A Casual Murder

A Casual Murder

Sheila Atkinson was busy at the moment. The company she worked for, ‘Paisley’s Furniture Covers’, had just mounted a publicity campaign and Sheila was getting more work. Sometimes it came from the most unlikely of quarters. Brentwood Village was an old tin mining town, run down and going to seed. A Mr. Simeon Todd, who had lived there all his life, required some new covers for his old and battered sofa. Sheila thought it might well be a waste of time. He would find out the prices and immediately lose interest.

“I can call today at two-thirty,” said Sheila over the phone.

“Oh alright, that will be fine,” replied Simeon. “I can make you a cup of tea while I look at the samples.”

Simeon was a youthful forty-five year old. His hair, still thick and plentiful, fell over his brooding, dark eyes. But in his mind he had many demons. He heard voices, strange, terrifying voices, that told him to do terrible things to innocent  people. But usually on his medication he was okay. He could cope with everyday life. It was the past which haunted Simeon. He had flashbacks to the small terraced house he had lived in with his father and mother. His father was an aggressive man. He used to beat Simeon’s mother. The violence, the terror, never left Simeon’s mind; it was part of him now, but he must try to be normal, try to live a normal life. The doctors had said that – he was fully capable of looking after himself.

The doorbell sounded at Simeon’s two bedroom cottage. It was his appointment time with Sheila. He looked out from behind the curtain in the bedroom. A large car was parked up on the kerb. Sheila, an attractive thirty something, got out of the car and looked askance at the humble property. It needed a paint job. The walls were flaking and it was a tad grimy too. Rain started to fall and Sheila looked eager to get inside.

Simeon opened the door which was in a small vestibule off the front bedroom. Sheila laughed to be coming in off the street into someone’s bedroom. How cheap, she thought. Simeon could sense her arrogance. He hated inside.

“I’ll just lock us in,” said Simeon, about to turn the key in the lock.

“Oh no, don’t do that,” said Sheila. “It’s just I went to a house once and that happened and I felt I couldn’t get away.”

“Oh I see,” said Simeon, “ fair enough, I’ll leave it open. It’s just I don’t usually like the idea of the house being open to all and sundry, in case people come in off the street.”

Sheila relaxed, but Simeon felt bothered, nervous. She wasn’t letting him take control.

“These are the samples of material I’ve brought for you to have a look at. I’ll just take some measurements for the sofa and some photographs as well.”

Sheila got on with it all very quickly, she didn’t want to be there any longer than necessary.

“They’ll think it’s a right dump,” said Simeon.

“Sorry,” said Sheila.

“Well, with you taking photos of my dirty, old sofa, they’ll think you’ve come to a right dump.”

“Oh no,” said Sheila, “we get all over.”

“Would you like some tea?” asked Simeon.

“No, I don’t think I have time. I have to get over to Grangewood by four and it’s quite a journey.”

Get the knife and do it, was all Simeon could hear in his mind. The voices were bad today. She was an attractive woman, a bit like a dolly, girlish in a way. Simeon knew he must do it, he must get rid of her. She was bad, bad like all the rest. No one cared for Simeon, no one ever had. His mind flashed back to the house of his childhood. It was his tenth birthday, the day his mother died. His dad, drunk and out of control, attacked his mother again and again, beating her senseless. The ten year old boy sobbed in the corner, not knowing what to do, wanting to help but not being able to do so. Just witnessing the violence, the blood, the carnage, and then the deathly silence.

Simeon slipped into the kitchen and grabbed a knife. He came up behind Sheila and plunged the knife into her soft body. She crumpled and fell, hardly making any sound. It was so easy, and such a relief for Simeon. Murder is easy, he thought, it’s what comes easy to me.

Sheila hadn’t said much, she didn’t need to. She was a snooty bitch at the best of times, at least she was to Simeon. Truth was, she was as innocent as his mother had been. If mother is to die, why not this bitch? It was just one of those things. He’d only been out of jail six months and he’d done it again. But what on earth was he going to do with the body?