Nightingale Songs by Simon Strantzas Page A

in the time it took me to leave my house, and I half wondered if the whole town had not already converged there. Few of them moved as I approached, and despite my obvious displeasure at what was happening, fewer still seemed at all concerned to see me. Even Mrs. Rutherford was there, standing defiant and judgmental. I put on the most authoritative voice I could muster. My doctor voice.
    "Please, move along. Give the man some peace."
    "He's a killer, Dr. Reilly. Having high-price attorneys doesn't make him innocent." Those around her who were listening nodded in agreement. The rest continued to whisper their gossips amongst themselves.
    "It's not true, though. The media, the stories, all of them are false. All you need to do is look into it. I assure you, Mr. Burden is as innocent as you or I."
    She eyed me suspiciously. "You, perhaps."
    Then, before I could respond, I heard a bloodcurdling noise, one that silenced everyone around me. It came from my own home, and it was a scream of such terror that it froze my very core. Mrs. Rutherford's brow furrowed as she looked at me, but I didn't stay to find out the reason. Instead, I ran back to my home, back toward my friend's side. Behind me, part of the crowd must have followed.
    With every step I took, I knew I'd made a mistake. I shouldn't have left Alistair alone in his state. He was still far too susceptible to his imagination, to the guilt that the world broadcast onto him. He took in their suspicions and made them real, and as I climbed the stairs towards him I realized I'd been wrong to think he could overcome it all so easily. Part of my brain heard the stampede of feet behind me, and I suppose in hindsight it only made things worse, but my concern for my friend blinded me to that possibility, and I wonder now if that was not the final straw in what happened. Part of me hopes not, but if it wasn't, then I have to give way to an explanation that still doesn't make sense to me, even though I was there to witness it first hand.
    I burst through the guest room door to Alistair's aid and stopped immediately. The room was frigid, and what I saw -- or at least think I saw -- I surely couldn't have. There on the bed lay Alistair, his hands pressed into the pillow that covered his face while the rest of his exposed body struggled. And yet, just beside him, I thought I saw shadows bent like two pairs of hands, and they too were pushing the pillow down. Alistair was kicking out violently, and I ran to grab the pillow from his face but I could not budge it. He held on too tightly, pressing it with unbelievable strength in some bid for release from all his torments. And yet as I tried in my panic to stop him it almost seemed as though he were trying to help me, as though he was in fact working to push the pillow away. But I knew that was impossible. I tried with all my strength to stop his suicide, but could do nothing -- even when he stopped kicking it took a few moments for me to work the pillow free from his clenched fists. When I did, it fell away from his face to reveal a rictus of terror lying beneath. I stepped back, horrified, and then, in the darkness of the room, I saw two shadows move. I'm not sure what cast them as there was nothing nearby, yet the pair started towards me with a sound like the whisper of silk, as though they were night made solid. I took a few steps back but they came too quickly and rose to overtake me. I lifted my hands instinctively before my face and shut my eyes, and then heard the sound of Mrs. Rutherford behind me, screaming.
    "What have you done?"
    I opened my eyes to see a crowd of people standing at the door, staring in at my dead friend and me.
    Things did not go as smoothly as I would have liked afterward. Though it was agreed that I'd had far too little opportunity to asphyxiate Alistair Burden between the time his screams were heard and I was found with his body -- not to mention the lack of any clear motive -- there was still the suspicion that