Too good to be true

TOO GOOD TO BE TRUE

 

For the rest of the inhabitants of the large block of flats the morning began as usual. The lifts were busy taking residents who were on their way to work and parents with children going to schools. The doorman was occupied with making sure that no non-resident sneaked in while the main door was opening and shutting ceaselessly. The two ladies who were employed with maintaining the lifts and the floors spotless, were busy filling buckets with water and floor cleaner and putting rags and polish for dusting with, in their huge aprons. As the hour neared nine o’clock the lifts began to stop on the ground floor and the number of residents began to diminish. At ten o’clock the main door was flung open and a well-dressed male figure rushed in. He ran across the hall and got into a lift. He got out at the sixth floor and went to his front door and opened it. A young woman was standing in the kitchen drinking coffee. She smiled on seeing her husband, who shot her dead. He picked up the phone and rang the police, “Good morning, I’ve just shot my wife.”

The perpetrator said that he didn’t want to be married any more, and that was the reason why he had shot his late wife. Instant divorce. After the trial he was sent away to a psychiatric hospital, where he stayed until the residents of the building and the general public had more or less forgotten the crime. The hospital psychiatrist considered him to be of no danger to society, and duly discharged.

 

During the intervening twenty years, older buildings next to the area where the murder had taken place, had been demolished. Now newer and better ones occupied the area. In that time, the flat where the crime was committed had changed hands many times.

 

The night time temperature was twenty-five degrees, much too hot to be able to get a good night’s sleep. Jenna was tired and desperate for sleep. In the summer months she always held out till after midnight before getting into bed. She felt terrible, and dry in the mouth. Mason, her husband, was asleep unaware of her torment. Gently, she got out of bed and went into the kitchen, opened the cupboard and took out a glass. In the fridge was a jug of cold water, Jenna poured herself a glassful and stood in the dark enjoying the delicious feeling of the cold water running down inside her body.

As she wasn’t in a hurry to go back to bed, she sat down at the kitchen table. She had the feeling that someone was staring at her, but shook it off as a trick of her imagination. Jenna looked up and saw a woman standing in the window of the kitchen opposite hers and holding a mug. Jenna thought that this was strange as it was such a hot night. When her glass of water was finished, she rinsed out the glass and left it on the draining board to dry. Jenna went back to bed more relaxed, and fell asleep instantly.

 

A few nights later Jenna felt thirsty and went to the kitchen for a glass of cold water. She remembered the face she had seen the last time and switched off the kitchen light. The face was there and the body was in the exact same position and holding a mug of coffee. The second time, Jenna wasn’t in a hurry to go back to bed, so she stayed sitting at the kitchen table to find out what would happen. The figure of the woman didn’t move, it was as if she were a statue, and then all around her was darkness and the woman had gone. Jenna felt as in a dream. She went back to bed and curled up against her husband, a little in fear.

 

Jenna and her husband, Mason, had not lived in the flat very long. As they no longer went out to work and with adult children, they had decided to sell their house and get a flat, in order to make their lives easier. Jenna had not yet said anything to Mason about the woman in the window. The other woman’s flat was in a building opposite the one where Jenna and Mason lived, and from the condition of the exterior, was much older. During the day, Jenna had seen another woman in the kitchen who was older and very different from the one at night. At other odd times, a man had also been in the kitchen. Jenna and Mason were not from that district and so knew nobody very well. Nevertheless, Jenna’s curiosity was piqued, and she wondered why the woman only came out at night.

 

One day Jenna coincided in the supermarket with the woman who lived in the same house as the woman who appeared in the kitchen window with the mug, and began chatting.

“Hot, isn’t it? We sleep with all the windows open to try and get a little breeze. How do you manage?” asked Jenna.

“The same as you, I suppose. You’re new here aren’t you? Never seen you before, but I’ve seen you in your kitchen window.”

“Yes, my husband and I haven’t been here very long and are just beginning to find our way around. Our children no longer live with us, so this flat is perfect for our necessities, and so easy to keep clean. Have you got any children at home?” Jenna asked.

“No, we never had any children, it’s only ever been us two,” the woman answered.

“Ah, you have a quiet life then. Lived here long?” Jenna asked, desperate for information.

“For about five years. Please excuse me, but I have to go. Pleased to have met you. ‘Bye.”

Jenna watched as the unnamed woman hurried away.

 

Jenna, before retirement, had worked in an office in a transport company and had made friends with a girl who was a medium. She wondered whether Mila, the medium, was still practising or if she had given it up. Mason was sitting at his desk and working out business deals on his computer, which was his way of making extra money, now that he too was retired. So Jenna knew that she was free for a few hours between dinner and going to bed. Jenna had kept her old diaries with phone numbers and, after searching, and delaying herself with reminiscing every time, she saw the name of an old friend, she found the one she wanted. Mila answered at the sixth ring. “Good evening, Mila speaking.”

Jenna was excited at the sound of Mila’s voice, that used to be a daily occurrence at the transport company.

“Hello, Mila, it’s me, Jenna. You do remember me, don’t you?”

“What a shock to hear your voice again after all this time. How are you?”

“I’m fine, thanks. I wanted to know whether you’re still a practising medium. Are you?”

“As a matter of fact I am, but I’ll be moving soon and don’t have many séances. There’ll be one next week, if you’re interested.”

“Oh, yes, I most certainly am. When is it on?”

“Wednesday, at eight o’clock in the evening. The meeting place is in the back room of the Natural Life Centre. You know where it is, don’t you?”

“Yes, I do, Mila, and thanks a lot. I’ll make a point of being there.”

“Make sure you get there early or you won’t get a seat. See you then.” Mila rang off.

Jenna made a note of the time and place of the séance in her diary and put it in her bag. Mason was still busy with his online businesses.

 

That night Jenna made a decision, she would keep her camera at hand so that when the face appeared she would photograph it.

“Mason, what was this district like before these new buildings were put up?” Jenna asked her husband.

“The buildings were very old and were in a precarious condition, like the buildings opposite. Why do you ask?”

“Nothing really, I just wondered.”

 

Mason was grunting happily in his sleep when Jenna slipped out of bed and with her camera went into the kitchen. She repeated the usual ritual of getting water out of the fridge and sitting at the table with the glass of cold water before her. Jenna hadn’t turned on the light and sat in the dark, waiting. It was one-thirty a.m. when the woman showed her face in the window of the kitchen opposite. Jenna raised her camera to her eye and took several shots of the window and whatever might be seen in it.

Alone in the bathroom, Jenna looked at the camera to see whether or not anything had come out. The only thing was that where there should have been a photo there was just a white light. The window frame didn’t even show up. She sat down on the stool and felt quite demoralised. She had no proof that the woman existed, but then remembered the séance she was to attend on Wednesday night, and feeling more cheerful Jenna went to bed.

 

After the failure with the photo, Jenna on the occasions of nightly excursions into the kitchen for cold water, ignored the window deliberately. She was planning on getting a blind or curtains to cover it up, or misty panes of glass put in, to avoid herself looking at the window opposite, or whoever was in the window opposite from looking into hers.

 

Mila held her séances in the back room of the Natural Life Centre. From seven-thirty on, people started arriving at the venue; excited, curious, anxious about what might happen or what they might hear during the next two hours. There were chairs set out in a circle so that the participants were able to see each other clearly. Mila would be on a raised platform with a chair, in the centre of the circle. This was Mila’s idea, she was against the rows of seats and a stage, as she often said, “I’m not an entertainer. I’m just trying to help people to come to terms with their bereavement.”

Jenna sat down on one of the chairs and stared around her. There wasn’t much to see, so she opened her bag and put a mint in her mouth, in an effort to distract herself. All the chairs were occupied at five-minutes to eight. A young man closed the door and drew a curtain over it.

At eight o’clock sharp, Mila entered the room and stood on the platform. The young man stood beside her. Silence reigned.

Mila began speaking and then asked, “Is there anyone here who recognises the description?”

A lady spoke up, and a message was given, and then, after a few others, came the bombshell Jenna had been waiting for.

“There is a young lady here who is standing in her kitchen holding a mug of coffee. Does anyone recognise her?”

Before Jenna had time to say anything, because it was then she knew who the woman in the kitchen was, an unreal voice coming from Mila’s mouth said, “Mila, it’s me, Gerda. I used to work in the same building as you but in another department.”

The young man grabbed the chair and gently pushed Mila down onto it. The medium was in shock.

Jenna sat frozen. The rest of the audience was too stunned to say or do anything.

Mila asked the voice several questions, and then, “Why have you come back now after so long?”

The voice explained. “Archie’s been let out and has remarried and has a family. I’ve never left the flat. I can’t till justice has been done and so far I don’t see any of that.”

Mila spoke once more to the voice, “I really don’t see what I can do for you. But you must do your best to cross over, leave the flat, and go where you’ll find peace and tranquillity. You are punishing yourself where you don’t need to. According to the law, he’s served his time and now he can lead a normal life. I don’t suppose he ever gives you another thought.”

The voice returned. “He said he wanted instant divorce and he got it, and now he has remarried and has a family. I’d like to know what I did that was so bad he was able to kill me. He was always so good to me and I was happy with him.”

“I’ll do my best to find out.” Mila’s voice faded and the other woman’s too.

The young man turned to the audience, and said, “Due to the unforeseen happenings this evening, it’s better to finish this séance here and now.”

 

Everyone, except Jenna, got up and walked quietly out of the room. Jenna went up to Mila and told her how she had seen the woman in the window at night with a mug of coffee in her hand and hadn’t realised who it was.

Mila looked up at her old work mate and said, “You were the invisible link between Gerda and me. You were the only one who was interested in the occult, that is why you were drawn to buying that flat - you must have sensed something. This is my son, Leonard. I’m hoping he’ll carry on the practise when I feel too tired to do so.”

Jenna asked Mila, “I hardly knew Gerda. What’s her story?”

Mila said, “If you have the time now, I’ll tell you in the security of my own home.”

Jenna said that it was fine, and the trio set out for Mila and Leonard’s home.

 

Inside, Mila’s home was total comfort and warmth. The whole flat was in rich colours and soft lights. Jenna was invited to sit down on a feathery soft sofa. She sank back into the huge cushions, and after Leonard had served the two ladies a glass of sherry and minute biscuits, Mila began to narrate the events that had taken place so many years ago in the flat opposite Jenna’s.

When the story came to an end, Jenna asked, “He wouldn’t be living in that flat with his new wife, would he?”

“No, he’s living in an even more upmarket area with his new wife, who is absolutely loaded with money.”

“Do you think the people who are living in that flat feel Gerda’s presence? The present owners have only been there for five years.”

“It’s more than likely they don’t even know of what took place there.”

“How did you manage to be a medium, with an active social life?” Jenna asked.

“I had a few good friends, and left things at that, and Gerda, the woman who’s been trying to attract your attention, was one of them.”

“What can be done?” Jenna asked Mila and Leonard, who had been listening to the conversation.

“Leonard’s a lawyer and says, as Archie is now out legally, he can’t be tried a second time for Gerda’s murder.”

“There are so many questions that could be asked. He’s never going to give anyone the pleasure of finding out the truth,” Leonard said.

Jenna stood up and said, “I’d better be going. Mason may start sending out the police for me. Goodnight, Mila, Leonard. It’s been an eventful evening, to say the least.”

Mother and son waited till she had gone and then Mila yawned and said, “Goodnight, Leonard, see you in the morning. Let’s hope Gerda crosses over soon.”

 

Neither Mila nor Jenna lived long enough to see justice done.  Under the law a murderer could not benefit from the crime. So why had Archie killed Gerda? The flat they had lived in had to be sold, where did he benefit from killing her? No one was ever able to solve the riddle and his sons and grandsons thought he was wonderful - or so they said.

 

Death came to Archie when he was ninety-five years old. Only the good die young. He had suffered a series of strokes and then a cardiac arrest. He had outlived his second wife, and had been succeeded by two sons and four grandchildren.

Leonard, who was now a successful lawyer and knew the case of Gerda’s murder by heart, got a journalist friend of his to write a long obituary about Archie and the murder. How his offspring felt, or even if they read it, was of no consequence to Leonard. He did it for Gerda, his mother’s murdered friend.

 

When asked about the whole story, Leonard replied that every time Gerda praised Archie, before she was murdered by him, his mother used to say, “Gerda, from what you tell everyone, it would appear Archie’s too good to be true!”