It wasn't me!

The dread in the pit of his stomach consumed him like a wave of sickness, as morning broke. Hitting his alarm to snooze, he rolled over into the warmness of his pillow and drifted back to sleep. The morning sunlight was peeping through the curtains and the morning songbirds were already humming their merry tunes. As Philip's alarm sounded off again, it reminded him of his responsibility to be and adult and actually rise from his pit to begin the day. With a large yawn, he pulled back the duvet and stared up at the ceiling. Could today really be worse than yesterday? Long hours, low pay, why bother? Eventually, he swivelled himself around and placed his feet onto the carpet. He remained there for a moment and let his toes dance among the bristles. With a deep breath, he stood up and stretched his 6-foot-2-inch frame to the ceiling. He yawned again, mouth ajar, before taking his first step of the day towards his en-suite bathroom. He clattered across the bedroom rubbing his blue eyes, whilst he adjusted his vision. He came to gaze upon his unshaven face. His short, black hair looked like a bird had been nesting there overnight. He turned on the warm tap and collected droplets in his hands before splashing it over his face. He grinned into the mirror exposing his off-white teeth and reddish gums. With a sigh, he withdrew his toothbrush from its resting place and squeezed a healthy dollop of toothpaste onto it. He began to scrub his teeth in an extremely half-hearted manner. After a mediocre breakfast of cornflakes and a glass of orange juice, Philip placed his bowl and cup into the sink and put on his leather jacket and brown work shoes. He was ready to go for another day in hell.

The journey to his office block was only a short drive away, yet he still chose to drive, even though he could probably walk it in 15 minutes. He kept saying to himself that he would get a bike sorted out to help him lose his overgrown beer belly. He never had quite got around to it. He pulled up and reversed into his usual spot as close to the building as he could get, opening the car door only to admire his parking. It was a frosty morning, although the sun was out. Philip remained in the car for a moment to enjoy the last remnants of heat entering through the vents on the dashboard of his Ford Focus. He let out a huge sigh before opening the car door, stepping out and locking the car with his wireless key. The car flashed its lights, as though it was winking at Philip sarcastically. He turned sharply and made his way slowly towards the office door. His coat was pulled up over his ears and he used his mouth and chin to help keep it in place. The dreaded office door was getting closer and closer, his feet wanted to slow down to prolong what was left of his morning freedom. Just as he was about to reach out his arm and grab the handle a loud booming voice bellowed behind him… “STOP!”

Philip nearly jumped out of his skin. Before he could turn around to see what or who it was, he was knocked from behind onto the ground. As luck would have it, he’d left his briefcase in the car by mistake, so his hands were free to break the fall. His arms were swiftly ripped behind his back and he could hear the crackling of radio’s as his coat slipped off his head. He could see four, maybe five, police officers: all in full uniform and stab vests. Blue lights were flashing all over like a pub fruit machine. His heart was pumping at a rate of knots and he felt that sick feeling consuming him once again.

“You have the right to remain silent” shouted the officer who had Philip’s hands firmly cuffed.

“Silent about what?” demanded Philip, he had no idea what was going on. He looked up at the office block and faces upon faces filled the windows like tourists watching animals at the zoo. His face went bright red, he tried avert his gaze down to the ground.

“Hey, get off me, what have I done wrong?” pleaded Philip.

“We will discuss this at the station Mr. Ross” replied the officer.

“The station?” queried Philip “I think there must be a mistake officer… I …” before he could finish his sentence, Philip’s manager bounded out of the building towards him like an angry bulldog who had swallowed a wasp. He was a short, Welshman who did not accept any nonsense.

“ROSS!” he bellowed, “You’ve done it this time haven’t you?” he continued to scold Philip.

“But… Barry, please, I don’t know what this is all about: it must be a mistake!” Philip desperately pleaded.

“You make me sick!” scowled Barry looking Philip up and down before marching back into the building with his tie swinging from side to side like a pendulum.

“Right, let’s go lads, take him in Richard.” Said one of the officers

“Right you are Sarge” replied the arresting officer, as he forced Philip’s arm into his back and marched him towards the squad car that had somehow appeared behind him without his knowledge. He was forced into the back of the car and the door slammed in his face. He glanced up at his office window, where he should be enjoying a warm coffee, and a scared tear formed in his eye. His friends and colleagues slowly began to turn their backs one by one shaking their heads in disbelief. What did they know that he didn’t? What was the need for this many officers to be on scene? He was just a normal, boring guy going about his daily business. He didn’t particularly want to get up this morning and he was beginning to wish he hadn’t bothered. The warmth of his pillow seemed a million miles away. The front door of the squad car opened and the arresting officer removed his hat before twisting into the car. His piercing blue eyes and bristly mustache stared in the rear-view mirror at Philip. The passenger door swung open, as a second officer entered the vehicle. He was much younger looking and seemed a lot more chipper. Maybe Philip could get an answer out of him? As the car pulled away, Philip felt a lump form in his throat. The officers were making idle chit-chat in front about the game from last night. Philip felt an urge to pipe up and try to join in, but he thought it wise not to antagonise them. Besides, he was still running thoughts through his head at an alarming rate.

***

“Just totally unbelievable!” gasped Hannah, as she sat in the staff room sipping her coffee.

“Well, not totally…” replied John, looking up from his paper nonchalantly.

“Meaning…?” asked Hannah inquisitively. John folded down the paper and took a sip from his mug before replying.

“Well, let’s be honest, he is a bit weird.”

“Yeah, maybe so, but to commit a crime like that is just crazy” answered Hannah.

“Nah, he has always been a weirdo, comes out with all sorts of things. I am not surprised in the slightest” said John rising from his seat and walking out the room. Hannah remained in her seat clutching her warm coffee in both hands. She couldn’t get her head around the scene from this morning and the rumours rumbling around the office. She had been friends with Philip for ages, yes he might be a bit odd, but a murderer? No way!

***

On arrival at the station, Philip was dragged into custody and registered as a criminal. He gave over his personal belongings and made no fuss over being searched. He knew he hadn’t done anything wrong and that the truth would prevail. His mouth dropped when the charging officer read out the charges of murder and manslaughter. He knew being awkward at this point wouldn’t do him any favours in the long run. Anger was not a trait Philip showed. He was a calm, logical person and he kept his wits about him. He tried hard to fight back the hot tears filling his eyes.

The door to his holding cell slammed shut, and for the first time in his life: Philip knew he was in big, big trouble…