“Can you read what I am writing?”, I asked as I had no idea what this remote-controlled pen was writing. It could have been meaningless scribbling, for all I knew, yet it moved with such speed and great purpose.
“Not yet. The pen’s moving far too fast to follow the words, but, when you stop I will try and discover what you or Ivanko is writing.”
We had to work fast when the pen came close to the bottom of the page. As I lifted the pen, Suzanne quickly moved a new page into position and helped me to put the pen in the correct place at the top of the page.
Eventually, the pen began to slow down, paused and then remained still.
Suzanne turned the papers so that she could see them properly. I laid the pen down, feeling thoroughly exhausted and drained. “Does it say anything sensible?”
As Suzanne quickly scanned the paper, she said, “Oh, yes. It says, ‘My name is Ivanko Ademovic. I moved to this house in Sale with my wife, Selmira, in 2013. Things were good at that time. Both of us had moved from Bosnia to the U.K. in 1995. Things started to go wrong in 2015 when Selmira started an affair with a younger man from Wythenshawe. Things between us became worse and we had many arguments. We had a big row when she told me that she was leaving me to be with the other man. I never thought that she could hurt me in this way. I have to admit that I began drinking large quantities of vodka, so much that I passed out.
I knew that I should come back to my senses at some stage, yet, after that, I did not see, hear or feel anything and I knew that Selmira must have, somehow, killed me.
Why did she hate me so much? Now, I can’t escape from this ‘prison’.” As Suzanne was reading the text, her voice revealed her anguish at the events described by Ivanko. “God! That’s awful! Poor Ivanko was murdered by his own wife!”
“I wonder if his body is still in this house. That could explain why Ivanko is trying to make contact with us. Put the pen on a new piece of paper, please love.”
She did as I asked and placed another piece of paper in front of me, gave me the pen again and positioned it at the top of the page.
“Ivanko? What did Selmira do with your body?” Immediately, the pen began to move and Suzanne watched closely, trying to follow the notes. “He says that Selmira cut his body into two pieces and hid each in the bedrooms.’” She took a sudden intake of breath. “His body is actually upstairs in the bedrooms! Oh, my God! To think that we were…” She did not need to finish her sentence as I knew exactly what she was about to say.
“That explains a lot. Poor devil! No wonder he has been haunting us. Ivanko, do you know just where Selmira concealed your body?”
Again, the pen began to move.
Suzanne gave a little gasp. “Oh, my God! He says that she concealed the parts in the chimneys!”
I had a sudden realisation. Suzanne had noticed, when we were looking around the house before purchase, that the decorating in the bedrooms had appeared to be quite recent in contrast to the remainder of the house. Perhaps Selmira had this done to conceal her crime? “Ivanko! Do you know where your wife is?”
“He says that he thinks she is still in the U.K., but does not know just where. She did have a friend in Hereford, but does not know if she is there.”
“Thank you, Ivanko. Suzanne and I will do everything to bring you peace and justice.”
Suzanne laughed, saying, “Ivanko says ‘Thank you’ and is sorry for the intrusion into our private lives. All he wants, now, is to rest in peace.”
I put the pen down and leaned back in my chair. “That is the least we can do for him. It’s truly amazing that his spirit can work through me, but, the experience was absolutely exhausting. I feel really shattered and drained.”
“I’ve heard of ‘automatic writing’ before”, said Suzanne. “But I never thought that I would see it with my own eyes.”
I agreed. “It is truly amazing, but I am not certain what we should do with the information Ivanko gave us.”
“We must tell the police. A horrendous murder has been committed.” Suzanne sounded quite convinced of our next action.
“But, we can’t tell the police just how we know. There could be awkward questions and they may even feel that we have, somehow, been involved in a murder.”
“Oh, I see what you mean. So, what do you think we should do, Tonie?”
I was thinking of all different possible courses of action. “I’m not certain. I need time to think about it. For now, I feel exhausted and really look forward to some restful sleep.”
“Do you think it is safe to sleep in the bedroom, knowing what is in the chimney?”
I laughed. “I have a feeling that Ivanko may leave us alone, now that he has managed to tell his story. I really don’t want to think about what is in the chimney. How about you, love?”
“As long as I am with you, sweetheart, I think I can blank out the reality of the situation.”
I was correct. Too exhausted to make love, both of us managed a restful sleep, that night. My only worry was how to release the information to the police without being regarded as a possible crank or, worse, a suspect.
It was the next day before I came up with an answer. I asked Barry, from next door, if he knew of someone who could carry out small building work for me. He gave me the phone number of Bill Myers, who appeared to be the local handyman.
I took a chance and phoned his mobile number on the Saturday morning. Luckily, Bill replied and did not mind being contacted during the weekend.
I told him that I thought a bird had dropped down the chimney, as there was a bad, rotting smell in the bedroom. He agreed to come on Tuesday morning to see what he could find. I just hoped that he had a strong stomach, knowing just what he was likely to find.
Suzanne and I went into work on the Monday and both booked four days holiday. Our team leader, though initially surprised by our request, knew that we were ahead of schedule on our current project and agreed to our short-notice vacation.
I had explained that, after moving in together, Suzanne and I had discovered some minor problems with the house. I needed time to show workmen what needed to be done, get prices and organise the work. It was fortunate that he accepted the reasons for our absence.
Thankfully, the spirit of Ivanko let us sleep without disturbance over the next few days. Kelly, however, still refused to mount the stairs, preferring to stay on her bed in the hall during the nights.
Even with all the strange happenings over the past few days, the relationship between Suzanne and I became ever closer. We felt so comfortable in each other’s company and took every opportunity to make love. Neither of us wanted to use condoms, but neither did we want to experience an unexpected, early pregnancy. We overcame this problem by recording the start and end date of Suzanne’s menstrual cycles. The “Rhythm method” was widely used by those who followed the Catholic faith. Neither of us belonged to the Church of Rome, yet, providing we were careful, avoiding intercourse in the days before menstruation, it could be the simplest way of preventing conception.
Part Two: Secrets of the dead
Chapter Twelve: bedroom revelations
I felt extremely nervous while waiting for Bill, the handyman, to arrive on Tuesday morning. He was quite prompt and appeared to be middle-aged and friendly, particularly when he saw Kelly. “I love dogs, especially German Shepherds.”
“Kelly is my guide dog and I really would be lost without her.” It was important that he knew the situation about my lack of sight before starting any work.
“Okay, would you like to let me see the problem room, Mr. Buckingham?”