The problem was obvious. Gerry was dead. As a doornail. You could tell from his fixed stare at the ceiling and his rigid little legs. The half-eaten box of chocolates lay at his feet, glistening with saliva.
+++++“Bloody great,” muttered Sharon. As she’d handed her the ‘thank you’ confectionery earlier, Jane’s voice echoed in her head: “These are for you. Chocolate is a canine killer so just make sure Gerry doesn’t get his greedy gob around any of them. Only let him have the doggie choc drops, please.”
+++++Sharon heard Pete flush the loo upstairs. Prospects of a weekend shag were probably down the pan now too.
+++++Pete bounced into the room, elated at finally getting Sharon alone after eyeing her up across the office for months. It didn’t help that they both still lived at home, but Sharon’s dog-sitting assignment was the perfect opportunity. They’d had a fantastic spag bol at Piccolini’s Italian, a bottle of chianti, and now it was hopefully time for dessert.
+++++He followed Sharon’s eyeline to the dead dog and the wrecked box of chocolates.
+++++“Ah, he doesn’t look too well.”
+++++“She’ll go mad. He was like a child to her.”
+++++“Accidents happen. You weren’t to know. I’m sure she’ll understand.” Pete put a comforting arm around Sharon’s shoulder.
+++++“No, she won’t. She made a point of telling me he had a sweet tooth.”
+++++“Ah.”
+++++The unnerving silence was broken by a siren outside as an ambulance flew past.
+++++“Right,” said Sharon, having a lightbulb moment. “You’re a burglar.”
+++++“Sorry?” said Pete.
+++++Sharon rummaged in the sideboard drawer and pulled out a hammer. She walked calmly over to Gerry, raised the hammer and dealt several blows to his lifeless head. There was a loud crunch as his skull splintered.
+++++“Now hit me,” she said, “and make it look convincing.”
+++++This was a new side to Sharon, thought Pete. Not one he’d observed in the office when she’d unjammed the photocopier for him, brought coffee to his desk, or smiled coyly at him over this evening’s spaghetti with all the promise of a passionate snog on the sofa and perhaps even a hand under the jumper moment.
+++++Now she stood, bloodied hammer in hand. It was more Lady Macbeth than Lady Gaga, but Bad Romance was playing on a loop in his head for some reason. Oh-oh-oh-oh-oh…
+++++“Go on. Give me a good whack.”
+++++“With the hammer?”
+++++“Not with the hammer, dummy. That would be dangerous. Just a couple of good slaps.” She jutted out her chin. “Go on.”
+++++“I can’t. I can’t hit you. I like you. Why would I hurt you?”
+++++ “OK, never mind, we’ll do it in a minute,” said Sharon impatiently. “Right, here’s the scenario. I popped into the shops. When I came back, I disturbed a burglar who’d killed the dog. He went for me, but I’d left the front door open, and you were passing by, heard me scream, came in and saved me, despite the threat to your own safety. You come out the hero, in fact, as do I to an extent, as does poor Gerry because he was defending his territory. It’s a win-win situation.”
+++++“Not for Gerry.”
+++++“Whose side are you on here? I didn’t mean to kill him.” Sharon waved the hammer in Gerry’s direction.
+++++“Could you – would you mind just – putting the hammer down?”
+++++Sharon looked from the hammer to Pete. She was pretty sure she could count on him, but if he didn’t comply, she would need a Plan B. She’d just hang on to it for now.
+++++“Look, I know Jane. She’ll be devastated, and if she knows I let him get his chops round those chox, she’ll see to it my name is mud. She’s mates with my boss, who has a hell of a temper.”
+++++“I don’t know…”
+++++“You don’t know what?”
+++++“OK. What happened to the burglar? Did he just run off?”
+++++“You chased him off.”
+++++“Was he a big bloke?”
+++++“What? Why does that matter? He doesn’t exist.”
+++++“Well, I’d feel better – braver – if I’d seen off a big bloke, maybe.”
+++++“What are you talking about?”
+++++“I was always picked on at school and could never defend myself—too much of a wimp. My mum and dad would be proud. I mean, it’d be in the local paper and all. MAN FIGHTS OFF MERCILESS DOG KILLER.” Pete gave a weak laugh.
+++++Sharon sighed with exasperation.
+++++“There was no burglar. We – are – making – it – up,” she said.
+++++“I know. I’m just thinking the next steps through.”
+++++The idea of Pete kissing her suddenly repulsed Sharon. She’d perhaps had a lucky escape. He was useless in a crisis.
+++++“This is not all about you, Pete. It’s about you helping me out of this mess.”
+++++“Of your own making, I might point out.” Pete perched on the arm of the sofa. “So, what did you pop to the shops for?”
+++++“I didn’t.”
+++++“You said you popped to the shops.”
+++++“It’s part of my alibi.”
+++++“I know,” Pete’s tone had taken on the timbre of a TV detective. “Which shop, what did you buy, and where is it now? Whatever did you buy? Because the police will want to know.”
+++++There was some sense in this, Sharon realised. Plus, Pete seemed to be taking the plan on board, so that was good. Even though she no longer wanted to snog him, she didn’t want to hurt him either. It was probably safe to put down the hammer.
+++++Gerry lay between them. A silent witness.
+++++“Let’s go into the kitchen. I’ll make us a strong cup of coffee, and we’ll get our story straight,” said Sharon, placing the hammer on the coffee table.
+++++“I’d rather have tea. Coffee keeps me up.”
+++++“Whatever.”
+++++They traipsed into the kitchen, where Sharon drew the blinds, washed her hands and made their drinks. They sat opposite one another at the small, round pine kitchen table. It all looked so homely. No sense of the bloodbath down the hall.
+++++“Okay. So, I popped to Tesco Extra at about – 8 pm?”
+++++“Bit early for burglars to call,” Pete suggested helpfully.
+++++“Just before 10 pm then because that’s when they close, and I realised I had no milk for the morning.”
+++++“Much better. Where is the milk? Did you get a receipt?”
+++++“I’ll have to go and buy a pint, won’t I?”
+++++“No, because you’ll be on their CCTV. Wrong time.”
+++++“Oh, well done, PC Pete. You clearly watch too many crime shows.”
+++++“Ah, but it’s coming in handy now, right?”
+++++How could she have fancied him? He was a laugh in the office, and he’d looked quite sexy by candlelight in the Italian earlier, although that could have been the chianti. Now she was noticing things like the spot on his chin, his fingernails being different lengths, and the fact he’d overdone the hair gel and now a stringy length of hair kept falling into his eyes.
+++++“Okay. I got to the shop just too late. They were closed.”
+++++“Better. That didn’t give the burglar too much time, though. How did he get in?”
+++++Sharon thought for a moment.
+++++“The back alley. Over the fence and through the back door. Probably saw me leave the house. Or never saw me but knew Jane was away?”
+++++“Now you’re thinking outside the box. So, we need to break in at the back.”
+++++“Description next. I’ll never remember. Let’s write it down. Then we’ll both learn it.”
+++++Sharon grabbed a magnetic shopping list pad from the fridge and a pen. “Tall, dark and …”
+++++“Cliché,” said Pete.
+++++“OK. Stocky, about 5’10”. Thirty five-ish.” Sharon scribbled it down. “Dark hair. Flat cap. No, balaclava, so I couldn’t see his hair.”
+++++“Cliché again. Balaclava.”
+++++“Beanie, then. Black.”
+++++“He was black?”
+++++“No, he was white. Black beanie.”
+++++“Wearing?”
+++++“I don’t know – jeans, a grey hoodie.”
+++++“A hoodie and a beanie? Excessive.”
+++++“He feels the cold. I don’t know.”
+++++“OK, moving on. You get back from the shop. No milk. You open the front door, hear someone moving about, clock the dead dog and scream. He attacks you.”
+++++“With the hammer?”
+++++“No, he punches you, like you said. Next thing you know, I’m in, like Flint, taking the bastard down. Bish bosh. But he’s slippery as an eel, and off he runs. I’ve saved you, and you fall gratefully into my arms. Sobbing. I don’t want to leave you in that state, so he gets away.”
+++++“My hero,” Sharon rolled her eyes. “OK, whatever. What was he looking for?”
+++++“TVs? Computers?”
+++++“Too bulky. Jewellery and cash it’d be.”
+++++“So, we need to trash the place a bit. Pull out some drawers – underwear drawer. That’s where women hide stuff.”
+++++“How do you know?”
+++++“It’s where my mum hides stuff.” Sharon had an unsavoury image of Pete rummaging through his mother’s smalls.
+++++“OK, let’s do it. Wait, I bet Jane’s got some disposable gloves somewhere. She’s Covid-proofed everything since Day One.” She checked the cupboard under the sink and pulled out a box of thin blue latex gloves. “Bingo.”
+++++Upstairs, they got busy pulling out drawers and opening cupboards, scattering Jane’s clothing all over the floor.
+++++“Great, let’s do the study next.”
+++++“Wait – they always look under the bed,” said Sharon, getting down on her hands and knees. She pulled out a plastic box on wheels and rifled through the summer clothes inside. A large, fat manila envelope lay at the bottom. Sharon took it out and peeked inside.
+++++“Bloody hell,” she said, tipping bundles of neatly stacked bank notes onto the carpet.
+++++“Christ. There must be thousands,” said Pete, thumbing through a wad of twenty-pound notes. “Are you thinking…?”
+++++“Who would know?”
+++++“She’s your friend, though. And you’ve already killed her dog.” The look Sharon gave him made Pete glad the hammer was downstairs.
+++++“She’s not my friend. We’re just in the same book club. I was doing her a favour and getting a shag pad into the bargain.”
+++++Pete momentarily felt wounded by being classed as a mere shag, but the scent of the money helped him over it.
+++++They sat in silence for a moment. The digital bedside clock winked as it turned the hour.
+++++“Right. The burglar stuffed the cash into his pockets, and some of it flew out in your fight with him. About a third of it, actually,” said Sharon. “That way, she gets to keep some of it at least, and we split the rest.”
+++++“Seems fair.”
+++++“More than fair, I’d say. She always chose really boring books at book club,” said Sharon, and began sorting the money into three piles. Then they took Jane’s portion and scattered it down the stairs and up the hall to the front door.
+++++“Now, go outside and break in the back door. Should be some tools in that lean-to-shed affair. Try not to make too much noise.”
+++++While Pete jemmied the door, Sharon washed up their tea cups and wiped everything down to eliminate any stray fingerprints made before donning the gloves.
+++++“Good. Now, before we call the police -”
+++++“Won’t they think it’s a bit odd that I was just passing – seeing as how we work together?” Pete interrupted.
+++++“They won’t know that, will they? And they won’t bother to ask. They’ll be too busy looking for the burglar. Anyway, before we make the call, you need to wallop me.”
+++++“I told you. I can’t.”
+++++Sharon rolled her eyes.
+++++“Oh, for God’s sake!” Then she took off like a sprinter down the hall and smacked into the front door.
+++++“Christ!” yelled Pete as she slid to the floor, blood oozing from a cut to her forehead made by the safety chain. Dazed, she staggered into the lounge, then collapsed, smacking her head on the glass coffee table. Pete winced.
+++++Sharon rolled onto her back, her arm flailing out and landing in some of Gerry’s blood, which had started to congeal around his furry head.
+++++“Are you okay?” Pete knelt down beside her. A large red bump was forming on her forehead.
+++++“Feel a bit dizzy, actually. I may have overdone it.”
+++++“It’s very convincing, though. Shall I dial 999 now?”
+++++“Wipe the hammer first. It’s got my prints on it,” she mumbled.
+++++Pete rushed to the kitchen, grabbed a tea towel and wiped the hammer.
+++++“All done,” he said. But Sharon didn’t answer. She was face down in a puddle of her vomit, half the contents of the spaghetti on the carpet.
+++++“Shit, shit, shit!” He lifted her gently and turned her over. She didn’t seem to be breathing. He thought about mouth-to-mouth, but the vomit put him off. Then she gasped.
+++++“Maybe call an ambulance, too,” she said weakly. Then her eyes rolled into her head, and she made an odd gurgling sound before falling quite dead into his arms.
+++++Pete sat cradling her, listening to the swish of traffic on the wet road. This wasn’t how he’d expected the evening to end. Then, he looked across at Gerry and noticed the dog smiling with a rictus grin. Having the last laugh. Lady Gaga began looping in his brain again: “Oh, oh, oh, oh, oh…..caught in a bad romance.”

[Image Credit : Photo by Geronimo Giqueaux on Unsplash ]

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Jan Fox

London-born Jan Fox is a former journalist living in Holywood, NI, where she recently relocated after living in Hollywood, California for 15 years. She began her journalism career in regional newspapers in England and also worked for digital platform ITV Teletext in London and as US Contributing Editor for Index on Censorship magazine in Los Angeles. She has also penned articles for the Sunday Times and the Daily Mail. She is currently working on her second novel, a psychological thriller. She also has her own weekly show on Bangor FM radio.

Latest posts by Jan Fox (see all)

• Bad Romance - January 29, 2023