The Perfect Couple

by Jackie Kabler

  Mike was back at the table. He’d found a teapot somewhere, and was topping up their mugs with fresh tea, eyes narrowed, listening intently. Devon was gripped too, with a sort of horrified fascination.

  What a story, he thought.

  ‘So, what about the emails Gemma said she had from you in those weeks you were in Bristol? And the photos she said she took of you? How did you get rid of those? Because I assume now it was you who got rid of those? She thought her phone was playing up,’ he said.

  ‘You know what I do for a living,’ said Danny. His face wore a guilty expression. ‘Pretty simple to make those vanish forever. And when I moved out, finally, I did it when Gemma was off on a press trip, so I could clean the whole place with bleach, make sure as much of my DNA and fingerprints as possible were out of there. Make it look like I’d barely been there at all. Then, in the early hours of the morning, Quinn came and picked me and the bike up in his van and drove me to London. Been here ever since.’

  ‘Wow.’ Mike exhaled heavily.

  ‘I know. I’m a feckin’ sneaky little shite, aren’t I?’ Danny looked contrite again. ‘I tell you what though, I didn’t know a serial killer was going to pop up though, did I? That was a shocker. And the fact that the victims kinda looked like me – really weird, that was. Weird, but a gift too, you know? If the guys who were after me thought I was the victim of a serial killer well, great. But then when I saw in the news that Gemma was being questioned not only about me but about those other killings too, well … that was awful. I was really, really sorry about that. Couldn’t make it up.’

  ‘You used the same dating app as at least two of the dead men, did you know that? Elite Hook Ups? EHU?’ said Devon.

  Danny nodded, the guilty look back on his face.

  ‘Yes, I was on that … but those guys using it too? That’s another weird coincidence. Or maybe not, I mean it’s pretty popular these days, thousands of people use it. But still. I didn’t know about that, until Gemma mentioned it to Quinn the other day and he told me. Bizarre. Look, I’m not proud of that. About being married and signing up to a dating site, I mean. As I said before, I wasn’t always a good husband to Gemma. I’ve always struggled to be faithful, not just to her, to all the women I dated before her too. It had got better, recently – I was trying, I really was. I love Gemma, you know? I wanted a future with her, kids, all the normal stuff. But it was like … like an addiction.’

  He ran a hand through his hair, and closed his eyes, shaking his head slowly. Devon didn’t know what to say, and Mike was clearly of a similar mind, so they both sat in silence, waiting for Danny to continue.

  ‘I needed lots of female attention, always have done. Sounds pathetic, but that’s how it is,’ he said finally. ‘So every now and again I’d hook up with someone I met online, no strings. Just sex. Now and again it went a bit too far though. Once I shagged a bird at a party I was at with Gemma … just skipped off to a bedroom for ten minutes when she was chatting to someone else. Sick, eh? Gemma never knew, never even suspected, and it was such a thrill, doing it with so many people just feet away. And this other time, I tried to get off with her friend, Eva. Jesus, that was a mistake. She was having none of it though, and thank God. I wouldn’t have got away with that one, if Gemma had found out.’

  Devon’s eyes had widened at the mention of Eva’s name, and he felt a small surge of satisfaction. So the lovely Eva rejected Danny’s advances? Good.

  ‘Can we just go back to the EHU app for a minute?’ Mike was saying. ‘You used a fake email address. Or an untraceable one, at least? Why?’

  ‘I just used some software to hide my IP address. For privacy, you know? In my situation …’

  Devon’s brain was beginning to hurt.

  ‘OK. OK. There’s a lot to take in here,’ he said.

  With Danny being alive, so much of what they’d assumed about the murders would now need to be looked at again, in a different light, but he knew he couldn’t think about that right now.

  ‘And Quinn?’ he said. ‘Why did he send those messages to Gemma? Did you ask him to do that?’

  Danny looked startled.

  ‘The messages? How do you …?’ He paused. ‘Well, yes, I knew he’d sent some messages. I was planning to finally get out of here next week, you see. False passport, documents, the lot, they’re all ready now. I wanted to reinforce the idea that I was dead, as I said, so that say someone recognized me on a plane or something, nobody would believe them if they reported it, because it would be well documented that my wife was being questioned for killing me. So Quinn said he’d send a few texts, shake things up a bit, make you guys think someone out there knew she’d done something bad to me. But he said he’d use a cheap pay-as-you-go phone, untraceable. Don’t tell me …’

  ‘He screwed up,’ Devon said. ‘Sent the last message from his own phone.’

  ‘SHITE. Feckin’ eejit,’ said Danny. For a moment, he looked furious. Then he shrugged.

  ‘Don’t suppose it matters now, does it? The game’s up. You’re going to arrest me, I assume?’

  Devon nodded. ‘Afraid so, yes. I’m not entirely sure what you’ll be charged with yet – there’s so much to unravel here, but there’s trying to pervert the course of justice, wasting police time, possessing identity documents with improper intention, plus …’

  Danny raised both hands in the air.

  ‘OK, OK! Can I just take a piss first, before we go? Too much tea.’

  ‘Sure. And grab a coat and some shoes too. It’s cold out.’

  ‘OK. And thanks. Both of you. For listening. It was good, for someone to listen, you know? Listen, and not judge. I know I’ve screwed up here, badly. God knows how I’m going to keep us all safe from the nutters who are after me now though. But I guess that’s not your problem.’

  He stood up and walked from the kitchen, and moments later they heard the bathroom door lock. Devon and Mike sat at the table in silence for a few moments, then Mike spoke, his voice a vicious hiss.

  ‘Listen, and not judge? The guy’s delusional. I mean, I understand that he was scared for his life, and he needed to run. But there are ways of doing things. To do what he did, to that poor woman …’

  ‘I know. I know. But sssh, for now.’

  They sat quietly again, both lost in thought. Around them, the small flat was still, the silence broken only by the low hum of the refrigerator and a slow drip-drip from the kitchen tap.

  Shit, thought Devon suddenly. It’s too quiet.

  ‘Mike – quick!’

  ‘What?’ A startled-looking Mike leapt up and followed as Devon ran from the room.

  ‘Danny!’ He rattled at the bathroom door. Nothing,

  ‘OK, stand back. I’m going in.’

  He stepped backwards as far as he could in the narrow hallway then launched himself at the door. It burst open, the flimsy wood cracking, and slammed into the wall behind it. Devon, breathing heavily, rushed into the room, Mike behind him. The room was tiny, the shower cubicle narrow and empty. Over the hand basin, the window was wide open, net curtain blowing gently in the chill night breeze. And Danny was gone.

  Chapter 36

  I tucked my feet up under me on the sofa, pulled the faux fur throw over my knees, then reached for the plate I’d just put down on the coffee table and took a large bite of my Brie and bacon toasted sandwich. The cheese oozed out of the bread, running down my chin, and I wiped it off with my finger and then licked. It tasted divine. At my feet, Albert sat watching me, poised to fling himself on any tiny shred of bacon that might fall from my plate. I peeled a sliver off one rasher and handed it to him, and he wolfed it down noisily then resumed his hungry stare. He’d been brought home to me first thing, having been taken to a local kennels by the police to be cared for while I’d been in custody, and he hadn’t left my side since, other than to gobble down a huge plate of food in the kitchen and then immediately seek me out to beg for more. I rolled my eyes – I was pretty sure the kennels hadn’t been sta
rving him – but I gave him a second helping anyway. I quite fancied double portions of everything myself, so who was I to judge?

  When I’d arrived home the previous night, still feeling slightly dazed as I’d stumbled out of my taxi – is this real? Danny’s alive, and I’m free? – I’d suddenly realized I was starving, and other than during the few hours when I’d succumbed to a deep, dreamless sleep, I hadn’t stopped eating since.

  ‘Making up for the past few weeks,’ Eva had said when I’d spoken to her on the phone earlier. ‘I’ve been worried about you, you’ve hardly been eating a thing.’

  ‘I am now,’ I mumbled, through the mouthful of Mars bar I was chewing. ‘I think I’ve put on half a stone since I got home.’

  Clare and Tai had been round already earlier that morning, having heard about my arrest and subsequent release on the news. They’d arrived laden with bulging carrier bags, and told me they weren’t there to ask questions, just to make sure I was all right.

  ‘We didn’t think you’d have any food in, so we went shopping for you,’ said Tai, as she unpacked the bags on the kitchen table, and my heart swelled; my freedom dinner the previous night had been microwaved fish fingers and chips I’d found in the freezer, the fridge and cupboards virtually empty again. They were so kind, so thoughtful, these women I barely knew, I thought. Friends, proper friends, already, despite the short time we’d been hanging out together.

  ‘And we weren’t a hundred per cent sure what you’d want, but we knew you aren’t veggie or vegan or anything so we just bought a selection,’ added Clare. ‘Essentials, obviously, milk, bread, butter and so on. Some fruit and veg. Cheese, salami, bacon, chicken, smoked salmon. Wine, obviously. Chocolate. And some frozen bits and pieces too. Is it OK?’

  ‘OK? It’s amazing. You’re both amazing,’ I’d said, and hugged them both hard. They left after making me promise we’d all get together very soon for dinner, and then left me to start working my way through my newly stocked cupboards.

  It still seemed surreal to be sitting there, safe on my own sofa, knowing that all the accusations and suspicion that had been swirling around me for weeks had now vanished. The police hadn’t told me much when they’d released me, saying simply that Danny had been found alive and well and had explained his disappearance to them. But when I’d tried to ask for more details, the officer who’d been dispatched to explain to me why I was being allowed to go home had been vague, refusing to tell me where Danny was or whether anyone would be facing any charges in relation to his disappearance.

  ‘Just rest assured that we are no longer considering any criminal charges against you, Mrs O’Connor,’ he had said.

  I still had so many questions – why Danny had felt the need to vanish in the first place, where the blood in the bedroom had come from, why he had behaved so oddly in the run-up to his departure, what was he going to do now? And the little matter of the dating app, of course. But it seemed I’d have to wait for the answers. Eva too was bursting with curiosity.

  ‘We need to find out what happened, this is crazy!’ she said. ‘Surely Danny will get in touch with you now, to explain, now that he knows you know he’s alive? I know they have to respect his privacy but if only they’d given you some idea of where he was, we might be able to track him down. I mean, we don’t even know if he’s still in the UK, do we? And is he in custody, or not? I’m sure he must be facing charges of some sort.’

  ‘No idea,’ I said, and broke another chunk off my chocolate bar.

  ‘And yes, I’m desperate to know exactly what went on too, and what his plans are now. I can only assume they don’t include me, which is still heartbreaking. But for some reason right now I feel sort of OK, you know? Mildly euphoric even. It’s kind of weird – I mean, my husband’s still left me, and is quite possibly seeing someone else, and everything we ever had together has most likely been a lie, and all of that is totally shit, and I should be a sobbing wreck. But … I don’t know, it’s the relief I think. It’s just been so horrible, not knowing whether he’s alive or dead, and then having the police think that I might have had something to do with it all. And with those other murders too. They said that as I clearly didn’t kill Danny, the possibility that I’d killed the other men was no longer being considered either. I guess they’re back to square one on those now. Danny looking so like the murder victims was obviously just some sort of weird coincidence. But honestly, Eva, I don’t care. I’m just not interested anymore. Danny’s alive, and for now that’s enough. Everything else can wait.’

  The article Eva had been asked to write about me – her ‘my friend, the suspected serial killer’ piece – had now been scrapped, and a peek through the lounge curtains early that morning had confirmed what I’d hoped, that the press no longer had any interest in me either. I’d flung the curtains open with a whoop, and as I sat eating my toasted sandwich the midday sunshine streamed in through the window, the clouds like fluffy white candyfloss, the sky cerulean blue.

  I’d been taking, and making, calls all morning, updating friends and family on the rather extraordinary events of the past couple of days. My dad had cried with relief, my mum sobbing too in the background, and even though they, like me and all the others, had questions I couldn’t answer, they were happy to let the mystery remain for now.

  ‘As long as you’re OK, darling. That’s all that matters,’ Dad said.

  I’d decided against ringing Bridget. The police had said they would be informing Danny’s family that he’d been found, and that was good enough for me. If she wanted to speak to me, she could call me, I thought, but I wasn’t expecting to hear from her. She hadn’t seemed to care that Danny was missing, and I was fairly sure she’d be equally disinterested in his reappearance. Strange, cold, horrible woman. When I turned the TV on to see the lunchtime news, there’d been just a brief mention of Danny.

  Avon Police say Danny O’Connor, the thirty-three-year-old man who’d been missing for nearly three weeks, has been found safe and well. It had been feared he might have been another victim of a so-called ‘serial killer’, after two men were murdered in Bristol last month. Two other murders and a serious assault in London are also being linked to the Bristol killings. A woman who was being questioned has now been released without charge. A spokesman said that finding whoever was responsible for the murders remained the force’s highest priority.

  I picked up the remote control and turned the television off. There was so much more I needed to know and, no doubt, so much more heartache still to come. But for now, I was content. Content to sit there, the sunlight pouring into the room, my belly full, my name cleared, my husband alive. It was over.

  Chapter 37

  ‘When we find him, I’m going to throw the bloody book at him.’

  Helena threw an apple core hard at the wastepaper bin next to her desk as if to illustrate that intention. It bounced off the rim and landed on the carpet, and she cursed softly under her breath and bent to pick it up. It was late on Wednesday afternoon, and the team had gathered for an update and to regroup, after the entirely unexpected discovery that Danny O’Connor was not, after all, a murder victim but had been the mastermind behind his own successful disappearance. Successful until the previous day, of course.

  ‘I want him done for perverting the course of justice, for a start.’

  She was scowling, pacing up and down the narrow gap between two rows of desks in the incident room.

  ‘The blood in that bedroom, the little shit … fabricating evidence, letting us think Gemma was a killer … that alone could get him years. Wasting police time … and if he’s got false ID documents too … any news on his whereabouts yet? Or on the whereabouts of his cousin Quinn? I want him too. Coming in here, lying through his teeth to us about Gemma, helping Danny with the whole bloody deception … I want them both, and now. So – any news?’

  ‘No, sadly.’

  ‘Not yet boss.’

  ‘Maybe whoever’s after him’s finally caught up with h
im. Good riddance.’

  The answers came from different parts of the room, and she sighed in frustration. They had an all-ports warning – the bulletin circulated to all international ports and airports which aimed to identify and apprehend a fleeing suspect – out on both Danny and Quinn O’Connor, but so far no sightings had been reported.

  ‘Probably laying low somewhere in the UK,’ said Devon morosely. ‘They’re good at hiding, as we know.’

  Helena stopped pacing and stepped towards him, punching him gently on the shoulder.

  ‘Cheer up, mate. Stop beating yourself up for losing Danny. We’ll get him, one of these days. And in the meantime, we’re back to square one with these murders. We need to get our heads together. Danny and Gemma O’Connor were a distraction that’s taken up far too much of our time, OK? Forget them for now.’

  He sighed.

  ‘Yeah. I know you’re right, but I’m still furious with myself. I’m going for some teas, want one?’

  ‘Please.’

  Helena gave him a wry, sympathetic smile. Letting Danny escape through his bathroom window hadn’t been ideal, but she wasn’t about to take it out on Devon, or on Mike either. These things happened. She was more angry – extremely pissed off in fact – about the fact that the team had wasted so much time looking for Danny and investigating Gemma. There were still some coincidences that were bothering her a little – the physical similarities between Danny and the murder victims, for instance – but she knew she would have to let that go and move on. He wasn’t a victim, and he’d been responsible for his own disappearance. She had more important things to worry about right now; the press, always quick to sniff out a negative story, were back on her case, demanding an official update on what the next step in the so-called serial killer investigation was going to be, now that the prime suspect had been released without charge. She’d wondered briefly about bringing George Dolan, the man who’d claimed to have killed all five men, back into custody, but had almost instantly dismissed the idea. He’d clearly been lying through his teeth, something that was even more obvious now that Danny O’Connor was very much alive despite Dolan’s claims, and her gut told her the hours they’d spent with him had been another complete waste of time. And she couldn’t afford to get it wrong again; she’d already had to deal with yet another irate call from the Detective Chief Super earlier that morning. It had not been a pleasant conversation.