Jams Roses - Son of a Serial Killer

‘DI Summers,’ she said.

‘Hello, detective,’ said Ben.

Summers thought she recognised the voice but had to confirm.

‘Err, hello. Who is this please?’ she asked, before fumbling with the phone and turning it onto speaker mode.

‘It’s Ben, Ben Green,’ said the voice on the other end of the phone. ‘You said to call if I had any information that may help you in your enquiries, so, well, here I am, calling.’

Kite opened his mouth to speak but Summers reacted quickly and placed her hand over his lips. This was her show, she was in charge. Kite leant across her, gently opened the glove box and pulled out a digital audio recording device. Summers was happy to see Kite had come prepared. He pressed record, and Summers went on with the conversation.

‘And what is it you’d like to tell me, Mr Green? What information do you have for me?’ asked Summers. ‘Would you like us to collect you? We could go to the station and talk about things.’

‘Oh no, that’s ok, there’ll be no need for that,’ replied Ben. ‘In fact, I think I know exactly who The Phantom is, and I may be able to get you a confession. Would you like that?’

Summers and Kite looked at each other, ‘is this guy for real?’

‘Go on,’ said Summers.

‘Firstly,’ Ben continued, ‘I am not The Phantom. I know you think it’s me, but it’s not.’

‘Ok,’ said Summers.

‘But, I am not innocent,’ said Ben. ‘I’ve got some problems in my head and sometimes I do crazy things.’

‘That’s ok, Mr Green. We all do crazy things sometimes, it’s normal,’ said Summers, ‘we can get you help for that, Ben. I can call you Ben? Is that ok?’

Ben chuckled lightly.

‘It doesn’t matter what you call me. But I’m beyond help, that’s for sure,’ he said. ‘I have a letter for you, which is a confession to my sins, my crimes, and I believe I am in a position to get a confession from The Phantom, too.’

‘What crimes, Ben? What have you done?’ she asked.

‘Oh, well, I suppose I can tell you now,’ said Ben. ‘I killed a couple of kids under the bridge the other day. And I’m about to commit my third murder.’

‘Call for back-up,’ mimed Summers to Kite, who quietly stepped out of the vehicle and called into the station.

‘Don’t do anything silly, Ben,’ pleaded Summers.

‘It’s too late for that, detective,’ he said. ‘There are things that you wouldn’t understand.’

‘Try me,’ she replied.

Ben laughed again down the phone.

‘Just listen, please,’ continued Ben, not giving up on leading the conversation. ‘Do you have a pen, I’m gonna give you an address. At this address you’ll find what you’ve been looking for.’

Kite slipped back into the driver’s seat and held four fingers up to Summers. They’d be waiting four minutes before any back-up would arrive.

‘Yes, I have a pen.’

‘The address is twenty-five George Street, on the Northchurch estate,’ he said.

‘Ok, I know the area,’ she said, very honestly, as she sat pretty much outside the house they were talking about. This amused Kite, who even at this late stage in the game retained his sense of humour.

‘So here is the deal, I give you a signed confession to three murders, and right now, I’ll get a confession from the one you really want, The Phantom,’ stated Ben.

‘And what do you want from me, Ben?’ she asked.

‘There is another letter,’ he replied. ‘All I ask is that you deliver it personally, to the addressee. She deserves an explanation.’

‘That seems fair, Ben,’ said Summers.

‘It’s the least I could do,’ said Ben, trying hard to remain strong in his darkest hour. ‘Now just stay on the phone, listen, and I’ll see what I can do for you.’

‘Just don’t do anything stupid, Ben,’ again Summers pleaded. ‘There’s already been too much blood shed.’

But Ben wasn’t listening anymore. He had the phone by his side as he made his way back down the stairs.

Ben was nervous as he stepped back into the kitchen. He didn’t even notice that for the first time since his mother and his girlfriend had met, they were actually having a fairly civilised conversation, no matter how much it was staged by the two of them.

Not that it would matter for much longer.

Ben paced nervously up and down the kitchen, wondering how to approach the subject that weighed down on his mind so relentlessly, asking himself if he had the courage to do what needed to be done for this whole sorry mess to be dealt with, then he looked out of the window and saw the cat, lifeless under the bush.

He turned to his mother.

‘The cat’s dead, mum,’ he said, dry toned.

Mrs Green turned to her son and grinned.

‘I knew you’d like that,’ she said.

‘Not really,’ he replied. ‘You see, I don’t enjoy killing things, mum. Not like you.’

Mrs Green, although feeling the effects of the alcohol that she was constantly pouring into her system, and the lack of decent sleep, didn’t miss the sour tone in her son’s voice.

‘What is it, Ben?’ she asked. ‘Come and sit down.’

With his back to the women, Ben pulled out a large and dirty knife from the kitchen sink, and slipped it up his sleeve before stepping back to the table and placing the phone near his mother.

Natalie noticed the sweat starting to form on her fiancées forehead. What on earth is going on? She thought to herself, wanting to go home and plan her future with the money she was soon to be stealing from the tortured soul that stood in front of her.

‘You know, mum,’ he said, ‘the police found some evidence on one of the dead bodies, some red hair apparently.’

Mother and son looked at each other. He knew. She knew.

‘It’s you, isn’t it?’ he said.

Mrs Green grinned.

‘You got me,’ said Mrs Green, not taking it as seriously as Ben would have liked, not a shred of remorse was shown.

‘You killed Charlie, and then you tried to convince me that I did it. That I’d done it and gone mad and not known what I’d been doing, like a right lunatic?’

Natalie was just catching on to what the two were talking about. She shifted slightly in her seat, not believing what she was hearing.

‘He was a fucker, that Charlie,’ protested Mrs Green, ‘and you needed a push. It’s you and me now, Ben, mother and son, seeing out our destiny together.’

‘Destiny? Killing people?’ he yelled at her. ‘We’re fucking ill, mum. Look at us. And dad? You were lying to me, why would you talk that nonsense about him? He was a good man.’

‘You would never have joined me,’ she replied, ‘unless you thought it was your father that gave you these damaged genes, this poisoned blood. Then I knew you’d accept it. You always loved him more than me, Ben. You always wanted to be like him.’

‘Fucking surprised are you? You’re nuts, mum, fucking mad,’ he screamed, struggling to control his emotions, understandably in the present situation.

Natalie was stunned, completely shocked. She still couldn’t believe her ears, which was unfortunate, as staying in a room with two people who were talking about murder and getting increasingly aggravated wasn’t a good idea. She needed to believe the words she’d heard. It would have been best.

‘And when he died,’ continued Ben, ‘what happened? Did he jump in front of that bus?’

Mrs Green sighed and took a large gulp of the wine that sat in front of her. It was time to tell her son the truth, the whole truth, if she really wanted him to join her on the ‘dark side’.

‘He’d caught me off guard. Shouting at me for drinking wine in the morning again, threatening to leave. Then he saw what I was doing, went bonkers he did.’