‘Sort of, but I won’t take offence.’
His cheeks were now glowing. ‘You’ll have to forgive me, I’m always putting my foot in it. Please accept my apologies.’
‘It’s fine,’ she said as casually as her bubbling anger would allow.
If the hotel staff were gossiping about the incident, it was possible the story could leak to the press, and the last thing she and Ben needed was their privacy to be trampled on, particularly as the police still hadn’t officially ruled Ben out of their inquiry.
‘Are you related to the bride or groom?’ the stranger pressed.
‘Bride,’ she said, still not prepared to tell him it was her horrid nightmare he’d just described.
‘How’s she coping? Have they said if or when the husband will be released from prison?’
‘I’m sorry,’ she said abruptly, ‘but I’d rather not talk about it. I think they should just be left to their privacy.’
‘Of course, of course, and far be it for me to be a spreader of idle gossip. Have you known them long?’
The couple in front moved on and the woman behind the counter thanked Alice for her patience and asked how she could help.
‘I’d like to check out please,’ Alice said absently, sliding the key across the desk.
‘You are checking out of the honeymoon suite?’ the receptionist asked.
Alice’s cheeks burned as she nodded, refusing to meet the eye of the suited man who could overhear the entire conversation.
‘How was the wedding? Did everything go as well as you hoped?’
Alice wasn’t ready to even try and answer that question, and simply nodded. ‘It’s a lovely venue.’
‘Was the catering and organization up to scratch?’
Clearly the receptionist hadn’t been working yesterday, and had yet to hear the gossip. Either that or she was doing an incredible job of playing dumb.
‘It was all fine. I’m sorry, can we hurry this up? My husband is waiting for me.’
‘Certainly, madam,’ the receptionist said, standing. ‘I’ll just go and get your receipt and you should be good to go.’ With that she disappeared into the small office behind her.
Alice could see the man straining to make eye contact with her, but she refused to acknowledge him.
He slid a business card across the desk towards her. ‘If you’d like to tell your side of the story, I’m sure we can make it worth your while. Right now, you’ll probably want to throw the offer back in my face, but think about it over the next day or so.’
She looked down at the card for ‘Liam O’Neill, Freelance Journalist’, and felt bile building in the back of her throat. So that’s why he was so interested in the details of the big day. Alice left the card where it was.
‘People will want to hear your story, Alice. I’m sorry if I misled you to begin with. You should know that I’m on your side with this. I don’t really think you knew what your husband was capable of, but to learn about what he’d done on your wedding day, it beggars belief.’ He paused, allowing her to process. ‘The story will get out, as these things do. It’s up to you whether people hear your side of it, or an amalgamation of other eye witness accounts and suppositions. Think about it.’
‘Here’s your receipt,’ the receptionist said, offering the sheet of paper to Alice.
‘All checked out?’ Ben’s voice suddenly said over her shoulder.
Turning, Alice was relieved to see him, and reached for his hand, pulling him closer.
‘Is everything okay?’ he asked. ‘You look like you’ve just seen a ghost.’
She turned back to point out the grubby little journalist, but saw that he had scarpered.
‘It’s nothing,’ she said. ‘Is the car all packed?’
‘Yep, and I even stopped by to speak to your mum, just to reassure her that I’m sorting everything. She wasn’t happy, but she listened to what I had to say. I suggested she come round tonight, unless you’ve changed your mind about the flights.’
The thought of escaping people like Liam O’Neill suddenly sounded very appealing, but then how would it look if she left Ben to face the music alone?
‘Let’s just go home, I’ve got a pounding headache. I feel like everyone is watching us, and I’d rather be somewhere alone.’
He wrapped his arm around her shoulders and led her outside to where the taxi was waiting. Dave, Scott and Abdul were the only guests gathered to wish the bride and groom on their way.
Taking one final look at the venue that had promised so much joy and happiness, Alice wondered whether they had seen the last of Liam O’Neill, or whether he would just be the first in a long line of people wanting a piece of their lives.
THIRTEEN
Silence descended on the car journey through the New Forest, passing wild ponies, donkeys, and tourists making the most of the luscious summer heat. Families sat on picnic blankets, enjoying good food and conversation, while children hunted for frogs and fairies in the undergrowth. The scene was picture-perfect, and Alice couldn’t help but imagine the day when she and Ben would load the car with their own children and head out into the wilds of the countryside.
Despite patches of heavy traffic, they made it back to the village of Chilworth, a stone’s throw from the end of the M3 motorway, inside thirty minutes. A blue saloon car parked in front of the gates to the property greeted them as they turned onto their road. It had no formal markings, but even Alice could tell what profession its driver had.
‘Let’s just keep driving,’ Alice suggested. ‘Let’s not let them ruin another day.’ She meant every word. They could drive past the house and head to her mother’s or one of their friends’ houses – anywhere to keep the wolves at bay for a while longer.
Ben shook his head. ‘We can’t run forever.’ With that he pressed the remote control to open the automatic gates, instructing the taxi driver to go past the blue saloon and continue up the driveway.
To their right, the large house stood in all its glory, the view from the road blocked by the high fence and bushes, looking magnificent and modern as the sun reflected off the large windows. Despite the proximity to the motorway, only the slightest hum of traffic carried on the wind. To the left of the main building stood the brick enclosure housing the near‑Olympic‑size swimming pool and hot tub; to the right, the double garage containing her Audi and his Mercedes. Their bedroom was the largest in the centre of the first floor, with two smaller rooms each side; a sixth bedroom was downstairs towards the rear of the property.
Ben and the driver were first out of the car, and as the bags were removed from the boot, the blue saloon pulled up alongside them. Ben paid the driver and thanked him, waiting until the taxi was through the gates before closing them once more with the remote control.
He turned to Alice and whispered, ‘Why don’t you head inside, and leave me to deal with whoever this is?’
Alice pulled her handbag over her shoulder like a sash. ‘We’ll do this together. We’ll show them we’re united.’
The two plainclothes detectives exited the blue car, lifting their identification into the air.
The woman spoke first. ‘Ben Goodman? I’m DC Vanessa Hazelton, and this is my colleague, DC Wayne McTeal.’
‘What do you want?’ Ben asked defiantly. ‘I told you lot everything I know. I didn’t kill that poor girl.’
‘We’re not here to arrest you, Mr Goodman,’ Hazelton replied. ‘I believe DI Vernon would have informed you we need to collect the clothes you were wearing on Saturday night? That’s what we’re here to do.’
Hazelton had a quiet voice, but there was a determination in the tone that suggested she was used to getting what she wanted. A pretty face, her brown hair was cut short, giving her an androgynous look. If it weren’t for the two bulges in her pink blouse, it would be easy to mistake her for a teenager.
Alice followed Ben and the detectives through the front door. The high ceiling in the grand hall kept the room light and airy, but as the
y moved through to the kitchen, the sun’s rays on the large bifold doors meant the room was obnoxiously warm and stuffy. It had been three days since Alice was here last. Stepping to the panel on the wall, she adjusted the temperature on the thermostat and welcomed the cool rush of air as the ceiling fans kicked in.
Hazelton had followed Alice into the kitchen while Ben had taken McTeal upstairs.
‘Once we have the clothes bagged up, we’ll leave you to enjoy the rest of your weekend,’ Hazelton offered with an empathetic smile. ‘I assume Ben has told you why we took him to the station yesterday?’
‘Of course. We don’t keep secrets.’
Hazelton’s face remained passive.
‘He didn’t do it, you know,’ Alice suddenly blurted. ‘He told me he didn’t and I believe him.’
‘I’m in no position to disagree, Mrs Goodman.’
The comment threw Alice. ‘You don’t think he did it either?’
‘I’m not paid to have an opinion. I just follow the evidence. With all due respect, Mrs Goodman, a young woman has been brutally murdered. Whomever was responsible is still out there, somewhere on the streets evading justice. He – or she – needs to be brought to justice, and before they do it again. Our only priority is finding this individual. Imagine if she was your best friend: wouldn’t you want us to do everything in our power to find her killer?’
Alice sipped her water but remained quiet.
Hazelton moved across to the bifold doors, staring out. ‘You have a beautiful garden. How far back does it stretch? Sixty feet?’
‘Something like that,’ Alice sighed.
‘Is this your own work or do you have a gardener?’ Hazelton continued, pointing at the raised flowerbed that ran the length of the lawn on the left side.
‘A gardener tends to it once a week. I’m not green-fingered.’
‘Nor me,’ Hazelton smiled. ‘I live in a third-storey flat, and whenever my mum brings over a houseplant, it never lasts more than a month. Sometimes I don’t know why she bothers.’
‘Are you from Southampton?’
‘No, I’m based in Bournemouth, but the inquiry is being led by the Major Crimes Team here in Southampton, so a small group of us are here supporting.’ She paused. ‘It isn’t my place to say, but I’m sorry that the arrest was so public. Ordinarily, someone would have had a quiet word and been more discreet; I don’t know why DI Vernon made such a big fuss.’
Ben appeared in the kitchen, McTeal following behind, holding a large sealed bag and wearing blue protective gloves.
‘Did you get it?’ Hazelton asked him.
McTeal lifted the bag and nodded.
‘You won’t find anything on the clothes as they’ve been cleaned,’ Ben warned. ‘If I’d known I would need to prove my innocence, I would have left them unwashed.’
Hazelton approached him, meeting his stare. ‘That’s all right, Mr Goodman, you’d be surprised at how difficult it is to remove the telltale signs of blood. We’ll have our forensic specialists review the clothing and let you know the results. Of course, these could be key to ruling you out of our investigation. Let’s hope so, hey?’
‘They will,’ Ben replied curtly, before following them back to the front door and showing them out.
FOURTEEN
A long soak in the bathtub was exactly what Alice needed. Something DC Hazelton had said had stuck with her: what if it was her best friend who’d been brutally murdered? Wouldn’t she give anything to see the killer caught and punished? Would she really care how many innocent people were arrested along the way?
Ben had said he would phone the holiday and travel insurance companies and explain the situation, to see if anything could be done to reclaim any of the payment they’d made, but he hadn’t sounded hopeful as he’d reached for the phone.
As the temperature of the water cooled, Alice climbed out of the tub and returned to the bedroom, drying herself with a towel before dressing. Their bedroom faced out to the garden, but she’d closed the curtains when the bath had been filling. Heading to their shared wardrobe, she pulled out a fresh summer dress to wear, thinking they would just order takeaway from the local Chinese restaurant for dinner. They should have been at the airport getting ready to check-in now, and she wasn’t sure what food was in the house. Spotting Ben outside on the decking with a bottle of beer in his hand, she saw Dave nursing a bottle in a chair to his right.
‘Dave’s just come from the police station,’ Ben explained, as Alice joined them outside in the warmth. ‘Tell her what you told me.’
Dave put the bottle to his lips and took a long swig, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand. ‘The solicitor reckons they’re clutching at straws. They pulled Ben in on account of the DNA, but had it not been there they’d be clueless. They’ve put some hotshot detective inspector in charge; he’s the one who made the arrest. I overheard one of them say he’s made some promise to his boss that he’ll nail the killer within forty-eight hours, but they’re nowhere near.’
Alice still wasn’t happy that Ben’s DNA had been so readily available to the detective in charge, and she still didn’t really know what he’d been charged with the first time around. It wasn’t fair to put Dave in the awkward position of hearing her ask Ben now, but she would demand the truth as soon as Dave was gone.
‘I told them where the bar was, and how Abdul had arranged for us to be there,’ Dave continued. ‘Gave them the names of all those who were there and a detailed timeline of what we did and when. They’re planning to scour the area for signs of blood or a struggle or something. They’re hoping the incident might have been captured on CCTV, but I told them I don’t remember seeing much in the way of cameras where we were.’
‘I don’t understand why they can’t return Ben’s passport,’ Alice said.
‘I guess they have to rule him out completely before they can give it back. I only stopped by to see if there’s anything the two of you need,’ Dave said. ‘You know I’m there for you – both of you – and if there’s anything you want or need, please just let me know.’
‘Cheers, man,’ Ben said, shaking his hand. ‘Appreciate it. Can you send me over the copies of the pictures from that weekend? You know, the ones you shared with the police? I’ll forward them onto the solicitor.’
Dave pulled out his phone and began to tap at the screen.
‘Pictures?’ Alice asked. ‘Can I have a look?’
Dave fired a nervous glance at Ben.
‘It’s all right,’ Ben confirmed. ‘I’ve told Alice exactly what happened. She knows everything.’
Shrugging, Dave handed over the phone, opened on the photos app. Alice stared at the screen, an image of Ben and Dave looking worse for wear in the back of a taxi. The next three images were of the group of men laughing and messing about, empty shot glasses in the background. Then a picture of a woman in a miniskirt and black leather jacket appeared on the screen, and Alice nearly dropped the phone.
‘Is this her? Is this Kerry Valentine?’ Alice asked.
Dave nodded grimly. ‘It’s hard to imagine that only hours after this picture was taken, she was dead.’
Alice studied the photograph. Kerry Valentine was exactly as Ben had described: a petite blonde who looked like she should still be in college, though her face also bore the strain of someone who had suffered more than her fair share of knocks over the years. Alice was certain she hadn’t seen the face among those she’d searched for online last night, but the image on Dave’s phone was grainy.
Alice frowned as a thought stirred. ‘How do you know she died only hours after the photograph?’
Dave’s eyes narrowed. ‘That’s what one of the detectives said. Reckoned they knew for certain that she’d been dead for several days, though they didn’t confirm if she died on Saturday night or Sunday. The victim was still wearing the clothes she had on in that picture apparently.’
Alice continued to scroll through the photos of Kerry in various stages of undress; and the ones of
Ben licking the cream from her body made Alice want to gag as the images seared on her memory. The next picture had been captured outside; Ben’s trousers were down around his ankles and his shirt was unfastened, his arms draped around a lamppost. This was followed by a shot of the rest of the group, laughing at Ben’s predicament. Then there was a second shot of Ben at the lamppost, but this time he was sitting on the floor, his head bent low, like he was sleeping.
‘That’s the one I took when we got back from the off-licence,’ Dave explained, pointing at the screen. ‘That was the only time we weren’t together all night. Which is what I told the police.’
Ben stood, his bottle now empty. ‘You want another?’
Dave shook his head. ‘I’d better not, I’m driving. Also, I’d better check on Abdul, his boss is probably gonna give him shit about letting us use the venue. Besides, I should probably get out of your hair. The last thing you two need is me hanging around as some third wheel.’
‘Wait, don’t go yet,’ Ben said, retaking his seat. ‘There was something else I wanted to run past you. The detective who interviewed me at the station wanted to know if anyone might have it in for me. Asked if I have any enemies, or whether anyone had made any threats.’
Dave frowned. ‘Yeah they asked me the same thing. I said I didn’t know, that nothing sprang to mind. What did you say?’
‘The same thing, but it got me wondering whether anyone could be trying to set me up to take the fall for this. I do business with several multimillion pound companies, and my competitors can be pretty ruthless. What if one of them followed us to Bournemouth and attacked Kerry, knowing the police would tie us lot back to it?’
‘You want me to ask around?’ Dave asked gruffly.
‘Please. I’m probably just being paranoid, but I’d like to know for sure. Kick over some stones and see what you find out.’
Till Death Do Us Part Page 7
