The first shafts of sunlight filtered through the dusty venetian blinds, as Mark awoke. It took several minutes for him to emerge from the fog of sleep sufficiently, to recall why he had such an aching head. The events of the night before came back to him in a rush. He opened his eyes and moved cramped limbs. His stiff body sprawled awkwardly on hard floor boards and he had a severe crick in the neck, due to his head being jammed up all night against a television cabinet. An early morning children’s show blared loudly. Putting his hand to his head, he felt a very large bump. It reminded him of the lump a cartoon character might develop after a hammer attack.
Clambering with difficulty to his feet, he looked around, fearing that Jason might be lurking somewhere nearby. After a cursory search, it was clear that he was all alone in the flat. Anxious to get out of there, he checked his usual pocket for his car keys. They were missing. Not to worry, he thought. He always kept a spare set hidden in a magnetic key holder under the car. But when he went outside, he found his car missing as well. Damn! Jason’s car was still in the driveway. Maybe he could find its keys in the apartment, and maybe some aspirin for his head? Returning inside, Mark began to search the kitchen. The television droned on in the lounge room. Irritated by the noise, he went in to turn it off, but he couldn’t find the remote control. He was in the process of searching for it under cushions, when the news headlines came on.
“ ..and a man who died yesterday in a single car collision has been identified as Mark York, son of prominent C.E.O. of the Trans National Banking Corporation, Robert York. Mr. York died when he lost control of his car yesterday afternoon and hit a pylon. The car was engulfed in flames. Police are investigating the circumstances of the accident. More news at nine o’clock.”
Mark turned around to look at the screen. He recognised the scene; a nearby intersection. Footage showed the burnt-out shell of a still smouldering sports car, wrapped around a steel pylon. He sat down as the news sunk in. Jason had stolen his car and crashed it. What’s more, he was dead. Mark was stunned. How would he ever prove his innocence now? The true culprit was gone, and he could expect no cooperation from Helen.
Finding the remote, he switched channels, searching for a morning news show. Then he went into the kitchen, took some headache tablets, made a large, strong mug of coffee, and sat down on the couch. In a few minutes another report came on. But to his horror, this time he was referred to as, “ …. the body, burnt beyond recognition, has been positively identified as Mark York, currently facing charges of embezzlement.”
What! Charges of embezzlement? Mark’s mind reeled in shock. He hadn’t even had a chance to tell his side of the story. Overwhelmed, he lay down on the couch, trying to absorb the events of the past twenty four hours.
Slowly it occurred to him that since everybody thought he’d died in the crash, no one would be looking for him. He began to relax and a plan started to form. He experimented with following the bizarre situation through to its natural conclusion. Firstly, the police investigation would be called off following the death of the major suspect. Secondly, the fraudulent transaction would be reversed. He was sure the firm could swing that, thereby satisfying the clients and avoiding a major scandal. What would happen next? He carefully thought things through.
Beth would be devastated of course. His next impulse was to call her to reassure her that he was safe. But he contained himself, thinking he’d better finish exploring all possible scenarios, before he revealed to anybody that he was alive.
Helen. Well she’d be happy. Until she found her new boyfriend had gone and got himself killed. But then she wouldn’t know, would she? It would be just as if he’d dropped off the face of the earth. Mark continued to play-out the likely events in his mind. He supposed that next, they would have a funeral. Then they would settle his estate. He realised that he had not thought to change his will since moving in with Helen. Everything was still to go to Beth and the kids, even his substantial life insurance. Good, he thought. Helen would receive nothing except the house, and without the means to keep up the mortgage payments, she’d have to sell that. He certainly didn’t want her living in the lap of luxury in his home.
Now Beth. Well, she was set to gain an enormous financial advantage if he died. …It was obvious. He would stay dead. For some reason he failed to realise the insanity of this plan. His break with reality was almost complete. Mark had no doubt that Beth, with a little convincing, would comply with the plan. However he decided not to tell her of his survival just yet. Being so honest, she might find it difficult to act out the charade without support. Best to wait until they could be together. It pained him to allow her to suffer such grief, but it wouldn’t be for long. Mark imagined her surprise and delight, when he eventually revealed that he was alive. But for now, he would lie low.
Turning the volume of the television down, he closed the curtains in every room. Finding some keys in the kitchen, he managed to deadlock the doors, set the burglar alarm, and even lower the steel shutters over the windows. Mark was impressed. Jason was obviously very security conscious. The place was like a fortress. The flat was also well provisioned with everything Mark might need for a few days. The perfect hideout. Mark noted the fresh flowers, and the champagne and chocolates in the fridge. He explored a little, discovering candles in the bedroom, and a freshly-painted spare room, sporting nursery friezes and soft toys. He found great satisfaction in the knowledge that Jason would not be playing Happy Families with Helen and Chance.
A third room was set up as a kind of office. Judging by the amount of impressive, state of the art I.T. equipment, it was clear that Jason was a bit of a computer nut. This confirmed Mark’s suspicions that the dead man was almost certainly responsible for hacking-in to his accounts. He sat down at the desk and encountered no problems accessing Jason’s computer. Living alone meant Jason hadn’t bothered to set-up passwords.
He surprised himself by first going to the York family web page, set up by his mother as a blog and a calendar of upcoming family events. Mark had never actually visited the site before. Nothing like a death in the family to bring people together, he thought. Bizarrely, he found a moving, personal tribute to himself penned by his father. An uncomfortable knot formed in Mark’s stomach, as he read his father’s words of pride and grief. Some of it surprised him.
“I profoundly regret that over recent years, I may not have adequately expressed to Mark how much he meant to me. It was my intention to rectify this situation, and to forge a closer bond in the near future. There will forever remain a wretched vacancy in my heart, knowing that I left it too late. To those of Mark’s friends and family that are left behind, do not repeat my folly. Shower those dear to you with your love, today and always. I would trade all my worldly goods, for the opportunity to tell my son that I love him, I value him and I am proud of him. God willing I will have that opportunity when I too meet my maker. Till then, may the Lord bless him and keep him, and have mercy on his soul.”
It was such an unfamiliar feeling, as tears welled in Mark’s eyes. He experienced an overwhelming desire to talk to his Dad; to tell him that he wanted it too, this closer bond. That he’d always found it hard to express his feelings, that the pressure of getting ahead left him little time to spend cementing family relationships. Like father, like son, he thought bitterly to himself. He looked around for a phone and, had he found one, would have used it. But there was no landline in the flat and he couldn’t seem to find his mobile.
The moment soon passed. Within a few minutes Mark thought better of it. His original plan was best after all. With a firm grip on his emotions he returned to reading the computer screen. There were details of his funeral arrangements. How peculiar to read them!
A knock on the door startled him. He held his breath, staying very still and quiet, hoping that the visitor would leave. The intermittent knocking carried on for a long time. Then Mark heard noises from the side of the house. He jumped at a sharp rap on the window directly in front of him. Then he heard Helen’s voice. Whatever would he do if she had a key?
“Jason, are you in there? Please Jason. Answer the door!”
More frantic knocking.
“Jason. What’s wrong? Answer the door.” A pause. “Mark’s dead. I need to talk to you. Answer the door. PLEASE! I know you’re in there.”
Half an hour passed, without Mark seeming to move a muscle. Eventually the knocking and calling ceased. Quietly, he sneaked down the hall to the front door and raised the shutters a fraction, just in time to see Helen’s car drive off. A note was stuffed under the door.
“Jason,
Mark was killed in a car crash yesterday. They were going to charge him with embezzlement. The police even think that maybe it was suicide. But they still seem suspicious. They came and took his computer away this morning. They don’t know about you. I think that we should stay away from each other for a while, till everything calms down. I’m sorry, but I think it’s for the best. I hope you’re O.K.
Love Helen.”
So, thought Mark. Helen’s giving Jason the old heave ho. She probably imagined that she’d clean up on both the life insurance and the estate, and didn’t much feel like sharing. Mark even felt a moment of brief sympathy for the man who’d been so fatally used. But it was fleeting. The pain of the false accusations was too raw, not to mention the little issue of the affair with his girlfriend, oh, and the punch in the guts. No. The bastard deserved to suffer, even die, for what he did. It seemed to Mark as if some universal force was serving out justice, and who was he to argue?