Children of the Mask

By C. A. Mitchell

Children of the Mask: A totally addictive psychological thriller with a twist at the end to blow your mind...

Is money really the root of all evil? …

On the surface of it, Deborah was that unassuming girl next door, but on the inside, she desires to marry a rich man—a very rich man. But first, she must learn the rules of the game, and what better place to learn them than being a maid to one of those expert social climbers... But if things don't work out, how could she get money? Rob a bank, hustle, kill? Deborah didn't do any of these, she didn't need to. The opportunity arrived with the murder of a neighbour and all she had to do was take the chance and walk into Samantha's life. But what happens next, why was Samantha murdered? Will she be the next to die? When you take on someone's life, you also take on their friends and their problems, and this isn't easy even if you are a perfect image of that other person.

Who can she trust when she doesn't even trust herself? And what does her newly acquired husband think – was he the one who wanted her dead? Read this thrilling book and take a peek into the world of the mega-rich…

• Language: English
• Publisher: Rampart Books Ltd
• Release date: Sep 2, 2023
• ISBN: 9781915778666

Book preview

1

Nothing happens, then suddenly, life vomits a fast series of events running through time like wildfire. You can choose to join in or allow them to run over the top of your head. If you do, they will. But just like a thunderstorm, eventually, it passes.

Perhaps she was born with a fever to be something more, something better. However, some say that fame and recognition are born in the belly of one parent. And that parent would be her father. To be normal and content meant mediocre. Deborah wanted to be noticed, be in everyone’s face, walk along the street, and have people pointing at her and saying out loud, is that Deborah? Isn’t she the person we follow? Oh, we love you, Debbie. We think you’re beautiful, clever and amazing. We would love to be just like you.

Yes, just like me. Deborah looked at her portrait trapped in a frame. But how could it be me? Too busy looking at other people’s lives, the ones who she liked and wanted to emulate.

Yet, how do women make it to the top? Being beautiful and attractive helps, as does being clever. Being in the right place at the right time or by making things happen. Money, having a fortune, helps a great deal. But the most popular way is by sleeping your way to the top. Not something she fancied, but she might have to if she wanted what they had. Everyone who has ever made it to the top found their own way.

At twenty-two, Deborah joined a domestic agency as a maid. It was a start, but perhaps not your usual beginning. Starting anywhere is an investment for the future, and her starting place was to be just that. Not just any maid, but a maid to a woman who has become very rich. It’s a way of getting to know about these women and how they succeeded. Being there in their house and watching how they lived. Listening to how they speak, how they walk, and how they deal with situations that popped up in their lives. But most of all, how they deal with men.

This was to be her apprenticeship; she was determined to find out how these women cracked it. But it wasn’t going to be as easy for Deborah. She had come to this rich woman’s house to be around her, but the principal element of her examination wasn’t there. And she did not know when the woman would be back. The discovery of how to be wanted, desired, and rich had to be made on her own.

But exactly what was she looking for? Lovely clothes, expensive settings. People that make these people look as if they are special, but there must be something else. Something that made them stand out in the first place. You would know it if you came across it. They had to have something which no one else had. She didn’t think it was entirely down to confidence or looks. These people knew they were wanted. They were desired. It was that which was special about them. Though the key factors in getting their man were luck, drive, and being in the right place at the right time.

And this was Cleo Bolingham, and this was her world, the woman she worked for as a maid for who was undoubtedly off somewhere exotic. Although Deborah had never met her, there were enough portraits of her around the house to say that she knew her well enough. She recognized Cleo’s face better than her own. Cleo, a wealthy socialite who’d been born into this world.

It just didn’t seem fair, and it wasn’t fair. But what can be done to make it fair? She put down the picture of Cleo smiling out at the camera and showing off her expensive teeth. The life of Cleo was kept inside expensive boxes, and everything which was used and touched was thrown away.

How do these people make it to the crystal castle in the sky?

There were four houses in a circle in this small, enclosed place in Bel Air, and almost all the neighbors were away. Except for the young woman opposite. Deborah had seen her and her husband.

There were a lot of years between them, but even so, he was still handsome. It must be true love. Whatever her name was, the young woman had long, dark hair falling down her back, slim and attractive. She had to be, but it was difficult to tell from the distance between them. Does she love him? Or did she only marry him for his money? It’s hard to say. But if she were waiting for him to die, she wouldn’t have to wait too long because he must be in his late eighties. While this girl looked to be a similar age to herself.

In fact, with her dark hair nearly the same length as this woman, she could be her double—that’s if you squeezed your eyes. On a cloudy day, they could get away as being twins. This is an example of how luck works, how natural selection chooses this other woman above her, how she envied this woman. They could almost have been sisters, almost.

‘Hi,’ it was the woman opposite; she had come out to say hello. Perhaps she was as bored as her.

‘Hi,’ Deborah shielded her eyes from the sun.

‘Do you live here?’ she looked towards the house.

If she had been honest, Deborah would have told her she was the maid. But suddenly, honesty didn’t seem the best idea.

‘Yes, and you?’

‘My husband Brogan is into cigarettes, or rather, his family is. Since 1850,’ she ran her hand over her hair. ‘And what do you—are you married?’

‘Married.’ She smiled, lowering her eyes.

‘Ah, you don’t need to explain anymore,’ the pretty young wife smiled. ‘We all have to do things we don’t want—but of course, I love my husband. Without him, well, I would die. Do you want to come over for a drink? I’m all on my own. Oh—my name’s Samantha, but most people call me Sam. And yours is—’

‘Deborah.’

‘Great, a new friend. There’s nothing else much to do around here. How long have you been married?’

‘A year.’ Deborah was following Samantha into her house. ‘How long have you been married?’

‘About the same time. Isn’t it funny? You and I could be twins. We look so much alike, don’t you think?’

‘Yes,’ said Deborah. ‘We could have been.’

‘Time for a cocktail. But then again, it’s always time for a cocktail, especially when you’re bored. Do you get bored, Deborah?’

‘At times.’

‘Me too.’

‘Come outside and over to the swimming pool. I swim every morning and then lie in the sun to get my tan. I look better with a tan. But you’re very pale. You should get yourself a tan if only to give yourself something to do.’ She walked across to make the cocktails, leaving Deborah to sit on one of the loungers conveniently placed around the pool. They were positioned as if waiting for a party to start. Sitting, she watched Sam walk off to make the cocktails. As she walked, she had a distinct wiggle as if in her head she was listening to music.

‘How did you meet your husband?’ she sipped her cocktail through a pink straw.

‘Introduced. How did you meet yours?’

‘At a party. I knew he was going to be there, and so I gatecrashed. Everyone warned him I was only interested in marrying him for his money. You know, and all the usual stuff. But I told him, darling, how else was I going to get to meet you? I wanted to marry you because I was attracted to you. You should be flattered. This is proof that I love you. I put in a lot of work to get to him. You know I said all the right crap they want to hear.’

This woman was determined to live her life the way she wanted. While other people cannot live their lives because of guilt and social pressure. They condemn their freedom, and at the moment, so does Deborah. But how do you live your life to the full with only one go at it? Do it as you wish, but don’t cry about the repercussions.

Deborah envied this woman without a soul, someone who went to the ice cream parlor and brought home all the goodies without paying for them.

‘Is that the time?’ Deborah looked at her wrist. ‘I’ve got to get back; I’m expecting a phone call.’

‘Oh, the ever-faithful telephone call.’ Samantha nodded. ‘They get worried about you, don’t they? Or what you might be up to.’

Deborah smiled. ‘It was nice. Perhaps we could do it again sometime.’

‘Yes, perhaps. You know, you should do something about your wardrobe. Get him to spend out on you. It’s only right. You’re giving up your youth for him.’

Deborah looked down at her old denim jeans. They didn’t have the correct label; she wasn’t in Samantha’s league. She knew there wasn’t going to be another invitation coming from this side of the road again. Oh, how they like to stick together, keep the outsiders out. That’s the way to survive.

An impossible world to get into. By the time she was thirty, she would most likely be too old.

Two days later, the car carrying Samantha and her husband pulled away, and the silence grew louder.

Now she was the only person in this place. No sound, no music, no life. Wealth is only good if you can do something with it. Looking after this house made her feel like she was going out of her mind. There was nothing to do. It would be only for a short time that she could pretend she owned the house. She’d been dumped here as a burglar alarm, just another item of ownership. Just one more day, and then she was walking out. Surely, there must be other ways of making it to the top.

The only person she had talked to had also abandoned her. It would have been better if this blessed young woman had never been, better if Samantha had never spoken to her to stir up those feelings of envy. Better for her to be dead. Dangled there in front of her eyes to emphasize what she had got. How could they ever be friends?

But it was that look Samantha gave her, eyeing her up and calculating her worth of what Deborah could do for her. Nothing, by the looks of it. She was of no value to Samantha. That look of prejudice. Deborah wasn’t going to be one of her favored friends, and any future meeting wasn’t going to happen. Samantha was only going to be friends with her if Deborah could do something for her.

A week passed of almost insanity, waiting and waiting as her future hopes passed like sand through an hourglass. There must be another way of making it in this world. Marry someone, anyone, as long as they were rich.

The sound of a car broke into Deborah’s world as it turned into the road. Dashing to the window, Deborah rushed to the window to see where it was going. She waited with bated breath. Were there really people still alive outside of this crescent-shaped hellhole? Life had arrived, and Deborah was suddenly excited because hope had come with it.

A red Jeep Grand Cherokee drove past the house. Guesses were that someone had returned. It parked outside Brogan’s and Samantha’s house. The door opened, and Samantha climbed out. The husband and wife had returned? No, unless she had become widowed and married again. Her new husband was a young man.

‘Rob, bring in the cases, and I’ll get the door and switch off the alarm,’ her tanned body suited the short skirt she was wearing.

Rob was young and attractive, like Samantha. He walked to the trunk and opened it to take out the luggage. There were four pieces that he placed onto the sidewalk before locking the car.

So great to see people and feel life was still going on. Although now that special relationship was probably not going to happen. But it didn’t matter anymore because she had returned, and now there was someone else living nearby.

Four days passed with more interest; Deborah had been spending most of the time sitting at the window watching her neighbors play. This was her view of the young rich. Rob liked to exercise on the first landing in front of the window, lifting weights and doing push-ups while Deborah was free to admire him. It was as if he knew she was looking at him from over the other side of the road. Samantha would come and watch for a short while, leaning against the door with her hands on her hips, and then she slipped off her swimwear and waited. When he saw her naked, he dropped his weights to run after her. Deborah had to smile.

No, they didn’t care who was watching; these two were fit and attractive, and apart from Deborah, there wasn’t anyone else here to witness. Perhaps they were doing this for her benefit and their amusement? Deborah blushed at the thought, though not entirely from embarrassment, as she continued to watch. The freedom of money and youth was eluding her. While drinking her milk, she watched as they ran out of the house naked; him running after her, and when he caught her, this time Samantha didn’t move away. Open-mouthed, Deborah rolled her tongue across her lips. If it was only her.

Sexually, they were very inventive.

On a Saturday afternoon at two o’clock, when these two usually took their siesta, Deborah also laid down, mimicking them. A borrowed life was better than nothing. When roaring around the corner, a green Fiera drew to a halt, parking next to the Jeep. My goodness, Deborah took a bite of her apple, leaning towards the window. Had Samantha’s husband come home? This should be interesting. She dabbed at the juices dribbling from the corners of her mouth.

Two beeps of the horn blew out, suggesting this was another friend. A man got out who looked to be in his late thirties and went to the door. A hard knock on the wood resounded, and then the door opened. Still wrapping her sarong around her, Samantha gave a timid smile.

‘Frank, what are you doing here?’

‘I’ve come to deliver you a message. Is Rob here?’

Deborah could hear everything through the open window.

‘Yes—Rob, it’s Frank.’

Why wasn’t she inviting him in, considering he knew them both? Like a pop of air rushing past her ears, Deborah saw Samantha tumbling, quickly followed by Rob. What was the surprise message which made them fall?

In the doorway, the two lovers lay in a clumsy, macabre embrace. Frank, satisfied, walked away and got back into his car to drive off. And then the world went silent.

A blackbird in the tree carried on singing, singing like he was pleased with the world, while the sleeping couple remained. All twisted like some macabre sexual act as he lay on top of Samantha in the doorway. Why didn’t they get up? What were they doing? They couldn’t be sleeping there. Something was wrong. Very wrong. The tick, tick of her heart told Deborah that something was very wrong.

Putting her hand to her mouth, Deborah moved closer to the window, tangled by worried curiosity. No movement, and they weren’t getting up. Was this a new position in which to make love? She couldn’t hear anyone groaning or laughing. There was something so deadly quiet about these two. The shock from this encounter left Deborah confused and dazed momentarily.

Something was wrong. With her heart palpitating in her chest, Deborah went to the door. The door clicked open. No one was about—people had quit the world, leaving it from overpopulation while the sound of silence continued.

‘Samantha, are you okay?’ Deborah said shyly, moving slowly towards the two-crumpled sleeping bodies. ‘I was concerned. I saw you fall over.’

Not wanting to look, but now Deborah was compelled to. Something was very wrong with them, something which could never be healed. Now there was a scarlet ribbon trickling on the ground, the pretty color of life leaving.

‘Samantha,’ Deborah held her hand to her mouth. ‘Do you want me to call an ambulance? Are you dead?’

The slumped bodies told their stories. A hitman had earned his money. And with one more Job completed, he was going home to his wife and children. There had been a double murder in this quiet close, and she had been the only witness.

What happened in those next five seconds was a nightmare. What do you do when two young people are shot in front of you? Standing by the two bodies, Deborah looked at the road and its windows. The eyes were on her. She had been caught. Was she the murderer?

‘I didn’t do it. I didn’t. You saw for yourself what happened.’

Except for the lone blackbird still contented with its world, the silence looked on her as the sole witness.

Go back into the house and draw the curtains on the world, and pretend that nothing has happened. This was what she wanted to do, but now couldn’t. The isolation which she had been used to had abandoned her. While the desired excitement and to feel her life on the move had now taken a decisive turn, she was heading towards an unknown future, and there was no turning back. Be careful what you wish for because it never entirely turns out the way you want.

So, this is the reality. Samantha and her boyfriend had been murdered. Go—ring the police. This is what they’re paid to do. Clear up the mess, then find the murderer. Today’s happenings in this quiet and expensive suburb would be splashed all over the papers tomorrow. A very wealthy man’s wife had been assassinated along with her boyfriend. But why?

What a fool Samantha was when clearly she was everything to her husband. He obviously doted on her, loved her in the way she needed to be loved, and yet Samantha threw his love away. Now, if it had been her, she would have treated this man better. She would have cared for him and never played around. Wait until he’s dead. There would be enough time for that then.

If she had been her—No, she couldn’t do that. There must be another way.

Nothing happens, then suddenly, life vomits a fast series of events running through time like wildfire. You can choose to join in or allow them to run over the top of your head because if you do, they will; but like a thunderstorm, it will eventually pass.

These were her words. If you don’t take this chance now, you may never get another one. Take it, don’t think about it. Take it, and you can figure out what to do when the time comes. That’s if you’re serious about it? That’s if you really want to change your life. If not, go on being the maid running to everyone’s wants and whims.

In Cleo’s wardrobe were black bags covering the best of her dresses. These would do. They would be the body bags. Get the bodies off the street and do it now.

Her heart pounded in her head as she ran across to the other house. Feeling the same alarm as the blackbird yet not understanding why? The bird took flight and swept low across the road. His singing was gone, replaced by a repeated single note. Chirp, chirp, chirp. Danger.

Dead people don’t move like live ones. They don’t struggle but fall heavy. It was as if they didn’t want to budge. Still warm with life as if they would wake up any moment and say, hey, what are you doing? ‘I’m sorry,’ she kept whispering to Samantha and then Rob, grabbing hold of their arms and then their legs. ‘But I’ve got to do this. Your life for mine. You would do it yourself if were me.’ First, she had to go back to get the paper towels to mop up the blood. They weren’t being awkward leaking everywhere; they were just dead, how blood travels.

In nearly six weeks, this was the most demanding work she had done. She was terrified, but at least she felt alive. Her heart pounded violently in her chest, in her ears. Strange, but as she struggled to get them in their bags, they still looked very much alive. She smiled at Samantha’s glassy open eyes. Unexpectedly shot in the stream of living, there was no fear because they didn’t know it had happened. Did they know they were dead?

It was impossible to leave their bodies here in Samantha’s house, and she couldn’t have them here now that she was taking over Samantha’s identity. They did not belong in this house anymore. They were unwanted guests, so they had better move to the other place. That’s if she was following the plan she was creating in her head at that very moment. And how to get them to the other side? It could have been an ocean she was taking them across, and dragging the bodies across the road would take forever.

From where she was, she could see a wheelbarrow by the side of one of the sheds. She could see herself transporting these two bodies across to the other house. It all looked easy until it physically came to do it. She would leave