2199 words

ECHOES IN THE NIGHT

By Norman Oliver

Boom! Boom! the sounds, - like distant cannon fire, disturbed the silence of the night, echoing around the courtyard of the apartment block. As Tony was drawing the curtains, he paused momentarily, to look out of the window, a little puzzled as to what could have caused the sounds. He quickly changed his mind. He was preoccupied with what was about to happen in the room behind him.

Suddenly! again, the sounds came. Boom! Boom! Boom! reverberating from wall to wall around the courtyard. The sounds were obviously coming from somewhere close at hand. Despite the urgency to proceed with his purpose for being in the room, his curiosity forced him to spare a moment or two to see what was causing the sounds.

From his position on the third floor he could see above the surrounding buildings. It was a clear moonlight night, but the streets that were within his limited view were empty. No car headlights, no people walking, then suddenly, he noticed a flash of light coming from the back of a small building in the next street. If he wasn't mistaken it was a jewellers premises.

A torch had been switched on and it was being directed at a point on the back door of the building.

There was enough moonlight to see the shape of two shadowy figures. As he watched, the sounds came again and he immediately saw what was happening.

The men were breaking down the door of the premises. They were using a heavy hammer but the door must have been steel reinforced to make the dull booming sound. A normal wooden door would have been destroyed by this time. Again and again the pounding against the door went on, sending the sounds echoing through the night. Eventually, the booming sounds were followed by the sound of splintering timber as the door frame disintegrated and the door fell inwards.

As the men made their way through the battered door into the building, he could see the shining badges of uniforms. Then he noticed the shape of a car which was parked in the yard. The moonlight was reflecting off the Son et Lumiere equipment mounted on the top of the vehicle.

No doubt about it, the police were breaking into the building. It was no wonder that they could never catch the criminals, he told himself.

This was nothing to do with him, the business at hand was urgently pressing and he had already wasted a few precious seconds.

As he finished drawing the curtains, the moonlight flashed on a ring on the dressing table in front of him. With one deft, virtually invisible, sleight of hand movement, which would have out-Copperfield'ed, the master of illusion himself, the ring was securely nestled in his trousers pocket.

As he turned away from the window, he heard an alarm bell loudly clanging. He again peeped out of the window and saw the two men running out of the building and getting into the car which quickly left the scene without switching on the driving lights. He decided that the police must have known that there was no need for an alarm on the reinforced back door of the premises, but they had triggered an alarm that they were not aware of, shortly after they had entered the building.

He followed the cars progress along the road until it turned the corner and made it's way around the block. It disappeared from view for a moment or two. then reappeared with its siren wailing and roof lights flashing. To anyone who had not seen the full performance, they appeared to be responding to the alarm bell ringing from the building.

But that had taken place last night. The booming of the knocking on the door of his apartment had brought back the memory of last night again, but now he had to answer the urgent knocking.


As Tony started to open the door, he realized that his wife had come from the kitchen to answer the knocking and was already standing behind him so that they both faced the visitors as he opened the door.

"Can you people please tell us where were you last night?" the question had been directed to both Tony and Molly Wilson, by the taller of the two police officers who were standing at the door. The officer had explained that the police were calling on everyone in the area, making enquiries, following a break-in at a local jewellers premises. He had mentioned that the ever vigilant police had arrived at the scene immediately after the alarm rang so they had foiled the attempted robbery and the culprits had been unsuccessful.

"Did either of you hear or see anything suspicious?" he continued. As usual, Molly did the talking, explaining that she had stayed at her sister's home last night, while Tony had watched TV all evening, then had gone to bed. The policeman entered the replies in his notebook and left the house.

"Good night officers!" Tony smiled and raised his hand in a wave to the departing policeman as he         closed his front door and turned the key in the lock. Pigs! He muttered under his breath. You and I know where you were last night, don't we? He paused for a moment, smiling as he thought about last night. But that will stay our little secret won't it.

He started following Molly, who was hurriedly walking down the long hall towards the kitchen, but paused a little while to gather his thoughts. What the hell has upset her tonight? he asked himself, as he listened to his wife noisily clattering the dishes, while clearing away after the evening meal.

She had been silent ever since he came home from work. He had asked her what was wrong. "Nothing!" She had snapped back at him, like the jaws of an alligator snapping at him. The tone clearly confirmed that something serious was wrong. When she was in one of these moods, he had long ago found that it was prudent to put some distance between them.

Waiting until there was a pause in the kitchen din, he called out to her, "I've got some paper-work to finish for work tomorrow." Without waiting for a response, he quickly slipped into his study and closed the door, listening to the sounds from the kitchen.

It was getting worse. Cupboard doors were being opened and slammed shut like the crack of rifle shots. The cutlery drawer was jerked open then slammed shut again, crashing the contents together like the clash of a dozen cymbals. Now she was venting her anger against the pots and pans and crockery in the sink again, with an even greater fury than before.

My God! he thought, it's like the '1812 Overture' in there.

Tony thought about his wife for a moment. Her moods were beginning to frighten him. There was no nice way of saying it. Molly was a foul tempered woman. Truly, hell hath no fury like Molly in a rage.

There had only been one occasion when he had made the mistake of challenging her in an argument, fuelling her temper until argument had become toe to toe fight, there had been no contest.

They had been in the middle of one of their daily violent rows, when in a previously unheard of moment of weakness, almost admission that she had been the cause of the argument, she mentioned, "It must be my PMT."

He had promptly, sarcastically remarked, "You must get 30 days of PMT every month."

Mistake! Mistake! BIG BIG MISTAKE.

As soon as he uttered the words, he realized he had gone too far. For the first time ever, she had half admitted the argument had been her fault and not due entirely to his shortcomings and his failures in life. Why couldn't he have quit while he was ahead? No. His smart arsed big mouth had got him into even more trouble than he was already.

She had leapt on him, screaming, kicking, punching, scratching, biting; with all the ferocity of a pack of vicious Rottweilers. She had only stopped to drag him downstairs and bundle him into the back of the station wagon. She had taken him to the hospital, explaining to the admissions nurse, that he had fallen downstairs.

The nurse had looked at the extent of his injuries and in obvious disbelief at the explanation, asked Molly, "How many times?"

The frightening glare on Molly's face as her lips turned back into a snarl, had been enough to terrify the nurse into realizing that she might suffer the same fate if she didn't get on with her job very quickly.

"Just stop the bleeding and patch him up. I can't wait all night," had been Molly's snarling reply

He had vowed never again to get in a fight with her. Flight was infinitely better than fight. Discretion better than valour.

Tony's thoughts returned to the previous evening again. He smiled as he reconstructed the sequence of events after returning from work and finding the note from Molly on the table.

'Gone to help my sister. She's fallen and hurt her leg. I'll stay overnight.

No time to prepare your dinner. Buy some take-away.'

The knocking on the door by Vera, the widow who had moved into the apartment across the hall, explaining that the electricity in her kitchen had failed, asking him what she could do. He had gone straight to her kitchen, examining the appliances that were switched on and soon found that a faulty plug had caused the problem. He had repaired it and had reset the circuit breaker. She had been very grateful and when she found that Molly had been called away, and he had not yet had his evening meal, she offered to share her meal with him.

A few glasses of wine while waiting for the meal to cook. A delicious meal. A few more glasses of wine, some romantic head on shoulder dance music after she had thrown on something a little more comfortable. No doubt about it he thought again, that negligee showed all her best points — and curves.

Of course, Tony had considered his marital status — for a brief moment. But this was no dilemma. Tony was a rat, utterly devoid of any scruples. He had lied, cheated and stolen his way through life at every opportunity. In matters of morality, Tony was a sexual delinquent. 'Tony's Law' automatically applies, 'Debauchery is better than Fidelity.' He couldn't keep his hands off her.

It was when they had gone to her bedroom, and he was at the window drawing the curtains, that he had heard the booming sound of the door being broken down, echoing through the night.

For a fleeting moment, he had considered telephoning someone to report the break-in, anonymously of course, but who could he call? Anyway, right then; there was something far more urgent to attend to. He had quickly closed the curtains and....Tony closed his eyes, mentally reliving last night. He could see Voluptuous Vera again, standing in front of him, slowly disrobing, he started to savour again the delights of his fornication....

Suddenly; a terrifying CRASH! and the sound of splintering wood.

His resurrected ecstasy was shattered as with one mighty blow, the door to his study was kicked open.

He spun around to face the door.

In the doorway, debris from the splintered door around her feet, stood Mad Molly - The Merciless Mutilator, her face red with rage, wide, crazed eyes, threatening to pop out of her head, fists clenched, standing there, like a maddened bull in a bull ring, snorting, pawing the ground.

Oh no! he thought, she must have somehow found out where he was last night. She was blocking the doorway, there could be no escape from her merciless fury. As she started moving towards him, he retreated, trying to maintain the distance between them, his knees, then his whole body was trembling.

She screamed at him. "I phoned here every hour last night, from seven o clock to ten and didn't get an answer. Before the police came I was going to ask you where you were, but now I know, don't I? As soon as my back was turned you were up to your old house-breaking tricks again weren't you?" she demanded.

By this time, Tony was crouched down, cowering in the corner of the room, putting his hands up in front of his face, to protect himself from the impending onslaught. "No! No!" He stammered, he started to protest his innocence — almost started to explain his alibi, but immediately realized the danger of risking exposure of his illicit liaison.

Then — with a brilliant flash of self-preservation inspiration, which could only have been created by a mind as devious as Tony's, he quickly took the ring from Vera's dressing table out of his pocket and wheedled, "I only did it to get this ring for you as a token of my undying love and faithfulness to you."

N


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Copyright Σ Norman Oliver 1998

Updated September 5th 1998