Better late than never- Chapter 2

Chapter 2











         It was very dark in Margaret's kitchen although it was still only just past midday. For almost five hours, the team of scientists employed by the police department had searched the property, picked up finger prints and took pictures of the poor girl who was found dead in her flower beds in every single angle imaginable! They also took pictures of the garden, possible footprints and god knows what else? A gentle but impressively large female officer took the time to take Margaret's fingerprints so as to make sense of the ones taken near the house. She felt so numb she found it impossible to smile. As if her body was shutting down again, and she found herself prisoner in her own mind, screaming for help and kicking the imaginary door that kept her from expressing her true feelings.



         Tired! So, so tired! She felt like she could sleep for hundreds of years. If only she could snap her fingers and make everything disappear, bring her back to the days where she felt confident enough to have the energy to deal with each passing day. Her shop was her pride and joy and she lost that. Her husband was the love of her life and she lost that too, now, all she had left was a little dignity but the five police cars and dozens of officers combing her front yard had just taken that from her as well.



         She had to explain very much in detail the past 24 hours prior to this morning's incident. The simple task of remembering details became almost too painful to bear. Was it four in the afternoon or was it three thirty? Was it a Rover parked outside or was it not? So many bloody questions made her blood boil. All she wanted was to be left alone. Who could possibly hate her so much that they would pick a hooker up, slash her right, left and centre and drop her in her geraniums? Months she had to nurture the little bastards! First in pots, following the sun, then in earth near her stone bench. They looked glorious there! Simon had brought the bulbs back from a trip to France a couple of summers ago and he was the one who suggested putting them there. And now "Sissi Von Slutty" was making black pudding with her babies' roots and transforming her front porch into a butcher shop.

          Margaret felt enraged at the loss!



The female officer from earlier came back into the kitchen, sat down next to Margaret and place her hand gently on her arm.          



         "Mrs. Burrow?" she asked. "Are you ok?"





         Margaret's eye came back to focus and she realized that the sun was at its peak. It must have been way past lunchtime and that the growling coming from her belly could only be her stomach begging for some sort of sustenance. It was only when the lady officer repeated her question that she understood someone was speaking to her. She turned her head and found the soft smiling face of DC Washington and she almost wanted to smile herself, but couldn't.



         "Mrs. Burrow, do you have anywhere else to go? I mean, are you feeling unsafe here at all?" Her tone wasn't sarcastic or impatient. Margaret felt the kindness of that woman oozing from her every pores. Yet again, Margaret couldn't show antipathy or anger to loosen up the rigid feeling of chaos that was going on in her head. What was it with this particular morning that she couldn't have a go at anyone for what happened to her? One scapegoat would suffice, with hopefully enough balls to be able to take the full wrath she had been building since the discovery of slashed Barbie.



         "This is my home officer!" Margaret croaked. "I just wanted someone to come and take her out of my garden!"





         "Very sad what happened to that Lady!" DC Washington lowered her gaze and shook her head slowly.





         "Lady?" Margaret thought she'd misheard."Do you know the girl in my garden officer Washington?"



         "Her husband has reported her missing three days ago. Her name was Sonia Richmond, she was an active charity event organizer from the WI in London. She solely orchestrated the International WI Annual Charity Ball, apparently the most celebrity and royalty savvy party of the year, but never made it there! Her last witnessed appearance was at four o'clock that afternoon and until this morning no one has heard from her!"



         This was unsettling news to Margaret. It was so much easier to blame that poor woman for being trashy, now the anger has almost disappeared and Margaret was disappointed! She was the kind of woman that dealt with anger by treating it like kerosene. Using it to spread fire through her limbs and fuel the machine. Very unsettling news indeed!

         

         "Thanks you for worrying about me dear." Margaret placed her hands on hers. "I woke up next to my dead husband a year ago so I’m not shy of one more dead body. Send my deepest regrets to her husband and tell him I’ll plant some beautiful azaleas at the spot where she was found, in her memory."



         "That's really sweet of you Mrs. Burrow, I’ll make sure the message is passed. I'm convinced Mr. Richmond will appreciate the kind gesture. Although if you need help with that, I can ask the boys to help you?"



         "No dear! It will be fine!" Margaret snapped. "The only way to sort my garden out is with azaleas, the delicate shade of red and pink will be the only thing that will divert the attention away from the blood and they are way too delicate little things to be handled by big boys. I will do it as soon as you all leave. I can't let this get over me. I just simply can't let it happen!"



          Margaret's leg was now nervously bouncing up and down like a pneumatic drill trying to pierce the lino. She got conscious of it and suddenly got up and walked to the kettle because that's what she always did when she was nervous, she would run to the kettle and have a nice hot cup of sweet mint tea! The smell always took her places, and she found it soothing in times of crisis.



         "Ok Mrs. Burrow, we're all finished here now! I'll get the guys to pack up and clean up after themselves. Sorry for your traumatic experience, we will let you know of any progress. In the meantime take it easy Mrs. Burrow, and if things get tough you can always call the crime victim help line." DC Washington stood up and delicately placed the chair back under the kitchen table, and then she left, leaving Margaret mumbling to herself:



         "The only help line number I need right now is SOS gardeners not victims-who-moan-anonymous!"



          Anger kept bursting out in salve, making the need for that mint tea unbearable, the water took forever to boil and lead Margaret cursing for proper electric appliances, like a good reliable kettle to start.

         She looked up at the big clock above the arch. Three o'clock! She hadn't eaten a thing all day, no wonder she felt a bit tense!



         Margaret made herself some lunch. A nice Spanish omelet with half a kiloton of fresh red chilli would most definitely burn out any anger left on the inside, she thought. She was always a believer of curing the soul with food, and most of the time she took this quite literally. Like that time when she actually thought that she was too nice and sweet and decided to start drinking fresh lemon juice to counteract it. The acid burn she suffered the whole week after that got her in such a bad mood that she actually became a real dragon with everyone around her, which only confirmed the accuracy of Margaret's approach to self healing.



         After her lunch, the tingling sensation on her lips and the fire in her stomach felt like her body has had three rounds in a boxing ring with Mohamed Ali, although it did remove the raging anger that was boiling inside. The whole day was now compromised and she found herself completely lost as to what to do next. It had been a while since she has found herself in this situation and both time someone had to die. Why couldn't she have a simple bad day like everybody else without having to involve a cadaver on her doorstep? Why couldn't she just lose her keys or get her car pounded?



         Her daydreaming was interrupted by the ring of the telephone and Margaret hesitated before picking it up. She had this uncontrollable anguish that this was more bad news and quite frankly she could do without it for now!



         "Mrs. Burrow??" The voice on the other end of the receiver was quite plain and lacking of any warmth. Like a tax inspector with a bout of bad indigestion on the prowl for an easy victim.



         "Mrs. Burrow speaking!" Her voice was quite unsure. She might as well have answered with a scream. Her inability at controlling her emotions exasperated her instantly." Who is this?" she added.





         "My name is of no importance to you Mrs. Burrow. I am the bringer of death and I just wanted to know if you enjoyed my morning present to you? I have to say I selected her very carefully and I do hope that you appreciated the gesture?"





         This time Margaret let out a little squeal, an internal wave of terror grabbed her, and she felt her eggy lunch coming back with such power that all she managed to do was keep her mouth closed so the lot wouldn't be sprayed on her newly steamed out Persian carpet.

         

         The taste of semi digested chilli mixed bile only made her gag even more and she ultimately did spray the lot all over the living room floor, transforming the room into yet another murder scene. She threw the receiver away from her, not without hearing the deep, almost inhuman laugh of the caller. A laugh that chilled her to the core, a laugh that she would never forget in the whole of her existence.



          The world around her started spinning on itself and Margaret fell from the couch like a dead sack of potato before losing consciousness.