The Perfect Couple (ARC)

by Jackie Kabler

  apparently been attacked in London on the afternoon I’d been there to meet Quinn. I stared at

  them in disbelief at that, my mind racing.

  ‘Well … maybe it was him. Quinn. I told you I think it might have been him who’s behind

  Danny’s disappearance. Maybe it wasn’t just Danny he hurt, maybe Quinn’s your man for all

  of these murders; I don’t know, I’m not a bloody detective. Maybe it was him who attacked

  this guy, if it was near where we met … because it wasn’t me, it wasn’t, I couldn’t, I wouldn’t

  hurt anyone, this is ridiculous, you’ve got it all wrong …’

  I’d finally broken down then, huge sobs wracking my body, and they’d said we could take

  a break. I’d still, up until that point, declined the services of a solicitor; I was innocent, so why

  would I need legal representation? But as I’d been led back to my cell once again, it suddenly

  hit me. This had gone too far. It was real now. I’d been arrested, and the police thought I was

  lying, lying about everything, and that meant I was in big trouble, huge trouble, and I had

  absolutely no idea how to deal with it. And so I’d told them I’d changed my mind, and asked

  if I could call my father. Dad had been aghast, almost speechless with shock and fury, when

  I’d phoned to tell him what had happened, but I’d somehow got it through to him that I needed

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  a solicitor, someone good, and he’d promised to sort it, his voice cracking with emotion as he

  said goodbye.

  So I was waiting, waiting in my cold cell, and a day and a night seemed to somehow have

  passed, and I sat there, shivering, with nothing to look at but the four dirty walls and the toilet

  in one corner, a smell of bleach and urine in the air. They’d brought me some food earlier – a

  polystyrene cup of weak tea and a cardboard carton with some sort of microwaved stew – but

  my stomach had turned at the sight of it and I’d pushed it aside, watching a layer of grease

  slowly forming on top of the meat as it cooled. I sat there, huddled in my rough blanket, my

  whole body shaking, and a weird sensation began to creep over me, as if the coldness of my

  body had finally reached my brain, slowly shutting it down, rendering it incapable of thought,

  incapable of anything except trying to survive one more minute of this hell, and then another,

  and another.

  And then, something so bizarre and remarkable happened that when it did, all I could do

  was sit there, motionless, staring at the man who’d just opened my cell door. It was the custody

  sergeant, and he was smiling.

  ‘Hey Gemma. You’re free to go. They’ve found your husband. Alive,’ he said.

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  Devon wrapped his hands around the warm mug of tea that had just been placed on the table

  in front of him and stared at Danny O’Connor. After weeks of looking at the man’s picture

  pinned to the board back in the incident room it was just so – so peculiar – seeing him bustling

  around the grubby kitchen of the small flat they were now sitting in, making hot drinks, offering

  ginger nut biscuits from a half-empty packet. Seeing him alive, instead of finding him dead.

  This is surreal, Devon thought. And Helena is going to do her frigging nut. The amount

  of time we’ve wasted, searching for him, questioning his wife about his murder, when all the

  time …

  Finally, Danny sat down, the three of them close together around a table designed for two,

  one of those bistro-style tables more usually seen on a terrace or balcony, with two matching

  chairs and a small, wobbly looking stool on which Mike was perched uncomfortably. He

  looked as shocked as Devon felt, shaking his head every minute or so as if in awe.

  ‘I won’t ask how you found me,’ Danny said. ‘Pretty obvious really. Quinn, yeah? I

  should have known, after the stupid git told me he’d gone to see you after he met with Gemma,

  put himself on your radar, showing you those photos of the bruises. But he said you seemed to

  think I was dead, you know, weren’t looking for me alive, so I thought I’d be safe here, for a

  few more days anyway …’

  He sighed. He had a soft Irish accent, his thick dark hair longer and even more curly and

  unruly than it had appeared in the photographs Devon had seen.

  ‘Safe? Safe from what?’ Devon said.

  Danny shifted on his chair. He looked from Devon to Mike and then dropped his gaze to

  the table in front of him.

  ‘I’d …I ’d rather not say. It’s … it’s difficult. Hard to explain.’

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  ‘Well, we’re certainly going to need some sort of explanation, Mr O’Connor. Let’s take

  it slowly, shall we? You mentioned the pictures of the bruises just now – the bruises your

  cousin Quinn said your wife caused by beating you up? She said they were from a bike accident.

  Which account was true, Danny?’ Devon asked.

  ‘Bike,’ said Danny. ‘Sorry. We took the photos at the time because I was going to report

  the accident to the police, and then I didn’t bother, didn’t see the point. I didn’t know Quinn

  was going to do that with them, make up that story about Gemma. He didn’t tell me until he

  was back in London … look, do I really have to tell you everything? I mean, no crime’s been

  committed here, has it? I’m alive and well, Gemma’s done nothing wrong. Can’t we just leave

  it at that?’

  He spread his hands in a placatory manner and smiled sheepishly.

  Devon frowned. Is he serious?

  ‘No, we can’t. Do you realize how much trouble you’ve caused, Mr O’Connor? You do

  realize we thought you were possibly the victim of a serial killer, don’t you? I mean, it’s not

  an offence for an adult to vanish and not tell anyone, you’re entitled to do what you want and

  go where you please, but you must have seen the papers, heard the news? You must have known

  that we thought you were a murder victim? Why didn’t you at least call, text, send someone a

  message to let your friends and family know you were OK? They’ve been going through hell,

  Danny. And we suspected Gemma. We suspected Gemma, your wife, of killing you. Did you

  know that? We didn’t believe a word she said, and it appears now that she was telling us the

  truth all along.’

  Danny lowered his head, sighed, then lifted his gaze to Devon’s again.

  ‘I did see the news, yes. And I know you did, and I’m so, so sorry about that. It just

  seemed like the only way …’

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  ‘The only way to what? Look, Mr O’Connor, you could be in trouble here, maybe even

  facing charges. But if you explain, at least try to help us understand what’s gone on over the

  past few weeks, well, it can only help, OK? So please, start talking.’

  Danny remained silent for several seconds, then nodded slowly, as if making a decision.

  ‘OK, I get it. I’ll try to explain. I don’t know if you’ll understand, but I’m going to try.

  And … well, if I’m going to do this I suppose I’d better start right from the beginning.’

  Finally, thought Devon. Finally.

  Danny paused, shifted in his chair again, then took a deep breath.

  ‘I’ve got myself in a bit of bother,’ he said. ‘Well, quite a lot of bother, actually. I’m an

  IT security specialist – well, I’m sure you know that already. A few months back, I was

  approache
d by someone to take on a private job. I wasn’t supposed to take on outside work – I

  was working for a company called Hanfield Solutions at the time, and they had a pretty strict

  policy about it. But the fella who approached me was very … very persuasive, shall we say.

  The money he was offering was insane, you know? I mean, a really massive amount. It would

  have set us up for life. The only problem was, to earn that money I had to do something …

  something illegal. Something pretty bad.’

  Mike and Devon exchanged glances.

  Gemma was right, Devon thought. This was her theory – that Danny had somehow got

  himself into some sort of serious trouble. Why didn’t we listen to her?

  ‘Go on,’ he said.

  Danny looked from one of them to the other and then inhaled again and let the breath out

  slowly.

  ‘Look, I can’t tell you everything, I can’t name names or anything, it’s too dangerous. But

  I’ve spent my working life defending companies against online hacking and they were asking

  me to do the exact opposite. To hack into the system of a major company, and … well, in the

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  simplest of terms, to basically move some money around. To steal it, essentially. A lot of

  money. I thought about it for a while, really thought about it. I mean, it was fraud, major league

  fraud, and if I was caught I knew I’d go down for years. It was a huge risk, but the money was

  so good. So feckin’ good. And so I said I’d do it. Just the once, take the money and be set for

  life, as I said. I was an eejit, I know that now. But how often does a chance like that come

  along, a chance to change your whole life? It was like winning the lottery. So I started the

  process. And then, I don’t know why, one day a few weeks later I suddenly came to my senses,

  just like that. I think it was Gemma, chatting to me about babies, about our future, one day. I

  wanted all that, wanted a family, and I suddenly realized it wasn’t the money that was important

  after all, it was her and our future together. I’d be throwing all that away if things went wrong,

  if I got caught. I’d ruin everything. So I got hold of the guy and told him I was pulling out of

  the job. Except, well it wasn’t that easy.’

  He picked up his mug, swallowed a mouthful of tea. Then he smiled briefly, his dark

  brown eyes crinkling at the corners, before his expression became serious again.

  ‘I bet. How did he react?’ asked Devon.

  ‘He told me he’d kill me,’ he said simply.

  He paused again, running a finger around the rim of his mug.

  ‘They said that if I didn’t do the job, they’d hunt me down and kill me. I knew too much,

  you see? I knew everything they were planning. And even though I promised, swore on my

  mother’s life that I’d never breathe a word to a living soul, that wasn’t enough. If I didn’t do

  the job, it would be curtains. They gave me a deadline – the end of January – and said I had to

  do the job by then or it would all be over. And that if I went to the police before that, they

  wouldn’t just kill me, they’d kill Gemma and my mum and my brother Liam, too. My brother.

  He wouldn’t hurt a fly, you know? Innocent as a five-year-old. I don’t even know how they

  knew about him, about my family, but they did, they knew everything. So I had no choice, did

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  I? If I did the job, and got caught, my life would be over. If I didn’t, my life would be over too,

  and people I love would die alongside me. So I had no choice. I had to run, I had to disappear.’

  ‘Phew-eeeee.’ Mike let out a long, low whistle.

  ‘I know, right?’ Danny lifted his mug again, drank, then sat staring into the tea.

  ‘So, you made a plan, to make everyone think you were dead,’ said Devon.

  Danny nodded.

  ‘Look, I’m not proud of it, OK? Especially in the light of all the trouble I’ve caused now.

  But at the time … well, I couldn’t think of a better way. If everyone thought I was dead, the

  threat would be over, wouldn’t it? So that’s how it all started. Call me stupid.’

  ‘Well, maybe not your finest idea. But no point on dwelling on that now,’ said Devon.

  ‘Tell us about it.’

  Danny steepled his hands together, leaning his chin on his index fingers. He looked like

  a little boy about to explain his latest prank, Devon thought.

  ‘OK, here we go. I needed to disappear, overnight. And then move abroad, get a new

  identity, try to start my life again. It was too risky to bring Gemma or anyone else with me …

  if I got caught, they’d have killed us both. And yes, before you say it, I know what I’ve done

  was cruel, especially to Gemma. And to all of them, my family, my friends. But it would have

  made life so much easier, you know? Them thinking I was dead, and not just missing? It would

  have meant that after a while, nobody would have looked for me. Yes, I’d be alone. I’d never

  be able to see my friends and family again. I’d have missed Gemma so much, so bloody much.

  But at least I’d be free. And you know what … Gemma’s probably better off without me,

  anyway. I wasn’t a good husband, although I tried to be. I wasn’t always faithful to her.

  Anyway, that’s not important now.’

  Devon and Mike glanced at each other again.

  ‘OK, we’ll come back to that,’ said Devon. ‘Tell us about your plan.’

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  ‘Right, here we go,’ he said, straightening up in his chair. ‘We’d already decided to move

  away from London, to Bristol, and that turned out to be a godsend. I’d be somewhere new,

  somewhere nobody knew me, somewhere I could hide in plain sight, almost. Practice

  disappearing, before I did it for good. And I needed to buy a bit more time too, to get new ID

  documents and so on made up. It takes a while, if you want good ones. So I had this idea. I

  decided to try to make it look like I’d never been in Bristol at all, that something had happened

  to me in London before the move. And … well, this is the bit I’m most ashamed of … I knew

  that the easiest way to do it, by far the easiest way, was to implicate Gemma. To make it look

  like she’d done something to me, something terrible, before she left. Then, when the day came

  and she reported me missing, the police would look into it and find no trace of me in Bristol,

  and well … think that she, or maybe somebody else, but most likely she, had killed me weeks

  before. Jesus, it sounds sick now, doesn’t it? I didn’t think it would go as far as it did, you

  know, there was no real evidence against her after all, because she didn’t do anything wrong,

  but it all seems to have got a bit out of hand. I’m so, so sorry about that.’

  He leaned back in his chair, rubbing both hands across his face.

  It does sound pretty sick, Devon thought. And criminal, too, as Danny would soon find

  out when they arrested him. How could anyone do that to his own wife, a woman who loved

  him? He kept his mouth shut, but it was an effort. Beside him, Mike was silent too, but Devon

  could hear him breathing deeply.

  He’s trying to control himself too. This bastard’s made fools of all of us, he thought.

  ‘I’m so sorry, about what I’ve done to her. I really am, and if I ever get the chance to see

  Gemma again I’ll tell her that too. But at the time …’ He picked up his mug, took another drink

  and grimaced. ‘Getting c
old,’ he said.

  ‘Mike, will you put the kettle on, top up these drinks?’ Devon asked. ‘Carry on, Danny.’

  ‘Sure.’ Mike stood up, his face expressionless.

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  Danny smiled at him, gesturing towards the kettle on the worktop behind them, then

  turned back to Devon.

  ‘OK, so you want to know details, I assume? I started by opening a couple of foreign bank

  accounts, and slowly putting bits and pieces of cash into them. We never had a joint bank

  account, so that bit was easy; it was my money, and I just took little bits out here and there, no

  big withdrawals, nothing that would look odd if anyone ever checked. I had a couple of big

  bonuses I didn’t tell Gemma about too, and I asked for them as cheques, and stashed those

  away as well. I put most of it away for Gemma, so she’d have something to fall back on when

  I was gone, you know? I’d have found a way of letting her know where to find the money,

  eventually. And a bit for myself too, of course – I just wanted a bit of cash in the bank to start

  me off, but I didn’t need loads. I knew that wherever I ended up, I’d be able to find work.

  Beauty of my job. Everyone needs IT experts nowadays. Anyway, then the really important

  bit. I made sure Gemma moved to Bristol a week before I did, told her I had a job to finish up

  here. That bit was crucial, you see – I needed the time to stage the scene in London.’

  ‘Stage the scene? Do you mean the blood, in the bedroom?’

  Mike’s voice was cold as he asked the question, turning the tap on to refill the kettle as

  he spoke.

  Danny nodded, not seeming to notice.

  He’s enjoying telling his story, Devon thought.

  ‘Yes. You found that then? I wasn’t sure, but I hoped you would. OK, this sounds sick

  too, but I’ve started telling you now. No point in missing anything out. I bought this kit on the

  internet, needles and stuff. Started drawing off some of my blood a few times a week. A bit at

  a time, but it soon added up. I know, crazy right? Effective though. Quinn helped. Yes, he knew

  what was going on. He was the only one who did. He’s my best mate in the world, Quinn is.

  Well, that and the fact that he owed me a debt. Not a financial one – he owed me for something

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  that happened years ago, when we were kids. Anyway, that’s not important. But he owed me,