Danny: Part Twenty-Seven

This is the twenty-seventh part of a fiction serial, in 783 words.

Some opportunist criminals found McCarthy’s body just after dark. They were trying to break into the remote garages, and no doubt were delighted to find the door unlocked. Less delighted by what greeted them inside, they made an anonymous call to the police then ran away.

Just as I had hoped, suicide by carbon monoxide poisoning was immediately believed to be the cause of death. Even with no suicide note, it looked completely non-suspicious, and a quick check on his background soon revealed the allegations in his former job, and his hurried departure to our town. It got a brief mention on the local news that Monday evening, and that was that.

Unusally, there was no special assembly in school, and his unexpected departure was never mentioned.

What followed for me was a period of contentment and reflection. I reflected on the fact that I was connected to every death in some way, however tenuous. If someone ever investigated them as a whole, I would end up being the main suspect. But I wasn’t worried, as I felt secure in the knowledge that there was no evidence whatsoever. They would never get enough to charge me for any of the killings, let alone all of them.

My little sister had suffocated on a toy that was too big for her cot.
Paul Carpenter had drowned on a solo swimming trip in a dangerous place.
Sophie had been depressed after arguments with her parents, and had hung herself.
Maria was a drunken criminal who had blown herself up by lighting a cigarette during a gas leak. Nobody missed her.
Liam and the old woman next door were unintentional. Yeah, sorry about that.
McCarthy deserved what he got. I suspected that other victims of his lust were cheering his death.

Eight deaths. Six deliberate murders, two collateral damage. Not that much, compared to famous killers.

I had no desire to be famous, so it was time to take a break. Leave some space between any deaths that might later be associated with me.

Get on with my studies, and fiocus on my next milestone, becoming seventeen and getting a driving licence. Three months before my birthday, I attended a careers exhibition at the school, and got chatting to representatives of the company I worked for eventually. They liked my grades, and said that if I didn’t go on to university, they would train me up on a management programme in the less than fascinating career of delivery logistics.

That appealed to me for two reasons. It wasn’t that far from where I lived, and the pay was good.

That same day, Uncle Brian decided to buy a new car. Being Brian, it was nothing exciting. A standard Ford Fiesta four-door in factory red, with no extras. He took out a two-year loan, after paying a substantial deposit, and collected the car the following Saturday. I suggested that he could put me on the insurance once I had my provisional licence, and take me out on ‘L’ plates. He grinned.

“Do you have any idea how much that might cost? An inexperienced driver of seventeen? Too much, that’s how much. Best you think about proper driving lessons when you can afford them”. I grinned back. He would learn the hard way.

The exams that summer went well, and I passed everything I hoped for. My plan was to leave school after the Easter break, and start my new job the first week in May. Meanwhile, I received my learner licence, and booked an intensive driving course for the second week of the summer holidays. It was very expensive, especially the one-to-one option that I chose. Picked up in a company car in the morning, and driving for most of the day, with practical classroom work before they dropped me back at home.

It lasted from Monday to Friday, with the official driving test pre-booked for the following Monday. If Brian wondered where I had got all the money from, he never asked me.

Passing first time wasn’t a done deal, but I was very pleased to receive the slip that meant I was a qualified driver. The next day before Brian went to work, I told him that not only did he have to put me on the insurance for the Fiesta, he had to sign the car over to me, as the new owner. Once he had paid it off, it would be mine.

As soon as he started to ridicule my idea, I only had to mention informing the police of what he had been doing to me, and he nodded.

Then he shut himself in his room until he had to leave for work.

43 thoughts on “Danny: Part Twenty-Seven

  1. It’s amazing how I’ve developed a soft spot for this heartless human, but I have! Now Uncle Brian deserves everything he’s dealing with, no soft spot for him! Thanks for the body count recap, helpful at my age! 💕C

    Liked by 1 person

  2. I had lost track of the body count, but apparently, Danny is keeping track.

    On a separate note, I remember some weeks back when you asked if anyone knew what happened to blogger Kim who used to post several times a day for a long time. Did you ever find out anything? It’s odd when people suddenly disappear from the blogosphere.

    Liked by 1 person

    1. No, we still miss Kim. A few of us have been trying to contact her, to no avail. I have decided to leave her in peace now, as she obviously has reasons for wanting her privacy.
      As for the body count, I think we all needed a recap! 🙂
      Best wishes, Pete.

      Liked by 1 person

  3. (1) “They were trying to break into the remote garages.” Speaking of remotes, couldn’t they get a universal garage door opener?
    (2) McCarthy experienced a hurried and unexpected departure for the afterlife.
    (3) “What followed for me was a period of contentment and reflection.” It’s okay to be proud of losing 40 pounds after sticking it out with Weight Watchers, but does one really need to smile at oneself in the mirror all day?
    (4) Suffocation, drowning, noose strangulation, carbon monoxide poisoning… Thanks to Danny, none of us readers are bored to death!
    (5) Danny decided to focus on the next milestone.

    (6) I know someone who used to grade desert roads. Referring to the Department of Transportation, he told me, “They liked my grades.”
    (7) What Uncle Brian doesn’t know is that the four cylinders in his Ford Fiesta are actually recycled fiesta corn cans.

    Liked by 2 people

    1. I don’t think we have Fiesta corn here, David.
      The sign is interesting, as my wife used to work at a bank in Wymondham.
      (It’s pronounced ‘Wind-em’ by the locals. )
      It is quite a long way from Beetley, by our standards. 16 miles each way, accessed by very small country roads. It has a famous Abbey, and a lovely old town. But the rest is a huge new development of housing estates. The headquarters of Norfolk Police are situated there too.

      Wymondham Abbey

      Best wishes, Pete.

      Liked by 1 person

    1. Born evil, or created by abuse? Hard to tell. But he did murder his baby sister out of jealousy, so I suppose we shouldn’t really like him. As he is my character, I confess to a soft spot for him!
      Best wishes, Pete.

      Liked by 1 person

  4. My Dad got his licence doing one of those one week courses, though he was in his 40’s at the time. After he passed he took my Mum out for a drive in our car (she’d passed at 18yrs old) and she never let him drive again. She said she’d never been so scared! 🤣 Thanks for that memory nudge!

    Hope DAnny doesn’t take too long off!

    Liked by 2 people

    1. I know some people who did those courses, and every one of them passed first time. I think they are better than dragging out one-hour lessons over a year.
      This is part 27, so not a lot of parts left for many more of Danny’s antics! 🙂
      Best wishes, Pete.

      Liked by 1 person

    1. The following Easter, when he was 17.
      ‘My plan was to leave school after the Easter break’.
      I could have added ‘next year’ for clarification, but Danny is narrating the story, and he didn’t. 🙂
      (I did the same thing, in 1969. Left at Easter the year after taking exams.)
      Best wishes, Pete.


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