He had only recently moved into the property.
His family, his wife and two children would follow. They would move from the rented house in a couple of weeks, partly to allow the already paid up rental to run out, and partly to allow him to do a bit of fixing up. There was a fair bit to do and thankfully his boss was accommodating about shifting his holiday period. They had seen the house listed and knowing what a bargain it was they moved quickly to snap it up. The agency said that the previous owner had to go abroad in a hurry and he wanted a quick sale.
He set to with a number of noted tasks, some of which could be carried out during the evening. He very soon realised that this period of being completely alone was not to his liking, he enjoyed company. He made up for this by watching the television he’d had the presence of mind to bring. At the old place he’d become reliant on the playing back recordings made of his favourite shows. Here, it was live TV or nothing. He was following the major news story of the politician who had been gunned down as he got out of his car to attend a charity event. The papers and media channels were full of it. It was a very brazen attack. The story had gone ballistic, mainly driven by the shock factor.
At the end of the first week, he had made good progress. He had a list of things they had agreed that he should do, in order to make the place more habitable. His biggest job was in the kitchen. After ripping out the cupboards he had purchased new ones and was in the process of fitting them. However, his headway was being slowed by the doors refusing to align the way the manufacturers of the DIY flat packs said they would. The diagrams were of little help. After struggling with the problem for an hour or two, he decided to stop for a cuppa and check the mail.
That’s when he found it, in the mail box. No stamp, obviously hand-delivered, and definitely overnight. Whatever it was, it was wrapped in heavy brown paper and bound very thoroughly with clear sticky taped. Beneath the tape in one corner there was a small white slip of paper with the words ‘Make it disappear’. The thing was the size of a small loaf and very heavy.
Back in the kitchen he squeezed the package all over, trying to determine what it held. It didn’t take him very long to come to the conclusion, especially after staring again at the little label, that it contained a gun. Suddenly, he was aware that he was putting his fingerprints all over it. He sat with it for a long time.
He thought about the inevitable involvement; the police interview, the notoriety, all those things that would unavoidably disrupt his otherwise comfortable life. A life that currently was rather demanding. Whoever had posted the package, along with the person who had made a hurried exit from the country, along with others no doubt, would at this time all be striving for anonymity. Therefore, further to the scrutiny of the police, there may well be a criminal element now taking an interest in him and what he was doing. Sooner or later, this latter group of undesirables would be watching and waiting… waiting for nothing to happen. Knowing what these people are, they would not show themselves unless they had to.
At around two in the morning he drove into town and parked in the empty carpark behind the butcher’s shop. He took the short walk to the middle of the bridge and paused. Gazing down as if he were admiring the sheer breadth and depth of the glistening river, made barely visible by the few street lamps still glowing. The small parcel came out from beneath his jacket and leaning forward, he let it go. Hearing the finality of the distant splash, he relaxed and strolled back to his car.
On the way home he considered the fact that he would have to come to terms with notion that he was most probably complicit in a news-breaking crime that currently featured in every newspaper around the country.
He was doing the very thing that that the criminals were doing; going for anonymity. At least, in his case, and unlike the villains, he had a clear way forward.
He would go home and make those final, important adjustments to the hinges on his cupboard doors.