Promised Box Set

by James Kipling

  “What?!” cried Veronica.

  “You’re right, Tammy,” said Shona. “I admit, I made a terrible, terrible, mistake, and I deserve to be punished. Everything you said there was one hundred percent correct!”

  Shona then proceeded to break down.

  “How could you?” Alan said, moving away from his wife, feeling deserted.

  “And you’re not innocent, either! I hate you for forcing me into this! And you Veronica, I don’t care if I go to prison for ten years, I hate you. You’re an evil bitch!”

  “How dare you!” screamed Veronica.

  “I know about you and Alan, so there’s no point in denying it!”

  Brendan and Stephanie just sat there, looking extremely sick, knowing it was over for them.

  The police had heard enough. All five of them were taken away, never to be seen by me again.

  We enjoyed the rest of our holiday, although it felt rather lonely now that almost everyone had gone. Still, we had the Miltons to talk to, and we enjoyed our visits. They were a very nice mature couple.

  I did receive a shock on the last day, when Chloe said to me, “I’ve been thinking, Tammy. Since you solved the murder earlier this week and all, I would like to offer you a free holiday for next year! Oh, and since the Miltons have had to put up with this as well, they can come, too!”

  I never thought I would see Chloe be this charitable, but happily accepted the offer. However, the free holiday was not the main reward. The main reward for me was getting back on my feet again. I was now more motivated than ever to get on with my work. I was once again confident—perhaps more than ever—and was ready to go back and work again to catch killers, bringing murderers down once and for all!

  I returned to the US, where I was happy to see my boss. However, he did not look so happy to see me.

  “Tammy, I’ve got some bad news for you,” he said.

  “What is it?” I said. “A case?”

  “You have a boyfriend… Danny?”

  “Well, on again-off again a bit lately, but yes sir, I do,” I said, wondering where he was since he hadn’t picked up his phone when I’d called upon arriving back in the US. “Is he in some sort of trouble, sir?”

  “Well, I’m afraid that yesterday, Danny was killed… in a car accident.”

  Chapter 37

  Like most mornings these days, tears briefly rolled down my face. Peaceful quiet tears of sad resignation, having replaced the loud gut wrenching tears of new grief. These tears were a bit of a ritual, it seemed, but quickly brushed off in the bathroom each morning. It was a normal morning, as nothing else had changed since that day. Everything was back to business as usual—I had been back at work for six weeks, and nothing out of the ordinary had happened. As usual, we were back to investigating gang killings in the area. Again I was bored—sick of the job, and sick of life. It would be fair to say that I’d been feeling depressed since learning of Danny’s death—just when I’d decided to give it another go. Although no one was to blame for the death—other than Danny himself perhaps—I could not help but feel angry, wanting justice for Danny, even though there was no justice to be served.

  I returned to the office, where everyone else was seated.

  “Are you alright?” asked Miranda, who I didn’t like any more than I had before the vacation.

  “I’m fine.” While not actually true, I really just wanted to heave myself through the day so I could go home and… wait to do it again tomorrow I guess.

  I had tried to speak to my mother about it, but it was no use. Even my aunt, who was a vicar, couldn’t help. It would take time for me to get over his sudden death, and about how long that would take was debatable.

  As usual, I was assigned my next task—to discover who had murdered yet another member of the top gang in town. It made me sick, how people could just go and kill each other for no reason. Today, we were set to begin desk research into the key suspects and witnesses.

  Throughout the day, they conversed periodically as usual, until a topic came up that Tammy didn’t want to hear about.

  “So,” said Pam Kurtis. “I saw Barry Scott yesterday.”

  Even the mention of his name made Tammy feel sick. Barry Scott was the serial killer, and to date, the only person Tammy had not managed to bring to justice. She hated the thought that he was still out there, freely living his life, while the families of his victims were devastated, their lives turned upside down, all because of him.

  “Really?” said Miranda. “Where was he?”

  Miranda knew that I hated hearing about Barry Scott, but she continued to speak about him. She didn’t like me any more than I liked her, and I always assumed it was because she was jealous of the cases I’d been given and my success.

  “He was in the shopping center,” replied Pam, “looking happy as Larry, like always. He just makes me want to kill him!”

  “I’m sure he’ll get his comeuppance one day,” said Graham Mitchell.

  “Probably not,” Tammy replied, “he’s pretty cagey and always manages to have a way out.”

  “People know who he is now,” Pam said to her, reassuringly.

  “But not enough people. This case had to be thrown out, even though he pretty much confessed he was the killer. That’s what gets to me,” I said, the strong feelings I held on the subject stirring in my gut.

  Nothing else was said on the topic. Instead, they started to talk about the job they were currently working on, probably trying to distract me from the subject of Barry Scott, which we had spoken of many times before.

  “So, does anyone fancy going out for a drink tonight?” said Pam.

  The others agreed to go before I finally did. Perhaps a drink was a way to at least distract me from my troubles for a time.

  Chapter 38

  We arrived at the bar immediately after work. We needed a drink by then, all of us, because the week we were having was rather stressful and tiring. Nothing ever changed much, and we were all getting bored of the same routine, and the same long road of gangland deaths that was such a waste of human life. I had hardened myself to the gang killings most of the time, but when I encountered the families—on either side, victim or killer—it was then that I would see the little boys, still innocent, yet destined for the same fate. And me powerless to intervene. It was then that I’d wish for something dramatic to happen, as it had in Paris. A different kind of murder case to solve. Morbid as that may be, I was a homicide detective, and on thing was sure—there never was or never would be, a shortage of cases to solve. I simply wanted an occasional break from the hopelessness of the gang slayings. I wanted something to challenge my brain, fearing the lack of exercise was slowly killing it, that even now it was wasting away from lack of use, and that one day I would need to call upon it and find it atrophied and useless. All that if it didn’t get a workout soon.

  I hadn’t been in the bar but a few minutes when I received a shock when I saw Barry Scott standing there! Time stood still in that moment, as my eyes widened and the reality struck. I just could not believe my bad luck. The one night I go out, there he is with his friends, laughing and joking, and there was nothing I could do about it. He then noticed me, and had the nerve to speak, saying, “Oh, hello, Tammy! How are you today?”

  He winked at me, and it caused me to feel physically sick. I just wanted to turn round and vomit on the floor, but I knew I had to face up to him sooner or later, to try and show that he had not defeated me, even though he had. I hated him for that. I then turned my head and saw another group of people. They were staring at me, clearly making snide remarks. I wondered why they would do something like that—I’d never seen them before, or not that I knew of. I came across many people on the job though, many times in difficult circumstances, so I couldn’t be sure if I knew them or not. I’d have to give it some thought.

  The group got the drinks ordered and sat down in plain view of Barry.

  “We can’t let him get t
o us!” cried Miranda.

  “How is that possible?” Tammy asked her, trying to resist the temptation to look in Barry’s direction, to see if he was looking.

  “Well, we’ll just show him that we’re happy. That might make him upset.”

  I finally gave in to temptation. I turned around and, just as I had thought, Barry was standing there, staring at me, as if he was just waiting for me to turn around, knowing that I would. He winked at me for a second time, making me feel even more angry and sick.

  “So, anything interesting happen to anyone lately?” said Pam, trying to start the conversation.

  I turned my head slightly, but not in Barry’s direction. Instead, I was looking at a woman in red clothing who stood sipping on a glass of wine. She was eyeing Barry, and it was clear she was flirting with him, even though she didn’t speak a single word to him. I just felt like getting up and screaming, “Don’t do it! Your life is at risk!” but I didn’t. I knew that I couldn’t accuse Barry Scott of murder because there was no official evidence implicating him, even though I knew for a fact that it was him.

  Then I remembered the last thing he had said to me, “Do you like to hunt?”

  I began to have sinister thoughts. Perhaps he was planning on killing me next? I knew that I had to stop thinking about it, because it was just making me want to get out of there.

  Like always when I got nervous, I felt a sudden urge to go to the bathroom. It came on very suddenly, so I hadn’t been expecting it. Looking for the bathroom, I realized the door was right next to Barry Scott.

  “Can you look after my keys?” I said to my coworkers, indicating I was heading to the bathroom.

  Knowing there was no escaping it, I walked over toward the bathroom. I knew I needed to think fast about how to approach Barry Scott. Perhaps I would ignore him, but I worried he would talk to me, making some sort of smug comment about how I’d failed to solve the murders.

  I needn’t have wondered. As I walked past Barry and toward the restroom door, he said, “So, we still ready for that hunting trip?”

  I plainly ignored him in front of his friends. I went into the bathroom, and when I came out again, two minutes later, Barry was still there, laughing and joking with a bunch of half-drunken men.

  “Are you alright?” Pam asked, as I sat down again.

  It took me about five seconds to answer that, but I pulled together a reasonably convincing lie when I replied.

  “Yeah, I’m good,” I said, trying to put on a brave face.

  Chapter 39

  I looked over at the table where the five people were sitting. I still didn’t recognize them, but they sure seemed to know me. I tried my best to listen to their conversations, to see if I could work out who they were.

  “I wish he was dead!” cried Linda Bell, a middle-aged woman who was sitting there. She then turned around and glared at Barry, although he did not see her, not caring to notice her.

  “I can’t believe he murders our relatives and gets away with it!” yelled an enraged Joseph Hart, who was an elderly man. He was the father of one of the victims.

  Tracy Bradley, the mother of the youngest victim, just sat there, crying again.

  “I’d do anything to bring justice for my boy!” she said.

  “Believe me, love, any one of us would!” cried Bethy Sanders, the young daughter of one of the victims.

  “And there’s that bitch detective who failed to solve the case!” cried William Sanders, the brother of Bethy, who was considerably older than his sister.

  I knew they were talking about me at that point, but didn’t want to make it obvious. She sipped her drink, continuing to listen.

  “I agree with you there,” said Linda. “She deserves to be sacked!”

  Tracy Bradley finally had enough.

  “I’m going out for some air,” she said.

  “I’ll join you,” added Joseph Hart, quickly jumping up to follow her.

  I thought all of this was rather strange and began to have some suspicious thoughts about what they were doing. Perhaps they were plotting together to murder Barry Scott? It was certainly a possibility, this kind of thing had happened before. Given the mental state that the group was in, it was not inconceivable, although I didn’t want to get involved in any way. If they were going to do it, I couldn’t blame them.

  When I turned around, I saw Miranda talking to the woman in the red clothes. She looked like a tart, in my humble opinion, but since Miranda was chatting with her, she must be a decent enough person, thought Tammy.

  “Don’t say anything,” said the woman, whose name turned out to be Angela. “But I’m planning on getting with that man tonight!”

  “Which one?” asked Miranda, dreading the inevitable reply.

  Angela pointed to Barry Scott. Inside, I felt sick. Would Angela be his next victim?

  “Don’t Angela. He is a very dangerous man!” Miranda tried to warn her, but Angela didn’t listen. She then stopped talking to Miranda and approached Barry, who was still at the bar, and started dishing out flirtatious compliments to him.

  Five minutes later, I’d had all I could stand. I walked out, unable to face that man any more. Unfortunately, on my way out, I walked right up on Barry Scott kissing Angela around the side of the pub.

  “Ah, hello!” said Barry.

  I was so sick of it. By now, four or five other people were standing outside of the pub as well, most smoking cigarettes.

  “You make me sick,” I said, in a slow tone of voice.

  “Do I now?” he replied.

  “You know you won’t be free forever! Sooner or later you will be behind bars!”

  By now, Miranda and Pam had also left the building.

  “Really?” said Barry. “And why do you think that is?”

  “Because you’re a serial killer!” I retorted, so frustrated I couldn’t stand it.

  “We’ve been through this now Tammy,” Barry replied. “I didn’t kill anybody. You have no evidence of that, and you’ll never find any evidence of that. I’m sorry, but you’ve lost on this one!”

  “So, you’re confessing?” I said, trying to force it out of him once and for all.

  “No, ma’am,” said Barry, “just telling you the facts. You will never catch the killer if you keep going on at me. Let’s face it, even if I were the killer, you would not have been able to catch me, so that makes you a really crap detective, doesn’t it?”

  I hated that he was getting to me, but he was.

  “I’ll tell you something,” I said to him quietly, going right up to him. “I’ll see that you get what you deserve one day, even if it’s the last thing I do!”

  Barry said nothing and laughed.

  “I’ll get you!” I shouted, getting right up in his face. Suddenly Pam was right there, pulling me back.

  “Come on, get back inside,” said Pam.

  I was almost dragged back in, but didn’t go back into the pub.

  “I’ll walk home!” I said, extremely frustrated.

  Before I left, I shot one last dirty look at Barry Scott. He smiled and winked at me.

  “See you soon,” he said.

  “Do you think Tammy will be alright?” said Pam, back inside the pub.

  “She’ll be fine,” said Graham, more interested in drinking his beer.

  About twenty seconds later, a scream was heard. Everyone rushed outside, where they found Angela standing over the body of Barry Scott. She was in shock, and could not move.

  In the dark background, I emerged and saw what had happened. Barry Scott had been standing in exactly the same place as he’d been when I last saw him. Everyone gathered round the body of Barry Scott, not knowing what to think. I approached him and looked deep into his eyes. They were bloodshot. It was clear that Barry had suffered a terrible, painful death.

  Chapter 40

  We all returned to the station and Miranda was the first to speak.

  “So,
Tammy, what is the name of that perfume you always wear again?”

  “Euphoria,” I replied, enjoying the fact that she did not mourn the death of Barry Scott.

  “Alright, you’ve made your point,” said Pam, “but you know that we are going to have to investigate this murder?”

  “Yes, I know,” I sighed.

  “I hated that man! I don’t understand why we have to investigate,” Miranda said, rather defensively.

  “It’s our job,” I replied, my attitude pessimistic.

  “The first thing you can do is sort out the alibis of the five people at that table. They were relatives of Scott’s victims, so they had a strong motive. We need to establish where everyone was,” Pam said.

  “I’ll get to it,” I said, knowing it was my duty. If I didn’t at least try to work out who the killer was, I would be in deep trouble, and I didn’t want to ruin my reputation as a stellar detective, even if half the town wanted Barry Scott dead anyway.

  I tracked down each of the five suspects that same night, as they were still in the pub, excited about what had happened. They were celebrating, at least until I showed up.

  “Oh, look!” cried Tracy. “Here she is!”

  “Here who is?” I asked.

  “Well, you murdered Barry Scott, didn’t you?” asked Joseph.

  “Why do you think that?” I asked them, intrigued.

  “Well, you were caught shouting at him, and not a moment later, he was dead! It does not take a genius to work out it was you!”

  “Well, maybe you’re not a genius,” I said. “How much have you had to drink tonight? Look, as much as I hated him, the five of you had far stronger motives, didn’t you?”

  “But we have alibis!” said a drunken Bethy.

  “Listen, I’ll need to talk to each of you individually,” I said, looking at the five of them and thinking it easily could have been one of them.

  The first person I spoke to was Tracy. As the mother of a murdered victim, I didn’t think a prison sentence would cause her to suffer any more than she was suffering now, so I did not care if she had killed him. She had been through the worst thing that could ever happen to her already.