The Adulterer's Wife

by Leigh Russell

  He looked as though he hadn’t eaten a decent meal for a while, and his request gave me an idea. If I could persuade him to see me as a friend, he might become reasonable, and reduce the amount he was demanding.

  ‘Did we ever stop being friends?’ I asked, returning his smile nervously. ‘I know if it weren’t for you, I’d be in prison right now. You were the only one who stood by me.’

  ‘That’s more like it. So, we just need to regularise my payments. Think of it as paying for my ongoing support. A retainer, if you like.’

  I nodded. ‘Wait here and I’ll bring you some tea, and I’ve got some cake.’

  He raised his eyebrows. ‘Cake, eh? You never used to offer me cake.’

  ‘I didn’t used to be able to afford it.’

  He grinned at me as I stood up. ‘Cake is the icing on the cake.’

  Hurriedly I went to the kitchen. I wanted Ackerman gone before Dan came home.

  My visitor was sprawling in an armchair when I rejoined him and placed a tray on the low table. As Ackerman picked up the pot to pour himself a cup of tea, his hand slipped. The pot had been filled from the kettle only seconds earlier so the tea was still virtually boiling. Ackerman let out a high-pitched screech as the scalding liquid spilled in his lap. Still screaming, he leapt to his feet.

  ‘Get in the kitchen and pour cold water on it!’ I yelled at him.

  His eyes blazing, he pushed past me and hobbled to the kitchen, bent double in agony. Consumed with pain, he didn’t look where he was going and slipped on a patch of water on the floor. As he toppled backwards, his head hit the edge of the granite worktop with a loud crack. Following close behind him, I froze.

  Ackerman lay on his back. Leaning over him, I saw a thin line of blood trickle across the floor and form a small pool beside his head. His eyelids fluttered involuntarily but I don’t think he saw me there, watching him. His breath came in laboured gasps, and then he was silent.

  Shaking, I called the police.

  ‘There’s been an accident,’ I blurted out, almost incoherent with shock. ‘My friend has fallen and hit his head. I think he’s dead.’

  Epilogue

  There seemed no reason to mention Ackerman’s threatened blackmail to the police.

  ‘He was a good friend of mine,’ I concluded my statement. ‘I can’t believe what happened. I’m devastated.’

  Detective Inspector Morgan stared at me in silence for a long time when I finished speaking. ‘That makes three unexpected deaths in your presence,’ he remarked at last.

  Despite his implied suspicion, the Detective Inspector was forced to accept that in all these tragic events I was a victim, not a culprit.

  For all her craziness, Katie was right about one thing. The sole survivor’s account was the true one.

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  Acknowledgments

  I am very grateful to Betsy Reavley for the inspiration and warmth of her support, to Fred Freeman for his invaluable advice, my eagle-eyed editor Morgen Bailey and my proofreader for their guidance, Sumaira Wilson for her untiring enthusiasm and practical help, and to the wonderful Sarah Hardy and her team of bloggers for their generosity with their time: Kate Eveleigh, Jo Turner, Melisa Broadbent, Sharon Bairden, Shell Baker, Gemma Myers, Liz Mistry, Kate Noble, Dash Fan Book Reviews, Sally Boland, Diane Hogg, Linda Green, Susan Hampson, Karen Cocking, Joanne Robertson, Vicki Dickinson, Katie Jones, Philomena Callan, Michelle Ryles, Susan Corcoran, and Joni Gheen.

  My thanks also to Dr Leonard Russell for his medical advice, and last, but by no means least, to Michael who is always with me.