Beverly watched Conway drive away, her fingers resting on the ribs which threatened to burst from her. It was a risk going there, but it had proved worth it. She sat on the steps and gazed into the palm of her hand. Plus, as she’d always known, you can’t kill indiscriminately in a supposedly civilised society without taking risks. Where would the fun be in that?
Leaves floated off the trees shielding her from the rest of the street. She let her hands slip on to the key inside her pocket. Her original plan had worked: she’d acquired a way back into the house, but Conway’s unexpected day out had presented her with a glorious set of opportunities.
She checked the clock on her phone. It was ten minutes to eight. Most of the staff would be arriving at the school now. Other teachers were covering her lessons for the rest of the week, Conway had seen to that. And she was sure nobody would attempt to bother her in her office. They were all too busy stressing over their excessive workloads to worry about anyone else. Which meant she had plenty of free time to go exploring.
Beverly removed the key and stood. The trees around her provided the perfect camouflage for returning to the house unseen. She stepped into the grass, the damp green of a dewy morning squelching under her feet. An aroma of peach blossom infected her senses. She took a deep breath and made her way to the side of the building. There were fewer trees and bushes at the back, but there was enough cover, she hoped, to reach the door unobserved.
She slipped the key into the lock, the cold metal tingling against her skin, and twisted it once. Only it didn’t turn. It was stuck in one spot. She tried it again and got the same response.
‘Fuck, fuck, fuck.’
Beverly whispered the words, but stomped her foot into the ground. She turned from the key and peered at her hand, holding on to her chest as she took deep, slow breaths. It had been much easier than this at the Church place. But then, she’d had plenty of time to plan and prepare for that. This was an instantaneous reckless spur-of-the-moment action.
Her knees buckled and she sat down. Getting the key was great, but it was a waste of time if it didn’t work.
She got to her feet. It was better to find out now than tonight when she’d have walked there in the dark. She turned to the door and stared at the key again. Maybe it was one of those that needed a jiggle before it worked. There was a similar lock at the coffee shop. Perhaps the same person had fitted both.
Beverly rubbed her hands and blew warm air on to them. She grabbed the key once more, twiddling her fingers and twisting the metal. Then she turned it and got the same result. Tiny hammers drummed inside her skull, and all the disappointments of her life crashed through the shadows of her mind.
She removed her hand and blew on it again. If it didn’t work this time, she’d abandon the plan and leave. Her trembling skin touched metal and gripped it tight. She put all of her strength into it, imagining the cold material was the neck of Martha Glick, smiling as she recalled twisting Martha’s flesh as her younger sister looked on, horrified. It was only enough to leave her unconscious, but death would come soon after. Then she grabbed Kay before she could do anything. Not that screaming would have made any difference. Beverly knew the basement was soundproof.
The girl’s tortured face was in her mind, the memory of her gloved fingers squeezing tighter and tighter as the key twisted and turned in the lock. The door opened and she stepped inside. She smelt the meat from the Bolognese Conway had prepared for her evening meal. It was in the fridge, but the recent aroma continued to linger in the kitchen. Funny how she hadn’t noticed it earlier when she stole the key.
My mind is playing tricks on me.
Beverly searched for the cats, but couldn’t see them anywhere. Her parents had never allowed her to have pets, no matter how much she begged them. Conway’s cats were eminently strokable, wherever they were, but she had to ensure she avoided them. She didn’t want any of their DNA on her as evidence, and vice versa.
She went to the fridge and opened it. The Bolognese nestled on the middle shelf between expensive-looking cheese and a pasta salad. A clear slice of cling film covered the meat. It would be easy enough to return with a sufficient amount of poison to end Conway once and for all. She considered it briefly before dismissing it out of hand. She wanted to watch her suffer and die, and tainted food wasn’t going to give her that satisfaction. Beverly closed the fridge and stepped into the corridor linking the rooms together.
She returned to the living room where she’d spoken to Conway earlier. She expected the cats to pounce as she trod inside, but they must have been off somewhere else, enjoying their time away from their owner’s harsh gaze.
Her eyes darted around everywhere, searching for anything helpful. It wasn’t long before she found what she wanted. She strode towards the sizeable ornate desk behind the sofa. Resting on it was a laptop. She picked it up and settled on the couch. She was sure she’d come back to the house later, before Conway returned, and wait for her. The walk from her parents’ place would only take an hour, and there’d be enough shadows to obscure her features until the trees outside covered her in a warm umbrella of concealment.
Then she’d sit in the living room and shoot Conway as soon as she entered. The gun suppressor would dampen any potential noise, although she didn’t expect the isolation around the house and the street to be shattered by firing a weapon. She expected the first bullet to hit Conway in the shoulder. She’d reach for the wound and stumble back, probably into the wall or the door.
Beverly’s second shot would destroy Conway’s knee. She’d crash to the floor in agony, screaming in pain. Then, Beverly would move closer to her, ensuring she wore the plastic covers over her shoes, and kick Conway so she sprawled on to her back. Then she’d shoot her in the gut. She saw it all in her mind, precisely as she’d played it out beforehand with the Glick girls. Preparation was everything, making sure to eliminate all the possible unknown and complicating factors.
As she considered that, she once again wondered where the cats were. It seemed unlikely, but it wasn’t beyond the realms of possibility they might do something to complicate matters. She didn’t want them running around mewling while Conway spent the last remaining minutes of her existence listening to Beverly torment her. She needed to find where those animals were before she left and returned to school.
Before that, she started the laptop. It fizzed into life and she wondered how security conscious Conway was. She had no alarms for this expensive house, so surely she wouldn’t bother with a password on her computer?
Beverly grinned when the screen appeared and it didn’t ask for a login. She checked the time in the bottom corner. She gave herself twenty minutes, and then another ten for searching upstairs. The first thing she did was check Conway’s emails. She knew most people never signed out of their accounts when using a computer at home, and she wasn’t disappointed.
She skimmed through the newest ones, messages from retailers and food outlets, turning her nose up at Conway’s apparent obsession with the latest food fads. A few from the school governors caught her eye; why was Conway getting those in her private account and not the school one? But they were irrelevant when she opened and read them. Experience had taught her the things people tried to hide the most were inside the Deleted folder. And she wasn’t wrong this time.
Apart from the usual junk, she found more than two dozen messages from the same person, stretching over three months earlier in the year. The first ones included language and photo attachments to make her blush. The later messages were full of bitterness and bile that, if said out loud, would hurt your ears. It was a tale of a secret romance broken down into an apparently irreconcilable hostility. At least on his part. And his part was younger than Conway’s. Beverly had long ago become unshockable to the secrets people kept; after all, she had a few of her own, but this was a complete surprise. She had to read the name of the sender more than once to confirm it was him.
She relaxed on the sofa, wondering how best to use this new information. She’d come to the house not only to finalise her murderous plan, but to discover something equally important. Killing Conway was only going to be satisfactory if, like with Adam Church and the poor Glick girls, she had the right fall guy to become the scapegoat. And now she did.
Beverly created a new message and added the appropriate address for the recipient. Then she flexed her fingers and typed.
I’m sorry. I was wrong. I’ve missed you. I think we should get back together.
Then she hit the Send button. She doubted he’d be at his Inbox this early, so she didn’t expect an immediate reply. Beverly removed a USB pen from her pocket and attached it to the laptop. She opened the drive and found the app she needed. It took less than a minute to install the Trojan on to the machine. When it finished, she removed the drive and put it into her trousers. Once she got home and activated it, the Trojan would give her access to all of Conway’s files and accounts without her knowing.
She shut down the laptop and closed it. There was no need to go through the whole thing now she had the virus installed; she could peruse it at her leisure. But did the discovery of the secret lover mean a change in the timescale to her plan? She placed the machine back where she’d found it and went upstairs. There was still no sign of the cats.
Beverly discovered some interesting toys and publications in the bedroom, but there was nothing there to alter her strategy. She returned downstairs and stepped into the kitchen. The key was in the lock when the felines reappeared, staring at her from across the room. Had they been there all along?
She dismissed any more thought about pale cats and left the house, locking the door behind her. The moggies were up on the window ledge, peering at her as she headed back to school. Would she have the time to reel in her fish and finish off Conway tonight?
The key was warm in her hands as she saw the first step in her ultimate goal coming to fruition.