Death by Torchlight

© 2003 Ian Hobson

Rajesh was unaware that he was being followed. But then, he was in love and oblivious to all, except his plans to marry Laura. Not that he had asked her yet, but he knew that she would say yes. As he crossed the road and entered the park through the main gate, he checked his watch. He'd promised his father that he'd be home by ten. It was a warm July evening, with just enough daylight remaining for the shortcut through the park, and just enough time.

Rajesh knew that his father might be a problem. But there had been two other mixed marriages in the family, so the precedent was set. But he didn't care. He would soon be eighteen, and he loved Laura so much that it almost hurt. He checked his watch again and quickened his pace. To his left, the park was wooded, and a sudden gust of wind disturbed the leaves of the nearest trees. The turbulence overtook Rajesh and then petered out as it reached a single oak tree that stood beside the path. As Rajesh reached the tree, two teenage boys stepped out from behind it.

'Well look who it isn't,' said the younger of the two boys. Rajesh stopped. He recognised the one who had spoken; David Beckley, an ex-classmate, not that they had ever been mates. He stepped off the path and tried to walk around them but the two youths moved sideways blocking his way. Rajesh turned away but was immediately confronted by a third youth. He knew this boy too; Brian Cooper, Laura's ex-boyfriend, and a right nutter.

'What do you want?' Rajesh asked, bravely standing his ground.

'Just a little chat,' replied Cooper, with a smirk.

Rajesh knew that the three had more than just chatting in mind, and he tried to make a break for it, feinting right and then going left towards the centre of the park. But his assailants moved quickly to intercept him, Beckley bringing him down with a ruby tackle, and the three of them dragging him reluctantly towards the woods.

'Look, what do you want?' Rajesh asked again, struggling to free himself. But a hand was clamped over his mouth, preventing him from saying more. The light was beginning to fade now, especially as the boys entered the woods. When they were well away from the footpath, the three youths released Rajesh, but stood surrounding him. Cooper took a torch from his jacket pocket and shone it in Rajesh's face.

'You have a choice,' said Cooper menacingly, as he handed the torch to Beckley and then produced, and clicked open, a flick-knife. 'You stop seeing Laura, or I do some artwork on your face. I was good at art at school, wasn't I, Lamy?'

Beckley and the other boy smaned as Cooper waved the knife in Rajesh's face, its blade reflecting the torchlight. Rajesh now realised who the other boy was. His name was John Lambert. He'd been expelled from school for assaulting a teacher. Again Rajesh tried to make a run for it, pushing past Lambert, who grabbed at his shirtsleeve. The sleeve tore and Rajesh ran deeper into the woods, only to trip over something soft and then topple over into a shallow depression in the ground.

'Get him, Lamy!' Beckley shouted, as he shone the torch towards where Rajesh had fallen. But as Lambert sped after Rajesh, he too fell over the obstacle that had tripped Rajesh, coming down almost on top of him and cursing as he hit his head on something metallic.

Beckley laughed, but Cooper snatched his torch back from him and shone it onto the thing that the two boys had fallen over. 'Stone me!' he exclaimed. 'It's a body!'

Rajesh and Lambert scrambled to their feet and backed away, but Cooper took a closer look. The corpse was male, not very tall, well dressed, in a pinstriped suit and black leather shoes. It lay face down and seemed to be hunched over something. Cooper pushed with one foot, rolling the corpse over and half into the shallow hole in the ground that Rajesh and Lambert had just scrambled away from. Despite the growing darkness, it was obvious that the body was that of an oriental.

'Looks like a bloody Chinky,' said Beckley. But Cooper was more interested in what the corpse had been lying on. It was a small leather suitcase. He began to examine it, soon discovering that it was locked. He tried to cut into it with his knife but the leather was too thick.

Rajesh began to back away. He had no interest in either the body or the suitcase. He was just glad that he was no longer the centre of attention. But Lambert grabbed his arm and then pushed him towards the corpse. 'Hold on,' he said. 'We've not finished with you yet. Look in the Chinky's pockets and see if he's got some keys.'

'I'm not!' exclaimed Rajesh, backing away from the body again. Cooper was less squeamish. He stepped forward and bent over the corpse, searching in its jacket pockets and soon finding a leather key case, complete with a set of keys. He selected the smallest key and found it fit perfectly into the suitcase lock. And after opening the lid wide and shining the torch on the contents, he stood back and stared.

All four youths stood gazing at the money. The suitcase was full of it, neatly wrapped in small bundles. Cooper reached inside and removed just one of them, examining it by torchlight. 'Twenty pound notes,' he said. 'They're all twenty pound notes. There must be…' He quickly estimated the number of notes in the bundle. 'There's about five grand here. There must be at least two hundred grand all together, maybe more.'

'Probably drug money,' suggested Beckley. 'He's probably a Triad. Murdered for double-crossing his overlord or something.'

'Don't talk crap,' said Lambert. 'If he was murdered, why is the money still here? Probably just had a heart attack while he was burying his loot. Look… that's what I hit my head on; his bloody spade.' He gestured towards something, and Cooper shone the torch in that direction, revealing a wooden handled spade. Lambert reached for it, feeling its weight and then turning and stabbing the blade into the soft earth and leaning back on the handle.

'If there's two hundred grand, that's fifty grand each,' said Cooper, moving the torch beam back to the suitcase and then to Rajesh's face. 'That's if you're in with us?'

Rajesh, like the other boys, was thinking of what he could do with fifty thousand pounds; a deposit on a house for himself and Laura, perhaps? But what would his father say? He would never agree. He would insist the money be handed to the police. 'I don't want any money,' he said, looking at Cooper. 'I just want Laura. You leave me alone, and leave Laura alone, and I'll forget I was here. I've never seen the money, or the body, or any of you. You can keep it all.'

'We can't trust him!' exclaimed Lambert. 'He'll go straight to the police.' He took his weight off the spade but kept hold of the handle.

'I won't, I promise,' said Rajesh. His words hung in the air for a moment, as he began to slowly move away. But, with a fluid, twisting, movement that surprised not only Rajesh but the other two boys as well, Lambert swung the spade, hitting Rajesh hard across the side of the head. In the quiet of the woods the sound of the metal blade striking flesh and bone seemed deafening. Rajesh crumpled and fell forward, his head almost touching the feet of the oriental.

'You've murdered him,' said Beckley, incredulously. An owl hooted nearby, and Beckley turned and looked towards the sound, the panic in his mind growing as fast as the darkness.

'He may not be dead,' said Cooper, stepping over to Lambert, taking the spade from him and then stopping to think for a moment. 'Hold this and stand back.' He handed Lambert the torch and stood straddling Rajesh, swinging the spade towards his head. Again, the sickening sound of metal against flesh and bone. 'Your turn.' He offered the spade to Beckley.

'Why?' asked Beckley. 'He's sure to be dead now.'

'You hit him as well, Dave, and hit him hard,' said Cooper. 'That way we share the blame and the money, and none of us can shop the other two. If you can't hit him, then stab him with this.' He took the flick-knife from his jeans pocket and offered it to Beckley. But Beckley was backing away and shaking his head.

'A two way split is better than three,' said Lambert, moving around Cooper and closer to Beckley, but still keeping the torch beam on Rajesh. 'It's up to you, man.'

But Beckley had had enough; for no amount of money was he going to become a murderer. He turned, his intention to run back out of the woods, but Lambert was too fast for him. He dropped the torch and leapt at Beckley, grabbing his clothing and slowing him just enough to get a better grip of his collar, before pulling him backwards.

'Help me!' Lambert ordered Cooper, as he wrestled Beckley to the ground. Beckley was fighting for his life, punching and kicking and desperately trying to free himself from Lambert's grappling arms. But he froze, and a half-choke, half-gurgle, escaped from his mouth as Cooper's knife slid deep into the side of his neck. The torch lay on the ground nearby, it's beam picking out the gruesome scene: Lambert, still sprawled across Beckley and breathing hard, Cooper withdrawing his knife, and a final spurt of blood, looking more black than red, coming from the wound in Bickley's neck.

Lambert pushed himself unsteadily to his feet, retrieved the torch and shone the beam onto Cooper's face. 'Now what?' he asked.

Cooper's expression was glazed. He was stunned, yet elated, at the discovery of his own bloodlust.

'We should bury the bodies,' said Lambert. 'If we don't, they're sure to be found. It won't take the police long to work out you're involved.'

'Me?' Cooper asked. 'Why?'

'Dave was your mate, not mine, and that, Laura, lass you went out with… She might guess it was you that killed her boyfriend. Come on, we've got to get that hole made bigger.' Lambert looked around, then walked over to the nearest tree and wedged the torch into a fork in one of its branches, making a pool of light close to where the oriental lay half covering the shallow hole in the earth. He dragged the corpse clear, then picked up the spade and began to dig.

Cooper looked on, the knife still in his hand, Lambert's words still going through his mind. It won't take the police long to work out you're involved. He crossed the boundary between sanity and madness and rushed at Lambert, wielding the knife like a dagger and stabbing furiously at the back of his neck, soon breaking the blade, but still continuing until the life went out of Lambert and he fell in a heap.

Cooper looked at the blood-soaked and broken knife in his right hand. There was a groan. At first Cooper thought it was Lambert, but movement caught his eye. He dropped the knife, staggering backwards and almost falling over the suitcase-full of money. 'No,' he said, his voice almost a whisper. 'No, you're dead.'

The torchlight was growing weaker as its battery began to expire. But in its dim light, the oriental corpse was coming to life and getting to its feet and pointing something at Cooper, who saw, not an oriental in a soiled pinstripe suit, but the shadowy spectre of Death. The oriental pulled the trigger, and as the shot rang out, Cooper's head jerked backwards from the impact of the bullet.

>>>

This story was written for the BBC Chaucer short story competition and inspired by Chaucer's 'The Pardoner's Tale.'