wall in a cupboard under the stairs, another place in our home that was filled with clutter.
When we were both satisfied that it was securely fixed to the wall we put most of the money inside, selected a memorable number for the combination lock and closed it. Hiding the thing was the easy part. There were enough boxes and items already under the stairs to cover it and make it invisible.
I breathed a sigh of relief. With the evidence of the murders burned and the money locked away I felt more relaxed and secure. At least now, if I came under suspicion there was no obvious evidence to convict me but I was still firmly under the belief that it would never come to that.
On impulse I suggested, “Let’s go out tonight, anywhere you want, have a really good meal and a bottle of wine. Let’s start spending some of that money we’ve had locked up in those damn bank accounts.”
Sandra didn’t need any encouragement. I suppose my profession had made me naturally careful with money over the years but now I had broken the rules, killed two people, I was looking at life from a new prospective. Instead of guilt and self-loathing I felt as though I had been set free from the bonds of normal society. We had always been a steady, stoic couple, bound by the chains of convention and habitual routine, now all that had changed. We were different people with new and unknown objectives.
“We could go up to London, go somewhere really swanky then stay at a hotel overnight, let our hair down.” Sandra looked at me with a sexy meaningful grin. “Or we could just go into Folkestone, go to that expensive place that overlooks the harbour then come back here and go to town in a different way. I’ll spoil you, make your toes curl.”
“That sounds great and it sounds better,” I laughed.
“And then I’ll start trawling the internet for our holiday of a lifetime. We are going to start living.” Sandra booked the restaurant for seven thirty.
At six o’clock, while Sandra was upstairs in the bedroom getting ready to go out I perched on the edge of a settee and switched on the television for the evening news. It was habit, a pattern I couldn’t break. The national news was the usual mix of wars, politicians arguing and new claims of paedophilia. I wasn’t really interested in any of it. It was the local news I wanted to see and when that started there was no doubt as to the main story.
The introductory music was accompanied by outside broadcast shots of the track in the forest where I had been that morning. Blue and white police tape was strung across the entrance keeping the camera crews to the roadside but with the mist almost gone you could see the police activity at the far end. White covers had been erected over the track where the bodies had fallen and police forensic officers in their white coveralls were moving around. The pick-up truck was no longer in sight, probably removed to be searched and dusted for prints.
As the music finished the focus turned to the pair of regular newsreaders sitting behind their desk in the studio. Jeff Long and Angela Burton, the news anchors both had long serious faces and it was Jeff who started the report.
“Good evening. Our main story tonight is a shooting that took place this morning in Lyminge forest. Two men were gunned down on a lonely track in the forest at some time around seven thirty. A single gunman was seen leaving the forest in a blue saloon car, the make of which is uncertain.”
A smile crept onto my lips. My car had not been identified.
Angela Burton took over the report. “A witness who had been walking his dog nearby saw the car as it sped away. The two victims were both shot twice and were found to be dead at the scene. The police are describing the murders as an execution type killing and are appealing for anyone who was in the vicinity this morning to come forward and speak to them. We are going over now to our reporter John Bishop, who is at the scene.”
The
When we were both satisfied that it was securely fixed to the wall we put most of the money inside, selected a memorable number for the combination lock and closed it. Hiding the thing was the easy part. There were enough boxes and items already under the stairs to cover it and make it invisible.
I breathed a sigh of relief. With the evidence of the murders burned and the money locked away I felt more relaxed and secure. At least now, if I came under suspicion there was no obvious evidence to convict me but I was still firmly under the belief that it would never come to that.
On impulse I suggested, “Let’s go out tonight, anywhere you want, have a really good meal and a bottle of wine. Let’s start spending some of that money we’ve had locked up in those damn bank accounts.”
Sandra didn’t need any encouragement. I suppose my profession had made me naturally careful with money over the years but now I had broken the rules, killed two people, I was looking at life from a new prospective. Instead of guilt and self-loathing I felt as though I had been set free from the bonds of normal society. We had always been a steady, stoic couple, bound by the chains of convention and habitual routine, now all that had changed. We were different people with new and unknown objectives.
“We could go up to London, go somewhere really swanky then stay at a hotel overnight, let our hair down.” Sandra looked at me with a sexy meaningful grin. “Or we could just go into Folkestone, go to that expensive place that overlooks the harbour then come back here and go to town in a different way. I’ll spoil you, make your toes curl.”
“That sounds great and it sounds better,” I laughed.
“And then I’ll start trawling the internet for our holiday of a lifetime. We are going to start living.” Sandra booked the restaurant for seven thirty.
At six o’clock, while Sandra was upstairs in the bedroom getting ready to go out I perched on the edge of a settee and switched on the television for the evening news. It was habit, a pattern I couldn’t break. The national news was the usual mix of wars, politicians arguing and new claims of paedophilia. I wasn’t really interested in any of it. It was the local news I wanted to see and when that started there was no doubt as to the main story.
The introductory music was accompanied by outside broadcast shots of the track in the forest where I had been that morning. Blue and white police tape was strung across the entrance keeping the camera crews to the roadside but with the mist almost gone you could see the police activity at the far end. White covers had been erected over the track where the bodies had fallen and police forensic officers in their white coveralls were moving around. The pick-up truck was no longer in sight, probably removed to be searched and dusted for prints.
As the music finished the focus turned to the pair of regular newsreaders sitting behind their desk in the studio. Jeff Long and Angela Burton, the news anchors both had long serious faces and it was Jeff who started the report.
“Good evening. Our main story tonight is a shooting that took place this morning in Lyminge forest. Two men were gunned down on a lonely track in the forest at some time around seven thirty. A single gunman was seen leaving the forest in a blue saloon car, the make of which is uncertain.”
A smile crept onto my lips. My car had not been identified.
Angela Burton took over the report. “A witness who had been walking his dog nearby saw the car as it sped away. The two victims were both shot twice and were found to be dead at the scene. The police are describing the murders as an execution type killing and are appealing for anyone who was in the vicinity this morning to come forward and speak to them. We are going over now to our reporter John Bishop, who is at the scene.”
The
Similar Books
