Hand Of Fate

He had watched the case unfold vicariously, in connection to his own ongoing events,

for weeks the Police had sort to track down the murderer of the young woman, and now through the use of forensic evidence that had been achieved.

Gary Henessey knew that for him the events would be just as unfortunate, he and two other Gentlemen were facing charges of fraud relating to, Insider Trading, False accounting and financial mismanagement, it was clear and and the two members related to the Board Of Directors were facing long prison sentences, unless something could be done. “But how to silence the main witness?” he inquired whilst watching the face of the man convicted of the young woman's murder, a single print of the third finger thus leading to him being indicted for the crime.

“If only there was a way to get to Richardson, he muttered. Right now he'll be on the stand giving evidence at The Royal Courts Of Justice, and what with the Press and Media, plus the heavey police pressence, it would be impossible to get to him. And even if we could hire a hitman it would still result in our convictions, even more so. There must be a way/” he told himself.

It was then that the phone wrang. Instinctively Gary leaned over and picked it up on the small red triangular table, where he usually rested his drink. By the sound of traffic it was clear that either Clive or Patrick, was phoning from outside The Royal Courts Of Justice, no doubt concerned about how the case was going.

“Hello, stated Clive, Gary can you hear me, Patrick's about to be cross examined by their Prosecuting Council, I've already been through it.”

“How did you do?” Inquired Gary anxiously.

“Not good, there wasn't much I could say in our defence. Richardson was and is, the companies auditor, we should have been more careful, for goodness sake we're facing over Twenty nine years in prison, my girlfriend's left and I don't think we'll have much of a future when we do finally get out of prison.”

Gary thought of this, he considered his home, his job and his career, and how he was prepared to do anything to protect them.

:They want you in the witness box in three days, I'm telling you this chap they've got has already torn me to pieces, our legal team is trying their best but the Judge keeps throwing out any objections they can come up with. I'm telling you, if we cannot find a way to silence Richardson we're all finished.

“Alright, I'll find a way. Stated Gary, leave it to me. He then replaced the phone. In truth he had no idea what he was going to do, he just needed time to himself. The forensic evidence, that was what caught the man whom had killed that young woman, her body found in a field, the murderer had tried to cover it up with twigs and branches, he had even tried wiping of the fingerprints, however it was clear he had not done a good job. And Gary knew that since he had a conviction for drinking and driving had occurred three years ago, his fingerprints would be on file, and any suspicion concerning the murder of Richardson would fall on him, especially since it was all his idea in the first place. Yet Richardson had to be stopped, “Before it was too late.” he muttered

Instinctively he arose from his chair, and convinced fresh air would improve his thoughts, he put on his coat and along with his keys and shopping bag, went out in order to think. “Perhaps the last ounce of freedom before the end of the trial, he concluded. He decided not to take his car, instead he chose to walk to his local library. Ironically he was a big Agatha Christie fan, and had gone there for inspiration. The woman behind the counter smiled, knowing him quite well, usually they would spend a few moments talking amiably, before he'd take out his usual books. This time however he did not feel like talking, especially not to the Prosecuting Council when the time came.

The woman looked up from her desk, and smiling, politely stated:

“Hello Mr. Henessey, did you enjoy the last Agatha Christie?”

“Yes thank you, I'm looking for one I haven't read yet, plus some other books that might be of interest.”

“Well, you may notice that we've had a change round, the Crime Fiction has been moved opposite the Fantasy and Occult Section.”

“I'm sorry, fantasy and what?”

“The Occult section, you know, Voodoo, black magic that sort of thing, spells, wax effigies, that sort of thing. Mind you being a down to Earth Businessman, you don't look like the sort that would be interested!”

“Well I'll give it a quick look. Just incase. He smiled politely before going over there.

He knew what a wax effigy was, and even though he was no expert in the world of The Black Arts, he was desperate for a solution and was prepared to try anything to save his freedom and especially his career. He read how a wax effigy made of that person, could be used to represent the individual in question, and that whatever happened to that person would happen to the individual in real life.

He read on, learning that for it to happen, you needed things closest to the person, mainly connected to either themselves, blood, sweat, hair, he began to think. He still had that letter from Richardson, written six months ago at the start of the inquiry. It had a small trace of dried blood on it where Richardson had cut himself shaving, and had been in too much of a rush to write the letter before allowing it to heal properly. Plus there was his fingerprint sweat stains, it as clear he had been frustrated that day, no doubt having discovered the events that had lead up to this case;

“Could it work? He inquired, there was only one way to find out.

Taking out another Agatha Christie, plus the book on The Black Arts, and two books by random thriller writers as he referred to them. He thanked the woman behind the counter and set off to buy items the book specifically instructed him too.

He spent over two hours looking for plasticine and chalk and wax candles all over London, however , having finally achieved all this he arrived home in order to perform the deed in question.

Removing the carpet from his bedroom, he set about drawing a pentagram as the book had instructed, then carefully filling in the strange words before placing each candle in one of the five points. Before deciding to light them with matches he set about making a crude effigy of Richardson before going to get the letter and inserting ripped up pieces containing Richardson's blood and sweat into the body. Before placing it in the centre. He then went to get the matches and light the candles. Kneeling down he began to mutter the incantation described within the book, at the same time pressing his thumb deep into the neck of the effigy. There was no change of weather, no lightning or thunderstorm and definitely no drop in temperature that he might have expected.

Disappointed at this he put everything away placing the effigy on the table and the items in a draw having blown out the candles and rubbed out the chalk. He then decided to go to bed, the time now 9:37. “Get an early night.he told himself, you're going to need it;

It was round about four in the morning that he was awoken by the heavey sound of knocking and going out towards the entrance in his pyjamas, noticed the reflected blue light from the heavy set glass of the door, opening it he noticed a Police car in the distance. A WPC sat in the driving seat, a Policeman next to her, however he was more concerned with the Officer standing there in front of him, a note book and pen in his hands, he stated:

“You are Mr. Gary Henessey?”

“Yes, why what's happened?”

“Do you know a man named Neil Richardson?”

“Yes, he's our company's auditor.”

“And the main witness in the ongoing fraud trial, that you and two of your colleagues are being accused of'

“Yes, why, what's happening?”

“Mr Richardson was found dead in his hotel, he had strangulation marks on his neck, we checked the files of all those related with this case. I'm afraid they exactly match those of the one with have for your drunken driving conviction, you need to come with us sir, you're under arrest for murder; We'll wait here while you get dressed.'

“I haven't been anywhere near him, I've been in my house all the time; I have no idea what is happening here.”

However Gary decided it was best to get dressed, it was whilst about to in his Bedroom that he stared at the effigy of Richardson, noticing clearly the indented prints within the neck for all to see.

The End