Epitaph, page 24
He jerked his eyes open.
He recognised her voice.
All thoughts of plans and all preparation were discarded.
Paul sat bolt upright and grabbed at the man, who took a step back, almost slipping on the wet earth. It was raining and obviously had been for some time. There were several small puddles around the graveside.
‘Watch him,’ the woman shouted and Paul looked up to see that she was standing not six feet above him but less than eighteen inches.
He hadn’t been buried in a proper grave but, rather, placed in a hastily dug shallow hole.
The earth around it had not been packed tight but only tossed loosely on to the coffin lid. This had been no premature burial but merely a hasty act of concealment.
Paul tried to grab the man as he rose from the coffin.
He actually managed to rise to his haunches and beyond, his eyes darting back and forth between the man who stood in the grave with him and the woman who stood to his right.
He locked eyes with her briefly and saw the look of horror on her own face.
Then the man facing him grabbed the shovel and swung it.
The metal blade caught Paul on the side of the head and the impact sent him sprawling. For one terrible moment he thought he was going to black out again but he somehow managed to remain conscious despite the savage blow he’d sustained.
He landed face down on the wet earth but the sensation seemed to revive him and he rolled over on to his back in time to avoid a second swing of the shovel that missed him by inches and thudded into the earth at the side of the grave.
Paul kicked out and caught the man in the thigh rather than in the groin, as he had intended. However, the blow was enough to make him stagger and the man stumbled slightly as he tried to pull the shovel free to swing it again. But Paul too grabbed for the shaft and gripped it with one bloodied hand.
The other man was stronger and he tugged the shovel free from Paul’s grip.
‘Help me,’ he shouted to the woman, but she was now standing transfixed, watching the struggle but seemingly helpless to intervene.
‘Gina.’
It was Paul who called her name.
He could feel something warm running down the side of his face and realised that the impact of the shovel must have opened a cut just below the hairline, but that seemed unimportant now as he ducked to avoid another blow from what was fast becoming a deadly weapowe.
The woman was looking at him, dumbstruck.
‘Help me,’ Frank Hacket roared again. ‘He’ll get away.
’ He caught Paul in the ribs with a powerful blow that knocked the wind from him and cracked a bone. Sharp pain lanced through his side but he fought on, advancing towards his attacker, launching himself at the man who couldn’t reset himself quickly enough to repel the assault.
Paul slammed into him and knocked him off his feet as the woman screamed.
‘You fucking bastard,’ Paul shouted, pushing his hand into the man’s face, trying to shove his head into the soft dirt below.
Frank Hacket brought one knee up into Paul’s groin with incredible force and the pain forced him to roll to one side.
He tried to rise but Hacket swung the shovel again and connected with a heavy blow across Paul’s shoulder. The impact knocked him sideways and he slipped in the mud as he tried to get up. Hacket hit him again and, as Paul raised his hand to protect his head, the shovel shattered his left wrist.
White-hot pain enveloped his arm and he fell to his knees, unable to clench his fist, so great was the pain.
‘You murdering bastard,’ Hacket shouted, advancing on him.
‘I never touched your daughter,’ Paul screamed. ‘I swear to God.’
‘You said you killed her,’ Hacket reminded him, his face contorted with rage. ‘You told us everything.’
‘I made it up to get out of that coffin,’ Paul said, trying to back away.
Gina Hacket moved nearer to the two men, her eyes darting back and forth.
‘Paul,’ she murmured.
‘I never touched your daughter, Gina,’ Paul gasped. ‘You know I wouldn’t do something like that. You know me.’
‘But all those things you said,’ she muttered. ‘How could anyone make up things like that unless they’d done them? How could anyone pretend to have feelings like the ones you talked about? You couldn’t lie about everything.’
‘He wasn’t lying,’ Frank snarled. ‘That’s why he’s here now.’
‘I lied about everything,’ Paul told them. ‘I used my im agination. Think about it. What information did I give you that you didn’t already know? I asked you questions about what the police told you. I didn’t give you information, I just embellished stuff that you told me. When you asked me something specific I couldn’t tell you. You asked me the colour of her uniform and I couldn’t tell you. If I’d killed her I’d have known that. Think about it. I knew that in your state you’d never realise. I knew that you’d believe me because you wanted to.’
‘You killed my daughter,’ Frank Hacket hissed at Paul. ‘You fucked my wife and you killed my daughter.’ He turned to look at Gina with hatred in his eyes. ‘I should have buried you in that fucking hole with him, you slag.’
‘You knew all the time?’ Gina murmured.
‘About you and him?’ he rasped. ‘Of course I knew. I’m not as stupid as you think I am. You’d be surprised at how many times I’ve followed you to that grotty little hotel where he takes you. I’ve waited outside there dozens of times knowing what you two were doing in that room.’
Gina took a step back, her feet sinking in the mud.
Paul was standing motionless, the rain coursing down his face.
Frank held the shovel before him, ready to strike again. It seemed just a question of which one of them he chose to hit first.
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‘Why like this?’ Paul wanted to know. ‘If you knew then why go to such lengths to get back at me? Why not just run me down in the street?’
‘You deserved to suffer,’ Frank told him. He glared at Gina. ‘Both of you. I knew that you’d recognise his voice straight away unless I did something to the microphones and speakers inside the coffin. If you’d known you were talking to your boyfriend then you’d never have gone along with this. Why do you think he had a pillowcase covering his head when I brought him out? I couldn’t let you see his face. But to have you talking to him as he died, that was real justice.’ He smiled crookedly.
‘Frank, I’m sorry,’ Gina murmured.
‘Don’t insult my intelligence by apologising,’ he snapped. ‘How many times have I heard your apologies in the past? How many times will I hear them in the future? Keep your apologies, Gina. You don’t mean them anyway.’
‘Did he kill Laura?’ Gina asked, looking at Paul and then at her husband.
‘Of course I didn’t,’ Paul snapped. ‘He wants you to believe that because he wants you to help him kill me.’
‘Shut your mouth,’ Frank rasped. ‘Murderer.’
‘Gina, you’ve got to believe me,’ Paul pleaded. ‘Why would I do that? I’m not a murderer and I’d never hurt a child. I told you what you wanted to hear because I wanted to get out of that coffin. I made it all up. Nothing was true. You should know that.’
‘What about the other things you said?’ Gina enquired. ‘About hurting people? Hurting your girlfriend. Was that true?’
‘You wanted a confession and you got one,’ Paul told her flatly. ‘I’d have said anything to get out. I’d have done anything to get out. Anyone would.’
‘Liar,’ snarled Frank. ‘You told her what happened because that was what you did.’
‘You know that’s not true,’ Paul countered. ‘The only reason you wanted me dead was because I was seeing your wife. It was never anything to do with your daughter’s death.’
‘Seeing my wife,’ Frank sneered. ‘I like your choice of words. Very discreet. But, then, I suppose both of you learned to be discreet during your affair.’
‘Frank, please,’ Gina said quietly. ‘You said you wanted it to finish here and it should.’
‘She’s right,’ Paul said. ‘Finish it now. Let me walk away and you’ll never see me or hear of me again. I’ll leave here. I’ll go away.’
‘And you think that will make things better?’ Frank chided. ‘You think that will stop all the pain that you’ve both inflicted?’
Frank hefted the shovel before him menacingly, his eyes again darting back and forth.
The rain continued to lash down.
Paul wondered if he could turn and run. They didn’t appear to be in a graveyard but on a piece of waste ground. The hole that he’d been lowered into was less than two feet deep, hastily dug and not even properly rectangular in shape. Rain was already collecting at the bottom of it.
‘Gina, tell him I wouldn’t hurt your daughter,’ Paul said tentatively. ‘You know that.’
‘Don’t speak to her,’ Frank snapped. ‘Who are you going to believe, Gina? How many lies has he already told you? What’s he promised you when you’re together? What’s he told you he’ll give you that he never will? He’s a liar, you know that. You know you can’t trust him. Why believe him when he says he didn’t kill Laura?’
‘On my mother’s life,’ Paul said. ‘I don’t even know what your daughter looks like.’
He took a step towards Gina, who looked first at Frank then met Paul’s gaze. Rain was running down her cheeks and Paul suspected that some of it was mixed with tears.
‘He killed her, Gina,’ Frank insisted.
‘I would never hurt anyone,’ Paul told her, moving closer.
‘He’s a liar,’ Frank went on. ‘A stinking liar. How many more of his lies are you going to listen to?’
Gina looked imploringly at Paul, her eyes wide, her lips slightly parted. He took another step towards her.
Frank lifted the shovel a little higher.
‘Why would I do it, Gina?’ Paul asked quietly, some of his words lost beneath the increasingly heavy rain.
She looked blankly at him.
‘He’s lying,’ Frank said. ‘Like he always lies to you. Has he told you he’ll leave his girlfriend and run away with you? I bet he has. I’ll bet he’s even told you he loves you, hasn’t he?’
‘No,’ Gina murmured. ‘He’s never done that.’
‘Because he doesn’t love you and he never will,’ Frank went on. ‘Not the way I do. He wouldn’t forgive you the way I have. He doesn’t want you for anything else except those sweaty afternoons in that filthy hotel.’
Paul took a step nearer to her.
‘He’s crazy,’ Paul said quietly. ‘He’d have to be to bury me the way he did. What kind of man does something like that? He’s insane. Don’t listen to him, Gina.’
‘I did it for you,’ Frank insisted. ‘For Laura.’
Gina sniffed back tears and kept her gaze fixed on Paul, who was now only a foot or so from her.
‘What’s he ever done for you?’ shouted Frank. ‘Nothing except lie. And now he’s lying again.’
Paul looked at Gina and smiled gently.
She was sobbing quietly now.
‘You know it’s not true,’ he told her soothingly.
‘Then tell her the truth, tell her you love her,’ snarled Frank. ‘Go on, tell her.’
Paul put out a hand to touch her face.
It was then that Gina pulled the knife from her jacket pocket.
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Paul saw the blade as it turned in the air, jerked free of Gina’s jacket.
He took a step back, his smile fading rapidly.
‘Tell me the truth,’ Gina said breathlessly, her gaze fixed upon him.
‘I’ve told you,’ Paul protested.
‘About Laura,’ she went on.
‘How many times do I have to repeat it?’ Paul told her exasperatedly. ‘I never killed your daughter, Gina. He told you that because he wanted me dead.’ Paul jabbed a finger at Frank. ‘He found out about us and he wanted revenge. It was never anything to do with your daughter.’
‘So what about the others?’ Gina said, turning her head to look at her husband. ‘Why did they have to die? Did you know they were innocent as well?’
‘They could have been the killer,’ Frank explained.
‘Others?’ Paul blurted. ‘You’ve done this to other people?’
‘We would have done it to a hundred men if it meant punishing the one who murdered Laura,’ Frank told him.
‘But you picked on me because of my relationship with Gina,’ Paul said.
‘Relationship?’ Frank grunted. ‘How can you call it that? How can you dignify it by calling it a relationship? You met up for sex when you felt like it. When you could sneak away together. Don’t try and call that a relationship.’
‘Whatever you want to call it, that’s why you put me in a fucking coffin and tortured me?’ Paul protested.
‘Do you blame me?’ Frank bellowed, raising the shovel before him.
Paul readied himself for the attack he felt sure would come.
‘So what you said about taking something from Laura, that was a lie, too?’ Gina offered.
‘It’s all been lies, how many times?’ Paul told her. ‘I knew you’d never let me out of that coffin unless I confessed. I couldn’t confess because I hadn’t done anything so I had to invent something. Telling you I’d taken something from your little girl was my last chance. I knew if you didn’t go for that then I was dead.’
Gina looked at Frank, tears now openly rolling down her cheeks.
‘We’re never going to find him, are we?’ she said. ‘The man who killed Laura will get away with it.’
‘What more can we do?’ Frank asked her.
‘I’m so sorry about your daughter,’ Paul offered.
‘And are you sorry about what you did to our marriage?’ Frank wanted to know.
‘I never meant anyone to be hurt,’ Paul confessed.
He looked at Gina and smiled thinly.
‘Did you love me?’ she asked, sniffing. ‘Would you ever have loved me?’
‘We both knew what we were involved in, Gina,’ Paul told her almost apologetically. ‘I would never have hurt you.’
‘But you never loved me,’ she cried.
Paul swallowed hard.
‘Did you?’ she sobbed.
He took a step closer, wanting to comfort her, struggling to find the words she wanted so badly to hear.
‘I would never have hurt you,’ he murmured, one hand outstretched towards her. I swear it.’
‘What would you swear on?’ Gina asked tearfully. ‘You made me swear on Laura’s soul.’
‘I had to. It was the only way I could get through to you,’ Paul protested.
Frank dropped the shovel in resignation. It landed with a wet thud at his feet.
‘It’s over,’ Paul whispered. ‘Everything finishes here and now. I’ll walk away. Neither of you will see me again. I won’t call the police. I won’t press charges. Let’s all get on with our lives. Let’s all grab our second chance with both hands.’ He even managed a smile.
Gina looked directly at him, her eyes overflowing with tears, a look of despair on her features.
‘For eighteen months you wouldn’t speak to me,’ she sobbed.
‘It wasn’t that I wouldn’t speak to you,’ Paul countered. ‘I didn’t know what I could have said that would have helped. I thought it would be best for both of us if we didn’t see each other.’
‘I couldn’t contact you,’ she roared at him. ‘I couldn’t even speak to you on the phone. You wouldn’t return my calls when I rang you at work and at the time I needed you most.’
Frank shot her an angry glance.
‘When Laura was killed I wanted to speak to you,’ Gina continued, the volume of her voice receding even if the fury didn’t. ‘I needed you but you didn’t care.’
‘I thought it was best to stay away,’ Paul said apologetic -ally. ‘I didn’t want to intrude. I knew what you must be going through.’
‘You had no idea what we were going through,’ Gina snarled. ‘None at all. How could you?’
‘I’m sorry,’ Paul offered perfunctorily.
‘Sorry?’ she gasped. ‘So did someone else take my place for a few months? Did you find someone else to fuck while you couldn’t fuck me?’
‘Don’t be silly,’ he cooed. ‘Try and understand why I couldn’t see you then. If I could have I would. I’m sorry if you thought I’d hurt you.’
Paul took a step towards her, his hands outstretched.
‘I’m sorry,’ he repeated and a faint smile flickered on his lips. ‘Forgive me?’
Gina moved nearer to him, tears still coursing down her cheeks.
She was still crying when she rammed the knife into his throat.
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The blade slammed into his larynx, sheared through it and penetrated as far as his spine.
Paul tried to make a sound but his windpipe had been severed and the only noise he could utter was a liquid gurgle as blood jetted from the wound. He pulled feebly at the hilt of the knife, trying to wrench it free, but the handle was slippery with his blood and he couldn’t get a good enough grip on it.
His lips moved soundlessly as he tried to mouth words. Inside his head, however, the words formed and stood out briefly with searing radiance.
You’re dying. Look at the blood.
There was curiously little pain apart from the edges of the wound. Paul was aware of a startling coldness around the blade, even the part of it lodged in his throat. The blood was pouring down his chest, soaking into his robe and spattering the wet mud at his feet.
Gina and Frank Hacket watched him silently, seeing him drop to his knees before them.
Gina had stopped crying and was now standing motionless, her hands at her sides as she watched Paul dying before her.
Not now. Not like this. I got out of that coffin and now I’m going to die like this. It isn’t fair.
