First try at short story

OK, this is my first try at a short story, and I find them impossible to do, because they all come out rubbish. This is a prompted story for homework, it is supposed to be 900 words but it is 1,300. I'm not too bothered about shortening it, but any suggestions would be of the greatest appreciation!

I looked up, right into the eyes of my opponent, who smiled viciously.

“Mr. Hewitt, you understand why you are here, don’t you?” I said, sternly.

“I do,” he replied matter of factly.

“ Well then I must highly recommend that you do not smile.” He kept smiling. I let out one long sigh, “Mr. Hewitt we can do this the easy way or the hard way, you sign the confession, you get a few years off your sentence, if you do not, we will make an embarrassment of you in court, and you will more years in prison. Which sounds more appealing to you?

The man burst out laughing, “ You still think I did it? I can reassure you ‘superintendent’ that it was not me who shot that Henley girl, it was not me who posted her toe through the letter box of your office, and it was not me who burnt down her house. You will find not be able to charge me, look here, you have the wrong man, so just let it go and go find some other guy.”

Seven days later, the jury found the man innocent of all charges. I wouldn’t let this go.

6 MONTHS LATER

I was not so long back from the hospital when James Maloney came rushing towards me. “Sir! We’ve just had an anonymous tip off that there’s gonna be a fire, just been confirmed, they all believe it’s arsonists, sir.” I watch as James slips on his coat and dashes down the corridor. Great, here we go.

Half an hour later we are all staring at the carcass of a house, smoke still rising off the top of white hot ashes. The quiet whispers of reassuring parents behind me is hardly audible over the hum of the fire vehicles. I just manage to hear the hesitant footsteps of Inspector Maloney coming with the ID of our Jane Doe.

“Well?” I stand there, swaying on my feet, arms wrapped tight around me to keep out the cold. Why? Why did it have to be on a cold day?

“ Well, sir it looks like it’s exactly the same, no mistakes, I’ve just had the call from the office confirming the toe, and forensics confirm the bullet’s from the same gun.” Maloney looks at me with a puzzled look on his face, his voice becomes a lot calmer, “I just don’t understand, maybe Hewitt did kill the last one, and maybe it was a mistake, he killed the wrong Henley. And the gun, the police kept the gun after the last Henley murder, so how can this one be shot with it?” He turns away, still puzzled.

“Well, look who it is, our friendly neighbour hood watch.

“I’m not here for tea and biscuits Hewitt, we are here regarding the death of Ms. Henley. Before you say anything, not the one you killed seven months ago, but the one you killed yesterday.” I push open the door and let myself in, taking in a deep breath of what I instantly recognise as marijuana. “And that doesn’t seem the only thing we can

charge you on.” This time it’s my turn to smile.

“Do you have a warrant? And what the hell are you talking about? I never killed no Ms. Henley, seven months ago, or yesterday. What is this other thing you can charge me on? I can provide a sound alibi for yesterday, I was right here.”

“Smoking I guess.” I interrupt him.

“What?”

I decide to take some time to look around his house. He doesn’t seem too fussed and just

leans on the open door.

It’s a small house, with only five rooms, kitchen, lounge, bedroom and toilet. Each has the minimal amount of furnishings. The lounge has nought but a sofa, TV and a bookcase (which is empty), the bedroom has a bed, the toilet has a toilet, shower and sink. Everything is dirty.

“What are you looking for?” His voice is getting louder and I tell he is getting annoyed. Deciding to just let it go for now, I turn back to him.

“Do you have anyone who can confirm your alibi?” I question him, pen and paper at the ready.

“As a matter of fact, I do actually. His name is Peter Callingham, you have a phone book.” I couldn’t be bothered to persist so I used the phone book and a few minutes later the police find Peter Callingham’s house burnt down, his body inside, his missing toe on the doorstep of my office, a bullet in his brain from the same gun as Hewitt’s.

It wasn’t looking good for him.

I popped into Hewitt’s house the next day to tell him what happened. “What now?” He demands.

“I’m just here to tell you something. I thought it would be worth to see the look on your face before we lock you up.”He lets me in this time and gets me a chair from the garage, commenting that he doesn’t usually have visitors. Once he sits down on the sofa I reveal to him how I knew he was guilty of the first Henley murder, and how I made sure he was going to be locked up for it, or at least for something. I reveal to him how I had met with a friend of the earlier Ms. Henley at a hospital. She was due to have her life support machine turned off later in the day, she agreed to being our new Ms. Henley. How being superintendent meant I was allowed access to Hewitt’s old gun. I told him that I had used a Ms. Henley as the victim because it created some theories at the start. I informed him that I planted marijuana in his house just in case the Henley bit wen’t all wrong. I recounted how when I found out he had a solid alibi, I needed to destroy it. Again using the same methods as last time. Finally I notified him, he had no way of getting out of this.

Hewitt sits back in the sofa, as if blasted by the information overload. He takes a cigarette from his pocket and lights it slowly with a lighter which came from the other pocket.

I don’t realise until the last minute what he is doing, in one fluid movement the cigarette flies from his hand into my face and before I know it he is up, running out the door like a deer from a lion. I shake off the cigarette and leap after him, but he has a major head start.

I get to the front door fast enough for to watch him vault the neighbours fence. I sprint over as fast as I can, following his every foot step in case there is some sort of trap along the way. The garden is laden with long grass and I feel it pathetically slash at my legs, slowing me down. But I keep going. I notice his large figure leap over another fence and try to pick up the pace. I realise this is useless, I’ll never catch him. I stop, reaching for my phone. I am just about to press call when I smell something unusual. It’s the smell of smoke.

I spin on my heels just in time to see the roof of Hewitt’s house collapse in flames. I remember the cigarette. Well, I think, he has nowhere to run too. I press the call button and hear Maloney’s voice on the other end. “We have news” His voice told me it wasn’t good.

Seven days later, the jury find the man guilty of all charges. They papers call him a crazed lunatic. Why would a man do such a thing? And for a long time the superintendent wondered that himself.