Dead Men Don't Kill: The Matt Saga

By Viveca Benoir

The fourth in the Matt Saga. (After Matt - The Beginning, To Murder Matt, and Dancing with Devia) Matt takes his revenge on those who have wronged him in the past. A twisting novel, full of dark plot twists and shock turns.  Has Matt finally gone over to the dark side, and who will join him on his journey?

Another edge of the seat, jaw dropping, five star action novel. A book that will have you panting and breathless until the last dark and twisted page. Hold on to your hat as Viveca Benoir takes you into the darkest, most sinister corners of her mind and makes you hers.

Warning: Adults 18+ only due to the graphic content of some chapters.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Viveca Benoir
• Release date: Jul 5, 2015
• ISBN: 9781513037035

Viveca Benoir

Born to British Army parents, Viveca grew up in Europe and speaks six European languages fluently, which basically means she can buy food (and wine), wherever she goes. Married, with two biological children, plus four adopted children. Now, years later, the kids all grown up, she is an international best-selling author, writing a variety of genres, her favorite being exceptionally dark and twisted suspense romance/ murder mystery / Saga's.  She loves to get under people's skin and into their minds. Her books are for broad minded intelligent readers and not for the faint hearted at all, specializing in plotlines with shock elements that make some readers become violent with their Kindles. You will either love or hate her fictional characters, there is no in between with her writing. Her stories are unforgettable. Her hobbies, when not writing, include playing the cello (or trying to), and various other things that involve sitting down. All the athletic hobbies (horse riding, ski-ing, fencing, sailing etc) have now been put on the back burner so she can exercise her mind instead! She can be reached at:-  www.vivecabenoir.com www.facebook.com/vivecabenoir1 www.goodreads.com/VivecaBenoir www.google.com/+VivecaBenoir http://vivecabenoir.tumblr.com/ www.twitter.com  - @vivecabenoir

Book preview

Prologue

Get me out of here. I’ll pay whatever you want, his voice croaked.

The new relief nurse leant in to hear his words.  She had been told that he was comatose by the nurse that went to the toilet, a few minutes earlier; all she had to do was sit and watch him until she came back.

The man, covered head to foot in bandages, was trying to speak. His mouth moving and his words muffled.

Get me out of here. I’ll pay whatever you want, he rasped in pain.

But how?

Let me die.

What? she said in shock.

Then bring me back. You must have a doctor friend that can help. I will pay well.

Monsieur. I couldn’t.

You can...

How much?  She eyed him sideways and waited for his response. If he paid enough, she could buy a house, marry, and have a family. She wouldn’t have to work all the hours that God sent, cleaning bed pans for a living. She could be...rich.  She smiled to herself.

Whatever...  He tried to move, his hand just waving a few inches off the bed. You want.

Okay. I will help. You promise?  He nodded slightly. Okay I will be back in a minute. 

She crept from the room, past the four people sitting outside in a waiting area.  They were all so wrapped up in themselves that they never saw her exit. She was just another nurse walking silently down the corridor.

Remy! she hissed to the doctor standing by the counter. She bent her fingers to signal to him to follow her.  He smiled and finished his conversation.  She went inside a room and he edged inside after her.

Ma cherie, you naughty thing. I can’t right now! I have to do my rounds. He took her in his arms and started to kiss down her neck.

Stop it, Remy. I need to talk to you.

What? he said playfully, whilst still kissing down her neck.

Do you want to be rich, with me?

Well, money is good, but it’s not everything. He kissed her again.

Stop it. I’m serious! She pushed him away and he looked at her intently.

Okay, what? He shrugged.

I have a patient who wants us to help him escape.

Escape? Are you mad? He looked at her incredulously. This crazy sexy nurse of his would be his undoing, but he just couldn’t resist her.

No.  He needs to get out of here and he needs our help.

But.

No one would know...just you and I. She looked up at him coquettishly

And we would be rich.  She kissed him long and hard, taking his hand and placing it upon her firm breast. He looked at his hand on her breast and his resolve disappeared.

Okay, what do you want me to do?

Make it like this man is dead, and then we get him out and I nurse him elsewhere.

He thought for a moment.

Rich? She nodded. And no-one would know, but us? She nodded again. Okay. Take me to him.

Inside the hospital room, Matt was lying helpless. The machines were beeping and in various corners of the hospital room; tubes were attached to the semi conscious form lying on the bed. His condition was presently stable, but he was still on the critical list. The sound of the ventilator pulsed with each electronic breath, the pumps forcing air into the patient, causing his chest to rise, and after a pause, to fall as the air exhaled.  The doctor leant over to him.

Hello, I am Dr. Remy. I understand you want to talk to me.

Matt opened his eyes as far as he could. He looked at the doctor and the nurse, who were both standing by the side of his bed. He nodded slightly.

Let me die, then bring me back. I will pay well.

This won’t be easy.

Please, Matt begged. Please, he whispered with all his strength.

Dr. Remy looked at the nurse stood by his side; she nodded and put her hand on his arm in encouragement.

For us, she whispered.

It took only a few seconds for the doctor to start moving.

Go stand by the door.  She moved quietly across the room.  Matt smiled at the doctor and gave his thanks in the emotion of his eyes.

Moving swiftly, the doctor took out a syringe and some Propofol, a small vial of anaesthetic that he had meant to return to the medicine cabinet earlier.  He injected the liquid into the intravenous drip by the bedside and opened the tap to allow it to start dripping faster into the patient.  Matt smiled as the coldness of the liquid started to warm thought his veins. He felt it moving through his arm and up his shoulder.

The next moment, his heart stopped.  The machine showed that his heart had flat lined. There was no pulse. The doctor looked at the nurse. For us, she mouthed silently.

Above Matt’s door a large red light flashed on and off, in time with the alarm. Loud voices shouted urgently and running footsteps approached. Several nurses pushed a trolley with squeaky wheels into the room behind the doctors, and the door was suddenly shut.

Matt was dead.  But not for long.

Chapter One

Matt opened his eyes to such brightness. It was so bright he could hardly see. He squinted and felt the waves of intense pain and throbbing throughout his body.  He didn’t have one part of him that didn’t hurt.

Shhhhh. It’s okay. He heard the nurse whispering, You are safe.

Where am I?

In the morgue.

Morgue?

Yes.  It’s procedure when a patient dies. They are brought here, whilst the death certificate is processed, and then taken to a funeral home.

But.

Yes. It’s okay, I know.  He looked at her quizzically. His body was in such pain. We have hired a hearse. We shall take you to a place where we can look after you.

The pain increased and he groaned. Here, this will help.  She injected him efficiently; using the vial of morphine that Dr. Remy had given her.  He closed his eyes and slept.

He didn’t know when it was when he opened his eyes again. He didn’t know where he was. It was dark and he was stiff and aching.

Hello? he croaked out into the darkness.  He tried to say it louder, but his voice wasn’t there. His throat hurt and was dry. He licked his lips with his tongue, which felt bone dry and swollen.  His lips were cracked and the moment his tongue touched them, one started to bleed.

Hello? he called again into the darkness. He turned his head. In the corner of the room was a door and through the door there was the light showing through the crack.

Help. The words escaped his lips before he even had time to realise what he had said. He had never in his entire life asked anyone for help. He never ever thought he would say the word, but now he did. He knew he needed help.  His bladder was bursting and he needed to pee. For some reason he couldn’t.

He tried to move his hand but couldn’t. He furrowed his brow and put all his will and force into it.  His arm flew out and hit the lamp on the side table. It toppled and smashed to the floor with a crash.  He heard running footsteps and the door opened; the light blinding him suddenly. He closed his eyes and groaned.

Oh! The lady that had been his nurse in hospital came in to the room, she was wiping her hands dry on a towel. Oh, look at you. Your catheter and urine drainage bag are full. One moment.  He blinked at her.  She took out a fresh bag and swapped them over.  The full one round and like an orange balloon. The moment she did this, he felt relief as the pressure was removed from his bursting bladder. He sighed.

She took a small sponge and dipped it into a glass of water on the side table and dabbed along his lips. The water was so cool, and it felt like cold diamonds dripping into his mouth. He moved his tongue to collect them.  He was watching her move efficiently around him.  Her perfume filled his nostrils, a mixture of gentle body odour and lavender.  He felt the tears start to spring to his eyes, and he grunted to clear his throat.  She saw the tears and dabbed them as they rolled towards his ears.

It’s okay. You have been through a lot. It’s okay to be emotional sometimes.  She smiled at him in pity.  The moment she did that, his eyes changed. They became hard and she shivered. He hated the fact he was vulnerable. He hated the fact that she had seen him at his weakest. 

How long? he whispered, his voice breaking in and out of the words.

You have been here two months?

Two months?  He could hardly believe his ears.  He had been lying there for two months?

You had to rest. Your burns were extensive, your injuries, too. The pain you feel is the muscles and skin trying to repair themselves.

He nodded.

We have done what we can, but you will need to rehabilitate slowly. The skin has stretched and the tissues have scarring.  You will never look the way you did before.

He looked at her; his eyes following her every move. He said nothing.  She dabbed his lips again with the wet sponge, and he drank from the water droplets.

You might be able to have some reconstructive surgery, but that is your choice. She paused. Are you in pain? I have morphine.

He shook his head, determined to keep his wits about him. He didn’t want to stay drugged up and lose any more time. He had things to do. He needed to get better and soon.

What’s happening to my wife?

Your wife?  She looked at him as though he were mad.  The woman had tried to kill him, her and three others; it had been in all the newspapers. All were accused of killing him. I think she and a few others are in custody for your death. She smiled.

Yes, they think you are dead.

Matt almost smiled. He couldn’t because of the tightness of the burnt skin on his face. He wanted to move, but his body was so stiff.

No, don’t move.  You have to take it easy. Rome wasn’t built in a day.

He grunted as he tried to sit up.  She looked at him trying with all his might.

Okay, if you insist, I will help, but you must rest. You have been through so much.

She lifted his body by hooking her arm under his shoulder and pulling him up slowly. He groaned as she did and she stopped moving.  This enough? 

Yes, his voice was a pain-ridden hiss.

Okay. She plumped the pillows around him, so that he was supported and he leant back into the softness with relief.

Tell me about my wife.

Oh, it’s been in all the newspapers. She looked at him to check his reaction. Sometimes, he reminded her of a coiled snake waiting to strike. Her and three others tried to kill you. They must be mad. A good looking successful man like yourself.  She busied herself around the bed, straightening the sheets and folding the bedspread. They are going to court in two months for your murder.

He grunted again, sarcastically, and she picked up on the humour of it. Yes, I know. Not many men get to see their own funeral or murder trial.

I’m buried?

Yes, we substituted your body with a homeless man in the morgue. No one had claimed him. It seemed such a pity to let him go without a funeral.  She sat on the edge of the bed and smiled gently at him.  When you are better, we will show you your grave.  He looked at her with his dark, black, emotionless eyes and for a split second she shivered. Well.  That’s a little way, away for the moment.  She stood up and smoothed down her skirt. We have to get you better first. Don’t we?  She smiled her professional nurse smile, a vacuous smile that didn’t reach her troubled eyes.

‘You said you would give us whatever we wanted."

He nodded.

Yes. He waited for her terms.

We want five million Euros.

Each?  She looked shocked for a second, and he realised in that moment that she had been talking jointly.

Well. She paused. I guess. Yes. Five million Euros each. That’s it. She was really pleased.  She had wondered if five million was too much. But he hadn’t blinked an eye when she had said it. He had actually doubled it. Her heart started beating faster at the thought of all the money. She would tell Remy, he had agreed, it was two and a half million each and she would have the rest for herself. After all, she had done the negotiation and just doubled it. Remy didn’t need to know the details. She was the one looking after him all day and night.

Matt nodded.

Agreed?

He nodded again.  She smiled brightly.

Good. It’s a pleasure doing business with you Mr. Mellor.

Matt smiled back. Neither of them would receive a penny from him.

After all, the dead don’t need money.

Chapter Two

The days and weeks had been passing nicely. Matt was up and about.  He no longer needed a stick to walk with, and his limp was going. It was becoming less each day, to the point that when he really tried hard, he had no limp at all.  Matt could walk normally for a few moments, his teeth gritted in effort, but afterwards he would sit down drenched with sweat.

He hated the woman that was looking after him with a passion. She was such an annoying drivel of a woman. She talked incessantly all day about nothing. Her words just faded into the air, wasted. She was just so vacuous and thick. He thought he would go mad if she didn’t stop talking.  She had given her job up to look after him. She had been with him twenty-four hours a day, since he had been there, four long months so far.  Every day as she sat and chatted brightly to him, Matt was planning which would be the most satisfying way to kill her.  He saw several different scenarios every day. If she had known what was in his mind, she would not have come anywhere near him.  But that’s the thing with murderers; they don’t look like murderers.  They can be the sweet guy that lives next door, or the woman that babysits your kids, whilst you work, oblivious to what she’s doing to your kids when you leave.  How she tortures them in secrecy; the kids too afraid to speak up out of fear of more torture. Yes, people like Matt were amongst us all. Hidden. Time bombs. Just waiting to explode and release themselves on to the world.  People thought they were few and far between, but that’s only because they hadn’t been caught yet.  Matt was part of the elite set; the type of murderers that go under the radar.  Matt was a keen people watcher. He had always been able to adapt to any crowd. He was a chameleon. He blended. He blended so well, that nobody knew inside his mind.

Matt read the newspaper, which had been placed on the side of the table by him. There were all sorts of articles about his wife, Ellen, about Dean, his business partner, as well as Nico and his sister Veronique. Who they were, and what had caused them to attempt to kill him.  Matt knew why. He was in no doubt why they had wanted to. He smirked at the paper and folded it, before tossing it back onto the table. They weren’t even in court and already the papers were covering the story.  They would be found guilty before they even got in front of a judge. He laughed to himself.  That would mean all the money would come back to him. His sister’s money, his wife’s money...and Dean’s – well he didn’t have any left.

Matt was feeling stronger by the day, and he was determined to be up and about before the hearing. He wanted to be there to watch them squirm under the lights, to watch and listen to the people talking about them.  He was looking forward to it, very much indeed.

By the time the court case came around, Matt had let his hair grow to below his shoulders. He had a long beard, with a moustache.  Wearing an old raincoat, he sat in the back of the courtroom, hidden amongst the other spectators. He listened to the cases brought against them.

The sun shone brightly through the high windows of the wood panelled courtroom.  Ellen sat stiffly in the dock.  By her side Dean, Veronique and Nico sat together. There was going to be the decision that would decide the rest of their lives.

The judge entered the chambers and they all stood. He sat down and peered over his half moon glasses.  The case had been long and tedious. They all had a motive. They had all confessed to wanting the man dead. They all refused to be tried separately.  It was a most unusual and unsatisfactory case, quite unprecedented.

There was a general whispering amongst the people waiting.  The lawyers approached the bench, and a heated argument ensued much to the annoyance of the judge.

Learned gentlemen, please!  Remember you are in a court of law and not a bar.

I am sorry, your honour, but The State versus The Accused cannot continue.

What? The