Death At Willows End

by A. B. King

  “Did you just say what I thought you said?” I enquired as calmly as I could in the circumstances.

  “Assuming you thought that I uttered the word 'murder', then yes I did.”

  “Well, if this isn't some elaborate sort of leg-pull, which frankly, I don't appreciate, then surely you should be talking to the boys in blue?”

  “I doubt if they would believe me.”

  “Then what on earth makes you think I would?”

  “You have an honest, intelligent face.”

  “Which you obviously think has mug written all over it.”

  “I really don't know why you are being so stuffy about this, Neil. I'm willing to be your client, and you don't have to do anything you don't want to. Look upon it as just another problem. If you are a design engineer you must be used to dealing with problems on a day to day basis. Solving those problems is mostly done by exercising common logic, well; this is going to be the same. Look, why not let me explain the situation, and then you can tell me if you want to help. If you don't, well, I won't say any more, I'll do what you said; I'll close the door quietly on the way out.”

  One look at her face told me she meant it. Common sense also told me that I should offer to carry her bags out right away, and even offer to whistle up a taxi by way of a parting bonus, but the thought of the emptiness of the flat once she had gone was not something I wished to contemplate. She had only been in my life like a whirlwind for a few hours, yet already I knew I would do anything to extend that time as much as I could. I decided that common sense could take a back seat for a while. After all, just listening didn't commit me to anything, and if I strung it out long enough she might at least stay the night.

  “Ok,” I said warily, “I'll listen, but I'm not promising anything, mind.”

  “Right, then I'll be as succinct as I can. It will help if you would save your questions for when I've finished, ok?”

  “Ok,” I agreed, and settled back to watch that beautiful face as she launched herself into an explanation of what she obviously hoped I would be daft enough to get involved in.

  “Right,” she commenced. “My name you know, my address for the moment is of no particular consequence. Personal details; well, I'm single, twenty eight years of age, a director of several companies, many of which I own outright, and I am financially secure. I was born into a reasonably well-to-do family, and had a good relationship with my parents and identical twin sister Dian. I have no other siblings. My parents are now deceased. I can't tell you much about my life prior to the age of fourteen because I don't remember it, although I can tell you bits and pieces that I have since learned about my past. The reason for this memory cut-off point is quite simple; at the age of fourteen I suffered an accident that caused me to develop more or less total amnesia. I'll explain a bit more about that in a minute. It seems that I had a normal childhood, did reasonably well at school, and never got into serious trouble. I've been told that I was always the quiet one of the two, following my twin sister's lead in just about everything. She was extremely extrovert, whereas I was a shy little thing-”

  “I find that hard to believe!” I muttered, then quelled before the withering glance she threw me.

  “As I said, I was the shy little thing, and if ever I got in trouble with my contemporaries at school, it was my sister that came to the rescue. As I understand it, I never needed to come to her rescue at all!”

  “Did you say ‘was’?” I interrupted.

  “Don't but in when I'm trying to explain things. Where was I? Oh yes; it seems that as young teenagers the pair of us were enthusiastic girl guides, and rather severely bitten by the camping bug. Once in a while our parents allowed us to visit an approved camping site, but only in company with the guide troop, or occasionally under the supervision of an older and very responsible person in whom they had total trust. My sister and I had received a new tent and camping equipment for our fourteenth birthday, and we were naturally very keen to try it out. My parents had some friends in those days by the name of Gordon, and they had a daughter called Julia who was some three years older than us. It was during the summer holidays that we finally secured permission for Julia to take us for a week-end camp at a place called Willows End, which is a little village you may know of about twenty mile from here on the River Sharbourne. We actually chose a site close to the river about half a mile outside the village, and a matter of a few hundred yards away from a farmhouse. This farmhouse was owned by a family known to the Gordons, and who kindly supplied us with milk and eggs and things of that nature. Are you with me so far?”

  “I'm listening with ‘in-tent’,” I muttered darkly.

  “Very humorous, I'm sure, now pay attention. We reached the site on the Friday evening, and by all accounts things went well as we pitched our tents. I obviously shared the new one with my sister, and Julia had her own slightly smaller one. I gather that much of Saturday was spent in hiking up and down the river, doing all sorts of 'girl guide-ish' things, and we had a sort of camp-fire fry-up in the evening. Julia was in charge of this, and it seems that Dian and I set off to walk down to the river bank while she was getting things organised. As evening drew on, big clouds gathered, and it came on to rain. You have to bear in mind that what I'm telling you I don't remember, it is what has been relayed to me since the accident. Anyway, it seems that at about the same time that the rain started, a sudden flash of lightning struck our brand new tent. The whole thing was destroyed, and I was knocked unconscious and apparently flung several feet in the direction of the river. My sister had vanished, and Julia who was outside the other tent was knocked over, but as far as I know, not injured. Although badly shocked, she did what she could for me, and then ran to the farm where the Gordon's friends called for an ambulance, and a hunt was immediately started up for my sister. She was found about an hour later floating in the river, having died from drowning. The force of the lightning strike that had thrown me as far as the bank had obviously thrown her right in, and being unconscious she stood no chance. A terrible freak accident that robbed me of my twin.”

  She paused in her tale, and looked at me to see if I was taking it in. She was being deadly serious, and all desire to appear clever left me as I saw the latent pain in her eyes as she talked about the loss of a much loved sibling.

  “What a terrible tragedy,” I ventured, trying to imagine what her parents must have gone through when they learned of what had happened.

  “Yes, wasn't it?” she said enigmatically. “That is exactly what I thought when I eventually learned what had happened. I came round in a hospital bed, and at first I didn't know anything about anything, the shock of the lightning strike had produced total amnesia. I eventually remembered my name, I even remembered my parents after a while, but that was about all. I was in hospital quite a long time; I was pretty badly burned down my back, and I had to have skin-grafts. Eventually a few scraps of memory came back relating to my very early years, and that was when I first vaguely recalled that I had a sister. When my parents next visited the hospital I asked them about my sister. Although obviously delighted that I had at least remembered something, they were also distressed because that was when I had to be told what had happened; up to that point, on the advice of the doctors, they had kept the news from me.

  Now, strange as it may seem, I didn't feel that distressed by what had happened. Although we had apparently been inseparable up until the time of that accident, subsequent to it, well, it was almost like learning of a tragedy that had happened to someone I never really knew. Beyond the vague memory of having a sister, I actually remembered nothing at all about her. As I recovered I was shown pictures of her, and some amateur cine-film that my father had taken showing us together, and the thing that struck me was that she was a completely identical twin. We may have looked alike, but as my parents stressed, we were totally different in temperament. It was much later that the emotional impact of losing my sister became apparent, and it is a feeling that has never really left me
.

  What I was not aware of until my mother mentioned it some weeks after I came home from hospital, was that following the accident and the long recovery process, my whole personality had changed. From being the meek and submissive twin, I seemed to have swung completely the opposite way. This 'swing' was so marked that during my later teens I was in trouble more than once with any form of authority that sought to curb my aggressive and stubborn behaviour. I wouldn't let anyone have the last say, I was self opinionated, bossy, truculent, and very much inclined to say exactly what I thought and to hell with the consequences. This is a trait I have gradually learned to curb to some extent, but still haven't totally eliminated from my character I'm afraid.”

  “So I've noticed,” I muttered, and she favoured me with another warning glare.

  “Julia came to see me a few times during my convalescence,” she continued, “but it was like seeing a total stranger. I'd been told what had happened, yet I had no recollection of her, still less of what had happened, and nothing she said made any sense at all. She tried in her own way to help me to remember things, but it was hopeless. After I'd got home her visits gradually tailed off and soon ceased altogether. I think she felt very guilty about what had happened, being the person charged with caring for us youngsters. I know my parents, once they had overcome the shock and grief of losing a daughter, did everything in their power to ensure that she should not take any blame for what was believed by everyone to be a tragic accident that could have happened to anyone.

  Once I was back on my feet I resumed my education, quickly making up for all the material I had forgotten as a result of the accident, finally graduating from Wallingford University with a BA(hons.) I suppose it is fair to say that I have not suffered too much physical damage as a result of the accident, the skin-grafts have taken well, although if you study my back you can still see the marks.”

  “I'll be quite happy to provide you with an up-to-date assessment,” I remarked hopefully, and catching another warning flash in her eye, I added quickly; “If I happen to see you one day in a bikini.”

  “As I said, not too much physical damage, although the personality change has persisted; I still tend to be a little aggressive at times, which may account for my success in business. Unfortunately it does not help much in personal relationships; men seem to resent me biting their heads off. I have few friends, mainly because I'm suspicious of women, and although I have a woman's normal sexual interest in the male, I refuse to be dominated, yet I can't stand yes-men either. Probably the real reason I have few friends is the fact that I have a big mouth, as you have already discovered, and invariably tend to say what I think. Well, whatever the reason, such friends as I had before the accident very quickly vanished from my life. Probably I would have gone on for years in much the same way, perhaps forever, if something quite remarkable hadn't occurred that has changed my whole outlook on what happened to me.”

  “You got your memory back?”

  I withered before those flashing eyes.

  “We are not a very close family,” she continued, ignoring my observation, “although I do have an aunt who lives not that far from here. She is the only sibling of my late father, and a few years younger than him. I don't recall that we ever did much visiting or socialising whilst my parents were alive, and certainly I hadn't seen her in the early years following the accident. I met her briefly at my father's funeral, although I wasn't paying too much attention to anything at the time. Anyway, amongst my father's effects were some books that he wished to be given to his sister, and I knew that one day I would need to do this. I have to confess that I was so busy and self-centred it slipped my mind for quite a long time. Eventually I got around to it, and a couple of weeks ago I decided to pay my aunt a flying visit and deliver them.

  Well, Aunt Sophie, as she is known, was very pleasant and polite, and as I had the opportunity of studying her closely for the first time in my life, I could certainly see the family resemblance to my father. She made me welcome, and we were sitting in her lounge drinking tea when her own daughter, my cousin Tracy, came home. She is a pupil at the local college, and is only about three years older than I was when the accident had happened. I looked up as she came into the room, and as I set eyes on her I received a shock such as I have never experienced before. I thought I was seeing a ghost; for one awful ghastly moment I thought that it was my sister Dian come back! I dropped the cup I was holding, and thoroughly alarmed both my aunt and my cousin. It was more than just the likeness; I mean, I had seen so many photographs of my late twin I shouldn't have been surprised if a close relative didn't bear at least some degree of resemblance, but it was so much more than that, it was, oh, I don't know, like being struck all over again by lightning!

  For several moments I couldn't even speak, but finally I pulled myself together, and once I had explained what had happened I was able to smooth things over. What I couldn't tell them was that in the exact moment I had set eyes on my young cousin, it was like a double image, and the second image was propelled back from me with an expression of sheer terror on her face as she suddenly disappeared from sight! It suddenly hit me after all these years that my sister had not been blown into the river by the force of the lightning strike; she had either been pushed or thrown in!”

  “You mean?”

  “Exactly, my sister didn't die by accident!”

  I looked at her once again in astonishment. “And you think,” I said slowly, “that just because your cousin looks like your dead sister, and that the shock it gave you somehow put this idea into your head, you are now convinced she was murdered?”

  “I do.”

  “Well, quite candidly, I think your earlier observation is correct; I wouldn't have thought that there was anyone at all in the police force would ever believe you; they'd laugh and dismiss such a claim as sheer imagination. Be logical for a moment; you saw your cousin, it was a shock, and quite naturally your imagination did the rest! I mean, who on earth would want to murder a fourteen year old girl by throwing her in a river?”

  “That is exactly my point, it makes no sense, and that is why I want your help.”

  “Oh, Danny; really, what on earth do you expect me to do? If there had been any suspicion at the time that the death was anything other than natural, the police would have been on to it straight away. With nothing but your imagination to go on I'd pretty soon prove to you what I've been saying all along; I'll never be a detective, although in the process I may well prove I'm an idiot!”

  “It isn't all imagination. Just listen; I haven't finished yet!”

  “There's more?”

  “Of course!” she retorted, then continued; “I was so unsettled by what had happened I spent several sleepless nights trying to make sense of that frightening image, and then one day I decided to do something about it. I did a bit of digging around, and I discovered that there had been a post mortem carried out on my sister, and after a bit more digging and string-pulling I managed to get a look at the pathologist's report. Don't ask me how I managed this, because I won't tell you. Death was caused by drowning as I had been led to expect, and the report also confirmed that she was virgo intacta, with no signs that her clothing had been interfered with. What I thought particularly significant was the fact that there were no burns. Not only had she suffered no burns, even her clothing was un-singed.”

  “So?”

  “Oh, for God's sake, Neil, use your brain!” Danny snapped in exasperation. “She had been standing near the same tent as me, the tent was destroyed, I was badly burned, yet there was no singeing on her body at all! Doesn't that suggest that something strange must have happened?”

  “Well, yes, I grant you it is odd, but it is well known that lightning can be very freaky, I've read of cases where one person has been struck down, and another close by hasn't had a mark! In any case, who says she was standing that close to you when all this is supposed to have happened?”

  “Which is precisely the question that occur
red to me. Ok, so it's not proof-positive, but I suspect that my sister wasn't standing near me as I have been led to understand when the tent was struck. For that matter, I cannot even be certain how close to the tent I was standing either, but I must have been quite near, and certainly closer than she was. Much of my clothing was apparently incinerated, and I was burnt all down my back, so it is not impossible that I was standing just outside when the lightning struck, and so possibly my body shielded hers?”