Going Back To See Alicia by Kate Twitchin, a soothing cup of camomile tea

 You came back.

Yes.

You do know how stupid that is?

I know.

Could land you in a load of trouble.

Shut up.

So, turn around and walk away.

I can’t.

You should’ve phoned in sick.

It was too late; I was called into the briefing and told I’d have to come back here.

It’s dangerous.

I know.

So, tell them you’re not well, fake a faint, anything.

I can’t.

You could if you tried. Sounds like you really want to see her again.

No!

No?

I don’t want to be here.

Go on, admit it, might be interesting.

You’re mad.

You said it.

“Shut up!”

Careful. Don’t want people thinking you’re bonkers, talking to yourself.

Just…leave me alone.

Can’t do that, I’m afraid, not since you stopped taking your tablets.

They were doing my head in.

Like I am now?

“Get lost!”

“You okay, Gary?”

Well, answer her then.

I can’t.

You’re pathetic.

“Gary?”

“Alright, Melissa?”

“I’m alright, but you look well weird, like you’ve seen a ghost.”

That’s very perceptive of her.

Shut up!

“Gary?”

“Dodgy stomach, p’raps should’ve phoned in sick.”

“Glad you didn’t; there’s only you and Dave for the whole bleeding forest.”

“Right.”

“Pathologist won’t be much longer, so get suited up. I’ll get her to the morgue then I’m off duty. Going to the bowling Thursday?”

“What?”

“You sure you’re OK?”

“Yeah.”

“Right, see you later.”

You’re going to have to do better than that.

I don’t…

You don’t want to be here, yeah, you said.

I never come back.

Never want to. Never need to. Your trusty mantra.

That’s right.

Never feel an emotional pull to revisit the scene.

No.

Never leave anything behind.

No.

No footprints or fingerprints.

No.

No fibres or hairs; no saliva or semen.

No.

So, there’s nothing to worry about, is there?

Someone might recognise me.

We’re in the middle of a forest.

The woman, the dog walker, who found her…

She’s over in the police car being comforted, but you might want to get your mask on just in case.

Yes, I should get ready.

Come on then, get a move on.

I…

What’s up? Forgotten what to do? Six months sick leave and it’s all gone?

Just leave me…

Suit, overshoes, mask, goggles.

Alright, alright…I know, I know…

The gawkers will start gathering soon. Don’t want one of them to see your face and think, hang on, didn’t I see him with Alicia in The Crown the other night.

Don’t say her name.

You’re right, no names, no pack-drill. You need to be very, very careful what you say on this job.

I know.

You could let something slip that only the perpetrator could know.

“I said I know!”

Steady on, calm down, no need to shout.

I’ll refer to her as the deceased from now on.

What about victim; you could call her the victim.

Whatever.

The word deceased is so vague. Could just mean she died peacefully in her sleep whereas you know different, don’t you, being the murderer and all.

Shut up.

Oh, sorry, don’t you like being reminded that it’s your fault that a beautiful woman is lying dead under a tree, with a pathologist poking and prodding her?

I said, shut up.

He’ll be using all his skills and experience to come up with a cause and time of death. Preliminary, of course, until he can get her on the slab.

I have to go.

Well, watch yourself, be careful what you say. You could save him a lot of time and effort with what you know but you don’t want to be whisked off to a holding cell, cuffed and cautioned, do you.

Shut up.

Don’t forget your box of tricks. Tweezers, evidence bags, labels.

For Christ’s sake back off, I know my job, I’ve done this a hundred times before.

Ah, but it’s never been quite like this before, has it?

I feel sick.

Don’t go contaminating the crime scene, there’s a good chap.

I don’t want to be here.

Of course you don’t, you despicable little sod.

Shut up!

You’re sweating.

I…

Not surprising. You’re dreading seeing her again. You know what she’ll look like; it’s been, what, two days?

I have to get on, I have a job to do.

She’s not going to be a pretty sight.

Shut up!

You could just walk away.

I…

Slight hesitation there. Maybe you do want to see her, after all.

No…

Go on, you know you want to really.

“Shut up! Leave me alone.”

Shush. Go on, get to work, and no more talking to yourself, unless you want to end up in Hill Crest again.

I’m not going back there. Ever.

Well, you’re going the right way about it. You shouldn’t have stopped taking your meds. What did you do that for?

Leave it, I haven’t time, I need to go...

*

Oh dear, not feeling too good? Buck up, you’ve seen and smelled putrefaction before, you should be used to it.

This is different.

Of course it’s different, because this time it’s personal. Take a good look, are you proud of yourself?

I don’t…

Go on, look. Look at what you did. He’s rolling her body onto her side, looking for post-mortem lividity.

I know what he’s doing.

You’re sweating again.

I… 

Not a pretty sight is she? Look at those nasty reddish purple marks on her thighs and buttocks where…

Shut up!

…where her blood settled after her heart stopped beating. Correction, after you stopped her heart beating.

I don’t want to be here.

So you keep saying.

It’s not fair, she was perfect when I left her. Her skin was…

Soft and flawless, wasn’t it. She was a lovely looking young woman, just your type.

I don’t have a type.

That’s what you think. If you don’t watch out, they’ll start joining the dots and realise they’re hunting a serial killer.

They won’t, I’m careful…

Yeah, yeah, the perfect criminal committing perfect crimes.

Those marks weren’t there when I left her.

No, well, that’s the point isn’t it, they’re post-mortem, and you didn’t stick around long enough. You couldn’t wait to get away.

I…

Despicable coward.

It’s not fair.

What’s not fair?

She was perfect. She’s all spoiled.

Yeah, well, you should’ve thought of that before you did what you did.

“Leave me alone.”

“What?”

“Nothing, sorry Doctor.”

“Bag this, please.”

Christ, what’s that? Between his thumb and forefinger?

Come on, do as you’re asked, get a bag and secure the evidence.

“What is it, Doctor?”

“Looks like a business card to me, but that’s your job, get it to forensics.”

“Where…where was it?”

“She was lying on it. Right, I’m done here, we can get her bagged up and back to mortuary. Preliminary findings: dead about 48 hours, strangulation, some disturbance by animals. I’ll know more once I’ve done the post-mortem.”

The sooner they zip her up the better, right?

Be quiet, I need to look at this. Underneath her. I don’t understand.

Bit of a mystery.

She must have had it in her hand.

And had the presence of mind to shove it under her when she realised what you were going to do to her. Poor cow.

Leave it!

Can you imagine how terrified she must have been?

I said, leave it!

Calm down, people are giving you funny looks.

It can’t have anything to do with me.

Oh, no, not you; you’re careful, meticulous. No footprints, no fingerprints - except on handily placed business cards obviously - no fibres or hairs, no saliva or semen. You never need to go back.   

Maybe I could lose it.

What? You think the Doc, Melissa, the DCI and anyone else in earshot will conveniently forget that you had that vital piece of evidence?

It might not be evidence.

So, why would you even think about losing it? You recognise it don’t you?

No.

Yes, you do. It looks like that card the barman handed you and that you then passed to Alicia.

Don’t say her name!

Oops, sorry. Anyway, she took it, so guess whose fingerprints will be on it.

Oh god…

Hers…the barman’s…and, of course, yours. What a lovely, juicy clue.

I’ll wipe it.

Seriously? And how do you think that will look when forensics get it under their microscope? Fishy, that’s what.

I can’t risk it…

You could eat it.

Belt up, I’m thinking.

This should be good.

I’m trying to visualise the ground as I pushed her down onto it. It was grass, just grass, no leaves or twigs or anything; that card would’ve been obvious, I’d have seen it.

You need to move out of the way; Melissa and her mate want to carry her over to the van.

I can’t look.

No, and you know why? Because you’re a coward, a gutless and despicable coward.

“Leave me alone!”

“Bloody hell, Gary, what’s got into you? Get a grip.”

“Yeah, right, yeah.”

Come on, the worst bit’s over, the deceased, the ‘victim’, has left the scene. Now get to work.

I can’t.

You have to.

I can’t do it.

And how weird will that make you look?

I can’t breathe.

Panic attack, that’s all. Like Melissa said, get a grip, don’t lose it now.

Lose it, the card, yes, I have to lose it, destroy it, I can’t log it.

OK, so get rid of it, if it makes you feel better - but carefully.

Where? How?

First bin you see.

Too obvious.

Drain?

I don’t know…

Cut it up and flush it down the loo.

That never works.

Not in the movies, no, but it’ll work, trust me.

“Trust you? How can I trust you?”

“You alright, there?”

“What? No, I mean, yes, sorry Doctor, um… I just have to get away.”

“You only just got here.”

“Yes, just got here, need to look for clues. Clues need to be bagged and…logged, bagged and…”

“Are you on something?”

“No.”

“Doing drugs? Is that it?”

“I don’t want to be here.”

“None of wants to be here, mate. Come on, sort yourself out, there’s a girl who’s died a horrible death and it’s our job to get the bastard who did it.”

“I didn’t do it.”

“What?”

“It wasn’t me, I’ve never seen her before in my life. It wasn’t me!”

“Nobody said it was.”

“Do you really think I’d have come back if I’d done it, if I’d murdered her?”

“Ha, you’d be surprised how many criminals return to the scene of their crime, sick bastards.”

“I’d never do that, I’d never go back. I had to come, it’s my job.”

“Right. Look, I think you need to go home, relax, get some sleep.”

“While you dig up more incriminating evidence against me? No, I need to be here.”

“You’re not making any sense. Where’s your DCI?”

That’s torn it, you should have kept quiet, you idiot.

Shut up, leave me alone, this is all your fault.

“Hey, DCI Clayton, over here.”

“What’s up?”

“This man is sick. You need to get him away from here, he’s not in a fit state, he could do something stupid and contaminate the scene.”

“Right, thanks. He’s not long back from sick leave but we thought…well, anyway, come on Gary, let’s get you…”

“Get your hands off me. I’m not going back there!”

 *

“Alright, Gary?”

“Get off me, leave me alone, I’m not going back in there!”

“Calm down, you’re among friends.”

“He told me to do it!”

“Yes, that’s right; he’s back, causing havoc. We’ll soon send him packing.”

“I killed her, I strangled her.”

“Now, now, you know you didn’t.”

“I did! Two days ago. Picked her up in a bar and…”

“Come on Gary, let’s get you some meds and you can go and have a nice sleep.”

“I don’t want your poison. Get that thing away from me!”

“Just a little injection, calm you down.”

“He told me to do it…”

“No, he didn’t. Just you relax. In the morning, you can tell Dr. Stanford all about it and he’ll come up with a plan.”

“Am I being Sectioned?”

“Now, don’t you go worrying about that.”

“You can’t keep me here.”

“We’re here to help you.”

“I don’t want your help. I want to give myself up. I did it, I killed her.”

“Here we are, the same room as you had last time. That’s nice isn’t it?”

“I’m not going in there. Please! Please! Somebody help me.”

“It’s got a lovely view of the garden, you liked watching the birds and the squirrels, remember?”

“Let me go. I want to confess. I did it.”

“No, you didn’t.”

“Like I did all the others.”

“Now, now, you’ve got yourself all worked up. It’s the things you have to deal with; maybe it’s time you thought about a change of career.”

“He told me to go back.”

“Who?”

“Him, him.”

“The voice?”

“No, my boss, because it was my turn, I was on duty.”

“That’s right, it’s your job. You’re a Scene of Crime Officer, a good one, but you’ve got yourself into a bit of a pickle again. We’ll soon sort you out.”

“No, listen to me, I killed her.”

“Just a little scratch, relax, there, all done. Now you can have a nice sleep and we’ll talk about it in the morning. Nurse? Nurse, can you help me undress him, please.”

“Sure. Come along then, off with your…what’s this, in your pocket? Looks like an evidence bag.”

“It is. It’s evidence. I murdered her. I strangled Alicia!”

“There’s a card or something in it. Better give it to the police officer who brought him in, could be important.”

You idiot. You stupid, stupid idiot.

You’re the idiot, you should’ve let me wipe it.

And you said her name. What if they haven’t identified her yet?

“Go away, please, I’m very tired.”

Great, they’ve well and truly drugged you up. Well, that’s it; you’re on your own now.

Please, go away, I’m very, very tired.

About the author

 

Retired Administrator Kate is enjoying sitting around and making things up. She’s had poems and a short story published by The People’s Friend; Flash Fiction in Secret Attic, Early Works Press and Briefly Write; and short stories published by Writers’ Forum, WriteTime and Scribble, and shortlisted in various competitions. 

Did you enjoy the story? Would you like to shout us a coffee? Half of what you pay goes to the writers and half towards supporting the project (web site maintenance, preparing the next Best of book etc.)