When we first married I used to try to buy clothes for Adam until I realised that he would return them or exchange them for something of his own choice. I now realise it was a less than subtle attempt to belittle my choices rather than a dislike of the items themselves. It was another way to undermine my confidence. As a consequence I started to photograph all receipts with my phone and back them up along with other important data. He’s put the nail in his own coffin, ungrateful bastard. I remember photographing the receipt for the handmade trainers, staggered by the obscene amount of the purchase. They’ll be his downfall.
‘I’ll only be five minutes. Promise,’ I answer, trying to quell the shake in my voice. I forward the message and attachments back to Olive and tell her not to let the phone out of her sight this time and then reply to Gary telling him to back up the photos urgently and that I’ll see him tomorrow.
Olive will confirm that she saw the wearer of the trainers leave the murder scene on the night in question. She will tell the police that she photographed their footprints as they sped away. I also have the proof that the shoes belonged to Adam. I finally delete all the messages from my phone, including the photographs, before turning it off.
51
Alexis
I sit tied to a chair in the kitchen. Adam has secured my feet to the metal frame, warning me that any sudden movement might topple the chair and lead to a potentially fatal bang to my head, perhaps against the corner of the working surface or alternatively on the cold marbled floor tiles. He has lit a small candle which is placed on the table beside me and turned off all the other lighting in the house. He doesn’t want anyone to know we’re at home.
‘Cheers,’ he says, offering me a glass of wine to join him in a toast. The thunder and lightning continues its background cacophony of noise and deafens my response. Adam extracts some keys from his pocket. They are those for the patio doors which lead out into the back garden.
‘Have you been looking for these? In case you had plans to change the locks again, I didn’t want to take any chances.’ He proceeds to unlock the doors ‘to let some air through. A bit too hot in here, don’t you think?’ I watch as he cracks open the back door. Another violent streak of lightning flashes overhead.
‘You’re not scared, are you?’ he taunts. ‘You don’t like thunderstorms I seem to remember.’ He glances over his shoulder before turning back to face me.
He forces a filled glass into my hands and curls my fingers roughly round the goblet. ‘Drink,’ he snarls as he pulls my head back and proceeds to pour the Merlot down my throat. ‘Is this what you drank with that bastard? Wine, or did he prefer champagne?’ I can’t breathe and am soon spurting the red liquid in a projectile trajectory across the floor. It looks like darkened blood, as it spurts back up over my clothes.
‘Come on; tell me what was so special about him?’ Adam is up close staring at me, holding the bottle of wine high in the air, checking how much is left in his glass before he pours himself out another full measure.
‘Who?’ I dare to ask, knowing he means Jason.
‘Don’t play with me. Tell me. That fucking dead bastard, Jason Swinton,’ Adam hisses.
‘Nothing. I didn’t know him.’ I try to stay calm, dissipate his anger. I must sound convincing, it’s my only chance. ‘I promise. Nothing happened. I met him for a drink only once, after you were seeing Debbie.’ I manage to resist the urge to scream at him about what a bastard he had been and keep my temper in check, reminding myself that the unknown stranger in front of me murdered Jason, and I’m probably next on the list.
‘I finished with Debbie. I told you, bitch.’ He pushes his face tight up against mine and breathes rancid fumes over me. He prods my chest with his finger. ‘Go on. What’s your excuse?’ I know I should try to logic with him but it seems too late to believe that he’s going to walk away before he’s finished what he’s started. I explode in fury.
‘I met Debbie today at the hospital. She finished with you and showed me her scars. No one wants you, you sick fucker.’ I scream the words. I’ve gone too far. Adam prowls round the kitchen, lifting bottles of wine out of the fridge and putting them back. I conjure up the ghoulish images, reported in the paper, of Jason with his skull smashed in with disfiguring scars across his cheekbones and blood oozing from a severed carotid artery. The injuries had been done by glass from a wine bottle. I cough and vomit more globules of red mess across the floor.
Suddenly a loud noise shatters the night silence. The doorbell rings and someone is stabbing persistently at the button. Adam is by my side in an instant and thrusts his hand over my mouth.
‘Don’t make a sound. I’m warning you or it’s all over.’ I know he means it. As I try to bite through his hand, his grip tightens. ‘Shut up.’
We wait for what seems like an eternity. The bell rings once more before we hear a retreating tread wend its way back down the path. I look at the clock. It’s eleven. Who would have been calling at this hour? Adam is spurred on by the caller, a new urgency about his actions.
‘Did you sleep with him? Was he good in the sack?’
‘How did you find out? Were you following me?’ I play for time. I coax him to listen, to believe me. It’s my only chance.
‘After you changed the locks, I guessed there was someone else. Why would you have been so keen to get rid of me otherwise and not give me a second chance? Most wives forgive their husband the odd one-night stand.’ He has forgotten the bruises and the black eye which he inflicted after my discovery of his affair. ‘I checked your browsing history. I’m not a moron. Join Me seems to have sucked in a sad bunch of losers, you amongst them. It was easy after that. I used your phone when you were in the shower and texted Jason asking him to meet at the empty house for sale in Riverside Close. The prick turned up on cue. You must have been good.’ Adam snarls like a rabid wolf, teeth bared, and paces back and forth.
We are like a lone pair of actors on a stage. I think of Waiting for Godot and know that no one will ever come. The lightning is crackling through the windows but the peels of thunder have moved on, leaving the ragged streaks as an accompaniment to our final act. He is going to kill me. I’ve done nothing wrong except choose the wrong man. My whole life flashes before me in a second.
‘You’re in the frame for murder, Alexis. There’s nothing to link me to the act, so this will be a provoked crime of passion. I’ll tell police that you owned up to murdering your lover when you discovered that he was going out with Susan Harper. You’re a jealous woman, deranged, unhinged. Anyone using that website must have been mad.’
He is completely insane yet he believes what he’s saying. No one would believe I had a motive for murder. If I had invited Jason to meet me in Riverside Close, what possible reason did I have for killing him? We never slept together. I only met him twice. No one can prove otherwise. Adam is going to kill me because he has lost control. He believes what he’s saying and convinced of his own infallibility. He thinks he will be able to con the police.
‘Did you send those stupid texts threatening me? Did they make you feel better calling me names?’ I squirm in my seat. If he is intending to kill me, I must try to reason with him. It’s my only chance. I quieten my voice.
‘Adam.’ I use his name; a long-acknowledged way to entice a suicidal victim back in from the ledge. ‘Adam,’ I repeat, waiting until he turns back towards me. I’m facing the patio doors, looking out into the garden and my assailant has his back to the glass, standing directly in front of me.
All at once, by moving my head ever so slightly to the right, I make out the faintest movement outside. The gate at the end of our garden has been opened and closed and a shadowy figure is creeping across the grass. I have to keep Adam engaged. My life depends on it. He’s gripping the wine bottle and I can see his bony knuckles are white from the effort.
‘You don’t need to kill me. The police will never suspect you because I didn’t really know Jason and you would have had no reason to be jealous.
I only met him because Caroline asked me to trail him. She was suspicious of him having affairs.’ I don’t need to tell Adam that my first meeting was out of curiosity and boredom. I’ll make him think I only browsed the website in a professional capacity, to help with my work for Caroline. A momentary doubt flickers across his face as he considers that I might be telling the truth. He’s wondering if I am and trying to work out in his manic state what he should do. He will have had no idea about my working for Caroline. Perhaps, he’s now considering that I didn’t have a passionate interest in her husband.
‘I don’t believe you. Why would you browse the website if Caroline asked you to trail him? How did you know he was on the site anyway?’ The thoughts swirl round in his brain. ‘You’re lying. Like you always do. Shut up, you little whore. Shut the fuck up.’ As Adam moves up close and starts to raise the bottle high in the air, he yanks my hair back and finally moves round to stand behind me and face the patio doors.
At first I think the thunder is back. A loud crack blasts through the air like cannon fire. Only in the silent aftermath do I realise that it was no act of God but rather the sound of a bullet. Blood spurts have appeared out of nowhere, coating the tiles with slimy red rivulets. In the background I’m aware of the keening wail of a wild animal in pain. I want it to stop but it goes on and on. I put my hands over my ears.
‘It’s okay, dear. Let me help you.’ Bob Thompson has appeared out of the shadows and bends down to untie my ankles from the metal chair frame before he helps me up. ‘The police are on their way.’ Bob leads me to another chair and only when I am sitting down again do I dare to look round.
‘Is he dead?’ I ask.
‘Of course not. What fun would there be in that?’ Bob’s eyes have a wicked twinkle. He’s done this before. ‘I’ve kneecapped him. It’ll shut him up for a while. An old tactic we used in Belfast when we needed information. Bloody painful though.’ He picks his way carefully over Adam who is squirming in agony, although more silently now, and pours me a glass of water.
‘Here. Take this, love, and drink it all up. I can hear the cops outside. It’s over; you’re safe.’ He pats me on the shoulder, reassuringly, before he adds, ‘I wouldn’t make a habit of leaving the back door open though.’ He smiles. ‘Might tempt the wrong sort of person through.’
It’s midnight. Blue lights again flash on and off in the close. Several police cars and an ambulance have arrived. I am led out by the same policewoman who questioned me earlier in the day, WPC Taylor. My eyes wander round the houses and scan the circular enclave. Bedroom lights click on and curtains are twitched back. No one will understand what’s happened. No one will yet connect tonight’s unfolding events with the murder a few days ago. I realise no one really knows their neighbours properly as everyone is too busy with their own self-serving lives.
In this one moment I offer up a prayer of gratitude for the elderly; for the old and infirm who have all the time in the world. Olive and Bob have saved my life and Olive, with all her silent vigils, will help me put my husband away for life. As soon as I left the hospital this evening, she phoned Bob and sent him round. She guessed what was going to happen.
I stand and watch the ambulance drive away, Adam having been stretchered aboard clutching his kneecap and screaming in pain. Two uniformed officers have accompanied him. He’ll not be left alone again. Bob is also being taken away in a police car for questioning and to give his version of events. He gives me a little wave and thumbs up as he is driven off. He wants me to know that I don’t need to worry about him. He’s a soldier after all, an old hand in battle. But I’ll not forget he saved my life. I promise myself that I’ll make it up to the Thompsons. When tomorrow comes, I’ll be there for them.
I finally head back to my own house accompanied by WPC Taylor who needs to take down my version of events while they’re fresh in my mind. She’ll stay with me all night and in the morning she’ll accompany me to the police station to begin formal proceedings.
52
Susan
Three Months Later
Alexis has turned out to be a good friend. I hand her a mug of hot coffee and suggest we sit in the garden. The sun is out and summer is finally trying to break through. I pull over a couple of chairs and a small mosaic-topped table to set our drinks on. I sit down and turn my face up towards the sun, letting it soak through my bones.
‘No, I won’t be going tomorrow. Are you definitely going?’ The geraniums, reds and pinks, sprout vigorously from the pots which I planted no more than a week ago and the lavender which edges the lawn wafts out a calming scent of summer.
‘Yes, I’ve decided to go. Gary’s coming with me and Olive fancies getting out of the house for a couple of hours. We’ll make a merry little band of mourners.’ Alexis sips her coffee, delicate mouthfuls and wipes the top of her lips with slim shapely fingers. I sit on my white veined hands, embarrassed by the ugliness of the tiny brown sunspots that age my skin. It is the curse of my pale Irish colouring, according to Roger.
I miss him and the children so much, a dull ache having lodged itself round my heart. A robin perches on the top of the barbecue which sits, rusted and forlorn, up against the fence. I daren’t look at it or I’ll hear Roger moan about the damp firelighters and the children’s voices impatiently asking every two minutes when the sausages will be done.
‘I’m working hard at winning Roger’s trust back, and getting the children to come home. Going to Jason’s funeral wouldn’t be a wise move,’ I say. ‘I see the For Sale sign is up again on the house next door.’ I change the subject. I don’t want sympathy. I know I’ve messed up but don’t want to dwell on it. It’ll take time but I’m determined to get my family back.
‘So I see. Not sure who’ll want it though. The price has plummeted and Mr Herriott’s no longer so gushing.’ We laugh together, as friends, and lift our mugs in unison. White fluffy clouds glide softly past and for a moment I think it might all turn out okay.
‘How’s Adam getting on?’ I don’t like to pry but it would seem strange if I didn’t ask. The murder has brought Alexis and me together and our inroads into Join Me have cemented our friendship through an unspoken bond of momentary madness.
I like to think that my new friend was as foolish as me but I haven’t dared ask if she slept with Jason. It wouldn’t seem right and anyway I don’t want to hear the answer. I’ll never forget Vince, who for a short period was mine. I’m not prepared to accept that his feelings weren’t real. It was all too real for me.
The sun pops behind a cloud and I shiver as I remember the unbridled lust we shared. I close my eyes and recall the churning stomach, my animal desperation for consummation and the wild abandon that he stirred in me. He may have been playing a game but I don’t want to believe this. It was never meant to last, that was its nature; torrid yet transient.
Roger and the children, Tilly and Noah, are the future. They will last forever. Perhaps it was the forbidden nature of the fruit that made it taste so sweet. I can’t make sense of it all. It’ll be hard to forget but I need to try.
‘I’ve no idea except I know he has been refused bail and I never want to see him again.’ Alexis isn’t going to open up and as I offer her another biscuit, a leftover custard cream from Tilly’s stock of sugary treats, Alexis tells me about her job.
‘Being a private detective sounds great fun.’ I laugh. ‘I need to get a job, show Roger I can change, and perhaps make at least a small contribution to the family purse.’ I don’t tell her, however, that I’ve also promised to repay the money I lent to Jason. Roger didn’t want to talk about it, as the money was the final nail in my coffin when he heard the amounts involved.
We haven’t yet sat down so that I can explain properly. I want the chance to make him understand that the money was a loan to a friend, someone whose company I enjoyed. I’ll never own up to the abandoned sex when handing over money seemed the only way to ensure its continuance. Roger must never see me in the guise of wanton mistress
. I’ll play the naïve gullible card but not the passionate dormant sex devil who remembers, only too vividly, the animal release that Vince gave me. I’ve a lot of work to do but a job might be the best way to start. I’ll check out local sites online, perhaps, later this afternoon. I have enough time now, that’s for certain.
‘You’ll need to employ Olive Thompson. I think she could be Miss Marple in the making,’ I suggest, amused by my moment of levity. It must be the sunshine and the positive ideas that are trickling through.
‘Yes, Olive’s going to help me. I’ll make sure she’s kept up to speed on any new clients. She’s happy working from her front window but has promised she’ll stop logging our comings and goings in the close. I don’t think the neighbours like being watched so intently.’
Perhaps I’ll ask the neighbours round for drinks, start being more sociable and get to know them all a bit better. Roger likes married couple get-togethers, good food washed down by smooth wines augmented by stimulating conversation. It’s so simple really. That’s all Roger has ever really wanted.
I’m scared I might start to cry so I stand up, lift the mugs and wipe the few stray biscuit crumbs onto the ground. The robin hops closer, concentrates on the crumbly offerings, and waits patiently until we’ve gone inside and closed the door. Life carries on as the river of life wends its way inexorably to the sea. I’m through the rapids and must now steer a careful course to get back on track. I’ll prove myself to Roger and hope that he’ll wait and watch for my redemption. He has the patience of a saint.
‘Fancy a walk out the back? Why don’t we stroll along by the river and perhaps put on our trainers and jog part of the way?’ I lock the door and watch through the glass as the robin swoops in for the leftovers, his vigil finally over. His little head moves nervously from side to side as he checks for predators, before he pecks savagely at the crumbs. He then soars away, high up over the fence and disappears heavenwards, safe and free once more.
4 Riverside Close Page 25