“Have you introduced yourself yet?” Bryan asked his wife, as he removed his coat and draped it over the back of the chair.
Gloria made no reply. Her eye’s firmly fixed on the house across the street.
“They’ll think you’re nosy if they spot you spying on them,” Bryan added walking over and placing a kiss on her cheek.
“I can’t help it,” she replied, pulling away from the window at last. “There’s something not right about them,” She added, giving
Bryan a hurried peck on the cheek, before scurrying out to the kitchen to fetch his tea.
When she returned and Bryan was happily eating she sat in her arm chair, her attention drawn once more to the house across the
“So you going to tell me why you think there’s something wrong with them?” Bryan asked, as he forked up more of his delicious
steak and kidney pie.
“Well for a start they’ve taken nothing but chairs and a couple of tables inside.”
“Maybe they’re into the whole minimalist look.” Bryan replied with a smile.
“It’s all black. I thought minimalists liked everything white and clean and anyway even minimalists need to sleep surely. Plus
it’s not just a few chairs! Its stacks and stacks of chairs and that’s not all! There have been wooden crates, lots of rope, and I even saw the woman carrying what looked like... well, body bags
and I don’t mean just one or two, she had a whole arm full of them.” Gloria added.
Bryan shook his head and gave as sigh. “Have you heard yourself?” he asked. “Think about it Gloria. There just moving into a new
house. The crates will be there things, and the bags well I guarantee what you saw was just those protective bags you can buy full of clothes.”
“Shovels!” Gloria cried. “Now they’ve got bloody shovels.”
“We have shovels.” Bryan jumped in. “Probably every single house along here has a shovel or two. There moving in Gloria. I doubt
this is their first home. You’re just being paranoid.”
But Gloria was not happy and spent the rest of the night gazing out of the window anxiously.
As her small clock chimed eight she spotted a group of people slowly walking down the street. As they drew closer she saw that it
was four men and a woman. They were all dressed in black and white. The only colour a red tie dangling from the girl’s neck.
Gloria watched intrigued as they made their way to the house across the street and watched as the door was opened just wide enough
for the group to slip inside one at a time.
She said nothing to Bryan afraid that he would just laugh at her again but instead sat and watched closely. Soon more and more
people began to arrive, all came quietly and all, bar a few of the lady’s, were dressed in black and white
“Ruth say’s they have an American accent.” Bryan said suddenly causing Gloria to jump.
“I bet there furniture has just been delayed.” He added.
But Gloria again did not reply. Instead she gazed eyes wide out of the window at two large men who stood at the door of the
neighbours house a large crate at their feet, out of which they each pulled a very large gun. Gloria was no expert on guns but she was certain that these were machine guns. Her hand flew to her
mouth as she watched the door open and the crate disappear inside with the two men.
Gazing at the lit up windows of the house she waited baited breath and then to her horror she saw some of the guest raise their
hands into the air each one waving a machine gun in the air.
Without a word to Bryan she rushed to the hall and snatched up the phone hurriedly stabbing nine-nine-nine.
Tracey screamed as suddenly the door was smashed open.
“Police, get down, get down, on the floor,” she heard someone bellow from the front door.
People screamed as armed officers filled the house. Tracey just stood there frozen to the spot. Her gun clutched in her hands.
“Drop it!” an officer yelled pointing his gun at her.
“Drop the gun!” He added again this time the command sinking in as she dropped the gun onto the floor.
“There not real. There not real.” Ryan called from where he laid on the floor his hands behind his head as an officer pinned him
“It’s our house warming,” he added. As the officers spotted the body bags heaped up and clearly not empty on the two large, black
tables at one end of the room.
They took in the collection of nooses hanging from the ceiling around the room, and the huge unmarked crates piled in a corner.
Moving through to the next room, they eyed the collection of chairs all facing a podium, the head man Robertson frowned.
“What do you think?” he asked one of his men, who stood beside him.
“It looks dodgy.” The man replied.
Snatching up a gun Robertson eyed it. “It’s fucking plastic,” he snapped then stormed over to the body bags and slowly unzipped
one. Gazing at the contents he hurriedly unzipped another and then another, but they were all the same. Nothing more than blow up dolls. There was nothing illegal about that.
Then moving over to the crates he removed the lid with ease. Repeating the process with every single one until he was certain they
were all empty.
“It’s a house warming party.” Tracey snarled seeing the look of disappointment on Robertson’s face. “The theme is the god father.”
Once all the policeman had left along with the helicopter they had scrambled the Petachi’s and their guests slowly made their way
back inside all muttering amongst themselves.
Ryan moved to the window and pulled the curtains before turning to his attention back to his guests.
“Right you lot,” he snapped a crowbar in his hand. “Let’s get the real body’s boxed up and shifted.” And with that he pulled up
the floor boards and with the help of a few of his friends began to pull up the dead body’s that were hidden beneath.
“I told you it would work.” Tracy said draping an arm around his shoulders. “There’s always one nosey old bat in a street and now
the cops think we’re having a themed party they won’t be back in a hurry,” She added with a smirk.
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