What is going on? Someone is playing a game

  with me but why?

  I leave the shed and shut the door. I pause

  and open it again. There’s nothing there,

  except floating dust.

  “Never seen a shed before?” I hear Paul

  shout from the other side of his fence.

  I decide to ignore his sarcastic remark and

  stare into the shed.

  “Giles?” he speaks again.

  “It’s Ryan.” I reply.

  “Oh yeah, sorry mate. So what’re you up to?”

  “I’m looking in my shed.” I reply.

  Paul laughs and says: “Have a good day.”

  I do not reply. I wait for a few seconds and

  look round to make sure he’s left me alone.

  I walk toward the gate and look around the

  grass to find the splatters of blood that led me

  to the shed. Nothing.

  I did not imagine this, someone is trying to

  fuck me up here, I can tell.

  I march back inside and run upstairs to my

  room.

  Looking at the newspapers on the floor I

  know that this is all linked, the writing on the

  tables and the wall; the fox in the shed. This is

  all directed towards me. But what does the

  writing mean?

  I leave my room and walk downstairs to

  think of what it could mean.

  I pull out some A4 paper from my laptop bag

  and a chewed pen and sit down at the kitchen

  table. I lean forward and look at the scratch

  mark on the table. It’s written in the same

  102

  style and the same size as the one on the pink

  plastic table in the basement.

  I get up from the table and move into the

  sitting room, taking a wooden chopping board

  to lean on so I can write.

  I sit down in my arm chair and rest the

  chopping board on my crossed leg. I write the

  two phrases that I have found on the tables

  and my wall.

  Beaten hints me

  Beneath men sit

  These phrases make no sense whatsoever.

  Maybe they’ve been translated from a

  different language? That could explain the

  construction of the phrases. It’s definitely not

  Standard English, that’s for sure.

  I sit there for a moment and study the two

  phrases. I have no idea what they could

  possibly mean! I change around the word

  order and cross examine them, nothing. This

  is infuriating. I put the paper and the wooden

  board on the arm of the chair.

  I need a drink. I walk into the kitchen and

  pour some whiskey into a glass and knock it

  back.

  I take the bottle into the sitting room and

  look at the phrases I wrote down. Absolutely

  nothing enters my mind; I have no idea what

  they could possibly mean. All I can think

  about is finding out who did this.

  103

  Beaten hints me

  Beneath men sit

  What could they possibly mean?

  I have a few more swigs from the bottle and

  leave the house. I walk down the path and

  look straight ahead to the Cann’s. As I cross

  the road, I look down Mulberry Lane. The

  police are still parked outside the Brekken’s

  house and there’s no longer anyone else

  standing around, there are no police officers

  outside the house.

  My attention is distracted by the grubby

  house as I see the strange man standing

  outside, staring at me.

  I stand in the middle of the road and glare

  back at him. Fed up of this now. With no

  hesitation, I shout: “What are you looking at?”

  He continues to stare at me and doesn’t say a

  word back.

  I walk towards him, he stays still. As I get

  closer, he lowers his arms and turns away.

  “Can I talk to you?” I shout.

  He stands still, facing the door as I approach.

  I get almost to the footpath in front of his

  house and as I step onto the pavement, he

  runs inside and shuts his door. I run to his

  front door.

  I’m banging on the door with a clenched fist,

  bellowing: “Answer the door right now!”

  104

  With no answer and no curtain twitching, I

  take a step back to look up to the second

  floor, no signs of life there either. I walk

  around to the side of his house. He has wood

  and sticks stacked up to the side of his house

  with bits of rusted metal lying around on the

  mud and dead grass that passes for a lawn. I

  look around his back garden, it’s overgrown,

  there’s a neglected vegetable patch with

  bamboo sticks, wilted leaves and vines

  dangling onto the ground.

  I look around and try to find his back door.

  Looking through the vines and leaves

  covering the back wall of the house, I identify

  it. However, the back door is infested with

  woodlice and covered in vegetation.

  There’s no way I’m getting to his back door. I

  look up and down the door and notice

  something odd. I look down to the bottom of

  the door and spot a square hatch. I think it’s a

  dog-flap but I can’t tell. I don’t think he has a

  dog, but I suppose he could have had one

  before.

  There’s the sound of movement to the side

  of the shack. I turn my head and there is

  nobody there. I then hear a twig snap on the

  other side. This time I do not look, I will let

  them think that I haven’t heard them. I pause

  for a moment, waiting to hear another sound

  of movement.

  What should I do if it’s someone trying to

  attack me? Do I hit them? Do I run? Do I call

  for help?

  105

  I wait. I look back into the garden without

  looking towards the noise. I take a deep

  breath. My fists clench and my breathing is

  slow. I hear another twig crack which makes

  me look in time to see a fox. I look at the fox

  and it stares back at me whilst taking small

  steps towards me. It pauses and then runs

  into the woodland.

  I turn to walk back to the front of the house

  when I see two men walking towards me.

  Police, both officers are tall and thick set.

  “Can we help you sir?” one of them says.

  “No not at all.” I reply.

  “We heard you shouting at the resident of

  this house. What are you doing around here

  and why were you shouting?” The other one

  says.

  “Well he was staring at me and he’s been

  staring at me for the last few days so I

  thought I would confront him, is that against

  the law?” I reply or should I say the alcohol

  replies.

  “I don’t like your tone Mr…?”

  “Milligan, Ryan Milligan. Now if you don’t

  mind.”

  “Just wait one moment sir. What house do

  you live at?”

  “That one.” I say pointing to my house. “The

  one with the long gravel path up the slope.”

  “Mr Myers’ old home. I see.”

  The two officers stare at me.

  “Can I leave?”

  “On the condition that there’s no more

  trouble, not another word from you sir, we

  106

  are investigating a murder and we don’t have

  time for this. I suggest you stay away from

  this house and the man who lives here, do you

  understand?”

  “Yes I do, officer.”

  “All of you living on this cul-de-sac are prime

  suspects to this murder and we are keeping a

  close eye. We will have to write this down and

  to be quite frank I didn’t like your tone and I

  don’t like your whiskey breath. Good evening

  Mr Milligan.”

  I wanted to reply to these arrogant cops but

  left it and walked through the middle of them

  after they stood apart to let me through.

  I walk along in the middle of the road and I

  know there are eyes watching me. I look

  around as I go; the police officers are staring

  at me. I look to the grubby man’s house and

  see him standing at his window with his arms

  folded, also staring at me.

  I shake it off and continue to walk towards

  Sandra’s. I take one more look. The police

  officers have disappeared and the grubby man

  is no longer at his window. I can still feel his

  gaze. He’s standing outside his front door

  with his arms by his sides, still staring at me.

  I turn around and face him. He looks

  unaffected.

  With that, I turn around and continue my

  journey to the Cann’s.

  I stand outside their house and inspect it up

  and down, trying to work out which room

  Sandra’s in. I look back to the grubby man

  who is still staring at me. Suddenly, he hears a

  107

  front door shut and his expression changes;

  he looks petrified. His head turns sharply to

  the Brekken’s and he goes back inside his

  house.

  With no one watching me, I walk up to the

  Cann’s front door. I knock, but no one

  answers. I can hear music bellowing through

  the house; Sandra must not have heard me. I

  go around the back of the house and look in

  through the windows as I go. I stop as I see

  her dancing around the lounge in her

  underwear. All she wears is a purple bra and

  matching knickers.

  I don’t know why she isn’t wearing any

  clothes, but she looks great. I’m not

  complaining. I walk further around the back

  of the house and kneel by the window. I stay

  below the windowsill and poke my head up

  slowly so my eye level is above the windowsill.

  I look into the house and see her again, this

  time from behind. Her knickers turn out to be

  a purple thong.

  I duck back down as she turns towards me. I

  slowly walk back to the front of the house to

  see Sam’s Mercedes pull up. Shit.

  Sam opens his door and gets out of the car.

  His car bleeps as he presses a button on his

  key, he pulls the door handle to check it’s

  locked. He takes a look inside his car and then

  walks up the drive of the house. He looks at

  me and does a double take.

  “Ryan, what are you doing around there?!”

  108

  “I was looking to see where Sandra was, she

  didn’t answer. I heard music but I couldn’t see

  her.”

  Sam stares at me for a moment and walks to

  the front door. He bangs on the door

  aggressively and shouts: “Mum open up!”

  The music is turned off from inside and there

  is a moment of silence.

  The door begins to unlock and it opens

  slightly and then fully. Sandra stands there in

  her dressing gown.

  “Sorry I was er having a shower.”

  “Why is he around the back of your house?”

  Sam says angrily.

  “I don’t know Sam, maybe because I didn’t

  answer the door?” Sandra says.

  “Why are you here then?” Sam says to me.

  “Don’t talk to him like that. I invited him

  round because Simon wants someone in the

  house while he’s away. He’s keeping an eye on

  me.”

  “I was talking to him.” Sam says.

  “I just told you darling, stop being paranoid.

  You need to know when to stop working.

  Ryan is not a murderer, okay?”

  “Ryan.” Sam says, staring at me.

  “Your mum told you. Your dad asked me to

  look after her and keep an eye on the house

  for him while he’s away.”

  “Well I can do that, see you later Ryan.” Sam

  says stubbornly.

  “Sam, don’t be so rude. That is not your

  choice to make, this is my house and I want

  109

  him here. He makes me feel much more

  comfortable and safe.”

  “I can look after you better than he can.”

  “Oh yeah, well will you be here tonight?”

  Sam looks down and pulls out his phone.

  “No I won’t be here tonight, but my phone

  won’t leave my side, so you can call if

  something’s up.”

  “Okay I will, but Ryan will be here for most

  the evening, I might even ask him to stay

  overnight.”

  Sam stares at Sandra and shakes his head.

  “Fine whatever. Well I’ll be in my office for

  most of the night, I might drop round in the

  morning to check on you.”

  “You don’t have to do that.” Sandra says as

  she reaches for Sam’s shoulder.

  “Yes I do mum. See you tomorrow.” Sam

  Says as he turns and walks off towards his car.

  “Bye darling I love you.” Sandra says to Sam

  who doesn’t reply.

  “Bye Sam.” I say, once again no reply.

  “Oh come in Ryan don’t worry about him.”

  Sandra walks away from the door and I walk

  in, shutting the door behind as I enter.

  “I saw you dancing.”

  “Are you stalking me Mr Milligan?” Sandra

  says as she saunters towards me with her

  dressing gown open.

  “Well I didn’t get an answer at the door.”

  “Oh right yes, sorry. Did you like what you

  saw?” She says as she puts her chest against

  mine.

  110

  I push the dressing gown off her smooth

  slender shoulders and say: “I did. I bet I can

  guess what colour your underwear is.”

  Sandra laughs and leads me upstairs.

  111

  Shola

  Killing For Your Love

  Chapter 20

  I walk into the morgue to see the tall ebony man

  I found out his name is Don.

  Don is helping me out, every time a woman of

  Lizzie’s description comes in here, he tells me

  and I see if it’s her.

  I know what Don is doing is wrong, I shouldn’t

  be allowed to look at these bodies, but for the

  mean time he’s letting me. He knows if he stops

  I’ll make the authorities aware of this operation,

  and the additional felony’s he commits outside of

  work.

  Don is a dodgy man; he helps criminals cover up

  the wrongs they’ve committed. He’s the man to

  call if a body needs to be hidden, and stay hidden.

  He can dispose of all the evidence involved in a

  murder.

  I know this because he told me and I saw him do

  it once. He has saved many people by doing it,

  preventing them being from being found out…

  “So you have someone for me?” I ask Don.

  “Yes.” Don says looking to my feet.

  “What’s wrong?” I ask

  “We need to stop this. I can’t do this anymore,

  it’s too risky.”

  “Stop? No we aren’t stopping.” I tell him.

  “Let’s go.”

  “I can’t do it anymore, sorry.” Don says as he

  turns around to walk away.

  112

  “What the fuck are you going on about? We are

  doing this right here right now, let me see her.”

  “No.” Don says as he walks away.

  “Don, I’m warning you. Get back here right

  now. Show me the body or I’ll reveal all your

  little secrets.”

  “Do it then.” He replies to me.

  “Oh I will. I’ll kill your wife and seven year old

  boy whilst I’m at it. Mariah and little Dwayne.”

  Don paused and turned back to me. He clenches

  his fists and walks towards me.

  “Don’t even think about it Don.” I tell him.

  “Show me the girl.”

  Don unclenches his fist.

  “This way.” He says.

  I walk through the green double doors and enter

  a cold-room. The walls are white, as is the

  ceiling; the floor is a light blue. I see my breath

  in the cold atmosphere and the heat of Don’s

  head steams up into the freezing air.

  I look around me. The layout is similar to a

  hospital ward with eight beds: four beds against

  the wall on either side.

  They all have green covers over the bed, covering

  the bodies.

  Don walks to the last one against the right wall

  and looks to the folder attached to the end of the

  bed.

  “Here she is.” he whispers.

  Don lifts off the cover to reveal a blonde woman.

  I look to the eyelids of this woman. Her cheek is

  swollen and purple. Her neck still has finger

  marks across it. Her breasts and skin on her

  113

  chest are nonexistent. It’s as if they’ve been

  ripped off.

  I look further down to see her stomach that has