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Authors: Iain Edward Henn
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attempt to move. My mind kept turning to the prospect of life without Ruth.
A new life. Freedom.
And, of course, Alicia.
I knew then that there was no turning back.
Towards dawn I fell asleep and it wasn’t until midday that I was awoken by the sound of the phone. I reached groggily for the receiver. The sound of Ruth’s voice jolted me to my senses. ‘Hello, Ronnie. Saw your note last night when we got back.’
I cleared my throat and forced my words out. ‘Hello, Ruth. How are you feeling?’
‘Oh I’m fine now that I’ve had a good night’s sleep. But what a night! Poor Alicia came down with a dreadful virus on the trip home yesterday. She was in a terrible state. I brought her home with me and the local doctor came round and gave her something that put her to sleep. Went out like a light, she did.’
‘How is she?’
‘I’m sure she’ll be feeling a little better this morning. I suspect it’s one of those vicious 24 hour things. The doctor and I put her to bed in our room, which of course, is the only bed in the house and left me high and dry with nowhere to sleep. I was exhausted. Luckily enough our tenants up the road had a spare bed and I was able to spend the night there. But of course, I slept in.’
‘You’re at the rental property!’ My legs gave way and I dropped to the floor on my knees. The receiver remained wedged between my palm and my ear as though cemented there by shock.
Ruth’s voice droned on. ‘That’s right. I’m just heading back to our place now to check on Alicia. Oh and by the way, Ronnie, I absolutely love the new wallpaper. But for some reason, it’s peeling off the wall something terrible.’
• • •
The phone crashed to the floor and I left it there. I rose unsteadily to my feet and stumbled forward, knocking one of the chairs sideways across the room. The pit of my stomach was being torn, somewhere between anger and frustration and a deep, gnawing grief.
Alicia. Good God no…
I was startled by the sound of the doorbell. Who one earth…?
I was in no state to see anyone. I sat down, tried to ignore the ringing. It didn’t stop and then I heard a voice. ‘Mr. Pelman?’
I opened the door to two police officers. The larger and burlier of the two flashed his identification. ‘Senior Sergeant Astin,’ he said. ‘Mr. Ronald Pelman?’
It took me a moment to find my voice. ‘Yes?’
‘You’re to accompany us to the station,’ he informed me. ‘You’re being placed under arrest for the attempted murder of your wife.’ His words had the effect of a physical blow. My eyes watered and I felt like reeling back. ‘You have the right to remain silent…’
I went with them and kept silent. Alicia was dead and the gas would have dispersed so they couldn’t possibly have anything on me.
Nausea swept over me in waves and I had to suck in deep lungfuls of air to fight it.
At the North Sydney Police station they played me the audio tapes.
My voice.
And Alicia’s.
All the private conversations we’d had over the past month, except for any in which Alicia might have incriminated herself. She’d been smart enough not to tape those.
‘Alicia Morrison came to us about your plan,’ Astin revealed. ‘She’d become close friends with your wife and she wanted to help. She agreed to wear a wire and now your own words will give the prosecution all the evidence it needs.’
I couldn’t think of a single, solitary thing to say in my defence. I was led from the interview room to the charge room and I saw both Ruth – and Alicia, in one of the adjoining rooms.
I realized Ruth’s phone call had been a lie. She knew the police were coming for me, and she’d called in advance to tease me, lead me to think Alicia had been subjected to the arsine.
I stopped, stared through the window of the room. I caught just a glimpse of the two women holding hands underneath the table. Alicia’s right forefinger was gently stroking the top of Ruth’s hand.
My stare
A new life. Freedom.
And, of course, Alicia.
I knew then that there was no turning back.
Towards dawn I fell asleep and it wasn’t until midday that I was awoken by the sound of the phone. I reached groggily for the receiver. The sound of Ruth’s voice jolted me to my senses. ‘Hello, Ronnie. Saw your note last night when we got back.’
I cleared my throat and forced my words out. ‘Hello, Ruth. How are you feeling?’
‘Oh I’m fine now that I’ve had a good night’s sleep. But what a night! Poor Alicia came down with a dreadful virus on the trip home yesterday. She was in a terrible state. I brought her home with me and the local doctor came round and gave her something that put her to sleep. Went out like a light, she did.’
‘How is she?’
‘I’m sure she’ll be feeling a little better this morning. I suspect it’s one of those vicious 24 hour things. The doctor and I put her to bed in our room, which of course, is the only bed in the house and left me high and dry with nowhere to sleep. I was exhausted. Luckily enough our tenants up the road had a spare bed and I was able to spend the night there. But of course, I slept in.’
‘You’re at the rental property!’ My legs gave way and I dropped to the floor on my knees. The receiver remained wedged between my palm and my ear as though cemented there by shock.
Ruth’s voice droned on. ‘That’s right. I’m just heading back to our place now to check on Alicia. Oh and by the way, Ronnie, I absolutely love the new wallpaper. But for some reason, it’s peeling off the wall something terrible.’
• • •
The phone crashed to the floor and I left it there. I rose unsteadily to my feet and stumbled forward, knocking one of the chairs sideways across the room. The pit of my stomach was being torn, somewhere between anger and frustration and a deep, gnawing grief.
Alicia. Good God no…
I was startled by the sound of the doorbell. Who one earth…?
I was in no state to see anyone. I sat down, tried to ignore the ringing. It didn’t stop and then I heard a voice. ‘Mr. Pelman?’
I opened the door to two police officers. The larger and burlier of the two flashed his identification. ‘Senior Sergeant Astin,’ he said. ‘Mr. Ronald Pelman?’
It took me a moment to find my voice. ‘Yes?’
‘You’re to accompany us to the station,’ he informed me. ‘You’re being placed under arrest for the attempted murder of your wife.’ His words had the effect of a physical blow. My eyes watered and I felt like reeling back. ‘You have the right to remain silent…’
I went with them and kept silent. Alicia was dead and the gas would have dispersed so they couldn’t possibly have anything on me.
Nausea swept over me in waves and I had to suck in deep lungfuls of air to fight it.
At the North Sydney Police station they played me the audio tapes.
My voice.
And Alicia’s.
All the private conversations we’d had over the past month, except for any in which Alicia might have incriminated herself. She’d been smart enough not to tape those.
‘Alicia Morrison came to us about your plan,’ Astin revealed. ‘She’d become close friends with your wife and she wanted to help. She agreed to wear a wire and now your own words will give the prosecution all the evidence it needs.’
I couldn’t think of a single, solitary thing to say in my defence. I was led from the interview room to the charge room and I saw both Ruth – and Alicia, in one of the adjoining rooms.
I realized Ruth’s phone call had been a lie. She knew the police were coming for me, and she’d called in advance to tease me, lead me to think Alicia had been subjected to the arsine.
I stopped, stared through the window of the room. I caught just a glimpse of the two women holding hands underneath the table. Alicia’s right forefinger was gently stroking the top of Ruth’s hand.
My stare
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