The Skeleton in the Closet

boyfriend.”

Maggie rose and went into the kitchen.

Fell stared numbly at Andy. Fell had been brought up on threats that God would punish him if he was bad, a God of wrath, a God with long flowing locks and a long beard. He felt he was being punished for having kept that money in the cash box. He felt weak with fear. He could feel his knees trembling under his dressing gown. He was sure he was about to wet himself. He could have cried with weakness and shame and fright.

In some of his many fantasies, he had been threatened by a gunman, but had disarmed him with one karate chop. He prayed that Maggie had somehow run out of the kitchen door for help.

But the kitchen door opened and he heard Maggie say brightly, “Tea’s ready.”

Andy was sitting with his back to the table where Maggie placed the tray.

“Don’t move,” he said to Fell with a grin and Fell knew that Andy was well aware that he, Fell, was too frightened to move a muscle.

In the same moment, as in a dream, Fell saw Maggie lift a marble rolling pin off the tea tray. Just as Andy was about to rise to his feet, Maggie brought the rolling pin down on his bullet head with all the force given to her by fear.

Andy gave a choked sound and tumbled forward onto the carpet. Fell leaped out of his chair and grabbed the gun from Andy’s limp hand. Blood was oozing from the back of Andy’s head onto the carpet.

Fell sat down on the sofa and levelled the gun at the recumbent Andy. Maggie stood shaking, her hands to her mouth. Then she crept round and sat down next to Fell.

“We can’t let him bleed to death,” she whispered.

“Give it a minute,” Fell whispered back. “He may be faking.”

“What, with all that blood?”

“Okay, have a look at him.”

Maggie shuddered. “I can’t. Oh, I can’t. You have a look at him.”

Fell handed her the gun, but it dropped from Maggie’s nervous fingers to the carpet.

Fell picked up the gun and put it in a drawer. Then he got down on his knees and shuffled over to the body. He felt Andy’s wrist. No pulse.

“I think he’s dead, Maggie.”

“He can’t be. Oh, what are we to do?”

“I don’t know,” said Fell helplessly. “Maybe we should call for an ambulance.”

“Then I’d be a murderess and the court would take all your money.”

“If the money comes from a robbery, then they’ll need to have it.”

“But what if he was bluffing? What if your father had nothing to do with it at all?”

“Let’s look in that bag of his,” said Fell.

They tipped out the contents of the bag. It contained dirty laundry, a long knife, a passport, and a driving licence.

Fell sat back on his heels.

“I think he would have taken my money and killed us both. What if…what if we just got rid of the body and then tried to find out ourselves if Dad really had anything to do with that robbery?”

“Should we put the body in the boot of my car and dump it in the river?”

“No,” said Fell. “Let’s bury him in the garden. Thank God he arrived in the middle of the night. Let’s hope no one saw him. Anyway, we’ll just need to hope he’s not reported missing. I need to pee.”

“Me too,” said Maggie. “You first.”

After they had both finished with the bathroom, they went outside to the garden. For once Fell blessed his parents’ desire to ‘keep ourselves to ourselves’. A high hedge on both sides of the garden blocked off any view from the neighbouring houses. A tall lilac tree to the left shut most of the view from the windows next door on that side and a holly tree on the right shielded the view from there.

“I buried the cash box,” said Maggie. “It’s over there. Where will we put him?”

“Close to the house. No danger of being seen that way.”

They both took up new spades and began to dig. “My arms ache,” complained Maggie.

“It’s got to be deep,” said Fell. “We don’t want stray cats or dogs digging it up.”

The sky began to lighten and the first birds twittered from the trees.

“That’s good enough,” said Fell at last.

They leaned on their shovels and looked at each other across the open grave, their faces white and strained in the growing light.

“Better get him,” said Fell wearily. “We’ll take the wheelbarrow. You hold open the kitchen door for me, Maggie.”

Maggie held open the door. Fell pushed the wheelbarrow inside the kitchen. With Maggie behind him, he opened the living-room door.

He let out a gasp.

The only sign of Andy was a dried pool of blood on the carpet. The street door was standing open. The duffel bag was gone.

“He can’t have been dead!” said Fell.

“Thank God,” said Maggie, and began to cry.

? The Skeleton in the Closet ?

Three

THEY slept a little. Maggie awoke, hearing Fell downstairs. She rose and dressed, hurriedly and without care.

Fell was sitting over a cup of coffee, staring into space.

“I don’t know what to do, Maggie,” he said bleakly.

Despite the fact that she was still terrified by the events of the night, Maggie knew in that moment that she had gained a reprieve. Fell would not throw her out, not immediately anyway.

“Do you think he’ll come back?” asked Maggie.

“Possibly. It’s a nightmare. Why did I never remember the robbery when I saw the money in the cash box? It was right after that Dad had his first heart attack. I was set to go to university, but I had to stay at the Palace instead. I’d been working at the hotel in my gap year and so I just stayed on.”

“Let’s go out somewhere in my car for breakfast,” said Maggie briskly, “and then we’ll go to the library and read up on everything we can about the robbery.”

“What should I do with that gun?”

“I’ll put it up in my room in the suitcase under the bed. Let’s go, Fell. If we sit here, I’ll get too frightened to move at all.”

“Right.” Fell went to the drawer, took out the gun and handed it to Maggie, who took it gingerly. She went back to her room and tucked it at the bottom of an old suitcase.

They went out to Maggie’s car, which was parked outside. The sun shone down on another perfect day.

“Mr. Dolphin!” quavered an old voice from the front garden on their right.

“Mrs. Moule,” said Fell. He raised his voice. “Good morning.”

Mrs. Moule appeared at her gate, leaning on a Zimmer frame. “You young people,” she chided. “I don’t know where you get the energy. Digging the garden in the middle of the night.”

“That’s us,” said Fell with a manufactured breeziness. “Working all hours to make the place nice.”

Mrs. Moule cackled with laughter. “Well, if you’ve any energy left over, my garden could do with weeding.”

Fell waved. He and Maggie got into the car. Maggie drove off and then stopped farther down the road. “Wait a bit,” she said. “My knees are shaking. Just think, Fell. What if we had been burying a body? How could she have seen us?”

“Probably heard us or saw us through the branches of that tree outside the upstairs window. It was getting light, remember?”