The chains of obsession, p.36
The Chains of Obsession, page 36
He threw his holdall, with the knife, gags and ropes in, over first. Then he sprang on to the fence, clutching at the top rail. He pulled himself easily over, dropping softly in the piles of leaves on the deep shadow side of the fence. They were dank and wet and smelled of tree mold. He rubbed his hands, flicking off the few that had stuck, and began to move through Bert's own short bit of woodland towards the house, which was without lights anywhere and was only visible by the moon. Oliver's head still swam giddy with whisky, but he was clear about his objective. There was no more Jane. And no more life for him even if he could go home now and be free to live in that big empty house till he was old. He had killed the one person who gave him any real pleasure in living. And all because he'd gone off the rails over Annie. He hated Annie now and wanted to make her suffer. She had rejected him, and now he must humiliate her, abuse her, destroy her. If she screamed, and her children came into the room, he would destroy them too. He would show the little tinies that they were right to think he was a monster.
Sylvia raced her car home as fast as she could drive it. It was her turn now to tumble and sob into the house, and Melanie to run to her. But as soon as Melanie saw the state of her, she broke down too through contagious emotion. No words were spoken but Melanie felt the same distraught pain and knew that the worst had happened and Jane was dead, and they clung to each other and sobbed their hearts out freely, where they stood in the hall. When Sylvia had cried herself out, they made their way into the living room, where Sylvia fell face down on the settee, and buried her face in a green velvet cushion. Melanie kneeled on the floor beside her with an arm around her shoulder, squeezing affectionately, each time Sylvia whimpered. As soon as they could talk coherently they discussed what should be done. They had got to send the police to get Oliver, they knew that. Melanie knew that it was impossible now for her to extricate herself from the situation. Most of her clothes were still at the house mixed up with Jane's on a chair beside the bed. She couldn't leave Sylvia to handle it alone, because the police had to know how she found out about it. There were clues all over the place. Sylvia said had she been brave enough and not so distraught while she was there, and not frightened that Oliver would have murdered her too, she would have got Melanie's clothes for her and somehow helped her to stay out of it. She understood the scandal that would fall on her. She thought Melanie was a decent and unselfish person to be willing to go through this. Had Melanie not come to her, she might have been able to stay out of it. Sylvia decided she was not going to let her ruin her life, just because she herself was hurt by her affair with Jane. She had already shown great spirit and kindness. They finally worked out that Melanie would dress in as close an outfit to her own as Jane had in her wardrobe, and Sylvia would drive her to where she'd left her own car, which was in a cull de sac near the park. It was up to Melanie then to tell her husband some cock and bull story and hope that he'd believe her, and that the clothing she had abandoned would not lead the police to her. The final act would be that Sylvia would phone the police, to say that an unknown woman had phoned her to say that she had been raped by Sylvia's husband and that her friend Jane was probably being subjected to the same thing. Sylvia had driven over there, found Jane, and driven back full of hysteria, and now that she'd calmed herself down, she was reporting the murder.
Oliver had used his big bladed knife to cut the main telephone line into the house, then was annoyed that he couldn't find an easy way in. He wished he'd gone down to his workshop for a crow bar. He settled for breaking one of the Georgian panes in the kitchen window by padding his anorak against it, and hitting it in the centre with the butt of his knife. There was a tinkle of glass as it fell on the cloth covered table immediately under the window.
Bert opened his eyes. He wasn't sure that anything specific had woke him. Switching his bedside lamp on, he looked at the clock. It was one o’clock. He left the lamp on and gradually his eyes closed again.
Oliver noticed when he came out of the kitchen, that the door to Bert's bedroom was wide open. Apparently he never closed it. He assumed when he saw that the light was on, that Bert must sleep with it on all night. Stealthily moving to the stairs, Oliver felt quite exhilarated. He had a feeling of power. That he was fully in charge of the situation. With his knife in his right hand, and the open black holdall in the other, he climbed the soft carpeted stairs to Annie's room.
Her door was open too. Silly to leave doors open, he thought. If the house caught fire it would fly threw it. He crept into her room, gently closing the door behind him, and could just make her out in the darkness. He stood at the side of the bed, looking down at her sleeping face, with her long hair spread out on the pillow.
Oh yes, my lovely. You're going to be fucked tonight as you never have before, and as you certainly won't be again! He put the holdall down on the floor and took out the cord to bind her arms, and the sticky patch to put over her mouth. While he concentrated on pulling the backing off the sticky patch, which made a ripping noise as it came apart, Annie opened her eyes. So intent was Oliver in looking at what he was doing, he didn't notice. All Annie saw at the side of her bed was a figure hovering above her and she let out an almighty scream. Oliver dropped the patch in sudden fright, but instantly recovered and dived on the bed and smothered her scream with his hands.
Bert heard a scream, and it came from upstairs. It was too powerful for the children. It was either Kerry or Annie. He reached for the special chrome rails at the side of his bed which he used to swing himself into his wheelchair.
Kerry and her boyfriend Colin were in the middle of passionate sex when they heard what they thought was an animal scream from out in the garden. They hesitated, not breathing, Colin in mid stroke. When no other sound followed the first, they carried on to rebuild their pace.
Annie knew now that it was Oliver who held her. He turned her over onto her face, forcing it into the pillow, and sat astride her. She was in her nightie, but he was yet to undress. He'd left his anorak on the kitchen table, all he had to remove once he'd tied her up and gagged her, were his jeans and light polo sweater. Keeping one hand pressed to the back of her head, Oliver reached down and managed to find the sticky patch. He than pulled her head back by her hair and clamped it over her mouth. There'd be no soft gentle kisses this time. She was going to get a taste of good old hickery dickery!
Bert fitted his wheelchair into the stair lift and pressed the button to start the electric motor, which would wind him slowly to the top of the stairs.
Now that Oliver had got Annie gagged and silent, he knew it was easy. He could fuck her all night if he wanted to, and not a soul would know till morning. This is what he should have done the day he had her over at the house. Things might have turned out different then, for everybody. Quickly he dragged her arms up her back and bound them tight. Then he ripped the bedclothes away, where she had been covered from the waist down, and exposed her in her flimsy nightie. He was about to slide his hands up her, shoving her nightie up to her shoulders, when the door opened and there was Bert in his wheelchair. Oliver turned to look at him. 'Oh good! We've got an audience!' And he reached down and pulled Annie's nightie up over her head.
Bert scooted his chair round the bed like a rocket and grabbed at Oliver, who tried to wrestle Bert’s hands behind his back, so that he could tie him into his wheelchair. He was going to show Bert how a female really liked to be fucked. How Annie longed to be fucked, and how she ought to be fucked. But Bert was much stronger in the arms than Oliver had anticipated. Bert had been strong in the arms before he was injured. He'd been a carpenter joiner ever since he'd left school. And since using a wheelchair he'd become almost athletic in the upper body. The fury that came into him now defending his wife from rape, was formidable.
'You bastard maniac!' He took a grip at Oliver's wrist and pulled him forward for a swipe across the jaw. Oliver felt as if his teeth had shattered. So heavy was the blow. But Bert would have been better pulling him into a strangle hold. That way he would have still had hold of him. Instead, Oliver was knocked over into Annie's dressing table, and was able to get back on his feet, and jump across Annie on the bed to the other side. Annie rolled herself round, unfortunately naked, to see them fighting and to try and defend Bert by kicking out with her legs.
Kerry and Colin climaxed right on the crash of the dressing table, having heard some shouting just preceding. They got out of bed and Colin opened the door a touch to try and hear what was going on.
'Close the door Colin, you're not supposed to be here. If they ever find out I'll die!'
'But what was that shouting and the noise?'
'They might be having a row. It's none of our business. Come back to bed!'
'Well do they often row?'
'I don't know. Just come back to bed please!'
Colin got back in bed and Kerry wanted her kisses at the end of love making, if he really cared for her. They carried on kissing.
Oliver realised he wouldn't be having Bert as audience now, and needed to put him out of action. As Bert scooted round to give him another wallop, Oliver jumped to the side and caught hold of the back of the wheel chair and yanked it over, spilling Bert on to the bedroom carpet with his useless legs twisting under him like a puppet dropped from it's strings. 'Got you now Bertie cripple!' Oliver was so thick with whisky and hate there was no cruel quip he wouldn't use. Bert shocked him by still coming at him, dragging his legs like a wounded soldier. Annie was also getting on to her feet, her nightie falling naturally in place to cover her. Thinking like a cornered rat, Oliver sprang to action. He lunged forward, giving Annie a hard shove that sent her reeling over the bed again and onto the floor with a bump the other side. Then he jumped to the side of Bert and got round to his feet and grabbed him by the ankles, pulling him on to his back.
Kerry and Colin knew now something pretty unusual was going on, but Kerry wouldn't let Colin open the door. They simply stood behind it and listened.
Oliver had a great smirk on his face, knowing now that he'd really got the master of Bert. He dragged him by the legs through the door, and out onto the landing. Any healthy man would have been able to use his legs from that position, to draw them back swiftly and kick Oliver into the middle of the year. But they were dead useless things on Bert and served no more purpose than wheel barrow handles for Oliver. Bert managed to cling for a while to the door frame, but the mouldings were too broad and his fingers were dragged free. When Oliver got to the top of the stairs, Bert tried to reach out for the banister struts, but it was a wide stair case and Oliver kept him close to the skirting board on the opposite side, banging his spine and head as he continued down the stairs. Bert clutched at chairs and tables, turning them over, as Oliver dragged him through the living room, and out through the open patio doors to the swimming pool.
With all the crashing and banging, Colin was desperate that they should do something. It was obviously a gang of burglars. They'd got to get to a phone and call the police. He ran to the window to see if there was some way to climb down into the garden. Kerry followed him to the window. Then they saw movement in the indoor swimming pool, which jutted out from the patio to their left.
Oliver dragged Bert along the side of the pool to the deep end, but stayed a good distance from the steps, then swung him in a wide arch like a scythe and pitched him into the water. Hitting the water head first and on his back, Bert went straight under. Oliver went back through the lounge, jumping over the furniture that Bert had pulled all over the place, and headed for the stairs. Annie was scurrying back up them, having got half way down, hands still firmly bound behind her back, shaking her head from side to side as though trying to scream through the plaster gag. She managed to get back in her bedroom just ahead of Oliver, and kicked the door back in his face, but he caught its swing with the flats of his hands and pushed it back open, sending her gambolling back over the foot of the bed. Oliver smiled, slammed the door shut behind him, put the light on, and began stripping off his clothes.
Kerry and Colin saw Bert go into the water and the intruder, who was only one, run back into the lounge. They heard him race up the stairs. A bedroom door slammed, and they assumed he'd gone into Annie's room. First priority was to get to Bert fighting for his life in the pool. They scurried down the stairs, no sound from the soft carpet, and out to the pool, where Colin, dressed only in his under pants dived into the water. He came up straight in front of Bert, who was doing a pretty good job of keeping himself afloat with the movements of his arms, and making direction to the steps. Colin got him quickly there where Kerry reached to help. But Bert instructed her to leave him.
'Get the crossbow Kerry! Get the crossbow and get up to Annie's bedroom quick!' Kerry nodded and raced through to the closet in the hall.
Completely naked now and in full light, Oliver let Annie see him as he was with his scald marks and skin grafts. All red and ugly down his neck and one side of his chest. Face distorted around his mismatched glass eye, framed in skin graft that had healed badly. He smiled and distorted his looks further, turning her over onto her face and this time completely tearing away her nightie. Just looking at her, trying to get away from him, had raised Oliver up hard and ready. He reached forward and dragged the pillows from under her face, lifted her at the hips, and shoved them three high under her tummy. He breathed and sighed, as he looked at the shape of her, and let his scarred palms get the feel of her just once, sliding them up the back of her thighs, over her buttock cheeks and hips, finally taking grip at her waist. Then the door opened.
Oliver turned his head, half expecting to see Bert stood there, come back from the dead. He saw a beautiful girl, with raven black hair, in a lemon nightie . . . holding a violin? The bolt hit him in the right eye. Had it been his left, good eye, it would have gone straight through to his brain and killed him. But it was his glass eye which took the impact, deflecting the bolt downwards and through the roof of his mouth.
Bert and Colin heard the scream from down in the pool. Colin had got Bert so that he was sat on the side, with his feet dangling in the water. The screaming continued all the way down the stairs. Then suddenly they saw Oliver come staggering through the lounge, blood pouring from his mouth and eye, where the bolt protruded, streaking all down his naked body. Kerry had stopped to free Annie and get her into a dressing gown. By the time they got to the top of the stairs, Kerry realised Oliver hadn't just run out of the room and dropped dead on the landing, but was staggering into the indoor pool. They ran down the stairs, Kerry struggling to load another bolt into the cross bow as she went, and rushed in after him before he could get to Bert. But Oliver only wanted to end his agony and his misery for all time.
They all watched him as he staggered to the edge of the pool. He swayed just once, clutching his face, then jumped into the water. Finding himself only up to his waist, he blindly pushed through the water with a few pointless steps toward the deep end. Unable to take anymore pain, he bent his knees and forced himself under the shallow water where he stood. The blood that pumped rapidly from his face, grew like an expanding red cloud around him, and soon hid his naked body completely from view.
* * *
The funerals of Oliver and Jane had been held on separate days, but in the same cemetery. And while Sylvia regularly took flowers to Jane's grave, the only one time visit to Oliver's was from Annie and Bert. Melanie had not been able to avoid the scandal. Oliver's cine film had destroyed all hope of that, and she was eventually divorced from her husband. However, she remained close friends with Sylvia, though never an intimate one such as with Jane, and helped her to establish a successful model agency. Sylvia sold the Gables property, and ten years on, after she had remarried and had two children, it was pulled down for motorway access. Bert had died some four years before, and never new of the grim discovery that the bulldozers unearthed, when they cleared the orchard of its trees. The body of Sheila Connaught was identified by her dental records. It was established that Oliver and Jane were the couple in the green van whom the police had been looking for, with Oliver's wedding photograph identified by the girl he had touched up in the supermarket. Two more bodies were identified, by the items that were buried with them. The third, a young girl, remained a mystery. Apart from the kidnapping of Sheila Connaught, nothing else was firmly established. No one ever knew how the bodies came to be in the apple orchard or whether Oliver and Jane were together responsible for their deaths.
END
Brad Jones, The Chains of Obsession
