by Rob Sinclair
‘Should you be?’
‘Of course not! What a stupid bloody question.’
‘It was you who raised it.’
My cheeks turn red. I realised I wasn’t winning myself any favours with my reaction to Dani’s questioning.
‘No, of course you’re not a suspect,’ my sister said. ‘This second murder – the victim is completely unrelated to you as far as I can see. It’s the killer who’s the common denominator. But you can’t assume that someone else won’t start digging back through the files from Alice’s murder. And if they spot your omission too, it could still come back to bite you. If that happens, there’s little I can do to help you.’
‘I know that. I wouldn’t expect you to anyway.’
‘But you have to tell me,’ Dani said. ‘Is there anything else I need to know? About Alice? About that night? Anything that could possibly connect Alice to this new victim?’
‘I don’t know this new victim. You said so yourself.’
‘That doesn’t answer my questions.’
I looked away. I couldn’t keep eye contact with my sister any longer. I’d been trying to ride over her words but they were bringing painful memories to the surface, taking me back to the bedroom, back to that horrific night. The sight of Alice splayed on our bed, her dead eyes staring at me. I squeezed my eyes shut, trying to think of something else. Gemma. I thought about her naked body. That didn’t help. Neither did thinking about Gemma upstairs right now and the phone call she should be making. Trying to sort out another in a long list of problems in my life.
Maybe someone should just put me out of my misery once and for all, I thought. I certainly didn’t have the guts to do it myself.
‘Ben?’ Dani said. ‘Is there? Is there anything else you need to tell me?’
I stared blankly at my sister, thinking over the question. The days and weeks after Alice’s death were a blur. Truth be told, I would have a hard time recollecting exactly what statements I’d given back then. But I did know one thing: Dani was right. I’d made a very deliberate effort to leave out Gemma’s name and our relationship from all of the many statements I’d given. The reasons for that were far more complicated than what Dani had alluded to. I really didn’t want to start going into that now.
I heard footsteps on the stairs and looked over at the open doorway to see Gemma descending. My heart jumped at the welcome sight and I willed her to come into the lounge. She looked up as she passed the doorway and it appeared at first that she was about to continue past, down the hallway to the kitchen. But when she made eye contact with me, whatever she saw in my eyes did the trick of drawing her into the room.
‘How’d you get on?’ I asked Gemma, knowing she wouldn’t answer the question but wanting to get away from the painful subject of Alice’s murder.
‘Let’s talk about that after.’
‘Oh. Sure. Okay.’
I looked over and saw an added spark of suspicion in Dani’s eyes but she didn’t say a word.
‘You two still catching up?’ Gemma said, sitting down next to me.
‘Actually, I think we were just about done,’ I said, looking over at Dani.
‘Oh, that was quick,’ Gemma said, her eyes darting over to Dani for confirmation. My sister nodded. ‘You can stick around if you want,’ Gemma added. ‘The kids will be back soon. It would be great for them to see you. You could stay for tea?’
‘No, she’s still working,’ I said. ‘Isn’t that right?’
Dani gave me a less-than-impressed scowl in return, but I could tell she wasn’t going to push the subject any further now that Gemma was back in the room.
‘Yeah, that’s right,’ Dani said. ‘Thanks for the invite, Gemma, but I really do have to get back to it.’ She got to her feet.
‘I hope you’ll be back soon,’ Gemma said with a warm but uncertain smile. ‘It’s about time you two put your differences to one side.’
‘Oh, don’t worry about that,’ Dani said, her gaze fixed on me. ‘You’re going to be seeing plenty more of me.’
And with that, she headed for the door.
CHAPTER 11
‘Were you suspicious about your sister’s sudden reappearance?’ she asked.
‘Of course I was,’ I said. ‘Especially when she started to bring up details about Alice’s murder investigation.’
‘And why exactly did that make you suspicious?’
‘Because I got the distinct impression that Dani knew more than she was letting on. About that new murder. About Alice’s.’
‘How did it make you feel, for Dani to turn up like that, out of the blue?’
How did it make me feel? It was a typical question from her. Everything was always about how I felt and what I thought. How on earth do you answer a question like that, though? Thinking about an event with hindsight is never the same thing as experiencing it at the time. Plus I’d always been a private and in many ways insular person. I was no good at talking about emotions – either my own or those of other people.
It wasn’t that I didn’t empathise with others, or that I wasn’t interested in the impact that I had on other people. Analysing feelings was just such an alien and unnatural process to me. It was the way my brain was wired. Lack of artistic side or something like that. At least that’s the way I always saw it.
I remembered in English literature lessons at school the part I detested most was having to analyse poetry and prose, debating the reasoning for the language used and what the author really meant by his or her words. What image do you think the author was trying to convey with those words, Ben? Errrr, that the sky was blue and it was a windy day. No, Ben. The author was conveying the struggle of slaves trying to free themselves from oppression in post-war America. Bullshit. Not everything has to have a hidden meaning or a deep and thought-provoking premise. Some things just are. Some things just happen, and no amount of analysis after the event can ever truly explain the reasons.
But on the flip side, I had to admit that the more I spoke to this woman, the more benefit I was getting. I’d never opened up about myself in such depth before – not with Alice or Gemma or anyone. The more I talked, the more I let out. Catharsis. I was purging myself.
‘How did it make you feel?’ the woman asked again. ‘When Dani turned up.’
‘It shook me,’ I said, falling back in line and trying my best to think of a full and honest answer. ‘Both in terms of what Dani told me about the second murder, and her questions about what I’d said to the police all those years ago.’
‘Why had you lied to the police?’
‘I didn’t lie. Not exactly.’
‘It was an omission of the truth.’
‘Which isn’t a lie. It doesn’t matter how you try to spin it, I didn’t lie to the police or to anyone else about Gemma. I simply didn’t tell them. How could I when they were in the midst of trying to find Alice’s killer?’
‘You were scared the investigation would focus on you?’
‘Of course I was. I mean, it already had focused on me to some extent. You see that all the time, don’t you? The grieving spouse is always at least considered. So yeah, sure, I didn’t want my name dragged through the mud. It was more than just self-preservation, though. It would have devastated Alice’s parents. They’re Harry’s grandparents, a big part of his life. I’m sure my relationship with them wouldn’t have been so smooth if they’d known I’d been seeing Gemma behind Alice’s back.’
‘So they never knew?’
‘Never. Gemma and I, we didn’t see each other much after Alice was killed. I’m sure you can understand I wasn’t in a great frame of mind at that time. And when we did start seeing each other properly again, we didn’t announce our relationship to our families until many months after.’
‘Was that your decision?’
‘It was a joint decision. It took both of us to make it work. I’m sure the revelation at the time wouldn’t have gone down well from Gemma’s point of view either – with her parents.�
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‘Was another reason for not admitting to the affair that you were ashamed of what you’d done?’
‘Yes, it was,’ I said.
‘Why do you think you felt that way?’
‘I committed a cardinal sin. I had an affair.’
‘Was that out of character for you?’
‘Absolutely. I’ve always been loyal. I’d never had any kind of affair before. When I made the vow to Alice on our wedding day to be faithful for the rest of our lives, I truly meant it. I truly wanted it.’
‘So what happened?’
‘It wasn’t just one thing that happened. I guess life doesn’t always work out as smoothly as you hope. I wanted to be faithful. But I never imagined just how hard marriage would be. How hard it is to keep it working. To keep the passion. Plus we’d had Harry. Having a baby isn’t exactly a relaxing experience. Gemma came along and … it sounds ridiculous, but sleeping with her seemed like the answer to some of my problems.’
‘And what do you think now?’
‘I think the affair was a mistake,’ I said. ‘Plain and simple. I shouldn’t have done it. I should have found the strength to walk away. I didn’t. But my infidelity didn’t take away any of the love I had for Alice.’
‘Isn’t that just an excuse you’re using with the benefit of hindsight?’
‘Maybe.’
‘If Alice hadn’t been killed, what would you have done? Would you have broken it off with Gemma?’
‘I don’t know. I really don’t know.’
‘So these are just excuses then?’
‘Excuses? Yes, of course they are. There are so many pathetic, lame excuses I could give for why I slept with Gemma – the same worn excuses that everyone has heard a thousand times in soap operas and movies and books. The thing is, though, the thing that nobody else knew, was that I’d heard all those excuses before too. From Alice.’
‘From Alice?’
‘Now, I’m not using that as an excuse, I’m just painting the picture of reality here. The cold, hard truth is that Alice cheated too.’
CHAPTER 12
Alice was the love of my life, I’ve always believed that. Yet my relationship with her had been less than perfect for some time before her death. But that’s life, isn’t it? You have to expect that. It’s how you deal with the ups and downs that counts.
Yes, Alice cheated on me. Before I cheated on her. Maybe that had clouded my better judgment. Maybe my being with Gemma had, in the very first instance, had an element of revenge to it. But I believed I had at least partly vindicated myself, given that in the longer term Gemma and I had forged a legitimate relationship despite the shady start to us being together, even if the relationship we forged was at times rocky.
It was Alice’s infidelity, though, not mine that was the start of our downfall. We’d been trying to conceive, but it just wasn’t happening. For months it had been getting us both down. Day by day the distance between us widened.
We’d both been for tests. In many ways I’d hoped there might have been a problem with one of us, some medical cause for our difficulties in getting her pregnant. It would at least have told us what was wrong, perhaps given us some options. We’d talked to each other about IVF, surrogacy, adopting, weighing up our thoughts on each. I was happy to explore any and every option. Alice was more hesitant, but ultimately she desperately wanted children.
In the end all the tests came back negative. According to the doctors we were both perfectly fertile and there was no explanation for why we hadn’t conceived other than bad timing and rotten luck. Which only added to our frustration and contributed to the slow build-up of unspoken resentment.
My job hadn’t helped matters. I’d been working on a large project that had seen me shipped off down to London for the best part of twelve months, during the week at least. Alice was mapping out her menstrual cycle week by week, marking out the days when we had to try, no matter what. Not only had I missed many of those days, but the planned and forced nature of our sex life was beginning to take its toll.
Alice was becoming a sex-crazed beast, a dog on heat, but her almost frantic desire was all about the end goal with little passion left in our brief and deliberate bedroom encounters. And with her increased, albeit forced, appetite for sex, my libido was in gradual decline.
I knew how important conceiving was to her, though. I knew it was important for us, for our relationship and our future. And that was why I told myself I had to stick with her. We had to keep going together. There was no other way.
So when I arrived home from London one Thursday night, a day earlier than expected, I’d been fully expecting not just a warm welcome but a hot one – for Alice to pounce, tear off my clothes and drag me upstairs to our bed; it was, after all, slap bang in the middle of her cycle.
It was a little after eight p.m. and dark out on the chilly autumnal evening. Alice had no idea of my impending arrival but I’d texted her an hour earlier from the train. She’d told me she was already home from work at that point. So when I was greeted by an entirely dark and chillingly cold house, my suspicion was immediately aroused. The fact the house was so cold suggested the heating hadn’t been on since the morning, which meant Alice hadn’t been back after work as she’d claimed.
After sorting the heating out, I went into the lounge, my coat still on to keep me warm, plonked myself on the sofa and mulled over what to do next. Of course, it was possible Alice’s text had been a little white lie. There were countless explanations as to why she hadn’t told the truth. I thought about ringing, or texting her, but I couldn’t decide what to say. Would I come straight out and ask for an explanation? Or would that just start an unnecessary argument?
In the end, I didn’t need to worry. Less than five minutes after I’d got home, I heard the front door opening.
I remained seated. It would surely take only a few seconds for her to realise the lights were on and I was home. I heard the front door being gently pushed shut and a moment later Alice appeared in the lounge doorway. I got to my feet and gave her a beaming smile. I had been away since Sunday afternoon and I was genuinely pleased to see her. But as I strode up to her I saw her face fill not with happiness at my unexpected appearance but with worry.
‘You’re home,’ she said as I wrapped my arms around her and gave her a loving hug. ‘You didn’t tell me.’
‘I wanted to surprise you,’ I said, then planted a long kiss on her soft, sweet lips. She tasted of wine. ‘Surprise!’
She gave a half-laugh and kissed me back, but then quickly backed off. ‘Have you eaten?’ she asked, moving away to take off and hang up her coat.
‘Just a few snacks on the train,’ I said. ‘Could do with something really. Have you? I thought you were home already?’
‘Oh. Yeah,’ she said. ‘It was just … I didn’t want to worry you.’
‘About what?’
‘I’ve just had a really crappy week at work, that’s all. I knew you were under pressure as well. I didn’t want you to worry about me.’
‘So you lied to me?’
‘Yeah, I mean … I guess I didn’t see it as a lie. It’s nothing, Ben. I’m glad you’re back.’ She gave me a smile but it wasn’t convincing. ‘Come on, let’s go and see what we can rustle up.’
Alice turned away and went to walk down the hall toward the kitchen. I grabbed her arm and swung her around, pulled her close to me and wrapped my arms around her.
‘Or maybe,’ I said, kissing her lightly, teasingly, on her neck, ‘we could rustle up something upstairs instead.’
Alice giggled coyly and I carried on kissing her.
‘Or maybe just down here,’ I said. ‘In the lounge. Or on the kitchen table. Hell, let’s do it out in the garden.’
Alice laughed and pushed me away. ‘What’s got into you?’ she said, smiling. But seconds later the anxiety that had shadowed her when she’d first walked in was back.
‘I’ve just missed my wife,’ I said, moving back in for th
e kill.
But Alice put her hand out to stop me.
‘What’s wrong?’ I said.
‘Nothing. I just … I’m just tired.’
‘Come on,’ I said, giving her my best attempt at a sultry look. ‘I’ve not seen you all week. And it’s one of your highlighted days, isn’t it?’
‘Yeah, I know. You’re right, it is. But maybe later? We should eat.’
‘What’s wrong, Alice?’ I snapped, my tone harsher than I’d intended.
‘Nothing’s wrong,’ she responded, frowning. ‘I don’t have to drop my knickers just because you’re horny.’
I tutted and stepped back from her.
‘What’s wrong?’ I repeated.
‘Do we have to do this now?’ she said, trying to sound more placid.
‘Yes, we do. We’re doing this now. Tell me what’s wrong.’
Alice put her head in her hands and let out a long sigh. When she looked back up just a few seconds later, she was welling up with tears. I tried to catch her eye but she averted her gaze and stared straight past me.
‘I think you’d better sit down,’ she said.
CHAPTER 13
Three hours later, I was fast losing all sense of purpose and reality as I drowned my sorrows in a seedy strip club in Birmingham. Of course I knew the alcohol was clouding my better judgment and only making my busy mind angrier and less rational, but in the moment it was the only solution I could see.
‘It was a mistake,’ Alice had said, back at the house. ‘A stupid, horrible mistake.’
I’d already prepared myself for the moment. Everything about the situation had screamed what was to come. Yet the blow when Alice told me she’d slept with someone else the night before had still hit me like a thousand-ton train. I was left entirely numb. No anger, no sadness, no regret, just nothing. At first. But inevitably all those other feelings had quickly surfaced as my mind played over her infidelity.
‘Who is he?’ I snarled.