Phoenix Resurrected Read online

  I shook my head in disbelief. It couldn't be. It wasn't possible. But the terrible thought that stuck in my head wouldn't go away. Garth was the person who had robbed and killed Mister Eksteen. There could be no other explanation for the books presence behind the couch. Garth was the only person who could have brought it into the house. I felt sick with despair. "Please God." I prayed. "Please let this be a dream - a nightmare."

  But it wasn't a dream. I stared down at the book in horror. What should I do with it? I began to cry softly, something that I hadn't done for a long, long time. Why? Why did this have to happen? Why did the man that I loved so much do this?

  And as the tears streamed down my cheeks, the front door opened and Garth walked into the house.

  ***

  "Your Honour." my attorney said, addressing Judge Bester. "My client is obviously emotionally distressed. With your permission I would like to interrupt her testimony and allow her to stand down from the witness stand."

  Judge Warren Bester nodded.

  CHAPTER 10

  "Your Honour." my attorney, Paul Greave, said, looking up at the judge. "May I suggest that my client, Garth Gilmore, be allowed to continue with his testimony while Miss Bedford regains her composure?"

  "Yes." Judge Bester said. "You may continue."

  I stepped onto the witness stand and sat down.

  ***

  I walked into the house and closed the door behind me. I glanced into the lounge and saw Cindy sitting on the couch. She looked up and I could see that she was crying. I walked into the room.

  "What are you crying about?" I asked.

  Cindy looked up at me as I approached her, tears running down her cheeks. She held out her hand and I saw that she was holding a small book. To my horror I recognised it as Mister Eksteen's bank deposit book! I wondered where she could have got it. And then I remembered that I'd thrown it against the wall of the lounge in frustration when I realised how little money I had stolen from Mister Eksteen and it had fallen down behind the couch.

  "What do you know about this?" Cindy asked.

  I stared at the little book in her hand as I tried desperately to think of what to say.

  "This book belongs to the bookmaker who was robbed and murdered last November." Cindy said. "How did it get here?"

  I looked at Cindy, sighed and sat down on the couch next to her. She moved away from me but remained seated.

  "I'm not going to try and lie my way out of this." I said, staring down at the carpet in front of me. "I was the person who robbed Mister Eksteen."

  "But you killed him!" Cindy said.

  "I didn't mean to kill him." I said. "It was an accident. He wouldn't let go of the briefcase so I was forced to hit him with the rubber truncheon that I was carrying. But I don't believe that I hit him hard enough to kill him."

  "But why did you rob him?" Cindy asked. "Surely you couldn't have been that desperate? You've got this house, you've got a large investment account and you’ve got a good enough education to get a steady job. What more do you want?"

  "I needed the money." I said. "I was becoming desperate. I couldn't find a job, my access to my money had been blocked and my allowance wasn't enough for the things that I wanted to do. I was also convinced that if I only had a little more time and money I would finally win big on the horses and all my problems would be over."

  "You killed a man so that you could continue with your gambling?" Cindy asked.

  "I told you it was an accident!" I said angrily. "I didn't mean to kill him! All I wanted to do was make him let go of the briefcase."

  "So now the police are looking for you in connection with armed robbery and murder." Cindy said quietly.

  "They don't know who committed the robbery." I said. "It happened over three months ago and they're still in the dark. They say that they're following up on some important leads but that's bullshit. They're only saying that in the hope that it'll frighten me into surrendering or doing something stupid that will expose me. They're clueless."

  "It doesn't worry you that you killed someone?" Cindy asked.

  "Of course it does!" I said. "But there's nothing that I can do about it. It just happened."

  "When you realised what had happened, why didn't you hand yourself over to the police?" Cindy asked. "Wouldn't that have been the right thing to do? Now you're a fugitive from the law and if the police do eventually trace you, you'll be in terrible trouble. Far more than you would have been if you'd given yourself up straight after the robbery."

  "They won't trace me." I said. "I've thought about it very carefully. I didn't leave any clues or leads that could lead them to me."

  "Really?" Cindy asked. "What about this deposit book? What if the domestic worker had found it and not me? What if she'd recognised the name in it and taken it to the police?"

  "She didn't find it." I said.

  "What did you do with the briefcase?" Cindy asked. "It probably had your fingerprints all over it."

  "I've still got the briefcase." I said. "It's locked in the cupboard in my old bedroom."

  "And the rubber truncheon?"

  "It's also locked in the cupboard." I said.

  "Garth." Cindy said. "You've got to hand yourself over to the police. You're in big trouble and the longer you stay in hiding the worse the consequences will be. Surely you can see that?"

  "Never." I said. "They'll never find out that I was responsible for the robbery. Or are you going to tell them?"

  Cindy stared at me.

  "Garth." she said finally. "If I keep quiet about this I'll be just as guilty as you are. I'll be guilty, not only of not reporting a crime that I'm aware of, but also of harbouring a criminal fugitive. I could also go to jail for a long time. So, you tell me what should I do? I knew nothing about this before today but now, because of your stupidity, I'll go to jail if you're caught."

  "I told you. I won't get caught." I said. "The police are clueless. They don't have any leads."

  We sat in silence, Cindy still holding the little deposit book. A group of school children walked past on the pavement outside, laughing and shouting to each other.

  "Look, Cindy." I said. "What's happened is in the past. It happened and I can't change that. But the police will never catch me. Can't we just leave things as they were? We'll burn the deposit book and the briefcase and the truncheon. I'm certain that those three things are the only things that can connect me to the robbery. Without them I'm quite safe. Going to the police now would be silly. And they very likely won't believe that you only found out now about the robbery. They'll accuse you of being part of the robbery. Can't you see that? Policemen are very suspicious people. They believe what they want to believe, not what other people tell them. It's too late to go to them now."

  I watched Cindy closely. I could see that she was confused; not at all sure about what she could do.

  "And even if I do get caught." I said. "I'll tell the police that you didn't know anything about what I was doing. If it wasn't for the deposit book you still wouldn't know anything about it. And, if we destroy the book the police will never know that it even existed. How could they know about it?"

  Cindy sighed.

  "Okay, Garth." she said. "You've convinced me. I won't do or say anything about this to anyone. But, I want you to promise me that you'll never ever do anything like this again."

  "I promise." I said.

  "Okay." Cindy said. "Let's get rid of this book and also get rid of the suitcase."

  We went into the backyard of the house. With the high walls that surrounded the yard none of the neighbours could see us. We tore the pages out of the deposit book and burnt them one by one in the metal rubbish bin outside the back door, careful to create as little smoke as possible. I cut the thick cover into small pieces and we burnt them as well. The briefcase was a problem though. It was made of genuine leather and I knew that it would be impossible to burn it without using an inflammable liquid like petrol or benzene. This would create far too much smoke and
quite possibly make the neighbours suspicious.

  "The only thing that I can think of is to cut it up into small pieces with a sharp knife, put them into a plastic shopping bag, and put it out with the rest of the rubbish" I said. "I can't imagine that anyone inspects the rubbish before it goes to the rubbish dump, and when it gets there nobody will take any notice of it."

  I went into the kitchen and found a large sharp knife. I hacked the briefcase into small pieces and, after carefully wiping each one to remove any fingerprints, put them into a heavy duty plastic shopping bag. I tied the handles together to seal it and dropped it into the bin. We went back into the house.

  "What about the rubber truncheon?" Cindy asked.

  "I want to keep that." I said. "We've got nothing in the house to defend ourselves if anyone breaks in. A weapon like that could save our lives."

  "What about the bookmaker's D.N.A.?" Cindy asked. "If you hit him with it there must be traces of hair and skin on it."

  "I'll wash them off." I said. "In fact, I'll scrub the thing with detergent and also with some thinners. If I do that it'll destroy any D.N.A. on the truncheon."

  At first Cindy looked doubtful but then she capitulated.

  "Okay." she said. "You're right. We don't have anything in the house to defend ourselves with."

  While Cindy watched, I scrubbed the truncheon with detergent and then with some thinners that I found amongst the cleaning materials in the cupboard below the sink.

  "Now I've just committed another crime." Cindy said, her shoulders dropping in despair.

  "What do you mean?" I asked.

  "I've just helped you destroy the evidence of a crime." she said.

  I shrugged my shoulders.

  "I keep telling you, Cindy." I said. "The police don't suspect me and they never will. Just relax. Everything's going to be okay."

  ***

  I was relieved that Cindy hadn't made a fuss about what happened to Mister Eksteen and insisted that I hand myself over to the police but I'd known that she wasn't in a position to tell me what to do. I was the one in a position of strength. Cindy needed me far more than I needed her. She needed me emotionally and she also needed me to keep her off the street. She had nowhere to go if she left me. She couldn't afford her own accommodation, especially now that her income had been reduced, and she certainly couldn't go back to her parents.

  I was quite fond of Cindy though. She was pleasant to be with and she was quite willing to do the cooking and other small chores. She wasn't overly emotional and our sex was satisfying. The extra income that I received from her was also useful. And I felt that could trust her, something that was alien to me.

  I was angry at myself though, for being so foolish and leaving the bank deposit book lying behind the couch. I'd thrown it there in anger and I knew that my anger towards the world and myself needed to be curbed. It was when I was angry that I made mistakes and this incident with the deposit book was a typical example. But anger had been my dominant emotion ever since I could remember and had become a deep-seated habit. Changing would be almost impossible.

  The mistakes that I'd made with regard to robbing and killing Mister Eksteen had taught me that I could never be too careful. I had promised Cindy that I would never commit a robbery again but the ease with which I had executed the robbing of Mister Eksteen made me realise that, if properly planned and executed, robbery would be a very lucrative enterprise. The planning had been exciting and challenging and I was quite proud of how I'd gone about it.

  Of course, there had been mistakes; the main one being that my timing had been wrong. If I'd taken the results of the horse races into account I would have waited for a race meeting where there had been more outsiders being led into the winner's circle as this would have resulted in Mister Eksteen having a lot more cash to deposit. My reward would then have been far more satisfying.

  But if I were to attempt another robbery I would have to be far more meticulous about the planning, the execution and especially covering up my tracks afterwards. And as far as my promise to Cindy was concerned; promises were made to be broken. If an opportunity to take something of value from someone arose, I would take it.

  ***

  I was sitting on the couch in the lounge with a beer and watching television when Cindy arrived home after her first day working at the dry cleaners. I expected her to be smiling and happy about her day but the expression on her face as she came into the room told me otherwise. She kissed me and sat down on the couch next to me. I could see that she was close to crying.

  "Obviously your first day at work didn't turn out the way you had expected it to." I said.

  "No." Cindy said, her bottom lip trembling as she fought to prevent herself bursting into tears. "It was horrible!"

  "Horrible?" I asked. "How so?"

  "I couldn't believe that two people could change so drastically and as completely as Mister and Mister Whiteside did." she said, shaking her head slowly. "When I went for the interview they were both so friendly; especially Misses Whiteside. But, no sooner had I signed the employment agreement and sat down at my desk, than she started talking to me as if I was a naughty little girl. And from then on she criticised everything that I did and even shouted at me a few times. And never once did she explain to me what and how she wanted the work done. It was if she expected me to know everything!

  "And when I asked her to explain anything she rolled her eyes and shook her head. And Mister Whiteside was no better. He threw some papers onto my desk and told me to type two letters for him and when I asked where the letterheads were kept he shouted at me as if I was a complete idiot. When I finally found them he stood over me as I typed and shouted at me when I typed too slowly. The two of them carried on like this the whole day. It was really horrible!"

  "Obviously they were being nice to you last Thursday at your interview so that you would take the job." I said. "And now that you've signed they've become their real selves. Why don't you just leave and look for another job?"

  "I can't." Cindy said. "The employment agreement states that I must give a month's notice and, if I don't, they can sue me for breach of agreement. So, even if I give notice tomorrow, I'll still have to work there until the end of the month."

  "Well, give notice tomorrow." I said. "Then you'll just have to stick it out until the end of the month. In the mean time you can look for another job. That shouldn't be too hard to find. Especially as there seem to be so many suitable jobs on the market right now."

  Cindy nodded glumly.

  "And tell them that if they so much as touch you or try to get you to do anything that's not specified in your contract, I'll come round there and beat the living daylights out of both of them." I said.

  "Thanks Garth." Cindy said squeezing my arm "I'll tell them that."

  That evening Cindy wrote out her letter of resignation with a copy and the following morning she went off to the dry cleaners, a look of trepidation on her face.

  When Cindy got home from work that evening she looked a little calmer.

  "So what happened when you handed in your resignation" I asked as she sat down at the kitchen table where I was sitting having a beer.

  "I handed Misses Whiteside the letter and asked her to sign the copy." Cindy said. "She immediately started shouting at me and threatened to go to the Labour Council. I simply stared back at her. She accused me of reneging on our agreement but I pointed out to her that I was entitled to give a calendar month's notice as long as it was before the seventh of the month. And as today was the fourth of the month, I told her, I was not reneging on the agreement. She glared at me, grabbed the copy of the letter, and left the office. A few minutes later she returned and threw the copy onto my desk. I looked at it and saw that it had been signed.

  The next minute Mister Whiteside came into the office. He shouted that I would regret what I'd just done and moved threateningly towards me. I told him that if he so much as touched me or tried to make me do anything that wasn't stipulated in
my contract, you would come round there and beat him and his wife to a pulp. That stopped him in his tracks." Cindy said grinning. "He then asked me if I was threatening him. I told him that I wasn't threatening him; I was promising him. He glared at me, turned around, and left the office."

  "Well done." I said.

  "Then, a little later Misses Whiteside came back into the office and apologised to me." Cindy said. "She said that maybe they'd overreacted. She said that she and her husband were both under a lot of strain and that she would try her best to be nice to me. She then asked me if I would tear up the copy of the letter of resignation if she promised to do that. I just stared at her and after a while she told me quietly that I was going to regret my actions. Then she turned and left the office. I'm really not looking forward to being there for the rest of the month but I won't renege on the contract."

  "Okay." I said. "But if they try anything nasty just tell me and I'll sort them out. In the mean time you can start looking for another job."

  ***

  I could see that Cindy was becoming more and more angry with Mister and Misses Whiteside and that she was gradually coming to hate them. Then, on the Friday afternoon she came into the house, sat down on the couch next to me in the lounge and burst into tears. I put my arm around her.

  "And now?" I asked. "What's happened now?"

  Cindy wiped the tears off her cheeks with her handkerchief.

  "This morning I carefully added up all the takings for the week, filled in the bank deposit book and put the money and the book into the plastic shopping bag that Mister Whiteside usually used to take the money to the bank." Cindy said. "I also gave him the breakdown for the wages. But when he got back from the bank he shouted at me that the takings had been fifty dollars short and that he had been forced to make up the shortfall with his own money. He then said that he was going to take fifty dollars off my salary at the end of the month. Garth, I know that the takings were correct and tallied with the total written in the deposit book. I checked it twice."