Chapter Thirty

“MARTHA PEABODY,” Richard spoke the name aloud. “That one was a right bitch and she should get her desserts. I always believe in looking after people who have ’looked after’ little ole me.”

Richard played with the page in his notes from the school and made a note of the telephone number.

“Is that Mrs. Peabody?”

“Yes, it is. Who is that and what do you want?”

Richard was surprised at the blunt way the lady spoke.

“I wanted to talk to your daughter, Mrs. Peabody... I am an old friend of Martha’s. We went to school together.” he said, but no sooner had he completed his sentence than there was a burst of tears on the other end of the line before the telephone was cut off. Richard tried again, but the line was engaged. He thought of an alternative idea as he telephoned St. Michael’s to speak to Janine Mercer

“Hello Miss Mercer... Janine... It’s Richard Bright here. I... h... h... hope you are alright.”

“Yes, I’m fine, Richard. What can I do for you?”

“W... w... w... w... well, I know you’ll think I’m... v... v... v... very forward, but I thought I would phone one of... th... th... those girls on the l... l... list you gave me, but I couldn’t understand... wh... wh... what... went wrong as all I got was someone... c... c... crying on the phone.”

As he was talking a van passed him in the street, where the sign on the outside of the van read ‘Save a life today‘ ‘Please give Blood’,

“That’s very strange, Richard,” replied Janine Mercer... “who was this girl? I think you must have broken her heart over the phone and that’s why she was crying... You Casanova.”

Richard explained that it was Martha Peabody that he had tried to contact and he had tried several times only to find the telephone engaged after the flood of tears when he first tried. There was a pause before Janine Mercer spoke again.

“Richard... Richard I am sorry, I should have taken Martha’s name off that list. Regretfully, Martha died as the result of an awful road accident, about three weeks ago. I am sorry Richard. I really am.”

Richard didn’t know whether to smile or scowl when he heard that news, but he thanked Janine before he put the telephone down.

“Justice will out and whatever goes around comes around,” he cried as he scanned the list for his next victim.

“Good afternoon. May I speak to Heather Ramsay please?

“Yes, this is Heather... Who’s that?”

Richard coughed lightly wondering what next to say as he cleared his throat.

He knew he would have to speak very slowly and deliberately for this one... There was no such thing as a stutter as far as Heather Ramsay was concerned, and he knew that the name he was about to use... the pseudonym would send her heart over the moon, but as he was ruminating, a cat squealed somewhere outside and he clamped his hand across the mouthpiece.

“Bloody pest,” he said... “No, No, not you Heather. I don’t think you will remember me. My name is Schofield... Brian Schofield... We went to school together and I was wondering if you’d like to escort me to a dance... say tomorrow evening.”

Richard thought he could hear a little squeal of delight as he hunched his shoulders and grinned into the phone, but a dustbin lid rolled out near the telephone box and settle itself on the pavement outside with a bang.

“Brian Schofield... Brian Schofield who was in my class at fifth form?” Heather asked and then she gave another little squeal. “Oh! Brian I’d love to come. Did you say tomorrow evening or was it tonight?”

“Tomorrow, if you’re free around 7.0 pm. if that’s O.K?”

“Yes, yes, Brian... Oh! I was washing my hair tomorrow evening, but I can do that tonight. Yes, that will be fine Brian. I look forwards to seeing you again. Bye Brian, Bye... Yes, yes, I know the place. I know it well...”

Richard replaced his phone into its cradle and smiled wickedly. Brian Schofield was every girl’s heart throb when they were at St. Michael’s and he felt sure that the less than plain... if not quite obviously ugly, Heather Ramsay would respond positively, but he would have to be careful to keep his coat collar turned up around his neck when he met her... and maybe wear a soft hat. That’s what the handsome Brian would have worn for such a date. Richard felt sure of that.

Heather turned up twenty minutes early and Richard could see her standing at the arranged spot with the street light showing her ugly features once more and he wondered how she had the bloody cheek to call him plain... The nearby canal glistened in the moonlight as it splashed it’s way merrily into the river.

“Psst... Psst... Over here,” he called out in the dark and Heather Ramsay fluttered her eyelids.

“Brian,” she called out as Richard approached and he grinned, wondering what she would do if he showed his face, but he knew that wasn’t necessary. What he had to do didn’t require that she should see his face. She would only have to feel his hands...

“Aaahhh... aaahhh” she croaked before she fell and Richard picked up her body and threw it into the canal, kicking a shoe after her that had fallen from her foot.

***

It was nearly two weeks after... that an unidentified body was dragged from the river and again, police suspected foul play, although there was sign of any sexual motive as the body was fully clothed...

“What a pity,” sneered Richard as he played another of Chopin’s pieces on his violin... and his hand was as steady as a rock...