By Indu Kumar
There it was again. The creaking on the stairs. At first it was barely audible but gradually the footsteps got louder. Then even louder and faster like someone was rushing down the steps. Suddenly they stopped. A door creaked open then slammed shut.
Footsteps again, this time crunchy, like on gravel, slow then fast purposeful then became disorganized. There was a short pause. Then a new sound an unmistakable sound of shoveling. The clear sound digging a shovel driving in and then the soft sound of soil being dropped. At first it was at a steady pace, then vigorous becoming frenzied.
Now another new sound. Something was being dragged. There was heavy breathing in between. At the end of this a long pause. Then a thud.
A different sound of the shovel now. Grating of soil being picked up and the soft thud as it reached the ground.
Another pause, a sigh of relief, more footsteps a door closing creaking, floorboards then absolute silence as the footsteps faded.
Graham tossed and turned in bed. He was awake most of the night. He was very tired. This morning he was late for work. The chauffeur had already arrived at 7 am sharp, like he always did. Graham hurriedly got dressed and rushed out, coffee in one hand and briefcase in the other. He was the manager in a private firm and enjoyed all the perks of his job.
Graham had recently moved into this semidetached house 13 Wharfdale Lane. It was actually one house; the estate agent had explained but was split and sold separately like a semidetached. Therefore the 2 houses shared the same address and therefore a common drive.” There is somebody living next door” he said. But he could shed no more light on this.
Graham had been looking for a quiet locality and that is what he got. He had not seen any neighbours so far. Nobody had brought him a welcome casserole and no “nosey neighbour” had come around with bread and milk!
Graham was certainly not complaining as that was the only reason he chose to live in this area. A quiet area so he could get on with his life.
As for the mysterious “neighbour “he had yet to meet them.
He had been a bit concerned about living in such close proximity in a semidetached house. But the seller reassured him that there was hardly a “peep” from the neighbour It was almost like “they did not exist “he said.
He knew though, that there was certainly someone there. He could not see them but could feel them. Could they hear his kettle whistling, ping of microwave or even his telephone calls! Had somebody had their ear on the other side of the wall listening to everything. He thought he saw a net curtain twitching, a shadow go past the kitchen window. Was that a black cat sitting at the window, watching him? A wireless sometimes seemed to play softly and dim lights appeared at night.
But a week on Graham had not seen anybody and he was very happy with his house. More likely to be a little old lady with one foot in the grave. He imagined her wrinkled face nearly blind and deaf, with advanced dementia shuffling about aimlessly in the house. Probably couldn’t even see beyond her nose! A satisfying smile crossed his face.
He did wonder if he had imagined all this and there was a witch with a black cat in there! A bad omen for him.
Was this neighbour weird eccentric mysterious? Were they up to something? Something serious? Were they a danger to him? For his safety he needed to be a bit more alert he thought. After all this was a new neighbourhood and he knew nothing about the neighbours what they were up to. All he knew was that the neighbourhood was a quiet and sleepy one and mostly occupied by pensioners.
The chauffeur dropped him off at the end of the street. It had been a long week and Graham wanted to walk the rest of the way to clear his head. It is absolutely true that moving house is one of the most stressful things to do in life. He had been very busy the past few days.
He had been cooped up in his office all day and needed some fresh air.
He had just turned the corner leading to his street, when he noticed something strange going on in his street. He checked the name of the street to make sure it was the right one. All the streets looked the same.
There were 2 police cars double parked with blue lights flashing. He hurried down the street. To his surprise the cars were in his drive. He checked the address again. All semidetached houses look the same he thought. The cars were definitely on 13 Wharfdale Lane the house he lived in and the drive he shared with the neighbour .
Had something happened to the covert unseen neighbour? Was she found dead? Oh, dear he thought. Bound to happen one day and not unexpected. Did she die alone? Wonder if she had any family? Was she a loner a spinster with no friends at all waiting to die? Not seen the light of day for ages. Would he be asked to identify her? Or even pay for her funeral?
He would have to decline of course! He had not really met her or even seen her. His impression was she looked like any other little old lady he met.
He ran up his drive fumbling for his key’s hands shaking. To his surprise his door was wide open. He anxiously entered the hall. What greeted him took him by surprise? There were cops everywhere. They had turned the house upside down.
“What the ………” Have you found her? Have you found the old woman? Is she dead? He nervously stammered.
Before he could finish the sentence, he found himself surrounded by 3 police officers.
“Yes, sir we did.”
“I didn’t really know her you know “he quickly added.
“We found her alright” continued the officer.
“Your wife” he stated clearly.
One of them fired out loudly
” Empty your pockets “
“Hands in the air “as he quickly cuffed him from behind and a third read out his rights from the front. It all happened in a flash.
His protests were in all in vain!
He cast his eyes around.
I was to then that he saw them!
A small area in his back yard was cordoned off.
Several white clothed hooded and gloved people were busy at work shaking their heads and whispering with one another making notes or speaking into phones. Some were taking pictures from all angles.
Broken flower pots were strewn all over the area in disarray. The focus of attention was the shallow grave which had now been dug up. There was a mound of soil piled high next to it.
The game was up!
He was led away down the drive into the waiting police car. One of them pushed his head down with one hand and shoved him into the back seat.
As the car drove off Graham glanced back at his neighbour’s door.
To his surprise it was now wide open.
She was standing in the doorway the mystery neighbour, large as life. A petite woman her silver haïr was pinned in a bun on top of her head. Her face had fine lines and her eyes were beady and bright as a button and fixed on him. She was wrapped in a bright red shawl. She stood there slightly hunched with a walking stick and looked straight at him with a wry smile her arms folded and a black cat in her arms.
Unfortunately for Graham his mystery neighbour was a very astute and observant 80-year-old woman, Edna. Those who knew her well, said that nothing got past her. “Miss Marple “ they nicknamed her . With a curious and inquisitive mind, she took in everything that went on around her. She knew everything that happened around her and had helped the cops to solve thefts and crimes and even catch drug dealers in the past. Oh yes, they knew her well and she was a very good asset to them.
The estate agent had failed to mention this as “he was not from around here” but lived in the city.
Edna had been watching this man for a week. She remembered seeing him move into the house and saw him get out of his car with a woman. In her words the woman looked “very frightened and seemed unwilling to enter the house and he seemed to “be almost pushing her in against her will”. Her suspicions were aroused when there was no sign of her all week.
This had prompted Edna to fish out her pencil and notebook and binoculars, both of which were the retirement gift she had disappointingly accepted as she had been expecting a proverbial wrist watch. Little did she know that they would come in handy one day.
She had watched his suspicious activities for a week. She had seen him digging all night, dragging and dumping something in the garden. Unbeknown to him she was even able to record the whole event even the pot plants he carefully placed back on the shallow grave. At first, she thought it was a dog but she’d heard no barking and then recollected that there was no dog when he arrived. She said she was sure about this as Coco her cat hated dogs and she was concerned at first about it.
Edna was very pleased with her detective work!! Another crime solved.
“Keep it up Mrs. Smith or should we say Miss Marple” the cop grinned as he drove off waving from the open window. “Your tickets to the opera are on the way” he added as the car left the drive.
Edna smiled as she packed away the notebook and binoculars into the top draw.
“Until next time !!” she mused with a satisfactory smile!
Author Bio:
I am a retired doctor from A/E in Yorkshire. Always loved reading and writing stories along with my 6 siblings. Enjoy all authors but partial to crime!
Hobbies include walking playing guitar sing in a choir and paint . But writing beats them all and keeps my mind occupied. In a writing group with excellent writers and we all share our work.
Self published a short stories book this year. Introduced to publishing by a colleague recently. Writing on a given topic with a deadline is challenging and gives me a focus and a discipline to write. And it is working!
Contact Author:
Email: indukmr7@yahoo.co.uk
Phone: 07908616354
