Getting Away With Murder: A Robert Steele detective story

By Barry Morgan

‘Getting Away With Murder’ is an intense, exciting and highly original story about how blame is attributed, revenge fervently sought, justified, planned and finally carried out. This ruthless pursuit for revenge leads to the total unravelling of a mind in the process.

This is an extremely black murder mystery, with a compelling examination of the killer’s inner thoughts. The ultimate twist is that the murder is planned with the help of the police.

After spending thirty years as a graphic designer and a technical writer, Barry turned his hand to writing short stories, before creating a crime trilogy about the detective Robert Steele. ‘Getting Away With Murder’ is the first book in the trilogy of Robert Steele detective stories.

• Language: English
• Publisher: The Conrad Press
• Release date: May 1, 2022
• ISBN: 9781839784675

Book preview

Chapter 1

Sitting beside her, watching her life slowly drain away, he felt completely helpless. Tears ran down his face as he held her hand tightly, hoping that it might prevent her from dying.

Watching her slowly die like this broke his heart.

‘This is all so wrong, so unfair. You can’t do, you can’t leave me,’ his whispered voice faltering as he finally realised he was going to lose her that night.

Such a joyless, sad environment to die in. The tiny dark room was only illuminated by a diminutive bedside lamp that just about managed to cast a tiny pool of light over her face.

A room of total all-enveloping confinement, with walls that seemed to move in, to enclose and trap him. Shadows filled every corner of the room giving it an atmosphere of overbearing, sinister gloom, and he could almost imagine something evil hiding in the darkness, waiting to leap out and snatch her from his grasp. Only the lack of bars betrayed that this wasn’t a prison, but a hospital room.

Staring up at the ceiling, looking to heaven for help, he whispered, ‘Dear God, what does it take to give me a little happiness? Please, just a little happiness, just a little more time with her. What do I have to do? What do you need from me? All I need is a miracle, just a small one.’

But his request was shattered when he looked down at her and realised her breathing had become shallow and erratic now. He almost laughed at the futility of the pathetic wish he had just made. But his thoughts became angry and resentful as he helplessly watched her struggle for breath,

A miracle? Who are you fooling?

It isn’t going to happen is it? I’m going to lose you.

They warned me you wouldn’t make it through the night.

Now it is a just a waiting game.

A tear fell onto her hand, but there was no response now, no miracle.

And he knew she would die that night.

Chapter 2

He could see nothing in the intense blackness that enveloped him. A massive weight on his chest made it hard to breathe.

A terrible notion of helplessness made him feel as if he were being pushed under water and there were huge waves crashing over him, trying to kill him.

It was akin to drowning, of desperately trying to get to a surface that wasn’t there. Get to safety.

But he had an instinctual struggle to live, and just one thought ran through his panicked brain over and over again.

Must fight. Must survive.

But as he reached out, there was nothing there, nothing but darkness. No substance, No where to go.

His mind struggled with this totally alien situation, he wasn’t just helpless, but completely overwhelmed in the darkness. He couldn’t make any sense of what was happening, he couldn’t move, it was a nightmare that he didn’t want to be part off. What was this place? How the hell did he get here?

His surroundings spun around him, a tunnel of darkness that he was drawn through, to what?

As he was moved around against his will he strained to see through the murk. See something, anything. Was there a destination in this madness? A place of safety, sanity, explanation?

But it was hopeless, just darkness, endless darkness. Round and around everything went, and he couldn’t work out if he was moving or everything else was.

But as he swirled around for what seemed hours, he thought he might have seen something. Was that a faint light? Was there a destination? A goal in this insane situation?

But it seemed an eternity before the darkness began to fade, but slowly, in the far distance, he could now definitely see a faint glimmer. There was hope his mind said, keep fighting.

The weight on his body seemed to lift and eventually the darkness began to lose its intensity. The blackness started to clear as he regained consciousness and his brain tried to focus on his surroundings. It was all a dream, a nightmare.

Utterly confused, he lay still, desperate to come terms with what was happening to him, but he couldn’t even conceive of where there hell he was.

Trying to speak, he found it was impossible, he couldn’t make a sound. Couldn’t even move his lips. His brain could only try and make sense of his situation. Hopeless.

Where am I? How did I end up here?

Why can’t I remember what happened?

Christ, I’m so weak. So helpless.

God, the pain. My head!

What have I done? Why does it hurt so much?

Can’t move at all. Why can’t I move?

Can’t speak. Need to shout for help.

My arm hurts. Is there a tube in my arm?

Am I in hospital?

Am I sick, ill? Dying?

Drugged? Kidnapped? Dead? Heaven or Hell?

His mind was in utter turmoil, there were too many images, too many jumbled thoughts swimming around his head, and he couldn’t make sense of any of it.

The intense pain forced him to close his eyes and the clouds of blackness instantly enveloped him again, pitching him into a dark hell of confusion.

A darkness that totally obliterated his senses. He had to let go, as there was no option but to let the darkness take over his body, plunging him back into the black void.

Back into his private hell.

Chapter 3

Slowly the world filtered back into his head, but there was panic in his brain, confusion, he could hear people whispering, he could hear voices, or at least he thought he could.

Who were they? Were they talking about him? He had no idea where he was and he desperately tried to open his eyes to find out, to get a clue into this nightmare. But his eyes refused to open and he had no strength to force them. He stayed in a semi-unconscious state with his brain trying to come to terms with his predicament. His head was swimming and he was unable to make any sense of what was real, or if it was all some corrupt dream.

It didn’t really matter, he couldn’t do anything about it. The blackness swept over him again. It was a long time before he started to regain any real semblance of consciousness.

Still powerless to move he was determined to at least see his surroundings if he could. Straining to open his eyes, he realised this was not a clever idea as the room spun sickenly as a result.

The floor and walls seemed to have a life of their own, moving in a totally unreal fashion. Quickly, he closed his eyes again, the darkness felt safe and it at least it stayed still. He welcomed the black void this time.

Eventually when he was able to open them again, his eyes still couldn’t focus properly, everything was a blur, the room seemed to swim in front of him. Only dimly could he make out the lights overhead, harsh industrial strip lights. Slowly he began to realise he was in bed, but he had no idea why.

Am I ill? This feels like a hospital. Hospital?

Trying to focus, his memory franticly trying to the piece together what had happened. Finally, he remembered visiting a hospital.

Visiting. Hospital. That’s right, visiting.

Visiting? Visiting who? I wasn’t the patient. I was visiting someone. I shouldn’t be in bed, this is all wrong.

Why am I in hospital? Who was I visiting?

God! I remember I was visiting Anne. I was with Anne.

Anne? I was visiting, just visiting Anne.

Why was I visiting? Was she ill? What happened to Anne?

Can’t remember anything. It doesn’t make any sense.

Now totally confused, he was unable to get his thoughts in order. Nothing made sense. He knew this was all wrong.

Why am I in bed? Anne is the patient.

Laying there, with thoughts and questions whirling around in his brain, he just felt sick. Then his memory clicked into place and the awful realisation of what had gone before, became a stark reality.

Oh my God, she’s dead.

My Anne is dead. And I watched her die.

That terrible realisation struck him like a hammer blow.

Powerless, he lay there his strength gone, his energy totally sapped, his brain unable to accept the reality of the situation.

Waves of nausea swept over him and he struggled not to vomit. Painfully rolling onto his side, he lay there helpless, gasping for breath, his eyes fighting to stay open.

Need help. This can’t be true. Can’t cope with this.

Is this shock?

Am I reacting to her death?

Am I ill?

What have they done to me?

As much as he struggled, his body couldn’t resist the sedative that had been pumped into him through the tap in his arm.

His eyes closed again, and he plunged back into the darkness, his thoughts plummeting into a world of angry memories and confused images, his brain scrambling to get them into some sort of order. But he would be lost in his own private hell for hours yet. He was sedated, powerless, and unable to unravel what had happened to him.

Chapter 4

Slowly, as the drugs gradually lost their effect, the darkness receded, and his subconscious started to take command once more. Random memories flooded back, images, so many images.

His brain was still trying make sense of it all, to get everything into some sort of order. Memories, snapshots, just disjointed pictures swept in and out of his head.

Slowly one image kept reoccurring, a building. The hospital, he kept seeing the hospital. The ward, the nurses, then Anne.

She was a patient at the hospital.

I’m not supposed to be in hospital. Why am I here?

I’d been at Anne’s side for days.

Seen her die that night. Walked out into the night. Rain.

This doesn’t make sense. What happened then?

Suddenly there was a huge flash of colour behind his eyes and he reeled at the pain. His head throbbed horribly.

Reaching up he found it was bandaged, he was utterly and totally mystified as to what had happened.

Still feeling sick, he lay still to alleviate the feeling of nausea that swept over him in ever increasingly painful waves.

Can’t make any sense of this. What the hell happened to me?

As he lay there, his brain started to piece together the sparse details of the broken jigsaw he was trying to cope with.

I remember Anne’s death now.

I was in despair, I remember that.

Leaving the hospital?

There was so much rain.

But nothing else. It was all a blank.

All he could remember was that Anne was dead.

Where was she now?

Need to find out what happened.

Need help.

Struggling against the sheets that had been tucked so tightly around him, he tried to get up. But he felt so weak his legs were like rubber, they couldn’t support him and he fell back onto the bed.

As he lay there, helplessly flapping about like some tiny child, he managed a strangled groan that attracted the attention of a nurse who hurried over to help him.

She held him in place, stopping him from rising. She wagged her finger at him as if he were some sort of naughty child.

‘Ah, so you have finally come to Mr Stone. Thought we’d lost you last night when you came in.’

Totally confused, he was mystified at her comment.

Seeing the puzzled look, she started again, ‘Last night? Don’t you remember anything? The police found you outside, collapsed. You’d had a heart attack or a stroke. Don’t know which yet, we’re doing the tests to see what happened. Good job you were so close, don’t think you would have made it otherwise.’

Stone just looked confused, he had no idea what had happened to him after Anne had died. He struggled to speak properly.

‘Can’t remember, just can’t remember anything.’

The nurse offered him a drink, taking it, his thoughts turned to his dilemma.

What the hell was I doing last night?

Think man.

What can you remember?

Anything?

Anne dying, I remember that!

Rain, I remember the rain.

Walking in the rain.

The feeling of being lost, nowhere to go.

Nothing but blackness after that.

Must have collapsed after Anne’s death.

I remember the anger.

So bloody angry with all of them.

Why was there no help, no one to prevent Anne dying.

Bastards.

Bastards all of them.

He knew they were to blame, but his feelings were in complete confusion and he glowered at the nurse in bewildered anger.

‘It wasn’t luck I was here, I was visiting my wife.’

The nurse took the glass from him and bent down to examine his chart ‘And how is she doing? Which ward is she in? We can contact her and let her know what’s happened.’

‘Not without a medium. She died last night,’ was all he could think of saying rudely. Pausing for a few seconds, he felt the anger and confusion rising in him again, ‘You killed her yesterday,’ he shouted at her.

‘Oh,’ was all the startled nurse could reply. ‘I didn’t know, I’m sorry, I’ll get the registrar to come and see you, and you can tell them what happened. I need to get your paperwork in order. Get some rest, go back to sleep. You are confused, upset. You need to come to terms with what happened and then we can get to the bottom of this.’

She put him back in the bed, and stood back smiling, that patronising smile figures of authority always seem to use when they have the upper hand.

‘You are going to have a sore head for sure. That was some bang you took last night.’ She smoothed the dressing on his head, and turned to walk briskly away to the desk, not quite at a run, just fast enough to get away from this awkward patient. She only paused to briefly talk to the duty nurse as she left.

Laying back in bed exhausted, his thoughts focused on just one thing.

Find Anne.

Take her home.

Have to get out of this place.

Get away now. Go home.

Can’t let them kill me as well.

They killed Anne.

What had they done to my beloved wife?

Where was she?

What the hell had happened last night?

Have to find out. Have to get out of here.

But I can’t even move properly.

So tired. Never be able to escape.

Have to try, make sure she can’t see me.

As soon as the nurse was out of sight, he struggled out of bed again, and stood shakily on the floor, dressed in a stupid blue hospital gown, his naked arse poking out at the back.

Trying to walk, but his legs gave way he felt himself keel over almost immediately. Luckily he was grabbed by the ward orderly before he fell. He had been watching the angry exchange with interest for the past couple of minutes.

‘Bloody idiot,’ was shouted into Stone’s ear as he collapsed. ‘What do you think you are doing? This is the emergency ward. You’re in here for a reason! Stay still! You are still sedated. You won’t be able to stand or get up.’

Unceremoniously dumped back on the bed, Stone could offer little resistance as the sheets were pulled around him again, pinning him in to the bed. Within minutes he had an audience of nurses, and eventually a doctor.

‘Afraid it will be a while before you’ll be up and running Mr Stone,’ the doctor said. ‘You will be here for a day at least. You collapsed, most likely a minor stroke, we’re checking you out now, you were in a pretty poor state when you were brought in last night. Can you tell me anything about what happened?’

Realising he couldn’t get away, and he was way too weak to fight, he started to talk, but stopped after a few minutes, when he became too upset to speak.

‘OK. We need to get all this sorted properly. I’ll get someone to come and talk to you, you’re not just ill, but very upset and confused.’ The doctor paused for a second, ‘You need rest. A lot of it. Can we contact anyone for you?’

Stone just shook his head, ‘No there isn’t anyone now. No one who cares, no one to contact. Go away, I want to sleep.’

Rolling over away from the crowd, he did his best to ignore them, his mind in turmoil. Hide from them. Hide the tears. Get my strength back. Find Anne. Take her home. Away from This evil place.

His eyes closed, and he soon fell into a fitful sleep. It was over an hour before someone woke him by noisily pulling up a metal hospital chair and sitting by his side. She was a young mousey official, the sort of non-entity with an insincere half smile, equipped with the ubiquitous clipboard, so she could take copious pointless notes, who nodded all the time and repeatedly said she would sort everything, get everything organised for him, set the ball rolling. A flak catcher.

When all the questions had been answered, he shooed her away, and she left with a non-committal comment that she would come back as soon as she had some information from his wife’s ward.

He just lay back and waited.

Needless to say, she didn’t come back for hours, and then the sad little official who sat at his bedside with the same stupid clipboard admitted, ‘OK we know about your wife. She died yesterday and I’m sorry to say she is in the morgue here. She’ll stay here until the funeral is arranged. That will be down to you I suppose?’

Then there was a look of concern on his face, but before he could give a response, she stated, ‘You however, are a different matter, anyone we can contact? To take care of you?’

Stone looked at her in amazement and anger.

Waiting for a response, forms in hand, the official certainly wasn’t prepared for any resistance from a sick patient.

All Stone could do was violently shake his head, ‘No!’ he shouted at her. ‘No! No! No one, I need to go home. Get away from here. Take my wife home. Now.’

Desperately upset at his impotence, he became angry, franticly, thrashing about in the bed, hopelessly pulling at the tight sheets, growing more annoyed by the second.

‘I’m not staying here! Just get my clothes, I need to go home, take my wife, get out of here. You killed her, you’re not going to do the same to me,’ he screamed at the bewildered official.

Struggling out of the bed, he didn’t get to attack her as he so wanted, his feeble punch missing by a mile as he was grabbed by the staff.

Fighting with all the strength he could muster, he struggled hard to free himself. But several nurses held onto him to make sure he didn’t escape.

An alarm went off in the background, and a doctor came in at a run a few moments later. He lent over Stone, pinning him to the bed.

‘You’re not going anywhere mister, ‘I’m going to sedate you and you are going to get some rest, whether you like it or not. Can’t have you disturbing everyone now, can we?’ he grinned as he looked down at Stone.

With that, a needle was slid into the tap already taped to the back of his hand, and he immediately began to feel weak. Slowly their grip relaxed and he felt himself slipping away.

Floating. So weak.

The room was closing in on him. It was like looking down a tunnel. The walls closed in on him.

No strength. So tired.

He was sliding back into the darkness.

Falling into a deep black hole.

To tired, can’t struggle against it.

And the darkness claimed him yet again.

Chapter 5

The induced sleep lasted for hours, but he wasn’t rested, his confused thoughts turning over and over in his head. His brain strained to look back to earlier events, trying to make sense of anything, scrambling for memories, something that would explain what had happened.

Images began to form, but they were so vague. Anne, he could see Anne now. Everything revolved around Anne.

Anne in the hospital.

What had happened to Anne?

His brain searched for more images, for answers, but it wasn’t easy as the black clouds rolled in and out to obscure his thoughts and destroy what he was trying to concentrate on.

There was that tiny room.

So dark in there.

I can see her bed.

She isn’t moving.

She is near the end.

Struggling for breath.

So hot in there.

Can’t breathe.

The images eventually became sharper, and he remembered how grossly overheated the room was, with the door firmly closed to give her some privacy during those last hours.

The air in the room was stifling.

It failed to move at all.

It felt thick and heavy, almost impossible to breathe in.

Her hand.

Yes, I can remember holding her hand.

Touching the ring.

Feeling totally crushed. Not being able to talk to her.,

Not that I could think of anything to say at the end.

His vision changed, and he moved away from the bed, almost as if he were a spectator, an observer watching the scene unfold. He could see himself sitting by her bed.

He could recall tenderly running his fingers over the wedding band he had given her nearly a quarter of a century before.

A token of his love, and thinking it would soon be all that was left from that day. A ring that brought back memories of their marriage ceremony, and those fateful words that struck deep into his heart that night.

‘Till death us do part.’

Didn’t think it would ever happen.

Such a fool, thought life would go on for ever.

Just words, till death us do part, something I said without really thinking about them.

But reality had finally caught up with him.

And now they really meant something.

He watched himself look down at her fingers that were laying in his palm. Realising there was no reaction from those long beautiful fingers now.

They were limp in his hand. No life in them, no feeling.

He watched himself weep as he realised she didn’t respond to his touch anymore.

She was beyond his reach. Beyond his help now.

She was drifting away. Soon to be gone forever.

It was like watching an out of body experience, he could see himself as if he were another person, but he knew he was really at her side.

Over the previous few days when he visited, he remembered thinking she seemed to grow smaller, almost as if she was evaporating before his eyes, fading, disappearing little by little every hour.

She was now so frail, so pale.

It took a long time to finally realised he was watching her die.

Observing every motion of her slow, protracted painful death.

Every little movement noted and remembered.

Watching her breathing grow progressively more laboured during the evening, he finally realised she must have stopped moving about some hours before without him noticing.

So still now, just laying in the bed. She didn’t look real.

The automatic gesture of her breathing was the only thing proving there was still a small spark of life left in that frail body.

A tiny spark that would finally be extinguished that night.

It was almost voyeuristic as he watched from afar, watching himself bend forward to kiss her forehead gently, he just wanted her to know that he still loved her.

Listening carefully he could just about hear those final last words. Fascinated he watched himself as he spoke,

‘Can you hear me? You know I still love you. I’ll always love you.’ He choked up and barely managed to continue, ‘I hope you know that. I’d hate you to think I didn’t care for you, even now’

That thought brought a faint smile to his face, but it was a smile fringed with immense sadness and the tears formed again.

He could clearly remember thinking.

Keep fighting, stay alive, keep going Anne.

Please.

I know there is still some hope, and you might pull through even now.

Don’t give up.

Please.

Watching as he held her hand, he saw himself raise it to his lips for a last kiss as he knew she was clinging to the very last vestiges of life.

The tears that ran down his face made him look so sad.

The realisation that he knew at that point he was going to lose the most precious thing in his life, and he could so clearly remember those last thoughts. He felt destroyed at the inevitable outcome, something he could do nothing about. Those thoughts so clear now, rattled round in his head

Stay with me. Even if it is for just a few more hours.

I can’t bear to lose you now.

But it was not to be.

Chapter 6

It was impossible to remember anything beyond that. Emotion overcame him and the blackness returned. The trauma of the events had proved too much and he sank back into a coma, his body unable to resist the drugs.

There were those same muffled whispers he could hear in the background. They must have been medical staff checking on him, monitoring his progress, ensuring he remained in bed and didn’t cause any further problems.

But they need not have worried, his body was helpless against the drugs, only his brain was active. But it was akin to an out of control machine, something that seemed to be operating independently from his body. It almost appeared to have its own agenda.

It was trying to bring the thoughts of the hospital room back into focus, trying to find the images that had so upset and overwhelmed him. Unbeknown to him he was trying to find an answer to what had happened in that hospital room. How she had died, how he had reacted, and what had caused his accident to bring him back to that hated hospital.

But his memory couldn’t.

There was nothing but a protective blankness caused by his inability to deal with her death.

Every now and then his memory would find an image, only for it to be lost as he tried to fit it into the sequence of events that had led to his hospital admission.

Images floated in and out of his thoughts and eventually his subconscious latched on to an image. It was the hospital room again. He was watching from afar once more, but slowly he was drawn into the room until he was sitting at her side. He could feel the palatable sadness, it was overwhelming.

What was doing?

He was holding her hand again.

He recalled desperately wanting to talk to her, but he couldn’t find the words this time, he choked up and lapsed into silence.

It was a silence that was utterly deafening, so intense it made his ears ring. His thoughts seemed filled with white noise that obliterated rational reason.

To make matters worse, as he concentrated on how to communicate with Anne, he slowly became aware that there was a noise that pervaded every corner of the room. One he hadn’t noticed before. A tiny almost inaudible sound. The minute, soft, mechanical click of the clock facing him on the anaemic green wall opposite.

Click, just counting down, it said.

Click.

Any second now.

Click.

Not long.

A bloody clock.

Click.

It seemed to be mocking him in that final countdown to her death.

Click.

It became an invasive sound he couldn’t avoid, and in the end, he couldn’t hear anything else. It drove him mad, distracted him from what he was doing. He looked up and shouted at it.

‘Shut up! Shut the fuck up! You don’t need to rub it in. I know her time is short. You don’t have to remind me all the time. Shut up!’

But all he heard was, click, click, click, and he sat down again and buried his head in his hands at the futility of his actions.

Frustrated with everything, he wanted to lash out at everyone and everything. The room, the clock, the hospital, even himself. His frustration growing into anger at his failure to save his wife.

The room became more and more suffocating, the heat unbearable. His head throbbed, he felt sick and he could feel his heart pounding in his chest. He felt unwell, lightheaded and he now feared he would pass out as the room started to swim before his eyes, the walls closing in on him.

Air, must have some air.

Have to open the door.

Cool down.

Breathe again.

Standing in the doorway he listened to sounds from the ward drifting in, eventually overpowering the incessant sound of the clock. Sounds from people shuffling around, trying not to disturb. Tiny, soft sounds. Sounds of the night.

Not much, but it was something to prove he wasn’t alone.

There was life out there after all. But there was no one in sight, he listened intently. Distant sounds, secretive noises.

Tiny noises. Sounds of movement, people on rounds.

Listen for them, ignore the clock.

It will help me keep awake.

Have to stay awake.

So bloody tired.

Can’t think.

But I can’t sleep, not now.

Not so near to the end.

Have to be here at the end.

It’s all I can do for her now.

Finding a chair, he collapsed into it, closing his eyes for a moment, but fatigue overtook him and he drifted off in a fitful sleep, dreaming of their time together.

After a few moments his head fell onto his chest waking him with a start, he gathered his thoughts as realised he had fallen asleep. Looking at her face he started to remember and relive their past together. It was like looking at a private photo album.

I had such a wonderful time with you.

You saved me, picked me up after I had such a bloody awful time with my first wife.

I thought everything had ended then.

My marriage finished. Losing my children, my house, my job, my money.

But then I met you.

You completed my life, made it worth living again, but now I’m going to lose you as well.

That is so unfair, so cruel.

To find someone so perfect, and then to have you snatched away.

That thought hit him hard.

The reality of his situation hurt far too much, and he hung his head knowing their time together was going to be counted in hours now.

But the drugs took hold once more, it was all too much, and his brain failed to function. He succumbed to the peace and safety of the darkness once more.

Chapter 7

In his coma, his thoughts went deeper, even further back in time now.