Premier Writing showcases poetry, essays and short fiction by new and emerging Irish writers. This week’s short story is by Marian Roche from Cork.
Short story
The Sneaky Murderer
The body was discovered on scrubby woodland midway between the towns of Newtown and Woodville. The twin towns where nothing of note was ever mentioned in any local news or social media.
The pathologist was talking to the head of the forensics team at the scene.
“The body is that of a female, mid-twenties. The evidence suggests she was killed somewhere else, about 12hours ago and thrown in over the bridge wall”. They both looked up towards the high stone bridge at a sharp bend on the road.
“She has blunt trauma injuries to the back of her head, suggesting she was hit from behind, probably with a wooden implement. She also has ligatures marks around her wrists.”
The forensics man opined, “Maybe she was running away from her attacker. But before that, he most likely knew her and surprised her by tying her hands but then she may have managed to get away again.”
“Yes, that’s likely. I’ll be on to you as soon as I have my full lab report.”
The pathologist left and the white-clad team finished up their evidence-gathering and photograph-taking. The body was taken to the morgue.
Detective Mulvey stated, “As you heard from the pathologist, the female was killed last night between 10pm and midnight, and her body thrown in over this bridge. She must be a local lady and the murderer is most likely from this area. Luckily an early dog-walker found her.” Then he gave out various jobs, such as door-to-door enquiries and collecting camera evidence from both towns, where available.
He took a quick phone call and told his staff:
“Mrs Nora Brown from Newtown just phoned to report that her daughter did not come home last night from her nursing shift in Woodville Community Hospital. Her description fits our deceased.”
They packed up their equipment and went to their cars outside on the road and soon the area was left once more to nature’s solitude.
“Aha, they’re all gone at last!” he exclaimed to himself as he watched the last Garda leave the dry glen. “Those dopes will never figure it out! They won’t find the hurley I clubbed her with or the baling twine I tied her with, because I burned them in the fire last night! And, there is no camera on the side area of the Hospital by the pine trees, where I waited at Anita’s car. I was waiting for this showdown for ages. You dumped me, Anita Brown! Now it’s time to dump you!” He chuckled in glee as he cast his mind back over his night’s activities.
He took delight in watching the live CSI going on in front of his eyes, from his seat in the derelict woodshed across the dry glen from where he had dumped Anita’s body. He wore gloves and an old coat he found discarded beside a bin. He crawled out and made his way along the dry-river path and came out onto the road at the edge of town. Nobody saw him dump the old coat in the roadside bin.
Chief Mulvey made the distressing visit to Mrs Brown to sympathise with her daughter’s loss. He found it upsetting to witness the poor mother’s devastated shock and crying. Then he asked her about Anita.
“She is…ah…was 24 years old. She worked in the Hospital in Woodville since she qualified. She loved her job. She was very hard-working and kind. I don’t know what I’ll do without her…”
Mulvey allowed her time to cry and blow her nose. “Who were her friends? Any boyfriend?”
“She played basketball with her friends in the Hall here in Newtown on Wednesdays, and went out to the local pub or nightclub on her weekends of. No, she had no boyfriend for some time.”
“You can be assured, Mrs Brown, that we will do our utmost to catch the murderer and put him away.”
The Garda enquiries built up a picture of Anita’s movements on her final day. She had met her friend Sheila at lunchtime in Ryan’s Pub in Woodvile. The camera evidence showed the girls left on happy terms. On her evening break at 6pm, she took a quick walk around the hospital grounds and returned by the side door. Her shift finished at 8pm and she was last seen walking around the side while putting on her jacket and probably going to her car. But she never got into the car. It was found locked and there was no security camera on that narrow area.
“That would suggest that our suspect is someone with local knowledge of both the hospital grounds and who also knew Anita”, said Mulvey at the team meeting in the Station. “Keep digging, lads, while this crime is fresh and we will have an early arrest.”
Garda Lynch said they were checking all vehicles seen on the cameras going from Woodville to Newtown. So far, only regular drivers with local addresses were showing up and a Garda will be calling to each driver to check out their bona fides.
“He used to go out with a nurse a long time ago, but that all fizzled out…”
When he arrived home, he heard his mother calling him from her upstairs bedroom.
“Tom, what’s keeping you? Tis nearly 12.00 noon and you haven’t brought up my cup of tea and tablets yet”. She pounded the floor with her walking stick.
“I’m coming, Mam, I was out for a walk.”
“A walk? You never walk in the morning!” She was cross.
He arrived up with her tea and tablets. “I went to the shop for milk,” he lied, trying to pacify her.
“We don’t need any milk. Your sister brought milk yesterday when she called.”
“I forgot, okay?”
“Did you have any work today at the gravel quarry in Woodville?”
“No. I got a day off because I worked late last night to finish a job.”
“And I heard you come home in the loader late in the dark, instead of the car?”
“So what? It has lights. I parked it down at the end of town as I’ve done in the past.”
There was a knock on the door.
Tom opened the door to two Gardaí. He was taken aback.
“Good afternoon. We’re making door-to-door enquiries about a serious incident in this area last night.”
The other Garda added, “Your name please?”
“Ah, ah, Tom Murphy.”
“Do you live alone, Tom?”
“No, my mother lives here. She’s a bit elderly.”
“Good man. Where were you last night between the hours of 9pm and midnight?”
“I worked late in Woodville Quarry. I moved gravel to a different area, for my boss. He needed the place cleared for this morning. You can ask my boss, Mr. Nelson.”
“We will, son, we will do that. That’s all for now, Tom.”
The big restaurant at the end of Newtown had a food hygiene inspection from the Health Department that day. It was the second Inspection in six months as there were some areas the watchdog body wasn’t happy with. This time they inspected all the bins and food waste areas. When a blue tarpaulin was found stuffed into the food waste bin, the manager was called.
The manager asked all his staff who put the plastic into a bin designated for food only. This action could cost him his Star for Food Excellence. The plastic was opened out and when blood stains were found the Gardaí were called. DNA tests were taken for identification.
The Gardaí knocked at Tom’s door for the second time. It took Tom’s mother a good while to get to the door on her walking frame.
“Mrs Murphy, we are cross-checking all people’s whereabouts to eliminate them from our enquiries.”
“Well, I’m always here”, she answered. “Tom works in the quarry over in Woodville.”
“Where was he last Monday night?”
“He worked late and drove home in the loader.”
“Did he ever do that before?”
“O yes, he often drove it home, especially if he had a job to do for a friend.”
“You mean, a Foxer?”
“Yes. But I’m not supposed to tell anyone. He makes a few extra quid that way. I’d prefer if he’d go and meet a nice girl instead.”
“Did he ever have a girlfriend?”
“Yes, he used to go out with a nurse a long time ago, but that all fizzled out.”
“Thank you, Mrs Murphy.”
The Gardaí re-checked the CCTV footage to see if Anita was being carried by any car. They had checked out all the drivers’ alibis. Then Garda Pat Lynch called out, “Come here and look at Tom Murphy going home at 11pm in the loader.”
They all stared at the screen.
“I’ll slow down the footage as he leaves the village. Look, what is that sticking out over the bucket of the loader?”
Lynch exclaimed, “That looks like a bit of a tarpaulin flapping out over the rim!”
Mulvey shouted, “Replay that bit!”
And that convinced them.
“Yes,” said the d.etective. “We have him! That looks like the tarpaulin found in the restaurant bin. That’s our missing piece. That’s how he transported the body of Anita…on his way home…right in front of our noses.”
He jumped up and put on his coat. “Come on, Pat. Let’s arrest Tom Murphy.”
*
About the author:
Marian Roche has been writing stories for her own fun for years, but has decided of late to share them with us. She has also written plays, which have been performed by both children and adults on various stages. She has written many children’s stories, which she says are her favourite. She is an enthusiastic gardener in summer, and plays bridge in the winter. Marian lives in Bandon, Co. Cork.
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