The Long Drop To Eternity Page 2

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  Two nights had passed and the conspirators had perfected their plan; their template for the perfect murder. It all seemed so flawless, so absolute, that nothing could possibly fail. No one knew of their relationship or their secret assignations. Everything had been conducted out of town and never at the same place twice. Motels, diners or parks. Never the same place, always somewhere new and different. There was nothing to tie them together. To the world, Dennis and Celia were strangers; two perfectly unconnected individuals that had never met. As different as oil and water. She, the wealthy and expensive corporate wife of a successful industrialist, and he, a small businessman involved in engineering that was making good; both moving in different social circles. Both evidently unrelated.

  It couldn’t have been so right. So perfect. And Celia knew exactly how this was going to play it out.

  And after a dummy run the day before Tuesday, Dennis was impressed with Celia’s ingenuity. She had worked it all out to the most minute detail. And now, it was time to get rid of Simon once and for all.

  Tuesday night was easing its way into the early hours of Wednesday morning. Dennis was sat waiting in a stolen Austin Cambridge. He wore black leather gloves. Not one speck or a print had been left in the car. It had been easy to steal and he had taken it from outside a house in the suburbs at two in the morning the day previous. During the daylight hours, he had stored it under cover in one of his storage lock-ups on the outskirts of the town. A plate change later, and he was sorted. Sorted and ready to put Celia’s plan into action.

  Beside him, under a newspaper, lay a .22 calibre Colt Woodsman. It had been smuggled into the country two years ago by Dennis during a visit to the States. Clean and unregistered, it had never been used. It had been stored in an oily cloth in his bedside cabinet, ready for the right moment to be used. Now was the time.

  Dennis sat there in the darkened lay-by, waiting. He gripped the steering wheel tightly. He felt a pang of anxiousness. Keep calm, this is natural, he thought. He kept telling himself the same thing over and over again. He opened the window and took a deep breath. The night air was cool and fresh. The nearby trees rustled in the light breeze. Not a single car passed by. It couldn’t have been more perfect. Now it was just a question of being patient and waiting.

  Time ground by, coming close to 1:30am by the time the Mercedes 300SL roared by. It flashed by through a curtain of moonlight, its distinctive silver paintwork a blur. Smiling, Dennis started the Austin and swung the car onto the road, accelerating after the Mercedes.

  Keeping to a safe distance, Dennis gradually closed the gap between him and the Mercedes coupe. He drew closer, flashing his headlights. The car slowed and moved towards the kerbside, Dennis following suit. The expensive Merc came to a smooth halt and stopped. Dennis pulled in behind the car and got out, approaching the driver’s side. The window of the Mercedes opened and a man turned to stick his head out into the cold night. He was middle-aged and greying, immaculately dressed in a dinner jacket. As Dennis came close, he could tell by the way his eyes were that he was far from sober.

  “What’s the problem? Why were you flashing your headlights at me?” The voice was slurred. The man was inebriated and his eyes were bloodshot.

  Simon driving threw Dennis’s flow of conversation. He hadn’t planned for this. He had expected him to be a passenger, and when he checked he saw that Celia was sat in the passenger seat.

  Celia gave Dennis a sorry look. No doubt this prize chump had wanted to drive even when drunk.”

  “Your rear tyre is flat. Looks like you have a puncture,” said Dennis, avoiding eye contact with Celia. “You’d better check it.”

  Simon made some kind of protest and opened the door. He virtually slid from his seat and then staggered to the rear of the car, holding the side of it with his right hand.

  “Which tyre has the puncture? I see no puncture,” he mumbled irritably.

  “It’s this one, right here,” said Dennis and moved towards the rear of the car. He watched as Simon bent lower, the rear of his head exposed.

  “I can’t see any problem. I can’t see anything at all. I mean, stopping people at this ungodly hour!” He went on, mumbling aggressively, trying to keep his balance as he arched forward. “What a bloody waste of time this is!”

  The Colt Woodsman almost kissed Simon’s head when Dennis pulled the trigger once, twice, and then a third time. A trio of sharp cracks raced across the night sky. Simon slumped forward onto his knees then rolled onto his side. He didn’t even let out a cry of agony. The booze would have dulled so much, and as those tiny slugs tore into his brain, Dennis doubted he would have felt a thing. For a bully like Simon, his death had been a humane one. Probably too humane.

  Dennis raced round the car to speak to Celia. She was hiding her face in her hands when he opened her door. The sound of the shots had clearly frightened her.

  “It’s done, the pig is dead,” said Dennis calmly. “We need to get you out of the car and put the next stage of the plan into action.

  “But, Dennis!” she protested. “Isn’t there another way?”

  Dennis shook his head. “And make it all look so obvious? No way, this has got to look like a robbery gone wrong.”

  Celia eased herself out of her seat and walked towards the fencing of the field. She clung onto wooden stake for support. Fear had taken over her body. She looked even paler in the moonlight. There was no going back now. It was done. Simon was out of her life and she avoided looking at his corpse. She had detested him in life and his death hadn’t lessened her animosity.

  “Just get over the fence and start to run. I’m good with this gun,” said Dennis. “I’ll wing you in the right shoulder. You’ll feel the pain but you’ll be able to make it to the farmhouse in the distance. Just over there. Just tell them that you were robbed and that the robber shot you and your husband.”

  “I – I’m scared,” said Celia.

  Dennis kissed her. He held her tight. He knew that they would be together now. She could get his money and then they would meet up in a few months time and fall in love for the whole world to see. No more secret meetings or sordid encounters in cheap motels. Now it would be for real, a true relationship and then marriage. Happy ever after. A perfect end to a perfect murder.

  Celia climbed over the fence, tearing part of her dinner dress on some barbed wire. She cursed but he smiled. The dress may have been ruined but now she had him forever. Nothing could stop them now.

  “Run, and let me get a clear shot at you,” said Dennis, and he watched her hitch up her dress and run, losing a court shoe in the process.

  Dennis stepped back and aimed the Colt. She fell nicely into his sights. The moonlight was perfect, giving his target just enough illumination. She ran onwards, across the field, her long hair tousled.

  He stepped back and partially tripped on Simon’s corpse. The Colt jolted in his hand and went off. He watched her fall and cried out “Celia!”