murmured to himself before he turned to the next page.
***
“Tobias... Margaret Tobias, now she was a pain in the arse... if ever I knew one and she had a cousin too. The both of them used to laugh together, arm in arm they did, the silly sods. Now what was her cousin’s name... Tobias... No... it wasn’t that. They didn’t have the same surname... Ah! I remember it was Smith... plain ordinary Jane Smith. Now how the hell could I forget that?”
Two for the price of one, he thought as he polished his knife again.
“Is that Miss Tobias? Miss Margaret Tobias?”
“Yes... who is that?”
“You don’t know me Margaret but I’ve been talking to your cousin... Jane Smith. You were at school together and I remember a show you were in one Christmas. It was a sort of pantomime that the children did for charity and I noticed how talented you and your cousin were in that show... and I wondered if you’d like to do the same again... but of course in an adult pantomime?”
Margaret preened where she stood with the phone in her hand. Of course she was prepared to do what she did before, for charity of course. What girl wouldn’t... and Richard smiled.
“Hello, is that Miss Smith? Miss Jane Smith?”
“Yea... That’s my name... whose zat... whose askin’”
Richard went through the story again about the children’s pantomime for charity, telling Jane Smith who he was sure she would only have remembered him vaguely anyway as she taunted him just a little less than her cousin did and by this time, Richard was beginning to feel confident about his actions and a certain arrogance came into it as he mentioned his name with a sense of pride and well being. Would Jane like to do the same again, with her obvious talents, but this time for an adult show and needless to say... and just as he had anticipated, Jane was delighted...
The arrangement was that they should both turn up for a primary rehearsal. Margaret was to be there at 7.30pm the following Thursday and Jane at 9.0 pm. The reason for the different times of rehearsal was so that each should show their indiv
idual talent and Richard assured them that there was no doubt they would each have a part to play, but this was the way the show was run.
Vanity played its part in Richard’s ruse and the girls turned up exactly at the times proposed... He looked into Jane Smith’s eyes and stuttered in his arrogance...
“You... c... c ... c... can call me what... y... y... like now as you... w... w... won’t ever open your... p... p... p... pretty little... m... m... mouth again, darling...”he said, but the girls never got to play in the pantomime... and Richard smiled as he left them, skimpily dressed and gasping for breath as a pool of water formed around Jane Smith’s feet.
“Oh God, another one”... he whispered into the cold night air... “She’s pissed herself,” Richard muttered, “How bloody undignified for these girls to do a thing like that.”
***
“Is that Joseph Bertrand?”
“Yes, this is he, who are you?”
“This is the telephone directory service Sir.” Richard raised his voice a pitch in an effort to confuse his listener. “The new directory is now published and I just wanted to confirm that your address is as it was in last year’s edition. Would you confirm your address for me please?”
Mr. Bertrand obliged very readily and Richard took down the address in his little book. ***
Two days later...
“Hello... Is that Mr. Bertrand? Mr. Joseph Bertrand and do you live at 43 Grosvenor Street?”
“Yes. I am Joseph Bertrand and that is my address. What do you want?”
“You don’t know me Sir, but I believe you may have met my sister.”
“Your sister... who the hell are you?
Richard smiled. J.B. was beginning to get annoyed and the plan was working.
“My sister is Maya Thompson. She told me you had proposed to her and I want to know why you didn’t keep your promise...
There was, as expected a very long silence on the phone before Mr. Bertrand spoke again.
