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@ Scot Haswell
2025-04-16 03:42:09"No," I said, "you've got no right."
Sergeant Curtis sighed. "Come on, Mister Alton, I need you to work with me here."
"No," I said. "Absolutely not."
"He did it," shouted Mavis Harris, my recently new neighbor, leaning over the garden fence. "I saw him! He had a knife, a carving knife. And I heard the screaming and the shouting! He did it!"
"Thank you, Miss Harris," said Sergeant Curtis. "We've got it from here."
We were in my beautifully manicured backyard, sweating under the midday sun, along with six other police officers--all of them armed with shovels, ready to dig.
"This is an invasion of my privacy and I won't have it," I said.
"If you just tell us where your wife is we can get this all cleared up," he said.
"I'm not married," I said. "I've never been married."
Sergeant Curtis chewed on that for a bit, while he did the same to his bottom lip. "Girlfriend then. Partner?"
"I have no girlfriend. No partner. There's nobody at all," I said.
But there was. Sort of. Cindy, wonderful, difficult Cindy.
"He's lying!" said Mavis Harris. "I've seen her. Through the window. One time I called by when he wasn't here and she was just sitting in there, not moving. Wouldn't even answer the door. She must've been terrified, the poor girl. I bet he had her tied to the chair!"
That was absurd. Cindy wasn't into that kind of thing. I would never tie her to a chair and leave the house. That's crazy talk.
"We've got more than one eyewitness that says there's been a woman in the house with you," said Sergeant Curtis. "How about we get this woman on the phone, clear this up?"
"I can't make the impossible happen, Sergeant," I said, stiffly.
My back door opened and Constable Jenkins stepped onto the verandah. "Got a carving knife missing from a set of six," he said.
"I told you, he went after her with a knife!" said Mavis Harris.
She was right. Things had got heated. Words were said. The knife had made an appearance. There had definitely been some stabby-cutty action. Much to my dismay. I hated that it happened. I guess I was going to have to live with the damage.
Sergeant Curtis sighed. "This isn't looking good, Mr Alton."
"I bet he put her under the roses!" said Mavis Harris. "That's where I saw him heading with the body!"
"Alleged body," I muttered.
"Jenkins, any sign of blood in there?" said Sergeant Curtis.
"None whatsoever," said Jenkins. "Not even under black light. Couldn't spot any in the garden either."
"He must have cleaned it up," said Mavis. "Bleach. Bleach will clean up anything. And I saw him, I saw him carry her out and she had what looked like a knife sticking out of her chest!"
"Last chance, Mr Alton," said Curtis, "let's get this lady friend of yours on the phone and clear this up."
"I told you, I can't do the impossible," I said.
"Then you're leaving me no choice," he said.
He turned and nodded at the waiting officers with their shovels. "Start with the rose garden," he said.
They rolled up their sleeves with obvious relish and got to work.
"This is destruction of private property," I said. "When you're done, every rose petal, every grain of soil, better be back exactly as it was. Or you'll be dealing with my lawyer."
"Don't worry," said Sergeant Curtis, "I assure you everything will be put back as we found it. Whether we uncover anything or not."
As we watched the officers desecrate my rose garden, Sergeant Curtis said, "You know there's probably a few million square kilometers of country, forests, lakes, beaches, and do you know where most killers bury their wives or husbands? On their own property, right in their own backyard."
"Convenience trumps everything, I suppose," I said.
"Laziness," said Sergeant Curtis, "most casual criminals are just bone lazy."
"Or," I said, "they maybe wanted to keep their loved ones close."
Sergeant Curtis looked at me, eyes narrowed. "Is that what it is? You kill them, but somehow you want to keep them close?"
I shrugged. "Things happen. But you still love them. Maybe, you want them to be close to home," I said.
Curtis glared at me.
After a while Constable Jenkins climbed out of the rose garden and moped his sweating forehead with his sleeve. "Nothing here," he said. "This soil is pretty solid, hasn't been dug up in a while."
"The other rose bed," said Mavis Harris, "he must have used the other rose bed, beside the shed."
Damn that woman, why won't she keep her mouth shut?!
Constable Jenkins went over and stabbed his shovel into the dirt a few times. "Yeah," he said, "this has been dug up recently."
"Okay," said Sergeant Curtis, "get to it."
"I really must protest," I said. "This is a violation of my rights!"
"I'm sure we'll be done soon enough," said Sergeant Curtis, with a tight smile.
I turned and stared daggers at Mavis Harris, who haughtily thrust her nose and chin in the air, a smug smile on her face. Damn that woman and her meddling ways!
The officers found my second rose garden easier going. They were at it about twenty minutes when Constable Jenkins suddenly said, "Jesus Christ!"
"What, what is it?" said Sergeant Curtis, coming to attention.
"I ... I don't know," said Jenkins. "Hang on ..." He scraped at the dirt and then leaned over, grabbed something and lifted it out of the dirt.
A leg.
"Jeezuz," said Jenkins, letting the leg drop back into the soil. "I think we found her!"
"I knew it," said Mavis Harris. "I told you! Didn't I tell you? He did it! He killed her!"
They worked quickly now, gently digging and scraping away dirt until they could lift her other leg out. My beautiful Cindy doll.
"We've got a knife," said Jenkins, "but it's ... it's ..."
He turned to look at me, his face twisted in disgust.
"What is it?" said Curtis.
Jenkins swallowed, hard. "It's ... the knife, it's ... it's stabbed ... up between her legs, if, uh, if you know what I mean."
"Oh my god, you absolute monster," said Mavis Harris, clutching the neck of her blouse.
I sighed. They had no right. No right. This was a private matter. It was nobody's business but mine and Cindy's. We would work it out, Cindy and me. We always did.
"Okay," said Curtis, "get her out of there, quick! Check for a pulse, just in case."
"She's gone, Sarge," said Jenkins. "She's stone cold dea--wait, hang on a second."
He did some more digging and scraping with the shovel and slowly eased my Cindy all the way out of the dirt.
"Oh, bloody hell " said Jenkins. "You have got to be kidding."
"What, what is it?" said Curtis.
"Oh my, oh my Lord," said Mavis Harris, "I feel sick."
Jenkins struggled a bit with the weight, but managed to get Cindy upright. She is a bit of a heavy lass, I have to admit.
"It's a doll," said Jenkins. "It's just a doll, a sex doll, I think." He lifted Cindy's arm and made her give a little wave. "Seems to be silicon. Wow, very life-like, I must say." He was gently squeezing Cindy's arm and nose and cheek with his fingertips.
I seethed. The disrespect!
"A doll?" said Curtis.
"Yes, sir."
Curtis turned to me, his face a throttled purple colour. "A bloody sex doll?!"
I said nothing.
He struggled to keep his anger in check. "I could arrest you for obstruction of justice, Alton, for wasting Police time and resources," he said.
"How?" I said. "I was nothing but absolutely honest with you. There was no wife, no girlfriend, no body. I told you this repeatedly. You chose to ignore me and you, sir, have wasted not only my time, but that of your department and your own men."
I left him there, chewing air, and went to Jenkins and took Cindy gently in my arms. Her wounds were bad but not unamendable.
"Pervert," hissed Mavis Harris. "He's a dirty little pervert!"
I headed for the house, but paused at the back door and said, "I will expect you to return my rose gardens to their absolute pristine condition. My lawyer already doesn't like your department, not one bit, Sergeant Curtis."
I did not wait for a reply. I went inside and closed the door, quietly, behind me.
Night was coming on and the police had returned my garden to its former glory, and departed. A cool breeze drifted through the kitchen window.
I was at the table with Cindy, tending her wounds. Silicon glue isn't cheap, I'll tell you that, and it would leave Cindy with some scars, unfortunately. If I'm honest, I don't think she was all that pleased about it. As I knelt down to treat a wound across her ribcage, I copped her knee right in my groin.
"Ugh!" I said, the wind snapping out of me and tears rimming my eyes.
I reached out to steady myself and that's when she lurched forward, out of her chair, and headbutted me square in the face.
"For godsakes, Cindy!" I said.
She was baring down on me. I grabbed her by the shoulders, pushing her up and back, but like I said, she wasn't exactly a lightweight. I staggered back with her falling into me, and I winced as the edge of the kitchen counter stabbed into the small my back. Cindy gave me another hit to the testicles with her hand, making me gasp.
I rolled us around, putting her back against counter, silicon squeaking against marble--see how she likes it. I almost took another groin hit from her other hand. I was bending her back over the kitchen sink and without realising it, I had grabbed one of the serrated steak knives in my fist, raised it over my head, and was ready to drive it down into the open O of her mouth.
And that's when I looked past Cindy's head, out the kitchen window, across the fence, and over there in her kitchen window was Mavis Harris. Staring right at me, at us, her mouth an identical open O to Cindy's.
We stared at each other for a long moment, and then I reached up and slowly closed the kitchen blinds.
I sighed. I decided that Mavis Harris was a problem I just couldn't tolerate. Her constant invasion of my privacy was one thing, but calling the police was unacceptable. I would have to take care of her at my earliest opportunity. But carefully. And I had just the spot for her, out behind her very own shed.
Right next to Henry Patterson, the last neighbour and resident of that house, who had also gotten far too nosey for his own good.
Yes, a real nice spot, and close to home.