Sibling Rivalry Read online

  SIBLING RIVALRY

  Sibling Rivalry

  By E.A.Harvey

  The sister prepared to take the bullet may be the one pulling the trigger

  Acknowledgements

  Kathy my wife - For listening to every update and rewrite

  Ian my son - For trying to turn the writings of a Cockney into English Literature

  Janet Purdue & Penny Allen - Two Chingford girls whose names I used

  Janet Kerridge - Whose help was so important

  Yvonne & Pat - Friends who would like to play the twins in the film.

  Toni my daughter - For help in Word programs

  My good friend Gordon Haining - For edits and so much more

  Chapter 1 Paula

  The evening had started out as a romantic meal for two, but turned into a bloody nightmare! The cab dropped us outside the restaurant and, as I held her hand to assist her, I thought, how lucky I was to be with this lovely girl. I was soon to change my mind

  As we sat drinking the last of our wine after a first class meal I could never imagine what was to follow. A strikingly pretty young lady, sat at a nearby table, casually glanced over at me. She was in a party of four and they were clearly enjoying their evening. That was about to end very abruptly. My mistake, if you can call it that, was to catch her glance and hold it for a second too long. A smile of acknowledgement, which, of course meant nothing to either of us, was seen quite differently by Paula.

  Before I realised what was happening, Paula jumped up, her six-inch heels making her look Amazon-like, and raised her voice to such a level that everyone in the restaurant must have heard her caustic remarks. The poor young lady and her company looked at each other in total disbelief, her face flushed to a deep crimson, with head bowed tears running down her cheeks. Paula was like a dog with a bone, she would not let it go no matter how hard I tried to calm her down.

  As Paula became more incensed her language switched to Spanish and I prayed that nobody was able to translate. There were a few expletives which I had never heard her use; not even in the height of passion.

  One of the men at the young lady’s table rose to his feet and gave me an angry stare, I think if I had not been bigger and younger than him he might have confronted me, but I suspect he realised it would not be wise to confront Paula.

  He placed his arm around his young friend’s shoulders and as she stood she was obviously begging for him to get her out of this place as quickly as possible. My first thought was to apologize to the young lady but the thought of a knife in my back, from Paula, made me think twice. The four friends walked briskly to the door, hurriedly disappearing into the darkness without a backward glance.

  Paula was so wild that the scene which flashed before my eyes was one of Paula killing the poor innocent creature along with myself and everyone else in the restaurant.

  Paula calmed down quickly after the onslaught and soon acted as though nothing had happened and returned to her usual calm and beautiful self again.

  We had finished our meal, thankfully, because I am sure the restaurant management were about to ask us to leave. In the cab on the way back to her apartment we kissed passionately and as usual, she was insatiable and I wanted more of her. I quickly changed my mind as the last kiss included a bite to my lip which drew blood; her way of reminding me of my error of looking at another woman.

  At her door I kissed her a painful goodnight on the cheek; I was sensible enough to decline her offer of a nightcap fearful that Paula’s temper was not completely extinguished for the evening. Maybe I would try calling her tomorrow and apologise and arrange a meeting for the next weekend. A partial weekend had not really been enough. We had spent most of the time in bed, making love, and there had been very little time to do much else, but it had been amazing.

  Later, as the same cab dropped me at the station, the driver gave me a look which seemed to reflect my thoughts "She's lovely but dangerous" before offering me, in exchange for the fare, a tissue for my still bleeding lip.

  Paula’s temper was to prove to be the least of my worries.

  The rain started as I left the station but thankfully it was a short walk home.

  I wondered what Brian did over the weekend. Does he have a girlfriend a boyfriend any hobbies, what does he do with himself? My flatmate is a complete mystery.

  With this on my mind, I found myself at the front door of our shared lodgings.

  I fumbled for the front door key, inserted it into the lock and quickly came back down to earth at the thought of yet another long week at University, another week with my boring flat mate and Paula missing from my bed.

  Climbing the dark creaky stairs to the dingy flat was always a nightmare “I really must get out of this dump sooner rather than later" I muttered under my breath.

  Searching for a second key, my blood starting to boil “This place could do with a spot of fresh paint and a brighter light bulb. “Then, maybe, I could find the bloody key and a keyhole to stick the fucking thing into” I said out loud

  There was a smell of mildew and damp or was it just my imagination? By now I really was really upset with the world.

  I turned the key and shoved at the door. - It hardly moved. Another hard push with my foot, still just a small opening showing a glimmer of dim light from the inside, now I really was annoyed.

  "Brian" I shouted, "what have you done to this bloody door, have you got something stuck behind it”?

  My mood was quickly turning to extremely pissed off.

  "What are you up to? I shouted.

  There was no response from inside, I gave the door one, final shove with my shoulder and, as the door gave way I fell headlong into the room, I immediately wished I hadn't. The sight which greeted me would haunt me for the rest of my life!

  Hanging, from behind the door, his face puffed up and purple, lips blue, tongue protruding, feet loosely dangling just above the floor, pale and lifeless with bulging eyes staring down at me was Brian Peters, my flat mate!

  "Oh my God, what the fuck have you done, you prat, you stupid twat.” I loosened the tie from the hook and Brian's body slumped loudly to the floor and landed in a crumpled heap. I have never seen a dead body before and it unnerved me, no it scared the shit out of me

  Phone the police, ambulance, what else? I was in a state of sheer panic, my fingers wouldn't dial properly.

  Mouth to mouth or push on his chest? I had no idea what I was supposed to do.

  Brian why do this to me? More to the point, why do it to yourself? Why do it at all, you selfish bastard! Oh fuck, I realized that I should not have touched his body. What was I thinking when I let him down? Did I think that he would jump and ask me how my weekend was?

  What on earth am I going to tell his parents? I'm not even sure if I know his address, south of the river somewhere.

  I sat slumped in the armchair in a state of shock and disbelief and waited what seemed like forever. Blue lights flashing outside and the thud of heavy feet charging up the stairs brought me back to my senses.

  "They could do with some lights up these bloody stairs” I heard a gruff voice say, as large booted feet made repetitive thumping sounds.

  My whole body was in shock

  The uniformed officers had taken one look, made all the right noises, told me not to touch anything. A bit late for that I thought.

  Now it was the time for the senior guys, or in this case lady.

  Chapter 2 Sarah

  “Good Evening Mr Scott, I am Detective Inspector Sarah Daniels and this is my colleague D.S. Wentworth" She flashed her warrant card at me and gave me a cold stare which made me feel guilty and very inferior even before she started to speak.

  “You are Mr Scott are you not? That is what the officer downstairs infor
med us.”

  She didn’t give me a chance to answer.

  "Have you touched the body Mr Scott”?

  I just knew she would ask me that, I just knew it!

  "Yes, I am afraid I did, sorry” Her look said what a twat I was - I could only agree.

  "Did you find a note by any chance"?

  "No, only his body and that was plenty thank you".

  A look which said “Don't try to be a comedian” followed my remark.

  A neat whisky would be great right now, but the bottle on the table was empty. Brian had obviously drunk most, if not all, to give himself Dutch courage for what he was about to do!

  The half-eaten Pizza next to the scotch did not look at all appetizing. I think I would have chosen something more appealing for my last meal, if that’s what it was.

  "Hello Sarah, what are you doing out this time of night, all dressed up as usual I see” was the sarcastic remark which came from an elderly man who stood at the entrance to the flat.

  His greasy grey hair needed a brush’ a shabby old, well-worn, leather bag gripped loosely in his fist. "What have you got there"?

  "Hi Bones, sorry to get you out this late, but I am not so sure about this one and I am afraid our friend" she said pointing at me "cut our DOA down" "Oh what a stupid twat" I thought I heard him say; or was it just my imagination working overtime even harder?

  Bones, I guessed, was from the coroner's office or the morgue or something like that. Are they are always called "Bones" or is that only on TV and in films.

  The lifeless crumpled body of Brian was now being photographed. A clicking camera and flashing lights seemed everywhere. “Time of death could be anywhere between thirty-six and forty-eight hours” I heard Bones say. “I will not know for sure until after the autopsy, could be longer"

  The paramedics were patiently waiting ready to bag him up and take him to wherever they take dead people.

  Brian was the same age as me but seemed a lot older. We were complete opposites. How we ended up sharing this place was a mystery. As far as I knew he did nothing much with his life; no sport, no women, nothing. He did play chess but usually against himself.

  Brian, it seemed was not into relationships, and, as I spent most of my spare time with Paula, I didn't have much time for him. We actually got on well in spite of all this so maybe it's true that opposites attract, I am not sure why we got on, but we did, although it had crossed my mind that he could be gay, even bisexual. It never interested me enough to find out for sure.

  The detectives waffled on, in a droning way, to each other and, it seemed, I heard them through a mist. Oh please, for God's sake just leave me alone I thought. I had had more than enough excitement for one lifetime thank you very much.

  Sarah Daniels was my stereotype of a policewoman detective. The beige slightly grubby trench coat tightly belted around her waist. She certainly was no fashion icon I thought reflecting on Bones' comment. A good square meal and a few days at a health spa maybe would have been beneficial that is, if she would take the trouble; probably not. She was the type who is totally devoted to her job, or rather, had been in the past. Now I sensed indifference even boredom with her work.

  Her face was pale and bare, no makeup, puffy grey eyes protruding, staring wide-eyed through lack of sleep, making her facial features scrawny looking. She looked as though she needed a holiday. But Sarah Daniels was a very, very attractive woman underneath this veneer of sleepless nights and early mornings and I got the impression that she had reached a point where for two pins she would retire from police work.

  George Wentworth, her partner was just a gopher, and he held the grand title of dogsbody. He was busy writing into a tattered black leather notebook. I could smell cheap cigarette smoke and stale body odour wafting from his shabby clothes or was it just the smell of the flat. I have always wondered why plain-clothes police were usually shabby. Seems to me they should have stayed in uniform and not gone for promotion. It obviously was not for a wish to wear designer clothes. Or was it just the way I saw them? Or was it just too much TV, Colombo and that British female detective, what's her name, Vera.

  “Where were you tonight"?

  "How did you get that cut on your lip"?

  "Can someone corroborate your movements"?

  “What was your relationship with him like"?

  “Why did you not find him sooner"?

  "Is there anyone you know who would want Mr Peter’s dead"?

  “Did you want him dead"?

  “Were you drunk when you killed him"?

  D. I Daniels fired one question after another with hardly a second in between, never giving me chance to answer. Actually her questions were so fast I'm not sure I heard them all.

  She was watching me closely, watching my reactions so very carefully, and waiting to catch my body language reacting the wrong way. The questions came relentlessly. "I am sorry, but have I got this all wrong, did Brian not commit suicide"?

  "No Patrick, may I call you Patrick”? This was murder and made to look like he hung himself, but whoever did this made a very sloppy job of it. We cannot be one hundred per cent certain because his body had been cut down probably destroying evidence" She almost shouted the words "Had Been Cut Down" and she was looking straight at me; her grey eyes drilling into mine, she was certainly pissed off with me for making her job more difficult.

  Hopefully, once the corpse was taken away and the forensic team were gone, they would all go and leave me in peace to mill over the worst evening of my entire life. That is, of course, if she did not arrest me first.

  There would be no arrest and no rest either.

  "Let's call it a night shall we and continue tomorrow? Do you have somewhere you can stay for the rest of the night Patrick, and maybe for a few days? I will need your landlord's details. I take it you do not own this delightful place"? “Now, who is being a comedian” I thought. “Please keep me informed of your whereabouts I still have a lot more questions for you".

  "Yes, I can stay with a friend nearby, although he will not be too happy to be woken at this time of night" I couldn’t help wishing I had stayed the night with Paula, a nice warm bed and a nice warm body I thought. “Shall I call into the local police station in the morning "? I asked.

  "Yes that's fine, Get a good night's sleep and I will see you at New Road Police Station in the morning. Shall we say 10 am"?

  “Yes that’s fine” I answered. Inwardly I laughed to myself. Good night's sleep, was she bloody kidding me? Little was she, or I, to know it would be months before I could shut my eyes without seeing him hanging by his neck using one of my favourite ties.

  Chapter 3 Janet

  Janet Scott had never been called an Angel, in fact, she had been called the" Devil in Disguise” on many occasions, while her twin sister Penny was, according to Janet, "Miss Goody Two Shoes" and when they were younger "A Proper little madam"

  To understand the story I am about to tell you must understand that they are identical twins, identical, in every single detail, a mirrors reflection.

  In truth, even their father struggled to say who was who.

  I’m their cousin and I can’t tell them apart, actually I can but how is my secret.

  My name is Patrick Scott.

  Try to imagine the perfect woman, blond beautiful, blue eyes, full breasted; now multiply that by two that equals the Scott twins.

  Their brother Peter loved it when the girls as children played the “Who’s Who” game”

  Sadly as the girls grew older the twins grew apart. Janet became jealous of her sisters popularity, her jealousy became hatred.

  Penny always ended up with the nice boys and Janet hated her for this, and went out of her way to come between them one way or another, meaning that Penny always got hurt.

  Peter had no time for Janet and spent every waking moment possible with Penny. Janet only looked on her sibling’s relationship as strange and unhealthy and teased poor Peter relentlessly because of it.

>   Penny and I were very close and we often did things together. So when I heard about a dance at the local town hall I invited her to go with me.

  I collected her from her home in Chelsea, and the vision which opened the door to me was stunning; wearing a pink dress which fitted where it touched and showed just a glimpse of her firm full breasts, and heels which took her to about five-ten.

  We walked into the ballroom and all eyes were on her and also on me, I could read some of the guy's thoughts. “Who is that girl and who is that lucky bastard with her”?

  The dance hall was dimly lit and the music very loud. We had a few dances together and later I noticed friends across the dance floor. Taking her by the arm I led her over to them and introduced her to the crowd, but when she shook hands with Robert Heath I could see an instant attraction between them. He held her hand longer than normal, certainly longer than necessary.