The Perfect Couple (ARC)

by Jackie Kabler

  and so he agreed to help, with all of it.’

  Another one who wasted our time, then, thought Devon coldly.

  ‘Anyway,’ continued Danny, ‘he helped me with the blood. We read online that blood is

  OK for up to about forty days in a fridge, you just need some specialist bits and pieces, but we

  got it all online and it was pretty easy. He stored it here in that fridge for me.’

  Mike, who had just opened the fridge to find the milk, visibly recoiled.

  ‘Anyway, as soon as Gemma left for Bristol, Quinn drove the blood over and I splashed

  it all over the bedroom. Copied some scene of crime photos we found online. Made a pretty

  good job of it. And then I dropped off the keys to the landlord, making sure nobody saw me,

  and moved in here with Quinn for the week, laid low. When I headed for Bristol a week later I

  wore a disguise – a beard, a hat, glasses – and made sure I arrived after dark and used the back

  gate. I’d already contacted my new employers in Bristol to tell them I’d changed my mind

  about the job, so all I had to do then was find somewhere to hang out every day, making sure I

  came and went while it was dark to reduce the chance of the neighbours seeing me. I used a

  local gym in the end, went in disguise every day, no sweat. Used the name Patrick and paid for

  everything in cash. Easy.’

  Gemma was right again, Devon thought, with a pang of guilt. She tried to tell us that, and

  yet again we didn’t listen. We thought she was lying, about everything.

  Danny was still talking.

  ‘I stopped using my UK bank account too, used my foreign bank card if I needed to make

  a big purchase; I just had to make sure Gemma didn’t see it,’ he said. ‘Otherwise I just paid

  cash for things, made sure I had enough stashed in my backpack for those last few weeks. And

  I made sure I never answered the door in the house, stuff like that. I thought Gemma would

  start to notice, but she didn’t. I suppose we had plenty to do around the place, having just moved

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  in. Easy to stay in instead of going out. It would have got harder as time went on, but I only

  ever intended to do it for a few weeks. I made sure I didn’t contact anyone either, for those

  weeks – got rid of my phone, made up a story about a delay in my work getting me a new one.

  It was like a game. And it worked. My only concern was that Evans, our landlord, would find

  the blood in the bedroom too soon, and then I’d have to move before I was ready. But I knew

  he was going away, and I figured I’d have a few weeks. It all worked perfectly.’

  Mike was back at the table. He’d found a teapot somewhere, and was topping up their

  mugs with fresh tea, eyes narrowed, listening intently. Devon was gripped too, with a sort of

  horrified fascination.

  What a story, he thought.

  ‘So, what about the emails Gemma said she had from you in those weeks you were in

  Bristol? And the photos she said she took of you? How did you get rid of those? Because I

  assume now it was you who got rid of those? She thought her phone was playing up,’ he said.

  ‘You know what I do for a living,’ said Danny. His face wore a guilty expression. ‘Pretty

  simple to make those vanish forever. And when I moved out, finally, I did it when Gemma was

  off on a press trip, so I could clean the whole place with bleach, make sure as much of my DNA

  and fingerprints as possible were out of there. Make it look like I’d barely been there at all.

  Then, in the early hours of the morning, Quinn came and picked me and the bike up in his van

  and drove me to London. Been here ever since.’

  ‘Wow.’ Mike exhaled heavily.

  ‘I know. I’m a feckin’ sneaky little shite, aren’t I?’ Danny looked contrite again. ‘I tell

  you what though, I didn’t know a serial killer was going to pop up though, did I? That was a

  shocker. And the fact that the victims kinda looked like me – really weird, that was. Weird, but

  a gift too, you know? If the guys who were after me thought I was the victim of a serial killer

  well, great. But then when I saw in the news that Gemma was being questioned not only about

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  me but about those other killings too, well … that was awful. I was really, really sorry about

  that. Couldn’t make it up.’

  ‘You used the same dating app as at least two of the dead men, did you know that? Elite

  Hook Ups? EHU?’ said Devon.

  Danny nodded, the guilty look back on his face.

  ‘Yes, I was on that … but those guys using it too? That’s another weird coincidence. Or

  maybe not, I mean it’s pretty popular these days, thousands of people use it. But still. I didn’t

  know about that, until Gemma mentioned it to Quinn the other day and he told me. Bizarre.

  Look, I’m not proud of that. About being married and signing up to a dating site, I mean. As I

  said before, I wasn’t always a good husband to Gemma. I’ve always struggled to be faithful,

  not just to her, to all the women I dated before her too. It had got better, recently – I was trying,

  I really was. I love Gemma, you know? I wanted a future with her, kids, all the normal stuff.

  But it was like … like an addiction.’

  He ran a hand through his hair, and closed his eyes, shaking his head slowly. Devon didn’t

  know what to say, and Mike was clearly of a similar mind, so they both sat in silence, waiting

  for Danny to continue.

  ‘I needed lots of female attention, always have done. Sounds pathetic, but that’s how it

  is,’ he said finally. ‘So every now and again I’d hook up with someone I met online, no strings.

  Just sex. Now and again it went a bit too far though. Once I shagged a bird at a party I was at

  with Gemma … just skipped off to a bedroom for ten minutes when she was chatting to

  someone else. Sick, eh? Gemma never knew, never even suspected, and it was such a thrill,

  doing it with so many people just feet away. And this other time, I tried to get off with her

  friend, Eva. Jesus, that was a mistake. She was having none of it though, and thank God. I

  wouldn’t have got away with that one, if Gemma had found out.’

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  Devon’s eyes had widened at the mention of Eva’s name, and he felt a small surge of

  satisfaction. So the lovely Eva rejected Danny’s advances? Good.

  ‘Can we just go back to the EHU app for a minute?’ Mike was saying. ‘You used a fake

  email address. Or an untraceable one, at least? Why?’

  ‘I just used some software to hide my IP address. For privacy, you know? In my situation

  …’

  Devon’s brain was beginning to hurt.

  ‘OK. OK. There’s a lot to take in here,’ he said.

  With Danny being alive, so much of what they’d assumed about the murders would now

  need to be looked at again, in a different light, but he knew he couldn’t think about that right

  now.

  ‘And Quinn?’ he said. ‘Why did he send those messages to Gemma? Did you ask him to

  do that?’

  Danny looked startled.

  ‘The messages? How do you …?’ He paused. ‘Well, yes, I knew he’d sent some messages.

  I was planning to finally get out of here next week, you see. False passport, documents, the lot,

  they’re all ready now. I wanted to reinforce the idea that I was dead, as I said, so that say

  someone recognized me on a plane or something, nobody would believe them if
they reported

  it, because it would be well documented that my wife was being questioned for killing me. So

  Quinn said he’d send a few texts, shake things up a bit, make you guys think someone out there

  knew she’d done something bad to me. But he said he’d use a cheap pay-as-you-go phone,

  untraceable. Don’t tell me …’

  ‘He screwed up,’ Devon said. ‘Sent the last message from his own phone.’

  ‘SHITE. Feckin’ eejit,’ said Danny. For a moment, he looked furious. Then he shrugged.

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  ‘Don’t suppose it matters now, does it? The game’s up. You’re going to arrest me, I

  assume?’

  Devon nodded. ‘Afraid so, yes. I’m not entirely sure what you’ll be charged with yet –

  there’s so much to unravel here, but there’s trying to pervert the course of justice, wasting

  police time, possessing identity documents with improper intention, plus …’

  Danny raised both hands in the air.

  ‘OK, OK! Can I just take a piss first, before we go? Too much tea.’

  ‘Sure. And grab a coat and some shoes too. It’s cold out.’

  ‘OK. And thanks. Both of you. For listening. It was good, for someone to listen, you

  know? Listen, and not judge. I know I’ve screwed up here, badly. God knows how I’m going

  to keep us all safe from the nutters who are after me now though. But I guess that’s not your

  problem.’

  He stood up and walked from the kitchen, and moments later they heard the bathroom

  door lock. Devon and Mike sat at the table in silence for a few moments, then Mike spoke, his

  voice a vicious hiss.

  ‘Listen, and not judge? The guy’s delusional. I mean, I understand that he was scared for

  his life, and he needed to run. But there are ways of doing things. To do what he did, to that

  poor woman …’

  ‘I know. I know. But sssh, for now.’

  They sat quietly again, both lost in thought. Around them, the small flat was still, the

  silence broken only by the low hum of the refrigerator and a slow drip-drip from the kitchen

  tap.

  Shit, thought Devon suddenly. It’s too quiet.

  ‘Mike – quick!’

  ‘What?’ A startled-looking Mike leapt up and followed as Devon ran from the room.

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  ‘Danny!’ He rattled at the bathroom door. Nothing,

  ‘OK, stand back. I’m going in.’

  He stepped backwards as far as he could in the narrow hallway then launched himself at

  the door. It burst open, the flimsy wood cracking, and slammed into the wall behind it. Devon,

  breathing heavily, rushed into the room, Mike behind him. The room was tiny, the shower

  cubicle narrow and empty. Over the hand basin, the window was wide open, net curtain

  blowing gently in the chill night breeze. And Danny was gone.

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  36

  I tucked my feet up under me on the sofa, pulled the faux fur throw over my knees, then reached

  for the plate I’d just put down on the coffee table and took a large bite of my Brie and bacon

  toasted sandwich. The cheese oozed out of the bread, running down my chin, and I wiped it off

  with my finger and then licked. It tasted divine. At my feet, Albert sat watching me, poised to

  fling himself on any tiny shred of bacon that might fall from my plate. I peeled a sliver off one

  rasher and handed it to him, and he wolfed it down noisily then resumed his hungry stare. He’d

  been brought home to me first thing, having been taken to a local kennels by the police to be

  cared for while I’d been in custody, and he hadn’t left my side since, other than to gobble down

  a huge plate of food in the kitchen and then immediately seek me out to beg for more. I rolled

  my eyes – I was pretty sure the kennels hadn’t been starving him – but I gave him a second

  helping anyway. I quite fancied double portions of everything myself, so who was I to judge?

  When I’d arrived home the previous night, still feeling slightly dazed as I’d stumbled out

  of my taxi – is this real? Danny’s alive, and I’m free? – I’d suddenly realized I was starving,

  and other than during the few hours when I’d succumbed to a deep, dreamless sleep, I hadn’t

  stopped eating since.

  ‘Making up for the past few weeks,’ Eva had said when I’d spoken to her on the phone

  earlier. ‘I’ve been worried about you, you’ve hardly been eating a thing.’

  ‘I am now,’ I mumbled, through the mouthful of Mars bar I was chewing. ‘I think I’ve

  put on half a stone since I got home.’

  Clare and Tai had been round already earlier that morning, having heard about my arrest

  and subsequent release on the news. They’d arrived laden with bulging carrier bags, and told

  me they weren’t there to ask questions, just to make sure I was all right.

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  ‘We didn’t think you’d have any food in, so we went shopping for you,’ said Tai, as she

  unpacked the bags on the kitchen table, and my heart swelled; my freedom dinner the previous

  night had been microwaved fish fingers and chips I’d found in the freezer, the fridge and

  cupboards virtually empty again. They were so kind, so thoughtful, these women I barely knew,

  I thought. Friends, proper friends, already, despite the short time we’d been hanging out

  together.

  ‘And we weren’t a hundred per cent sure what you’d want, but we knew you aren’t veggie

  or vegan or anything so we just bought a selection,’ added Clare. ‘Essentials, obviously, milk,

  bread, butter and so on. Some fruit and veg. Cheese, salami, bacon, chicken, smoked salmon.

  Wine, obviously. Chocolate. And some frozen bits and pieces too. Is it OK?’

  ‘OK? It’s amazing. You’re both amazing,’ I’d said, and hugged them both hard. They left

  after making me promise we’d all get together very soon for dinner, and then left me to start

  working my way through my newly stocked cupboards.

  It still seemed surreal to be sitting there, safe on my own sofa, knowing that all the

  accusations and suspicion that had been swirling around me for weeks had now vanished. The

  police hadn’t told me much when they’d released me, saying simply that Danny had been found

  alive and well and had explained his disappearance to them. But when I’d tried to ask for more

  details, the officer who’d been dispatched to explain to me why I was being allowed to go home

  had been vague, refusing to tell me where Danny was or whether anyone would be facing any

  charges in relation to his disappearance.

  ‘Just rest assured that we are no longer considering any criminal charges against you, Mrs

  O’Connor,’ he had said.

  I still had so many questions – why Danny had felt the need to vanish in the first place,

  where the blood in the bedroom had come from, why he had behaved so oddly in the run-up to

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  his departure, what was he going to do now? And the little matter of the dating app, of course.

  But it seemed I’d have to wait for the answers. Eva too was bursting with curiosity.

  ‘We need to find out what happened, this is crazy!’ she said. ‘Surely Danny will get in

  touch with you now, to explain, now that he knows you know he’s alive? I know they have to

  respect his privacy but if only they’d given you some idea of where he was, we might be able

  to track him down. I mean, we don’t even know if he’s still in the UK, do we? And is he in

&nb
sp; custody, or not? I’m sure he must be facing charges of some sort.’

  ‘No idea,’ I said, and broke another chunk off my chocolate bar.

  ‘And yes, I’m desperate to know exactly what went on too, and what his plans are now. I

  can only assume they don’t include me, which is still heartbreaking. But for some reason right

  now I feel sort of OK, you know? Mildly euphoric even. It’s kind of weird – I mean, my

  husband’s still left me, and is quite possibly seeing someone else, and everything we ever had

  together has most likely been a lie, and all of that is totally shit, and I should be a sobbing

  wreck. But … I don’t know, it’s the relief I think. It’s just been so horrible, not knowing

  whether he’s alive or dead, and then having the police think that I might have had something

  to do with it all. And with those other murders too. They said that as I clearly didn’t kill Danny,

  the possibility that I’d killed the other men was no longer being considered either. I guess

  they’re back to square one on those now. Danny looking so like the murder victims was

  obviously just some sort of weird coincidence. But honestly, Eva, I don’t care. I’m just not

  interested anymore. Danny’s alive, and for now that’s enough. Everything else can wait.’

  The article Eva had been asked to write about me – her ‘my friend, the suspected serial

  killer’ piece – had now been scrapped, and a peek through the lounge curtains early that

  morning had confirmed what I’d hoped, that the press no longer had any interest in me either.

  I’d flung the curtains open with a whoop, and as I sat eating my toasted sandwich the midday

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  sunshine streamed in through the window, the clouds like fluffy white candyfloss, the sky

  cerulean blue.

  I’d been taking, and making, calls all morning, updating friends and family on the rather

  extraordinary events of the past couple of days. My dad had cried with relief, my mum sobbing

  too in the background, and even though they, like me and all the others, had questions I couldn’t

  answer, they were happy to let the mystery remain for now.

  ‘As long as you’re OK, darling. That’s all that matters,’ Dad said.

  I’d decided against ringing Bridget. The police had said they would be informing Danny’s

  family that he’d been found, and that was good enough for me. If she wanted to speak to me,