The Black Widow Versus Stephen Arrows

♦ Here is a story I made up for my friends who claim to like my writing. I asked them things they wanted included. Stephen wanted a character who was good, fascinated by the moon or starry nights. He wanted tiger, Beijing and arrows to be mentioned. Laura wanted to be a baddie (sorry - but you brought it upon yourself!) who is a secret Take That fan, who loves gardening and like cooking and has a strong Scottish accent. She also picked comedy crime. So I know its silly but I hope to make my mates smile, even for a second ♦

Stephen Arrows glanced at the fat full moon and knew it was a good sign. He ignored the hard plastic chair and perched on the edge of the interview table and drew a cigarette to his mouth, he did this mainly because he had seen it in movies and it looked cool. Then he remembered that it could be seen as intimidating his suspect so he sat on the plastic chair which was hard and also cold. Then he remembered that it’s illegal to smoke inside a building and would have to caution or even fine himself. He tried to look dignified as he put the now moist tipped fag back in its packet. He made a mental note to quit tomorrow, quitting for him was easy, he had done it many times before. None of this mattered as the suspect, Laura, hadn’t taken any notice. She was all in black with a widow’s veil to hide her free flowing tears. Stephen Arrows knew those tears would shine like stars in her cold dark eyes, for he reasoned crocodile tears always sparkled the most, like brilliant diamonds on a black velvet cloth. He had watched her every move for months and thought she put on a marvellous show. He knew her inside out, the route of her morning walk, her smile when she tended her roses, the joy in her eyes when she was trying out a new recipe, the secret leanings towards the music of Take That, the fact she put on a different accent to sound posh because she thought it complimented her marital wealth, and the fact she had killed her two husbands.


Stephen Arrows hated being called Stephen Arrows, his nickname; it was borne out of one that should have stuck. He had great respect for the tiger, for he was ginger like it, and he loved its bulk and power which for many years he had unsuccessfully tried to emulate himself. Maybe it’s because he was a vegetarian. He was a keen runner and believed himself to be as fast as a tiger, like lightning. Needless to say, on his first day as an officer when he introduced himself he told the white lie that his friends have always called him tiger. He informed his fellow officers of the simple reason for this ‘tiger comes from the Greek “tigris” which is possibly derived from a Persian source meaning arrows which is a reference to a tigers speed.’ The officers were not impressed with this long winded and quite frankly desperate and somewhat boring story so the nickname Stephen Arrows stuck instead.


Laura waited patiently for Stephen Arrows’ internal monologue to stop. She dabbed her eyes as she tried to calm herself. He now seemed prepared and the questing began. It took her back. Back to her first marriage. Back to her lovely Duncan. She fell for him completely the moment her eyes locked on his. His inexhaustible wealth had of course nothing to do with it. ‘He brought me pink roses on our first date, daises on our second and lilies on our third. Did you know Mr Arrows that cats should be kept away from lilies? Fluffy rubbed against them, got the pollen all in her fur, settled down on the windowsill basking in the sun, she licked herself clean. That pollen killed her. He brought me a new kitten with a bow around his neck. I loved that cat. On our fifth date I cooked, I forget what it was, but it had a peanut based sauce. It was then that we found out he was allergic to peanuts. We spent that night in the emergency room. Six months later we had a dream wedding in the Scottish countryside. We had a candlelit reception, which set fire to the best man’s speech. Love isn’t easy. There are bumps in the road. I loved him dearly. It was only when he was murdered, that I found he was doing the cook. For months after I couldn’t sleep when I thought of what he must have suffered with that turkey baster. Then that cold hearted bitch strangled him because he wouldn’t leave me, his loving wife. I am glad she is rotting in that cell for what she did to my poor Duncan’.


‘His betrayal I admit made it easier to move on. I was blessed when after a few short months I met my lovely Malcolm. Heaven had sent me an angel. Needless to say we didn’t have a cook. I made him breakfast in bed every morning. I always brought it with a yellow rose from the garden when they were in bloom. On our anniversary he took me to see Take That in concert. I sing their songs and think of him and our special love. But please don’t let that make it in the papers, that’s our little secret! I don’t know what triggered the gardener to kill my dear Malcolm, he had cut his wages but he had cut all the staff’s due to business troubles. I still shiver to think where that hose went and to be strangled with the rest of it is unthinkable.'

Stephen Arrows couldn’t really prove a thing. He knew it, it was a gut instinct. He thought she would crack under pressure, but that wasn’t the way things were done anymore, good cop bad cop. Besides Stephen Arrows was good cop through and through. He would make her crack. He knew the tale of Lady Macbeth and the blood stained hands, he knew the Tell Tale Heart it was the manner of the guy that convinced the police until the beating of the heart was all he heard which forced a confession. Time was all what was needed. Rome was not built in a day. This is an Italian proverb, not a Chinese one which is what Stephen Arrows has been trying to memorise for months now with his handy pocket book but could never remember them when the time called. He made a mental note to visit Beijing to learn from the Chinese themselves. He could get a master like a warrior master and maybe learn about star constellations as well. Inner monologue finished he questioned Laura again, this time putting forth the true events.


‘I put it to you that Duncan never slept with the cook. For I have it here in black and white that the cook was close to retiring age and had chronic arthritis, hardly a little sexpot nor a little minx. Although she was little. I put it to you that you liked Take That before Malcolm. That you exhausted Duncan’s wealth on shoes, holidays and Take That concerts, Take That stalking and Take That merchandise. You would receive much needed funds from his life insurance policy so you strangled him, framed the arthritic cook and had fun with the turkey baster. I bet you were so angry your Scottish accent came out. I bet you screamed at him “ach, stickit yer get, gie you sich a kickin’!” You cried, you played the widow. You were lucky and got away with it. Malcolm comes along, just when the money is drying up. You took a chance. Duncan had diddled, use air quotes, the cook you had an excuse to move on. You got in at the wrong time, his business was going down. During an intimate evening, involving a hosepipe, you took it upon yourself to strangle him with the rest of it and blame the gardener Rick who you know has six children to support and therefore committing the perfect crime.’ It turns out Rome was built in a day, or at least Beijing. Laura twitched. It was like watching The Hulk transform, she grew in size, but instead of turning green she grew redder and redder until she roared.


‘Whut ye talkin’ aboot? ach, stickit yer get, gie you sich a kickin’!’