Monday 14 September 2015

The Girl



‘So tell us about the girl,’ the policemen said to me again.
‘There is no girl,’ I repeated for the umpteenth time.
‘There is a girl,’ the woman said, ‘we know there is a girl, we have her body parts.’
‘Okay, you say there’s a girl,’ I said, ‘but she doesn’t have anything to do with me.’
‘So how do you explain all the trips to the bins?’ the male copper asked.
‘I was sorting out my flat, a spring clean, had lots to throw away.’ I said telling the truth but not being believed.
‘You know our teams are in your flat now, they will find blood, they will find body parts, no matter how good your spring clean was.’ The woman said. ‘Better you tell us now and not wait for the evidence to prove it.'
I shrugged, there was nothing I could say.
‘Tell us about Joanna,’ she said.
‘Joanna?’
‘We’re told she hasn’t been seen for a little while,’ he said.
That bitch of a neighbour, she’d obviously put two and two together and come up with 3456.
‘Joanna left me for one of your lot,’ I said, bitterness dripping from my voice. ‘ Two weeks ago.’
‘One of our lot?’
‘Yeah, a cop, Mark Lewis, you know him?’
They nodded in unison. They obviously did know him.
‘So why isn’t she answering her phone?’ the male one stared at me.
‘She’s in Jamaica,’ I said.
They looked at each other as if to say well that’s convenient.
‘She’s there with Lewis,' I said, ‘I’m sure you can check.’
At that moment there was a knock on the door and a finger beckoned the two detectives out of the room.
‘Interview suspended,’ they said, halting the recording equipment as they left.
This was a nightmare, just 3 hours ago I’d been happily sitting in my flat feeling sorry for myself. I’d emptied the place of all the things that reminded me of that bitch and then given the place a thorough clean. It felt good to be free from the clutter that she’d created; cushions, throws, and other soft furnishing that had no use except to make women happy. The place had a manly feel to it now, it felt like a bachelor pad reflecting my new status. I was setting down to watch a rerun of the 2005 Grand Slam game when the police came to take me away.
My two interrogators had been gone about ten minutes, I was hungry and tired and my hands still smelt of the disinfectant from cleaning. When they came back they had grey, grave looks on their faces.
‘Who is she?’ they asked spreading the photographs of bloody body parts on the table, it was no wonder they were looking grey, I guess I must have gone grey too looking at them. ‘Is it Joanna?’
I shrugged; I didn’t feel well looking at the horror photo story in front of me. The policewoman looked at her folder and took one more photo out. It was a body part but it wasn’t female.
‘And who is he?’ the male asked.
I gagged, severed genitals has that effect on a man.
‘I don’t know,’ I managed to croak.
‘You’re lying,’ the woman said. ‘Do these belong to Joanna and Mark?’
‘How should I know?'
They call it helping police with their enquiries, but I wasn’t being very helpful, how could I be?
‘This is a crazy coincidence,’ I said. ‘Yes, I put bin bags in that bin, but someone else put the body parts in.’ My protests fell on deaf ears, they were as convinced of my guilt as I was of my innocence. A uniformed cop came in and handed the two a sheet of paper. The policewoman looked at it and then at me.
‘Mark Lewis and Joanna Coombs were meant to go to Jamaica,’ she said, ‘but this is a passenger list from their flight, look who didn’t make it?’ she slid the paper over to me. Their names were highlighted with DNT written next to them.
‘DNT?’ I said.
‘Did not travel,’ the man said.
I shrugged, this was getting weird, I could feel the palms of my hands getting clammy and my shirt was wet beneath the arms. It was all circumstantial evidence so far, but it was not looking good.
‘So tell us about the girl,’ the policeman said again.
We sat in silence, them staring at me, me with my head bowed, my eyes felt heavy, my mouth dry. The room smelt of guilt. I swallow hard, tears in my eyes. This felt like a dream, it had felt like a dream since Jo had said she was leaving me for one of my best friends, shattering my heart. I’d tried to grin and bear it and when that hadn’t worked I’d tried to gin and bear it and then I'd snapped.

‘I killed her,’ I said in a voice barely audible but loud enough to make my two companions gasp.

2 comments:

  1. I am sorry but whenever you write a story like this I can't help remembering this piece:

    http://onehundreddaysofgrumpiness.blogspot.com/2014/10/day-67-im-killer-not-lover.html

    hehe:-) hope you are not planning to murder anyone:-)

    ReplyDelete
  2. ' I’d tried to grin and bear it and when that hadn’t worked I’d tried to gin and bear it and then I'd snapped.'

    ReplyDelete