by Sibel Hodge
I took another sip of champagne and felt better as I thought about my new adventure. Where would I go from Paris? Or should I stay in the city a while and do some sight-seeing? Should I fly to another place? Hire a car and drive down to Italy? Tuscany would be nice. All that delicious wine and food. Yum. Plenty of scenery to paint. Hopefully some wildlife, too.
I turned a page in the magazine, an article on Santorini catching my eye with several glossy photos showing whitewashed houses built into a cliff. They had blue shutters that were in stark contrast with the brightness of the buildings and sunshine.
Hmmm, that looks nice. Somewhere to add to my list of possibles for the future. I could picture myself on a terrace overlooking that view, sipping icy cold retsina, eating olives and mezze, painting away. The light would be amazing there. Maybe I could set up a stall selling my artwork to tourists again. Or island hop. Yes, life wasn’t so bad at all, despite the rather major fuck-up of not getting all the money I’d wanted. But I was free. That was the main thing.
I glanced up suddenly, realising we’d been sitting on the tarmac for ages and no other passengers had come on. I glanced at the door at the front of the plane. It was still open. I looked at my watch, noticing a fleck of blood on the face. I wiped it against my cardigan, but it didn’t come off, so I scratched at it with my fingernail. How long were we going to sit here for? Didn’t they know I had places to go? What was the hold-up?
The attendant caught my eye as she walked past, closing the overhead lockers.
‘Will we be taking off soon?’ I asked.
‘Yes, not long now. Would you like another glass of champagne while you’re waiting?’
I gave her a gracious smile. ‘That would be lovely, thanks.’
‘Me too.’ The man next to me held out his glass and seemed to think that this was his cue to start chatting again.
‘What’s your name?’ he asked, leaning closer so I could smell his disgusting garlic breath.
I edged further away towards the window and picked the first bland name that came into my head, not looking up to meet his eyes. Can’t you take a hint?! ‘Sarah.’
‘Lovely to meet you. I’m Bruce.’ He thrust his hand towards me to shake.
I nodded with disinterest and still didn’t look up. A shadow fell over my magazine, and I reached out my hand for a refill from the attendant returning with my champagne. She was very efficient. I liked her.
When the champagne didn’t materialise in my glass, I glanced up. DS Carter and another man in a black suit stood in the aisle next to my seat.
No. No, no, fucking no!
Black Suit flashed a card at Bruce. ‘Police. Please get out of your seat, sir.’ He indicated with a sweep of his arm for him to move further down the plane.
Bruce didn’t need asking twice – he scrabbled away towards the rear of the plane, quite quickly for a fat man, until he was beyond my vision. DS Carter watched me with a slight grin on his face.
My stomach lurched, forcing the champagne back up into my throat. Fireworks shot through my skull. It felt like fingernails were scratching at my skin.
Then DS Carter started talking. ‘Samantha Folds, I’m arresting you on suspicion of the murders of Alissa Burbeck and Max Burbeck, and the attempted murder of Richard Wilmott. You do not have to say anything, but it may harm your defence if you do not mention, when questioned, something you later rely on in court. Anything you do say may be given in evidence.’
The world started swirling in front of my eyes, and I didn’t hear the rest of his words. They were just white noise.
White noise scratching at the screaming darkness inside my head.
PART FOUR
LOVE
THE ONE
Chapter 49
No, no, no, that just wasn’t how it was supposed to turn out. AT ALL! You think you know people, and I was the one who knew Alissa best, but . . . well, that was strange. I should’ve guessed, I suppose. I should’ve picked up on it. But Samantha was so good an actress I hadn’t noticed a thing. To me, the imposter walking around in her shoes was still the Alissa I loved more than anything in the world. My soulmate. The one I had to keep to myself. I didn’t spot it coming. Who could predict that? Turns out Samantha and I are a lot alike, even though I can’t stand that thought.
When you think about it, we’re all actors and actresses, aren’t we? All playing a part. And we all have secrets. But when our secrets collide . . . Boom! It’s devastation.
The wedding reception was when the idea first came into my head. I couldn’t let it be that final. Max didn’t deserve Alissa. He couldn’t have her. She was mine. I’d loved her since we were six years old. Before I even knew what love was. Before I knew how someone could get under your skin like that and take hold of your heart, like a tree taking root in the ground. Tough, solid, impenetrable, all-consuming love.
Growing up, other people began to notice Alissa, too. You couldn’t exactly not, looking like she did. Even then, she was so beautiful. But they didn’t feel the way I did. They were jealous of her. Spread rumours about her. Bullied her. And of course I stuck up for her. I was there for her in every hour of need. Of course I was. I always would be. I punched one of the ringleaders in the face once. Got my own back in many different ways. There was nothing I wouldn’t do for my girl. You could never say I wasn’t loyal. That I didn’t protect those I cared about. And it all worked in my favour for a long time, pushing us closer together. I was the one she could rely on. The one who was always there for her, no matter what happened.
We were eleven when we had our first kiss. I’d waited all that time on the sidelines, watching how the boys looked at her. Wanted her. But they couldn’t have her. I knew her better than she knew herself. She just didn’t realise it yet. We were sitting in the park after school in a secluded spot where no one else would notice us. The sunlight was behind her, casting an ethereal glow around her hair. She looked like an angel. She was my angel. Alissa was just casually talking about boys, worrying about how to French kiss properly, like teenage girls do, worrying she’d be embarrassed when it happened for the first time and not wanting to look like an idiot. She’d had slobbery pecks on the cheek before from some of the lads, but she’d never been really kissed before. So I told her we should practise, to get it right for when the time came.
Alissa giggled. ‘You mean, practise on each other?’
I shrugged and smiled, giving the impression that it was the first time I’d ever considered kissing her. I thought maybe if I kissed her I’d get it out of my system, this obsession I had with her. But I didn’t want just any girl. I wanted her. Always her. ‘Why not?’ I laughed too.
She smiled. ‘Yeah, OK, why not? So, how should we . . .’
I scooched closer towards her so that our faces were an inch apart. She looked so serious, concentrating, as if she was about to commit every detail to memory, just like me.
‘Wait! Which way are you going? Left or right?’ she said.
I angled my head to the right. ‘Here.’
‘OK.’ She leaned her head to the left, moving in closer so I could smell the strawberry chapstick on her inviting lips.
And then it happened. The moment I’d been fantasising about for as long as I could remember. My lips touching her soft, full ones. Our tongues entwining together. I’d waited so long for it, and the reality was better than the fantasy. A million times better. I thought, This is how I want to spend the rest of my life – kissing you! I kept my eyes open as her lids fluttered closed, wanting to make sure it was really happening, wanting to savour every second. But then she pulled back suddenly, embarrassed.
She giggled again. ‘Oh, my God! I can’t believe we just did that!’ She glanced around nervously, as if hoping no one had seen.
I wanted to lay myself bare and tell her how much I cared for her. How I’d look after her. Be everything she needed. I was about to tell her that it was meant to happen. How good we’d be together. How I’d always be there for he
r. Have her back. Give her what she wanted. I grinned easily, ecstatically, and stared at her beautiful face, wanting to trace it with my fingertips, kiss her eyelids, her cheek, every part of her. My whole body throbbed with desire. And now we’d kissed, surely it would be the beginning for us.
But no.
She leaped to her feet and grabbed her school bag, pulling me to my feet and linking her arm through mine as she dragged me away from the park.
I opened my mouth to tell her how I felt, the words burning a hole in my tongue.
‘Thanks for that,’ she said happily. ‘Now I won’t feel like a real dork when I get to kiss a guy. You’re such an amazing friend.’
The words in my mouth morphed into a thick, choking feeling. She couldn’t see me yet for what I was. The One for her. But it didn’t matter. I had all the time in the world to make her see the truth.
Eventually, she started seeing Russell. I didn’t give away my feelings, but I knew he wasn’t right for her. Of course not. I knew she’d see it herself in the end and we’d get to share that kiss again and more. Much, much more. When they broke up, I couldn’t sleep, couldn’t eat. The anticipation that finally now was the right time for us. Of course she’d wanted to experiment with him – it was natural, normal. But now it was over, it would be our time.
Except it wasn’t.
If Max hadn’t taken her away from me, it would never have happened. But he did, so it did happen. Over the years, I’d been patiently waiting for her to see what was in front of her eyes, but now all she saw was Max, and I couldn’t have that. No way. She belonged to me, not him. And if he was out of the way, finally it would happen for us, I knew it. All the pieces would click into place for her.
I tried subtle little ways to get rid of Max, but they didn’t work, so I bided my time, waiting for an opportunity, pretending I was happy for them both. I always knew he couldn’t have her. No one else could. It wasn’t right. It wasn’t fair.
The anger built up. Alissa didn’t know what she was doing, marrying him. I’d have the final say in it all.
I toyed from the start with the idea of framing Russell, because he was still as obsessed with her as I was, and if Max was out of the way, would she take up with Russell again? Would Russell get to be happy with her in a way I couldn’t be unless I had her to myself? My plan was to take both of them away from her and she’d have no one to turn to except me.
I knew Max and Alissa’s routines inside out. I’d made it my business to know over the years. I knew he never locked the back door or set the alarm until he was going to bed. Knew the curtains were usually kept open. I watched the house from the woods, seeing the office light on, seeing Max’s silhouette working away in there, hearing the music carry even through the window. Then I’d seen the bathroom light go on – Alissa’s nightly bath routine that she’d told me about, during which she always fell asleep. I knew she’d be safely out of the way when it happened, as I couldn’t allow her to get hurt, and my plan meant she wouldn’t seem guilty, because the police wouldn’t suspect her, I was sure, if she managed to ‘escape’ from the killer. I’d watched Russell as well and knew he went night fishing every Sunday. Alone. It was perfect. The answer to everything.
The day of the wedding reception was like a gift. I’d watched Alissa step out of the conservatory and head down to the pond on her own. I was about to go and talk to her when I saw Russell approach. She didn’t see him fall over the fence and drop his cap, but I did. When they’d all gone back into the marquee after it happened, I saw Sasha heading down towards the bottom of the garden from some sneaky hiding place. I watched her go into the woods, wondering what she was up to, but she came back a few minutes later and disappeared into the house. That’s when I went down to the bottom of the garden myself, picked up Russell’s cap, and stuffed it in my bag, knowing the hairs in it would come in handy.
DS Carter never even checked out an alibi for me that night because he was convinced it was all Samantha. So what if she’d only really killed that inspector and my amazing, sweet Alissa? What’s that old Meatloaf song? ‘Two Out of Three Ain’t Bad’? Samantha deserved to pay for what she did. For taking everything away from me. She needed to rot in hell for what she’d done. Although she looked exactly like her, she wasn’t beautiful on the inside, too, like Alissa.
I’d thought I was about to have it all. Now I had nothing.
It was the end, alright. Just not the ending I’d planned so carefully.
So it was time to leave. There was nothing left for me here any more.
TWO WEEKS LATER THE DETECTIVE
Chapter 50
I sat in the bedroom, surrounded by piles of Denise’s clothes, sifting through them, each one sparking some kind of memory – a weekend away here, a night in a pub there, a birthday celebration, Christmas. I’d been at it for a week, unable to carry on for too long each time before the choking sensation threatened to overwhelm me. But finally, it was time to do this. To let her go. To exorcise the ghosts.
I’d put the house on the market and found a buyer in the first week. Now it was time to pack everything away. I’d handed in my notice at work. DI Nash and I would start at the National Wildlife Crime Enforcement Unit in eight weeks. Part of me was scared, apprehensive, but the other part felt alive for the first time in a long while. Of course, DS Greene had begged me to stay. The acting DI job was mine, he’d said. I’d earned it. My blaze of glory had materialised, but the victory was hollow. Wilmott was dead, and that was my fault, even though no one else shared this view. Of course I felt guilty. Denise’s death should’ve taught me that life was too short to let petty jealousies and squabbles get in the way. I should’ve tried harder with Wilmott, and then maybe he’d still be alive. Now I had to live with his death on my conscience. Whether it was really a result of his actions or mine didn’t matter to me. Denise would’ve told me to rise above everything and stop looking at things from my own perspective all the time. To put myself in his shoes for a while. Sadly, it was too late for me and Wilmott now. But it wasn’t too late to change. To learn from my mistakes and become a better person.
Sam Folds had been charged with all three murders and had been remanded in custody until her trial. When I’d interviewed her, she’d taken great pleasure in telling me how she’d met Alissa, got to know her, murdered her. How she’d stabbed Wilmott in cold blood. When she’d started talking, it was hard to shut her up. She wanted me to know everything. She was gloating, bragging. But the one thing she denied vehemently was Max’s murder. She said she’d been planning it, but someone else had got there first. That everything really did happen that night as she’d described. It was bugging me why she wouldn’t admit to Max’s murder when her confession to the other two practically spilled out of her as soon as she’d been arrested. But I thought she was just playing games, wanting to get the upper hand, trying to prove how clever and calculating she really was.
I shook the thoughts away and finished filling yet another black plastic sack with Denise’s clothes. I loaded it into the car next to the five that were already in there and drove towards the cancer charity shop in town, certain that was where Denise would’ve wanted them to go.
I parked outside the shop and heaved two bags inside. The woman behind the counter was pricing up some clothes, which were spread out next to the till.
‘I’ve got a few clothes for you.’ I dumped the bags at the side of the counter.
‘Oh, great, thank you.’
‘I’ll just go and get the rest.’
Two trips later, I’d unloaded the last of them. I walked back out into the fresh air and stood on the pavement, taking in a few deep breaths to quell the guilt. I glanced around at the shoppers bustling on the pavements – mums pushing buggies, an elderly couple still holding hands even though they looked to be in their eighties, the back of a man further up the street, wearing a beanie hat with messy blond hair poking out underneath, hands tucked in the pockets of his jacket. People going about their business,
oblivious to all the bad things in the world.
I ran a hand through my hair. It had grown since Vicky had cut it. Maybe I should get another trim while I had time so it would be nice and neat for my new job. I could kill two birds with one stone – get a haircut and see how Vicky was doing. She’d been distraught when she’d found out Alissa was dead. She’d been inconsolable when I explained exactly what had happened out there in Noosa. How Alissa had been found and what Samantha had done.
A Snip in Time was only at the other end of the high street, and I wanted to delay going back home, since all traces of Denise’s possessions had now been taken away.
I window-shopped on the way down the road, browsing at the window of a bookshop. Maybe I’d buy a thriller on the way back and settle down with it for the night. Further up was a small hardware shop with a sale on lawnmowers displayed outside. I perused the window, looking at some trowels and spades. I wouldn’t need any of those if I was moving to a rented flat in London. Maybe I should get rid of all the gardening stuff in my shed now, too. Have a complete clear out. Be ruthless. I did need some filler and white paint, though. When I’d removed some photos of Denise from the wall to pack up, I’d noticed chips in the plaster where I’d bashed the nails in all those years before. I’d have to make good before the new owners completed.
I walked up one aisle, past protective work masks and gloves and overalls, looking for Polyfilla. I was about to turn into the next aisle when I spotted a box of plastic shoe covers. I picked it up, looking at the picture of them on the outside of the cardboard. They were blue. It sparked off the fake description of the killer that Samantha had given on the night of Max’s murder, and I thought again of all the lies she’d told.
