Beneath the Blood Moon

Darren Wills

Description

A woman gives birth in a dingy upstairs room. Her baby is bought illegally by a wealthy couple. Thirty-five years later, Dominic Walker, a teacher, is arrested for murder - but his story is too fantastic for the police to believe...Dominic and Laura are rebuilding their marriage after a crisis. Dominic has problems, but his marriage is everything. One day, when Laura disappears unexpectedly, Dominic is left to try and work it all out.Months later she returns home out of the blue, bringing paradise back to Dominic's life. But something's not right. Laura has changed.As events become ever more peculiar and Laura's behaviour more unsettling, the tension grows. Dominic begins to wonder just who his wife actually is. And all the while, danger is lurking.Death is coming. The question is, for whom? And how are the events of thirty-five years ago entwined with the present?

Sujets

• Psychological thriller
• Thriller

Informations

• Publié par: Troubador Publishing Ltd
• Date de parution: 04 mars 2020
• Nombre de lectures: 0
• EAN13: 9781838597467
• Langue: English

Extrait

Copyright © 2020 Darren Wills

The moral right of the author has been asserted.

Apart from any fair dealing for the purposes of research or private study, or criticism or review, as permitted under the Copyright, Designs and Patents Act 1988, this publication may only be reproduced, stored or transmitted, in any form or by any means, with the prior permission in writing of the publishers, or in the case of reprographic reproduction in accordance with the terms of licences issued by the Copyright Licensing Agency. Enquiries concerning reproduction outside those terms should be sent to the publishers.

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ISBN 978 1838597 467

British Library Cataloguing in Publication Data.
A catalogue record for this book is available from the British Library.


Matador is an imprint of Troubador Publishing Ltd

malevolence – the quality of causing or
wanting to cause harm or evil.

Dedicated to Ivar William Clarke (b. 15.05.2019).
Thanks to Mark Anson for his original idea.
Contents
After The Watershed
Birthwrong –Around 35 Years Ago
Sunshine Days
Good Sport
Here Comes The Night
Malevolence
Happy Family
An Uncertain Midnight
Malevolence
As It Should Be
Malevolence
As It Is
Malevolence
Intrusion
Malevolence
Whitby
Malevolence
Where And How?
Time Won’t Wait
The Unfamiliar
Staring At The Walls Of Heartache
Electronic Mail
Car
Malevolence
Solitude
Malevolence
Stumbling
Kate
Always Time For A Green Day
Malevolence
Staff Matters
Malevolence
Birthday – July 26Th
Malevolence
August Is A Wicked Month
Malevolence
Wickedness
JD Clover
Boomerang
Not Quite Paradise
Ban Taa
Daughter Dearest – A Family Portrait
A Mother’s Ruin
A Trying Time
Malevolence
Revelation
Leoni
Malevolence
Understanding?
Times-A-Changing
Malevolence
A Cat’s Tale
Remembering
Tensions
A Steady Unfolding
The Return Of The Police
Paperwork In November
Malevolence
JD On Divorce
For Better Or Worse
Malevolence
Malevolence
The Disappeared
Memories
Sunny Vale
Joggers Lane
Malevolence
Confrontation
Energy Time
In The Eye Of The Hurricane
After The Revolution
Malevolence
After The Watershed
I had killed her, and I was glad I had killed her.
“I have to remind you that you have been arrested on suspicion of murdering your wife, Laura Walker. I will warn you again at this point that you should not say anything in your defence that you won’t choose to rely on in court, since anything new you give in evidence will cause an adverse inference to be drawn.”
“I’m innocent.”
I lowered my head in desperation, but immediately realised that they might see this as some sign of guilt. I raised it again. I suddenly had the same attitude to these two that I had towards incompetent managers at work and, at the same time ironically began to feel like a misunderstood teenager in one of my classes. “You’re just not getting it.”
“Not getting what?”
“It’s not how it looks. I’m no murderer. I’m a teacher, for god’s sake.”
“And that makes you innocent?” Sarcastic smiling filled half of the room.
“Teachers do carry out serious crimes sometimes. Teachers can sometimes be quite murderous.” This was the junior of the two detectives, bespectacled and playing bad cop to his colleague’s worse cop.
“Boston, two years ago.” Taylor, leading the interview, now interjecting, had a knowing look on his face that was simultaneously irritating and intriguing.
“What?” Like so many times recently, I was in a world of confusion.
“Worked in a high school in the States. Maths teacher in Massachusetts. Pretty normal guy like you supposedly. Killed his entire family with a shotgun.” There was no emotion in the policeman’s voice, like he was reading out a shopping list. “Bacon, bread, and a bit of mass murder.”
“Well not this teacher,” I protested, albeit lamely. My wrists were aching from the harsh rubbing of the restraints, but I put that stuff to one side.
The senior Detective shook his head doubtfully. “No, Dominic. A job doesn’t stop you pulling a trigger and taking a life. Counts for nothing. On the contrary, could be that the pressure of the job might have been the thing that sent you over the edge. There’s a bottom line here. The circumstances more than suggest that you shot your wife.”
“But I didn’t.”
He was undeterred. “You’re looking at a life sentence. You do know that?”
I was undeterred too. “That’s not what happened.”
The senior detective, a superintendent according to his introduction, continued. “OK, if you say so. In your case, Dominic, we have a gun, gunshots, a dead body and a phone call made by you announcing the fact. Besides that, we have strangulation marks on the poor woman’s neck.” He paused, looking down at his sheet for something else to remind me of. He looked up. “You need to start co-operating with us now, if only to help yourself in the certain event of a court appearance.”
By co-operate, he clearly meant confess. “Granted – all those things. I’m still innocent.”
The officer gave a sigh of frustration. “Will you start then by telling me about your relationship with Laura. What’s been going on?”
I couldn’t help myself. I knew it wasn’t a good idea, but it was such a difficult question to answer in a clear succinct way. Instead, out came a loud uncontrolled laugh that I found difficult to stop, and which caused the two officers to turn and look at each other with mutual concern. “I’m sorry, but the answer to that question is so crazy. I did try to explain some things in the car.” I looked at both of their hard faces, full of their refusal to understand, before I spoke again. “The truth is, you need to know about Laura.”
“Tell us about her.” Taylor was naturally doing most of the questioning. Detective Superintendent Taylor, to give him his full title, had arrested me at the house, handling me aggressively, almost pulling off my arms to secure me despite my clear willingness to be arrested. I had him down as a rugby-playing Tory kind of a man, probably had a BMW, a Saab or some other car with plenty of poke, yet he was someone who was going to have to find a more imaginative side to his personality and do some serious listening if he was to own the truth. Was that going to happen? These people were notorious for not listening.
“She was beautiful.” I sat up straight in my seat. Worst case scenario for me – I was easy pickings for a police statistic, a solved crime to help a policeman in his quest for promotion. Worst case scenario for them – I might make the water muddy and create too many shades of grey. Or would they cling to a falsehood for the conviction? Of course they would.
“Did you love her?”
“I loved her.” I made a point of fully facing them. How would either of these two have coped? How would either have felt on this side of this table? Whatever could or couldn’t have been, Taylor looked really comfortable in his state of relaxed supremacy I couldn’t help thinking how things might have turned out differently if I had been a bit like him at certain times. Wisdom builds well on soft gullible errors, it seemed. I was betting that neither Taylor nor his junior had ever had a gullible moment in their lives.
Taylor leaned forward. “Of course you loved her. That’s why you killed her. You couldn’t have her, so nobody else could. Was that how it was?”
“Not at all.”
“Come on now. Had she betrayed you, Dominic? She was leaving, wasn’t she? Is that the way it went?”
“That’s not what happened. I think you need to start listening to me. This isn’t going to be one of those easy convictions.”
“Are you serious? I’ve never seen anything more straight forward and obvious.”
“No, you’re wrong. You’re going to have to do some actual investigating to get to the bottom of this one.” He would have to play his police tricks for a long time if he was hoping to prevail; I was light years beyond them. Another time distant from now, that kind of approach would have worked, but I had been through too much.
Taylor continued. “Was anybody else at your house today?”
“Nobody. Apart from Leoni.”
“Leoni who?
“Again, I tried to tell you about her on the way here. I never knew her surname. She was staying at the house.”
“Staying at your house and you didn’t know her name? How’s that work?”
“It’s easy. I never saw anything with her full name on, however hard to believe that is. You do need to find her though. She can unlock everything.”
“How long has she lived at yours?”
“A few weeks. I don’t know that much about her, but my neighbours will confirm what I’m saying.”
“Tell us more.”
She has brown curly hair, is about five feet two, and around thirty-five years old, I think, perhaps a bit younger. She was a big part of it all. You need to locate her.”
“How was she important in all this?”
I tried to tell them, but about three or four sentences in, Taylor interrupted me. His eyes were glass, showing no sign of a response. “When was she at the house today?”
“I don’t know. I mean, I didn’t know the time. She left when the shooting started.”
“So you’re admitting the shooting?
“Of course I’m admitting it. But I’m not guilty.”
I knew this truth of mine sounded outrageous, and their furrowed brows communicated how they thought so too. The Detective Sergeant, who had been introduced to me as