A strangled scream of terror emerged from Selmira’s mouth. This had the effect of attracting everybody to look at this strange, terrified woman. Selmira left the crossing and ran as fast as she could, along the busy road. Tears were streaming down her face as she weaved in and around the slowly-moving traffic. Her race came to a swift end when she, eventually, ran into the front of a bus which had been picking up speed along the road towards Selmira. The driver knew that it would be difficult to avoid her, shouted a curse, sounded his horn and slammed on his brakes, but it was already too late for the woman.
The bus driver dis-engaged his gears, pulled on his hand-brake and opened the doors, moving quickly towards the crumpled body on the road. More people ran over, surrounding the woman’s prone body, which was losing blood fast.
“Please let me through”, shouted a man. He was a paramedic who had seen the accident. The crowd parted, making way for him. He crouched down and felt for a pulse, both on her bloody wrist and neck. “I’m sorry, I can’t do anything for her. She’s already dead!”
Even more people were gathering at the tragic scene, but they soon parted when two policemen pushed their way through. “Please move away, everybody!” He was already on his phone, calling for support and an ambulance.
Five minutes later, an ambulance pulled up and the medics checked the blood-oozing body, before placing it on a stretcher and carrying it into the ambulance.
The bus driver and some pedestrians were already giving statements, all traffic stopped on this normally, busy road.
“She had no chance”, said the driver. “She ran straight into my path and I braked as fast as I possibly could.” He was visibly shaken by this tragic accident.
Some of the people who had been using the pedestrian crossing related how horrified the woman had looked, saying that she seemed desperate to get as far away as possible, yet nobody had any idea why she had been so desperate.
The police were already looking through Selmira’s handbag in the hope of identifying this unfortunate woman whose life had been taken so suddenly. From what they found, her name was Sarah Armstrong, as indicated on her debit cards. The letter from the supermarket, asking her to attend an interview was also in the bag. Fortunately, this had her address, enabling the police to find and search her apartment for any clues about this unfortunate young woman.
The sombre police officer rang the door bell of Selmira’s neighbour. When Karen heard of the accident, she was visibly shaken and shocked. “I only spoke to her, for the first time, this afternoon. She was admiring my little girl, Angeline. She seemed very pleasant and we did say that we must meet again for a longer conversation.” Karen burst into tears, shaken by the sudden, tragic news. Her husband was trying his best to comfort and calm her.
The police investigation of the apartment revealed very little. The only item of interest was a wig. Why should this woman, who had short, light brown hair want to wear a wig of long, black hair? Nothing else of significance was found during the extensive search of her apartment.
Sarah Armstrong’s body at the morgue did, however, reveal more information. It did not take long for the blue, cosmetic contact lenses to be discovered. In addition, Sarah’s hair colour was not light brown, after all. The base of her hairs did reveal that her hair was naturally black. This woman had, apparently, made extensive efforts to change the appearance of her eyes and hair colour, but, why?
Finger-prints from the corpse were taken and, after the police finger-print data base was searched, a match was found.
Part Four: Retribution
Chapter Twenty-one: Surprise news
Suzanne and I were relaxing, while watching television that Tuesday night, never imagining that we were about to find a news item so closely personal to us.
Fiona Bruce, the newsreader, sounded very serious as she said, “Yesterday early evening, in Birmingham, a woman ran into the path of a moving bus and received severe injuries from which she has, since, died.”
At this point, Suzanne exclaimed, “ That’s Selmira’s photo on the screen, Tonie!”
“What! She’s dead?” I found it so difficult to believe, yet, perhaps Ivanko had managed to avenge his own death.
Fiona continued, “Police have been searching for Selmira Ademovic in connection with the death of her husband Ivanko, who died in suspicious circumstances around April, this year. It appears that she had moved to Birmingham in May. She had changed both her appearance and name, posing as Sarah Armstrong. Police are asking anybody who knew her since she had moved into the Birmingham area, to contact the police, as soon as possible.”
Suzanne and I were stunned into temporary silence. “It appears that Ivanko has managed to achieve true justice for his murder”, I commented.
“It appears so, but it’s still an awful way to die – I can’t imagine how awful it must be to be run down by a bus!”
The next morning, I phoned D. I. Marsden. “I understand that Ivanko’s wife has been found in Birmingham. It’s a pity that she had to die before she could be found.”
“Yes. Apparently, she had set herself up with a new identity as Sarah Armstrong and changed both eye and hair colour to evade police detection, yet it did her no good in the end.”
“So, is the case closed, now?”, I asked.
“Not quite. We need to check if she was carrying out the deception on her own or with assistance from an unknown party, but, apart from that, the loose ends are being tied up, now. We shouldn’t need to bother you again, Mr. Buckingham.”
This was a great load lifted off my shoulders and, now, I just wanted to live a quiet life with Suzanne, hopefully, without any more ghostly occurrences.
We did try the automatic writing, one more time out of curiosity about ivanko. The message was quite short and, thankfully, not too taxing.
Suzanne read, “I am very sorry for disturbing your lives, but I had to do something to show where Selmira had hidden my body. She is with me, now and deeply regrets her dangerous actions. I have forgiven her and we will stay together. I will leave you both in peace, now and hope that you have a long, happy future together.”
True to his word, every room in the house, somehow, now seemed to be fresh-scented and at peace, Suzanne, Kelly and I feeling the improvement in our lives. Kelly even returned to sleeping on her bed in our bedroom, walking up the stairs without any fear or hesitation.
One Sunday, when we were all relaxing in the garden, enjoying the scent of a beautiful, hot, sunny day in mid-August, Suzanne made a little, surprised noise.
“What is it, love?”
“I noticed a crow on one of the branches of the tree at the end of the garden and wondered why it seemed to be watching us, when another crow joined it on the same branch. Both of the birds have, been sitting, quietly, side-by-side and staying almost motionless watching us.”
I felt a little uncomfortable at the way this conversation was going. “What do you think it means?”
“I know that it sounds quite crazy, but I think that the two crows are Ivanko and Selmira. Even Kelly has stopped running around the garden and is looking up at the crows. It’s so weird, Tonie.”
A shiver of fear ran through me and, yet, I felt that these two dead people, both of whom had died under terrible circumstances, were now in a better place. “I think that they are letting us know that, at last, they are at peace and together again.” I held Suzanne close in an effort to calm her, and, while we were embracing, I heard the flapping of powerful wings.