Till Death Do Us Part

by Stephen Edger

  He stared into her eyes. ‘On my life. What do these letters say?’

  She couldn’t recall the exact words of the two letters, and without her phone, she couldn’t show him an image either. ‘Basically, they’re addressed to me, stating Ben is a killer and that he will kill again.’

  O’Neill’s shoulders tensed. ‘What does Ben say about them?’

  ‘He says they’ve been sent by someone looking to set him up for something he hasn’t done. You know the police have cleared him of any involvement in the murder of Kerry Valentine, right?’

  O’Neill looked surprised by the news. ‘I didn’t know that. They examined his clothes?’

  ‘Apparently so. From what the others said, they stripped him of his clothes before Kerry started dancing, so the only way her DNA would be on his clothes is if he’d seen her again afterwards. Their tests confirm that didn’t happen.’

  ‘I won’t say I’m not surprised.’

  She looked down at the wedding band Ben had placed so delicately on her finger only three days earlier, and thought about the vows they’d exchanged. Was she betraying those vows by hearing what O’Neill had to say? Her fingertips brushed Ben’s grandmother’s ring.

  ‘I saw an image of Mary wearing this ring as well. What can you tell me about her? Were they in love?’

  ‘Mary was thirty-three when she first met Ben. He was eighteen, but she was absolutely captivated by him. I don’t know if you’ve seen images of him at that age, but he looked older than he was. I remember, back in school he was one of those kids who managed to buy beer and cheap spirits when he was only fifteen, whereas I was still being asked for ID when I was in my twenties. I don’t think she realized just how young he was at first. They met at a music festival and she fell hard for him. Being that bit older, she was ready to settle down, get married and start a family. While he told her he wanted those things too, as their romance blossomed she always sensed he was stringing her along, waiting for something better.’

  O’Neill lowered his window and lit a cigarette, keeping one hand on the steering wheel. ‘It was a whirlwind romance. Three months after they met, he moved in with her and they were talking about getting engaged. That ring you’re wearing there, she had that at one point. He gave it to her as a symbol of his love. He said it had been his grandmother’s and he wanted her to have it as a sign of his feelings. She kidded herself that her doubts were just paranoia.

  ‘He would come home at all hours – going out with his mates, he said – but his clothes would smell of other girls’ perfume. It soon became clear he was using her. He was having a gap year from university, but made no effort to get a job or travel abroad. He lived at her place, borrowed money he never repaid, and used her place as a doss house.

  ‘One night, she confronted him about it, and she saw a darkness emerge that she’d never witnessed before. He wasn’t violent with her, but he threw several pieces of crockery at the walls, and tore her flat to shreds. Hundreds of pounds’ worth of damage. She was terrified, but like most victims of domestic abuse, she forgave him as soon as he apologized and promised it wouldn’t happen again. She was naive.’

  FORTY-ONE

  The Honda pulled off the road onto a narrow farm track. The rain and clouds had cleared in this part of Hampshire’s New Forest, and a fading rainbow was now evident on the horizon. Alice felt far from relaxed. The smell of farm animals had been present in the air for the past ten minutes, and although she had a vague idea of where they were, she wasn’t certain she’d be able to find her way back to the main road unaided.

  O’Neill had spent the remainder of the trip telling her about the passionate and extreme relationship Mary and Ben had shared, but every time she asked questions about Ben being guilty of murder, O’Neill quickly changed the subject, or assured her that she’d get all the answers she needed soon enough.

  ‘We’re here,’ he commented, killing the engine.

  Through the windscreen she could see a large barn filled with stacks of hay, and beyond that large green hills populated by sheep, cows and ponies. Alice was a city girl through and through, and couldn’t ever imagine herself in the cut and thrust of an agricultural lifestyle. The grazing hills were surrounded by lines of dense forest separating the land from the neighbouring farms. There was no sound of cars or people, and only the occasional moo disturbed the silence: it was too quiet for her liking.

  ‘It’s this way,’ O’Neill muttered under his breath, leading them away from the car and barn.

  It was then that Alice clocked the medium-sized detached farmhouse. Made of stone and slate, the thatched roof looked dry and aged.

  As soon as they stepped through the rickety old door, Alice realized exactly who they’d come to see. Although much older than she’d appeared in the photographs, the necklace still hung around the woman’s neck.

  O’Neill kissed Mary’s cheek before turning and introducing Alice.

  ‘She knows who you are,’ he told Mary, ‘but not what you know.’

  Mary had to be in her early fifties. The skin beneath her eyes was tired and there were splashes of grey in her once auburn hair, but she still had a slight frame. She was wearing a yellow floral dress with sleeves that stopped at her elbows. There was a fresh pot of tea on the table, along with three cups and saucers and a plate of chocolate biscuits.

  ‘Please sit,’ Mary said, her voice thick with an Irish accent Alice hadn’t expected.

  The wooden table was big enough for four, and had that well-used look – scratches in the paintwork where plates and cutlery had been scraped and deposited. Alice pulled out one of the tall varnished chairs and sat delicately, sending a small cloud of dust into the air.

  ‘Would you like a cup of tea?’ Mary asked, lifting the pot.

  ‘Thank you,’ Alice said, her throat suddenly feeling dry.

  ‘Help yourself to a bickie too,’ Mary added as she filled one of the cups. ‘There’s milk in the urn.’

  Alice reached for the cup and saucer before pouring a shot of milk from the silver jug. Mary was at the opposite end of the table with O’Neill sitting between them. He reached for one of the biscuits and offered the plate to Alice, who politely declined. Her appetite was yet to return.

  Mary finished filling the cups and then took a sip of her black tea. ‘You’re just his type, you know. Pretty and petite; it’s how he likes them.’ She smiled to show she wasn’t passing judgement. ‘I suppose you’re wondering why Liam brought you all this way.’

  Alice nodded.

  ‘I take it you know Ben and I were once—’

  ‘Engaged?’ Alice interrupted.

  Mary smiled at some memory. ‘A little more than that, actually. We were married for a time.’

  Alice’s heart sank.

  How could Ben have been married before and never told her? Neither of them had wanted a church wedding, because neither of them had religious inclinations, but surely he would have had to confirm to the registrar if he’d been married before, wouldn’t he? She had no recollection of any such conversation, and he had certainly never told her that their marriage was his second. All of a sudden it felt like he wasn’t quite hers any more. She’d thought their marriage was a new experience for them both, and although it didn’t ultimately matter, she couldn’t ignore the pain in her heart knowing all those new experiences weren’t new to him.

  ‘He was young and impetuous,’ Mary continued, again smiling, ‘and I was smitten enough to believe I could change him. I can see from the paleness of your face that he never told you he was married before. I’m sorry if what I have to say causes you any pain; you’re a victim in all of this, just as I was.’

  Alice sipped her tea. ‘I want you to tell me why I’m here.’

  Mary looked over at O’Neill, who gave a reassuring nod while reaching for a second biscuit.

  ‘Ben was …’ she began, before thinking better of it. ‘Ben and I were in love, at least I was in love with him. Looking back on it, I think he was to
o young to know what love was, not really. He cared for me, I have no doubt of that, but I think maybe I expected too much of him. When I remember the good times we shared, my heart still skips a beat, but when I remember the pain and anguish he brought, I hate myself for ever allowing him through my door. You must understand that my motive for sharing this with you is not to ruin what you have but to help you understand the man you fell in love with – the real Ben.’

  Alice looked around the small kitchen. There was an Aga in one corner, a stone sink and a tall refrigerator tucked behind the door to the rest of the house. It was comfortable for one, but any more would cause strain.

  ‘Are you the reason the police had Ben’s DNA?’ Alice asked abruptly. ‘He told me there was a misunderstanding with an ex; was that you? Was he violent?’

  Mary considered the question. ‘His temper could be scary, but no he was never violent towards me. If he had been, maybe the police would have taken me more seriously.’

  ‘Please just tell me whatever it is you have to say. I’ve been out for forty minutes already and Ben will be worrying about me.’

  ‘You can phone and let him know you’re safe,’ Mary offered, nodding at the antique spin‑dial phone hanging on the kitchen wall. ‘I don’t mind if you want to tell him where you are.’

  Alice eyed the phone, but shook her head. How could she explain she’d driven off with O’Neill after the earlier exchange? How could she tell him she was having a tête-à-tête with his ex-wife?

  ‘Very well,’ Mary continued, adding milk to her tea and stirring it. ‘Eighteen years ago I walked into a police station and I reported that Ben had murdered my mother.’

  Alice blinked several times.

  ‘The police officer gave me the same look,’ Mary said. ‘He thought I was just reacting to my grief following her recent passing, but there was more to it than that. Yes, she was frail and in her late seventies, but she didn’t die of natural causes. The coroner recorded an open death because he couldn’t conclusively say whether she’d suffered a heart attack before she fell down the stairs or as a result of it. And I knew what Ben stood to gain from her death.’

  Alice could feel bile bubbling at the back of her throat and choked it down.

  ‘One month before my mother’s unexpected death, your husband arranged for a new life assurance policy to be prepared in her name. She underwent various medical tests before the company would agree to insure her, but all her test results came back with flying colours. She was fitter than most women her age. There was no sign of any potential coronary issues. Yet, as soon as the ink was dry on the policy, she suddenly takes a tumble and was dead before she reached the hospital.’

  Alice frowned. ‘What are you saying? You think Ben pushed your mother down the stairs?’

  Mary’s face remained expressionless, but she nodded. ‘That’s precisely what I’m saying. He knew what he was doing. He wanted to go to university and pay off his debts, and having married me he would be legally entitled to half of anything my mother left in her will, including the hundred thousand pound life assurance claim.’

  ‘I’m surprised she found an insurance company willing to cover someone of that age,’ O’Neill added, ‘but I’ve seen the policy documents. The original application is in Ben’s handwriting; we had an expert look at it. The only parts not in his writing are the signatures, but it would have been easy enough for him to trick her into signing something she didn’t understand.’

  ‘Ben always had the gift of the gab,’ Mary confirmed. ‘He could charm the hind legs off a donkey, so he could.’

  Alice couldn’t disagree that Ben was a confident and charming speaker, and knew how to get what he wanted, but she couldn’t picture him deliberately taking advantage of an older person and then killing them for quick cash. He was many things, but not that.

  ‘I don’t blame you for not believing me,’ Mary continued. ‘I can see how much you love him, and I don’t blame you for wanting to defend him. I used to feel the exact same way, but now I know it’s all just a mask. I’m not sure anyone knows the real Ben. Apart from Dave of course. I take it they’re still thick as thieves?’

  Alice recalled how close Dave and Mary had looked in some of the photographs in Ben’s box. ‘How do you know Dave?’

  Mary fired a look at O’Neill. ‘You didn’t tell her about that?’

  He shrugged apologetically. ‘I promised no spoilers.’

  Mary topped up their drinks. ‘Towards the end, when Ben was off with his floozies, I found it hard to live with. I’d come to accept that what we’d had was infatuation rather than love, and that he’d been too young to get married. I selfishly wanted to get revenge on him for cheating on me. So I hatched a plan out of spite to seduce his best friend. Only things didn’t quite work out like that, and Dave soon became my confidant. My first impression of Dave was that he was a little rough around the edges, but as I got to know him, I realized he’s just a sheep in wolf’s clothing. He loves Ben, and I know it killed him to do the dirty, but the more time we spent together, the closer Dave and I became. Until one night, Ben returned early, having been in a fight. Although Dave and I weren’t in bed when Ben turned up, it didn’t take him long to realize what had been going on.

  ‘I was more than happy to come clean, to wipe the smirk from his face, but do you know what he did? He laughed at the both of us and ribbed Dave about going after his sloppy seconds. That’s how he described the woman he’d married. He walked out of my flat and didn’t return until he filed divorce papers. That wasn’t until after he’d wormed his way into my mother’s home and bumped her off.’

  Alice didn’t want to listen to any more, but she found it impossible to stand and walk away. If Mary’s version of events was true, then how could Ben’s and Dave’s relationship have survived that kind of betrayal? She’d seen them together so many times and neither had ever mentioned anything like that.

  ‘I reached out to Dave when I realized what Ben had been up to, but he refused to return my calls. Despite everything, the two of them remained close friends, and I was painted as the jealous and desperate wife. It broke my heart seeing how wrong I’d been about the two of them. In hindsight I now wonder whether they were in it together from the start, and that Dave only slept with me to keep me off Ben’s back about the late nights.’

  It was like Mary was describing someone else. Ben had always been a character, but surely he wasn’t capable of something so vicious and manipulative.

  ‘What happened with the life assurance money?’ Alice asked quietly, not sure she wanted to hear the answer.

  ‘The insurance company paid out,’ Mary continued. ‘Some of it was used to pay solicitor’s fees and funeral costs, and the rest was deposited in my account. In his divorce request, Ben cited my affair with Dave as grounds for divorce, and when Dave made a formal statement to confirm what had happened between us, there was little I could do to dispute it. He walked away from our marriage with thirty-five thousand pounds, and headed to university a few months later. I was devastated and never wanted to see him again, and apart from the occasional search of his name online, I’ve stuck to that promise.’

  Mary reached for a tissue and dabbed the corner of her eyes. ‘When I heard he’d been arrested in connection with a young woman’s death though, I knew it was time to break my silence. That’s when I contacted the newspaper. As soon as I spoke to Liam, I knew I’d made the right choice.’

  The lines on Alice’s forehead deepened. ‘I don’t understand. Your mother’s death has no connection to what happened to Kerry Valentine. He didn’t know her before that night.’

  ‘Maybe not, but I bet you assume he’s innocent because he couldn’t be a killer. Well, I’m telling you not only is he capable of it, he’s done it before and got away with it. The police pressed charges, but a jury of his peers found him not guilty. I know what really happened though and so does he. Your husband is not the innocent man he pretends to be. Don’t let yourself be his next
victim.’

  FORTY-TWO

  Alice was still reeling as O’Neill meandered the Honda back along the road. They’d be back in Chilworth soon, but Alice’s mind was spinning as her world crumbled before her eyes.

  Ben a killer?

  It was impossible, wasn’t it?

  The Ben she’d met and fallen for was sweet and kind, someone who tried to make her every day better than the one before. The man Mary had described was cold, manipulative and calculating. If it hadn’t been for the photographs she’d discovered, she would have argued they were talking about someone else.

  What made it worse was that Alice had no doubt that Mary and O’Neill believed every word they’d told her. Alice had spent half an hour questioning Mary, phrasing questions in different ways in an effort to trigger different responses, but the older woman had stuck to her story, and hadn’t swayed once from the script.

  If Ben had displayed any of the traits they had described in front of Alice, she never would have married him. Was it not possible they had misinterpreted his youthful actions and shaped those memories with the bitterness both felt towards the man who had chewed up and spat them out?

  How could Alice trust the words of a woman who felt she’d been used and cheated on? Or a man whose formative years had been negatively impacted by name-calling and sparring? Both Mary and O’Neill had motives for wanting to paint Ben in a bad light, and neither could deny the pleasure they would get from seeing Ben exposed to karma.

  Neither had any hard proof that Ben had done anything wrong. It was certainly suspicious that his handwriting was discovered on the life assurance application form, but that didn’t mean he had tricked Mary’s mother into signing something she didn’t want to sign.

  Mary had gone on to explain how Ben had been in possession of one of two spare keys to her mother’s property, with the other held by Mary.

  ‘He had the opportunity,’ she’d told her.

  Mary’s mother was discovered by a community nurse who had called round to drop off a prescription. She’d been dead at the bottom of the stairs for at least fifteen hours when she was found, according to the forensic pathologist who had examined her body. There were no signs of a struggle, and a patch of bruising around her ankle was consistent with a twist, which could have led to a fall. It could just as easily have occurred as a result of the fall though, and so an open verdict had been recorded.