Fateor Me: It’s Latin for I confess.

By C.M. Gordon

Five women, Sarah, Meesha, Michelle, Anna and Pat were friends in high school. Now as adults with their own families, they are all suspects for murders that have been committed. The police are very keen to solve the different cases but which one is guilty? Each woman gives her own version of events and slowly unfolds their individual stories of what really happened. All have reasons to kill, and they are not as innocent as they appear.

• Language: English
• Publisher: AuthorHouse UK
• Release date: Nov 16, 2023
• ISBN: 9798823082273

C.M. Gordon

C.M. Gordon has been writing for about fifteen years now. It all started when she studied creative writing back in high school. She gave herself a desire to write her own book. So for a while she would practice, practice, and practice. She did so for many years until she established her writing style. What the author loves most about writing is bringing the characters to life, as if she can meet them in person. She likes having that vision; it makes reading more enjoyable. She currently lives in West London, United Kingdom and work for a company in finance. The author hopes that you enjoy reading her book.

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Published by AuthorHouse 08/17/2023

ISBN: 979-8-8230-8228-0 (sc)

ISBN: 979-8-8230-8227-3 (e)

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and such images are being used for illustrative purposes only.

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CONTENTS

Chapter 1 Sarah Watkins

Chapter 2 Michelle Lewis

Chapter 3 Pat Kelly

Chapter 4 Meesha Khan

Chapter 5 Anna Sato

Chapter 6 Sarah Watkins

Chapter 7 Anna Sato

Chapter 8 Michelle Lewis

Chapter 9 Anna Sato

Chapter 10 Sarah Watkins

Chapter 11 Pat Kelly

Chapter 12 Meesha Khan

Chapter 13 Pat Kelly

Chapter 14 Sarah Watkins

Chapter 15 Michelle Lewis

Chapter 16 Meesha Khan

Chapter 17 Sarah Watkins

Chapter 18 Pat Kelly

Chapter 19 Anna Sato

Chapter 20 Michelle Lewis

Chapter 21 Sarah Watkins

Chapter 22 Meesha Khan

Chapter 23 Sarah Watkins

Chapter 24 Anna Sato

Chapter 25 Michelle Lewis

Chapter 26 Gerry Watkins

Chapter 27 Meesha Khan

Chapter 28 Anna Sato

Chapter 29 Michelle Lewis

Chapter 30 Pat Kelly

Chapter 31 Anna Sato

Chapter 32 Gerry Watkins

Chapter 33 Michelle Lewis

Chapter 34 Meesha Khan

Chapter 35 Sarah Watkins

Chapter 36 Pat Kelly

Chapter 37 Michelle Lewis

Chapter 38 Sarah Watkins

Chapter 39 Pat Kelly

Chapter 40 Anna Sato

Chapter 41 Sarah Watkins

Chapter 42 Sarah Watkins

Chapter 43 Sarah Watkins

Chapter 44 Anna Sato

Chapter 45 Meesha Khan

Chapter 46 Sarah Watkins

Chapter 47 Anna Sato

CHAPTER 1

SARAH WATKINS

M Y HUSBAND, GERRY, AND I had an explosive argument. We’d been arguing about Jim Watkins, Gerry’s father. This argument had led us to be at Stonehill Forest, in Essex, a park where Jim would take Gerry as a child for adventure. Gerry would climb up the tall oak and beech trees. I, too, had come to this park as a child. I loved climbing trees. The time I spent with my dad was brilliant. But this time, instead of reminiscing about fond times, the conversation was tragic. We were at Stonehill Forest, and Gerry was digging a hole in the gr ound.

‘What should we tell people when we’re questioned about our last conversation with him and when?’ Gerry asked me.

‘We can figure it out later; right now we need to complete the job,’ I replied as Gerry pulled a large figure into the hole he’d just dug and began to cover it with earth.

What had started the argument was when Gerry told me about a conversation he’d had with Jim. Gerry had told Jim about a new accounting software for the company Gerry works for, at which Jim is the CEO, Jefferson Drinks Corp. He explained the new software to Jim, saying he found it more efficient, easier to use, and more cost-effective. Jim replied to him saying, ‘Do as you wish, son.’ But whilst he was using his dad’s laptop that same afternoon to send him more details for the software, he came across Jim’s will. Gerry explained that Jim had left all his money to James. I couldn’t believe my ears. I was angry and demanded that he confront Jim as soon as possible. That was what started the chain of events that brought us here to Stonehill Forest.

I did love Gerry, but sometimes I thought he was a pushover and always wanted to please his dad.

‘Your father was such a strict man, and you bent to his every command. I knew he hated me,’ I stated.

‘How do you know that?’ Gerry asked.

‘He was just cold towards me, very cold. Now I know why because of what you found out,’ I said whispering loudly.

‘You need to keep your voice down and keep a lookout,’ Gerry said.

‘He planned to disinherit us and give your brother, James, all his money. I can’t believe that,’ My eyes were filling up with tears.

‘Right. That should do it. The hole is covered. I think I’ll put the stone over it. I don’t think anyone will have any suspicions that would cause them to look underneath it,’ Gerry said, wiping the dirt off the shovel. Gerry placed a large stone over the fresh dirt with a sign that said, Toilets 50 yards.

‘Right. We can tell people my dad has gone fishing in an isolated area, and we have no way of contacting him,’ Gerry said to me. However, I wasn’t convinced the story was believable.

‘But why can’t we say he has gone to that resort in Monte Carlo?’ I asked. I couldn’t believe Gerry thought the fishing story was a good explanation.

‘Don’t you think the police would check his passport for that?’ Gerry asked.

‘Well, we could say he must have lied to us,’ I said.

‘No, Sarah. That will create a story. So he is away fishing and won’t be back for days.’

We walked the three miles back to the car. All the trees looked the same to me. Thank goodness Gerry knew the way back. We were being very careful not to be seen or heard by anyone, as it was the middle of the day, and we were about two hours away from home. We needed to get back for our children, and we needed to welcome them home from school. Our neighbour would collect them along with her children. I needed to be back for them. Their beautiful faces just melted my heart each time I see them.

We were very careful not to make any noise or be seen by anyone, but this wasn’t the end of our troubles—far from it.

Our children were of an age where they questioned everything. At nine and seven, they would have questions. And so would James, Gerry’s younger brother.

We kept very quiet until we reached the car. Then Gerry’s phone rang loudly. His eyes grew wide in shock, and he fumbled around in his pockets to grab the phone and switch it off.

‘I thought I told you to keep it on silent, Gerry. Get your head in the game. Good heavens!’

‘It’s OK. I forgot to switch it off,’ he snapped back at me.

‘If we get done for this, I’m blaming you,’ I opened the car door and slammed it shut so hard that it shook a little. I was praying that wasn’t too much noise.

‘That’s really quiet, Sar, slamming the door. What if someone hears us?’ Gerry said very sarcastically.

So, Gerry pushed the car whilst I steered it along the path. Not until we got to the road did he get in and start the car. We didn’t talk until we arrived home, in Richmond, London—a beautiful, big, three-bedroom house, which Gerry brought when our son, Nick, was born. Soon thereafter, Naomi was born, and Gerry was a very proud dad. The house had a huge hallway, where Nick and Naomi would practise walking. The hallway led to the big kitchen, with a breakfast table where we all sat and ate breakfast and dinner together. Then you came to the modest garden in the back, which now had a trampoline for Naomi. She’d begged and pleaded for it.

When Gerry would come home from work, his face would light up whenever he saw the kids playing. I could tell he loved the children. He loved his family and would do anything—literally anything—to protect them. So, when Gerry found out what Jim had done, I could tell by his face, which would go red when he was angry or embarrassed—how upset he was. This time, he was enraged. In fact, we both were. And he planned with me what to do.

I really enjoyed the prestige and the fact that I married into a rich family, I’m embarrassed to admit; I do enjoy the lifestyle.

Finally after a long two and half-hour drive home, I unlocked the door to my comfortable house. Gerry didn’t close the door yet. He said that he could see the children running up to house. About a minute later, the silence was replaced by children laughing and hugging Gerry. I got hugs and kisses too, and we went into the kitchen, and I prepared dinner for them. Gerry asked them how their day was. Then they wanted to play outside with the water hose.

Whilst they were talking, I was off to my PC and wrote an email to my friends who I met up with at my high school reunion recently:

Hi girls,

It’s Sarah again. I had so much fun at the Ryder High Reunion, and I really wanted to go to a spa in Cornwall and have drinks and have some laughs. What do you say?

Please see the link to the webpage I’ve found. It’s a good deal, so I was thinking about 20–22 March.

Let me know.

Regards

I felt better after writing this email because it was something to look forward to. Naomi ran up to me as I returned to the kitchen.

‘Mummy, where is Granddad?’ Naomi asked, her beautiful strawberry blonde hair in her face. She was such a tomboy.

‘Oh, he’s gone fishing, darling.’

‘Why?’ Naomi asked.

‘Because he likes fishing, darling.’

‘He told me he hated fishing,’ Naomi said and walked off. She was just seven years old, and she’d outed my story, just like that.

This made me very nervous. I motioned to Gerry to come back inside from playing with the children in the garden, so I could tell him what Naomi had said. ‘Come here quickly,’ I said.

Gerry slowly came back inside the kitchen. ‘What’s the matter?’ he asked, standing by the door. He was breathing heavily.

‘Close the door behind you. I don’t want the children to hear. And come here to me.’

‘I’m filthy now. Just tell me,’ Gerry said as he closed the door. He was wet from head to toe. He was like a big kid when he played with the children.

‘We have to think of another plan, Gerry,’ I said.

‘What? Why?’

‘Naomi told me Jim hates fishing. The plan won’t work,’ I said.

‘We can’t now. I’ve told James he’s gone fishing too,’ Gerry said.

‘When did you tell him that?’ I asked.

‘That was who called me on the phone, so I sent him a text.’

‘Oh that does it. I have a bad feeling about this. Wait, where’s your phone?’ I asked.

‘I think I left it in the car.’

‘Go and get it, dear.’ I was already anxious, but Gerry not picking up the small things drove me insane. I followed him outside to the car.

‘Got it,’ Gerry said, showing me the phone as if I was meant to applaud him.

There was another loud ring.

‘What’s that sound?’ I asked. ‘I can hear another phone. Where is it?’

We both looked around the car, searching for the ringing phone.

‘I think it’s in the boot,’ Gerry said. To our surprise, he found a phone, which was still ringing. We didn’t know it had been lying there all that time.

‘That’s Dad’s phone,’ Gerry said.

I grabbed the phone from his hand and answered it. ‘Hello. Mr Watkins’s office,’ I said, pretending to be Jim’s PA and I put on an Irish accent.

‘Hello. It’s Chloe King. I’m trying to find Jim. Is he there in the office?’ I recognised the voice of Jim’s fiancée. I really didn’t like her. She must have made Jim set up his will so James got everything.

‘Oh, I’m his PA, Julie. Is there something I can help you with?’ I made up a different name to keep up the charade along with a fake accent.

‘I’ve been trying to get hold of him, and I’ve not heard from him at all. Do you know what could be wrong or where he is exactly?’ Chloe asked.

‘Let me check, looking at his diary, he seems to be out fishing and will be back in two days. Is that OK, Miss?’

‘Thank you, Julie. That has settled me, but I still need to speak with him to make sure he’s OK,’ Chloe said.

‘He left this work phone at the office, so I’m using it to help those contacting him. I’ll take a message on your behalf,’ I said, hoping she would go.

‘No. It’s OK. I’ll try and call his sons about him. Thank you,’ she said.

‘Goodbye, Miss.’ I hung up the phone.

‘I think I’ve made it worse,’ I told Gerry.

This wasn’t part of the plan, and it was about to get worse.

CHAPTER 2

MICHELLE LEWIS

I WAS SITTING BY MY DRESSING table, crying, with make-up running down my ch eeks.

My husband, Kevin, was a world-famous ex-footballer and a multimillionaire. But what people didn’t know was he was very abusive with alcohol and unfaithful. In the past, I’d had to clean up after he was drunk, and if I’d caught him kissing another woman or woman is demanding money.

My adult children, Kyle and Kaia, didn’t want anything to do with me anymore. They told me they hated every minute of us as a family when they were young. At the height of Kevin’s career, I would get to be on the front pages of magazines. I would give interviews about how we got on as a family, from their first steps to when they were teenagers. They told me I courted the media for years and detailed all their private family moments on social media and celebrity magazines, whose covers I’d been on many, many times. I loved being the centre of attention; it was a real confidence booster. But they hated it. They’d told me that when they were teenagers, but I didn’t believe it; I never stopped being in front of a camera. Kyle and Kaia came to me crying, saying they hated being what they described as ‘in a goldfish bowl’. I couldn’t believe my ears. I thought they should be grateful for the privilege we’d given them. So, because of this, my children had deserted me, leaving me to my ‘friends,’ the journalists, as they said. I wasn’t apologising for this; it wasn’t my fault they felt the way they did.

As for my ‘friends’, the press coverage had slowed down over the years, with the media moving on to the next younger footballer’s wife—something I never anticipated happening to me. Every now and again, I might resort to calling the paparazzi before going to the shops or the salon to get a story in newspaper. I liked it that way. So what if it gave me a little attention and a few hundred thousand likes on Instagram? No harm done.

My mother, Dorothy, had been very hands-on with Kyle and Kaia when they were younger. They always had good things to say about her, which I thought was nice. I suspected she had contact with them still, but when I asked her for their addresses or phone numbers, she wouldn’t tell me. I’d tried many times. I guess she thought I’d tell the press and get the paparazzi to show me coming out of their houses, which I wouldn’t do; but no one would believe me.

But now, time had moved on. The kids weren’t teenagers anymore, and I had no relationship with them, thanks to Kevin, my husband. I wanted some sympathy, so I gave an interview last week about my marriage being in trouble and my children wanting nothing to do with me and how money was drying up. I got some money for that. And I gave interviews about women who were victims of domestic violence.

Now, I was packing my Louis Vuitton suitcases, so I could finally leave Kevin for good. I turned and looked at the room I shared with a man I could no longer stand. The room looked smaller somehow; it wasn’t the same room it had been when I moved in. I had my four-poster bed, my walk-in wardrobe, and my £50,000 bathroom. I gave photos of this space to the press and even posted the layout on YouTube.

I remembered how it was here, on the bedroom floor, that my son, Kyle, took his first steps in front of my floor-to-ceiling mirror. I remembered when my daughter, Kaia, used my make-up when she was seven years old. Remembering that made me smile. I closed my eyes and went back in time. I could see them now running about the room, playing and laughing. I guess there were good memories in this room, not all bad. There was a time when we were