Are you reading this because I’m dead? If I don’t write it, will I live? I know people do this kind of thing in books and movies but I feel like an idiot. I guess, if I am dead, it doesn’t matter.
Phillip, Jonathon and I buy – bought? – a lottery ticket together every week. We used our birthdays and other significant dates for the numbers. Last Tuesday, we won $17M.
Phillip and I have been dating for five months. During that time, he has repeatedly told me of his desire to open an auto parts store. He asked me several times to contribute towards his ‘start-up’ costs but, thankfully, I never had any money.
I dated Jonathon before I met Phillip. Several months after Jonathon decided we should stop being lovers but stay as friends, Phillip asked me out. I had reservations about dating Phillip as I thought either of them might become jealous. The two of them were friends long before I entered their lives. When I asked Jonny if it was all right with him if I dated Phillip, he flashed his sexy grin, wished us luck and said he hoped the three of us would remain friends.
Although Phillip said he didn’t care that I had dated Jonathon, he sometimes made snide remarks about him when we had an argument. On a couple of occasions, he asked how he compared with his friend in the bedroom. When I refused to discuss the matter, he took it as criticism and became sullen. One night, after the two of them had been out drinking, Phillip came to my flat and raped me. He later said it wasn’t rape, merely passionate sex. He wanted to know if Jonathon had ever been equally passionate with me. I never reported the rape – never told anyone about it. He later claimed it couldn’t have been rape, or I would have told the police about it. I feel ashamed of myself for all this but it’s one thing to write it down and another to do something. I could have asked Jonny for help but that would destroy his friendship with Phillip.
Phillip recently became more insistent on the subject of me lending him money (what money?) and continued to ask for comparisons between him and Jonathon. The situation became so bad that I made up my mind to end our relationship next time I saw him. Unfortunately, the next time I saw him was the day after our weekly lottery ticket won us the $17M and our world changed. I held the ticket and Jonathon checked our numbers each week. He called us both at lunchtime on Wednesday and excitedly shouted out the three of us were all $5.66M richer – or would be in a couple of weeks. He had quit his job as a construction worker. It would have been too much of a hassle for me to formally quit, so I just went out for lunch and never returned.
Jonathon hired a limo and collected Phillip and me. We toured bars, restaurants and clubs and partied into the night. At one point, Phillip said the three of us could open up a chain of auto part stores, maybe even look into the American market. Jonathon laughed and said he was going to use his money to have fun and travel. Phillip looked so deflated by Jonny’s response that I said we’d talk about it later.
When we finished partying, Phillip came home with me. After some drunken sex, he brought up his dream of the auto parts business and I told him I had other plans. He got angry and hit me several times. Then he calmed and said he was sorry and I foolishly forgave him. About an hour later, he started to discuss the matter again. He said that with $11.32M we could open up stores across Australia and would be able to buy in such quantity, we would get the lowest possible prices. We would be rolling in it. It was the same argument with which he’d tried to persuade Jonathon a few hours before. I told him once more that I would not invest in his scheme. The prick knocked me to the floor, kicked me and left.
Jonathon called the next day – yesterday. Was it only yesterday? So much has happened, I don’t know what day it is. He said how surprised he was that I had changed my mind about investing in Phil’s auto parts enterprise. Phillip had called to give him the so-called good news. I was flabbergasted. I told him I had refused the offer and Phil had hit me. An hour later, Jonathon arrived at my flat. He got upset when he saw my black eyes, cut lips and the bruising around my cheekbones.
I still feel a bit foolish writing this note, but if anything does happen to me, I can at least make sure that the police check Phillip out – and if nothing happens, no one will know. I hope.
I may as well admit to myself and whoever reads this (is it you Jonny?) that I never stopped loving Jonathon. When he finished with me, he broke my heart. Maybe Jonathon’s visit yesterday was the start of better times. But if I’m dead…this is too hard.
Celia Bradshaw
PS Phillip is Phillip Masters and he lives at Unit 6, 45 Bruton Road, Glen Waverley, Vic 3150
Jonathon handed the note back to the detective. “It’s like they say, you never know what a good thing you’ve got ’til it’s gone.”
The policeman empathised with him. “Yeah, well, we all know a lot of stuff with hindsight.”
“Any news regarding Phil?” Jonathon asked.
“Nothing. It’s as if he disappeared off the face of the earth. Celia turning him down again might have been the last straw. I wonder if he ever found out about her leaving her winnings to you. Did he ever say anything to you?”
“Nah, not a thing.”
“Hmph. Well, payment of your winnings will be put on hold until we clear things up. I’d see if I could get my job back, if I were you. Once we’ve finalised our investigation we’ll put his share into his bank account for a while. I’m sure the bank won’t complain. If he’s stupid enough to try and get it, we’ll get him.”
***
At Jonathon’s impulsive suggestion on Saturday morning, the two friends decided to spend a night in the bush. Jonathon told his friend he had found a remote lake while surfing Internet maps one idle afternoon and why didn’t they take off and fish it together. They set out immediately in Jonathon’s ute. In a rural town en-route, they purchased a tent, cooking utensils and provisions, as well as a wooden skiff. Jonathon had withdrawn his savings from the bank in anticipation of the millions to come and he negotiated a fifteen per cent discount for payment in cash. “And no bloody tinny for us! We’ll have a wooden skiff.”
They arrived at the lake in mid-afternoon and immediately set out with their rods and lures to see what they could catch. It didn’t take long for Phillip to get a bite and he stood up to play whatever was hooked on the end of his line. Jonathon also stood, pretending to give support to his friend as he reeled in the fighting fish. Instead, Jonathon swung his left arm around Phillip’s neck, stretched the man’s body upright and slightly backwards. Phillip let go of his rod and reached up to grasp Jonathon’s arm, allowing Jonathon the space he needed to swing his right arm around Phillip’s torso, plunge his long-bladed filleting knife under Phillip’s ribs and up into his heart. Although their struggle capsized the skiff, Jonathon maintained his hold of Phillip and twisted the knife. They sank beneath the lake surface but Phillip’s struggle for life was over quickly. Jonathon clambered back on board the skiff, all the while holding on to Phillip’s shirt collar. Once in the boat, he dragged Phillip’s dead-heavy body over the stern and left him face down in the water while he snared the man’s rod, cut the line and rowed back to the shore.
He collected his erstwhile friend’s canvas travel bag from the ute. In it, he put Phillip’s disassembled fishing rod, lures and other non-flammable possessions. The knife, from which he had cleaned his fingerprints, followed and then he added several heavy rocks to provide additional weight. Jonathon half carried, half dragged the bag to the skiff. He rolled Phillip onto his back, undid the man’s waist belt and looped its ends through the grips of the canvas bag. He rebuckled the belt and then rowed out to the centre of the lake. When he reached a spot where he thought the water was deep enough, he bundled the body and the canvas bag over the side of the boat. There was a moment when he thought the skiff might again capsize, but the wooden craft righted itself.
Back on land, Jonathon set about obliterating all traces of Phillip’s blood and DNA. He got an axe from the ute and set about chopping up the boat. When done, he rubbed all metal objects clean of his prints and hurled them toward the lake’s centre. He collected dead grass and twigs and started a fire onto which he piled the pieces of boat and oars. He stripped off his clothing and added the items to the flames, then burned all Phillip’s remaining possessions. He made sure Phillips’s credit cards, driving license and other identifying items were completely destroyed. When the fire burned itself out, there remained two charred pieces of oar handles. He did not consider them a risk, so he doused them, then hurled them into the bush. He scattered the fire’s ashes, doused the area and only then did he wash his body and put on some clean clothes. As the fabric brushed his skin, he realised he had caught the sun during the time elapsed since he stripped off his clothing. He would tell anyone who saw his body in the next few days that, as he had the two days in the bush alone, he had enjoyed living in the buff.
As he drove back to Melbourne, he thought of the $5.66M that would go to waste, but knew he could do nothing about it.
***
On Sunday evening, he called on Celia. When she failed to answer his telephone calls or his knocking on her door, he called the police. He told them of her accusations made against Phillip last Thursday and described her cuts and bruises. The police checked with Celia’s neighbours, then forced their way into her home. A search of the flat revealed her dead body on the bed and, in the drawer of the bedside table, her will and the note she had written.
***
Celia had been so pitifully glad to see Jonathon on Thursday and to entice him to her bed. His talk of travel had convinced her she had lost her last chance to re-ignite their romance. He had watched her screw up her bruised eyes and stretch her battered lips in ecstasy as she writhed beneath him. Afterwards, she willingly accepted his recommendation that they both make out wills in favour of the other. She also thanked him for the suggestion that she write a note telling of Phillip’s threats and beatings.
Jonathon knew Celia changed her bedding every Friday, so he returned to her apartment the next day and showed her his will that left everything to her and made her his executor. He knew Phillip had slept there since the sheets were last changed and his DNA was therefore in evidence. He would gladly inform the police that he had also slept with the woman.
Jonathon’s will and his solicitous behaviour convinced Celia she would not be alone in the world after finishing with Phillip. She showed her own will that left all her possessions to him, together with the envelope containing the letter she had written about her relationship with Phillip.
As she later lay happily spooned inside Jonathon’s large frame, he strangled her with the bra he had left casually draped over the headboard after unsnapping it from her body.
The next day, he and Phillip set out on their trip.
[Image Credit : Photo by Theo Laflamme on Unsplash]
by 
Peter Lingard
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A very interesting, story. Well done Peter.