To Murder Matt (31 page)

Nico was cooing at Michael like a pro, who was gurgling his replies back to him as though they were having a deep and meaningful conversation, when the deed had been done and the nappy had been successfully changed and dealt with, Nico handed Michael back to Veronique.

“Okay, okay. The job is yours. Move in NOW, please!” Her smile was a mile wide.

“Going to get my things
right now
. But I need my shirt please...” Laughing she took it off. “Maybe not just right now.” He said looking at her now naked body, her bare breasts, her slightly rounded stomach and her curvaceous childbearing hips tapering down to her long and still bronzed legs. “You are all woman, young lady. All mine.” He took a step towards her, his hands outstretched to take her again but she refused him playfully.

“Go! Go!  I shall still be here when you get back and hurry!” She put Michael down, grabbed a bathrobe and put it on.

He dressed quickly, kissed them both on the cheek, and then went back and kissed her again but on the mouth this time, before he left the house.  She stood at the door with Michael in her arms smiling, as he got into his car, and drove away. He waved and beeped the horn as he left. She was so caught up in her love for him that she still didn’t see the black car parked across the road, its occupant watching her every move.  She closed the door, and went inside. She put Michael in his playpen with some toys and she went to prepare his breakfast.  She smiled at him, as she cut his toast into little fingers ready for him to hold.

The doorbell rang and Veronique ran to it.

“Hey, back already? That was quick! Did you forget something?” She laughed. Without thinking, she had opened the door fully, and Matt rushed in with the force of an angry rhino. He pushed her against the wall, his hand around her throat. Her head was pushed hard against the wall, her arms flailing trying to hit at him.  She couldn’t breathe and her eyes were wide with fear. She tried to kick and scream and push against him but he was too strong.  Before, she would have stayed still and calm, knowing that he liked a struggle but this time, she was like a wildcat. She tried to fight and scratch and kick. Everything for her own self-preservation.

“I was sat outside. I watched your lover boy come here. He stayed all night. You fucking whore. You know you are mine.” He let her breathe a moment and she started to speak, to plead. “Don’t talk. I don’t want to hear it.” He punched her in the face and dazed she fell into the living room and against the sofa that had been a place of such passion and happiness only last night.  Her nose had been broken and blood started to pour from it, the blood splattering, as she breathed, and dripping everywhere.

“Matt, stop this!” He hit her again, this time fully in the mouth, breaking some of her teeth and splitting her lip.

“I said don’t talk, you whore!” Blood started to pour from her mouth as well, and she tried to stem the blood with the back of her hand as she tried to stand up, her only thoughts, to move away towards the door to distract him from Michael who was oblivious to what was going on. He kicked her back down and she inadvertently screamed from the pain.

Michael heard the commotion and suddenly realised that something was wrong with mummy and he started to cry in his playpen. Matt looked up and across to the baby, a blind rage filling his eyes. He was like a bull to a red rag. He went over to the playpen and Veronique tried to stand, her whole body in agony.  She grabbed onto his jacket as he moved towards Michael.

“No! Go away. Go away! Leave us alone!” She screamed with all her might. He ignored her and looked at the baby with such hate.

“You ugly bitch; this is the ultimate betrayal.” He lunged forward and grabbed Michael roughly. Michael had started to cry loudly and this incensed Matt further. Veronique screamed and was grabbing at Michael to try and get him from Matt but he held him higher. Her heart filled with dread.  He threw him at the wall with all the force he could muster and Veronique screamed. Michael was screaming too, in terror and in pain. She turned and tried to get to Michael first but Matt grabbed her by the hair and pulled her back and threw her behind him. He grabbed the baby by the throat and squeezed.  Veronique scratched and bit and kicked at him. She bit his wrists and kicked him as hard as she could. Michael was going blue and had stopped crying and still Matt didn’t stop. All his strength and focus was on killing the baby. Killing the bastard that had come from his sister’s loins. Veronique was in a blind panic. Screaming and shouting, crying and kicking with a strength she didn’t know she had. But still, it had no effect.  She fought with Matt with every ounce of her being, fought him for everything he had done to her. She wanted her son off him at any cost. She ran through to the kitchen and grabbed a large knife and returned and started plunging it into Matt from behind. She thrust the knife into Matt, over and over again, an animal guttural sound escaping her as she did so.  When the pain finally registered with Matt and he realised what she was doing he threw Michael’s lifeless body down to the floor and staggered from the room, leaving a trail of blood behind him.

***

V
eronique looked at the lifeless body of her son. She picked him up and cradled him, his body and limbs all at odd angles and then she ran to the phone to call for an ambulance.  She sat down by the phone and cradled him. She felt for a pulse and finding none started CPR, something she had learnt during her time on the ships. Tears ran down her cheeks as the years of training kicked in.

“Come on darling, don’t go, stay with mummy, come back to mummy. Don’t go.”  She wailed as she worked on him. “I love you.”

An ambulance man arrived and taking in the sight of the dishevelled room, the trail of blood, the bloody knife on the floor then seeing Veronique with the baby on the floor, her bloodied and swollen mouth breathing into her son’s mouth, he knew it had been a scene of domestic violence. He leapt into action, putting his own thoughts and feelings aside.

“Call the police quick whilst I take over from her. We’ll need more medics to look after her too.” He tried to take Michael from Veronique who didn’t want to let him go.

“Miss. I need to do this. Please let me help you.”

The two ambulance men started working together as a unit and Veronique was on her knees wailing at the side of them, willing him back to life. She was oblivious to her own injuries and the fact she was covered in Matt’s and her own blood. A policewoman arrived and tried to calm her but she didn’t hear anything.  All she could say was “My baby, my baby,” over and over again.

The ambulance men shook their heads, now realising that his neck had been broken, he had suffered numerous broken bones as well as extensive internal bleeding, and they knew there was nothing they could do. Seeing them stop working on him Veronique screamed and pleaded and begged for them to save him but it was all too late.

The ambulance man carried him out to the ambulance and Veronique was running at the side of him trying to take him back into her arms. The policewoman followed behind watching her intently.  She placed her hand on her, to try and calm her but Veronique didn’t notice.

“Oh my God, Oh my God. Oh my God.” Veronique repeated to herself in shock. She got into the ambulance with him and the policewoman joined her. One of the policemen closed her front door to her house and stayed behind waiting for forensics. Before the ambulance doors closed the policewoman spoke into her radio.

“I’m on my way to the hospital, Sir. No we don’t know what’s happened yet.  But the scene is being preserved by PC Wade; he has stayed behind and the woman is with me and currently unable to answer my questions at the moment. The minor is deceased.”

Veronique heard none of this. She was holding onto Michael’s beautiful little hand and was speaking with him.

“Wake up baby, wake up. I love you. Wake up.”

At the hospital the nurses tried to see to Veronique’s wounds but she refused to be parted from Michael and so the nurses removed her blood soaked bathrobe where she was and were surprised to find her body was ok. She was bruised but she had no bleeding wounds underneath. They placed the bathrobe into a secure bag, provided to them by the police, and dressed her in a hospital gown, and then treated her broken nose and swollen mouth.

“Wake up baby, wake up.” Veronique repeated over and over again. “He has to wake up” she said to the nurse, through her copious free falling tears. The nurse smiled gently, knowing that she was in shock. The doctor would be giving her a sedative soon.

The door opened and Nico walked in.  He had been crying and had red swollen eyes from the tears. Nico had returned to the house to be informed by the police of what had occurred and had come straight to the hospital. His belongings were still in the car.

“Oh Veronique.”

Nico took her into his arms. She melted into him and he felt her body, wracked with heart wrenching sobs, against him. 

Over her shoulder, he saw Michael’s little body on the bed, and he silently cried, with her.

A
s Nico held her in his arms, his own heart was breaking too.  He had loved Michael as his own son. He didn’t quite understand what had happened.  Only this morning they had all been happy. All of them about to start a happy new life, together, and now it was gone. Why did this happen? How did it happen? His heart ached at the thought of it all.  Veronique seemed unaware of her bruised and battered face. Her eyes now black and swollen as well. Behind him, the door opened and the policeman, who had been assigned to protect them, stood in front of the door when the door opened. It was a policewoman and he stayed where he was.

“Excuse me, Sir. Could you come with me?”

“No. I can’t. She needs me.”

“It will just take a moment, Sir. I need to ask you a few questions.” Nico looked to the policeman. He nodded.

“I’ll stay with her until you get back.”

Nico reluctantly let go of Veronique. The moment she was gone from his arms, he felt bereft. He followed the policewoman from the room.

“Sir, we are trying to piece together the events of today. Can you help us?”

“I don’t think so.”

“Do you know who might do this?  Who would? An ex-boyfriend maybe?  Did she have an ex-husband? A jealous lover perhaps?”

“No.” He shook his head. “We were moving in together today. I just left them for a short while to get my things.” He held his head with his hands. “Only a short while. Why wasn’t I there to protect them?  Why didn’t I take them with me?  We were so happy.  We were all laughing and smiling.” Nico started to ramble,  “Michael was chuckling, you know.  I changed his nappy today for the first time. The first time as his father.” He choked on the word father and the policewoman put her hand on his arm to comfort him as he cried openly in front of her. Her job was never an easy one; but days like today made it worse, she too wanted to cry today. The little boy looked like a little angel and this seemingly happy family had been torn apart by this brutal senseless killing.

“Is the little boy yours?”

“I don’t know. I loved him as mine.” The policewoman wrote his comments down. They would need DNA samples from everyone as part of their enquiries. That would be an answer they had soon. “He could be. I don’t care if he isn’t; I loved him, all the same.  We worked together Veronique and myself. We started a relationship and she left. We lost touch and then we found each other again and decided to start again. We were so happy this morning. So very happy.”

“Well if you can think of anything Sir, please let us know. Anything at all.”

“Yes officer.”

He went back into the private room they had been given to use. Veronique was sat by the bed staring into space. Her hand still holding Michael’s.  Once again, she had mentally sunk into the depths of shock and despair, a private world that only she could access. She was unaware that Nico had returned. He looked at Michael and felt the pain well up inside. How could anyone kill a child? An innocent. A child should only know of love and joy in the safety of their parent’s arms. What kind of a monster would do this?

He went over to the bed and picked his little body up and held him to him in a tight embrace. His body was now cooling to the touch, but Nico didn’t care. He sobbed into his neck as he murmured how much he loved him. He gently rocked Michael and he cried. Veronique looked at Nico.

“Shhh,” she said. “Don’t wake him.”

Nico looked at his little fingers, fingers that this morning had curled around his own, fingers that had pointed and poked as he laughed.

He would kill whoever had done this to them. Whoever had done this deserved nothing less.  He would personally track him down and ensure that he watched the life leave his body. He laid Michael gently on the bed and went across the room.

“Sir.” He spoke to the policeman, “I have to go do something.  I can’t explain right now. Can you please stay with Veronique and not leave her side until I get back?  I want to make sure she is safe.”

“Of course. She will be protected.”

Nico drove back to the house like a maniac. He had no idea what he would find.  Earlier that day, when he had left, everything had been fine. Now their world had been turned upside down. He had been happily packing his belongings, laughing with joy, as his world being crushed and his loved ones were in terror. When he had arrived at the house, a police car was outside and the police officer told him she was at the hospital, but not what had happened. He had raced to get there. The terror and anger that he felt when the police officer had told him to go to the hospital, had made his blood run cold, as though his own heart was being forcefully removed from his body.

Now he had to go back to the house and face whatever was there.  Now he would be entering the house in very different circumstances.  He was in a maelstrom of emotions, like a Pandora’s box had opened up, consisting of anger, fury, grief, pain, sadness, disbelief, shock, love and hatred all together. His emotions flitted from one to the other with only seconds apart, sometimes less. It was unbearable. Now he was in a murderous rage. A rage that called for blood, for revenge. Only that could end his suffering.