The Perfect Couple (ARC) Page 18

  what’s happened to him. I shouldn’t take it out on you, I know you’re just doing your job, but

  it’s just … it’s just so hard, you know?’

  ‘Of course.’ Devon turned to Helena. ‘It was the fourth of April we wanted to know about,

  right?’

  Helena nodded.

  ‘Yes, Gemma. I know it’s not easy, but if you could just cast your mind back. It would

  have been about, what? Two and a half weeks after you got married. Can you remember

  anything about that period?’

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  Gemma took a deep breath, held it for a moment, then let it out. The flush in her cheeks

  had subsided but her eyes were still wet, and she dabbed at them again.

  ‘OK. Let me think. Can I see that calendar?’

  Helena slid it across the table, and Gemma studied it, running a finger across the dates.

  ‘Right, well, we got married on the seventeenth of March as I said. We stayed in London

  until the Monday, the nineteenth, and then we flew to Paris for a week for our honeymoon, so

  we would have been back on the following Monday, the twenty-sixth. Danny took the rest of

  that week off work and I didn’t have much on so we just sort of hung out for a few days, kind

  of extended honeymoon but at home kind of thing. Then we both went back to work properly

  on the following Monday, the second of April. So that week you’re asking about would have

  just been a normal one. I remember Danny had a few late nights at work, catching up on stuff

  he’d got behind on while we were away, and I was busy again so pretty much chained to my

  desk. But we didn’t go out that week, as far as I can remember, because we’d spent a lot of

  money on the wedding and in Paris and everything, so we thought we’d better be good for a

  while. So, to answer your question, I would have been in the apartment on the night of

  Wednesday, the fourth. All night.’

  Helena, who’d been scribbling again, put her pen down.

  ‘Alone?’ she asked.

  ‘Well, until Danny came home from work. Then it would have been the two of us.’

  ‘OK.’ Helena paused for a moment. ‘Two other dates. Recent ones this time. We need to

  know where you were on the nights of Tuesday, the twelfth of February and Wednesday, the

  twenty-seventh of February this year. The nights Mervin Elliott and Ryan Jones were

  murdered. The two men Devon here mentioned to you in a previous meeting?’

  ‘What?’ Gemma sat still, looking stunned, for a moment, then stood up suddenly, pushing

  her chair back so violently that it toppled over and crashed to the floor.

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  ‘WHAT?’ she said again, her voice tight and angry. ‘Are you serious? You really think I

  could be involved in those deaths, just as you think I’m involved with whatever’s happened to

  Danny? I mean, look at me. Come on, look at me.’

  She put both hands on the table, angling her body across it towards them.

  ‘I’m a journalist. I work from home, writing articles about woolly hats and Pilates and lip

  glosses, for fuck’s sake. I’ve never been in trouble with the police in my life, not once. So do

  you seriously believe that now, at the age of thirty-four, I’ve suddenly decided to take up

  murder as a hobby? That I’ve spent my time in Bristol popping out every other night to kill

  some random man? Why? Why would I do that?’

  She straightened up again, backing away from the table and taking a deep, shuddering

  breath.

  ‘I was at home, on both of those nights, OK?’ she continued. ‘Danny and I didn’t go out

  together at all since we moved here, because we were too busy sorting out the house. I went to

  yoga a few times, and for drinks in the evening once, with some new friends, but that wasn’t

  on either of those nights. Otherwise we stayed in. And yes, I’m saying WE, because despite

  what you think Danny was here in Bristol, alive and well, living with me for the past few weeks,

  until he disappeared exactly a week ago today, OK?’

  She was breathing heavily now, her face red again. Helena sat in silence, watching her,

  but Devon held out a placatory hand and stood up.

  ‘All right. Let’s take a moment. Gemma, I know this is difficult, but getting angry isn’t

  going to help, OK? Sit down.’

  He moved around the table to pick up the fallen chair and gestured for her to sit in it. She

  did, still panting slightly, her fists clenched.

  ‘Are you all right to carry on?’ Helena asked.

  Gemma nodded, eyes fixed on the table in front of her.

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  ‘Sorry, again,’ she muttered.

  ‘It’s OK. We understand that you’re going through a lot right now,’ Helena said. ‘But you

  must also understand that we are now very, very concerned for your husband’s welfare, and on

  all of these dates we’re asking you about, men who bear a striking resemblance to Danny were

  killed in what so far remain unsolved cases. So as you see …’

  Gemma’s head had snapped up, her eyes locking onto Helena’s.

  ‘All of them? What, those two London dates too? Men were murdered in London as well?

  So that’s … that’s four?’

  Helena paused for a moment, then nodded.

  ‘Four, yes. We don’t know if any of them are connected, not yet. But there are certain

  distinct similarities, and as Danny is now missing …’

  Gemma was shaking her head, an incredulous look on her face.

  ‘Oh my GOD,’ she said. ‘You really do think I’ve got something to do with all this, don’t

  you? OK, so if you really don’t believe me about Danny only being missing a week, what

  exactly did I do then? Show me some proof that I hurt him, that I hurt any of them. Tell me

  how I overpowered my big strong husband, slashed him to death with a knife and then … well,

  then what? Carried his body out of our apartment all by myself, and hid it somewhere? Buried

  it? All without anyone else noticing a thing? Where is it then? And again, look at me, for fuck’s

  sake. I’m five foot four, and Danny’s over six foot. I don’t know why his blood is all over that

  room, I can’t explain that. But I didn’t hurt him. He was absolutely fine when I last saw him. I

  didn’t do anything, to any of them. This is crazy, all of it. You’re crazy.’

  She was still in her seat but looked as if she was about to leap out of it at any moment,

  her hands shaking, her face suddenly drained of colour, ashy white. There was silence in the

  room for several moments, then Helena cleared her throat.

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  ‘OK, we’ll leave that for now,’ she said. ‘Just one more thing. We’ve accessed your

  medical records, and we’ve noticed that you suffered from a period of anxiety and depression

  a few years ago. Can you tell us a bit about that?’

  Gemma sighed wearily. She looked drained, Helena thought, the dark rings under her

  eyes even more pronounced now that she was looking so pale.

  ‘It was work-related. I was working as a newspaper reporter back then and it was really

  high pressure. It all got on top of me, so I quit my job and got help. I’m fine now. Being

  freelance is much better because I’m in control. I can turn down jobs if I have too much on.

  And again, how is that relevant to Danny’s disappearance? It was before I even met him.’

  Her words were defiant, but she just sounded sad now, her voice low and monotone.

&nb
sp; Helena looked at Devon, who gave her a small nod. It was time to wrap things up. And so

  they’d let Gemma O’Connor go home, not really any further forward than they’d been when

  she’d arrived.

  ‘Here you go.’

  Devon was back, carrying two steaming mugs. She accepted hers gratefully, desperate for

  the small caffeine hit the tea offered. After a couple of sips she put the mug down again.

  ‘Right, so now we wait for the forensics on the O’Connor house. Maybe that will tell us

  what to do next, Devon, because I don’t mind telling you, I’m struggling here.’

  He sighed.

  ‘I know, boss. And I know what you mean about Gemma O’Connor. There’s a lot there

  that points to her, but things don’t entirely add up. By the way, notice how she still talks about

  him in the present tense? I was just thinking about that when I was getting the drinks. “I’m five

  foot four, he’s over six foot”, remember that? It’s a little thing, but the psychs would say that

  means she believes he’s still alive. Otherwise it would have been more like “he was over six

  foot”.’

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  Helena picked up her mug again.

  ‘I know. I noticed that too. And if she did kill him in that apartment, she had a point –

  she’s not very big, or very strong looking. Unless she did have help, how would she have been

  able to overpower him? When he was asleep, maybe? And how would she dispose of the body?

  I just don’t know. But she’s a clever woman, Devon. She’s a journalist, remember, and they’re

  tricky. We can’t let her fool us.’

  She took a sip and put the mug down.

  ‘And also, that episode of mental illness she had a few years ago? She says she’s OK now,

  but how do we know it’s not back and worse this time, making her do things she might not

  even be aware of? We can’t take anything for granted, there’s too much at stake here. I mean,

  now it’s potentially four murders we’re talking about. Four, and maybe five. We need to find

  Danny O’Connor’s body. Because he’s dead, Devon. I know he is. And I still think his clever

  little wifey knows a lot more than she’s letting on.’

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  17

  ‘Well, thanks a lot. Thanks for nothing.’

  I cut the call and flung my phone down onto the sofa, then sank onto it myself, a sudden

  wave of shame rushing over me to replace the surge of anger I’d just felt. Shit. What was wrong

  with me? I’d just lost my temper with the police again, just like I had in that interview room

  the previous night when they were asking me all those ridiculous questions. I needed to get a

  grip.

  ‘Who was that? They’re still out there, you know. In fact, I think there are more of them

  now than there were last night.’

  Eva appeared in the doorway of the living room, long hair in a plait down her back, a

  half-eaten apple in one hand. Albert scampered in behind her and ran across the room to sit at

  my feet, resting his head on my knee.

  ‘Hello, you,’ I said, and stroked his soft nose, then turned back to Eva.

  ‘It was the police. I rang them to tell them we were under siege by the press, that we

  couldn’t even open the front door without a billion flashbulbs going off, and the desk sergeant

  or whoever it was just said there was nothing they could do, not unless they were trespassing

  or there was damage to property or something. I got mad and just put the phone down on him.

  I feel really shitty about it now.’

  Eva crossed the room, dropped the remains of her apple onto a plate that was sitting on

  the coffee table, and sat down beside me.

  ‘Oh sweetie, they’ll understand. You’re under massive pressure, especially after last

  night. And you’ve been on the other side of things often enough in the past to know that he was

  right – the press are perfectly entitled to stand outside someone’s house on a public road as

  long as they obey some basic rules. Nothing we can do, sadly.’

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  She squeezed my arm, and I sighed.

  ‘I know. I just can’t bear it, Eva. This whole thing … it’s just getting more and more

  bizarre. I don’t think they’re even looking for Danny alive anymore, you know. I think they’re

  absolutely convinced he’s dead, and that I had something to do with it. And with those other

  murders too. I mean, seriously? Two murders in London, and another two in Bristol? They

  seem to think that because I once suffered from a bit of anxiety that I’m some sort of psycho.

  Me, Eva. If it wasn’t so bloody nightmarish it would be funny.’

  ‘I know. It’s crazy. I’m so glad you’ve got some new friends here, you know. I’ll feel so

  much better about leaving you here and going back to London. I did really like them.’

  ‘Good. I like them too.’

  Earlier, Tai and Clare had come round for coffee. They’d obviously heard the news, seen

  my picture on the front of the paper, and Tai had rung first thing, asking if I was OK and if she

  and Clare could come over.

  ‘We’ll bring cake. Sounds like you might need it,’ she said.

  An hour later they were on the doorstep, looking anxious and flustered after pushing their

  way through the press pack in the street.

  ‘God, that was horrible! This is horrible, I can’t believe what’s going on here,’ Clare had

  gasped as I closed the front door behind them.

  ‘Welcome to my world,’ I said drily. ‘And yes, it’s not much fun. Come in and meet Eva,

  she’s dying to say hello.’

  True to her word, Tai had brought cake; not just one, but a selection of cupcakes from

  one of the bakeries in Clifton Village.

  ‘There’s lemon, banoffee, carrot, rocky road and, errrm, salted caramel, I think,’ she said,

  as she lifted the beautifully decorated mini-sponges carefully out of their white box and laid

  them neatly on a plate, Albert hovering nearby, eyes following her hands, hoping for some

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  dropped crumbs. Clare had arrived without Winnie and Albert’s disappointment had been clear,

  his frantically wagging tail drooping as the door closed and he realized that it was just two

  humans standing in his hallway, no poodle in sight.

  I smiled at Eva.

  ‘Told you they were nice,’ I said, and she grinned back as Tai and Clare laughed. The

  cake had lifted the mood a little, and for a few minutes we sat and ate and chatted about not

  very much.

  Then Clare said: ‘Gemma, I know you probably don’t really want to talk about it, it must

  be so awful with Danny still missing, but are you OK? I mean, when we saw in the paper that

  you’d been questioned, and that the police seem to be linking Danny’s disappearance to the

  two murders on The Downs, well, we were just horrified.’

  I hesitated for a moment, wondering how much to tell her, then decided to keep things

  simple. What had been in the papers was enough for now.

  ‘I’m OK. Well, as OK as I can be under the circumstances,’ I said. ‘The police just brought

  me in to get some more background stuff on Danny, that’s all. The press outside, they’re just

  hoping for a new angle on the story. If Danny is dead …’

  I swallowed hard, trying not to cry, and Tai who was sitting to my left on the sofa

  immediately slipped an arm round my shoulders. She smelled, as always, of ora
nges and

  bergamot, a fragrance she imported from a tiny perfumerie in Paris twice a year. She’d told us

  she’d discovered it on a weekend trip to the French capital years ago, and had never worn

  another perfume since.

  ‘Oh Gemma, I can’t even imagine what you’re going through,’ she said. ‘We are so sorry,

  honestly.’

  ‘I just wish you’d met him, before he went missing,’ I said quietly. ‘You’d have liked

  him. Hopefully, one day …’

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  ‘ Definitely one day,’ said Clare, who was on my right. ‘Positive thinking, right?’

  We all fell silent for a few moments, then Eva said: ‘It’s such a shame that you didn’t

  meet him. We’ve sort of been struggling to find people who did, you know, since he moved

  here with Gemma? It might have been useful to see if anyone had picked up anything that

  Gemma might not have noticed, about how he was behaving and stuff before he went missing.’

  Clare nodded.

  ‘Well, we tried!’ she said, with a little laugh. ‘We invited him to join us for drinks but he

  couldn’t make it, could he, Gemma? So the mysterious Danny remained a mystery.’

  ‘Seemingly so,’ said Eva. She glanced at me as she spoke, and I thought I saw a strange

  expression cross her face. A shiver ran through me. Surely Eva wasn’t starting to doubt me

  now, too? Surely she wasn’t beginning to think I was making it up about Danny being here

  with me in Bristol, like the police did?

  Tai and Clare left soon after, hugging me hard in the hallway and grimacing as they

  prepared to face the camera flashes once again. When it was just me and Eva again, I turned to

  her and asked her straight.

  ‘Eva – you do believe me, don’t you, that Danny was here? It’s just that when Clare talked

  about having never met him, you looked … I don’t know, you looked a bit strange.’

  Was I imagining it, or was there a moment of hesitation before her reply came?

  ‘Gemma, of course I believe you! Don’t be ridiculous. All this is making you paranoid.

  I’ve got your back, OK? Always had, always will.’

  She’d wrapped her arms around me then, and I’d taken a deep breath, burying my face in

  her shoulder. Of course Eva would never doubt me, of course she believed me. She was right,

  I was getting paranoid. But if only my new friends had met my husband. It would have meant