Perfect Murder

by Rebecca Bradley

How did I feel about what I had done? I had to feel something, I had to have some emotion about it, didn’t I? I couldn’t walk away and not have a reaction. You didn’t just end a life and walk away, get on with your own and have nothing. I lay there, tried to dig around for a feeling.

  All I could find was a deep fatigue.

  Maybe once I had had a good night’s sleep, today would come and sweep me up and maybe ruin me. Maybe the full body fatigue was hiding everything because there was no room for anything else.

  I turned the bedside light off.

  ‘I’ll sleep on it, Lilac. I’ll understand the impact tomorrow and I’ll let you know if I ruined my life today or if it is something I can live with. If me and you are going to be okay,’ I whispered into the dark.

  Lilac’s tail swished in response. It was as though she knew the seriousness of the conversation and recognised that a response was necessary. That this was a turning point for us.

  ‘Good night, sweet Lilac.’

  17

  The day came quietly into the room. It was five-thirty. I was awake and my body was alert and twitchy and not in the slightest need of bed rest.

  I looked to the side of me. I was alone. Lilac was gone. She had left my side at some point during the night.

  Turning to the window to look at the paleness of the grey-blue sky that was starting the day, I searched myself for any sense of how I might feel after yesterday now I had slept. I searched for the sickness in the bottom of my stomach and found there was just a hunger. A need for food and a good cup of tea.

  I checked my head for a pounding headache from overwhelming stress but it was free and clear, and as I lingered there an idea seeped in for an article I could submit to the paper. The effects of loneliness on crime. I wasn’t sure how I would go about researching it, but I liked the idea.

  Lilac was curled up on the back on the sofa when I padded to the kitchen and flicked the kettle on.

  ‘You didn’t want to stay with me then?’ I asked her. ‘Don’t worry, I’m not offended,’ I lied.

  She didn’t move. She didn’t even lift her head up.

  With tea in hand I switched on my laptop at the kitchen table and moved to the news site I used. I searched for Suffolk and for crime. I wanted to see if the death had been reported and if it was being considered suspicious. My chest tightened as I considered what reading this article could mean.

  This was my life. I was searching out events in my own life. What I was about to read was directly related to whether I had succeeded or if I was a failure.

  Again.

  The vice around my chest twisted again and I hitched in a breath as I continued to search for what it was I needed.

  Lilac watched me from the safety of her position on the sofa.

  As I scoured the site I focused on the crime section but I couldn’t see anything. I switched out of crime and browsed the general news area. And there I found it, tucked away, barely a paragraph. Just the basics.

  I knew from reading plenty of crime news reports that it would be expanded as and when they knew more.

  On Sunday evening a walker found the body of a male at the bottom of the Seven Sisters cliffs. At this time he is not being named. Police are aware and are investigating. The death is not thought to be suspicious.

  “The death is not thought to be suspicious.” Words that sang to me, in terms of what my future held. For me, for Beth and for Lilac – who still hadn’t looked at me and was still curled in a tight ball on the back of the sofa.

  I was not about to be carted off in a police car and held in a police station for days, in a room with no windows, questioned as I tired and became hungry for real food rather than the microwaved crap they served.

  It had gone to plan, he looked to have fallen off the cliff, looked to have walked too close to the edge.

  But if it was good that I succeeded, then why did it not feel that way?

  My mobile phone rang on the kitchen counter. The number displayed was Beth’s. It was only seven-thirteen. Why was she calling so early? What the hell was wrong?

  I snatched up the phone.

  ‘Beth?’ I shouted down the handset. ‘What is it?’

  ‘Calm down, Alice. I’m okay. I’m awake early. I didn’t sleep well.’

  I remembered her sleeping frame as I stood over her the previous night and wondered how much sleep she had managed to get. How many hours before she woke and lay awake for the night?

  ‘I missed you yesterday. It’s not like you to not visit on a Sunday.’ Her voice softened. ‘Are you okay?’

  I tried to speak but my throat was thick and I had to cough to clear it. I rubbed at my chest. ‘I’m fine, I had an errand to run that I’d forgotten about, I’m sorry. I did call in, you were asleep.’

  A gentle laugh. ‘I thought I sensed your presence when I woke. The house feels different. I can tell I haven’t been alone.’

  ‘I’m sorry,’ I said again. I was. I didn’t want to make her feel uncomfortable.

  ‘Don’t be. It’s nice you still came. And it’s why you have a key.’

  Lilac flicked her tail at me. Her eyes deep and still.

  ‘Are you okay, Beth?’ I asked.

  ‘Will you be coming around today?’ she asked in response.

  ‘You missed me?’

  There was silence down the line.

  Lilac flicked her tail again. I shook my head at her.

  ‘Of course I’ll come by. I need to go out to do some work, I’d love to see you when I’m done.’

  ‘If it’s no trouble.’

  So, with Lilac finally fed and my laptop packed in my bag I left the house and set off to the coffee shop to do some work. I would get some done and then call in to see Beth on the way home.

  I ordered my coffee and snaked my way to my usual table in the corner. It was quiet. The early morning rush had subsided and the lull before lunch had set in. This was the perfect time to come in to do some work.

  But work didn’t seem to be what I was in the frame of mind for. I opened the news site again and checked on the story to see if it had been updated. I craved information on it. The few sentences of this morning weren’t enough.

  On Sunday evening a walker found the body of a male at the bottom of the Seven Sisters cliffs. At this time he is not being named. Police are aware and are investigating. The death is not thought to be suspicious.

  It had been updated. There was more. Not much, but more.

  At nine-thirty five pm on Sunday evening a walker found the body of a male at the bottom of the Seven Sisters cliffs in Sussex. The male has been identified as twenty-two-year-old Jarrod Cooper. Cooper was a local artist and trainee paramedic. Police state the “the death is not being treated as suspicious. Enquiries are at an early stage and no further information is available.”

  The Seven Sisters cliffs are chalk cliffs that are constantly crumbling and there are recurring calls for signs to be made clearer about the dangers of standing close to the edge. The South Downs National Park Authority, which maintains the cliffs, states that erosion makes a fence impractical.

  Jarrod Cooper. The second person I had killed was called Jarrod Cooper and he was a trainee paramedic. Someone who saved or wanted to save people for a living. A person I had myself been in need of a few days earlier. How strange was that? Maybe it was meant to be.

  I drank my coffee. Looked out across the café, out at the few customers who were sitting in the shop. The mum with the buggy feeding her toddler a cookie while she sipped on her own coffee. A couple of women with shopping bags and a man with a laptop. He was wearing jeans and a t-shirt. Maybe a writer like myself. Maybe it was work and he could hot-desk work from anywhere.

  All of these people I could see from my position going about their everyday lives. The customers and the baristas, who were now chatting behind the counter as they wiped and stocked up the cakes and pastries. All oblivious to the killer who sat amongst them.

  Killer.

  How did I f
eel about that word?

  That it applied to me, who looked for all intents and purposes like the rest of the average people who were sitting in the coffee shop minding their own business.

  I took another sip of my drink and watched the world some more. Little in the way of words was getting written today. My mind couldn’t focus on the story, the fiction, nor could it go to the non-fiction article I had decided upon. All I could see was the edge of the cliff. The edge of the world as I looked out at the horizon. And the end of someone’s life as he tipped silently over the edge. Not a sound had escaped other than a surprised squeak as he first lost his footing. Or had his footing taken from under him.

  There had been no scream for help. No shock or fear as I’d expected. It had been bizarrely quiet.

  I hadn’t seen his face because he had been looking down over the cliff as I’d asked him to. So, not only had I not heard fear or shock, I hadn’t seen the fear or shock. He had fallen forward face first.

  With just that small squeak.

  There was no time for a backward glance. No time to look and ask what the hell I was doing to him. He was over and gone before either of us could think.

  It was all so fast.

  I hadn’t expected it to be so fast.

  So quiet.

  So silent.

  So easy.

  18

  I pulled up outside Beth’s, the courtesy car clean and immaculate which was the polar opposite of how mine was. I would have to try to keep it this way for when I handed it back. It would be easier than tidying it up, though all good intentions usually went by the wayside.

  I let myself in, dumped my bag on the kitchen counter as I called my arrival then filled the kettle and switched it on. With drinks made I moved into the living room. Beth looked tired and drawn. I took a deep breath, prepared to push through my own concerns and keep her afloat.

  I put the drinks down and bent over to kiss her. Her skin smelt clean, perfumed.

  ‘Karen been this morning?’ I asked.

  ‘How can you tell?’ Beth looked puzzled.

  I laughed. ‘It’s simple. Karen is the one who always makes an extra effort with you. She uses lovely products when she’s helping you get clean in a morning or the evening.’ I smiled at her. ‘You smell nice.’

  Beth reflected my smile back at me. ‘Well, I have that going for me. Who could resist me?’

  I looked out of the window. Gritted my teeth. Why did she do this?

  ‘I’m sorry,’ she whispered.

  I nodded and dropped into the chair beside her. ‘You know how much you mean to me. I hate that you do that to yourself.’

  ‘I know, I’m so grateful to you. Especially for coming today. It’s not usually a day for you to visit.’

  ‘But I missed you yesterday so why wouldn’t I? I don’t need your gratitude, Beth. We’re friends. We’re actually family. This is a two-way relationship, you know. I get so much out of being friends with you.’ And I did. She might not realise it, but she meant the world to me.

  She struggled forward and tried to grab my hand but she couldn’t quite reach so I lifted it and took hers. We held on to each other. A lump formed in my throat. So much I wanted to talk to her about but so much I couldn’t say. I wanted to tell her about the accident. About the boy and his mother. About the woman and her death and my part in it. About Hashim and how kind he was, how she would like him if she met him.

  And more than anything I wanted to tell her about yesterday. To tell her about the day on top of the cliffs. How cold it was, how the breeze cut through your clothes up there even though it was a nice day. How lovely people were in the pub. Mostly I wanted to tell her about Jarrod Cooper and how silent he had been and how that had surprised me.

  That he was a trainee paramedic, he saved people for a living and now he wasn’t going to save anyone again.

  But I couldn’t tell her. I couldn’t tell her any of it. Not because of what she would think of me, that didn’t come into it. Beth would love me regardless of what I did. I knew that. Our relationship was strong, but I had to protect her. I had to keep this to myself.

  ‘You look contemplative,’ she said.

  I desperately wanted to tell her part of it. Anything. How could I have done this and no one know? I hadn’t got away with it because they didn’t even know they had someone to identify. I rubbed at my chest.

  ‘Alice?’

  ‘Sorry. I was thinking about this old gentleman I met a couple of days ago. There was an accident on the way home and traffic stopped. We got chatting. He was lovely.’

  She looked concerned. ‘Was he okay?’

  ‘Yes, he wasn’t involved at all.’

  ‘Well, I’m glad it wasn’t you.’

  What harm would it do if I told her? Could it hurt her now? After the event.

  ‘What aren’t you telling me, Alice?’ she pushed, her fingers tightening around my hand.

  ‘I was involved in the accident, Beth.’

  Her breath caught in her chest and her hand went slack in mine before it suddenly tightened.

  ‘What the hell do you mean you were involved in an accident?’

  I told her about the boy running into the road, running for the ice-cream van. The woman who had swerved to avoid him and then ran into me.

  ‘You’re okay?’ she asked.

  I was losing the ability to speak so nodded instead.

  ‘And the other driver? And the boy?’

  I shook my head.

  ‘The boy!’ she shrieked.

  ‘No. No, the boy is fine. She missed him. The other driver, something happened to her. I don’t know what. A medical condition or something. She died at the scene.’

  She pulled me close, the arms of the chairs digging in between us. It was nice to be held by her though, warm and comfortable.

  ‘I’m so sorry, Alice. That must have been horrific. Why didn’t you call me? I know I couldn’t do anything, but I still have a voice, I could still have supported you, told you to come here and supported you here.’

  This woman was my world.

  ‘I didn’t want to put on you.’

  She slapped my hand.

  ‘Ouch.’

  ‘Tell me you’re putting on me again after all you do for me and I’ll slap more than your hand. Next time it will be your head.’

  She was serious and I liked that about her. She might be confined to her house, but what she couldn’t give in activity she more than made up for in real love. I was glad I had been able to tell her at least part of what I had been hiding from her.

  I turned to the window again. Looked out at the courtesy car parked outside. One secret that was no longer a secret. But the other – it was not only a secret, it didn’t even feel real. There’d been no acknowledgement it had happened the way it had, so what did that mean? Had I simply failed at what I set out to do?

  19

  I drove the same route home as I had on Thursday, my stomach tensing as I moved closer to the area where the boy had run out into the road. There was a police board there.

  Police. Accident.

  Thursday.

  If you saw anything please contact your local station and quote incident number 17985/19.

  Bile rose in my throat. I swallowed hard to prevent it escaping from my mouth. It was acrid on the back of my tongue. I scrunched up my face in distaste. I looked around and saw people moving about their daily lives oblivious to what had happened here a few days earlier. There was no sign of the boy and his mum. I wondered how they must be feeling. I wondered how the family of the woman must feel. If they knew the full story of the day. I could have told them if they weren’t aware. But I remembered I’d made the police statement. They knew the facts. They would have told the family. This was none of my business.

  Yesterday was my business, but surprisingly it felt even less so. I realised as I passed the police sign just how detached I’d become from the event yesterday. Is that what I was calling it, an event? What was
it police called it? I thought back to the sign I had passed. Incident.

  I didn’t feel connected to the incident. It was as though I hadn’t even been involved. With the car accident we, me and the woman, we had been joined by our mutual concern over the safety of the boy, but yesterday it was over too quickly. It wasn’t as though I had taken any time to talk to him, to Jarrod, to get to know him. The only reason I knew he was a trainee paramedic was because it had been reported on the news site, not because we’d had the conversation.

  If it didn’t feel real. Was it real?

  Was the person, the incident they were reporting on, even the one I had been involved in? Had I even been there yesterday in Sussex or had I dreamt it? It certainly had a dream-like quality to it. There was nothing solid and real about the day or the incident itself.

  Reality came with emotions, feelings. Pain, joy, anger, worry.

  I had nothing. Just a sense of disbelief.

  I parked the car and grabbed my bag with my laptop.

  Surely I should feel … what? Something, if I had done what I believed I had done. You couldn’t possibly do that, a quick shove and feel nothing.

  Could you?

  I unlocked my door and opened it. Lilac was there, her mood from this morning evaporated. She was pleased to see me. I bent over and tickled her ear. She leaned into my touch, pushed her head into my hand for more. I crouched down in front of her.

  This was feeling. I could feel my love for Lilac. It wasn’t as though I was devoid of emotion. There was Lilac, there most definitely was Beth. There had been Matt.

  And there had been Stephen.

  I clenched my jaw to hold down the wave of emotions that threatened to engulf me at the mere thought of his name. Gritted my teeth and took a deep breath through my nose. The nausea that always came flooded my senses and I closed my eyes, tried to ground myself, rubbed my thumb and my forefinger together, the contact of my skin and the friction of the movement, knew I was in the here and now and breathed slow and calm through my nose again.