Stuart James - Apartment 6

The events of the last few weeks were running through her mind, and she was barely able to contain her excitement, the reality of what they’d achieved.

Phil screamed out, ‘Fifty fucking grand, Meagan. Fifty grand! Can you believe that arsehole?’

She yelled, hysteria taking over, her body tingling, unable to contain her emotions. She looked across at him and stroked his face, watching the motivation in his eyes, the wild expression.

‘It was so easy; I can’t believe the arsehole fell for it. Happy days, Phil. Happy frigging days.’ She picked up the mask which was sitting between the front seats. ‘I love this. Very effective. Bloody scary though.’

Phil looked across. ‘You did fucking amazing. A right little actress in the making.’

They’d conned Oliver with a plan they’d hatched when they met in a psychiatric hospital.

After Meagan had killed her mother, she’d gone off the rails, unable to cope with the guilt.

Her father went to prison, taking the blame for the death of his wife, keeping the secret to his dying day a couple of years back. Meagan had nothing to do with him. She had decided that being placed in a cell for a crime he didn’t commit was punishment enough. Meagan guessed he’d suffer in much the same way as her mother had.

Aunt Anne had stepped up to the mark, taking her niece in, looking after her, acting as her legal guardian and adoring her. And Anne had watched Meagan’s destruction as she rebelled against society.

During her early teenage years, Meagan was constantly in trouble; petty crimes at first on a small scale, getting into drugs, dealing, mixing with the wrong crowd. When she’d committed one too many offences and was arrested for grievous bodily harm, they locked her up. ‘You’ll serve time,’ her solicitor had explained.

Meagan pleaded with the court, playing the victim card.

She had a psychiatric evaluation. The diagnosis was paranoid personality disorder, often delusional. It was attributed to the trauma she had watched her mother suffer.

Meagan had been so damaged by her father’s cruelty to her mother that she subconsciously distrusted men. Men in general. But Phil was a tool, a way to help her get what she wanted. She was using him as a revenge mechanism. So far, it worked for her.

Phil had been locked up for fraud; he was a conman of the highest order. He’d faked a bipolar condition and gained entry to a hospital where he’d be loosely monitored. Anything was better than prison.

Meagan and Phil had struck up a relationship, eating meals together, talking whenever possible. The attraction was instant, but not sexual.

Phil had a plan, but he’d need help. He explained the idea to Meagan, and it was something they’d put to work as soon as they left the hospital.

He’d planned the con for years, and all he needed was help; someone who could play the victim, entice the opposite sex, get what she wanted. Meagan was perfect.

Meagan was released a couple of years before Phil. She’d taken regular medication, put her head down and it seemed like she’d finally got her life in order.

Once outside, she was down on her luck with nowhere to turn and no money. Her aunt had died years ago, willing the farmhouse to a charity. It was her final response to the shit that Meagan had put her through.

Meagan met Rob and fell for him hard. He was the perfect gentleman at first, treating her like a lady, showering her with gifts, providing a home; all the comfort she needed until he started slapping her about. The abuse was verbal at first, she could deal with that, just about, but it became severe, until he was knocking her about and beating her daily. She feared for her life, needed a way out. Meagan was trapped with nowhere to turn and nowhere to hide.

She received a text message from Phil. He’d been released, let out earlier than expected for good behaviour. He wanted to meet her and put the plan in action immediately. Meagan was worried, as she couldn’t even take a piss without asking her husband.

Rob had a trip planned, telling Meagan he’d be away for a couple of nights. That was perfect; she used the opportunity to meet Phil and get the ball rolling.

A couple of weeks later, it was time. She’d been attacked by her husband, kicked and punched like a rag doll, so it wouldn’t be difficult to find someone who would offer a helping hand.

Meagan had her eye on someone; he seemed perfect. She’d kept hidden, observing him, watching. She knew where he lived, what he liked, what he ate. While standing behind him at a cash point, he jabbed in his PIN. He requested a receipt that showed his balance, then he got distracted, removing his cash but leaving the printed receipt hanging from the machine.

Meagan watched him disappear into the crowd, knowing how much he had in his bank account. It was so easy observing people and monitoring their behaviour; you can get into anyone’s life. You’d be amazed at the stuff people throw into their bins: folded up pieces of paper, telephone bills, electric bills, bank details, money they owe, places they visit.

That morning at the train station, a tall, good-looking guy introduced himself. Meagan just had to play the game and act like the perfect victim.

The stage was set. Meagan was slowly starting to show interest in Oliver, leading him on then playing hard to get; exchanging numbers, telling him she worked as a nanny, her excuse for meeting more often on their commute to work, calling him and making out she was worried that her neighbour had killed someone.

Meagan had invented a character so believable that she was almost convinced herself.

She met with Oliver while Rob was out of the country, convincing him to kill her husband with the promise they’d be together. This was the part Meagan was most concerned about. She knew how difficult it would be to convince someone to commit murder, so she and Phil planned it carefully. Meagan had to act desperate as if her life depended on it. Rob helped in a perverse kind of way; the cuts she suffered at the hands of her husband were very much real, proving that he was a wicked human being.

Before Oliver arrived to poison Rob, she had swapped the door number on her apartment, number six, with apartment seven, which was empty. And so apartment six became apartment seven.

It was perfect. Phil broke in and waited in the bedroom upstairs, face down on the bed, while Meagan left what Oliver believed to be an autoinjector containing poison in the basement.

It was all played out in the vacated apartment next door to where Meagan lived, but as she waited in the café, she turned her phone on, and received a message from Rob while he was still in Spain. She’d never planned on bringing Oliver into her apartment, but realising her husband would be staying in Spain for an extra night, she quickly set it up for Phil to make a phone call, posing as Rob and telling her he wouldn’t be returning today. Oliver knew no different. It was the icing on the cake to convince Oliver he’d broken into the wrong apartment and killed the wrong man.

While they lifted the body into the trunk, Meagan made out she was going to look for a chain to secure it, while instructing Oliver to go home and get the car.

While he was gone, Phil stepped out of the trunk, and the plan was in full swing. They loaded the trunk with bricks wrapped in cloth.

Meagan and Oliver brought the trunk to the reservoir, and while Oliver rolled it into the water, Meagan stood behind him, recording everything. Evidence for blackmail.

All Meagan needed to do was torment Oliver, asking him over and over to kill her husband and finish what he started.

Phil watched Oliver closely, keeping tabs in case he really did try to kill Rob.

Once Meagan sent the video to Oliver’s phone, they knew he’d panic, and this would drive him into their hands.