Confession - I'll finish it one day

Come here boy. Come on, come and listen to your old grandad.  Pull up a chair. That’s it. I don’t have long left and… What? No, you know it’s true as well as I do now hush up. 1

Like I said, I don’t have long left, and so I think it’s important that I tell you something. This was always something I’d assumed I’d take to the grave with me, and I suppose I’ve come pretty close. But there can be no harm in telling you now, they’re not about to move me anywhere, I’d be dead long before they got me near the courthouse. I’ve got a few hours left, and I’m going to spend them here with you.2

Now you hush that blubbing now. You ain’t the one dying, so you can button it. I’m not having this kind of crap keep interrupting my story, and you better believe that. 3

Well where to start? Well I suppose that the beginning wouldn’t be bad, but I don’t like the beginning where it is. I think it works much better about halfway through. So I’ll begin in the middle, and just work both ways as and when the story needs it. So we’ll start with what you know, and the police know, but could never prove, then we’ll move onto what you and they don’t.4

Twenty years ago, I killed your grandmother. 5

Oh stop that. You know it full well, so just give up the fake shock. How old would she have been then? Ooh, let’s see, you were four when she died, and Kirsty had you when she was twenty-one. Joan had Kirsty when she was twenty-six, so that’d make her 45. What’s that? Oh yes, forty-seven, my mistake. I killed Joan, my wife, Kirsty’s mother, and your Grandmother, when she was forty seven, twenty years ago. Now I’m sixty-nine, and dying of a cancer they can’t cure. I’m going to end a happy life, after a good innings, in a fairly painless manner. Doesn’t seem that I’ve been punished at all does it? I can see from your face that you don’t think my punishment has been adequate for the crime. Who knows? It may not have been after all. But before you jump to any conclusions, just hear me out. I’ve always done good by you haven’t I? Ever since Tony died, I’ve brought you up like you were my own. So the least you can do is just listen to what I have to say.6

What’s that you say? How? Look now, you’ve gotta let me tell the story my way, and at my pace. You missed the most important question anyway. The important thing is not the “How?” or the “Where?” or even the one I’ve answered, the “When?” Oh no. The important question to ask, is always “Why?” Motive son, that is the key word in crime. So many investigations break down for lack of motive. Mine was one of them, you can be sure of that. The police just knew I killed her, but they couldn’t find any proof. Or even a motive. In the end the coroner recorded a verdict of suicide, and we all got on with our lives.7

Oh no doubt if the whole thing had been conducted today then there would have been a lot more scientific evidence produced, and they’d probably prove that I did it. But back then, they couldn’t prove a thing.8

If they’d had a motive, then they’d probably have been able to bring me in. I’d have caved in under the pressure. I know myself quite well, and interrogation would have beaten me. But they couldn’t see a motive, and without that they had no basis to bring me in. All they had was a gut instinct, which they can’t act upon.9

What’s that? Oh they knew all right, how could they not know? How’d they know? Because for some reason, I didn’t seem awfully devastated. I wasn’t showing any grief. I still don’t. I don’t regret what I did son, and I’d do it again just as easy as that. I think it’s important you know that. I do not regret, and have never, even for one second, regretted killing your grandmother.10

Now you know I’ve always been one to face up to my actions, and whatever punishment the powers that be decide for me. So I suppose you’ll want to know why I never confessed anyway. But we’re getting ahead of ourselves, I should really tackle my motive first.11

I don’t know you’ll remember him, but let’s just see shall we? There’s this old family friend, or rather there was an old family friend, name was Alexander. Joshua Alexander, he was a hot shot banker, real high flyer, y’know? His family had been friends with ours a good few years, but I never liked him. Arrogant little prick, thought his shit smelt sweeter than ours. But because our families were friends his did financial work for us on the cheap, so I could never really complain. But still, I never really liked him. Joan was totally besotted with him though, I’m ashamed to say. Oh she still loved me, no doubt about it, but this lad had a kind of none-too-subtle charm that just went and swept her right away from me. He must have been, ooh, ten, maybe fifteen years her junior, but his sickly charm was so effective that any woman would be putty in his hands. I still feel furious anger cramps just thinking about him, though come to think of it that may just be the cancer.12

Well anyways, as you may have guessed, he seduced Joan. Course she went to great lengths to hide it from me, which in the end was how I got away with it.