Sunday, September 03, 2006

Heavy petting part III

Dear blogerati

You may have read the last post in utter astonishment at the turn of events. Not as astonished as I was to be faced with what appeared to be a horrendous case of murder transported into my own living room. If you are new to this story, please read part I then part II before starting this episode. We rejoin the story at the point where I am about to confirm to myself the horrific act that Ravel has perpetrated.

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'Silent witness'


I stood in the same spot for some seconds, fighting the double urges of weeping uncontrollably and throwing up. Ravel remained out of view, possibly lurking in the shadows so that I might not see the malevlolent delight on his face. I peered upwards at the celing of the gloomy lounge and made some pathetic gesture with my lips that I needed help. No answer came down from the heavens, and I knew at that moment that I was truly alone. Only a miracle, etc etc.

I was still standing at the girls feet. I could still hear Dolores snoring and gave brief thanks that at least she couldn't see me in this state. I felt totally castrated from any rational processes. Every possible scenario started to roll through my mind. I could simply run and keep going until I found a place to hide, bury the body and pretend nothing had happened, phone the police and confess my unwitting role in a heinous crime or claim it was a terrible accident.

All but one of these scenarios involved lying. I would either be lying to myself, the authorities, or the memory of the dead girl at whose feet I stood. None of them were acceptable. I, Joseph McCrumble, would not be able to face life if it meant perpetrating so many un-truths on such a grand scale. And so, through a gradual resoration of logic, I came to the conclusion that the best course of action was to phone the police.

First, I needed to face the fact that there really was a scantily clad corpse on my sofa. All I had to do was turn around and look at the girls mangled face. I suspected that Ravel had done little to mop away the gory mix of pizza contents and gore, and I could feel my stomach tightening even as I closed my eyes and turned around.

Not being able to see with my eyes closed, I used the girls body as an aide to the route towards her head. With my left hand I felt my way up her legs, past the still-hitched skirt, over her bare midriff, over her prominent breasts...

I was at the face. Under no circumstances was I prepared to touch her mangled visage and at that point I knew that I had to open my eyes. But something was wrong with my eyelids. A mechanical problem from deep in my subconscious was preventing them from opening. The best I could do was flicker them half way before they shut again.

What I saw was not what I expected. I knew that Ravel had performed some crude cleaning operation on the girls face, but from my obstructed viewpoint I could see no evidence of a wound at all. There was no mass of gore - in fact I couldn't see any blood at all.

My vassilating eyelids provided my eyes with barely enough of photons required to construct a valid image. I needed to get a closer look, so bent down in front of the girls face. By placing my left hand on the girls midriff I was able to steady myself enough so that I could lean right over the body. This, I assumed was the best way to detect the location of the bullet wound. Not too close otherwise I wouldn't be able to focus, so I positioned myself at about 13cm away from her skin, and formed a sweep pattern in my head which would proceed from her chin up to her hair in several lateral movements.

Breathing heavily and with trembling eyelids, shaking hands, racing heart, I began my search.

Chin: clear.
Mouth: clear, closed
Lower left cheek: clear
Nostrils: clear
Lower right cheek: clear
Upper right cheek: clear
Nasal bridge: clear
Upper left cheek: clear
Upper left eye: clear, open
Upper right eye: clear, open
Right forehead: clear
Left forehead: clear

Surely I had missed something. There was too much mess before. Ravel must have shot her at point blank range. I performed my sweep again

Chin: clear.
Mouth: clear, closed
Lower left cheek: clear
Nostrils: clear
Lower right cheek: clear
Upper right cheek: clear
Nasal bridge: clear
Upper left cheek: clear
Upper left eye: clear, closed
Upper right eye: clear, open
Right forehead: clear
Left forehead: clear

More than a little bemused I was about to start my third sweep when I heard Ravels voice from behind me. I turned and managed to ascertain that he was indeed there, towering above me and still.....smiling.

'What the fuck are you smiling about?' I hissed.

'Boss, I made the spare room up. She can stay there tonight. We kick her out in the morning.'

It was just at the word 'kick' that my fog-clouded mind recounted the results of my last full sweep of her face. Strangely, at the very same instant, I was freed from my my oscillating eyelid problem by the impact of a bejewelled fist approaching from the left at about 250 miles per second. The fist impacted on my left cheek bone with enough force to knock me clean backwards onto the floor. As my head hit the floor, I simultaneously felt the impact of a be-sandled foot hitting my crotch area. Fortunately, the foot was not aimed very accurately, and only my left testicle felt the full force. Still, it was enough for my brain to register that something untoward had happened and stimulate my vocal cords to let out a piercing shreak that would have put several opera divas to shame.

'It's a miracle!' I managed to cry, before passing out.

The next thing I remember is waking up in the spare room feeling immediately wet. Dolores was standing over me with an empty bucket. I thought for a moment she might be about to attack me aswell but instead she put it down on the floor and began interrogating me as to what had happened. I tried to explain as best I could that there might have been a misunderstanding, but my normally efficient ability to talk myself out of trouble simply wasn't working. She knew it, and eventually gave up the interrogation with the words 'I'm going tomorrow with the kids. Deal with this one yourself'

Too scared to move anywhere, lest I be attacked by any more reanimated corpses, I elected to stay in the bedroom, the duvet pulled up to my eyes. I stayed like that until overtaken by sleep. I remember Dolores coming to me at some point in the night, then nothing more until a sheep outside bleeted very close the window. Panic momentarily set in, before I realised that I was still in the Institute and not actually in a police cell. There was no reply when I called for Dolores, so I tried Ravel instead. He dutifully appeared within seconds.

'Where's Dolores?' I asked

'Dolores take the twins on holiday. She tell you.'

'Oh. Yes. Right. Is the girl...alive?'

'Yes boss. How she could kick your nuts if she was dead?'

'Where is she now...not here is she?'

'I take her to police station. She make statement. They come to visit you soon'

'Oh shit, not again'

'Not quite boss. This time she claim you grope her everywhere.'

'Oh shit. I thought you killed her.'

'No boss. I take her out like you say. What you think? I don't understand English? If you wanted me to kill her you should have said.'

He wasn't smiling.

'Good grief man. No, I do not want anything like that. Bring me some tea will you?'

And so the truth eventually emerged. Ravel had really taken the girl on a date. She had been drunk even when Ravel had picked her up at her home. She drank more at the pub before they went to the restaurant and managed to down a carafe of house red before the pizza even arrived (the restaurant is not noted for its efficient service). She had been trying to stand when she collapsed, falling heavily into the deep-pan pizza. The restaurant owner had ordered them to leave immediately. Ravel had then carried the girl back to the Institute - a distance of nearly three miles, after being unable to summon a taxi.

The next couple of days were unpleasant. The police came to take a statement, and left seemingly unconvinced that I was telling the truth. Then, about 3 days later I finally heard from Dolores. You can read here what happened.

I don't understand how these things pile up like this, I really don't.


J McC

7 comments:

Kim Ayres said...

I still think congratulations are in order, daddy-to-be

SheBah said...

Congrats! Jo McC and Dolores! Am thoroughly enjoying your zany story - it would make a terrif. sit-com!

Dr Joseph McCrumble said...

Kim - Thanks. It's been tough, and may get tougher still, but at least we have something positive to focus on.

Shebah - Thanks also. I wish I could see where the zany parts in the story lie. For me, the whole shebang is just one long nightmare. And it aint over yet, believe me.

SafeTinspector said...

Poor Dr J McC. Always in a pickle but never any brine.
So....there are congratulations to be had? Then here are more!

Gorilla Bananas said...

"I wasn't trying to molest her because I thought she was dead."

A novel defence, but I don't think a jury would acquit.

Dr Joseph McCrumble said...

SafeT - Thanks for the congrats

GB - Do you really think not....? Oh dear.

Mark Booth said...

Dear Joseph

I've been reading your blog for sometime now but didn't realise I could leave any comments!

First of all, thanks for the link to the Matangini Project. A few people have been to the site from here so the link obviously works.

Second, I have a proposal to make regarding your blog. Would you mind getting in touch so we can discuss it?

Great blog by the way. Amazing how fact often out-does fiction, eh?