Murder in the Staircase
The killer entered the house silently and made his way to the stairs but in the dark he tripped over a toy, stumbled and swore out loud waking Paul and Kathryn Reardon.
“What the hell?“ Reardon asked as he shuffled in bare feet to the stairs.
The man downstairs stepped onto the staircase and unloaded both barrels at Paul Reardon. The blast threw him onto his back, arms flying over his head. The pellets ripped open his stomach and shredded his organs. Leaving a trail of blood, Reardon’s body slid down the steps.
The killer considered him collateral damage.
The murderer opened the shotgun, extracted the spent shells and reloaded. His real target, The Assassin, hid upstairs.
He stepped around the corpse and crept up the stairs towards Kathryn Reardon. He heard her blockading the bathroom door. He tried the knob. Locked. He put his shoulder into the door. Jammed.
The killer opened a hole in the door with a single blast. He cocked the second barrel and found Kathryn huddled in the bath tub with an infant clutched to her chest.
“Oh, God, please don’t,” she pleaded.
Surprised by the baby, the man hesitated just long enough for Kathryn to lunge at him with a pair of scissors. He shrieked as the blades dug into his left bicep and he dropped the gun. The shotgun went off hitting the mirror, sending thousands of shards of glass flying around the bathroom.
Cut and bleeding, Kathryn dropped the baby, shoved the man aside and ran towards the steps. He pursued her with his left arm dangling uselessly at his side. The woman tore down the steps, past her dead husband and into the kitchen.
She grabbed a butcher knife and her cell phone. Kathryn stood at the bottom of the stairs dialing 9-1-1 as the man stood at the top of the stairs struggling to reload the shotgun with one arm.
“C’mon down, you bastard!” she hissed at him. “I’ll cut your balls off and feed ‘em to you.”
Murderer and assassin stared at each other for a long minute.
As sirens wailed in the distance, a vicious smile crossed the murderer’s face.
“You idiot!” he screamed at her. “I have the baby!”
He rushed back to the bathroom where a baby’s body lay torn by the flying glass.
“Damn it” he snarled to himself.
He knew his only chance was to rush the woman and hope he could escape without additional injury. If he waited another 30 seconds the police would arrive.
He whirled around in panic and then gasped in pain as the butcher knife plunged into his stomach. Kathryn turned the knife as he fell into the tub dying.
She stood over him gasping for breath and smiled as he bleed from his gut, mouth and ears. She saw his eyes momentarily focus on the shredded toy doll in the tub.
Kathryn sat next to him as a police officer pounded up the stairs.
“My sister,” she said to the killer, “has a daughter who plays with dolls.”
Tim Tobin holds a degree in mathematics from LaSalle University and is retired from L-3 Communications. He lives with his wife MaryAnn and two cats in Voorhees, NJ. His two grandchildren, Maggie (6) and Shawn (9) are the joy of his life. Mr. Tobin continues his education by attending classes at Camden County College where he also volunteers his time. Ninety of his stories appear in print and online. Follow him on Twitter @TimTobin43.
