Scary Stories - Twist in the Tale Series

Dirty Work

Other than himself,I am the only person who knows that Robert Jordan is innocent ofthe murder of his wife. As Jordan is to be hung in less than anhour, he will take his knowledge to the grave. When his bodydrops through the trap and swings from the rope, then I will bethe only one who knows the identity of the actual killer of SarahJordan.

He will be pacing the cold confines of the condemned cell now, asthe minutes tick away, indignant and outraged by the injusticethat put him there, perhaps beating the unyielding walls andscreaming his innocence to the world. No one will hear himthough; only the guard on his door, and he will have heard it allbefore. Eventually, as his final appointment approaches evernearer, he will subside onto the bunk and anger will be replacedby a far greater emotion: terror. He will know pure liquid fearas his mind enacts the ultimate moments: the trembling walk tothe scaffold, the strong arms supporting him at either side as hetakes each faltering step up to the platform, the blackness asthe hood drops over his head and steals his last sight of theworld. Will he be one of those that stand firm and proud as hefeels the rough bite of the rope round his neck, defiant at lastin the face of the inevitable, determined to make his exitdignified and gentlemanly, befitting his station in life? Or willhe succumb to base animal panic and have to be dragged kickingand screaming, begging and pleading, weeping and crying, to endhis days a gibbering, cowardly wreck?

Robert Jordan will be praying now, praying as he never hasbefore, praying desperately for the last-minute reprieve thatwill never come. Every tissue of his being will be ferventlyhoping that the true guilty one will step forward, remorseful andconscious-stricken that another is being punished for his crime.It will not happen.

A man in my position must be seen to be above reproach, to bebeyond criminality. I must adhere impeccably to the law. Thescandal would be enormous should it become known that it was Iwho killed Sarah Jordan.

I had to do it. If only she could have been content to let ouraffair remain a secret. I thought that I had convinced her thatit was for the best that we continue as we had for all thosemonths. However, that night, that last night, when we met at herhome while her husband was attending one of his many late-nightsessions, she was adamant. No amount of reasoning or persuasionfrom me would sway her; she loved me and she wanted the world toknow. She was leaving Robert; she had even written a lettertelling him so. What could I do? How could I allow it to bediscovered that I had been conducting a long-standing affair withthe wife of a prominent MP?

I am noted for my calmness and passivity; it is necessary in mywork, but that night when Sarah showed me the letter with my namein it like an accusation I snapped.

When the police arrived at the Jordan house, they found Robertstanding over the body of his wife spread out on the bed and thestocking I used to strangle her clutched in his hand. Theevidence against him, though circumstantial, was damning. At thetrial, the housekeeper and other witnesses revealed the constantrows between the couple and Jordan's violent behaviour toward hiswife in graphic detail. When it was further exposed that he hadbeen conducting an affair (one of many) with his personalsecretary, from whose bed he had come home that night and withwhom he had often discussed how much he despised Sarah, the juryhad little hesitation in finding Jordan guilty. No one was awarethat the real culprit was viewing the whole procedure from thepublic gallery.

It is almost time now. The door of the condemned cell will beswinging open to admit the escort who will accompany RobertJordan on the long walk to his final rendezvous. What exquisitedread he must be feeling; I would not wish to be in his shoes.

"We're ready for you now, Mr Blackstone."

"What? ... Oh, I'm sorry officer, you startled me; I musthave been daydreaming. I was just giving the equipment a finalcheck. Everything seems to be in order."

"Oh, I'm sure it must be, sir; I've never known you to makea mistake. Very professional you are, sir, if you don't mind mesaying so. Though I couldn't do your job for a gold clock. Dirtywork it is, being a hangman, and no mistake."

"Why, thank you, officer; that's very kind of you. You'reright, it is dirty work, but you know what they say: someone hasto do it."

"I suppose so, sir. Oh well, it sounds like they're bringingJordan in now."

"Yes, I'm ready."

Dirty work, yes, but I will make sure Robert Jordan's executionis as clean as all the rest. One should always take pride inone's work.