It's All About Shlum

CHAPTER 1

She grasps the hilt of the bloody butter knife until her knuckles turned white, her head tilts slowly to the left. Chin up, jaw stout. Eye’s swimming but not with tears. She sits back on her haunches and traces her fingers slowly and carefully along the cool surface of the white-washed wall. Traces of blood are transferred from the tips of her tight, surgical gloves, she lets them sweep over again, closing her eyes as patterns form on the wall. Her breath is slow and controlled and she seems almost in a trance. Slowly she lifts her head and observes her creation, the wall is now covered with one large word. She smiles slowly. ‘1st degree premeditated murder with malice aforethought.’ She mutters to her self softly ‘Quite.’

‘There was a murder down the street you know. Number 56.’ Whispered Mrs Murdok in scandalised tones.
‘Oh how horrible, who lived there again?’ Replied Mrs Samson from between her parted fingers that she had clamped over her mouth.
‘Terry Turner! They found him this morning in his bedroom, his blood was all over the walls. How perfectly dreadful. I think I should have to move, this neighbourhood just isn’t safe like it used to be.’
‘I must say I comply completely. I do not wish to be in a place where I fear for my life daily. My weak heart simply couldn’t take the strain. Did you know Terry well? I can’t quite picture him, I do remember his name though.’
‘I didn’t know him all to well, but pleasantries were exchanged. He wasn’t the most polite man but it hardly seems a reason to off him.’
‘Very true.’ Nodded Mrs Samson solemnly.
‘Oh did you here? Berty and Sharon from down the street are getting a divorce. Word around the mail-box is that she cheated on him with John Marcus from number 32. Oh it’s an absolute scandal.’
‘Oh how dreadful.’ Whispered Mrs Samson but a simply delighted smile was spreading across her drawn face.

Tony Shlum strolled up to the green in front of his college. The wind kicking up the tales of his coat, the collar of which he had turned up against the cold. The piles of leaves that had been strategically placed by the gardener were now flying gracefully through the thick winter air and the gardener chased after them pointlessly, waving his hands in the air and cursing. It seemed a wonderful day for adventure, some days did just seem to have that quality. His eyes were downcast, for protection from the onslaught of bitter winds and so he didn’t notice the old, wizened man until he was practically on top of him. He brought himself to a halt and peered down at the curious little thing.

‘Shlum.’ he wheezed from between a sufficient gap in his front teeth. ‘Run, shlum.’
His eyes were wide, full with something other than fear. ‘Run far, far away.’
Tony‘s eyes widened as he heard the mirth in the man‘s voice and saw the glint of delicious satisfaction in his eye. The man then became to give a rasping chuckle which soon gave way to a hysterical laugh which was more ominous than one would expect laughter to be. The laughing stopped abruptly and he reached for Tony’s head, just behind his ear and brought him swiftly down to his level, the bristles of whiskers that had not been trimmed for a long while grazed his cheek as the man whispered in his ear.
‘It’s coming Shlum.’ He gasped between his fits of laughing. Then his voice turned sing song ‘It’s coming.’

He had been remembering that cold day a few weeks ago, the man had known his name. That was the part that worried him most, you got a lot of crazy homeless people around these parts but most of them don’t even know their own names and so this subject had left him deep in thought. Tony jerked his head up when his friend Charlie pinched him hard on his left arm.
‘Oi, what was that for?’ he gasped indignantly
‘You weren’t listening to me!’
‘No one ever listens to you Charlie.’
‘I know, but they really should. I have all the answers.’
‘Sure you do… what were you saying?’
‘Oh it’s not that important. Especially not to you apparently.’ Charlie huffed as she folded her arms.
‘Now Charlie, you know I mean well. My minds just somewhere else today I’m afraid.’

Tony had his head tilted to the side again and his eyebrows were drawn together quizzically.
Charlie had been babbling for a while but Tony had known her for long enough to understand that he had no need to listen, Charlie didn’t notice and she didn‘t care. He swirled around the last of the foam left in the measly and vulgar cup of coffee that had been poured for him by a rather old, rather greasy waitress.

Yellow tape was plastered all over number 56 and at least 5 cop cars were pulled up in front. Two doors of a navy Triumph Spitfire were slammed in unison as two remarkably well dressed people climbed out. The first was tall, dark and had a rather off centred nose. His upper lip seemed curled in a perpetual smirk and he surveyed the scene in front of him. He had a classically handsome look about him and his dark eyebrows were currently pulled together over his gold flecked eyes which darted from one thing to another, taking in every detail.

The second was average height and fairly stocky. His eyes were a sparkling blue and shone out magnificently from his face. He pulled out a gold plated pocket watch and shook his head at the time and waggled his finger.
‘The day has slipped away from us again Bill, quite like that young lady at the bar last night. How she got away when I simply turned my head to order a drink is still beyond me. She must be pretty quick on her toes! Perhaps she was a volleyball player, I’ve seen a number of the women’s games and I must say they are pretty speedy.’

The two men approached the house, Bill with large strides that were only to be expected from the length of his legs and the other man shuffling along to keep up. They were greeted by a little woman, although for some reason it seemed more fitting to call her a girl. She had rather dull auburn hair that was bunched up around her pale, round face. Her eyes were a mahogany brown and had extremely dark and long lashes. She was like a miniature porcelain doll, but one that had been left out in the rain .

‘Two well dressed to be policemen… you must be the consultants they told me about. I should think that your just far to good looking to be anticipated at crime scenes though and too remarkably rich to care. You should be off to tea with other young men in breeches saying things like ’Top draw old chap’ Yes I think that seems in order. Not that I‘d know any of that stuff anyway, I‘m more blood and bones.’ She said with a grin.

Bill raised an eyebrow at her and she blushed more heavily than was respectable.
‘I don’t doubt it.’

The other man grinned nervously it was clear that he was somewhat taken with the little porcelain girl. ‘Ehm, Hello! I’m Mathew… Mathew Sherman.’
‘Come now Sherbet. We have work do to.’ Bill said, the smirk still firmly in place.
‘Oh yes, coming! Work, murder, bodies, blood, death. Righto, great stuff. Yes yes.’ Mathew said as he shuffled nervously away. He tripped on a small rock and stumbled into Bills arms. Bill straightened him up and his smirk widened and the two men made their way into the house.

‘Well Hello! You must be Bill Price oh and you must be Mathew Sherman! Named after the politician I presume? I can‘t possibly fathom why though. I’m Simon Bishop, lead detective and investigator of the case.’
‘Of course you are.’ Said Bill with a rather intense air of superiority. ‘How do you do?’
Simon Bishop seemed more than a little taken aback by Bill but when he replied his voice was steady and without emotion, ‘As well as I can be with another murder in these parts. Most unfortunate. Property values have been dropping like hot dogs from a fat man.’
Bill glanced up at the writing at the wall.
‘Well this certainly doesn’t seem like a spur of the moment kind of crime.’
The word CUNT had been drawn in large capital letters over the victims wall. The word was preceded by a smiley face and a (obviously) blood red apple.

‘Now my men have been trying to figure out what was meant by the apple… Some sort of code? Message? Clue?’ Simon Bishop said as he craned his neck around to try and look Bill in the face. He almost toppled over.
‘Revenge is sweet…’ He muttered softly.
‘Hmm? Did you say something?’

Bill nodded dejectedly as his gaze had slid to the small bed in the corner. Poking out from beneath the blood stained duvet was a flash of indigo.

‘I prefer to work alone, do you mind waiting outside for a few minutes?’ Bill asked as politely as was in his nature.
Simon Bishop didn’t looked a mixture of curios and affronted but none the less he herded his men out of the room and followed suit soon after.

‘You too Sherbet.’
‘What? But we work toge--’
‘Now, Sherbet.’
Matthew stormed off through the door in a huff.

Bill stooped down beside the small cot in the corner and picked up the glimmer of indigo. It was a hair pin, a very small one and easily mis-able but there none-the-less. He scrutinized it thoroughly under his expert eye before slipping it in his pocket.
‘Tut tut.’ he muttered under his breath ‘Carless.‘ and with that he walked swiftly out the door, his coat flying behind him to find Matthew in full-flirt with the little porcelyn girl. He managed to catch a line of the conversation.
‘Right, Friday, great, fun, date, you, me, fantastic, yes yes!’ Matthew was saying as he fidgeted nervously with a handkerchief. Bill approached them pointedly.
‘Come on Casa-no-brains, we’ve got work to do.’
‘Ah yes, work, busy, you, me, now, investigate, yes yes!’

‘Why did you have to do that?’ Whined Matthew as Bill shoved him into the passenger seat of the black Mercedes. ‘Cause.’ Said Bill manner-of-factly as he ducked in on the other side ‘Your dates our murderer.’

‘Yes, I’m sure she is but that’s still no reason to-- Wait what? What did you say?’ Matthew stumbled over the words.
‘Your date? That young woman over there? You are with me so far, know who I’m talking about?’ Bill said as if he was explaining a very simple concept to a challenged child.
‘Yes.’ Said Matthew guardedly.
‘She, murdered the man who lives here. Quite brutally to be frank. It’s was done quite well actually, such a shame it had to be ruined by such a novice mistake.’
‘But… But…Does this mean I have to cancel our date? Cause I’ve been so looking forward to it.’
‘Oh quite the contrary, I would quite like to see how this plays out and seeing as you’ve already had a whole 15 minutes of heart wrenching anticipation it would seems just plain cruel to take it away.’

Mathew Sherman tugged awkwardly at the tie that hung around his slightly pink neck that had recently been scrubbed within an inch of raw.
‘I hate ties.’ he muttered as he did up a silver cufflink.
‘I know.’ Replied Bill, looking far to pleased.
Mathew muttered something under his breath that sounded vaguely rude but one could never be quite sure. Bill turned him round and looked him up and down.
‘Stunning Sherbet.’ He said with a smile and when Mathew turned to leave he gave him a quick pat on the backside. ’Now you go get that homicidal maniac. Make me proud.’

The night had crept up on them swiftly when Charlie and Tony finally rose from their seats it must have been at least 8. It had been an extremely uneventful afternoon but as was every afternoon in this area. The most exciting thing that could possibly cross your mind would be whether or not you should eat again after you brushed your teeth. Tony ran his hands through his (as Charlie so delicately put it) sun kissed hair. He was still clearly elsewhere and so Charlie had to give him a little push to get him through the door, sadly not quick enough to miss the not so conspicuous wink that the greasy waitress tossed his way. Tony shivered, and not because of the bitter wind.

‘I’ll never get that image out of my head.’ He muttered as he pulled up his coat collar against the wind.
‘Ah your over reacting mate. She could be okay if you just put her in the shower. Dunt ya think?’
‘I’m not sure that a shower could rinse away all the STDs though, everyone knows that she’s been round the block a couple times.’
‘Yes… But It’s a rather small block.’ Charlie noted as she peered round the corner.

When he got home he slid his key into the lock and watched as the door slowly creaked open of it’s own accord. His eyes smarted from the sharp winds that had abused him on his walk home and drew his hand across his forehead. He got to his room and dropped the keys by his immaculate bad which he then collapsed, with very little dignity, onto.

Now that you know a little about the people that are to be the main subject of this tale I think it’s high time that I introduce myself. Well, not by any formal meaning of the sentiment… I simply mean I will now allow you to acknowledge my existence. It does help so to be able to pop in during the recantation of these events, so that I may add an opinion or a comment. Now I need to get one thing straight before I truly begin… Life is extremely simple. Which we often refuse to recognize. People insist on making things complicated for their own entertainment and so that they can pretend to be the tragic hero of their own mislead stupidity. So bare in mind, this story may be told from a slightly biased point of view but I must tell you that I do not condone it as we are all human after all… Or most of us that is.

Dinner over champagne and ties. Wine and expensive dresses. Muttered comments and awkward silences. Discreet innuendos or whispers of ‘Lets go back to mine and listen to some Dido.’ The sweating, the waiting, the nerve wrecking questions, all for what? Let us discretely call it… the disappearing cane trick. And so we are to find the young, Mathew Sherman taking part in one such of these primitive dances.

He wiped his hand across his forehead, brushing away beads of sweat that threatened to roll down his reddened face, the tie had already been loosened several times and he was shifting non to subtly in his seat. Little porcelain lips twitched upward slightly as she saw his evident awkward behaviour. Her eyes twinkled merrily in a way that didn’t seem to befit a woman who had cold bloodedly murdered a man just a few days before. Both Bill and Mathew had been completely nonplussed as to the motive, Bill hadn’t even told Mathew why he ‘knew’ it was her, so Mathew still had a slight hope for the white picked face, with a wife who didn’t murder people.

He had been holding his breath for a few moments and on the realisation of this he let out quite a violent burst of air. One dark eyebrow arched suggestively.
‘Now Mathew, no need to break a sweat.’ She practically purred into his ear. Her hand slid up and done his arm softly and his hairs stood on edge. She most certainly and cleaned up nicely for the date, dark curls now surrounded her heart shaped face and her lips were deathly red. Deathly… The word stuck in Mathews mind like a knife to the head and he attempted to steady his breathing. She was looking at him in a way that made him feel significantly uncomfortable, he searched for the right words and eventually managed to splutter out,

‘Wine! More wine over here.’
The waiter sauntered over and refilled their glasses with a tip of his skilled hands.
‘So this is fun.’ Said little porcelain smirking.
‘Fun, yes, you, me, wine, date, table, candles, food, fire, empty, alone, afraid.’ The last word was choked up and barely audible and Mathew wasn’t sure if she had caught it but her smirk definitely widened.
‘Yes yes.’ He muttered almost spitefully. She was taking far to much pleasure out of his horror he mused.

Bill was sitting outside in his navy spitfire, although I’m not quite sure that sitting is the right word, it was more like an awkward sort of lying down position that didn’t do much for the posture, that sort you get in when you’re on a long journey and any possible form of comfort seems to be extremely elusive. His eyes were beginning to droop as he waiting for Mathew, he wasn’t even quiet sure why he had thought of this plan… He should have just got the girl arrested right away, but there was some significantly interesting about her that he couldn’t quite let go and he knew he had to find out more before turning her over to that dreadfully ignorant Bishop man. He was worried about Mathew although he wouldn’t admit it, not that she’d hurt him, although he may not look it Bill knew that Mathew could more than hold his own in a fight, especially against a rather small woman. He was worried that Mathew would either let something slip or be slipped and he didn’t know how well he’d handle either. Either way he wouldn’t get a good looking girlfriend that he’d so been looking forward to having.

Bill raised his feet up on the dashboard as he massaged his throbbing temples. He was struggling to stay conscious, it’s never a good idea to fall asleep alone in a car, when you’re involved (in any way) in a murder case. To many people ambling around with trigger happy hands and dull minds.

Mathew had, had several more glasses of wine and was feeling vaguely relaxed and vaguely… well vaguely everything really. A daft grin swept his handsome features as he circled his wine glass with his finger allowing it to produce a soft drone. Little porcelain had stopped smirking and starting smiling properly and this pleased Mathew greatly.
‘Still got it.’ He thought to himself as he straightened his jacket self-importantly.
The conversation had begun to flow easily and soon both were smiling and laughing until it seemed impossible to continue yet at the same time to stop. Glass after glass of wine was consumed and merrier and merrier they became.

When it came time to leave, Mathew was having a rather heating argument… with himself.
‘You should tell her to slip out the back, Bill’s gonna be waiting. You know she can’t have done it, she’s to nice and he’ll have her in cuffs in a minute. Not that I haven’t myself imagined cuffing her in a similar way but that would be in a very different situation.’ His thoughts continued in that pattern for a few minutes until he began to blush such a red that you could barely tell where his face ended and the crimson napkin began. So he continued on the original subject that he had broached with himself. ’You can’t do that, Bill will positively murder you himself. And plus, he hasn’t been wrong before and if she is really a murderer I can’t just let her escape. It’s not morally right.’ He sighed deeply to himself and little porcelain looked up from beneath dark lashes and smiled drowsily.

He knew, technically what he should do. Mathew Sherman would always see in black and white, but he thought in shades of grey.

Bill had now sunk into blissful slumber, his neck crooked awkwardly over the back of the seat and his legs crooked over the driving wheel. He really was a tall man. When the passenger door was thrown open he jumped, quick, fast and high. Now this caused a sort of chain reaction, he slipped off the seat and down next to the pedals, his torso and thighs were squashed awkwardly together and one foot was jammed right on the horn of the car. The sudden loud noise startled Matthew and in his drunken stupor he knocked his head on the frame of the door as he attempted to climb into the car and ‘save’ Bill.

Several minutes and multiple issues later they both sat painting in their respective chairs. Mathew was giggling ratter like a besotted school girl and Bill was frowning pointedly.
‘What’s so funny?’ Bill asked with a hint of a threat.
‘Oh nothing nothing. Certainly not the fact that your hair’s sticking up, when it never does… and that your clothes are ruffled, like they never are… or that there’s a strange black smudge on your face.’ Mathew said as his giggles continued. ‘Your far to meticulous my friend.’

Bill scowled even darker as he tried to pat down his hair and straighten his clothes.
‘Where is she?’ He asked.
‘Who?’ Replied Bill, a stupid grin plastered across his face.
‘Who? Y’know, the murderer you just took on a date?’
‘Oh. That one.’ Mathew’s face fell as he thought of the consequences of his next words. ‘She’s sort of… gone.’
‘Gone? Gone where.’
‘Well… I don’t really know. She’s gone.’
There was a stretch of silence, ended by an almost impossibly fast stream of words from a very nervous looking Matthew.
‘I mean I really don’t think she could have murdered anyone she’s such a nice girl, really she is, wonderful smile too. I just don’t want to be to rash and throw her straight into jail, we really should be sure shouldn’t we?’
Bill looked at him straight in the eye, his gaze steady and calm.
‘What’s her name?’ Asked Bill softly.
‘What?’
‘If I am to find her, which I assure you I am. It may help to actually know her name, I never asked.’
Mathew knew there was no way to get out of this one and if he didn’t want his skin to be Bill’s new fashionable coat he better give him what he wanted.
‘Francesca Honey… Her names Francesca Honey.’