Pieces of Me Read online

On the fifth phone call and the sixth ring a voice finally answered the telephone ‘Hello’

  ‘Jane is that you, its Sylvia here.’ There was a silence at the other end of the line. She sensed Jane wasn’t sure whether to hang up.

  ‘Jane this is serious, what have you done……’

  There have been three murders so far and all the donations have come from Nick. What are you doing? Have you hired someone? When we discussed the situation of Nick’s donations I didn’t mean for you to go and do something about it and use the information to try and redeem the situation in some twisted way.

  ‘Its okay, everything is clear now. After Nick’s death when I was in the midst of my nervous break down, you helped me and you showed me that God was there to help. Converting to a Jehovah’s Witness was the best thing I could have done. My life now has purpose, I know what needs to be done, I have taken charge of things and am sorting this out. The Lords word has been translated as meaning that organ donation is wrong, as you told me as well and I cannot think of my Nicholas up there with our Lord, incomplete, unable to rest until he is whole again. Doesn’t worry Sylvia, my work is nearly complete. I have to go now, I need to complete what I started….for Nick’s sake’

  Jane hung up, the disengaged dial tone filled Sylvia’s ear. ‘Jane, Jane!’ exclaimed Sylvia, ‘oh God what have I done, this is all, my fault, I have to get out of here.’ So Sylvia got up switched her computer off and picked up her bag, put on her coat and marched out of the building proclaiming she felt ill and needed to go home. She got in the car and began to cry, she threw her bag on the floor and out fell a brown cardboard file with a small sticker which simply said ‘Donation 46576554 James Benjamin Langan – Corneas’. Sylvia lit a cigarette, opened the window and sped out of the car park. She was not sure what she was going to do or where she was going to go but she knew she was in a lot of trouble and needed an escape plan……

  Jane pressed the red button and ended the call to Sylvia. It was 12:37…lunchtime thought Jane. It was a lovely sunny day outside, there were a few clouds in the sky and a light breeze, Jane noted as she held back the curtain and leant out of the window of her bed & breakfast room on the second floor, on Olney high street. Lunch in The Swan, decided Jane as she picked up her bag and cream summer jacket and headed out into the glorious sunshine.

  She sauntered up the high street, only pausing to recover her sunglasses from her bag. She felt at one with herself. The ‘departures’ of her other projects had been stressful and sometimes she had called into question what she was doing. However with each passing day, as the persons concerned were dealt with and the body parts returned to their rightful place she knew what she was doing was right. She could almost picture her Nick, whole again, free again, once complete she wasn’t sure what she was going to do. Her actions did sometimes weigh heavy on her shoulders, but the ends justified the means as the saying goes. There were difficult decisions ahead but she knew in her heart what she truly wanted.

  Jane walked into The Swan public house in Olney and delayed slightly as she opened the door. The low ceilings and small windows kept out most of the light of the day and it took a while for her eyes to adjust, once she had removed her sunglasses. There were some people eating already and a trio of fat, middle aged men in rugby shirts boisterously discussing what seemed like a game they had just played, judging by their still wet hair, soapy smell and matching sports bags at their feet.

  She walked over to the bar where the landlady was politely waiting for her.

  ‘Yes dear’ said the barmaid

  ‘Hello, what a lovely day it is outside. Could I please have a gin & tonic?’

  ‘Certainly, madam, ice and slice of lemon’

  ‘Of course’

  ‘Go and sit down dear, I’ll bring it over to you, will you be having lunch today?’

  Jane nodded and walked over to the small table in the corner. Over lunch she went over the key facts again.

  She had found David Holmes a couple of days earlier. He lived on Wagstaff Way in some new looking flats overlooking Emberton Lake. They had been built on the old tannery and the views were excellent. She had followed Mr Holmes now off and on for the best part of three months. He lived alone; he worked at the local garage and car dealership called ‘Souls’ as a mechanic. He drank every Monday, Thursday, Friday and Saturday in The Castle pub which was at the opposite end of the high street from The Swan. She had been in there, but only once as quite frankly the place was a mess. It had a pool table which had various drink stains on it, a jukebox which seemed to play either heavy metal or some ridiculous song filled with nonsense, something about someone going to a place called Amarillo or something. It seemed to qualify to drink there you either had to be, stupid ugly or an alcoholic and judging by a few of them they qualified under all three categories with flying colours. Still the locals liked it and when she went in there the place had been in full swing with pints over flowing and shots of something called Goldshlager being downed with relish and abandon as quickly as possible. The grimace on the imbibers faces testimony to the harsh after taste and alcoholic content.

  She had talked to David one night in the Castle. It was a particularly boisterous Friday night. The Rugby team were having their annual, or was that maybe weekly ‘piss up’. There were about twenty five massive blokes in white shirts and ties, the blazers long since discarded in the corner in a volcano-esque structure of heavy blue cotton and black shiny inner lining. The glass collector was struggling to keep up with them, although in all fairness even the glass collector was absolutely smashed. She had watched him wandering around picking up the empties. He was an old chap, probably early sixties and he walked with a slight limp. The tattoos on his arms gave him away as an ex navy man but Jane doubted very much whether he had managed to scale the ranks. Scaling the ladders on the ship was probably complicated enough for this one. His false teeth shined brilliantly, an oasis of cleanliness in a sea of old age, body odour and drink. Everybody seemed to know him, ‘Ello Charlie you old fucker’, ‘alright granddad, here you go mate’, ‘Cheers you old fart’ were among the matey jibes which were bellowed his way as they handed over the empties. He wasn’t shy in drinking the dregs either. In-fact between that and various people handing him halves of beer, cider and assorted shots old Charlie was probably the happiest man in Olney.

  David had mistakenly bumped into Jane about eight thirty that Friday night. Jane was sober, with a small glass of white wine in front of her, sitting at the bar. Various people said hello as they walked past however, despite the entrance to the main bar being several feet wide David Holmes struggled to make it all the way through without brushing against both walls. He was the proverbial piece of cotton being steered through the eye of a needle. And judging by the angles the unseen person steering the cotton thread called David Holmes was a blind man with Parkinson’s, on roller skates, during an earthquake measuring about three hundred on the Richter scale.

  ‘Sorry darlin’ drawled David as he fell into Jane.

  Her white wine was now dripping over the bar into the sink which was hidden under the bar. The glass quietly rolled, stopped and then toppled into the sink, smashing and causing the pub to pause for a split second and a small cheer going up as they realised that Mr David Holmes had yet again broken a glass. The barmaid came over shaking her head in admonishment before smiling slightly, looking up to the heavens for forgiveness and replacing Jane’s wine in a single motion.

  David composed himself and began speaking to Jane. It wasn’t long before they were in conversation. David was one of these drunks who would tell you their life story within five minutes of meeting you. He was popular enough and seemed to know everybody. David had lived in Olney all his life, he knew everyone, had been to school with the younger ones, therefore knew the parents and then of course knew the kids of the school friends. He had a simple life. The local school never held much hope for him but he always tried to work doing various jobs along the way. Finall
y he had got himself on a mechanics course after his worried mother was concerned her son would still be sleeping in his single bed and still be living with her until he was an old man. He found that he was more practical and found being a mechanic something he actually enjoyed. He had worked at Souls garage now for about five years and had got himself a nice little niche in life. The flat near Emberton lake was very small but more than met his needs. His money just about lasted but he did have a loan which he was paying off and the credit card bills were mounting up again. He had got pissed off with Olney a few years back and thought fuck it, let’s get out of here for a bit. So he went to Ibiza for the summer. Imbibing all that the island had to offer he came back to Olney at the end of September with an abused liver, a monstrous headache but an excellent tan and lots of very good stories which he shared with everybody on his triumphant return to Olney. However getting back on his feet again had proved elusive so the credit card bills had piled up. Finally sorting himself out he turned the bills into a loan so he was clear however he was now starting to spend again, going into intimate detail about the new fishing gear he had bought, the new mountain bike he just couldn’t resist and probably more disappointingly the amount of cash he had ‘invested’ behind the bar of the Castle.

  And so the key pastime she had discovered apart from drinking was fishing. He used to go night fishing, every weekend on a Sunday night. He was off on Mondays as he always worked all day Saturday; usually it seemed with a hangover. Today was Friday, only two more days and she could strike.

  Chapter 14 – and that included David Holmes