A Crime Triple

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A Crime Triple

The Perfect Crime

“I think I may have found a way to commit the perfect crime.”

Peter Finch was discussing the subject with his friend George Miller the local police detective.

“How many times Peter? There is no way to commit a crime and get away with it, what with DNA testing and the like. Criminals have no chance.” George said this with an air of confidence knowing his friend of six years would never be able to disprove it.

This topic had come up again in one of their weekly drinking sessions. Peter seemed to get obsessed with it once he’d had a couple of drinks. And seeing how his drinking buddy was a copper, who better to discuss it with.

“I’ve been doing a lot of research on this subject for my next book and I’m pretty sure someone like me can get away with it.”

George gulped down the rest of his pint and slid the glass across the table. “I suggest you do some more research. It may be possible in your books, but it’s not possible in the real world. Now, do you want another pint?”

Peter nodded and George left to get the round in.


Peter got home around eleven thirty that evening to find an empty house. He was a single man living at home with his mother. She must still be at bingo. Often a group of them would stay behind and chat or go round to someone’s house for a couple of drinks. It was only round the corner so not far for her to get home.

He had a twin brother who was studying at some science institute in the Midlands and Paul would pop down during any breaks he had. Their father was never talked about. He left when they were only ten years old and never kept in touch. Neither of the boys knew the reason and when they confronted their mum about it she would just brush over the subject.

Cold food sat in the oven that his mum always made for him on his nights out. He never usually ate it, but it was always there when he got in. He emptied the plate into the bin and headed off to bed.


The phone woke him just as it was getting light. There was a phone in his mum’s bedroom and she would usually answer it, but it just kept on ringing. He crawled out of bed, feeling the pounding in his head from the usual hangover he suffered after his nights out. By the time he reached the phone it had been ringing for a good couple of minutes. Boy they’re persistent he thought. He picked up the receiver.


“Hello. Mr Finch? This is St. Mary’s hospital. Your mother was brought in last night after she got knocked down by a car. She’s in intensive care at the moment.” The voice dropped Peter’s heart to the bottom of his stomach. He stood in silence for a minute.

“Mr Finch?”

“I’ll be there as soon as I can.” Peter slammed the phone down and hurriedly put some clothes on while searching for his car keys.

The journey took ten minutes through empty streets. The sun was shining brightly on a cold winter’s morning and a beautiful day was beginning, but unnoticed by Peter fearing the worst for his mother. He had a deep down feeling of loss that he couldn’t shake. I have to be positive he kept telling himself in his mind as all sorts of scenarios played out.

He burst through three sets of swinging doors before finally finding someone who could guide him to intensive care. When he reached there he was directed to the Doctor who was looking after his mother.

“Mr Finch, I’m afraid your mother was pronounced dead five minutes ago. I’m sorry for your loss. We’re just preparing her for you so you can go and see her. I have to go and see another patient now, but Nurse Reynolds will take care of you and explain what will happen next.” With that the Doctor left leaving the nurse to take over.

Peter was stunned. A flood of emotion tore through his body ripping his insides out and leaving him trembling with tears pouring down his face. The nurse guided him to a chair then said something about getting him a drink and left him on his own.

Time seemed to stop for Peter. The heart wrenching moment when he saw his mother there on the bed motionless seemed to stop the world. A void in time engulfed both of them behind the curtains. Peter, not able to pull himself away from his mother’s side. Not wanting to pull himself away from his mother’s side.