Till Death Do Us Part

by Stephen Edger

  Alice suddenly looked at the time. Nearly two, but her phone was in the boot and she had no idea whether Ben had called or messaged to say he was done at the office.

  ‘Shit! I didn’t realize it was so late. You’re right, I’d better get home. Thank you for today. I know I stopped you getting work done but I really appreciate you being there.’

  Tara hugged her tightly. ‘Promise me you won’t go speaking to the police without discussing it with Ben first. Try to do something to take your mind off this murder business. Remember, there’s nothing you can do to help that girl or her son now.’

  Tara opened the Audi’s door and climbed out, waving as she closed it. Alice was about to pull away when a sudden tapping on the window startled her. Looking up she saw Andrew’s big smiling face staring back at her through the closed window, a filled baguette in his hand.

  ‘I thought I recognized your car,’ he said, as she lowered the glass. ‘Are you coming or going?’

  ‘Going,’ Alice said. ‘I was just dropping off Tara.’

  ‘That’s too bad,’ Andrew said, resting his arm on the window frame, the smell of tobacco now permeating the interior of the car. ‘I was going to offer to split my sandwich with you. Have you eaten?’

  ‘It’s kind of you to offer,’ she said politely, ‘but I’m meeting Ben for lunch.’

  ‘Of course you are,’ he said, unable to keep the disappointment from his voice. ‘Have you got five minutes though? Do you remember that old friend I mentioned to you? The one I bumped into at bird watching? Well, the thing is … I asked her if she’d like to go out for something to eat with me, and … I haven’t heard back from her. It’s been a couple of days, and I’m sure she will have heard my message by now, and I’m worried I might have overstepped the mark.’

  Alice applied the handbrake but left the engine running. ‘Andrew, you’re too hard on yourself. You’re a lovely person, very kind and affectionate, and she’ll probably be back in touch before you know it.’

  Alice glanced at the clock again, hoping Ben wasn’t already home and wondering where she’d been all morning.

  Andrew pushed his glasses back up the bridge of his nose. ‘Do you think?’

  Alice nodded encouragingly. ‘I really do. I’m sure she’ll be happy to reignite your friendship, and from the way you spoke about how things have been going, I’m certain it will all work out for the best.’

  He was grinning like a Cheshire cat, revealing the yellow nicotine stains on his teeth. ‘I hope you’re right. She’s a couple of years younger than me, but she said she was looking for someone a bit older, as she’s had younger boyfriends before and despises immaturity. Would you say I’m mature?’

  ‘Very mature, Andrew. Listen, I’m sorry to be abrupt, but I really do need to get home. I’m sure she’ll message you back and agree to meet. Mark my words.’

  She put the car into gear and he straightened up, allowing her to raise the window and pull out of the space. She continued to watch him in the rear-view mirror as she headed for home. He was still standing on the pavement watching the Audi when Alice turned into the next road. The smell of the garlic sausage in his baguette and his tobacco breath lingered and she flipped the air conditioning switch to maximum.

  THIRTY-FIVE

  Ben’s car wasn’t parked outside the house as she pulled in through the gates, which meant he’d yet to return from the office and so wouldn’t know she’d been out. Alice didn’t know how he’d react if she told him where she’d been or what she’d been doing, but sometimes it was just better to let sleeping dogs lie.

  Pulling her phone from her bag in the boot, she saw he’d messaged her twice to say he was running late. She fired him a quick response telling him she’d see him soon. There was also a voicemail from a withheld number.

  ‘Alice? It’s Ray,’ Ben’s dad’s voice crackled. ‘We called by the house to see how you’re coping, but nobody was home. Can you give us a call when you’re back? Just want to check that you’re both well, and to see if there’s anything you need or … sorry … I’m sure you probably just want some space and to put this whole mess behind you. Hermione asked me to leave the message. Just send a text if everything’s okay, and we’ll say no more. Okay? Oh, and don’t let that son of mine think he can get away with not taking you on honeymoon. Okay, okay, that will do. Hope to speak with you both soon. Bye.’

  Alice clutched the phone to her chest, straining to stop her eyes from watering. Ray and Hermione had seemed standoffish when she’d first encountered them, but now they’d become like a second set of parents, particularly Ray. Alice didn’t doubt that Hermione had told him to phone and leave the message. Of course, if they let slip to Ben that they’d called round and found the house empty, it might raise suspicion; she would have to think of a reason why she wasn’t home.

  The large house blocked out the sun, and she took a moment to savour the cool freshness the shadow brought. Pulling her handbag over her head and shoulder, she marched into the house.

  Dropping her bag to the countertop in the kitchen, she meandered to the fridge, pulling it open and looking for something to snack on. Closing the fridge door, she reached for a banana, peeled the skin and devoured it in four mouthfuls. It was the boost of energy she needed. Spotting the now very dry laundry hanging on the clothes airer, she scooped up the items, folded them neatly into a pile and carried them upstairs. She’d always enjoyed the smell of fresh laundry, and was tempted to change into fresh clothes there and then. The car journey to and from Bournemouth had been hot and sticky, despite the air conditioning.

  Heading into the main bedroom, she was disappointed to find the bed still unmade. She’d been the last one in there, and was usually very good at folding back the thin duvet and straightening the sheet, but apparently she’d left it in a crumpled mess this morning. Lowering the pile of laundry to the bedside table on Ben’s side of the room, she shook the king-size duvet before flattening it on the bed and pulling it back in half, grabbing handfuls of sheet and pulling and tucking as she completed a circuit of the mattress.

  Letting out a sigh of satisfaction, she returned to the pile of clothes. Sorting them into a pile for her – bras, knickers, and tops – and a pile for Ben – socks, pants, work shirts, and trousers – she carried her pile to the chest of drawers on her side of the large room. Opening the top drawer, she remembered how desperately she needed to sort through her clothes and get rid of the things that looked tired or would never be worn again. Anything still usable she would bag up and donate to charity, and the rest would be dropped in the bin. Rifling through some of the tops, she decided she wasn’t in the right frame of mind to do it now. Ben needed to go through his clothes too, and it would be much better if they did it together, particularly as she didn’t trust him to do his at all without her there supervising.

  Closing her drawers, she was just going to leave Ben’s pile on the bed, when she figured it would be kinder to put them away for him. Moving to his wardrobe, she opened both doors. The large space was filled with various tailored suits to the left, neatly hung and not squashed, followed by his work shirts, and then his more casual trousers and jeans. Beneath this were two stacks of drawers, into which she deposited the socks and pants. Finding the vacant hangers, she carefully hung the shirts, flattening any creases with her hands, and then moved onto the trousers. The final item left in the pile was a towel he used when he went to the gym and kept on the shelf above the hangers. He was taller than she was and could easily reach up there, but even on tiptoes, she struggled to grip the shelf edge. As she strained to reach, her efforts to swing her other arm and essentially launch the towel onto the shelf were thwarted by a battered old shoebox she’d never noticed before. It was pushed into the wardrobe wall, but jutted out slightly. The towel landed in its space, but as it did, her trailing hand caught the corner of the shoebox and before she could react to stop it, it tumbled forwards out of her grasp and onto to the floor, spilling its contents.

 
Alice tutted in frustration as she dropped to her knees and began to scoop up the contents, but as she turned the box the right way up, she realized she’d never seen any of the photographs before. She immediately recognized a younger looking Ben. There were images of him under ten, playing sports, sitting in tall grass, posing in school uniform. Then there were pictures of him as an adolescent, and the youth by his side in most of them had to be Dave, albeit with none of the tattoos and with a full head of hair. She found herself giggling as she took the time to look at each one, wondering why Ben had never shown these to her before.

  She remembered asking to see older photographs of him once, but he’d said something about his parents not being very snap-happy when he’d grown up. She’d seen a couple of him as a grumpy-looking baby, but these were priceless. The next one she turned over showed both Ben and Dave, maybe fifteen years old with bright bleached hair. Both were striking hard-faced poses, trying to look much older and failing miserably.

  In the next image, she saw Ben looking more like the Ben she’d first met all those years ago. On his arm was a woman with a shock of auburn hair, gelled up and pointy. Resembling something of a punk, she had a pretty face and an engaging smile, but looked older than Ben. In the next one, she was sandwiched between Ben and Dave, the three of them crying with laughter at something.

  She knew Ben had dated before, as she had dated plenty of men before him. They didn’t keep their previous relationships a secret, but nor did they waste countless hours discussing their exes. At first, she couldn’t be sure if this woman was Ben’s girlfriend or Dave’s as she seemed close to both of them. Then she froze as her eyes fell on a photo of Ben stooped on one knee before the woman, her hand in his and her other hand at her mouth. The next picture was of Ben holding the woman’s hand out for the camera, his grandmother’s beautiful jewel encrusted ring on her finger.

  She bequeathed it to me on the understanding that one day I give it to someone deserving of its splendour.

  Alice raised her hand and compared the ring on her finger to the one in the image. She had no doubt that it was the same. Her heart aching with sadness, she flipped through the next set of images. Ben and this woman holding hands; Ben and her linking arms; Ben and her kissing; Ben and her drinking champagne.

  He’d never told her he’d been engaged before, and although in the grand scheme of things it wasn’t that important, seeing the evidence still felt like a betrayal.

  Then she spotted the woman’s necklace. The name ‘Mary’ was written in joined-up handwriting, clasped between the two ends of the chain.

  Liam O’Neill’s words in the pub echoed around the room: Does the name Mary mean anything to you?

  It hadn’t, and still didn’t, but could it be that the person Liam was referring to was the same red-headed punk as in these pictures?

  Find out what you can about Mary, but watch your back – Ben won’t like it if he finds out you’re digging into his past.

  She’d thought he’d only said it to get a rise out of her, but what if there was something she needed to know about this woman?

  The front door slammed downstairs, and Ben’s voice called out. ‘Babe? You home?’

  Alice felt a jolt of panic go through her. He’d be up the stairs in a shot, and if he spotted her on the floor with his box of hidden photographs, he’d think she’d been snooping. She’d be within her rights to demand an explanation about why he’d kept this part of his life a secret for so long, but Liam’s warning still resounded loud: we both know what he’s capable of when he’s not happy.

  Grabbing the remaining images from the floor, she pushed them into the shoebox as quickly as she could, no longer caring about trying to get them back in the correct order. She could hear Ben on the staircase and leapt to her feet, wrestling to get the shoebox lid back on, stretching up on the tips of her toes to try and get it back into its dusty space in the cupboard.

  ‘Babe?’ Ben called out from the top of the stairs.

  She had one corner on the shelf and pushed with all her might. Closing the wardrobe, she had just turned to face the bed when the bedroom door was pushed open. Ben approached her and kissed her cheek. Alice held her breath, hoping he couldn’t hear the rapid thumping of her heart.

  ‘Everything okay?’ he asked her with a concerned look.

  ‘Just putting away the laundry,’ she quickly fired back, nodding at the drawers. ‘All finished now, though.’ She took a deep breath. ‘How’s everything at the office?’

  ‘Ongoing,’ he replied in a disappointed tone. ‘The lawyers are still on the case and hopefully we can avoid a lawsuit. Even though Yann didn’t cause the accident, he shouldn’t have been on the road. We either need to fess up and take the inevitable fines and reputational hit, or keep quiet and hope nobody finds out. I feel like I’m stuck between a rock and a hard place.’ He forced a smile. ‘Don’t let any of that worry you though. I’m sorting it. You eaten yet?’

  She thought about the banana she had wolfed down, and shook her head.

  ‘Good, then let’s go out to lunch. It’s about time you and I remembered we’re supposed to be on our honeymoon. I want to go out and forget about everything else that’s going on. I also have a surprise for you, but I don’t want to say until we’re away from here. Sound okay?’

  She was just desperate to get out of the room before he opened the wardrobe and noticed his box had moved.

  THIRTY-SIX

  ‘A toast,’ Ben said, raising the thin flute, ‘to a happy marriage.’

  Alice clinked her glass against his. The bubbles tickled her upper lip as she sipped the champagne. ‘A girl could get used to this,’ she said, playing along, even though the image of her ring on another woman’s finger continued to taunt her.

  ‘I can think of no place I’d rather be,’ Ben replied, ‘than with my stunning wife on such a beautiful day. If I had my way, we’d both quit our jobs and dine like this every day.’

  Alice casually glanced around the fine décor of the small French restaurant he’d brought her to. They were the only couple in there now, and had only been given a table on the promise that they wouldn’t have starters or puddings and would eat quickly. Despite the watchful eye of the maître d’, it was a welcoming environment, and gentle harmonies played on surround speakers.

  ‘I don’t think we’d survive for long if neither of us had a job,’ Alice cautioned.

  ‘I don’t know,’ he mused, ‘I could sell the business. That ought to be enough to keep us dining for a few years at least.’

  He wasn’t being serious, which is why she didn’t bother to point out that she actually enjoyed being a teacher, and so giving it up wasn’t an option, at least, not yet.

  ‘I brought you here for two reasons,’ Ben continued, lowering his glass and reaching out for her hand. ‘Are you ready for some great news?’

  She nodded.

  ‘Well, I heard from that DC Hazelton today. Do you remember her? The woman who collected my clothes on Sunday?’

  Alice’s pulse quickened. Had Hazelton told him that she’d seen Alice in Bournemouth this morning?

  ‘Well, the great news is, they found none of that girl’s DNA on my clothes. I’m in the clear! I mean, I always knew I would be, but it’s nice to hear the police finally confirm it.’

  Alice was relieved to hear the news; a small victory for common sense over her cynical imagination.

  ‘That’s wonderful, Ben! What does that mean for us in terms of their constant intrusions?’

  He frowned. ‘My solicitor is handling all of that. She said I’ve now been shelved as a person of interest in the inquiry, that they would hold onto my clothes for the time being, but that they would be returned in due course. She also said I’ll be getting my passport back. I was buzzing when she called.’

  Alice allowed herself a moment to process the news. If they’d ruled Ben out of the investigation then that had to mean he couldn’t have killed Kerry. But that didn’t necessarily rule out any o
f the others.

  ‘Did she mention if they have any other leads?’ Alice asked as casually as she could manage.

  ‘She didn’t say, and to be honest, I couldn’t care less. I know that sounds like a terrible thing to say, but I’ve been doing a lot of hard thinking since yesterday, and you were right. I shouldn’t be blaming myself for what happened. I didn’t make some jerk attack her, and it wasn’t even my idea to have her at the bar, so it’s about time I gave myself a break. Right?’

  Alice nodded, even though she wasn’t sure the entire group could be let off so easily.

  ‘Who do you think killed her then?’ she asked.

  Ben frowned. ‘How would I know?’

  Her mind returned to the list of suspects she’d found scrawled yesterday. ‘So you don’t think it was someone else from the stag party?’

  His expression changed to one of surprised anger. ‘No! Why would I?’

  Alice bit her lip. ‘I found the list you and Dave drew up on Sunday night.’

  ‘List? What list …?’ His face changed as the memory returned. ‘That? We were drunk and just spitballing ideas. It’s nonsense. When did you see it?’

  ‘I came into the living room first thing yesterday to tidy up and saw it then.’

  His face softened. ‘Is that what’s been bothering you the last couple of days? I knew something wasn’t quite right. You’ve been … I don’t know, distant? I couldn’t figure out exactly what it was, but now I know. Forget about that list. We ripped it up when we woke up. We both realized how ridiculous it was to think that one of our friends could have snuck away and gone after her with nobody noticing.’

  ‘I overheard the two of you talking, too, on Sunday night. You were talking about Scott and some trouble he got you into in Malia.’

  Ben was smirking now. ‘So you leapt to the conclusion that he – or one of the rest of us – could be responsible for killing that girl? Babe, seriously, do you realize how crazy that sounds?’