Framed: Part I

Helena was at the police station, talking to officers Mahone and Jerome, when officer Perera walked in. She panicked, and hid under the table as she pleaded with them not to let him see her.

“Okay, okay, don't worry,” Mahone said as he walked out with Jerome and pulled officer Perera away, talking about some cases.

Helena slowly crept out of the room and rushed towards the entrance. She let out a sigh of relief as she drove off. She had asked Mahone and Jerome not to tell her husband that she came over and spoke to them, but to inform him that they got calls from neighbors about a woman screaming and pleading not to be beaten while a man was shouting at her in abusive language and threatening to kill her if she didn't shut up.

“I hope they’ll do what I said; I’ll be dead if not.”

Officers Mahone and Jerome explained to officer Perera that there were complaints from his neighbors about public disturbance. They said that the neighbors had complained about him coming drunk every evening and beating and threatening to kill his wife—and that his wife had been seen the next morning with heavy clothes, including a scarf, even though it was the middle of Summer. But Perera didn’t buy their story.

“It was Helena, wasn’t it? She came here with a stupid sob story, and you bought into it, am I right?”

“She had scars all over her body and looked as if she had been in a car crash. She didn't lodge an entry; she just asked us to talk to you. The woman is in fear for her life, and with good reason,” Jerome said. “How can you treat your wife in that manner? I’ve noticed that you have a drinking problem. Get some help before you kill that poor woman.”

“Stop interfering in my family matters! I’ll take care of my wife as I please!” he said, walking out.

“Where are you going? Are you going home to beat her up for seeking help? If something happens to her, we’re going to have to inform the boss about you,” Mahone said.

Perera looked at him with rage in his eyes. “Why are you two so concerned about my wife? Is there something I need to know?”

“Don’t you dare turn this on us! We’re your friends and all we are trying is to help you both!” Jerome replied.

Perera went back to his desk and stared at them for a few seconds before resuming his work. The day went by, and come evening, Helena was trembling in fear at the thought of her angry husband's arrival.

‘What if he suspects that I was the one who spoke to the officers? What shall I do? I can't run away… He’ll find me like he did before.’

Moments later, Perera walked in with an angry look on his face. She trembled in fear at his fury.

“George… Y—you're early…” she stammered, forcing a smile.

“Yes, I am. Why, were you expecting someone else? Perhaps one of your boyfriends from the police station? You did go all the way there to complain about me, after all. Have you forgotten that I'm the man of the house? You do as I say!” he said, pulling out his belt and beating her repeatedly.

“No, please! I'm sorry, I'll do as you say! I won't go to the police station or talk to anyone again. Please, don't hit me!” Helena cried, holding out her hands.

“You better, or next time, I'll kill you! You go anywhere near the police station and I’ll kill you; you try to get away from me, I'll kill you! You do remember what happened to you the last time you tried to leave, right? This time, I’ll cut you into pieces and feed you to the fish!” he said, continuing to beat her.

After a few minutes passed, he walked away, leaving Helena bleeding on the floor. The following morning, a phone at the police station rang; and as an officer answered, a man said: “I'm Mr. Silva, officer Perera’s neighbor. There was a lot of screaming coming from officer Perera's house last night, and now, he's asleep on the porch chair, in bloody clothes.”

Moments later, two police cars arrived at Perera's house. Officers Jerome and Mahone got out, along with two others. Mahone reached out and checked Perera’s vitals. “He's not dead; just passed out.”

“He reeks like a tavern,” Jerome said, slapping Perera awake.

“How dare you, you bitch! Are you asking for another beating?” he yelled, grabbing Jerome's hand.

“George, it’s Jerome!” he replied, pulling his hand away.

“Guys, what are you doing here?” Perera asked, getting to his feet.

“Is that how you treat your wife? And is this her blood?”

“What? No, I must’ve cut myself.”

“Check the house,” Mahone said.

“What’s going on?”

“We’re checking to see if your wife is alive. There was a call about screams coming from your house.”

“Who called you?”

“You stay here, where I can see you.”

“I'm an officer of the law, same as you. Show me some respect!”

Mahone was irritated, but before he could reply, the cops inspecting the house walked out the door.

“It doesn’t look good, sir,” one of them said.

“What doesn’t look good?” Perera asked.

“Keep an eye on him,” Mahone told Jerome, stepping inside.

A few minutes later, Mahone walked out the door. “Where’s the body, George?”

“What body? What are you talking about?”

“Helena’s body. Where is it?”

“What? I didn’t kill her!”

“Your clothes, and the blood on the kitchen floor, say otherwise.”

“That’s not possible; I didn't kill her!”

“Okay, that’s it; you’re under arrest,” Jerome said.

“I'm telling the truth! Come on, guys, I wouldn’t kill my wife!”

“Yes, we all saw your love for her in her scars. We should have arrested you sooner.”

“Wait, I went hunting last evening. The blood must be from the wild boar I killed.”

“So, where’s your wife, then?”

“I don't know… She must’ve gone to her sister’s place.”

“Then what about the bloody knife we found on the kitchen floor? And what about her belongings that are still inside the house? Would she have run off to her sister’s place without her purse and ID?”

“You’re making a mistake!”

“That’s for the jury to decide.”

To be continued...