I was agitated and did not want to see anymore so I ran back home. Away from danger. Away from fear.
That night I could not sleep. I tossed and turned in bed all night. I kept thinking about what I was to do. Call the police? Tell someone? But I was curious and I decided that on the next day I would go and dig it up.
In the morning all I could think about was the night before. I could not concentrate on anything. I decided I would have some alcohol to steady my nerves.
As I sat there the large clock glared at me. Every minute seemed like an hour. My stomach was full of butterflies. After three large scotches I was on the verge of becoming drunk. I could not be tipsy. I had to be fully awake.
I spent the rest on the day sitting on the sofa staring at the clock. 1pm, 2pm, 3pm, 4pm, 5pm ……. 9pm. I had to be getting ready. It was now or never. I picked up a shovel and got dressed in black. I left the house at 11pm.
It was foggy and stingingly chilly. The streetlamps reflected off the fog which created an eerie atmosphere. The moon gazed at me. Questions started popping up in my mind. Would it still be there? Was it really a body? Should I go to the police?
I arrived at the scene and could distinguish the spot where the sand has been tossed. I started to dig. My arms began to ache and felt burning hot but I ignored the pain and strived on. I must have dug over one metre of sand and I could still see nothing. I noticed a hint of movement out of the corner of my eye. I glanced around to check if anyone was there but I could see no one, just the man in the moon. Suddenly I heard a thud. I had hit something. I fell to my hands and knees and brushed off the rest of the sand. The box had handles on it and I used them to lift it out of the sand. The lid was sealed down so I used the spade to wedge it off and what I saw astounded me. It was full of rifles. So it was not a body after all. Why were they being hidden?
I ran home to call the police but when I got there all I could see were red and blue flashing lights. There were many police cars surrounding my house. Why were they there? Was I in trouble? Had I been framed?
I walked over to the nearest policeman. He shouted, “Here he is!” All the policemen pounced and pointed there guns at me. Two of them ran behind me and handcuffed my hands together behind my back.
Someone behind me said, “You are under arrest for the illegal import of LR56 rifles. Anything you say may harm…” How did this happen? I did not understand.
I was thrown into a cell. I was sitting there for hours on the cold hard floor in the corner, all confused. I heard a click. The door had been unlocked and opened.
A man walked in and stared at me. He looked familiar. Who was he? Where had I seen him before? His long nose and elongated face were very distinctive. His beady eyes were glaring at me.
He walked up to me and whispered, “Thanks for taking the blame.” It suddenly all made sense. He was one of the men who I had seen on the beach digging the hole. “We have photographs to prove you were burying the box.”
“You framed me! I was digging the box out! You put it in there!” I shouted.
The man stood there and sneered at me. “I’ll see you later, in Hell!” He laughed and walked out of the cell.
I was framed. Those beady eyes haunted me every night. Later that week on the way to the court I made my escape.
During the following few months I sought evidence to prove my innocence. Eventually through a lucky break I managed to find some CCTV footage showing the two crooks loading a van with rifles behind a warehouse.
Now, I sit here on the beach in Barbados sipping my scotch relaxing under the sunshine. The two crooks who framed me are enjoying their sentence in prison. I still go for my daily walks, not in cold dreary weather but in the sunshine of the Caribbean.
