Saturday 

“I’m sure if Billy could see me he’d murder me,” suggested Marjorie Hart in reference to her husband.  

“Why don’t you leave him?” suggested Beverley, Marjorie’s sister”, your marriage was over long before he lost his sight in that car accident.” 

Marjorie sighed, “Billy and I are still Business partners, even if he doesn’t do any work. “ Marjorie shook her head. “I can’t leave him without stirring up a hornet’s nest.” 

“Suit yourself,” replied Beverley indignantly, “if he does kill you, don’t haunt me to complain.” Beverley broke into a giggle; “you’d frighten the life out of my poor Derek”. 

Marjorie smiled, “I’m ready to go shopping, are you?” Marjorie shuffled her feet, and watched as Beverley applied lipstick, “I’m thinking of buying something for me and the children.” 

“Like what?”  

 “I’m still thinking about It.” she shuffled her feet again, “By the way, are we still going to the reception uptown this Thursday? “ Because Julie is coming in to cover the phones” 

“We leave at 8:15 a.m. as arranged,” replied Beverley,” and will be back by 5 p.m. at the latest.” Beverley closed her handbag. “Right let’s go spend some money.” 

Billy Hart entered the dining room from the door that led down to his wife’s office. It was the seventh opportunity he had taken when no one was around to feel the layout of the staff tearoom. He knew the layout of the back office and location of Marjorie’s desk where she sat catching up on all the admin when the staff were away.   

He walked through to the lounge grinning; his plan was coming together. He sat in his favourite armchair, and rested his head against the leather upholstery and thought: It’s so peaceful, no Marjorie, no children, and no noise. In the background, he heard the grandfather clock chime 5 p.m. She’ll be back soon, he thought, as once again he grinned. Next Thursday Marjorie, he thought, you’re going to die at the hands of a mysterious intruder, while you work, in the back of your office, and I’m away at Braille classes. 

He had a plan, the perfect plan for Marjorie’s untimely demise. However, what would he use to kill her? He had also conquered his greatest fear, which was also his greatest alibi: the steps that led from the house, down into the staff tearoom of Marjorie’s practice. It was a well-known fact, that he hated the steps; twice he had slipped and badly injured himself. He would rather walk around the house to get Marjorie from the office, instead of calling to her from the top of the steps. 

 “Those steps should be replaced with proper stairs,” he would shout, “I might kill myself one of these days.” Despite his shouting, he continually thought, about killing himself. A number of thoughts ran through his mind about Marjorie. A mental image of Marjorie dancing on his coffin, and the wild abandoned parties she would have on the insurance money.  

Then he had it, the method of murder: grab her from behind and break her neck, something he had learnt in the Royal Marines. Revenge – for all the years of misery. When she’s dead, I’ll wreck the office and house; jemmy open the back door to make it appear as an intruder. 

“Yes,” he murmured, “Thursday is the day, and I can’t wait.” 

“What about Thursday?”  

Billy’s heart almost stopped, “Where did you come from? I’ve told you not to sneak up on me like that.” 

“I’ve just come in, and I’ve popped through here to see if you want anything?” 

“Since when do you cater for my needs,” he snarled. 

“Just asking Billy, that’s all,” replied Marjorie walking back through to the kitchen. 

He mouthed the word bitch. Why couldn’t she be as attentive, as helpful, and as pleasant as she was when he first left the hospital after the accident? It was only a matter of weeks before she was back to her uncooperative manner. She would shout at him. In his head, he had a vision of her leaning over him shouting, “Get it yourself, you know where it is. We’ve lived in this house for eight years Billy, you know your way around.” 

“He would retaliate with the obvious, “I’m blind you bitch I can’t see a thing.” 

He despised her suggestions, which only prompted the reply, “You have to learn Billy because I can’t always be here to help you because I have to run the business. I have to work to keep this family to . .”   

There the conversation would end. She never did say anything damming about his blindness, although he was certain the intent was there. Still incensed he walked through to the kitchen where he could hear Marjorie washing dishes. 

“You don’t give a damn about me do you,” he snapped grabbing the draining board.  

Marjorie brushed vigorously past him knowing what he would do. She heard a clatter as he fell to the floor. As she turned he yelled obscenities. “I’m sure you’re trying to kill me,” he snarled. He floundered on the floor for a few seconds, until a pair of arms hoisted him to his feet.  

“That’s more like it, knock me down, then you pick me up.” 

“I didn’t see her knock you down Billy,” came the voice of Beverley’s husband Derek, “you fell to the floor of your own accord.” 

Billy shook Derek’s arms away, “I suggest, whatever you are doing here, you do it quickly and get out” 

Billy wanted to scream, lash out at them both, but instead, he turned quietly away and disappeared up the stairs to his bedroom. 

“Be careful Marjorie,” suggested Derek, as soon as Billy was out of earshot, “if he hits you, it will hurt.” 

Sitting on the floor with an excited Rose and Sam, Marjorie struggled to open the box that contained the family treat she had bought that day. Billy less than four feet away sat in his armchair listening to the excited chatter. He wanted to move, go to the peace and quiet of his room, but he was curious, he wanted to know what Marjorie had bought. 

“Why don’t you just tell us what it is and get it over and done with,” called Billy impatiently, “it’s only some silly high street overpriced gimmick I expect.” 

Marjorie stood quietly and moved closer to Billy. She lowered her voice as she spoke, “Do you have to try and spoil everything for everyone Billy, you’re selfish and mean.” Billy raised his head and imagined his wife’s face. “Am I a child,” he hissed, trying to match her level of tone, “you don’t even talk to the children like that.” 

From behind Marjorie Rosie asked her dad “Why are you so meaning to mommy daddy, you never used to be?” 

 “You bitch.” he snarled, “You’re even turning the children against me now.” 

Rosie broke into tears and screamed back at her father, “Don’t call mommy that daddy, she’s not one of those.” Both Rosie and Sam ran from the lounge. 

Marjorie’s temper broke, and without thinking, she slapped Billy’s face with a firm open palm. Not stopping to think about it, she turned, picked up the box, and ran crying all the way to her bedroom. In the lounge, Billy waited until she had gone before mumbling, “On Thursday you bitch, you die.” 

Wednesday 

“How’s your family treat shaping up?” asked Beverley as she sauntered into Marjorie’s office. 

Marjorie shook her head. “Haven’t tried it yet – but Julie said she’ll try it out – but for now – it’s hidden in the staff tea room.” 

“Children or Billy?” 

“Both” she paused and scribbled a note, “right now, Billy is looking for it, and the kids might break it.” Marjorie smiled at her sister, “and as we know, this is the last place Billy will search.” 

“I presume he doesn’t know what it is?” 

Marjorie shook her head. “He threw the usual tantrum, I slapped him, and we’ve never spoken since.” 

“You slapped him, did he try to hit back?” screeched Beverley. 

“No. He continued to sit, and I left the room crying.” Marjorie looked at her sister, “let’s drop the subject. Please.” 

A telephone at Marjorie’s right elbow rang. “I’ll see you tomorrow eight-fifteen sharp,” said Marjorie, Beverley didn’t have time to answer before Marjorie answered the phone. 

Thursday 

Marjorie stepped aside as she opened the office door to let Julie enter. They exchanged a cheery greeting just as Beverley burst in.  

“Are you ready to go? And have you told Billy where you’ll be in case of an emergency?” 

“No, but I’ve told the children.” Marjorie turned to Julie and shouted good-bye, who was already, at her desk. 

Already dressed and lying on his bed, Billy heard the grandfather clock chime nine-thirty a.m. The children were gone; it was time to move. Without any hesitation, he went down to the offices and emerged ten minutes later. He had done it. Without a hint that she knew he was behind her, he grabbed her neck, and with one swift twist, it broke. Back in the lounge, he smashed the ornaments, threw the television over, before quietly walking upstairs to shower. Minutes before the bus was due to arrive; he left the house and locked the door. Making his way hastily to the garage he found a tyre lever and went back to the door. He eventually levered it open, replaced the tyre lever, and then went for the bus.  

“We’ve had a break in Dad,” shouted Sam as Billy entered the door. 

Billy swallowed nervously asking: “What’s been taken?” 

“I don’t know Dad.” 

“How’s your mother?” 

“She’s been out all day with Auntie Beverley.” 

Billy grabbed Sam’s arm, “What do you mean she’s been out all day? Today is the day she works alone in the office.” 

“I’ve phoned the police,” called Rosie’s, her little voice tense with excitement and bewilderment. 

“Who was downstairs today?” Billy shouted. 

“Julie, Mom’s secretary,” answered Sam as he finally wriggled free from his father’s grip. 

He wasn’t aware of Marjorie’s arrival home, nor the arrival of the police until they briefly spoke to him. All he could think was keep calm. There was no way on earth they could suspect him once Marjorie explained about the stairs. They left him and went downstairs, five minutes later, he heard them return and briefly speak to Marjorie who accompanied them upstairs.   

Billy began to relax; they have nothing to go by he thought, a quiet smirk across his face. “No way,” he whispered to himself as the sound of their footsteps approached him. 

“William Hart, I’m Detective Sergeant Peters of CID I’m arresting you for the murder of Julie Pearce.” 

He protested his innocence loudly, he was blind, did not go down those steps until Marjorie interrupted. 

“Billy. You know that overpriced high street gimmick I bought.” Billy nodded his head. “Well. Julie was messing around with it and it would appear it had a fault. 

“OK, replied Billy. What was she playing with? Surely she knows not to play with your stuff.”  

“On this occasion, it’s just as well that she did.” 

Billy began to feel uneasy. Surely, they couldn’t think it was him. Could they? 

“What was she playing with?” 

“It was a small camcorder. The record button was jammed. So it captured the whole thing.”