Free Evergreen (a suspenseful murder mystery) by David Jester

the main room faded as he walked further in, around the crates of soft drink cans and boxes of crisps and nuts, into a small living room area with a portable television and a sofa. The room was for Seamus to relax, but the bartender preferred to be amongst his customers at whatever time, he didn’t really have a closing time and treated the pub more like an open house where everyone was welcome at any time.
     
    The noise was softer in the living room, he sank back onto the couch -- lifting a veil of dust -- and closed his eyes. It had been a hard few weeks and he doubted the community would ever recover, but there was a good chance the authorities would get involved, whether he wanted them to or not. The police would tear Evergreen apart and rip out every member, accusing them of murder and of interfering with a crime scene. They would all then point their fingers at Patrick and he would be locked away for a long time.
     
    He groaned, rubbed his eyes. Then he saw the killer.
     
    He knew it was him as soon as he saw him. He was wearing dark, tight clothing. His face was clad in a thick black balaclava. He walked past the living room doorway, heading out into the pub. He didn’t turn towards the living room so he didn’t see Patrick there, but Patrick saw everything of him.
     
    His heart stopped, froze and then jumped anxiously inside his chest. His body spasmed into rigidity. He had finally seen him, finally had the chance to exact his revenge, but he couldn’t move from the couch.
     
    The figure walked back across the doorway, a phone pressed to his ear. He heard him talking; a gruff, fake voice. He couldn’t hear what he was saying but he could tell he didn’t want to give up his identity to the person on the other end of the line.
     
    He closed his eyes, tried to control his breath, to beg his mind to give him back control of his body. He strained every muscle, every nerve in his body to stand up but when he did, he nearly fell down again. His legs shook, his knees trembled.
     
    He tried another tact as he listened to the grumbled voice of the killer, overlapped by the shouts of bloodlust that boomed from the main room. He thought about little Siobhan Haynes, butchered outside her own front door. He thought about innocent Susie Flanagan, a mischievous little girl, but still just a little girl.
     
    He felt a rush of adrenaline, a surge of anger; he began to regain control.
     
    He thought about the Brady twins. The outspoken Aileen and the timid Mary murdered together. One of them had probably witnessed the death of the other before being killed herself. He thought of Matty McCleary and Edward Byrne, two young lads in the prime of their lives, the same age he was when he lost his father and his mother left him. He thought of Edward’s grandmother, of Janet Patterson, and then, with his body his own again, he was prepared to kill their killer.
     
    ***
     
    Someone brought a noose; someone else tied it to the rafters; someone else prepared the chair. Aidan watched Eddie’s face all the while, revelling in the horror as he studied the preparations for his own death.
     
    “You’re going to suffer for this,” Eddie warned, struggling to hold back a tear; a tear spilled through pain more than sorrow.
     
    Aidan shook his head slowly, “No,” he said confidently. “You’re the one who’ll suffer.”
     
    The chants rocked the foundations. Everyone was ready to watch Eddie’s life end, to witness retribution. Eddie tried to say something else but Aidan silenced him by rolling the gag up and stuffing it in his mouth -- jamming it in with so much force that he almost choked. He tied tape around his cheeks, stood back to admire his handiwork; Eddie looked like a plum-cheeked roasted pig.
     
    Aidan grinned at Eddie as the chants continued, “You ready?”
     
    ***
     
    Patrick watched the blackened figure head through a rusted door that stayed open behind him. He saw him descend a solid metal staircase into a