An Accessory To Murder.

Note: I am English so some of the spellings may differ.


An Accessory To Murder.

A hot Monday morning- hotter than hell in fact; the sort of morning you dreaded if you were to be stuck in an office all day, or the sort of day you welcomed with open arms if you had holiday leave. And to Mr Redstone, this was one of the latter days. A whole week alone without the wife before he had to go back to the office again- hallelujah! There was a lot to accomplish this week too, so many things to do. He made himself a coffee, started to read the morning paper and awaited the arrival of the postman, who would bring him the items he required to complete the tasks ahead.

8:15am

“Ah, I have been waiting for you my friend.” Mr Redstone met the postman half way up his drive way.

“Not too long I hope?” the postman returned, a little laugh to enlighten the mood.

“No, no, always on time as ever. I see you have what I ordered there.” Mr Redstone noticed the parcel wrapped in brown paper.

“Yeah it’s a heavy son of a bitch too. What in God’s name is it?”

“It’s the collapsible work bench I ordered last week; going to be busy with it too. Is that the only parcel?”

“Yeah, ‘fraid so. What does the wife think about all this then?”

“Ha, she’s gone away. A business training course or something; perfect week eh?”

“Yeah, I guess it is. Lucky man. So, what’re you building?” the postman asked, eyeing up the parcel.

“Dunno yet, I ordered some other stuff, but I guess I’ll have to wait for those,” Mr Redstone answered, a little disappointed.

“Oh I see, just gonna let the creative side take its fancy? Blimey, I wish I was in your boots this week; could do with the break y’know, bloody hot working out in this heat.”

Mr Redstone smiled, his teeth glinting from the sunshine. “I just bet you would too,” he answered as-a-matter-of-factly, leaning forward to relieve the postman of the heavy parcel, his attention spent on what was inside.

“Yep, she’s all yours. Have fun Mr. Redstone,” the postman said, turning to walk back to his van.

“Call me Henry…” There was a brief pause after the sentence trailed off.

“Oh, Tom, the name’s Tom,” the postman returned over his shoulder.

“Yeah Tom, be seeing you then.”


Tuesday: 8:19am


Henry heard the familiar chug from the Royal Mail van’s diesel engine and made his way to the front door; as punctual as ever the little red van appeared and pulled up outside his drive. Again Henry met the postman halfway.

“Ah ha! I see you have another parcel. Good show Tom, I needed that today, is that the only one? Christ, my holiday will be over by the time the other one arrives,” he said, frown lines creasing his forehead.

“Yep this is the only one today… sorry Mr…”

“Henry…”

“Oh yeah, Henry; what is it your missing this time anyway?”

“Oh nothing too important, I can start without it I guess,” Henry answered, reaching out for the parcel.

“So what’s in this one? Bloody heavy too, you’ll give me hernia if you keep spending out like this,” Tom laughed, handing over the brown box.

“It’s a welding gun. I got the whole kit in there, the mask, the gas cylinder, the whole deal.” He spoke quickly as he struggled with the box, eventually putting it down.

“Welding eh? So, what’re you building?”

“Oh… well, not too sure yet you see. A bit of an experiment, always fancied a go,” Henry replied.

“No harm in trying I guess. Better let you get on then?”

“Yeah thanks, I’ll hopefully see you tomorrow with my other parcel,” Henry gasped as he knelt down and lifted the box.

Henry watched the mail van pull away and disappear down the road; turned and lugged the box into his house, closing the door behind him with an extended foot, bringing it swiftly back in before the door slammed shut on it.


Wednesday: 8:12am


Henry was already outside his house waiting for the post. He sat on his front step sipping strong coffee and reading a newspaper that was laid out across his knees, every so often leaving the headlines to glance down the road for the van.

As on queue, the van turned into his road and, not having any deliveries for anyone else, pulled up outside his drive.

“Good morning, good morning, I was hoping you would stop here today. My other package must have arrived no doubt,” Henry said, throwing the newspaper to one side and resting the coffee on the step.

“Morning. Yep, your other parcel’s here alright. How did the welding go then? Think of anything to build?”

“Yeah, I had a little project I was working on. It’s even finished,” he said, hands on hips, back arched, stomach protruding, like a proud child that had just finished building a sand castle.

“Blimey, you must have picked that up pretty smart-ish. So what have you ordered this time? And surprise, surprise it’s heavy,” the postman said through a sarcastic grin, lifting the parcel from the side door of his van.

“Tell you what Tom, come in and have a look. I’ll show you what I need that for too,” Henry said indicating toward the parcel.

Tom pondered this for a moment whilst looking back at his van; he seemed preoccupied with something, his face unsure and in two minds, then: “Yeah, why not, although I better be quick, hate getting behind y’ know.”

“I bet you don’t, you’re always so punctual; I’ve noticed that. It’ll only take a minute… come on,” Henry said, gesturing with a raised arm, “This way.”

Tom lifted the parcel and followed Henry inside his house, Henry closing the door behind them both.

“Excuse the mess won’t you? You see what happens when the missus has gone, ha!” Henry chuckled, as he took Tom through the house toward the adjoining garage.

“Where would we be without em?” Tom replied, noticing the mess built up over the last three days; he wondered if Henry could ever get by on his own.

“Just through here,” Henry said, entering the garage and stepping aside to let Tom through.

Tom noticed a musty burnt aroma that lingered in the air, “Christ what have you be doing in here? Smells bloody awful mate,” he said, turning up his nose.

“See what I have been doing and you’ll find out. My project is under that blanket on the workbench over there,” Henry said, “Go over and I will unveil the masterpiece I have created,” he continued, taking hold of a thin rope.

Tom looked a little confused, then he smiled, “Sure. Okay; but make it quick though, can’t be judging pieces of art all day with all this mail to deliver.”

Henry pulled down on the rope; it was attached to a pulley, which in turn lifted the blanket from the work bench.

Tom’s breath was stolen from him; his face a dumb stare. A naked woman was fastened to the work bench by four vices, her ankles and wrists, swollen from the exerted pressure. Her hair was burnt; blisters the size of large coins on her scalp and body glistened from the light peering into the room. A black, burnt hole penetrated her face where her nose used to be; her lips were missing revealing her teeth in a skull like grin.

Tom was on his knees, retching air, “No!” he managed through gasping croaks.

“It looks to me like you don’t think much of my work,” Henry said reaching up and selecting a hammer from its hook.

Tom managed a feeble curse, spitting salty saliva from his mouth.

“We’ll have to try and persuade you otherwise my friend,” Henry said, as though this were nothing but a casual mis-understanding.

Tom looked behind him at the main garage door as if it would be magically open.

“Going somewhere?” Henry inquired.

Tom looked back.

“Bastard!” he screamed, like a war cry as he ran at Henry.

Henry struck out with the hammer and caught him on the side of the head, as Tom tried ducking and going for Henry’s legs. He collapsed and, as he shook his head trying to recover from the blow, Henry bought the hammer down again.


8:54am


Tom became aware of a piercing pain that not only tore through the split skin by his left eye, but also seemed to thump from the inside out. He opened his right eye, the left swollen shut and sporting a yellowy, green sheen, and grimaced at the sudden stinging sensation. He was greeted with the view of a ceiling, a solitary, dull light bulb hung directly above him; adrenalin exploded through his body, and as he tried taking in gasping lungfuls of air, he found that his windpipe was obstructed, a gag tied around his head dug in the sides of his mouth; he could taste that it was once most likely used as a rag. His skin tingled and goose-bumped from the draught that ran over him; making him suddenly aware of his nakedness, he flinched and, pulling up his legs muffled a scream as the vices held his limbs in place, just like the women he had seen.

“Ah ha, Tom’s awake,” Henry whispered, as though Tom had indeed awoken from a deep sleep. Tom breathed heavily through his nostrils, grunting like a racehorse that had just won a Derby; his right eye was open wide and the white dominated it, leaving the iris a tiny island in a vast ocean.

“Don’t look so surprised Tom. You didn’t think it could go on forever did you?”

Tom could only shake his head, his breathing somehow managing to become more erratic.

“All good things come to an end, everyone knows that,” Henry said, reaching into his trouser pocket. He pulled out an object and held it out to Tom. “Recognise this?”

Tom didn’t respond, his heavy breathing answered for him.

“Letting her Royal Majesty’s postal service down not wearing your hat pin, I don’t know Tom, I thought you better than that.” Henry then threw the little gold and red brass badge across the garage. “Guess where I found it eh? I bet you can can’t you?”

Tom wanted to scream, grab someone’s attention nearby, but the only sound produced didn’t seem audible, he thought he could only hear it inside his head.

“I found it under Linda’s side of the bed. Funny, I thought, how did that get there? I even gave you the benefit of the doubt Tom, that’s the kind of guy I am,” Henry said, lifting the un-opened parcel Tom had carried in for him, and placing on a work unit by the door.

“No, I thought, my wife wouldn’t do that to me, not Linda, she’s just not capable of such a transgression as cheating. I waited around the back of the shed a few days and waited but you came and went. No, Linda just wouldn’t do it to me I thought again, but a sure as day reliable old Tom turns up on a Friday, bang on time, Linda’s morning off; she flutters her eye lids and in you go. I didn’t need to stay long to know what you were doing. You seem to satisfy women well don’t you Tom? I could never get her to scream that loud, well, not until yesterday that is, ha!” he laughed, tearing at the top of the box.

Tom watched Henry remove a pair of ear defenders and plastic goggles from the box. If only he could remove the gag, try and reason with this crazy man who now wore the items from the box, who now pranced around, hand on hip, the other held out in a rather camp way, a lunatic parody of a model on a catwalk. “Kind of suit me don’t they?” Henry hissed with a lisp, twirling on the spot and returning back to the box.”

Tom now feared the worst. He wasn’t going to get through this alive, this man was far gone; nothing was going to reason with a man who had passed any shred of sanity, a man who danced around the garage… a man who had burnt a hole in his wife’s face with a welding gun.

“It’s funny y’know. I bet you never thought all these parcels were helping me get rid of that cheating bitch wife of mine? Even funnier, you didn’t know this parcel in particular was for you did you? Shall we see what my generosity bought you?” Henry reached inside the box and pulled out a small chain saw; its jagged blade was only a foot or so long, although it didn’t look any less deadly.

Tom felt a moist warmth spread across his left thigh; his whole body trembled. Blind panic took over like a white blanket and he struggled, the vices gripping his ankles and wrists, pain not a factor as his imminent demise was staring him in the face.

“I’ll be with you in a mo, just got to fill her up.” Henry unscrewed the petrol cap, inserted a small funnel and poured in half a litre of petrol from a small plastic container. “That should just about do it I think,” he said screwing the cap back on.

Tom looked pleadingly at Henry with his one good eye. He had given up struggling, the vices were locked tight and he had only gained tearing the thin skin around his ankles. The only audible sounds he had produced were muffled grunts; there was no way he was going to get through to this insane man wearing ear defenders and goggles, the man who now held a chainsaw above his head.

Henry yanked at the rip cord and the chainsaw exploded into life, a fine blue mist of fume pouring from the tiny exhaust. “First yank huh? Not bad, not bad at all,” Henry shouted over the revved engine.

Tom’s chest heaved up and down, and he tried struggling again, a vain attempt for freedom.

Henry grinned and danced over to Tom like a ballerina, revving the chainsaw and lashing out at thin air as he went. A thicker stream of grey, blue smoke poured out the exhaust in a continuous toxic stream. “This is special delivery, just for you, ha, ha!” He stood above Tom’s head, the chainsaw deafeningly loud in his ears; Tom began to pray, a last attempt at staying alive.

“Well, for a punctual chap like you, you’re not going to be on time today.” Henry looked up and down Tom’s shuddering body, “Well, where shall I start first?” Henry continued, his eyes momentarily finding Tom’s manhood, that now, like Tom, wished it wasn’t there, all shrivelled up and small, as though it was trying to seek refuge inside, rather than outside Tom’s body. Henry red lined the chainsaw to exploding point and started to bring it toward the unfortunate body part; with a serious but mocking voice, his face donning a look of sarcastic concern he shouted: “No, the post is sure going to be late around these parts this morning; there’s no doubt about that my friend, no doubt at all!”



The End.