Blind Murder by Stephen Collier

Author:Stephen Collier
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Troubador Publishing Ltd
Published: 2022-04-21T00:00:00+00:00

20

Bingham drove up to the secluded terrace of cottages on the outskirts of Willoughby village. He drove along the dirt track that revealed the hidden terrace of cottages behind a small copse of ash trees. The place is so well-hidden that if you didn’t know they were there, you’d never be able to find them. All the better for his plan for her, which he had formulated over months of observations. He was lulling the neighbours into a falsehood about his Aunty Eleanor.

He opened the small green picket gate and walked up to the front door, on which he knocked. The door opened quickly.

‘Come in, Bingham, have a seat,’ said Eleanor.

Bingham quickly glanced around the room as he stepped over the threshold into the cottage. He followed Eleanor as they walked through the lounge into the kitchen. She offered him a seat at the small kitchen table. He went to sit down, but Eleanor turned her back to him as she went to fill the kettle with water.

He moved up behind her and grabbed her with one swift movement, swiftly snapping her head to the right, instantly breaking her neck.

Bingham watched in slow motion as she fell to the floor. He bent down towards her. Her eyes opened … She laughed.

By now, Bingham was used to this recurring dream. Every time he had it, the longer it lasted. More detail added each night, and it still disturbed him. He knew that it shouldn’t concern him, of course. He had done this sort of thing before and hadn’t had this same reaction. But it was never right. It never happened as he saw it in his nightmare – what about the talking? What about the tea? Not right. Not right. He looked at the clock. 4 am again. Always 4 am.

It will always be 4 o’clock until you admit your guilt to the police, Bing.

‘Don’t you ever sleep?’

You sleep, I sleep – you’re awake, I’m awake – it’s just how it is.

Bingham got up from the pit that was his bed and walked, naked, into the kitchen and got a caffeine drink from the fridge. He cracked the can open, taking two big swigs of the sweet liquid inside.

Is it no wonder you cannot sleep drinking this stuff? It only wakes us up.

He leant against the fridge, ignoring the voice in his head. He thought about what he had observed in the Kingsfields’ apartment no more than two or three hours ago. But there were no prostitutes on the street below his apartment to vent the sexual urges he’d had while watching the two of them in bed. Smiling to himself, he walked over to his computers and replayed last night’s events in Kingsfield’s apartment.

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