by Karla Forbes
“Why not?” Mason asked. “If you had just killed your boss after discovering that he and your wife were having an affair, it’s perfectly understandable that you would have been in shock. In the circumstances, I can well believe that it was a simple mistake.”
“Listen to me,” Nick growled. “I didn’t kill Tim, but I’ve given you a full description of the three men who did. I don’t know why they killed him. I can only tell you what happened. Are you making any attempt to find these men? Or have you decided to put the blame on me simply because I’m the easy option?”
“Of course we’re looking for them,” Mason said, defensively. “My problem is that so far, the only person who claims to have seen them is you.”
“I also gave you a description of their boat,” Nick pointed out. “Couldn’t you try tracing them that way? Boats have to be berthed, insured, maintained. Someone somewhere must know something.”
“So far we’ve drawn a blank on that as well,” Mason told him. “There are a lot of boats in the waters around the south coast. The description you gave could fit any number of them.”
“Then send a diver down,” Nick ordered. “When you find their yacht scuttled at the bottom of the Channel, you’ll know I’ve been telling the truth.”
Mason snorted with apparent amusement. “Let me explain the realities of police budgets, shall I? We send divers into narrow canals when someone has been reported missing. We occasional send divers into lakes when murder is suspected and we’re recovering a body. What we don’t do is expect divers to search the entire sea bed, when the most accurate location you’ve been able to give us so far is ‘approximately four miles from the Kent coast’.”
Nick sat back, looking deflated.
“So, what happens now?” he asked. “Are you going to arrest me?”
The detective seemed to seriously consider the question before giving an answer. “No. At the moment, you are still helping us with our enquiries.”
Nick stood up. “In that case, I’m not helping anymore. I’m going home. And if you’re not going to arrest me then you can’t stop me.”
Mason gathered up the papers in a businesslike manner. “Of course, you’re perfectly free to go…for the time being at least. But I’m sure you can appreciate that this isn’t the end of the matter. You will be hearing from us again shortly.”
“I look forward to it,” Nick said sourly.
“In the meantime, you’ll need to hang on here a while longer to collect your valuables that you left on the boat. Forensics are finished with them for now, but you’ll have to sign for them.”
Nick raised a questioning eyebrow.
“Your wallet and credit cards,” Mason explained. “They were found intact on your boat, and in view of the fact that your wife won’t be coming to collect you, you’ll need them to get home.” He turned to leave but stopped in the doorway. “You can see my problem, can’t you? Three men, without any obvious motive, conveniently murder the man who is about to ruin your life. Not only has no one else seen either them or their boat, but it seems that they’re too honest to steal your credit cards and wallet. It doesn’t make a lot of sense does it?”
Put like that, Nick could only agree.
***
Nick arrived home after a long, tiring journey via the marina to collect his car, a sleek Aston Martin Volante that he had indulged himself with after one particularly good bonus. The house already had the cold feel of a home long since deserted by its owners, even though Esther could only have left the previous day. He threw his car keys on a nearby table and walked upstairs to the bedroom with a heavy heart. The built-in wardrobes stood open, stripped of their contents. He wandered into the bathroom that had previously been adorned with bottles of gels and lotions. Nick had never fathomed what use they could be for, but the shelves looked bare without them. His razor, toothpaste and shampoo were all that remained.
He wandered downstairs again, and noticed the message light flashing on the telephone. When he pressed it, he heard himself speaking, giving Esther the details of the hospital. He had phoned four times, but only one of his messages remained. He realised, with a feeling of emptiness, that Esther had been at home when he had phoned but had chosen not to pick up the phone.
There was also a message from the director of the merchant bank where he and Tim worked. His voice was muted with emotion. The message was for Nick telling him that everyone was shocked to hear the tragic news, and how on no account was Nick to hurry back to work. “Take as long as you need,” the director told him. “You’ve suffered a terrible ordeal. We don’t want you coming back before you’re ready.”
There were further messages from friends and neighbours along similar lines, and then a second message from the director. This time his voice was more agitated.
“I’ve been trying to reach you, Nick,” he said, “I need to warn you. The police have been taking statements from your colleagues at the bank. They’ve been asking a lot of questions about you and Tim. There are some disturbing rumours flying around. The gossips are having a field day. People are saying… Well, it doesn’t matter what they’re saying…it’s all rubbish, of course, but… I’m sorry, Nick… I’m not sure how to put this… It might be better if you stay away from work for a while. You’ve got some leave owing to you. It makes sense to take it. We’ll talk later. Take care now.”
Nick sagged against the wall, his eyes closed and his head in his hands. In the space of 48 hours his world had collapsed. He tried not to think of Esther and Tim’s betrayal, and focused instead on the case the police could build against him. He conceded that he had the motive, but the evidence was circumstantial. He thought about the knife found in his possession. When Tim’s body was eventually washed to shore, would forensics be able to ascertain beyond question that Nick’s knife was not the murder weapon? He doubted it. By the time the body had been in the sea for a while, a post-mortem would yield only the most basic facts.
The phone rang, cutting through his thoughts. He hurried to answer it, thinking for a brief illogical moment that it might be Esther.
It was a mutual friend. When Nick spoke, she hesitated.
“Nick?” She sounded confused. “Oh, sorry. I wasn’t expecting it to be you… Has Esther left already? I must go… I didn’t mean… Sorry.” The phone clicked and the line went dead.
Nick stared at the receiver, feeling sick. Word was spreading fast. In the eyes of the community he was a murderer. A pariah among normal law-abiding people. Someone to be avoided at all costs, until the police could find the evidence they needed to safely lock him away.
He stood for a long time with the phone hanging loosely from his hand, then slid slowly down the wall until he was sitting on the floor. The phone dropped with a clatter onto the polished wood and he wrapped his arms around his chest, staring moodily ahead. When he finally roused himself, he had come to a decision. His mouth twisted into a hard, bitter line; he would find Esther and force her to listen to the truth.
***
It didn’t take long to track her down. She had several good friends that she could have stayed with, but Nick applied logic to the problem. She would have to remain within a commutable distance of her work, but be with someone who had room to spare and wouldn’t mind the upheaval of an extra person in their household. In the end he was left with one person: her best friend Natasha, a divorcee who lived in the Horsham area.
He drove slowly past Natasha’s house, hoping to spot Esther’s car, a bright red Mercedes convertible. He was disappointed. He kept going and parked around the corner, then walked back to the small terraced house where Natasha lived. He rang the bell and stepped back, searching the windows to the side and above him for signs of life. The only sound he heard was from passing traffic and the neighbour’s children playing in the back garden. He squinted through the small pane of glass at the empty hallway, then rang the bell again, leaning on it until his finger nearly broke the bell push. But the door remained stubbornly closed.<
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He stood for a moment pondering what to do. He glanced at his watch wondering if Esther could be at the office, but immediately dismissed that thought. She wouldn’t return to work so soon after the murder of the man who had been her lover and the father of her unborn child.
Tim, the father of her baby!
He turned the words over in his head, trying to get used to the idea. An image of Tim laughing with him on the boat came into his mind, and he felt sick with a sense of grief and betrayal. He clenched his fist and punched the bell in a petulant display of temper, but immediately regretted it and told himself to get a grip; he had come here to talk to Esther, not make a scene. He took a moment to steady himself, then began to retrace his steps back to the car. He would try again later when they were both sure to be home.
He had just reached the corner of the road when he glanced back over his shoulder and saw the Mercedes coming into view. It drew to a stop as Esther searched for a space among the parked cars, then she began to manoeuvre into a small gap a few yards away from the house.
Nick pulled back into the cover of an overgrown hedge, watching. Natasha was in the passenger seat, and both women were talking and looking around them, their expressions serious. He guessed that if he showed himself too soon, Esther would engage the central locking and accelerate away. The two women stepped out of the car, and Esther looked warily up and down the road as Natasha hurried ahead to unlock the front door. With a rush of despair, Nick understood the reason for their caution: they were clearly expecting him.
He couldn’t tear his eyes away from Esther. He was no longer seeing his wife but a stranger; a woman who had lied to him and destroyed the comfortable life they had built together. He searched for evidence of pregnancy, wondering how he could have been so blind, but she was still slim and graceful. His stomach lurched as he watched her gathering her shopping from the back seat. Her hair was falling in the same glossy black curtain around her face; her deep blue eyes were still glowing with life; her skin had the same flawless perfection. Yet the woman who slammed the car door and hurried to catch up with her friend was someone he no longer recognised.
Nick realised that his jaw was locked tight with tension. He forced himself to relax, then began edging slowly forward, keeping close to the cover of the hedge. Esther had just stepped inside the house and the door was closing behind her when he made his move. He sprinted the last few yards and threw himself against the door. It flew open with a crash and Esther stumbled forward, dropping her shopping. She turned to him in shock.
“Nick!” she spluttered, and immediately tried to slam the door in his face, but he was too fast for her. He wedged his foot in the door, stepped inside and slammed it closed behind him.
Esther quickly recovered her composure.
“Get out,” she told him coldly, “or I’ll call the police!”
Natasha was immediately by her side pulling her mobile from her bag. “Don’t worry, Esther, I’m calling them.” She rounded on Nick. “You heard what Esther said. Get out. This is my house and I don’t want any trouble.”
Nick covered the distance between them in two strides and plucked the phone from her hand.
“I want five minutes alone with my wife and then I’ll go.”
Natasha began to protest, but Esther held out a hand for silence.
“It’s ok, Tash. I’ll give him five minutes.”
Natasha was outraged. “You can’t,” she argued. “You’re not safe with him. He killed Tim!”
Nick turned on her with fury. “I did not kill Tim, and my wife is perfectly safe. Don’t interfere in something that isn’t your business!”
She flinched at his tone, but Esther sighed with resignation.
“Do as he says,” she told her friend, “but stay outside the door. At the first sign of trouble, call the police.” She turned to Nick. “Give Tash back her phone and come through to the living room.”
Without another word, she turned on her heel and walked through to the other room. Nick handed back the phone and followed, closing the door in Natasha’s face.
“You’ve got five minutes,” Esther reminded him icily.
Nick’s carefully-rehearsed speech fell apart.
“I didn’t kill Tim,” he stuttered. He knew he should be saying more, but he couldn’t think what it was supposed to be.
She regarded him without emotion. “That’s for the police and the courts to decide. If that’s all you came to say, you know where the door is.”
He spread his hands in a gesture of despair.
“You told the police I murdered Tim. What chance do I stand of anyone believing me if my own wife doesn’t?”
“You’re wrong. I didn’t tell the police that you killed Tim. I told them that Tim was my lover and I’m three months pregnant with his baby. They drew their own conclusions.”
“And when were you going to tell me?” he demanded, his anguish now raw and difficult to witness.
She lowered her eyes. “We wanted to tell you a long time ago.”
“What stopped you?”
“We both knew how you would react.”
“Meaning?”
“We knew you would take it badly.”
“Badly?” He repeated the word in disbelief. “How the hell do you think I should take it? Wish you both well and start a collection for the baby?”
His anger evidently fuelled her own, and she went on the attack. “Get out of here. You’ve had your five minutes.”
“No I haven’t,” he corrected her. “I’m not leaving until you look me in the eye and tell me that our marriage is dead.”
She snorted with derision. “Of course it’s dead! It was dead even before you murdered Tim. Do you really think we can just carry on as though nothing has happened?”
Nick became very still. “Esther, I’m your husband. In your heart you must know that I’m not capable of murdering another human being.”
“Well someone did!” she shouted. “Tim’s dead…” Her rigid self-control snapped at the words and she visibly crumpled, the tears beginning to fall. “Tim’s dead, and you killed him!”
Nick’s own hurt evaporated in the face of her distress and he rushed to her side.
“You know that’s not true,” he said. He reached out to hold her, to try to make her understand, but she jerked away from him as though he was a scorpion.
“Of course it’s true!” she spat. “You and Tim were alone on the boat and now he’s dead!” She backed away from him, her face contorted with loathing,
Nick’s hands fell to his side. “When did it go wrong between us, Esther? Once you would have trusted me with your life. Do you really think a person can change that much?”
“I was stupid to trust you. I obviously didn’t know you!”
Nick swallowed hard. He had to ask the question even though he didn’t want to hear the answer.
“Did you ever love me?”
“Yes…once, but now I hate you. I can’t even bear to look at you. Just get out!”
There was a loud hammering on the door.
“Are you all right, Esther?” Natasha yelled. “I’ve called the police. They’ll be here any minute.”
Esther turned her back on him and began to walk towards the door, but he leapt after her, caught her by the shoulder and spun her round.
“I’ve told the police what happened,” he hissed. “Three men killed Tim. Why the hell can’t you believe me?”
“Three men?” she sneered. “Which three men is that? Oh yes, I remember now, the three men who came from nowhere, killed Tim for no reason and then disappeared again without a trace.”
“That’s exactly what happened,” Nick said, raising his voice. “I don’t know who they were and I don’t know why they attacked us – but it was them, not me, who murdered your lover!”
“No,” she said, ramming him in the chest with an open hand, “you’re lying. There were no men; just you!” She pushed him again. “You killed him…no one else, You
, you…only you!”
With each word she rammed him hard in the chest, and he backed away from her reeling under the onslaught. He felt the wall pressing into his shoulders and he grabbed her hand.
“I didn’t kill Tim,” he said, tightening his grip. “But whose fault would it have been if I had?”
She tried to pull her hand away, but he held it fast.
“Yours!” he said, answering his own question. “Your fault for whoring around behind my back. Did you often sleep with my friends, Esther? Or was Tim special because he was also my boss?”
“Get out!”
“Did you like his wage more than mine? Or was it just the thrill of screwing someone higher up the pecking order?”
“I said get out!”
“Why don’t you shag the director of the bank as well? He might buy you another Mercedes if you perform up to standard!”
Her eyes blazed with hatred, and she wrenched her hand away and slapped him hard across the face.
“You bastard! I wish to God that I never have to set eyes on you again!”
Nick regarded her coldly. “Don’t worry, Esther. You won’t.”
Her face twisted into a grimace of rage and torment. “That’s where you’re wrong. The next time we meet I’ll be giving evidence against you in a courtroom. And when they’re leading you down to the cells to start a life sentence I’ll be cheering.”
Nick felt sickened to the core of his being. He turned away from her, but she called after him.
“I loved Tim. Do you even understand the concept of loving anyone except yourself? I’m going to do everything in my power to make you pay for what you did to him. Do you hear me? Everything! I’m going to make sure the police charge you even if I have to lie to them, because I couldn’t bear it if Tim was dead and his murderer walked free!”
Nick’s last vestige of self-control snapped. He turned with a snarl and lashed out, hitting her across the face with the back of his hand.
She buckled under the force of the blow and staggered back, catching her head against the side of the coffee table as she fell. Nick was vaguely aware of a doorbell ringing and Natasha shouting. He stared with horror as a small dribble of blood seeped from the side of Esther’s head and began trickling into her eyes. She touched the blood with her fingertips and stared at it in shock.
