The Perfect Murder: Spine-chilling short stories for long summer nights

Jay’s back crashed into the mid-aisle desk. He caught his breath as the pain exploded through him, but still he continued.

‘I mean, maybe it’s better. Before it goes too far.’

Dave sneered. ‘Go on then son. If that’s what you want, walk.What are you waiting for?’

Jay looked at his father, then at the door. His heart pounded and for a split-second he almost imagined his father could hear it beating as well. He nodded then turned and slowly walked towards the doors. As Jay reached for the door he froze in terror, hearing the unmistakeable sound of the trigger being drawn behind him.

He turned around slowly; his eyes first on his dad and then on the sub-machine gun pointing at him. Jay’s eyes brimmed with a shallow pool of tears as anger, hurt and resentment shot through him.

‘No one turns their back on me. No one. Least of all my own son. You want to walk; go. But it’ll be the last walk you ever do.’

Jay breathed heavily, watching his dad walk towards him with the gun still pointing his way. Dave stopped inches away from his son, leaning in and making it hard for the others to hear what he was saying.

‘Son or no son, I will shoot you. No one leaves unless I tell them to.’

Jay spoke, his voice strained with emotion. ‘Then tell me something, Dad. How the hell are we going to get out of here?’

10.48 a.m.

Dave spoke to Mike and Jay. ‘We’ll get out of here. Tomorrow we’ll be drinking fucking pina coladas by the pool. Trust me, when have I ever let you down before?’

Without waiting for a reply or taking notice of the sidewards glances, Dave scanned the plan of the bank. Pointing his finger, he nodded to himself. Hope and enthusiasm in his voice, he ignored the hostile stare coming from the pretty brown haired pregnant woman on the ground.

‘I’ve got it. As we know the safe’s got a back entrance leading down to the vault. The far side wall is double bonded but behind it, is our route out. It leads into the sewers. Once we’re through, if we walk south facing, the bypass sewer will take us underneath the main precinct; from there we can make our way up to ground level following this route here.’

Dave traced his gloved finger along the plans before continuing authoritively. ‘The route’s used for the underground sewage workers, so access won’t be a problem. So what do you reckon?’

Mike looked at Dave, his beady eyes staring out of the demonic mask he was wearing. ‘Oh yeah, sounds great … one thing though … how the fuck are we supposed to get through the back wall?’

‘With these little beauties.’

Dave Cole held up a handful of explosives; the same ones that Jay had placed on the teller’s window.

‘The back wall sits next to the gas pipe. Place these babies on the wall … boom!’

‘You’re fucking crazy. The whole place will go up.’

‘I repeat, put your weapons down. Come out with your hands on your head.’

The police tannoy sounded again, interrupting the conversation. Dave pulled Mike into him. ‘Look, we ain’t got many options, unless of course you’ve got any better ideas. But I for one, am going to get the hell out of here. You can stay here for all I care, but me? I’m already smelling freedom.’

Dave grabbed his bag and signalled for Jay to follow him. He pointed at the customers.

‘Tie them up, but we’ll need to take a couple of them with us, just in case we need some bargaining powers. Take him, her and her. The rest of them, tie them on the desks. Stick a couple of charges on them, might make them think twice about playing the hero.’

‘But …’

Dave’s stare was levelled and cold as he interrupted his son. ‘Don’t talk. Don’t think. Just do it.’

Jay and Mike bent down, quickly pulling and grabbing the customers. Mike began to separate them, pushing aside the people Dave had chosen. Pointing his gun at their heads, Mike scrambled to get the rope out of the backpack, expertly tying their hands behind their backs and on to the steel legs of the desk.

‘Shut up!’ He yelled at the fat woman Sheila, who began to cry; shaking and pleading for her life as he placed the explosive between her legs, strapping it on with silver tape. Next he wrapped the tape across her mouth, gagging her words of fear.

Jay turned his head away, unable to look. As he did, he caught his father’s stare who gave him a pitiful look. He chewed on the inside of his mouth, trying to ignore the growing anxiety in his stomach and the realisation that his father would stop at nothing to get them out of there.

10.53 a.m.

‘Move. Move!’ Dave echoed Mike’s words as they walked down into the vault. The corridor was quiet and the heat began to creep over Jay; stifling, squeezing the breath out of his lungs. He wanted to take the balaclava off, free himself of the cloying sensation, but he knew it wasn’t an option.

The corridor, barely wide enough for walking side by side came to an end. In front of them was a vast steel door.

‘Now what?’ Mike mumbled through his mask at Dave.

‘Now Sheila here puts in the numbers.’

Dave stared at the cashier, who quaked at the fact her name was being used. Her forehead was veiled in sweat and the usually rosy cheeks were pale and drawn.

‘Give me a minute, I have to think.’

Dave nudged her, angry at the woman who seemed to be playing games with him. ‘You ain’t got a minute darlin’.’

Her voice shook but her tone was firm. ‘If I don’t remember the numbers, no one’s going anywhere.’

Dave got out his mobile phone then stuck it in front of Sheila’s face. ‘I think this will help you remember.’

The picture was of Sheila’s daughter, Laura. She gasped, covering her face with her hands; showing her bitten down nails.

‘One of my men is waiting there now. All it will take is one phone call from me.’

‘You bastard.’

Dave grinned. He spoke in a menacing hush. ‘Now, where were we? Oh that’s right, you were remembering numbers.’ Dave prodded Sheila again, only this time harder. She cried out, resulting in the old man who’d remained silent until now, speaking up, his elocuted voice cutting through the strained quiet.

‘Leave her alone.’ His grey eyes watered as he stared with derision at Dave.

‘What have we got here then?’ Dave walked to where the old man was standing, narrowed his eyes and leant in, a scornful look on his face.

‘If I were you old man, I’d keep it shut.’

The man looked flustered but continued to stare at Dave.

‘My name’s Robert and I’ll do no such thing.’

‘Won’t you?’ With a sneer, Dave kicked away the man’s walking stick, sending him sprawling on the floor. Jay ran to help him but his father blocked his way.

‘Going somewhere, son?’

Through his balaclava, Jay looked at his father and then at the old man, holding his wrist on the floor.